#Room Additions Miami

[miamifirstremodel]

Professional Shower & Bathtub Replacement Services in Miami

When it comes to home renovations, nothing rejuvenates a bathroom quite like a fresh shower or bathtub replacement. At Miami First Remodeling, we are dedicated to providing top-tier Shower & Bathtub Replacement Miami service, transforming your bathroom into a space of both beauty and functionality. With years of experience in the remodeling industry, our skilled team works diligently to deliver outstanding craftsmanship that will leave you with a bathroom you’ll love for years to come.

Why Choose Shower & Bathtub Replacement?

In the fast-paced Miami lifestyle, bathrooms serve as sanctuaries of relaxation. However, over time, your shower or bathtub may begin to show signs of wear and tear. Whether you're dealing with outdated designs, cracked surfaces, or inefficient water flow, replacing your shower or bathtub can significantly enhance the aesthetics and functionality of your space. Miami First Remodeling specializes in providing solutions tailored to your specific needs, helping you create a luxurious and modern bathroom.

Benefits of Shower & Bathtub Replacement in Miami

1. Improved Aesthetics:

Replacing your old shower or bathtub breathes new life into your bathroom. You can choose from modern, sleek designs that complement your home’s interior and provide a visually pleasing space for you to unwind.

2. Enhanced Functionality:

New showers and bathtubs come equipped with the latest technology, offering features like water-saving systems, superior durability, and comfort-focused designs. A replacement ensures you enjoy the benefits of modern innovations.

3. Increased Home Value:

Upgrading your bathroom with a new shower or bathtub can boost your property value, making it more appealing to potential buyers. In a competitive real estate market like Miami, small improvements can make a big difference.

4. Better Water Efficiency:

Older models often use more water than necessary, leading to higher utility bills. A new shower or bathtub is more water-efficient, saving you money in the long run and helping the environment.

Our Shower & Bathtub Replacement Process

At Miami First Remodeling, we follow a meticulous process to ensure every replacement project exceeds your expectations. From the initial consultation to the final installation, we prioritize your vision and comfort every step of the way.

Step 1: Consultation and Design Selection

During our initial consultation, we listen to your needs and assess your current bathroom layout. We present various options, including walk-in showers, soaking tubs, and custom-built designs. You get to choose materials, finishes, and configurations that match your style and budget.

Step 2: Preparation and Removal

Our team ensures that your home remains clean and protected during the project. We carefully remove the existing shower or bathtub, taking care to minimize any disruption to your daily routine.

Step 3: Installation and Finishing Touches

Our expert technicians handle the installation with precision. Whether it’s a frameless glass shower enclosure or a deep soaking tub, we guarantee a flawless fit and finish. After installation, we complete the project with attention to detail, ensuring all fixtures and accessories are correctly installed.

Step 4: Final Walkthrough and Inspection

Once the project is complete, we conduct a final walkthrough with you to ensure you are satisfied with the work. We pride ourselves on delivering a final product that meets and exceeds your expectations.

Garage Conversions in Miami: Maximize Your Space

Beyond bathroom renovations, Miami First Remodeling offers premier Garage Conversions Miami service. A garage conversion is an excellent way to maximize your living space without expanding your home’s footprint. Whether you need an additional bedroom, a home office, or a studio, converting your garage provides endless possibilities.

Why Consider Garage Conversion?

Garage conversions are becoming increasingly popular among Miami homeowners who want to add functionality and value to their homes. Instead of allowing your garage to serve as a storage space for unused items, consider transforming it into a usable living area.

Here are some reasons to explore garage conversions:

1. Additional Living Space:

As your family grows or your lifestyle changes, you may need extra living space. Garage conversions offer an affordable way to gain this space without the expense of an extension.

2. Increased Property Value:

A well-executed garage conversion can significantly increase the value of your home. Whether you plan to sell in the future or simply want to invest in your property, a converted garage adds value and appeal.

3. Flexibility and Versatility:

Converted garages can serve multiple purposes, from guest rooms to entertainment areas. The flexibility of this space allows you to adapt it to your current and future needs, making it a smart investment.

4. Cost-Effective Home Expansion:

Compared to traditional home additions, garage conversions are typically more affordable and require less time to complete. You get more usable square footage without the need for extensive construction work.

Our Garage Conversion Process

The success of your garage conversion relies on expert planning and execution, which is why Miami First Remodeling is the trusted choice for many Miami homeowners. Here’s a glimpse into our garage conversion process:

Step 1: Initial Consultation and Design Planning

We start by discussing your vision for the converted space. Whether you need a functional home office or a cozy guest suite, we develop a design plan that suits your needs and enhances the overall layout of your home.

Step 2: Permit Acquisition

Our team handles all necessary permits and ensures that the conversion meets local building codes. We take the hassle out of navigating Miami's permitting process, so you can focus on enjoying your new space.

Step 3: Structural and Aesthetic Modifications

Depending on your garage’s current structure, we may make modifications such as insulating walls, installing windows, and upgrading the flooring. We also pay attention to aesthetics, ensuring that the new space seamlessly blends with the rest of your home.

Step 4: Final Touches and Inspection

Once construction is complete, we perform a thorough inspection to ensure everything is up to code and meets our high standards. We walk you through the finished project to ensure you are delighted with your new space.

Why Choose Miami First Remodeling?

At Miami First Remodeling, we are committed to excellence in every project we undertake. Our dedication to quality craftsmanship, customer satisfaction, and attention to detail sets us apart from other remodeling companies in Miami.

Here’s why you should choose us for your next bathroom renovation or garage conversion:

Experienced Professionals: Our team consists of highly skilled professionals with years of experience in bathroom renovations and garage conversions.

Customized Solutions: We work closely with you to create designs that reflect your style, preferences, and functional needs.

Timely Completion: We respect your time and aim to complete every project on schedule, without compromising quality.

Competitive Pricing: We offer high-quality services at competitive rates, ensuring you get the best value for your investment.

Conclusion

Whether you're looking to transform your bathroom with a new shower or bathtub or maximize your home’s potential through a garage conversion, Miami First Remodeling is the company to trust. We bring your vision to life with expert craftsmanship, attention to detail, and a commitment to customer satisfaction.

[noimnotmae]

𝐌𝐈𝐗-𝐔𝐏 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐏 — Lando Norris⁴

summary: After landing in Miami for his race, Lando carelessly places his bag next to an identical one as he rushes to the bathroom. And in a hurry, you mistakenly grab his bag, thinking it's yours. And during the next five days in Miami, everything took an unexpected turn, escalating into something far bigger than either of you had anticipated.

˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷ lando norris x female! reader 🔸

Ｐａｒｔ ２

Ｐｒｅｖｉｏｕｓ Ｐａｒｔ

— "So wait, the guy from the airport is staying at our hotel?" Lhea's eyes widened as she leaned closer, her excitement evident as she listened to your story. "Did you get his name?" she asked eagerly. You nodded, grinning. "His name is Lando Norris, I think," you replied, watching as Lhea quickly pulled out her phone to investigate. As she typed, you leaned in to peek at her screen, only to find Lando's Instagram account. "Lhea!" you exclaimed in surprise.

She glanced at you with a smirk. "What? I just want to make sure he's safe for you, and single," she teased, prompting a playful shove from you. "We only met once–" you began, but Lhea interrupted with a finger to your lips. "Twice, actually," she corrected with a grin. Before Lhea could say anything else, the taxi pulled up to your destination. "We're here," announced the driver, and you quickly paid before exiting the car.

Lhea eagerly showed you her phone. "You need to see this," she urged. "F1? Like the fast cars?" you exclaimed. Lhea nodded enthusiastically. "And there's a race today, tomorrow, and on Sunday," she informed you as you walked, her attention divided between her phone and the surroundings.

"Let's discuss this more at Liv's place, okay?" you suggested, slightly concerned about Lhea's distracted walking. She nodded in agreement, turning off her phone and tucking it away. "You're right, we can't leave Olivia out of the conversation," she acknowledged, finally focusing on the path ahead.

[Texts]

[Instagram]

lhea_theitgirl

Miami, Florida

liked by ynusername, livduh and 504 others

lhea_theitgirl reunited at last 🎉 . . . more

tagged ynusername and livduh

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ynusername took you a while to get here

lhea_theitgirl xoxo

livduh tea time 🍵

lhea_theitgirl yknow it girl 😘

ynusername whoop whoop 😋

user1 lovely 😍

user2 trios >>

user3 full fit?

[Irl]

Olivia warmly welcomed you and Lhea into her apartment, which looked much the same as your last visit, albeit with a few new additions– mainly, an abundance of cat-related items. You and Lhea settled your bags on the couch as Liv disappeared into her room briefly. "I'm raiding your fridge!" you called out from the kitchen, already opening the refrigerator door in search of a drink. "Go ahead," Liv replied casually, emerging from her room with a ginger cat nestled in her arms.

Instantly drawn to the feline, you and Lhea approached Liv, cooing at the cat, who seemed less than thrilled with the attention. "Why so grumpy?" you cooed, cautiously petting his head as he attempted to bat your hand away. "He's not a fan of meeting new people," Liv explained with a grin. "But look at those adorable white socks!"

Clearly, the three of you shared a love for cats. "Anyways, let's get to the point, shall we? We have somewhere to be in a few hours," Liv said, glancing at her watch. You and Lhea didn't press for details and followed Liv outside to her backyard, where a table and chairs were set up.

Seated comfortably, Liv placed Bib on her lap and turned to you and Lhea. "So, spill. What's the story?" Lhea wore a wide grin as the two of you sat across from her. "Let's start from the beginning, when YN found who had her bag and whose bag she mistakenly took," she began, earning a chuckle from you. "Well, that same person happens to be staying at our hotel. And when I looked him up on Instagram, turns out he's some kind of celebrity–" Lhea's explanation was cut off by Liv's question. "How did you find his Instagram?" she asked, to which Lhea replied, "He introduced himself to YN. Anyway, turns out he's actually an F1 driver."

"No way. Oh my god, talk about coincidence or fate," you and Lhea exchanged confused glances as Liv continued, "Remember when I mentioned we were going to this big event because my brother and his friends couldn't make it?" Lhea grasped your arm as if she had some sort of revelation, while you remained confused. "I can't believe it..." Liv shook her head, a grin spreading across her face. "We're going to watch the race today!" Both Lhea and Liv squealed with excitement, while you sat there, utterly baffled by what was happening.

Glancing at her watch, Liv rose to her feet. "Time to go, let's go!" she exclaimed, prompting you and Lhea to follow suit, still trying to process the whirlwind of events.

[IG Story]

viewed by livduh, lhea_theitgirl and 33 others

[Twitter]

[Texts]

[Instagram]

ynusername

Miami, Florida

liked by lhea_theitgirl, livduh and 989 others

ynusername idk how we got here. anyway, go Ferrari? . . . more

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lhea_theitgirl girl, we're here for McLaren

ynusername I retract my earlier statement, let's go McLaren

livduh unbelievable 😂

user4 you're an F1 fan??

ynusername no, lol. just had an opportunity to attend the race for today

user5 one day

user6 Forza Ferrari ❤️

[Twitter]

Ｐａｒｔ ３ — Ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ

A/N : Part two, whoop whoop. Idky but I feel this part is such a mess. lmao, let me know what you think :)

tagged: @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @barcelonaloverf1life

If you want to be tagged for this series, just let me know in the comments.

[brunchable]

It's not a Meet-𝑪𝒖𝒕𝒆, it's a Meet-𝗨𝗴𝗹𝘆.

《 Chapter 5: Your Crying Shoulder. 》

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: It's not a meet-cute, it's a meet ugly, Grumpy Meets ✨️Sunshine✨️, Opposites Attract, Sassy Pet Matchmaker, Enemies-to-Lovers (Lite), Destined to meet again, Bucky is a hidden softie. Summary: When everything falling apart, you found yourself in the arms of the person you least expected. A/N: This story will be OUTSIDE of MCU but Bucky's traits will be mixed comics/mcu. This will be updated every FRIDAY(AEST). I can't help but place a TikTok meme in here somewhere lmao. Credits to me for the Banner lmfao. credits to @ khaer for the divider.

Mission Report - J. B. Barnes To: N. Fury Subject: Family Dynamics

Key Findings

1. Family Structure

Y/N Y/LN: CEO of The Emporium NYC, handling New York operations, public relations, and key corporate responsibilities.

Jonathan [Half-Brother]: Oversees Miami branch expansions and operational strategies. Professional but distant relationship with Y/N, characterized by mutual respect and a clear division of responsibilities.

2. Operational Observations

Financial Irregularities: Offshore accounts linked to Emporium subsidiaries display significant fund transfers with unclear purposes. Investigating their potential connection to Hydra-related activities is a priority.

Board Affiliations: Certain board members are linked to political figures and tech firms specializing in advanced security technologies. Their involvement requires further investigation for possible ties to Hydra.

Employee Turnover: Leadership restructuring followed Y/N’s promotion. Several former executives now hold external consulting roles, potentially redirecting focus from Emporium’s internal operations.

3. Personal Relationships

Rhys: Y/N’s boyfriend and the son of a global luxury hotel mogul. While not directly involved in Emporium operations, his influential family ties and potential connections to Y/N's network merit attention.

4. Behavioral Insights

Y/N demonstrates dedication to her role but shows signs of frustration with corporate pressures. She appears unaware of financial irregularities within the organization, suggesting compartmentalization of information.

No evidence connects Y/N directly to suspicious activities. Monitoring her relationship with Rhys could provide additional context, as his background and resources may intersect with Emporium’s broader dealings.

Recommendations

1. Background Checks: Investigate board members, financial consultants, and Rhys’s family business for any links to Emporium's offshore holdings and potential Hydra connections.

2. Monitor Relationships: Subtly observe Y/N’s interactions with Rhys and board members for indirect insights.

3. Enhanced Financial Scrutiny: Deepen analysis of offshore accounts to establish potential links between Emporium funds and Hydra-backed projects.

End of Report

× × × ×

Figaro pranced confidently into Bucky’s apartment, his tail held high, a familiar item clamped between his teeth. Alpine looked up from her spot on the windowsill, tilting her head as she watched him strut across the room.

“Alpine,” Figaro greeted, setting down the item—a soft, worn scarf that unmistakably carried your scent.

Alpine sniffed at the scarf, then looked at Figaro, a glint of curiosity in her eyes. “Your human let you out with… that?”

Figaro settled down next to her, casually licking a paw. 

“Oh, she doesn’t know I took it,” he replied with a lazy flick of his tail. “But I thought you might appreciate a little reminder of her.” He gave her a knowing look, lowering his voice. “She was patching up your human’s busted lip the other night, by the way.”

Alpine’s eyes narrowed with amusement. “Did she now? And did you happen to notice the way he was looking at her?” she asked, her whiskers twitching.

“Oh, I noticed. He was all ‘I’m tough, but not too tough for you,’” Figaro said, imitating a dramatic swoon, then rolled his eyes with exaggerated flair. “Honestly, he’s got it bad. She was fussing over him, and he was eating it up like a kitten with a saucer of cream.”

Alpine purred thoughtfully. “Well, it’s about time. But he won’t admit that to himself.”

“Yeah, well, the issue,” Figaro continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone, “is that there’s another guy in her life. Rhys.” He spat out the name with as much disdain as a cat could muster. “Total bore. Calls her ‘baby’ like it’s some kind of magic spell. And he smells like cheap cologne. Honestly, his existence is an insult to felines everywhere.”

Alpine’s ears perked up. “So he’s competition?”

Figaro scoffed. 

“Please. He’s like the knockoff toy they keep at the bottom of the discount bin. My human doesn’t even smile around him anymore; she just tolerates him. But every time your guy shows up, she lights up like it’s Christmas morning.” He stretched, his claws extending as if to make his point. “I’m telling you, we’ve got to get rid of him. For the sake of all that is right in the world.”

Alpine let out a thoughtful meow, eyeing the scarf Figaro had brought. “You know, if we could just keep nudging them together, maybe they’ll take the hint. They’re not too bright, but they’ve got chemistry.”

“Exactly!” Figaro said, his eyes gleaming. “Our owners are hopeless without us. This is a mission, Alpine. A noble mission. A mission to save her from that pathetic excuse for a partner.” He gave an exaggerated shudder. “And frankly, if I have to listen to him call her ‘baby’ one more time, I might cough up a hairball on his shoes.”

Alpine let out a low chuckle, nudging Figaro with her paw. “Well then, Mr. Matchmaker. What’s the plan?”

“Oh, I’ve got ideas,” Figaro said, eyes narrowing as if deep in thought. “Plenty of ideas. After all, I’m doing the world a favor.”

× × × ×

There was cold silence since that tense encounter with Rhys, and though you’d pushed it to the back of your mind, his apology text had come through late tonight, begging you to talk. You decided, almost against your better judgment, to go. Maybe it was a habit, maybe just closure. But as you reached the hotel and made your way up to his office, a cold, uneasy feeling settled in the pit of your stomach.

The hall was dimly lit as you approached, your heels clicking softly against the polished floor. Then, as you neared the frosted glass door of Rhys’ office, you stopped in your tracks. Two silhouettes were visible through the blurred glass, close, intimate. You watched as Rhys pressed a woman—with a golden hair clip—against the glass, their forms locked together in a kiss that left little to the imagination.

Your throat tightened, a dull ache building in your chest as the weight of the betrayal hit you. To be honest, I felt like I already knew it, you thought, the silent admission somehow worse than the scene unfolding in front of you. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less. You tried to swallow down the emotions swirling within you—anger, sadness, and that unmistakable pang of disappointment. Being cheated on hurt, even when you’d mentally checked out of the relationship. It chipped away at something deeper, a quiet part of your self-worth you hadn’t realized still cared.

Water rimmed your eyes, but you blinked it back, refusing to let him take that from you too. You inhaled deeply, straightened your shoulders, and turned away from the office door, leaving as quietly as you’d arrived.

× × × ×  Fews days after

Bucky squinted, utterly baffled. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he muttered. He scratched the back of his neck, feeling absurdly judged by a cat.

Alpine huffed, letting out a short, dismissive meow, clearly unimpressed with whatever answer she’d decided on. She trotted off toward her food bowl, pausing just once to throw him a final, critical look before bending to eat.

“Alright, sure, just go back to ignoring me,” Bucky grumbled, watching her. But as he leaned against the counter, glancing down at the faint trace of your scent still on his sleeve, he couldn’t help feeling like Alpine had silently decided something about him that she wasn’t going to share anytime soon.

Bucky watched Alpine chowing down on her food, her tail flicking in satisfaction as she devoured each bite with gusto. He allowed himself a moment of peace, but then came the unmistakable sound of someone struggling with his lock.

“Oh, hell no,” he muttered under his breath, his mind flashing back to the night you’d drunkenly tried breaking into his apartment, mistaking it for yours. Swinging the door open, he was prepared for a repeat performance, only to be met with Sam, frozen in mid-action, his hand clutching a spare key. Behind him stood Steve, holding two large bags of takeout, and Nat, arms crossed with a smirk.

“Uh… hey, Buck,” Sam greeted, attempting a casual tone while quickly tucking the key behind his back like he hadn’t just been caught red-handed.

“Why are you trying to break into my place?” Bucky narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms.

Sam cleared his throat, glancing at Steve and Nat for backup. 

“We’re, uh… your backup! Sent by Fury.” He flashed a grin that looked anything but innocent.

“Backup?” Bucky repeated, deadpan, as the three of them filed in with the casualness of seasoned intruders. “Fury said it was a simple assignment. Barely a mission.”

Steve rolled his eyes, giving Bucky a pitying look as he passed by to set down the bags on the table. “You really believed that? Seriously?”

Bucky opened his mouth to argue, but before he could get a word in, Nat had already made her way over to Alpine, who blinked up at her with the smug satisfaction of a cat who’d been expecting her. Nat scratched Alpine’s ears as Alpine purred, looking even more at ease than Bucky had ever seen her.

Just as Nat leaned down to pet Alpine, her gaze flicked up, catching sight of Bucky’s busted lip. She raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Nice lip, Buck. Trouble on the way to the door?”

Bucky’s hand instinctively went up to his mouth. “Oh, that? I… tripped over Alpine.”

Steve’s head whipped around, eyes narrowing as he tried to keep a straight face. 

“You tripped… over Alpine?” He looked down at the serene, not-at-all-menacing cat sitting contentedly by Nat’s side, then back up at Bucky, clearly struggling to hold back a laugh.

Bucky crossed his arms, his expression turning defensive. “It’s possible, alright? She’s tiny but lethal.”

Sam let out a snort. “Yeah, sure. I’m sure the Winter Soldier can handle a battalion of Hydra agents but gets taken out by a house cat.”

“Don’t you guys have anything better to do?” Bucky just rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath as Sam already raiding the fridge like he owned it. 

“Oh no, please, make yourselves at home. I’ll just find somewhere else to live, shall I?” Bucky’s voice was dripping with sarcasm as he watched the scene unfold. 

“Buck, you have got to keep better beer in here. This stuff is practically water.” He settled on a bottle anyway, taking a long swig before glancing back at Bucky. “We’re just here to help, man. Think of us as… extended housemates.”

Bucky crossed his arms tighter, a look of utter disbelief on his face. “Extended housemates?” He gestured at the room. “You act like you already live here!”

Steve, entirely unbothered, started setting out the food, carefully placing burgers on plates and arranging napkins. “We thought you might need a little company. I mean, it’s a Friday night, after all.”

“I’m perfectly fine alone, thanks,” Bucky replied, his gaze narrowing as he watched Sam polish off half a beer in one go. “How about you go keep each other company?”

Steve chuckled, handing a plate to Nat. “You said the same thing last time we showed up. Yet, here we are. Again.”

Nat, now comfortably settled on the couch with Alpine, flashed him a wicked grin. “Let’s not be dramatic, Bucky. Just think of us as… spontaneous visitors.”

“Visitors don’t usually come with their own keys,” Bucky grumbled, his gaze settling on Sam, who was busy rifling through his cabinets for snacks. “And they certainly don’t bring takeout to make themselves at home.”

Sam shrugged, unfazed. “You think of it as invading your privacy; I think of it as improving the vibe around here.”

Bucky let out an exasperated sigh. “I swear, one of these days, I’m changing the locks.”

“Good luck with that. We’ll just get new keys.” Nat smirked, scratching Alpine’s head as if she were orchestrating a coup. 

Bucky glared, but Steve was already setting a plate piled with ribs and a burger in front of him. “Eat up, Buck. Before Sam devours everything like the human garbage disposal he is.”

Sam waved his beer bottle, looking completely unbothered. “Hey, I resent that. This is strategic eating. Besides, with your ‘barely-a-mission,’ we need all the fuel we can get.”

“I’m starting to think Fury set me up.” Bucky rubbed his forehead, exasperated but clearly losing the battle.

Steve just grinned, popping open his own beer. “I’m sure Fury thought you’d appreciate the backup.”

“Or at least tolerate it,” Sam added, grabbing a handful of fries and popping them into his mouth.

With a resigned sigh, Bucky sank into a chair, shaking his head. “You guys are impossible.”

“Impossible is our specialty,” Sam shot back, raising his beer in a mock toast. “To back up, and to Buck finally admitting he likes having us around.”

“Let’s not get carried away.” Bucky snorted. 

Alpine purred louder, clearly pleased with the lively atmosphere, while Nat smirked at Bucky. “See? Even Alpine agrees. You’re just a grump with a soft spot for us, admit it.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Fine. But next time, bring your own key.”

“Oh, we will,” Steve assured him with a smirk. “And maybe a couch, a pillow or two.”

Sam, now munching contentedly on fries, raised his beer again. “To crashing Bucky’s place—where every night is a mission, and the food’s free.”

Bucky took a reluctant bite of his burger, trying to ignore how comfortable his “guests” had made themselves. Just as he was starting to think the worst was over, Steve casually leaned over to Sam, as if sharing a quiet plan.

“We’ll grab the rest of our stuff from the car when Buck’s asleep,” Steve said, completely deadpan.

Bucky nearly choked on his burger, staring at Steve like he’d lost his mind. “The rest of your stuff? What are you talking about?”

Sam, without missing a beat, grinned. “Perfect. Nat can take the bedroom, and the three of us can crash in the living room. It’ll be like a sleepover.”

Nat raised her eyebrows, feigning delight. “I called dibs on the bed, anyway. I always knew Buck had the fluffiest pillows.”

“Hold on, hold on! This isn’t some youth hostel! You all have your own places!” Bucky’s face twisted in horror as he looked around the room. 

“Yeah, but none of our places have a view of you panicking about your personal space.” Steve looked unbothered, casually unwrapping another burger.

Bucky glared. 

“I’m not panicking! I just—” He waved a hand in utter frustration. “This is my place! You can’t just... commandeer my bed!”

“Don’t worry, Buck. We’ll all be snug as bugs on the floor, reliving those good ol’ days in the barracks.” Sam leaned back, looking way too comfortable for someone who’d apparently just broken in.

“Except Nat,” Steve corrected, “who will be enjoying Buck’s luxurious mattress.”

Bucky looked to Alpine, almost pleading. “You see what I deal with? Even the cat respects my space more than you three!”

Alpine simply blinked, looking rather indifferent to her owner’s plight as she happily settled on Nat’s lap.

“Oh, come on, Buck,” Sam said, reaching over to ruffle Bucky’s hair. “We’ll make it fun! Popcorn, ghost stories, some embarrassing truths about Fury… just like old times.”

“Yeah, Buck,” Steve added, grinning. “Think of it as team bonding.”

Bucky threw his hands up. “This isn’t bonding! This is trespassing! And I don’t want to hear any ghost stories or truths about Fury. I want my bed, my couch, and my fridge not raided!”

Nat sighed, patting Alpine who purred louder. “Look, Buck. Clearly, Alpine’s on board. You’re outvoted.”

“Traitor.” Bucky narrowed his eyes, looking at Alpine in betrayal.

Steve chuckled, leaning back with a smug grin. “Face it, Buck. Tonight’s already decided.”

Bucky let out a resigned sigh, shaking his head as he muttered under his breath. “Next time, I’m leaving the country.”

× × × ×

You strode into the dimly lit restaurant, greeted by a chorus of cheers and mock applause as Serena, Mei, and Jane raised their glasses, voices rising in unison. "Woooo, here comes the CEO!"

You shook your head, laughing as you took your seat, subtly glancing around the table. Your gaze caught on one unfamiliar face, though it took a split second longer for the memory to click into place. Carly. She was Rhys' new assistant, a realization that caused your brow to lift just slightly. You’d thought she looked familiar from somewhere else, but with her new polished appearance and newfound confidence, it was hard to tell right away.

Chloe, ever the instigator, nudged Carly forward with a smile that held a hint of challenge. 

“Ladies, meet Carly. You might remember her, Y/N. She used to work at The Emporium,” she said, her words smooth but her gaze pointed.

You kept your expression cool, a practiced smile settling on your lips. “Ah, that explains why she looks familiar.” You gave Carly a nod, and she responded with a forced smile, her eyes holding something less friendly beneath the surface.

The evening moved along, filled with laughter and a few rounds of drinks. Serena, Mei, and Jane offered congratulations, and Sarah, as always, played the role of your unwavering cheerleader, throwing a few enthusiastic compliments your way. But as the night flowed, it was Mei who leaned in, her voice dipping into a sympathetic tone.

“So, I heard Rhys de Armande cheated on you.”

You blinked, not expecting the topic to surface so bluntly. You forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, though a subtle flicker crossed your face.

“You forced a light laugh, though your jaw tightened beneath it. “Oh, it was probably because I told him to take his bare minimum and keep it out of my sight. Pretty sure he wanted to vanish into thin air after that, especially since his entire office got to witness it.”

Jane, Mei, and Serena burst into laughter, clearly picturing the scene as you animatedly relayed the story.

“Oh my gosh, that’s incredible,” Serena giggled, shaking her head. “He absolutely deserved every bit of that.”

You let out a faint laugh, flipping your hair back and letting it settle over your shoulder as you raised an eyebrow. “Ugh, I’m too busy with work to be hurt by this kind of stuff,” you replied, feigning a casual air as you took a sip of your drink, though the words had a hard edge underneath.

“Do you know who the woman was?” Serena leaned forward, curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

Chloe’s lips curled into a faint smirk.

“I mean, with Rhys’ type, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s someone… eager to climb the ladder, if you know what I mean,” Mei said.

Sarah’s eyes flashed, and she opened her mouth, ready to retort, but you discreetly squeezed her hand under the table, keeping your expression smooth. You didn’t need her stepping in right now. 

“You should’ve grabbed her hair!” Jane piped up, half-laughing, her fist in the air as if she were ready to throw a punch herself, “I respect the way you’re so laid back, because honestly I would’ve gone apeshit.”

“Oh, forget it. He’s the one who cheated. I couldn’t care less about her,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “She’s probably no different from him—anyways! Enough about him!”

As the words left your mouth, Carly’s face visibly tightened, her forced smile slipping as she pushed back her chair, muttering under her breath as she walked off toward the restroom. Her eyes flickered with a glare that lingered on you as she departed, barely concealing the frustration bubbling beneath her cool facade.

Serena raised her eyebrows, catching the shift in mood. “What’s with her? She was glaring at you the whole time.”

“Oh, who knows,” Sarah murmured, watching Carly’s retreating figure with a slight smirk, her hand still entwined in yours beneath the table, a sign of solidarity.

Chloe glanced after Carly, a subtle, knowing smile playing on her lips. “Probably just adjusting to her new… surroundings.”

You glanced down at your phone, barely containing the irritation rising within you as you took in the image on the screen: Rhys and Carly, cozy on a beach, his arms wrapped around her as if he hadn’t been apologizing to you just days earlier. It was from an unknown number, but there was no doubt in your mind who had sent it.

With a measured breath, you slipped the phone back into your bag and stood, offering your friends a polite excuse before following the path Carly had taken. You found her just outside the restrooms, leaning casually against the wall with a smug smile, almost as if she’d been waiting.

“Why did you send me that?” You stopped in front of her, gaze steady.

She didn’t bother hiding her grin, crossing her arms as she looked you over. “Because I wanted you to know.”

“Know what?” You raised an eyebrow. “That Rhys cheated on me?”

“No,” she replied with a sickeningly sweet smile, crossing her arms tighter. “That I seduced your boyfriend. You seemed completely fine with it.”

A scoff escaped you as you let out a dry laugh, crossing your own arms. 

“Did you expect me to crumble just because I was cheated on?” You tilted your head, studying her. “Alright, let’s say you two ‘fell in love.’ Then you should be apologizing to me—”

Her smile faltered as she cut you off, her voice raising a fraction. “I felt guilty at first. But then you acted like it wasn’t a big deal. You weren’t curious about me, didn’t even acknowledge what I did. So my self-esteem? It just kept plummeting.”

You looked at her, incredulous, and chuckled coldly. “Wow—seriously? You’re such a loser—You’re blaming me for your self-esteem issues?”

Her lips pursed in irritation. “Why shouldn’t I? Why do you think I can’t do what you do? I can seduce your man and be just as successful—be just like you. But you never gave me the chance. Not only that, you took my opportunity at The Emporium away from me.”

“Ah,” you murmured, amusement in your voice. “So this is about me firing you?”

Her jaw clenched, eyes narrowing. “You didn’t deserve to be in that position. You act so high and mighty, like nothing can shake you. You have it all, don’t you? The job, the influence, the respect. But guess what? I can take what’s yours. I already did, didn’t I?”

You laughed, unbothered, shaking your head slowly. 

“You really don’t get it, do you?” You stepped closer, gaze locked on hers. “If you couldn’t handle the job, that’s on you. Throwing this little tantrum only proves I was right about you. As for Rhys…” You shrugged, a smirk tugging at your lips. “You can keep him. My ex cheating doesn’t affect my work—but you? You do. So maybe I’ll have a word with his parents and see how your career fairs then.”

You turned to leave, but her voice came out sharp, dripping with venom. “You can’t pretend you’re not bitter about it. That’s why you’re here, right? To confront me?”

Pausing, you glanced over your shoulder, an icy smile on your lips. “Ever step on something nasty on the sidewalk? Hmm I don’t know like shit? It’s a pain, but you don’t let it ruin your day. You wipe it off and move on. That’s what you and Rhys are to me—Shit—something I’ll be glad to scrape off my shoe.”

Without another glance, you strode back to the table, your head held high. Your friends glanced up as you approached, a few eyebrows raised.

“Everything okay?” Sarah asked, eyeing you with mild concern.

You forced a polite smile, nodding as you picked up your bag. “Actually, I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow. I should get going.”

With a few quick goodbyes, you left, satisfaction settling over you as you stepped out, knowing you’d left Carly exactly where she belonged—behind you.

× × × × 

“Sarah! Open the noor! I know you're in there, Sarah! Open the noor!” Your drunken voice slurred through the quiet hallway, louder with every knock.

Inside, Bucky froze, instantly recognizing your voice. His eyes widened, and he shot a panicked look at the mountain of files scattered across his coffee table—the very files on you and The Emporium that he’d been piecing through with Steve, Sam, and Nat.

“Everyone! Gather the files, now!” he hissed, immediately jumping to action.

“What? Why? Relax, man, we’re not under attack or anything.” Sam raised an eyebrow, lounging on the couch with a half-eaten sandwich.

Bucky shot him a glare, practically yanking the files out from under Sam’s plate. “One of our ‘subjects’ is outside the door, Sam! Now MOVE!”

“Wait, you mean her?” Steve asked, eyes widening as the banging on the door got louder.

“Yes!” Bucky hissed, shoving an armful of files into Steve’s hands. “Now stop talking and start hiding!”

Nat rolled her eyes, stacking papers hastily. “Isn’t this a little dramatic? She’s probably just lost.”

“She’s not ‘lost,’ she’s drunk!” Bucky snapped. “And I’d rather not explain why I’m reviewing her life story with three nosy intruders!”

“Oh, we’re the intruders now?” Steve muttered as he clutched a bundle of files to his chest. “Could’ve sworn we were here for your mission!”

The banging grew even louder. 

“Sarah! Don’t you ignore me, woman!” Your voice was muffled but determined, sounding like you were one step away from kicking the door down.

“Go, go, go! Get in there!” Bucky herded them like sheep, arms waving wildly as he tried to push them toward the bedroom.

“Ow, Bucky, stop shoving!” Sam complained, elbowing Bucky back as he tripped over a rogue sneaker. “Seriously, why are you acting like we’re about to be raided?”

“Because she’ll see this mess and ask questions!” Bucky shot back, pushing him forward again. “Just get in and be quiet!”

Nat stumbled as Bucky prodded her toward the door, muttering, “Why are you so panicked? Did you do something wrong, Buck?”

“Would you all just move?!” Bucky whispered furiously, practically bulldozing them all through his bedroom door. “I’ll explain later. Just don’t make a sound!”

Steve stumbled, catching himself with a loud “Ow!” as Bucky finally got all three of them behind the door. He shut it firmly and leaned against it with a sigh, only to hear a loud “Shh!” from Nat, Sam, and Steve bickering in hushed whispers.

“Move your elbow!”

“Steve, that’s my foot—ow!”

“Could you three not sound like an entire stampede?”

Outside, your voice grew louder, slurring but stubborn as ever. “Saarah! Come on, I brought sushiiii!”

Bucky took a breath and opened the door, his expression calm yet barely holding it together. There you stood, wobbling slightly, hair slightly mussed, and an unmistakable grin on your face when you saw him.

“Oh! Sarah, you changed! You look so much taller… and more... Bucky-like.”

“Uh, hi,” he said as he steadied you. “I think you might have the wrong door, trash panda.”

You blinked, frowning, and swayed a little closer. “Wrong door? But I brought sushi! And, wait—” You squinted at him, leaning in. “Bucky?”

“Yeah, Bucky,” he confirmed, holding back a chuckle as you gave him a suspiciously scrutinizing look.

“Ohhh…” you drawled, clearly trying to process it all. “Well, if you see Sarah, tell her the sushi is... sushi-ing.”

He nodded, keeping his tone light, even though his friends were probably eavesdropping as best they could. 

“Will do. And, uh… maybe we should get you home?”

“Good idea. But you keep this. Looks like you could use some fish.” You nodded, albeit unsteadily, handing him a stray piece of sushi. 

You gave Bucky a wobbly smile, one that looked a little too determined for someone in your state. Before Bucky could stop you, you swayed forward, making a beeline past him and into his apartment.

“Wait, Y/N—this isn’t… Sarah’s place!” he said, barely catching up as you staggered into his kitchen.

“Close enough,” you slurred with a grin, swaying dramatically from side to side as you reached for the fridge handle. Alpine, sensing a new friend in distress, trotted over, rubbing against your legs with enthusiastic little chirps.

“Oh! Hey, kitty!” you cooed, reaching down to pet her, then looking up at Bucky with wide, innocent eyes. “Sarah’s cat never welcomes me like this. See? She gets me.”

Bucky ran a hand over his face, half-amused, half-panicked. “Right. Because Alpine just loves guests raiding the kitchen.”

You opened the fridge door, inspecting the shelves as if on a mission. 

“Where’s the… the ice cream?” you muttered, voice muffled by the refrigerator door. “Sarah always has chocolate fudge swirl, and I need it.”

“Seriously, you’re in the wrong apartment,” Bucky tried, sounding both exasperated and entertained as he reached out, but you sidestepped, one hand still on the fridge door, the other now waving vaguely in the air.

“Shhh, Bucky,” you chided, squinting as you leaned in further, peering deeper into the fridge with a sense of deep concentration. Alpine padded around you, her tail curling around your ankle, clearly thrilled to have you there.

“Listen, Bucky,” you slurred, not even glancing up, “all I want… is chocolate ice cream and maybe… maybe a good laugh. Do you have tissues? I feel like I’ll need them, like, a lot of them.”

Bucky couldn’t help the grin tugging at his lips. He tried his best to guide you away from the fridge gently, but you shot him a mildly annoyed look, shoving a stray pack of carrots aside as if they were personally offensive.

“Don’t you dare hide the good stuff behind the veggies,” you said, mock-scolding him as Alpine hopped onto the counter, watching the scene with wide, curious eyes, tail twitching.

“Really, Alpine?” Bucky muttered at his cat, who was clearly rooting for you and even pawed at Bucky’s hand as if to say, Let her have the ice cream!

“I knew you’d understand me, Alpine,” you cooed at the cat, as if she were your personal support group. “See, Bucky? Even she gets it. She knows.”

Bucky sighed, half-heartedly resigned. “You know what, fine. If Alpine says so, who am I to argue?”

Finally, you pulled out a random tub—yogurt, not ice cream—and peered at it in disappointment. 

“Greek yogurt? Bucky, are you… are you okay?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, perfectly fine, thanks.”

You blinked at him, still clutching the tub. “Well, clearly, you’re living a sad existence if this is all you’ve got.”

“Or I’m just not prepared for unexpected trash pandas who raid my fridge,” he replied, crossing his arms, trying not to burst out laughing as you clung to Alpine for support, who purred loudly, delighted with the chaos.

“Fine, then!” you declared dramatically, patting Alpine’s head. “Alpine and I will fend for ourselves.” You turned on your heel (or tried to, at least), your balance giving out just slightly as you wobbled with an exaggerated sway. Alpine gave an encouraging “mrrp!” as if saying, Yes! Go forth!

Bucky finally took pity on you, grabbing a pint of actual ice cream from the freezer, waving it like a peace offering. “This? Will this make you happy, your highness?”

You lit up, the joy on your face as radiant as if he’d handed you a crown. “Now that’s more like it!” you cheered, taking the tub, your steps still swaying as you made your way to his couch.

Bucky followed you over, shaking his head as you sat down, giving Alpine a spot next to you. He sat down nearby, stifling a chuckle as you dug into the ice cream.

“So… just gonna crash here tonight, then?” he asked, leaning back with a smirk.

You waved the spoon dismissively, barely even looking up. “Obviously. And you, Bucky Barnes, need to get more ice cream. Greek yogurt’s just… depressing.”

He shook his head, chuckling. “Noted.”

You tore into the box of tissues, your frustration boiling over as you whipped open the plastic bag for trash with the precision of someone handling a life-or-death task. In one hand, you wielded the spoon like a weapon, in the other, a tissue you’d already shredded halfway. Bucky sat a few feet away, wide-eyed, clearly out of his depth. Alpine perched on the coffee table instead, her tail swishing in judgment, shooting Bucky a look that all but screamed, Fix this.

“You good there?” Bucky asked cautiously, his voice hesitant, like he wasn’t sure whether he should move closer or start looking for an escape route.

You let out a short, sharp laugh—bitter, too loud for the small space. “Good? Oh yeah, I’m great! I mean, how could I not be? My ex-boyfriend cheated on me with his assistant, who, surprise, also happens to be the same girl I fired for being utterly incompetent.”

Bucky, sitting stiffly on the couch, could only blink as you laughed. Not a gentle laugh, but one that bordered on hysteria, punctuated by short, sharp breaths. It wasn’t the kind of laugh that came from something funny; it was the kind that cracked through the tension when words couldn’t quite hold the weight of everything you were feeling.

“Oh, my God!” you exclaimed, raising your spoon as if to make a toast. “It’s just perfect, isn’t it? Fired her for being terrible at customer service, and what does she do? Rebounds as my boyfriend’s personal assistant. Like, how poetic is that?” You gestured with the tissue, accidentally flinging it onto the coffee table, but you didn’t stop. 

“And then—get this—she blames me for her low self-esteem! Like, excuse me for not sending her a gift basket after she slept with my boyfriend. I mean—” You let out a bark of laughter, shaking your head as tears welled in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “You can’t make this stuff up!”

“And then tonight?” You gestured wildly with your spoon. “Tonight, I had to sit there, all smiles, pretending like everything was fine, because God forbid I let anyone think I’m not. And Carly—oh, Carly—had the audacity to act like she’s the victim. She felt bad about it! Isn’t that just hilarious?” You scooped another bite of ice cream, your laughter spilling out, sharp and brittle, filling the air like broken glass.

Bucky sat frozen, his jaw slightly ajar, his heart twisting as he watched you spiral. You leaned forward, still laughing, the sound echoing unnaturally in the quiet apartment. You looked absurd, sitting there with a tub of ice cream and tissues in hand, trying to force humor into something that was clearly tearing you apart.

“Y/N,” Bucky said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t seem to hear him, your laugh rising in pitch as you tilted your head back, wiping your face with the back of your hand. “It’s hilarious, really. Just the perfect little tragedy. I kind of saw it coming, you know? Rhys was always—”

“Y/N.” Bucky’s voice was firmer this time, cutting through the haze of your spiraling thoughts like a blade.

He moved off the couch, lowering himself to his knees in front of you, his steady blue eyes locking onto yours. The laughter caught in your throat as you met his gaze. There was no judgment in his expression, no pity—just an unwavering presence that felt like a lifeline. His gaze softened, like he was offering you something you weren’t sure how to accept.

“Just cry,” he said, his voice calm but resolute.

Your lips parted as if to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. The lump in your throat tightened, and for a moment, you thought you could hold it together. But the way he was looking at you—like you were the only person in the world—broke down every defense you’d spent the evening building.

“Don’t force yourself to laugh,” he added gently, his eyes never leaving yours. “It’s okay to cry.”

Your smile wavered, trembling at the edges before fading completely. You looked away, the dam bursting as tears spilled over, hot and relentless. A shaky breath escaped you, and your hands fumbled with the tissue box, but they were trembling too much to hold anything.

Bucky let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair as he glanced toward the closed bedroom door. He rarely, if ever, allowed anyone to see this side of him. Vulnerability wasn’t something he was used to sharing—especially not with his friends only a room away. But for you? He didn’t hesitate.

“Ah, screw it,” he muttered under his breath.

Alpine let out a soft “mrrp” of approval, watching as Bucky leaned forward, wrapping a careful arm around your smaller frame. He didn’t say anything, just held you close, letting you bury your face against his chest. His touch was gentle but grounding, the steady rhythm of his breathing anchoring you as you finally let yourself break.

He rested his chin lightly on top of your head, his other hand rubbing slow, soothing circles against your back. The weight of your head against his chest grounded him as much as he hoped it comforted you.

Alpine, perched on the coffee table, watched with what could only be described as smug satisfaction, her tail flicking contentedly.

Bucky’s awkwardness melted away bit by bit as he felt your breathing begin to even out against him. He let out a soft sigh, glancing down at you. Alpine’s watchful gaze was fixed on him, as if daring him to get this right. Bucky cleared his throat, searching for the right words, feeling more vulnerable than he’d admit.

“You know… you’re stronger than you think,” he said, his thumb grazing your shoulder without him realizing. “You take on so much, and you do it with so much grace. Even when you don’t have to.”

Your breath caught, and you lifted your head to meet his gaze, his blue eyes soft but unwavering.

“I know you don’t need me or anyone else to tell you how incredible you are. But, just… let someone see it, will you? Because you… you deserve that. And I mean every damn word.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, and you felt a rare sense of peace, your heart light in a way it hadn’t felt in so long. Bucky looked at you, his expression softening further as he took in the sight of your smile, his own heart skipping a beat.

Just as the warmth of Bucky’s words started to sink in, your phone erupted with an insistent buzz, breaking the peaceful moment. You glanced down to see Rhys’ name flashing on the screen. You groaned, but before you could even react, Bucky had snatched the phone from your hand, holding it up as it vibrated relentlessly.

On the fourth ring, Bucky pressed "answer," bringing the phone to his ear with a calm confidence that sent a thrill through you, his voice dropping to a dangerous calm.

“Rhys right? You know, she’s a little busy right now…” he greeted, the single word laced with a tension that could cut glass. “Here’s the deal: you’re gonna stop calling her. Got that?”

You watched, wide-eyed, as Bucky ended the call without waiting for a response and promptly shut off the phone. He set it down with an air of finality, his gaze meeting yours. Before you could form a coherent thought, a loud knock echoed through the apartment, making you both jump slightly.

“Y/N? I know you’re in there.” The voice outside was unmistakable—Rhys.

Your stomach churned as Bucky’s eyes flicked to the door, his jaw tightening.

“What the hell?” he muttered, standing up, his posture instantly tense.

“Bucky…” you started, but he raised a hand, silencing you with a look.

The knock came again, harder this time, followed by Rhys’ impatient voice. “Come on, Y/N, open the door! Let’s talk.”

Alpine, perched on the coffee table, let out an annoyed hiss, her tail flicking sharply as if she shared Bucky’s distaste for the situation. Bucky moved toward the door with deliberate steps, glancing briefly at the bedroom where Sam, Steve, and Nat were undoubtedly eavesdropping.

“Stay here,” Bucky instructed, his voice low and commanding. You watched as he reached for the door, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring.

The door creaked open, revealing Rhys standing in the dim hallway, his expression a mix of desperation and annoyance.

“What are you doing here?” Bucky’s voice was dangerously quiet, but the threat beneath it was clear.

Rhys crossed his arms, his gaze darting past Bucky into the apartment. “I’m here to talk to Y/N. This is between me and her, so if you don’t mind…”

“Oh, I mind,” Bucky shot back, stepping further into the doorway, blocking your view. “She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“You don’t speak for her,” Rhys snapped, his voice rising. “Y/N!” he shouted, his voice cracking with frustration. “You can’t avoid me forever!”

The tension in the room was palpable, and you stood frozen, torn between staying put and stepping in. But before you could decide, Rhys’ voice dropped, and the words that followed sent a chill down your spine.

“I know what you’re hiding.”

Bucky’s entire body stiffened, his hand tightening on the edge of the door. His head tilted slightly, and though you couldn’t see his face, you could feel the shift in his demeanor. The calm before the storm.

“Excuse me?” Bucky’s voice was low, deadly.

Rhys scoffed, his tone dripping with false confidence, voice low while glancing shortly at you. “Don’t play dumb. I know about the Emporium. And I know about you.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs, your breath catching as Rhys’ words hung in the air like a grenade waiting to explode. Alpine let out a sharp, warning hiss, her tail flicking wildly.

“Y/N,” Bucky called over his shoulder, his voice steady but laced with coldness that made your blood run cold. “Go to my room.”

“What? Why—”

“Now.”

The finality in his tone left no room for argument, and with a wobble in your step and the slight haze of alcohol still clouding your mind, you retreated into the hallway. 

You staggered slightly, catching yourself on the wall as your eyes darted toward the only other door in sight: Bucky’s bedroom. Your curiosity���or perhaps your drunken instincts—propelled you forward. You weren’t sure why, but something about the tension in Bucky’s voice and the way he’d so urgently told you to leave made your heart pound faster.

The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly as you approached the door, your hand reaching out hesitantly toward the doorknob. You heard a faint shuffle from behind it—too faint for you to process fully in your current state—but enough to make you pause. Your fingers hovered above the cool metal, trembling slightly.

The voices from the other room grew louder for a moment before falling eerily silent, the tension almost palpable even through the walls. Your breath hitched as you gripped the doorknob tighter, the faintest click of the mechanism echoing in the stillness of the hallway.

The door began to give under your push.

Inside, Steve, Sam, and Nat froze mid-whisper, their eyes darting toward the door as it inched open.

tags: @winchestert101 @lomlbuckybarnes @lveegsoi @itsshellzy @almosttoopizza

@aami98 @hextech-bros @hzdhrtss @winterslove1917 @infqnitysblog

@ayayaeyato @blackbirdwitch22 @mostlymarvelgirl @bohoooitsme @crdgn

@yiiiikesmish @jae0515 @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @nikey-no-likey @aami98

@almosttoopizza @wisteriaandwafers @yiiiikesmish @marvelavengerspovs1 @xunquish-blog

@ppbhquinn @ziawbarnes @scott-loki-barnes @let-it-sn0o0ow @seven0714

@lostinspace33 @clockworkballerina @bonnie-bun

[green-swan]

cigarette or zoot? (pt. 1) | joost klein x f1! driver (fem!reader)

in which london and smoking are synonymous with meeting a cute dutch artist

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when AVROTROS approached her about eurovision, she thought they made a mistake. max was dutch. she wasn't. her lithuanian roots were deeper than any other identity she could've carved for herself. in the end she agreed; going in their cars with max around the city of malmö, visiting a few eurovision parties and most importantly, interact with joost klein (whom she didn't know, mind you) and teach him how to use an F1 simulator. this was going to be a heavy week. thank god it was in a month, right now she had a race to win.

first came the party - london was a welcome destination for the young driver. she thrived under the busy nature of it even in what some would call late, and others early, hours. she couldn't say the same for crowds though, the moving mosh of strangers all too close to each other and trying to show their superiority (the latter was aimed at men to be fair). she did see silvester, and the two had a lengthy conversation that didn't come to a conclusion but rather stayed at "what the fuck, let's make lithuania internationally famous!" she had hoped for a good place in eurovision, if not victory, while silvester (silvestras sounded more like home) had voiced his wish for her to win the upcoming miami grand prix and not only become the first female to do so, but also the first from lithuania. the pressure was on.

unfortunately, she lost silvester after getting a drink, so what really was the point of staying in the now airless room? she grabbed her drink and went to the rooftop that really should've been closed. her short frame slumped against a railing and she lit a cigarette, making it a point to hold it between her thumb and index finger. it was quiet, and london shimmered in different shades of yellow and white. so many people, some praying, some arguing, some alone. it felt peaceful despite the harsh wind that threatened to put out her cigarette.

"cigarette or zoot?" an accented voice sounded out, breaking the howls of wind. she turned around, spotting a man in what would've been a formal outfit had it not been for the pyramid-shaped shoulder pads on his blazer. joost klein, the man she was meant to interact with in front of cameras later that month. "cigarette," she answered, "though they call them something else here," she finished with an unsure smile. "i thought we couldn't bring tobacco in here?" he questioned, with a miscievous undertone in his voice. "they didn't check me, so it's on them," the driver shrugged, "why? you want one?"

"god, yes please!"

she took out another one from her pack, put it in between her glossed lips (joost thought that the gloss suited her) and lit it before giving it to the dutch man. "you know, i once tried eating a cigarette," he started, earning an incredulous look from the shorter girl. "what? did it taste good?" her curiosity was cute, "what do you think?"

"i once nearly swallowed jet fuel," she said with sympathy, "i get it."

joost knew who she was, well vaguely. the only female formula 1 driver and the only lithuanian on the grid. so why did AVROTROS want him to interact with her in addition to her dutch teammate? by that point, the wind had calmed down, an eery silence on brink of errupting had it not been for the music blasting from downstairs. she hummed a few lyrics before he spoke up, startling her heart as if she'd forgotten that he was indeed still there.

"can i take a picture of you right now?"

"why?"

"you're pretty. you look really beautiful in this moment, and i want to capture it."

she thought for a moment. "okay, if you let me take one of you after." he smiled. (he was so going to convince her to be on the cover of his next album)

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note: jumping on the joost klein bandwagon (hehe been a fan for a while! got tickets for his europapa tour so i've been riding on cloud 9). i also love formula 1 and so thought why not combine them?

as the first paragraph indicates there will be (probably short and sweet) chapters and maybe extra ones after if this goes well <3

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Aftermath || LN4 {13}

Pairing: Lando Norris x widow!reader Summary: Lando is still struggling with his anxiety and it seems to only grows with time as he tried to balance work and parenting. Warnings: 18+ only, hurt/comfort, mentions of dad!PND WC: 3.4K

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten || Eleven || Twelve || Thirteen || Epilogue

“I thought this was supposed to get easier,” Lando grumbled as you sat in bed, your laptop screen filled with his image. The bright late afternoon sun was streaming through the window in your room but it was night where Lando was in Miami. “I feel like I’m letting everyone down. I can’t concentrate on the race because I’m thinking about you two, and I can’t be at home because of the race…I hate this.”

 “I don’t know if it's easier, but I guess it will become a new normal in time. We’ll be with you at the next three races, just have to make it through this one.”

“I need this two week break to hurry up and arrive. I just need to be able to go to put Ren to bed and tuck her in,” startled cries sounded from the cot across the room as Renleigh woke from her nap, “and I need to be there to pick her up when she cries. I think I’m going out of my mind.”

The catch in his voice broke your heart and you grabbed your phone off the bedside so you could message Max. “You don’t know how much I wish I could take away the hurt you’re feeling, Lan. I don’t want you to be alone so Max is getting on the first flight he can. And before you argue, he is happy to do it. We are both worried about you, babe.”

“No offence, love, but I don’t need Max, I need my family.” He dropped his chin onto his hand with a sigh. 

“I’m just a phone call away, day or night. But if you want snuggles, Max will have to do for a few more nights.” 

You left the laptop for a moment so you could reach into the cot and bring Ren over to see her daddy, waving her little hand to the camera. A smile finally graced his lips as he waved back and leaned closer to the screen to kiss his camera. 

Placing her on the bed, you both watched her try to crawl towards Lando. “That’s it, my girl,” he praised as she rocked forward before face planting into the soft blankets. “Getting there, you’ll be racing around in no time.”

“Speaking of racing, you should be getting ready for bed,” you reminded him gently. “Max will be there in the morning to keep you company and you know you can talk to him about anything.”

“You make it sound like I need counselling,” he joked but it fell flat when you shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, it’s just…your job is already so stressful, then the addition of a baby…it’s a big change and it’s alright to admit that. Dads can get PND too.” 

“Really?” His brows pinched together as he fell silent. 

“Even if you are fine, I think talking to someone else might still help. Remember when you got me to go to counselling? You said it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of and it isn’t.”

He didn’t look convinced as he muttered, “yeah, maybe.”

“Just think about it,” you suggested as he started to yawn. “And get some rest, babe. I love you.”

You felt like you had come out of hibernation as you sat beside Lando, your fingers entwined as he drove to Imola. Since giving birth you had hardly travelled anywhere, opting to keep Renleigh’s arrival private, so everyone close enough to know about her came to your house to visit her. That would all change on Sunday and to say you were nervous was the mother of all understatements.

Your stomach was tied up in knots just thinking about trying to navigate the busy paddock with your precious baby. Lando had already organised plenty of security to escort you everywhere but your overthinking and paranoia whispered that there were still so many things that could go wrong. It lingered even when you tried to focus on the here and now.

The radio played quietly in the background but it was Ren that you listened to, her babbling in response to Lando’s chattering keeping you both entertained and distracted. You turned in the seat to see her smile in the small mirror and her papaya socks kicking in the air.

“Someone is excited to make her debut,” Lando said with a chuckle. He gripped the wheel with one hand and the other came to rest on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. There had hardly been a moment where he wasn’t holding some part of you since his return, needing the comfort of your touch to ground himself and suppress his growing anxiety. 

This was the most relaxed he had been in months and you smiled back at him, grateful that your husband was returning to his old self. 

“Why are you smiling like that?” he asked with a nervous laugh between glances as he drove.

“Do you ever just stop and think ‘I have never been happier than I am at this moment’?” you asked as you traced the beauty spots that dotted his arm like a constellation of stars that would always lead you home. “It’s almost painful how happy I am right now, like my heart is going to burst right out of my chest.”

“Please don’t,” he chuckled, reaching up to stroke your cheek before concentrating back on the road. “That was me this morning, well, every morning I wake up beside you. Seeing the sunlight catch your hair, the peace on your face when you bury it in my neck and snore.”

Ren’s arms startled into the air at the sudden laugh you barked and Lando’s grin grew at the sound of pure, unfiltered joy. “That was almost romantic! You were so close to a blowjob, until you lied.”

“You do snore, and it’s cute!” he stated seriously before casting you a sly smile. “So about that blowjob…”

You leaned over the console and kissed the sharp line of his jaw, tracing the curve to his ear. “Tell me I snore one more time.” He clamped his lips closed and you smirked as you sat back in the seat. “Smart man.”

Lando put the car in park and turned the engine off but made no move to open the door as he sat quietly with his hands still on the wheel. His qualifying had gone great the day before and he was starting the race in P3 but the race was far from his mind as he looked at the high fence ahead, knowing the circuit was just on the other side.

“What if we are doing the wrong thing?”

“Lan, we can’t keep her bubble wrapped for the rest of her life. And we are going to make mistakes, that’s just a fact, but there’s only one way to find out.” You looked out the window and saw a group of men wearing McLaren shirts that showed off their large muscles. “Your papaya army has arrived, and they bought the big guns too.”

Lando snorted and relaxed a little, though the wariness never left his eyes as he unbuckled his seatbelt and stole a kiss. “Thank you.”

Lando’s fingers tightened around yours and he placed his other hand protectively over Renleigh’s back. He had debated putting her into the stroller that remained folded up in the car boot but the need to keep her close made him strap the front pack to his chest. Every few steps his head would dip down and he would place a tender kiss to the top of her head, whispering soothing words that were more for himself than her.

“What’s the weather forecast?” you asked as you tipped your head back to the skies and wondered if you had imagined the kiss of raindrop on your skin. 

“Chance of rain, but it should only be light.” He took a look around himself and narrowed his eyes at the grey clouds on the horizon before picking up the pace a little. His quick walk stalled when he reached the paddock gates and patted his pockets for his pass to scan and swore under his breath. 

“Looking for this?” you teased as you pulled his pass out of your pocket along with yours. 

“Have I told you how much I missed having you here?” he said as he took his pass and scanned it, his photo popping up on the little screen before he stepped through the barrier. 

“You may have mentioned it once or twice. Is Maria here already?”

Lando nodded, mentioning he had messaged her earlier and she had already arrived at the track with Zak. 

“Maybe grand-mere can look after you for a little while,” you whispered as you tickled Ren’s feet through her socks. “Then mummy and daddy can sneak off to his room for a few minutes.”

 “Minutes?” Lando scoffed at the insult and you grinned knowing his competitive side was coming out despite the fact the man’s stamina was far longer.

“If you want to prove me wrong…”

“I’ve done that multiple times a day, for the last two weeks, love,” he smirked as he whispered in your ear as you walked along. “But if your memory is that bad, I’m sure I can remind you.”

Your reply was lost as a huge swell of people came into view through the gaps in the wall of muscle ahead, the chaotic screams suddenly piercing the air as Lando was spotted by the crowd. Your mouth was still parted in shock but the sound of a shaky breath didn’t come from your lips. 

“Can we get to the garage, please?” you asked the head of security and he nodded, just as eager to make it through the mass of people. 

As effortless as Lando made it seem, he was never truly comfortable in large crowds and the birth of his daughter had only increased his social anxiety. You could feel it now as his palm heated against yours, his skin clammy and grip tightening to an almost painful hold. He was using you to anchor himself and fight back the panic so you bit the inside of your cheek and let him crush your hand.

“Almost there, baby,” you soothed as the men moved to the shape of an arrow that speared the crowd apart. 

Cameras flashed and fans screamed as they spotted the baby tucked into Lando’s chest, just the brown tufts of her curls visible. Those too were hidden as Lando cupped the back of her head and hummed a sweet lullaby to distract himself from the questions thrown his way. There was no way he could bring himself to stop and answer any of them until Ren was safely in the McLaren area, he couldn’t risk her safety among the strangers. It was only when he caught sight of the grey and orange coloured motorhome that he could muster up the courage to slip his hand away from yours and offer a small wave. 

The fear and reservations you had held never had time to surface while you focused on Lando but when you passed the doors and the outside world was silenced you finally breathed a sigh of relief. “We did it, Lan.”

“I don’t like this,” he admitted as he continued to his driver room. A bassinet was already set up with McLaren blankets and it made his lips twitch into an almost smile as you helped him to take Ren out of the front pack. “I can’t believe she slept through all that.”

He placed her into the bassinet and tucked her in while you wrapped your arms around his waist and kissed his shoulder. You knew it wouldn’t be long until she woke up for a feed as a heaviness ached in your breasts so you had to make the most of the quiet moments while you could, dragging Lando to the couch and forcing him to sit down. 

“What’s going on in that handsome head of yours?” you asked as you combed your fingers through his hair and tugged the stands so he looked at you. “Talk to me.”

“I thought having you both here would be easier, but I still feel sick,” he admitted after a minute of drawn out silence. “I need you here, don’t get me wrong, I hated being away from you but now I can't…I don’t even know how to explain it.”

You waited patiently for him to collate his thoughts, holding his hand while he watched Ren sleep peacefully. He longed for that peacefulness too.

“Infinite possibilities, it’s something Andrea gets us to think about when we race. One move can make a difference, one millimetre off the line could be the difference between the fastest lap or ending up in the gravel. Every action has an infinite amount of possibilities and it’s my job to figure out which is most likely to happen.” He took a deep breath from his quiet ramblings and exhaled a long sigh as he slowed down his words. “I can’t stop thinking about the infinite possibilities with Ren. Every bad thing that could happen, everything that could go wrong, I see it in my head. All. The. Time. I can’t stop.”

His words died out with a sob and you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into your embrace as he fell apart. This was the moment you had been expecting, though it was still gut wrenching to witness. All the ups and downs this season had been leading to one cataclysmic peak where he had to release the pent up thoughts he had tried to suppress.

“Do you remember that day at Silverstone, the first time I came back to the paddock?” You knew he was listening by the way he held his breath to silence the sobs that jolted his shoulders. Rubbing his back softly, you kissed his temple and stared at the poster on the wall, seeing how much his face had matured in the last four years.

“When I sat in your room alone it was like time stood still. I had so much time to think that I imagined every horror scenario of you and your car and that fear made my stomach turn. I couldn’t eat anything all day,” you admitted as he pulled back with shimmering eyes and damp cheeks. “But the moment I saw you napping in the cockpit of your car I could finally think again. Not a single one of those scenarios came close to what was actually happening in that moment.”

You wiped his eyes and cupped his face in your hands. “It doesn’t matter that there’s endless possibilities for how the future might go, Lando. All that matters is this moment, and wasting time thinking about things that may never even happen only makes us miss out on today.”

“You aren’t scared we are making the wrong decisions?”

“Of course I’m scared, babe. But I know the man I married and I know that the decisions we make, whether they are right or wrong, come from a good place.” You placed a hand over his heart, feeling the bump under his shirt of the necklace he wore for Ren. “That’s the best any parent can hope for.”

His hand came to rest over yours for a moment before he lifted it to his lips and kissed your wedding ring. “I need to go but I’ll be back before the race starts.”

You nodded as he went to the small bathroom and washed his face, looking clear headed and calm once more. “Are you alright?” you asked as he started to undress and grab his fireproofs from the closet.

He pulled the skin tight material over his head and looked at your reflection in the mirror. “No, but I will be.”

The honesty was more relieving despite his words and you were glad he hadn’t just lied and said he was fine.

With a small smile, he leaned into the bassinet and kissed Ren’s cheek. “I love you, little lady, more than anything in this whole wide world.”

Five years after Imola had stolen your breath away, it had done it again. This time your voice was hoarse from the screams of support and happiness as Lando won the race.

It was as if all the tears ever shed at the circuit were released from the heavens to cascade upon the track with only three laps to go. Max and Charles had just passed the pit entrance before the deluge fell but Lando had made the split second decision to box and change to full wets. He had quickly caught up with the better grip and took the lead when they pitted on the next lap.

You hadn’t been able to move from where you stood rooted on the balcony in front of the home straight. Lando had always been able to dance in the rain, making his car sing in harmony to the beat of the drops on the blacktop. This was his element, but every turn gave you heart palpitations.

Yellow flags flew as some drivers tried their luck with their slicks, praying the rain would pass, only to spin out when they hit a puddle. One rookie aquaplaned off the track, leaving tire ruts in the grass, before rejoining the track and you gasped as Lando had to swerve to avoid him.

“We saw there was a close call on that final turn. How stressful was that?”

“It was scary, so scary. Knowing that my wife was watching just ahead, and seeing that car come right in front of me…my wife and my daughter, they were all I could think about. It’s so wet out there, turn too quick and there’s just no grip, nothing to keep me on the track. I was certain I was gone when that car came at me.”

Lando brushed his cap off and combed his hair as his lips pressed tight to hide the tremble. “It was so scary. You just have no idea what it’s like in those split seconds where you react on instinct and don’t know if you have just saved your life or forfeited it. It’s a risk, and I used to find it fun when I was younger but not now. I have too much to risk now.”

You cradled Ren closer as the McLaren team let you through to the front of the barrier. You hadn’t planned on stepping out of the motorhome but Lando was clearly not okay and you needed to get to him.

“It’s hard to be excited over winning when I thought I had just about made my wife a widow again, or that my daughter was going to grow up and not know me,” he said, answering another question that you had missed as you navigated your way out of the garage. “As much as I love this sport, and I am grateful for all the people who have helped me to get to where I am, I love my family more.”

He seemed to sense you in the crowd and Renleigh started to cry in your arms as you reached the barrier. The reporter followed him as he crossed the short distance and pressed his sweaty forehead to yours. “I’m going to be alright,” he whispered for only you to hear before he took Ren, who instantly settled on his shoulder, as the crowd ‘awww’d at the sight.

“I have been thinking hard about this for the last few months,” he continued as he gently bounced Ren back to sleep, “but this will be my last season in Formula One. I have always put 100% into what means the most to me and I haven’t been able to do that with racing taking me away from my family.”

The shock that rippled through the crowd and stunned the reporter into silence didn’t reach you. You had seen the look in his eyes when he parked in front of the 1st place signage and pulled his helmet off. He hadn’t thrown his hands in the air, he hadn’t waved to the crowd or his team. He had fallen to his knees and ripped his gloves off to feel the solid ground beneath his palms as the rain continued to fall.

The microphone shifted to you as you watched Lando hold Ren tighter and brush his lips over her dark curls. “It must have been harrowing to watch that last lap, especially since it wasn’t far from where you laid a wreath earlier today.”

“I trust every decision Lando makes. I knew he would make it through,” you said with a reassuring smile to your husband as you clutched the necklace that held your first wedding ring. “And every year when I visit I ask René to watch over him. Maybe he was listening all this time.”

Click here for the epilogue.

Tagging: @yunnie-f1 @neiich @zendayabelova @stillbreathin @dr3lover @writerscurse @christianpulisic10 @alwaysclassyeagle @alexisquinnlee-bc @purplephantomwolf @lightsoutletsgo @pleasantducktimetravel @pierre-gasllllllyyyyyy @holy-macncheese-balls @belennasif @ophcelia @love4lando @ryiamarie @mickslover @tyna-19

[dragonnan]

May Prompts 2024

May 10: "Choice"

What had that busybody old neighbor of hers called this? May December romance; that was it – with Martha decidedly in the winter category, grey tips and all. Oh, it certainly wasn’t anything actually romantic. At her age! And not with one, who’d scarcely looked out of short pants, the first time Martha had spotted him outside the club with that awful Jefferies person. She’d seen far too many, like him, given her husband’s line of business. She had nearly sighed and looked past this one, as well, except...

It was those eyes that had done it. Not stirring her to passion, goodness no. But that way he'd looked through her skin, all young and ancient, and saw the self she'd hidden under bright scarves and foundation; thick enough to hide the darkest bruise.

William, he'd called himself. Too skinny. That had been her first thought followed by “too young”... to be on his own and sleeping rough and buying drugs from those terrible dealers, who hadn't even the decency to offer clean needles, much less clean product. She'd, quite quickly, made the choice that he couldn't stay there and had arranged to provide a room above the club. It wasn't very quiet, sadly, but it was clean, off the street, and relatively safe. Little chance of harassment, from dangerous types, with David and Brass standing watch outside the doors below.

And maybe... maybe it was that posh voice... reminding her so much of the home that she hadn't seen in sixteen years.

The first time Martha had seen William cast aside that child-like aura had been after another one of Frank’s rages. He’d held a tissue against her split cheek and told her not to worry – that he’d take care of things. Far from soothing her his statement had frightened her. She knew Frank was involved in a good deal of terrible business. She also knew that he’d been married once before and that his previous spouse had died. Martha was a smart woman and hadn’t needed to be led to water to know there were bodies beneath the surface.

So, when Sherlock had gone out that evening – and remained out all night – Martha had been terrified.

However, when he’d returned, the following morning, several Miami police had been with him. It would be weeks before she’d gotten the entire story from him – enough time for the investigation to complete and to assure that she truly hadn’t known anything.

By the end of the trial, Frank had been extradited to Texas, where he would face the death penalty. Martha had divorced him and she had sold off the business and all of Frank’s assets.

It was William's testimony which had ensured the death penalty at the trial held months later – a period of time in which Martha had gone though tremendous life changes. In addition to selling the club, she she had also sold their massive home, and had purchased a smaller beach house in Ponte Vedra. William had gone with her to assist her in her move. She had invited him to stay on for a while, as her first boarder. Well, she hadn't felt right about leaving him on his own. He'd seemed the type to get into trouble without someone to look out for him.

The day they’d moved in, William had given her a small wrapped package. “A housewarming gift”, he’d said. Inside had been a necklace. It was gold, with a delicate, fleur de le pendant, and tiny amethyst stones.

“Oh, William, it’s lovely!”

“I nicked it from Frank’s safe the night they arrested him.” he’d said – then chuckled when she’d scoffed and slapped his arm.

When had things changed between them? Martha supposed the better question would be if they had ever changed – truly – or had always been that way from the start. First impressions aside there had been no great sea change; no sudden transition from barely acquaintances to motherly guardian. Her life with Frank had never allowed for even the concept of children. The conversation, in their early days of marriage, had been clipped short and final. But now, with William... It should have felt odd – thinking of him like a child when he was, at least technically, a grown man. But there was no shaking the affection she felt for the boy. They would sit for hours, at the beach, as the waves rolled up the sand and the sky went deep blue to hazy pink and orange. His long, skinny, fingers would gather beneath his chin and he would seem to be seeing nothing at all while she would page though a book or simply watch the people go by.

In the evenings she often enjoyed cooking – though she wasn’t his maid and insisted on his participation if he wanted to eat. And, oh, what a precious, awkward creature, he’d been. Once, she'd been preparing dinner, spaghetti, when he'd leaned over her shoulder with that endless, cat-like, curiosity of his. She'd batted him away with her fingers and he'd dodged backward – only to trip over one of the kitchen chairs and land on the linoleum in a tangle. He’d spent the rest of the evening locked away in the spare bedroom; obviously embarrassed. It hadn’t been until the following morning when, sheepishly, he’d emerged in time to help with breakfast.

Ah, but it couldn't have gone on forever and, far too soon, it was time for him to move on.

One evening, some months on, she'd been washing their few dishes from dinner. While rinsing soap suds from the plates, William had glided, silently, into the room. Without a word, he’d taken up station at her side to dry. It had only required minutes to wash up; after which they had simply remained there, watching the neighbor’s children playing outside her kitchen window. Finally he'd said, in a voice so small and sad, “I don’t want to go home.”

Martha had hugged him and he had clung to her, tightly, without saying anything more.

A week later he had been gone. She'd insisted he keep her contact information. He'd assured her it wouldn't be “deleted” though she'd stopped trying to understand his odd word choices long ago.

She'd watched him board his plane; bag filled with his favorite pastries, she'd insisted on preparing for him, while feeling so much like a mum sending her only child off to college.

She would not see him again for nearly a decade.

One morning, out of the blue, she'd received a call from a man introducing himself as “Sherlock Holmes' brother”. The reason behind her silence had been quickly deduced by him (as if she'd need anything more than that little eccentricity to confirm this man as family). In a stiff voice, he'd followed with, “you know him as William.”

He was needing a place to stay. This “Mycroft” would, of course, cover the majority of the cost.

Martha had told him he could very well keep his money. She would not allow another man to have a single quid to hold over her head.

And, of course, he could rent from her.

Of course he could.

She couldn't wait to see him.

When the movers had brought Will- Sherlock’s things to the flat, she had been delighted to discover he wouldn’t be moving in alone.

She had a good feeling about it. A very good feeling indeed.

She knew – had known from the first, really – that the best choice she had ever made was to take in that young, frightened boy, all those years ago.

With fresh excitement, that had not caught her so keenly in a decade, Martha grabbed her hoover and headed up the seventeen steps to the flat above. It was time to get ready, after all.

William was coming home.

Comment on AO3

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Parasite: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Summary: You're not going to let these nightmares control you. You're not going to succumb to the pain that's so desperately clutching to you. Well, that's what you tell yourself.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"This unsub is a white-collar con man who embodies what behaviorists call the dark triad--narcissism, Machiavellianism, and aberrant self-promotion. What that means is that everything revolves around this guy. He manipulates and exploits others using dishonest tactics, and he's become a menace to society."

"He's also what we call a Casanova con man," Rossi adds. "He seduces women to get to their money. It's standard behavior for him to have casual sex with multiple partners and then use that as a weapon to accomplish his goals."

"We have his sketch, and here on the board are his aliases," Derek says and shows the officers the pictures. "He frequents high-end venues like country clubs, hotel bars, and membership-only establishments."

"Notify the banks," Russell orders. "He's constantly moving money by opening and closing bank accounts. He's active in Miami and Fort Lauderdale, but he could be in other wealthy communities, too. Look at places like Boca Raton or Coral Gables."

"He has too many aliases in his head right now, and it's causing him to fracture mentally. This is the loss of control that triggers his violence and makes him dangerous to be around. Any additional stress will make him more likely to attack."

After the meeting is disbanded, you sit at the conference table with your dream notebook open. The entire team is working on the case, they won't miss you for it right now. You hate that you're putting this job second, but if you don't try to get better, you won't have a job you love. You won't have a team that has been so understanding.

The next easiest nightmare to rewrite is the one where Tobias kidnapped and tortured Spencer. You think about that night on a daily basis because you could have done shit differently. Had you not split up from him, you might have caught Tobias before he could kidnap Spencer.

You keep the beginning the same: you and Spencer left the station to follow up on a witness statement. You arrived at the house. You talked to Tobias. You got kicked out before you could ask him any questions. You snooped where you shouldn't have been snooping. Everything changes the second he ran off in the opposite direction. Not this time.

"He's in the barn! Come on!"

"Spencer, we should go back and try to contact Hotch," you hiss but follow him.

He takes out his gun, and you take out yours just to be safe.

"Why? We have him. We can bring him in. You cover the front, I'm gonna go around back. Hotch knows we came here. He'll come looking for us. We'll just wait him out."

"No, Spencer, we really shouldn't split up," you try to say, but he runs off without another word.

Go after him! Do not go into that barn!

You run after Spencer and grab his elbow to prevent him from getting further from you. He sees the worried look in your eyes and realizes what a dumb idea it is to split up.

"Spencer, please. Let's wait for backup to arrive. If he gets away, we'll catch him."

"You're right. Let's head back to the car."

There. The ending that should have happened. Spencer would have never gotten kidnapped and addicted to Dilaudid. Something else that was your fault entirely. You shouldn't have left him alone. Spencer walks into the room where you and Russell are, and you put away your notebook.

"I think I found something. I spoke to his previous victims. Before San Diego, they described our unsub as driving exotic sports cars. After San Diego, they described him as driving larger sedans and SUVs. Before San Diego, he lived in condos and referred to them as bachelor pads. After San Diego, he lived in gated communities with large yards."

"There's only one reason that forces a man to downgrade his lifestyle. He has a wife and a kid. Multiple, maybe," you say.

"Why would he start a family?" Russell asks.

"Because he wants to appear normal, and a family does that for a psychopath. Wives usually serve a purpose like as a caretaker or homemaker. They value their offspring as an extension of themselves, and it also feeds their narcissistic ego."

"These are interesting theories, but how does this help us?"

"As a forensic countermeasure, con men put everything in their wives' names like bank accounts, cars, and homes. If his wife isn't complicit in his crimes, she'll still be using her real name. If we can find the wife, we can find the unsub."

Before any work can be put toward that, there are reports of another murder victim, Lorraine Horton. This time, she is dumped on the side of the road like trash. At first glance, you feel constricted like you can't move much despite being in an open field. You rub your arms as if you're cold but you're really trying to figure out why you're feeling this way. You walk closer to Lorraine and see her inside of a trunk begging to be let out. That's why you feel constricted. You're feeling her last moments before the unsub beat her with a tire iron.

"She has massive blunt force trauma to the head; it's the same as the others," Emily says.

"She was trapped inside of a trunk. He beat her to death with a tire iron," you say.

"Does it make sense for him to dump her like this?" Russell asks.

"He's killed two people in two days. His fracturing is intensifying. When a criminal devolves like this, they're capable of anything. JJ said a man reported his wife missing last night. The description matches the body. This is Lorraine."

"Do we know anything about her investment history?"

"The team is looking into it now."

"Okay, so he killed his first victim in Miami, left town, came to Fort Lauderdale, killed his second victim there, but he didn't leave town for his third. Is there a significance to his staying in Fort Lauderdale?"

"What if his family lives here?" Spencer speaks up. "Maybe that's why he's trying to eliminate threats to himself here because this is his home where he needs to protect his identity."

You take out your phone as soon as you hear it ringing.

"Hey, Pen."

"Y/N, I feel like I've been sent on a wild snipe hunt. Do you have any idea how many women in South Florida lease luxury cars and rent mansions? I will answer. Too many. That's how many."

"Okay, narrow the search down to Fort Lauderdale only. Look at women who moved here eight to twelve months ago and see if any of them have any history with San Diego."

"Okay, I'll call you back when I've found the elusive snipe creature."

You want to smile at her snarky comments but you're so tired that you can't find the energy to do so. JJ and Rossi immediately look into Lorraine's financial history and go to the bank where she has an account. They talk to the manager who confirms that Lorraine is one of their customers. What he can tell them is that she recently came into more money. Her mother passed and she sold her house which got her a pretty good sum for it.

The first victim was in real estate, and you know that's not a coincidence. That's how he's finding his victims.

"We've been asking ourselves how he finds his victims. We know now it's through real estate. When you sell a house, your property becomes public record. Your name goes on these lists," Rossi says once back at the station. "Lists that are compiled by lead brokers and sold to real estate companies."

Your phone rings and you place Penelope on speakerphone.

"Hey, Pen."

"Oh, man, it is raining snipe all up in here. Did you know that your boat owners Nik and Dina Mickelson sold a house in Hawaii about eight months ago?"

"Do any of them have a direct connection to Carla?"

"Carla generated these letters advertising the swanky beachfront condos her company sells. Lorraine's address along with the Mickelson's address are buried in a spreadsheet in Carla's laptop."

"That's how the unsub found his victims. He used Carla to get her leads. It's why he targeted her. She gave him access to a list of people with a large amount of liquid assets."

"We need that list," JJ says.

"Already flying to you. That is not all, folks. I think I may have found the wife. I did I search on women who've lived in Fort Lauderdale for the last eight to twelve months who rent houses and cars, and who have a history in San Diego. I came up with about a dozen names but only one of them works in real estate."

"Who?"

"Rebecca Hodges. She has a nine-year-old son named John Davison Hodges, born in San Diego. The father on his birth certificate is William Hodges. I have the address of the house she's renting, too."

"Let's head over there. Morgan, pull the son out of school. JJ and Reid, go over the list of potential victims. If anybody knows the unsub, send units to them."

The only people sticking around the police station are JJ and Spencer. Together, they work to find potential victims and send units out to protect them. Derek tries to pull the kid out of school only to realize that William has already done so. He is going to try and leave with his family. If he gets on a plane or goes to another state under a different name, then it's going to be a lot more difficult to find him. If he leaves the country, it's almost impossible.

Instead of tracking the husband, Penelope might have luck finding his wife instead. The only issue is that she has two phones listed under her name. One could be hers and one could be William's, but they're both active in the same quadrant right now in some posh neighborhood in Fort Lauderdale. The same neighborhood as potential victims Hector and Brooke Sanchez. The same Hector and Brooke Sanchez that Spencer can't get ahold of.

You, Hotch, and Rossi meet up with Emily and Russell in front of the house where the active cell phones are.

"What's the wife doing at a victim's house?" Emily asks.

"Were we wrong about her? Do you think she's complicit?"

"She might have found out about William's extracurricular activities and might want to warn his mistress. If she were in on it, he'd use her in his cons."

"We got a car down the street and one in the driveway. Both plates match the wife's name," Russell says.

"Remember, there's a nine-year-old boy in there, and I wouldn't put it past him to hurt his own family or himself."

"We'll take the back," Emily says.

She and Derek head to the back of the house while you, Hotch, Russell, and Rossi head to the front of the house. Before you can knock on the door, William opens it and steps outside. His son, his wife, and the woman he's fucking is with him but that doesn't stop you and everyone else from pointing your guns at him.

"FBI! Put your hands in the air!"

"Oh, my God," his wife squeaks.

"Please step back," Emily says, scaring the shit out of her.

"Let the boy go to his mother and put your hands up," Hotch says calmly. "You must be tired of keeping up with all these lies. You don't need to do this anymore."

"Let him go."

"Bill, please let him go," his wife pleads.

Bill knows he isn't getting out of this alive, and it doesn't make sense to bring his innocent son down with him. He kisses the top of his head and allows him to go to his mother.

"Sweetie, come here," she whispers and brings him into her arms.

"Put your hands up," Hotch orders.

William doesn't do it right away as he tries to think of a way out of it, but he eventually slowly reaches into his pants pocket. Russell interprets this as him getting out a weapon and shooting him in the chest.

"No!" you gasp.

The damage is done. William's wife tries to shield her son as best as possible but he already saw his father get shot right in front of him. He's dead before paramedics can arrive on site. Another case over with yet you feel so drained. Is this feeling ever going to go away? When you get home, it's too far into the night to stay up. You're dreading this part. When you weren't thinking about the case, you were imagining your rewritten dream about Tobias and Spencer over and over again.

Maybe this time will be different.

"Are you going to be okay?" Spencer asks when you slide into bed with him.

"Tonight will be different. I won't have a nightmare."

You do and it's heartbreaking at yet another failure on your part.

"Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive." - Sir Walter Scott

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[pas-de-duex]

Prinxiety Week Day 7: Music

Read it on ao3 here! It has an additional chapter with the extra prompt: Concert!

Trigger warnings: anger, jealousy

@prinxietyweek

Virgil Storm was on top of the world.

Underneath the bright lights, in front of roaring crowds, sweaty from performing his latest hit, he felt better than ever.

Right now, watching one of his biggest fans on a date, he felt like shit.

He had absolutely no right to feel this way.

It wasn’t even that Roman was a groupie or anything (gods know he had plenty of those). Roman was just a huge, huge fan. He went to every concert, every meet and greet, and every interview Virgil’s band gave in the greater Miami area. Hell, Virgil had even seen him in Atlanta, Georgia one time! Roman was a consenting adult who had every right to go on a date with whoever he so wished.

So why did Virgil feel so shitty seeing him with some guy who looked like he should have a wife and kids at home, not sitting with Virgil’s newly acquired crush in a witchy tea restaurant that had recently opened up downtown?

Virgil was supposed to be picking up some new guitar picks from Logan in five minutes. Instead he found himself marching into said restaurant, and sliding into the booth next to Roman.

“Hey Roman.”

Roman turned to him in shock.

“You-you, you- you-“

“Well hey kiddo! You must be that Virgil Storm Roman keeps telling me about.”

“Patton,”

“Let me tell ya, Roman here LOVES your music! He's got posters of you all over his room! He owns every cd, record, hell even cassette tape you’ve ever released! He’s been to a ton of your concerts! Why, he even dragged me to one in Atlanta last year-“

“Patton!!” Roman stared daggers at the other man, while Virgil gave a satisfied smirk. “Ahem, sorry, you’ll have to excuse my friend Patton here. He just moved to Miami from Atlanta and we are, um, catching up.” Roman gave Virgil a sheepish smile.

“Hey, no worries. Just thought I’d come say hi to my biggest fan. I’ll get out of your hair if-“

“No! Uh, I mean, would you, would you care to join us? I mean- you don’t have to if you don’t want to, I mean, I’m surprised you even remember me, let alone that you know my name, I MEAN-“

Roman put his head on the table in shame.

Virgil felt his phone buzz. It was no doubt Logan wondering where the heck he was.

“Yeah, I've got some time.”

He quickly shut off his phone and took a menu from Roman.

“So, how long have you two known each other?”

“Oh Roman and I have been friends since kindergarten! I moved away to Atlanta for college, but we’re still the bestest of friends!”

Patton ended up doing most of the talking. Roman spent most of the time avoiding Virgil’s eyes, and Virgil spent most of the time staring at Roman.

“Well this was great, Roman! Now that I’m finally home we’ll have to do this more often! Oh and it was nice to meet you, Virgil!” Patton gave Roman a hug and waved to Virgil before heading

“So, just to make 100% certain, he’s not your boyfriend, right?”

“What? Patton? No! He’s just-he’s just a very good friend. I prefer guys that are,”

“Tall, dark, and mysterious?”

“Well…y-yes I suppose so.”

Virgil smiled and put his arm around Roman’s shoulders. “Wanna run an errand with me then, babe?”

Roman blushed. “Uh, sure! It’s a date! I mean, not a date, I mean-“

“It’s a date.” Virgil kissed Roman’s cheek and started walking towards Logan’s music store.

“Finally! Never have I ever had such trouble getting in contact with someone over guitar picks! Oh, hello Roman. Why do you consistently order 3,000 of them Virgil! If you wouldn’t sign them and throw them into the crowds, maybe you wouldn’t have to keep ordering so many!”

“Wait, time out, you know Roman?”

Logan looked like he was about to take off his tie and beat Virgil to death with it.

“That’s what you took from all that? Yes Virgil, yes I know Roman! I think I would know my own brother-in-law very well!l

“Brother-in-law?”

Logan was dangerously close to murdering Virgil.

“Um; how about those guitar picks, Logan? I’m sure Virgil is happy to take them off your hands-“ Roman murmured the rest of his sentence.

“What was that, babe?” Virgil asks.

“I said I’m sure you're happy to take the guitar picks and maybe-“ he murmured again.

“Logan’s not going to get them until you tell me what you want,” Virgil said coyly.

“I said you’re happy to take them off your hands thenmaybeyoullsignoneandgiveittomebecauseivebeentooverfifteenofyourconcertsandnevercaughtoneofyourguitarpicks.”

Virgil laughed. Logan rolled his eyes and went to grab the box of guitar picks.

“Of course I’ll give you one, babe. But it wouldn’t be authentic if I didn’t get to play you something first.”

He swiped a pick from Logan’s jar on the counter, and went and grabbed an acoustic guitar off the wall.

“Hey! That’s a vintage 1966 Martin 18! You’d better be careful with that!”

Virgil ignored his friend and sat on a stool Logan conveniently had near the wall. He strummed a few cords and then began to sing.

“At last, my love has come along, my lonely days are over, and life is like a song!”

Roman could’ve swooned. Virgil finished up his song, took out a sharpie, and autographed the pick. He hung the guitar back on the wall, then got down on one knee and presented the pick to Roman.

“Roman… would you do me the honor of going on a proper date with me?”

Roman took the pick with shaking hands.

“Yes, yes a thousand times yes!!”

[avacoleman]

when the lights go out || a firstprince fic

summary: Henry Fox’s career is in crisis and his dating life isn’t faring much better either.  After a chance encounter with a charming man becomes memorable for all the wrong reasons, Henry throws himself into his next assignment: writing the memoir of a beloved C-list actor. Henry, however, knows Alex best for the role he played as his random, awkward one-night stand. Henry enters their professional partnership keen on keeping their relationship just that. But after Henry confesses that their hookup was less than spectacular, Alex concots an arrangement that Henry is unable to resist. In addition to ghostwriting Alex’s life story, Henry will teach him a thing or two about satisfying a man.  As they spend months out on the road together, they must decide if the connection between them is yet another story worth telling.

chapter 6/8 || rated e || read on ao3 *updates every tues. and fri. *

Miami, FL SuperCon Day 1 Their first day in Miami finds them at one of the city’s most notable radio stations just before noon. For months now, it’s been exciting to shadow Alex like this on different appearances, to get these glimpses into what the life of a Hollywood star is like. Through it all, Henry has most admired how completely down to Earth Alex is, seemingly indifferent to just how interesting a life he leads. The elevator doors open on the tenth floor and Henry instantly finds himself squinting against the sunlight that bathes the entire space in natural light.  Employees mill about, some answering calls, others walking past quickly with their heads together discussing something. It’s all fast-paced and exciting and immediately, Henry feels swept up in the flurry of activity. He follows after Alex as he heads straight to the receptionist area. The woman at the desk is on the phone, typing something into her computer. She looks up once, then does a double take, her eyes widening just fractionally before she composes herself and finishes her call by the time they reach her. “Hi, I’m–,” Alex starts to say, but the receptionist smiles widely at him, already getting to her feet.

“Alex Claremont-Diaz, yes. If you could just follow me, please,” she says, smoothing out her dress and coming out from behind her desk.

Her heels practically echo as she leads them down the corridor. Henry takes in the different posters adorning the walls of radio hosts and promotional shots throughout the years for concerts the station has put on.

The receptionist rounds a corner and brings them to a halt just outside of a door paneled with a window. Henry gets a clear view of the studio and a man seated inside, fiddling with headphones.

The receptionist opens the door, gesturing for Alex and Henry to head inside.

The studio is just like any other, microphones and other tech equipment placed on a large gray table with swivel chairs around it. There are more posters inside the room, but also photos of presumably past guests. Henry sees quite a few familiar celebrity faces smiling back at him from their frames.

Introductions are made and the show’s host gives Alex a quick rundown of how the interview will go. It’s as straightforward as they come.

Henry makes himself into a fly on the wall, taking a seat on the sidelines, checking and double checking that his phone is off as Alex gets situated at the table and slips his headphones on.

A man in the adjoining room counts them down and before Henry knows it, on-air light flashes on, the host welcoming listeners to the top of the hour.

Henry isn’t even the one being interviewed, but his heart beats a bit faster, an antsy feeling sinking in. Alex, however, is the picture of cool as he sits back and makes himself at home as the host continues to speak.

“We are live and on the air with Crescent Valley star Alex Claremont-Diaz. You know him, you love him. And in just three days, you can see him at SuperCon here in fabulous Miami before the show returns for its well-awaited special. But enough of hearing from me. Let’s get into it with the man himself. Alex, it’s a pleasure to have you here.”

Alex’s smiles warmly and Henry recognizes that easy way Alex has of making people feel close to him. It’s the same way Alex has been this entire tour with fans all over the country. It’s the same way Alex had charmed Henry that very first night in New York. There’s a certain charisma Alex exudes that no one is immune to. Henry, arguably, knows that better than anyone.

The interview gets underway and the two chat for about fifteen minutes about Alex’s career and time on the show before the host winds down to talk about the upcoming special.

“Fans have been asking for this for years. How does it feel to be able to give viewers another look at the series?” the host asks.

Alex smiles a little to himself and there’s something almost bashful in his expression that Henry finds endearing. 

“It’s nothing short of incredible. The support our fans have shown us since the beginning and all these years later means far more than I, or anyone in our cast and crew, could ever properly say. Their love and passion made this happen and I’m beyond grateful for it.”

Alex shakes his head, clearly taking a moment to get his thoughts together.

“This role launched my career. It’s given me the opportunity to interact with people from all walks of life, from all corners of the Earth. That’s a gift like nothing else. From all of us on camera and behind the scenes, I just want to say a massive thank you to everyone who tunes in and I hope you guys enjoy it.”

The interview wraps with the host reminding listeners that Alex will be at SuperCon in a couple of days. Henry watches as the on-air light goes from red to gray and he finds himself wondering for the hundredth time how Alex is able to juggle this life. Interviews, cons, filming, photoshoots, it’s a complete whirlwind and yet Alex seems perfectly at home with it all. He supposes years in the industry must have made this all second nature, but Henry doubts the speed of it all would ever be something he’d be able to adjust to fully.

Alex takes off his headphones and thanks the host for his time. They take a picture together and the man tells Alex that he’s excited to catch the special when it airs. 

The way the host looks at him though, Henry suspects Alex might be the main selling point of watching it. It’s almost endearing how Alex doesn’t seem to notice the heart eyes being lobbed at him. Henry wonders what it’ll be like after Alex’s book releases in a few months and the radio host– and queer men all over the globe– find out that Alex is part of their community.

It makes Henry happy to know the world will open up even more for Alex, even though selfishly a small part of him will miss being in this exclusive bubble of a select few who know Alex’s truth for now.

They head out of the studio and start walking back down the hall to the elevators.

“Do you feel like going out tonight?” Alex asks abruptly.

For a foolish, fleeting moment, Henry thinks Alex is asking him out on a date, but logic kicks in.

“Don’t want to spend the first night holed up in the rental, huh?” he muses as he hits the down button.

“Precisely. I’m feeling…I don’t know. We’re young and hot and in Miami of all places. It feels like we should be taking advantage of that, right? Let’s go dancing.”

Henry barks out a laugh that makes the receptionist jump. Henry quickly apologizes before stepping into the elevator that mercifully arrives to aid in his escape from the scene.

“Alex, you’ve come to know me so well. Surely you can surmise that I don’t dance. ”

“That’s not the same thing as can’t,” Alex objects as the doors close and he pushes for the ground floor. “And besides, you’re forgetting that I’ve seen your hips move in the bedroom pretty damn well. Trust me, I know you’d be lethal on the dancefloor if you gave it an honest try. You didn’t even get on the floor with Pez in Denver. I’m not letting you cop out this time around.”

Henry’s head is still reeling from Alex’s second statement.

“Sex is different,” he argues. “I couldn’t possibly move like that with others around.”

Alex smirks as they reach the ground floor and the doors chime open. 

“Oh, Henry. Miami nightlife is gonna teach you a thing or two. Just you wait.”

~*~*~

Nighttime in Miami feels like an absolutely different realm of existence. It’s almost as if the sun dipping below the horizon somehow flipped a switch on Henry’s surroundings. 

“I suppose this is what Dorothy must have felt like when she entered Oz,” Henry says as he and Alex wait in line outside of a club. From the line snaking around the corner, Henry can tell it’s a popular one.

The heavy bass from the music spills onto the street and feels like an undercurrent to Henry’s anxiety over this evening. In theory a night of dancing should be fun, but despite Alex’s prediction, Henry still maintains he has two left feet and is more than likely to make a fool of himself in front of not only Alex, but a roomful of people.

When they’re finally admitted, Henry’s nerves lift sky high. The place is packed with people all moving to the music.

Alex takes to the vibe of the club like a fish to water. He looks genuinely excited, his eyes drinking everything in. Henry does too, but all he notices is how adept literally every person in the room is at dancing. He supposes liquid courage might be doing wonders for a good portion of them, but even still, he’s impressed with everyone’s ability not to overthink. 

He wonders what a life like that would be like and quickly has to stop himself from ironically overthinking about overthinking.

“Don’t be nervous!” Alex shouts over the music, already bopping a bit.

He sets his hands on Henry’s hips and shakes him side to side while laughing. 

“Live a little. Move a lot,” he says before letting go and beginning to dance all on his own in earnest. Henry can only watch him and marvel at how fluid Alex’s movements are. It’s obvious just how freeing this is for him and it’s downright captivating.

A gorgeous woman appears at Alex’s side as if summoned by his movements. She’s a vision with long dark curly hair and rich brown skin that’s accentuated perfectly by the red dress she has on. Henry wonders briefly if she’s a mirage.

Alex’s eyes cut to her for a moment and back to Henry, almost as if asking for permission. Henry tips his head, urging Alex to take her on as a dance partner. 

Alex smiles and takes hold of the woman’s hand and they move as one immediately, so in sync with the blaring horns and percussion. It’s really a sight to see and Henry can’t help but to smile knowing just how much Alex is enjoying himself. 

One song bleeds into another and Alex continues to dance with the woman. Secretly, Henry is glad she’s able to distract him; better her than him on the dancefloor now. Henry moves away and heads for the bar to get drinks for himself and Alex.

It’s a battle to make it through to the overcrowded bar, but Henry feels victorious when he manages to get the bartender’s attention.

“Whatever he wants, it’s on me,” a voice beside him says before Henry can even get a word out.

He looks to his right and sees an, admittedly, attractive guy half smiling at him. This feels a bit like déjà vu.

In a different bar, in a different city, he’d been approached.

In a world pre-Alex, Henry would have been intrigued by this man based on his appearance, certainly enough to graciously accept the drink to see where the night could lead.

But now, his mind is already calculating how quickly he can put an end to this. The brown eyes looking at him now aren’t the ones he’d like to stare into.

“That’s quite alright, but thank you for the offer,” Henry says politely to the stranger.

The man feigns a wounded heart.

“If I can’t get you a drink, could I at least get your name, sexy? I want to hear more of this pretty accent that goes along with that truly pretty face,” he says, voice lilting, his eyes a little unfocused. 

It’s clear he must have nursed a few drinks here tonight already aside from the one currently in his hand.

Henry’s skin feels stretched uncomfortably. The bar is so swarmed, there isn’t much he can do to escape without notice, especially as the man continues looking at him expectantly.

Henry opens his mouth, but suddenly he feels a hand on the small of his back out of nowhere. He glances and sees Alex smiling tightly at the stranger. Henry relaxes into his touch at once.

The tipsy man looks between the two of them.

Alex continues to stare, glare really, before turning his attention on Henry. 

“You good here?” he asks. 

Henry smiles.

“Considerably better now. Thanks, love.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you were with someone,” the man mumbles. 

He at least has the good sense to look apologetic, but Henry loathes the fact that it took someone else stepping in to get him to back off.

The man staggers away from the bar and Henry shifts his focus back to the whole reason he came over here in the first place.

Henry sighs seeing the bartender now taken up with other patrons. Of course the man would have lost interest immediately when there’s an army of people vying for his attention, money in hand.

“I intended to get us drinks,” Henry says uselessly to Alex, frowning. 

“And then you were rudely interrupted by that vulture?” 

Henry laughs as Alex glances over towards wherever the man vanished off to, a sour look on his face.

“Careful now, I might start thinking you were jealous.”

Alex purses his lips. Something changes in his expression, but the lights flashing inside the club makes Henry think he might’ve imagined it. It looked somewhat like irritation. Henry dismisses the thought quickly. There’s no reason why Alex would or even should be bothered by the other man’s advances.

“Dance with me,” Alex says.

“Where’s that beautiful woman from before? My savior? Perhaps I could convince her to pair up with you again.”

Alex lightly pinches Henry’s side and leans in by his ear.

“She’s not the dance partner I wanted this evening. I want you to watch you move,” he replies, a hand snaking down to Henry’s ass.

Henry’s eyes widen.

They’re in such a public place and though no one has come up to Alex professing themselves to be a fan, he still wants to exercise some caution.

He looks around, but no one seems to be paying them any mind. He turns his gaze back on Alex.

“I really am dreadful. I wasn’t being facetious.”

Alex laughs, shaking his head.

“You’ve been teaching me things for months now. Let me return the favor and show you a thing or two.”

He gives Henry a light tap on his ass before taking a hold of his hand and leading him back toward the dancefloor. Henry feels trepidation with each step as if he’s been led to the gallows. But his curiosity and the burning need to touch Alex keeps his feet shuffling forward.

The band jumps into another song with heavy rhythm. Alex swivels his hips instinctively to the Latin music and Henry is once again mesmerized by how Alex moves, the sheer confidence and ease.

With a light sheen of sweat above his brows and his curls in lovely disarray, Henry simply cannot get over how sexy Alex is.

He reaches out, putting his hands on Alex’s hips, his eyes trained on his feet as he starts to mimic Alex’s footwork.

He’s hardly skilled, just as he knew he wouldn’t be, but he hasn’t managed to step on Alex’s feet yet so he considers it a win.

“There you go. I knew you could do it,” Alex boasts.

Henry keeps looking down, not trusting himself not to muck it up if he isn’t watching his feet. This is a far cry from the posh lessons he took as a child, learning antiquated moves like the waltz at his grandmother’s insistence. 

“Just feel it, Hen. Relax.”

Alex comes in closer, his arms encircling Henry in return.

“Look at me,” he says. It takes Henry a moment but he does. 

He keeps his eyes locked onto Alex, studies the way the light dances off his face, casting his features into shadows every few seconds. It’s almost hypnotic. Henry certainly feels as if he’s in a trance.

He notes the way their bodies naturally fall into step after a few moments. He wills his brain to shut off for once and heed Alex’s advice. To just trust his body and feel it.

Alex had been right back at the radio station; their bodies have been learning each other’s frequencies for months at this point. They are perfectly in tune now that Henry’s working to get out of his own head so much.

It turns out, Henry is actually decent at this. He finds himself laughing, a carefree sound that bubbles out his chest and joins the sounds of the nightclub.

There’s a curious look into Alex’s eyes as he seems to study Henry. He doesn’t speak his thoughts and Henry figures now isn’t really the time to ask.

The music changes, the live band being replaced by a DJ who plays dancy pop music. He and Alex adjust to the new tempo, but their bodies still remain pressed together. Alex rolls his hips teasingly, catching Henry by surprise. His body feels like an absolute live wire and any bit of contact with Alex has Henry utterly convinced he’ll blow at any second.

Arousal grows in the pit of his stomach. To be quite honest, it’s been brewing for some time now.

Alex turns, his back pressed against Henry’s chest. He grinds down as Henry grips his hips tightly. 

Henry’s whole body feels hot and logically he knows that’s a byproduct of dancing for multiple songs straight in a dark crowded club, but he knows truthfully it’s mostly due to the fact that Alex’s perfect ass is now repeatedly rubbing against his growing erection.

Alex clearly has no regard for any of this as he reaches a hand up and combs his fingers through the hair at the back of Henry’s head, soon curling his hand into a fist. He continues keeping time with the music, grinding down again.

Henry can’t help it; he’s only human. He moans against Alex’s ear, his fingers digging deeper on Alex’s hips as he thrusts back.

“Have you any idea what you're doing to me right now?” he says, low enough for only Alex to hear. 

He feels Alex’s body shake with laughter as he does it again, slower and harder this time.

Bastard, Henry thinks.

Before he can chide Alex for his cruelty, the man turns to face him. If Henry thought he himself was keyed up, it’s nothing in comparison to Alex’s molten gaze.

Alex doesn’t say a word as he takes a step back, subtly tipping his head towards the area where the restrooms are. Henry catches on quickly and together they navigate their way through the crowd, away from anyone else’s eyes.

The music carries over into the restroom, but as the door closes, it’s at least somewhat muted. Alex surveys the bathroom before tugging Henry into the closest stall.

“You look so fucking good out there,” he all but growls. “So good that apparently other guys couldn’t help but notice too.”

Henry searches his eyes, trying to absorb what’s happening here. 

“Wait. Alex, were you actually jealous?” he asks, genuinely taken aback.

All the pent up tension seems to rush out of Alex at the question. It’s dizzying.

Alex avoids his gaze and shrugs. 

“Not jealous. I…I don’t know. I know we aren’t…,” he stops short and shakes his head. “It felt weird seeing that dude look at you like that. He was getting way too close and for a second I thought maybe you might be into what he was trying to offer or...I don’t know. It’s dumb.”

Henry bites back a smile. 

“You do realize that literally nothing would have happened between him and me, right? Even if he hadn’t turned out to be an absolute drunken knob, I would not have been interested. I came here with you,” he says, hooking his index fingers into Alex’s belt loops. 

“I’m leaving with you. That’s just as I’d like for it to be. End of story.”

Alex’s shoulders relax a little.

“So, I haven’t made a complete idiot of myself then?”

Henry pretends to think about it.

“Eh, like three percent. Five tops,” he teases. “The peacocking out there really came in handy and all that dirty dancing redeemed you a bit.”

Alex playfully swats at his arm. 

“You fucking dick.”

Henry grins.

“No one could ever accuse you of being a sweet talker.”

Henry tugs Alex forward a bit by the waist and Alex is quick to kiss Henry, his hands immediately slipping into Henry’s hair. 

A public restroom is hardly an ideal setting, but it astounds Henry just how little cares as he kisses Alex back. The kiss intensifies quickly from light and sweet to heated, especially as Alex grips Henry’s hips firmly, his tongue working its way into Henry’s mouth.

Alex moans into his mouth, tugging Henry's shirt free from where it’s tucked in at the front. He runs his hands up Henry’s abs, his warm skin making Henry feel even hotter and more aroused.

Henry grabs a fistful of Alex’s curls and rolls his hips forward, whimpering softly when he feels Alex’s growing hardness against his own. The way he craves this man is downright maddening and should be studied.

He has to stop kissing Alex for a moment. They haven’t had even a drop of alcohol tonight and yet Henry feels drunk out of his mind off this man alone.

“Do you want to try something a little new?” he rasps, suddenly struck with an idea.

Alex’s eyes are so dark again, his lips red from how heavily they’ve been kissing. He nods, taking a few breaths as he stares blearily at Henry.

Henry shifts ever so slightly, wedging his right leg between Alex’s legs, his thigh packed in tightly against Alex’s groin.

The man lets out a staggered breath, one hand falling to Henry’s shoulder, cursing under his breath. Henry kisses the side of his face.

“I want you to take the edge off…or work yourself up, depending on how you look at it,” he muses. “But don’t come. Stop as soon as it gets to be too much. I don’t want you to finish.” 

Alex groans. 

“At least not here. Not like this. I want to take you apart myself for that,” Henry continues, brushing a hand through Alex’s curls.

“Can you do that for me, darling? Hm? Do you think you could at least try?”

Alex nods, his breathing already a bit heavy.

“Yeah. I’ll be good,” Alex whispers and Henry shivers at those words, his eyes closing faintly for a moment.

“You always are. Off you go, love.”

Alex nips on Henry’s bottom lip before he ruts up against Henry’s thigh tentatively, slowly seeking out friction. Henry knows Alex is teasing himself, but it’s every bit as pleasurable for Henry as well. Alex is making a meal of this, taking his time grinding against him. 

Henry kisses him heatedly, licking his way into Alex’s mouth. It riles Alex up; his cock rubs a bit faster against Henry’s thigh. Alex breaks the kiss first and Henry’s ears swim with the soft raspy sounds that fall from Alex’s lips as he gives in to what his body is asking for.

Henry’s hands slide down to Alex’s ass, urging him forward, his own knees feeling weak but he stands strong, offering up his body to receive Alex’s call.

Alex buries his face in the crook of Henry’s neck, panting as he gradually moves faster, all out humping Henry’s leg, his sounds growing wilder and more intelligible.

Alex moves quickly and hard enough to make Henry’s body slam against the stall, the metal rattling. Henry's brain feels like it’s flying. Alex’s whimpering becomes desperate. His teeth sink into the pulse point on Henry’s neck as he stifles a scream.

“Jesus,” Henry mutters, so thoroughly turned on, his grip tightening on Alex’s ass.

Alex shudders hard against him and he takes a sudden step back. His face is a stunning shade of pink, his eyes wild. He looks as if he might be mere moments from losing it right then and there. 

Alex rests back on the opposite wall of the stall, closing his eyes. It’s a small space, but the distance seems to be enough to let Alex get his head on straight. Henry watches as he takes a steadying breath and it seems like it’s taking every bit of Alex’s willpower to collect himself. Henry can relate all too well. That was one of the hottest things he’s ever experienced.

“Take me home,” Alex says, his voice catching as he looks at Henry.

“What’s the magic word?” Henry goads, unable to attempt some sort of control here though he himself is desperate to get Alex into bed.

Alex smirks and rolls his eyes.

“Please, baby. I can beg from my knees later if you’d like.”

Henry groans, his head tipping back against the stall.

“You can’t just say stuff like that to me, Alex.”

Alex’s grin is wicked and thrilling in one breath as he crowds Henry again, placing a hand between his legs. 

“Can’t I? Take me home,” Alex repeats, lightly stroking him. Henry inhales sharply as Alex’s kisses along his jaw and to his ear, his voice deadly sweet as he speaks again.

“I want you to finish me off.”

~*~

Miami, FL

Day 4

Henry looks out over the balcony, taking in the gorgeous sunset. He doubts he’ll ever get used to the humidity in Florida, but he can’t deny the stunning view before him that looks like something on a postcard. Even with the impending rain he can smell in the air, the purpling sky is captivating all the same.

Alex’s appearance at SuperCon was yet another success and the perfect way to call an end to his tour. It was only fitting, in Henry’s eyes, that they celebrated with dinner at a restaurant downtown. It was nice surprising Alex and finding a way to somehow pay him back–even in a small way– for bringing Henry on this tour in the first place.

Now back at their rental, Henry feels himself in something of a contemplative mood as he watches the city. They’ve got another night out here before Henry tags along to Los Angeles for all things Crescent Valley reunion. He’s gotten through the last set of edits he received and upon his return to New York, Henry merely needs to round out the book with a portion on the reunion and Alex’s feelings about it all.

It makes Henry feel wistful knowing just how soon he’ll have to move on from this project. Perhaps even from Alex in general. He tries to picture a world in which they’d be able to maintain a friendship. He worries that, like this tour, their connection might run its course too.

Everything attached to this project came with a deadline. Maybe their dynamic would suffer the same fate.

He frowns to himself, a bitter lens now falling over the landscape in front of him.

“There you are,” he hears Alex say.

Henry half turns to look at him, getting his bearings together and flashing a smile. It becomes more genuine the longer he looks at Alex, the man still dressed sharply from their night out.

“I didn’t mean to disappear on you. I just couldn’t resist this,” he says, turning back and gesturing at the view.

“I’ve gotten so used to being on the road these last few months, it’ll be a bit strange returning to my normal life after L.A. That’ll be my absolute last chance to see palm trees in person before I go home,” he muses.

Alex’s arms encircle his waist from behind unexpectedly, his chest firmly against Henry’s back. Henry holds his breath, not daring to move. They’re once again falling into this precarious dance where they flirt with the line they ought not to cross. Henry supposes in different ways, they already have.

Alex kisses his shoulder, his lips skimming up towards his neck where he lets out a breath before pressing his lips to Henry’s skin. Alex places slow, soft kisses up the length of his neck. Henry’s pulse quickens, his body trembling a little as Alex exhales again.

“Do I make you nervous?” Alex asks quietly.

Henry lets out a breath, turning his head to the side to look at Alex as the man rests his chin on his shoulder.

“Among other things, yes,” Henry replies truthfully.

Alex’s hold on him loosens and Henry takes advantage of the moment to face the other man full on. For the life of him, he can’t read the look in Alex’s eyes. Alex blinks quickly and looks away.

“Darling, what is it?” Henry asks, angling his head to force Alex’s gaze again.

“I hate this. I know we still have a bit more time when you come to L.A., but it’s really starting to sink in that this is almost done, you know? I’m going to miss being around you every day. I don’t want to say goodbye to you.”

Henry blinks twice. Alex’s words harken back to the night they met. They hadn’t known then that they’d have more time together. Perhaps life could surprise them again, if they were lucky.

Henry tucks his hand under Alex’s chin and searches his eyes.

“We’re here now together. Let’s make the most of it.”

Alex’s bottom lip quivers just slightly before he nods, his eyes grow intent, renewed with something akin to determination.

Alex places his hands on either side of Henry’s face and kisses him. It’s slow and sweet and cracks Henry’s chest wide open with the care he’s being shown. In another world, this could be his.

Henry’s arms wrap around Alex’s waist and pull him in closer, their chests resting squarely on one another’s. Henry wouldn’t at all be surprised if Alex could feel just how fast his heart is racing. 

Alex breaks the kiss first, his eyes looking like blown out stars. Henry cups his face with his right hand and Alex pulls in a breath, looking as if he’s preparing to say something big.

“I’m ready for the final lesson,” Alex says, peering up at him through his gorgeous lashes. “I want all of you tonight...if you’ll have me.”

Henry sighs softly, his eyes closing as he rests his forehead to Alex’s. He wants this so badly, he can hardly stand it. Their night after the club had been intense, so much so that Henry had almost floated the idea himself. But this was quite literally Alex’s timeline. He wouldn’t rush his process.

“Yes, love. It’s time.”

Henry takes a hold of Alex’s hands and leads back into the house and to his room. Henry closes the door behind them and suddenly the full weight of this night begins to settle over him. 

The air in the room feels charged somehow, like a storm of a different kind is brewing within these four walls.

They move towards each other, drawn like magnets until they’re mere centimeters apart.

Alex keeps his eyes on him, even as he undoes the buttons on Henry’s chambray shirt completely. He slips his hands to touch Henry’s bare skin, the palms of his hands smoothing down his sides.

This is hardly the first time Alex has touched him, but Henry knows it could very well be the last. There’s a bittersweet tone to the night that breaks Henry’s heart to a degree he knows it shouldn’t.

All the same, Henry does his best to center his attention on the here and now. 

He locks eyes with Alex and begins undoing the man’s shirt in return, pushing the fabric down and off his shoulders completely. He kisses down the side of Alex’s neck and to his right shoulder, his lips sweeping across Alex’s collarbone and back up the other side of the man’s neck.

He plants these kisses like seeds, wondering if they could ever bloom into something tangible between them, something they’d be able to hold onto beyond this night.

Henry looks him in the eyes once more and Alex smiles softly before kissing him again, his hands running smoothly up Henry’s back as he walks them towards the bed, their shirts falling away like faint whispers against the floor.

Alex lays him down gently and Henry cannot take his eyes off him. Between the soft sound of the promised rain starting to fall outside and the warmth of their bodies pressed so closely together, Henry feels as if he’s in a haze.

He cups Alex’s cheek and kisses him deeply as the man undoes his pants and undresses him completely.

Alex sighs and looks down at him.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

It’s the first words either of them has uttered in minutes and the compliment makes Henry feel flustered.

Henry blushes at once. “Alex, come on.”

“I’m serious, Henry,” Alex presses, his tone leaving no doubt that he is. “You’re fucking gorgeous. I can hardly even look at you sometimes. It’s almost too much.”

Henry smiles bashfully, his heart skipping several beats. He tucks his face into the crook of Alex’s neck, placing a soft kiss there, murmuring a quiet thanks against his skin.

It’s all he can muster now.

He doesn’t doubt Alex’s sincerity in the slightest, but it is quite hard for Henry to fully conceive of the thought. This is a man whose life is set perfectly in a land known almost exclusively for beautiful people and yet, Alex seems keen to hold him in the highest regards.

Henry sighs softly and settles his back on the bed once more, reaching out and toying with the key around Alex’s neck, just as he’d done that night in New York that now feels like two lifetimes ago.

From the small smile on Alex’s lips, Henry can tell he’s thinking about that evening too, of how they’ve come so far with each other in the months since.

Henry tugs gently on the chain, drawing Alex’s mouth to his again and kissing him deeply as Alex’s fingertips skate down his body and down to his legs, parting them.

Henry moves as guided, spreading himself out against the sheets, back arching at Alex’s gentle exploration. His body trembles delightedly at the feel of Alex’s fingers brushing against his rim, his body aching for more of his touch. 

Alex breaks the kiss, his lips plump and eyes heavily lidded. The way he’s looking at him now sends a shiver of anticipation down Henry’s spine.

“Where’s—”

“Top drawer,” Henry answers immediately.

Alex chuckles but leans over, grabbing supplies from the nightstand before guiding Henry’s legs to push back, his feet planted atop the bed. Perfectly open and on display. Alex’s eyes comb over his body and a wounded, affected sound falls from his lips.

Alex places a kiss on one of Henry’s knees as he coats his fingers and settles in closer to him. 

Henry can’t help but to think once more of their first night in New York, how in over his head Alex had seemed and genuinely was. Comparing it to now, the look of sheer confidence and utter know-how is truly like day and night.

The first brush of Alex’s fingers against his entrance makes Henry’s whole body buzz at once. Alex kisses his cheek before ensnaring his lips slowly, the pad of his thumb circling teasingly at the same pace. It drives Henry crazy and he loves every second of Alex taking his time with him, building up the moment just as he said he enjoyed.

The first slip of Alex’s finger inside him makes Henry’s eyes roll shut as a low moan escapes him.

“So needy,” Alex teases, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

Henry couldn’t deny it if he tried. He feels thoroughly desperate for any and everything Alex deigns to give him.

He trembles as Alex starts to set a pace, working in and out of him. He rolls his hips forward, hissing softly as his body adjusts to the intrusion. But already he wants more.

His eyes flash to Alex and his wants must be clear as day on his face because when Alex’s hand returns to him, he’s added another finger. 

“Better?” Alex asks.

Henry nods, his eyes closing again for a moment. He continues to rock forward, getting lost in the rhythm of Alex’s ministrations.

Alex shimmies down his body, dropping kisses all over his torso as he goes until he’s level with Henry’s groin, his fingers never stopping all the while. 

That mischievous twinkle Henry loves is in his eyes and Henry takes in a breath to prepare himself for whatever Alex has in mind.

Henry gets the answer a beat later when Alex takes a hold of Henry’s cock and swipes his tongue across the head.

Henry lets out an undignified curse, his breath catching. Alex smiles up at him and does it again before sucking on just the tip.

It’s a sight Henry doubts he’ll ever be able to process, but one that is sure to cement itself in his mind, to live forever in his memories as something he’ll refer back to in the future ahead where he and Alex go back to be just…former collaborators? Friends? 

The uncertainty of it all is a thought he can’t afford now. He won’t spoil this night by breaking his own heart.

He rakes his fingers through Alex’s curls and moans softly, keeping his eyes locked onto Alex’s as the man pleasures him.

His eyes roll shut at the feel of Alex’s fingertips gently brushing his prostate.

By the time Alex adds a third finger, Henry feels ready to burst.

“Alex,” he whispers, his throat dry and cracking on the name.

It’s enough to get the point across. Alex retracts his hand and mouth, rubbing gentle reassuring circles on Henry’s thighs. He looks between Henry’s legs, his face flushing. Henry can only imagine how he must look, gaping and ready, perfectly poised to take him.

If I can make you lose it like that with my fingers, just imagine the things I could make you feel when I’m buried inside you, Alex had said that day in Reno when he left Henry a quivering mess in his hotel room.

Here it was now that Henry would no longer have to wonder. He’s mere moments away from knowing firsthand what a well-practiced Alex was like.

Alex finishes undressing himself and though Henry has been aching to feel Alex inside him, he has to take a moment to admire Alex’s body. His hands run from his shoulders to his chest, his torso, and to his hips.

He can’t imagine ever having a partner as breathtaking as this ever again.

He looks up at Alex who— by some miracle— has been quiet this whole time.

“Sorry,” Henry says, dropping his hands.

Alex’s brows furrow.

“Why are you apologizing? You’re doing wonders for my ego right now,” he muses before he opens the condom wrapper.

“May I?” Henry asks.

Alex lifts a brow, his face intrigued. He hands it over all the same. Henry gives him a quick kiss before working it over Alex’s length, his fingertips brushing along his shaft. Alex shivers a little.

Henry takes a hold of him, guiding Alex to his entrance, teasing himself a little by rubbing the head of Alex’s cock against his rim, never letting it slip in.

Alex’s thumbs work over Henry’s nipples, adding to his pleasure.

Henry moans softly, feeling his cock twitch and stiffen in response.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, feeling as if he might be monopolizing their time by teasing himself. The buildup is just too good to resist, knowing the reward will be all the sweeter.

Alex shakes his head.

“No more apologizing. Take whatever you need. I don’t mind one bit, baby.”

He leans forward and traps one of Henry’s nipples between his teeth, biting down gently. Henry keens, rubbing Alex’s tip against himself again as Alex starts to suck on his delicate flesh. His tongue is a menace against the hardened nub, encircling it before switching sides.

Henry bites back on his own lower lip and aligns Alex to his entrance, nodding up at Alex to proceed. 

Alex doesn’t hesitate; he tips his hips forward and slides slowly into Henry, filling him up inch by inch. Henry grips his sides, mouth falling open.

His body shudders as Alex keeps going until he bottoms out completely.

They both gasp and freeze, taking a moment to collect themselves. Henry feels so full, his walls clenching around Alex’s length. He feels him everywhere.

Alex drops kisses on the side of his face, the tension in his body stretched like a rubberband ready to snap.

“Jesus Christ, Henry. You feel incredible.”

Henry lets out a breathy laugh.

“I had the same thought about you.”

He licks his dry lips and rolls his his upward, crying out at the sensations coursing through him at once. Alex slowly starts to pull out and Henry clutches him tighter. This already feels so different, in the best way, than New York.

“I need it. I’m ready,” he pants.

Alex thrusts back in and Henry sees stars as he’s filled again, his body utterly starved for the man above him. He kisses Alex heatedly as they get underway, Alex fucking him in earnest now that he’s been given license to move freely.

Henry’s brain feels as if it’s made of cotton balls or gauze, something light and airy that feels viable to blow away at a moment’s notice.

He hooks a leg around Alex’s hips and the position drives Alex in deeper. They both curse at the same time. Alex buries his face in the side of Henry’s neck, nibbling and sucking his skin as he hips keep time. Henry feels himself dripping from the overstimulation and somehow hungry for more.

He drags his dull nails up and down Alex’s back, his body feeling as if it’s on fire.

Alex pulls back enough to look at him and the intensity of his gaze is almost overwhelming. For all the hooking up they’ve done over the past few months, he’s never seen this expression on Alex’s face.

It’s almost too much, but Henry wouldn’t dare put a stop to this. 

He grabs at the sheets, his hands gripping a fistful of fabric to keep himself steady as he snaps his hips forward to meet Alex’s thrusts.

Henry turns his head to the side but Alex touches his face lightly and gently coaxes him to face forward again.

“Eyes on me, baby. I want to see you.”

Henry trembles as he stares back, gasping softly as Alex takes a hold of his slick cock and strokes him.

Henry breathes softly, mouth still agape as he rocks his body toward Alex, surrendering fully, allowing himself to feel everything wholly without hesitation.

“There we go,” Alex says quietly as he smiles. “Beautiful.” 

Henry seeks out his lips, his head tipping up to capture Alex’s mouth, kissing him gently as his hands settle on the small of his back.

This connection had been missing entirely that night in New York. All their weeks together have culminated in Alex being confident within himself and secure with taking the lead. In every respect, Henry knows he’d follow wherever Alex deigned to take him.

“More, please,” Henry rasps, fingers digging into Alex’s sides.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

Alex rolls his hips, burying deeper and slamming harder into him as Henry’s nails dig in more firmly, anchoring him as his body thrums.

“God, yes,” Henry moans when Alex strikes him just right.

The difference between their very first night and now cannot be overstated. Alex is almost like a different person entirely to him.

No, Henry thinks. Different skill set, yes. But that magnetism has been in place this entire time.

He seeks out Alex’s mouth again even though he can barely breathe as it is.

Alex is relentless now, hitting that sweet spot over and over. Henry’s walls cinch around him, his toes curling as his orgasm builds. 

“You’re right there. Fuck, Henry. So good for me,” Alex grits, taking a hold of Henry’s cock once more and jerking him off. His hand moves quickly against his shaft, pumping and squeezing his length.

Henry’s eyes water and he can feel himself throbbing, climbing closer and closer to his peak. He thrusts back shamelessly, greedily taking everything that Alex gives to him and offering himself back. His breaths are heavy and uneven, his heart pounding almost dangerously, but Henry has never felt more in control of himself even as he goes careening off the edge a moment later.

Alex’s name falls from his lips in a deep, desperate moan, loud enough to ring in the quiet of the room. Alex doesn’t let up, his body still moving against Henry’s and carrying him through. Henry’s grateful for it, eager to savor the last remaining moments of this.

He spills out in the small space between them, his stomach warm with his own release. Alex’s hand doesn’t break stride, nor does the man break eye contact. Alex looks absolutely ravenous, practically feeding off Henry’s response to him.

Henry’s whole body is hot and drained, but he doesn’t stop moving, so eager for Alex to feel this level of euphoria too.

He can feel Alex’s cock throbbing and twitching inside him, his finish just moments away at this rate.

Henry kisses up to Alex’s ear, hanging onto his shoulders as he whispers to him.

“Come for me, Alex. You’re so close. I can feel it. Use me.”

His teeth graze Alex’s earlobe and he bites down just enough to add pressure.

Alex gasps out a shaky breath and a beat later, a string of curses falls from his lips as he fucks into Henry roughly. Henry’s hips move forward steadily as Alex comes, his nails scratching down Alex’s back as he sees him through his finish in kind. Alex grips his hair, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Henry rests the palm of his hand over Alex’s heart and feels how quickly it’s racing. He peppers Alex’s jawline with kisses, his other hand rubbing his side.

“Breathe, darling,” he says softly, searching Alex’s eyes. They’re dark but so clear, reinvigorated even.

Alex doesn’t say anything, merely crushing his mouth against Henry’s as Henry smiles and drapes his arms over Alex’s shoulders. 

Alex skims his fingertips down the side of Henry’s cheek as he rolls off of him, Henry sighing at the loss of feeling Alex inside him. Alex disposes of the condom and returns immediately to Henry’s side.

Henry kisses him slowly at once, slinking an arm over Alex’s waist. Time feels infinite and truly irrelevant. All there seems to be is this perfect moment with Alex as he kisses Henry back unhurriedly.

Henry breaks first to catch his breath. He brushes damp curls off Alex’s forehead as they stare in silence at each other for a few seconds.

“I think I’ve made up for New York now, yeah?” 

Henry laughs heartily at the statement. 

“Yes. I can say, without question, that you have. Ten times over in fact.”

Alex grins toothily before his face grows a bit serene, his fingers now trailing along Henry’s jawline as he gets his thoughts together.

It’s a tender move and it makes Henry’s heart flutter like the wings of a butterfly. It certainly feels that delicate.

“Thank you for giving me this. All these weeks with you. Nothing could ever compare to it.”

For now, Henry thinks. After all, these lessons had been nothing more than practice for whatever next guy comes along and manages to dazzle Alex. Henry feels sick to his stomach at the thought though this has been the truth all along.

This moment feels like both a thank you and a goodbye.

Henry wants to ask if it has to end here, but he knows that it must. 

“Stay with me tonight,” Henry says instead, splitting the difference and pushing past the sudden lump in his throat.

Alex’s brows knit slightly and Henry can’t blame him. That had been one of their rules, no spending the night in each other’s room though Austin had been the one unavoidable exception.

All the same, with this being their last night of lessons, Henry figures perhaps they could bend the rules a little.

Alex continues to look at him for a moment in silence.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course,” Henry says, quickly losing his nerve. “I know we said we wouldn’t do that.”

Alex shakes his head, stroking Henry’s cheek with his thumb.

“Stop. That’s not…I’m staying. I want to stay. Honestly, if I were to have to go back to my room, I’d be bouncing off the walls. It makes better sense to just…not leave,” Alex rambles.

Relief floods through Henry’s body at once. They've been on borrowed time since the beginning, but at least for tonight he’s able to buy them a few more hours.

Alex kisses the tip of his nose.

“And besides, if memory serves— which it absolutely freaking does— you promised me something back in Reno. I want to cash in on that tonight.”

Henry’s brows furrow for a moment before he remembers, a smile spreading across his lips as he gently spreads Alex’s legs.

He relishes in how quickly the move shuts Alex up and clearly excites him.

That certainly makes two of them. Henry’s mind has been running wild for weeks picturing himself not just working Alex open, but being inside him, bringing him the kind of pleasure he’s never experienced before.

It might seem like a daunting task to some, but Henry views it as a privilege he’s more than capable of handling.

“You’re right, darling,” Henry says, skimming his fingertips along Alex’s inner thighs, delighting in the way Alex trembles. “Next round’s on me.”

[kaccvcate]

second autobiographical essay below

The first sixteen years of my life I spent with my mom, and they were honestly the motherfucking worst.

My mom met my step dad larping when I was about 2, he was 16, and she was 26. She got pregnant, they got married, and he started sexually abusing me right away. When my brother was born, I couldn't stand him and was a complete cunt to him (sorry dude, I was a kid and I didn't know better.)

When I started school, I struggled to focus and did very poorly, and my mom and step dad would beat me and take all my things out of my room except for furniture, and lock me in there except to use the bathroom, for months on end, until they thought my grades were good enough. My step dad would come into my room at night and touch me. He would also jump out at me around corners and "wrestle" with me (pretending to wrestle for fun so he could squeeze my tits.) I would struggle and yell, and bite him as hard as I could, and my mom would punish me for hurting him. Sometimes he would do it in front of her, and when I complained to her, she would call me a liar. (His name again: Rigel Cameron Freeman.)

We moved pretty much every year because my parents struggled to maintain jobs. Mainly we lived in different parts of Gainesville, Florida, but we also briefly lived in Raleigh, North Carolina. At school I was usually the only non Christian kid, and I was a complete asshole because my family life was so horrible, so no one liked me and I was bullied constantly. I spent a lot of time in class, and all my time at recess, drawing and making up imaginary friends, or reading books about talking cats (I was very misanthropic, something I still struggle with.) When I was in late elementary to middle school, I made a few friends I still talk to. That was also the same time as my first suicide attempt (5th grade), and when I started self harming.

When I was 12 I dyed my hair red, and my friend's dad named me Red (their family were Irish and Cherokee.) I had been called lots of other names before that, basically something different by each relative, and the only thing everyone could agree on was that none of them suited me (and no one ever called me my government name.) After I was named Red, I dyed my hair every other color you can think of, but my name has stayed the same.

The same year, I moved to Miami, and that began a new isolated phase in my life that led to me becoming interested in magick. My mom had never lived in a major city before, and we ended up moving to a pretty sketchy neighborhood (gunshots almost every night, drive bys, etc.) In our home country (Mississippi) kids are simply expected to fend for themselves outdoors until supper. Now that I was trapped inside with my incredibly abusive family, I had nothing to turn to but the internet (something I'm sure many of us here can relate to.)

I became interested in magic through mythology. I had always found other pre-Christian cultures fascinating, since I wasn't allowed to learn anything about my own, and I discovered through Wikipedia and Google searches that people still practiced the pagan European religions of my ancestors. Through neopaganism, I began to learn about ceremonial magic extremely quickly, feeling as though it was the one piece of my life I'd been missing, finding that I had an innate understanding of something other than visual art for the first time. It wasn't long before I was ready to try my first invocation. I had always wondered if I had a "spirit animal," or a guide, which I knew must be part of my subconscious, and recognizing immediately that I could use ritual meditation to access this, I crafted my first ritual based on some uninitiated wiccan articles I had been reading, and what implements I had laying around. I set out a circle of stones, invoked the four quadrants with a candle at each cardinal direction, laid out offerings of oil, salt, and water, lit an incense cone, and two additional candles for the Mother and Father. My practice is very different now, but my results at the time were extraordinarily intense. When I closed my eyes, this is what I saw:

Dense forest, high on the mountain. It's foggy and overcast, but it's summertime. The rocks are covered with moss, thick and green. I look down at my sandy brown forepaws and know that I am a panther. I begin to stroll, and I can feel the power in my muscles. I'm strong and free.

I opened my eyes, and was back in my bedroom, surrounded by rocks and candles. Shortly afterward, my mom mentioned Scott Panther to me for the first time (I didn't remember meeting him as a baby.) I'm sure it will confuse some that my first experience with a native archetype, my family animal, was through a European style ritual. Hey, think how I feel! I should have been able to take peyote and meet a mountain lion face to face to earn my name, like any decent person. Unfortunately, since I was so isolated, I didn't have the privilage. My connection to the panther is extremely deep - some of my first dreams were of being a cat, and the first time I prayed (age 8) it was to "StarClan," which, for the uninitiated, is the clan of dead cats who live in the sky in the children's book series Warrior Cats (I still like to think my cat ancestors are up there watching.) I've always studied cat behavior and embodied cat energy, even before I had any vision, but in my life that was treated as something annoying and strange by the people around me, rather than the sacred mystical practice it was. When I had cats in my life, I prioritized them, often over my own health and safety. Even though I only have a dog now, I still consider cats to be my teachers. I can't say whether my conceptualization of reality and my experiences is native, or European, but I would guess it's a mix of both, like me.

I started high school at MAST Academy in Miami, a school for "future scientists." My family always discouraged me from drawing or playing music, often my instruments would be taken away or sold, or I would have nothing but lined notebook paper to draw on (I would only get things I needed for school.) Since all I had to decide a "career" on was my passion for non-human animals, I thought I might be a zoologist. It was a lot less horrible than most other high schools in a lot of ways, and a few of the teachers even treated me like a person (cheers.) I started visiting my dad a little during this period, he began teaching me about Jewish mysticism and Kaballah, what little I could understand, and I began to read from his collection of books on magick and the occult.

During my second year of high school, my mom and step dad moved to the Netherlands, and brought me with them. I was too young and shy (scared) to have any fun, and I just thought about suicide constantly. My mom would never stop yelling at me about everything, telling me how l worthless I am. I caught my step dad taking pictures of me as I got out of the shower, and my little brother told me he caught him watching me sleep through the window over my bedroom door (you could stand at the top of the stairs and look right through it.) I became paranoid he was going to start raping me again, like he did when I was younger, and slept with a knife beside me, when I could sleep. (Again, his name is Rigel Cameron Freeman, and he is a computer programmer who works in the video game industry.)

The only positive part of my life during this period was an online death cult I joined, called Les Fleurs de la Mort. I can't talk about our practices in detail, but it lead me to get really into gardening, which was probably the healthiest possible pastime for me. I don't think I've spoken to any of my fellow Fleurists in years, but if any y'all are reading this, meow.

After I turned 16, I got the chance to visit my dad back in Miami (court ordered), and I refused to return to my mom. I haven't heard from my mom or step dad since then, except for a handful of extremely rude emails from my mom before covid, and I hope that's the end of it.

Rigel Cameron Freeman, the pedophile who made my life hell and molested me constantly throughout my childhood, currently has sole custody of my youngest sibling, who's 9. (He was born after I left, and we've never met.)

[tomorrowusa]

Hurricane Helene and Hurricane Milton have drawn additional attention to what a terrible governor Ron DeSantis is.

“Florida isn’t safe with DeSantis at the helm of our state government,” said Matthew Grocholske, 20, campaign strategy lead with the Orlando, Florida, chapter of the youth-led Sunrise Movement. [ ... ] Florida environmentalists say that DeSantis’s policies to boost fossil fuels, suppress carbon-free energy and ignore global heating have fueled the climate crisis that has exacerbated such hurricanes. [ ... ] Hurricanes – including Helene – are becoming more dangerous due to the climate crisis, caused primarily by the burning of fossil fuels. DeSantis’s policies have fueled that crisis with his policies and rhetoric, climate advocates say. “When it comes to our climate crisis, Ron DeSantis is easily the worst governor in Florida’s history,” said Delaney Reynolds, 25, a PhD student in climate resilience at the University of Miami and lead plaintiff in a 2018 youth-led climate lawsuit against the state government. DeSantis’s opposition to climate action began early in his career. One day after taking office in 2013, the then representative voted against a measure proposed after Hurricane Sandy to guarantee people could collect on federal flood insurance claims. During his 2018 run for governor, he pledged to protect Florida’s Everglades and waterways. But though he admitted that “human activity contributes to changes in the environment”, he also said: “I am not a global warming person.” More recently, he has gone further, slamming climate action as “woke”. There is ample evidence that warmer ocean temperatures fuel more powerful storms, and preliminary studies show Helene’s strength was made far more likely by global heating. Yetas Florida was battered by record-breaking rain this past June, DeSantis staunchly denied any potential link to the climate crisis. “This clearly is not unprecedented,” he said at a news conference at the time. “I think the difference is, you compare 50 to 100 years ago to now, there’s just a lot more that’s been developed, so there’s a lot more effects that this type of event can have.”

D'oh! Of course it's "unprecedented". That's what the climate crisis is all about. Weather keeps getting more extreme.

DeSantis is doing his best to destroy the state's response to climate change.

In August, DeSantis’s administration sparked outcry for its so-called Great Outdoors Initiative, which included plans to pave over thousands of acres at nine state parks and erect 350-room hotels, golf courses and pickleball courts. In May, the governor made headlines for signing legislation scrubbing most references to climate change from state law. The policy, which took effect on 1 July, restructured the state’s energy policy to nullify goals to boost wind and solar, instead focusing on hardening energy infrastructure against “natural and manmade threats”. [ ... ] During his run for president in the 2024 Republican primary, DeSantis also promised to ramp up domestic oil and gas production and fend off electric vehicle mandates, moves that climate experts warned would have boosted greenhouse gas emissions. His promises rhymed with his state policies. This past legislative session, DeSantis reportedly quietly helped craft a ban on wind energy infrastructure in Florida. And he also signed a far-reaching energy omnibus bill boosting the gas industry and increasing the barriers to purchasing electric vehicles. [ ... ] Last year, DeSantis turned down federal aid for energy efficiency, electrification and slashing carbon pollution. In 2022, he vetoed from the state budget a $5m allocation for a hurricane shelter in a north-east Florida town, and barred the state’s pension fund from making investment decisions that consider the climate crisis. The previous year, he adopted a bill banning Florida’s cities from adopting 100% clean energy goals. Such policies have exacerbated the climate crisis, which fuels hurricanes like Milton and Helene, Grocholske said. “The catastrophic level of this hurricane is directly due to the policies our state government is passing,” said Grocholske. “It’s clear that [DeSantis’s] administration has been one of the biggest threats to climate justice our state has faced in its history.”

Ron DeSantis is actively inviting the destruction of much of his own state.

DeSanctimonious is not on the ballot this year. But there are elections for the Florida legislature.

Florida State Legislature

Look up your legislative districts. If you live in ones represented by MAGA Republicans, contact your state or county Democratic Party to find out how you can help defeat them.

Find Your Legislators Look your legislators up by address or use your current location.

[liampaynemysteriousdeath]

a couple notable things (if they are even true)

In addition, police experts found a telephone, a notebook, a blister pack of clonazepam and energy pills in the room. 

UK reporting

Reporting the UK media, citing unnamed close friends of the artist, claim that Payne was supplied by drugs by a cleaner and another individual.

“There were two men in the hotel giving drugs to Liam,” one of Payne’s close friends told British newspaper The Daily Mail. “They sent taxis to find packages for him. One of the men was working in the cleaning department.”

Hotel staff “realised that a taxi was sent to the cleaning employee’s house . The hotel manager asked why the taxi had gone to his house and when he couldn’t provide an explanation he was dismissed.”

The couple initially stayed at a luxury Airbnb property in the capital, but they were forced to move out when Payne’s visa application was delayed and their reservation expired.

On October 12, the singer checked into the Hotel CasaSur boutique hotel, while Cassidy returned to Miami.

((wait i thought that Liam was staying at the rich guys polo villa in Argentina when he made that Snapchat?)) hmmm

[thesinglesjukebox]

GLORILLA, MEGAN THEE STALLION, AND CARDI B - "WANNA BE (REMIX)"

Go Jukebox! Go Jukebox! Blurb 'em, Jukebox! Blurb 'em Jukebox!

[7.10]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Punchline after punchline, read after read, hook after hook, no fat: just three talented titans at their tyrannical, terrifying peaks.  [9]

TA Inskeep: Cardi joins Megan and Glo — clearly their spiritual daughter — for some real hot girl shit. The beat isn't anything special, but when you've got spitters this hot on the track, I don't care. [8]

Taylor Alatorre: The addition of Cardi B turns what was a fun little collab into a putative Event Song, a burden that the midtempo sameness of the Soulja Boy sample is perhaps unequipped to take on. It's a trunk rattler, sure, but it feels perpetually on the verge of starting and never going anywhere, much unlike the drop-centric "Pretty Boy Swag." The upside of this rhythmic severity is that it makes it easier for the listener to pick out the pleasing stylistic contrasts at play here: the way GloRilla splays herself out across two whole bars just to remind us that a year has 365 days in it, whereas Cardi barks the words "pop ass on jet ski" like she’s avoiding a shot clock violation. Meg’s role is as the stabilizing force between these two extremes, which is maybe the first time in history that anyone’s referred to Megan Thee Stallion as a “stabilizing force.” [6]

Katherine St. Asaph: These credits should really be in reverse order, to better represent the three rappers' respective firepower here.  [6]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: I’m filling out a Cardi B apology form after being down on “Miami” earlier this year — this verse is so good that when she gives herself a pep talk in the ad libs at the end it sounds deserved. Glo and Meg are also great, of course, and I’ll always be favorably inclined towards a rap hit that pays tribute to E-40, but the beat here lets the trio down — it creeps when it should at very least groove. [7]

Nortey Dowuona: I am going to repeat what a great black poet once said in regards to all my white colleagues in reference to Cardi B: Don't save her; she don't wanna be saved. (Megan and Glo are good on this, tho.) [6]

Julian Axelrod: "Wanna Be" feels gloriously unmoored from time, as Megan Thee Stallion and GloRilla play hot potato with the "Pretty Boy Swag" beat and shout out 2012 heartthrobs Channing Tatum and Justin Bieber. (To be fair, Channing has never looked better.) But in an era where guest verses are airdropped in from a tour bus several states away, the biggest throwback is their electric interplay on the chorus, which crackles with the kind of chemistry that can only be achieved by two baddies in the same room. Listening to them trade bars feels like walking into a conversation directly after the punchline; if you have to ask why they're laughing, the joke is probably on you. Spare a thought for Cardi, who's left to wander the empty space around them like Howard Hughes roaming his abandoned mansion. Hearing her root for herself on the outro after Meg and Glo finish hyping each other up is one of the most devastating depictions of third wheeling ever put to tape. [7]

Jonathan Bradley: The Soulja Boi flip is hot but the Project Pat flip is hotter. Glo is imperious ("Do I look like fuckin' Super-Woman" she asks, incredulous), but Megan is commanding, running a sword through a million misguided fantasies with a cutting "You ain't my daddy; I'm not your baby." (Nice Gucci Mane call-back, too; the references here are laser-focused on the early Obama era.) This is a remix, so we get bonus Cardi material. Unlike Glo and Meg, she has to hype herself up at the end, which feels kinda bad, but she could never be a third wheel, not when she's bringing fun phrasings like "hoes be chippity-chopped," which rhymes, of course, with "hickory dickory dock." [8]

Ian Mathers: The original didn't particularly feel like it was missing anything, but I'll happily take Cardi's fierce verse here for "my toes white like Matthew McConaughey" alone. And I'm not too proud to admit that at some point in the future I am absolutely going to refer to myself as "white boy wasted," either. [8]

Brad Shoup: Is Megan admitting to skiplagging? Megan, they'll ban you from the airline! [6]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[additiva]

I was rereading your amazing fic and I just wondered, did frechheit charles start realising he is in fact into max after their dinner with seb in japan??? how is it for him realising that? bc clearly in miami I feel like he was like damn maybe I am into max??? also when he goes to maxs room in zandvoort was he hoping something happened or wanted to terrorize him yet again??

also really really love your commentary!

Hellooo 🤍🤍

Thank you!!

Esay here as usual ->

Charles doesn't quite realise in Japan. In Japan, he realises that he likes terrorising Max on a personal level, not just on track, and wants to be around him more. But at this stage, he's still just considering it a game that helps him in the championship, and is fun. I've mentioned before in another ask how he's never had anyone treat him the way Max does (essentially without caution), and he finds it really interesting and entertaining. Like, as an analogy, it's much more fun to play tennis against someone who actually hits the ball back, and maybe you start trying to hit each other with it.

He spends a lot of time staring at Max etc even before that, but before that, he attributes it to just observing (know thine enemy etc), and the obsession is also mutual in this sense (they're both oblivious to the attraction, though Max obviously recognises that Charles is objectively good looking).

It's in Miami that he realises he's attracted to Max. Specifically, Max sees videos of Charles after Japan, and starts to wonder in Miami if Charles could be attracted to him. Then they end up very close together in the club, and Max decides to test his theory, by seeing how he reacts to his touch.

Charles is AFFECTED by it, like 😳, then freaks out and runs because he realises that he is attracted to Max, AND that he's just given away that he's attracted to Max. Which, double disaster for Charles. Weakness, and exposure of weakness. Catastrophic. Also, minor crisis of sexuality, and this does NOT fit into his plans.

Max is obviously thrilled, and decides to weaponise it, then Charles decides he'll weaponise it back (his favourite thing), etc.

In Zandvoort, he's acknowledged that he's attracted to Max, and knows Max is very much attracted to him, but he still thinks he can come out on top (in the non-literal sense). He thinks he can manipulate Max into getting angry and putting his hands on him.

He wants that for several reasons:

1. Because the sexual tension is REAL for him and he wants it.

2. Because he thinks that in addition to enjoying it, it'll be a good way to get in Max's head and continue their little psychosexual warfare.

3. Because that way, he'll still be in control of the situation. Max will have lost his temper, and lost control.

4. He doesn't have the experience to just straight up seduce Max, and retain control that way.

So he wants to push Max into taking physical control of the situation, so that his own inexperience will be hidden. And, he'd still be emotionally in control of things, or at least, he'd still feel that way.

So in answer to your question, all of the above. It was a 2 birds with one stone situation for Charles. But obviously it didn't go the way he expected hehe, and it was a bit of a point of no return for both of them.

Between it and Singapore, they're probably the point at which Max becomes Charles' equal.

Hope that makes sense 🤍

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Just the Two of Us - A "Kissing You" Drabble

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader Warnings: LITERAL FLUFF I HAVE NOTHING JUST ENJOY Word Count: 770 Prompt #51: Spinning your lover into a kiss on the dance floor a/n: You ever have it happen where at the beginning of a season of a show or something you have a friend who's really into it but then they enter a relationship and by the end of the show they're subtweeting about your continuous tweeting about the show being annoying? Yeah...so anyway...to make myself feel better here's fluff. :)

Masterlist | Previous Drabble | Next Drabble

The to-do list still feels too long. It didn’t need to be long, as Frankie kept reminding you, but you’d made it long because you wanted to make sure the house was clean when your family arrived in town. After all, you know already that judgment levels would be at an all time high as they not only take in your new home, but meet the man you’ve been sharing it with for the past few months. 

Frankie was as solidified in your life as the ground you walk on, so there wasn’t anything they could ever say to change his presence. But after they’d more than disapproved of your cross-country move to Miami, proving them wrong the second their plane landed was like a hyperfixation. You wanted to show them that you’ve made something for yourself. That branching out, unlike your siblings had, was more than worth the effort. 

And it all started with a clean house. 

“What can I do next?” Frankie asks, sliding up next to you in the kitchen as you lean over the counter, contemplating what it is you should be doing next too. He’s been so good about the whole thing, taking the day off to help you clean in addition to ensuring he could spend the entire week with you and your family. In a flash, he’s snuck the pen out of your hand so he can check ‘clean guest bathroom’ off of the list. 

You hum quietly, eyes scanning over the remaining tasks as he returns the pen to your waiting hand. The kitchen still needed cleaning, the laundry wasn’t done, and the groceries were still just a list on the counter, but one task stood out as more time consuming than the others. “Can you get started on cleaning the living room? I’ll go and throw in a load of laundry and then I’ll come help you.” 

Your boyfriend nods in agreement, placing a soft kiss on your cheek that leaves your skin flushed. “On it,” he returns before hurrying off in the direction of your mildly chaotic living room. Having the boys over at least once a week meant that things were usually thrown around haphazardly, and at the moment it was a true mess of blankets and pillows from the movie night you had last weekend. 

As you head in the direction of the bedroom to grab the basket of towels that need to be washed, you hear Frankie start up a playlist of 80s hits. A chuckle falls from your lips as you hear the recognizable sound of ABBA waft through the house just a little too loud, and you know for a fact that he’s likely dancing around the living room already. 

Quick work is made of the towels, thrown into the washer in record time so you can join the party obviously happening down the hall. When you pass through the arch, he’s moving about with a sway in his hips, mouthing along to the words in the song. 

“What?” he asks, stopping his task when he notices you staring.

You wave a hand, passing into the room. “Nothing, go back to work.” And with a wink he does.

It never fails to make you smile, watching this carefree version of Frankie, and you sneak glances at him as he cleans. He was so guarded when you first met him, introduced through Will at a bar one Friday night, so to see him comfortable in the space you’ve created together puts you at ease. 

The song changes, ABBA changing to Bill Withers crooning in ‘Just the Two of Us’ moments later. You move around the couch as Grover Washington Jr.’s saxophone melds with the vocals, but you’re stopped before you can even reach the first blanket you intended on folding. Frankie pulls you against him, a hand on your hip as he encourages you to move in time with him. 

Despite the fact that you argue with him regularly about it, he’s convinced he doesn’t have a voice anyone would ever want to hear, but as he holds you against him, your head against his chest, you can hear him. “And darling when the morning comes, and I see the morning sun, I wanna be the one with you.” 

“Just the two of us,” you join in on the chorus, lifting your head from his chest as you smile up at him. He’s laughing through the words, and you let out a yelp of surprise as he spins you around before bringing you close once more, his mouth finding yours in a rhythm as practiced as the song playing from the speakers. 

And as you melt into his embrace, you decide that the to-do list can wait. 

Masterlist | Previous Drabble | Next Drabble

[musicalislife]

The tabloid story about Käärijä’s Mr. Worldwide nickname.

“Did Käärijä copy his nickname from a con-rapper? The Latin artist has been using the title for more than 14 years

The wrapper shares his Mr. Worldwide nickname with a well-known Latino rapper.

Artist Käärijän, 29, while following the Eurovision tour and social channels, may have heard him call himself Mr. Worldwide (Finnish: Mr. world-wide).

So far, the wrapper has not specified where exactly the nickname comes from. Its use started roughly around the time when an artist who speaks bad English started his world conquest at Eurovision. When he suddenly became a global phenomenon, the name remained alive in the artist's international interviews, videos and social channels.

However, the wrapper is not the first to use that name. Latino rapper Pitbull, 42, who has been making dance music since 2009, has been using the same name for himself years before Käärijä. He even has a song called Mr. Worldwide from 2011.

In addition to his stage name and nickname, Pitbull has a third designation: Mr. 305, which is the area code of his hometown of Miami. The rapper explained the story of all his nicknames on the Nova Fm radio channel in August 2012.

- In Miami, I learned to see that music is a global language. When I got out of my recording contract with TVT Records, my music got a chance to grow because no one was there to stop it. Then you get a real chance to feel the global movement, Pitbull said on the broadcast.

- That's why I give you three characters to show my own development in the career: Interesting character Pitbull, Mr. 305 who is part of his city and Mr. Worldwide who learns about every country and city, the rapper added.

According to Promolta magazine, the rapper also earned himself the nickname Mr. Worldwide when his popularity spread worldwide very quickly. Pitbull has shouted or rapped his name during many of his songs. Examples of these include the hits Fireball, On the Floor and Hey Baby, also heard in Finland. Pitbull last performed in Finland in Suvilahti, Helsinki, in June 2012.

Original Mr. Worldwide or not, Käärijä's worldwide popularity was already proven on July 13, when tickets for his European tour went on sale. In less than a day, concert tickets were sold out in no less than five cities.

Especially in Great Britain, the Käärijä drug was so big that the organizers decided to move the gigs to bigger arenas. Käärijä's performance in London will be moved from 02 Academy Islington to the Electric Ballroom, which is almost twice as large in audience capacity. In Glasgow, Käärijä's gig will be moved from SWG3 Warehouse to the twice bigger Clyde Rooms.”

I used google translate for the translation so I don’t know how accurate it is.

@katinkulta thanks for the correct translation.💚