#i hope this person didn't want angsty

[harrysfolklore]

casual - ln4

summary: you’re in a situationship with lando norris, one that you know is going to break your heart, but you can’t seem to walk away. wc: 11.7k

folkie radio: i was about to scrap this entire fic bc i just didn’t like they way it was turning out but i finished it 😭 i’m still not really confident about it but i hope you enjoy it. disclaimer: this is angsty !!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

You and Lando. Lando and You. An undefined space, more than friends, less than a relationship. You remember it like it was yesterday, though almost a year has passed.

It started innocently enough. As a data analyst and strategist for McLaren, you often found yourself working late nights, poring over race statistics and performance metrics. Lando would sometimes wander into the office, restless after a day of simulations and meetings.

At first, your interactions were purely professional - discussing tire degradation rates or fuel consumption patterns. But gradually, conversations began to drift, getting more personal and personal.

The shift happened subtly. One night, after a particularly grueling race weekend, you were both exhausted, sprawled on the office couch analyzing data. Lando's head drooped onto your shoulder, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The air crackled with tension.

"We shouldn't," you murmured, even as you turned to face him.

"Probably not," Lando agreed, his blue eyes flickering to your lips.

The kiss was inevitable, months of built-up attraction finally finding release. And then came another, and another.

When Lando suggested heading back to his place, you found yourself saying yes without hesitation.

Before you knew it, you were in his apartment, you could feel the tension in the air. Lando stepped closer, his hand cupping your cheek.

"I've been wanting to do this for a while," he murmured, before leaning in to kiss you again.

Clothes were shed as you made your way to his bedroom, falling onto his bed in a tangle of limbs.

The next morning, sunlight streams through unfamiliar curtains, and you blink awake, momentarily disoriented. Lando's sleeping form beside you brings the memories of last night flooding back.

Lando stirs, his blue eyes meeting yours. "Morning," he mumbles, a shy smile playing on his lips. "So... that happened."

You nod, unsure of what to say. "It did."

An awkward silence stretches between you, the weight of the previous night settling in. You would be lying if you said that you didn't enjoy it. You did. You enjoyed it a lot. But you knew the implications of getting close with someone like Lando Norris.

"Look, Iast night was great," finally, Lando speaks. "But my life, my career... it's complicated."

"I understand," you reply, trying to hide the embarrassment on your face, "I mean, we're work colleges after all, it's complicated for me too."

"I'm not saying I regret this," he quickly adds, "I just... I can't offer you something else right now."

You take a deep breath, weighing your options. "So what are you offering?"

"Honestly? I don't know," Lando runs a hand through his tousled hair, "But I'd like to keep seeing you, if you're okay with... not defining things?"

And so begins, your undefined journey with Lando Norris. From that moment, your relationship existed in a grey area. At work, you maintained professionalism, but stolen glances, brushed hands and the way your clothes always ended up in his bedroom floor told a different story.

You know it's not ideal, to have a situationship with Lando Norris. Not when you know you could really fall for him and jeopardize your job. But at the same time, you can't walk away.

You love you job so much, and the fact that you're willing to shut the rest of the world away in order to focus on what you needed to do proved it.

As the Japanese Grand Prix weekend unfolded, you found yourself buried in work. The Suzuka circuit always presented challenges, and you were determined to give the team every advantage possible.

You were so engrossed in your data analysis that you barely noticed Lando enter the temporary office setup. His hand on your shoulder made you jump.

"Christ, Lando! You scared me," you exclaimed, pulling off your headphones.

He grinned, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes. "Come with me," he said, taking your hand and gently pulling you up.

"Lando, I'm in the middle of-"

"It can wait," he insisted, leading you out of the office and towards his driver's room.

Once inside, he closed the door and leaned against it, watching you with an intensity that made your heart race.

"I miss you," he said simply.

You felt a pang of guilt. It had been weeks since you'd had any real time alone together. "I've been busy," you replied, trying to keep your tone light.

"Busy doing what?" Lando raised an eyebrow.

"Coming up with strategies so you can win races, actually," you retorted, a hint of challenge in your voice.

"Oh really? And how's that going?" he stepped closer, a teasing glint in his eye.

"Well, if you'd stop distracting me," you tilted your chin up defiantly, "Maybe I could finish and you'd find out."

Lando chuckled, closing the distance between you. His hands found your waist, pulling you against him. "Maybe I like distracting you," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

You shivered involuntarily. "Lando..." you warned, but there was no real resistance in your voice.

"Tell me about these strategies," he said, his lips now trailing along your jawline. "How are you planning to make me faster?"

You struggled to maintain your train of thought as his touch sent sparks through your body. "Well," you managed, "I've been analyzing your cornering speeds and-"

Lando cut you off with a kiss, deep and passionate. When he pulled away, you were both breathless.

"Sorry," he grinned, not looking sorry at all. "You were saying?"

"You're impossible, you know that?"

Before he can even reply, you drag him for another kiss. His fingers tangled in your hair as he pulls you closer, your hands slid under his team shirt, tracing the lean muscles of his back.

When you broke apart, Lando's eyes were dark with desire.

"I thought I was the one who distracted you. Seems like you're just as needy as I am," he smirked, his voice low and teasing.

"Don't flatter yourself, Norris," you felt a blush creep up your cheeks, but matched his playful tone, "I'm just... thorough in my research."

Lando's laugh was warm against your neck as he pressed a kiss there. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

"We're not calling it a relationship, aren't we?" you blurted out before you could even think about it.

Lando's expression softened for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. But quickly, his trademark grin returned.

"Well, we're not calling it a relationship," he said, his tone light and teasing, "maybe we should call it a 'performance enhancement program'. You know, for the sake of the team."

You couldn't help but laugh, even as you felt a twinge in your chest at the casual deflection of the relationship topic. "Oh, is that what this is? And here I thought I was just your favorite data analyst."

"Oh, you definitely are," Lando murmured, leaning in for another kiss. "The very best at... analyzing my data."

You rolled your eyes at the innuendo but smiled despite yourself. "As tempting as it is to continue this 'program'," you said, gently pushing him back, "I really do need to get back to work. Those race strategies won't write themselves, you know."

"Fine, fine. Go make me faster on paper. But don't forget, I might need some hands-on analysis later."

"We'll see about that, hotshot," you replied, straightening your clothes and heading for the door. "Focus on your qualifying first."

It's late, well past midnight, when your phone buzzes with a text. You're still up, reviewing data from the day's practice sessions. The message is from Lando, of course.

"Room 507. Now. Please?"

You can't help but smile, imagining the impatience and desire behind those words. You type back:

"Demanding, aren't we? What if I'm busy?"

His reply comes quickly: "Busy with what? I know you're probably still working. Take a break. You deserve it.”

You laugh softly. "I deserve it, huh? Well, when you put it that way..."

"So you're coming?"

You pause, pretending to consider it, even though you both know you're already reaching for your room key. "I suppose I could spare a few minutes."

"There's my girl"

You slip out of your room, heart racing with anticipation. You've done this countless of times before, sneaking out of your hotel room to end up naked in Lando's, but you still felt like a teenage girl every single time.

The hotel corridor is quiet, your footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. You're so focused on reaching Lando's room that you almost collide with someone rounding the corner.

"Whoa, sorry!" You step back, then freeze as you realize it's Oscar, who looks equally surprised.

"Oh, hey. Bit late for a walk, isn't it?"

Your mind races, searching for a plausible excuse. "I, uh... couldn't sleep. Thought I'd grab some ice."

"Ice?" Oscar's brow furrows slightly, "At this hour?"

"Yeah, you know... for my water," you say lamely, cringing at how unconvincing you sound. "Helps me... think better. For work."

"Right," Oscar says slowly, clearly not buying it but too polite to press further. "Well, don't let me keep you from your... ice-enhanced thinking."

You force a laugh. "Thanks. Goodnight, Oscar."

As you hurry past him, you can feel his curious gaze on your back. You silently pray he doesn't mention this encounter to anyone else on the team.

One of the main reasons why you agreed to mess around with Lando without a label was exactly that, the fear of putting your job at risk. You worked hard for it, and you would never forgive yourself if you lost it due to getting in a relationship with one of the drivers.

Which lead you to getting in a goddamn situationship.

Finally reaching room 507, you knock softly. Lando opens the door almost immediately, pulling you inside with a grin.

"Took you long enough," he teases, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"Yeah, well, I just had to convince your teammate that I'm wandering the halls at 1 AM in search of ice. So thanks for that," you retort, but there's no real annoyance in your voice.

"You ran into Oscar?" Lando's eyes widen, "What did you tell him?"

"That I needed ice. For thinking."

"Ice for thinking?" he bursts out laughing. "That's the best you could come up with?"

"Hey, you try coming up with a believable excuse on the spot!" you protest, swatting his arm playfully.

"Fair enough," Lando concedes, still chuckling. "Now, where were we? I believe you were going to help me with some... performance analysis?"

As Lando leans in, your lips meet in a passionate kiss. The tension that's been building all day finally releases as you melt into his embrace. His hands roam your body, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens.

"I've been thinking about this all day," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

"Oh really?" you tease, running your fingers through his hair. "I thought you were supposed to be focusing on your lap times."

"Who says I can't do both?"

Lando's lips find your neck, trailing kisses along your jawline. You tilt your head back, a soft sigh escaping your lips. Your hands slide under his t-shirt, tracing his sides.

He guides you towards the bed, your bodies pressed close together. As the back of your knees hit the mattress, you fall back, pulling Lando with you. He hovers over you, his weight supported on his forearms.

"You're beautiful," he whispers, his eyes roaming your face.

You reach up to cup his cheek, drawing him down for another kiss. This one is slower, deeper, filled with unspoken emotions.

As things heat up, clothes start to come off. Lando's shirt is the first to go, followed quickly by yours. Skin meets skin, and the world narrows down to just the two of you, lost in each other's touch.

The night stretches on, filled with whispered words, soft moans, and the rustle of sheets. You can't help but think that this undefined thing with Lando is getting more complicated by the day but you decide that's a problem for future you to worry about.

After an exhausting triple header across three different countries, you finally have a well-deserved two-week break.

The past few races have been grueling, with long nights analyzing data and strategizing for each track. While you love your job, the intense schedule has left you drained. Now back home, you decide it's time to unwind and have some fun with your friends.

It's Friday evening, and you're getting ready for a girls' night out. Usually, you’d spend your Friday with Lando, but this time you were dying for a chance to let loose, dance with your friends and forget about work for a while. 

And maybe, forget about your little situationship, too.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, they say. Because as if on cue your phone starts buzzing with an incoming FaceTime call. Lando's name flashes on the screen.

You answer, propping the phone up on your dresser. "Hey, Lan," you greet him while still doing your makeup.

"Hey, you," he replies, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in your appearance. "Wow, you look hot. Are you going somewhere?"

You nod, turning back to the mirror to continue applying your eyeshadow. "Yep, heading out tonight. It's been ages since I've had a proper night out."

"Oh," Lando says, his tone curious. "Like, out out? Are you... um, going on a date or something?"

You can't help but smirk a little at his barely concealed interest. "Why, Lando Norris, are you fishing for information?" you tease. "I mean, I could be going on a date. We're not exclusive, after all."

Lando's expression falters for a moment before he catches himself, forcing a casual laugh. "No, no, of course not. I was just, you know, curious. Making conversation and all that."

You watch him in the phone screen, noticing how he's trying to play it cool but failing miserably. His jaw is tense, and he's fidgeting more than usual.

Taking pity on him, you decide to put him out of his misery. "Relax, Lando. It's just girls' night. After that triple header, I need to blow off some steam with my friends."

"Oh, right. Cool, cool," the relief on his face is palpable, "That sounds fun."

"Were you jealous, Norris?" you raise an eyebrow at him.

"Me? Jealous? Nah," he scoffs, but the slight blush creeping up his neck betrays him. "I mean, like you said, we're not... you know."

"Exclusive," you finish for him, feeling a familiar twinge in your chest at the word.

"Right," Lando nods, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Anyway, I hope you have a great time tonight. You deserve it after all the hard work these past few weeks."

"Thanks, Lan. I plan to."

"Call me if you need me to pick you up," Lando assures, making you smile softly. Maybe he actually cares about you, you think.

"Don't worry, I can handle myself."

Just as Lando was expecting, you call him around 2 AM, asking if he could come pick you up from the club.

He doesn’t think twice before he’s getting up, putting a hoodie on and grabbing his keys to leave the house.

His car pulls up outside the club about 15 minutes later. You make your way to the vehicle, sliding into the passenger seat with a giggle.

"Thanks for coming," you say, leaning towards him with a grin.

“Of course, love,” Lando looks you over, a playful smirk on his face. "Looks like someone had fun tonight."

“I did, but I missed you,” you say as he starts driving, you’re not sure if he’ll take you to your place or his, but you don’t want to sleep without him, "Oh! I have to tell you something,"

"Well do tell," he encourages, glancing at you with interest.

"There was this guy at the club," you begin, noticing how Lando's eyebrow quirks up. "He was really handsome, and he was flirting with me."

"Was he now?" Lando asks, his tone light but with an undercurrent of something else.

"Yup," you say, popping the 'p' sound. "I pushed him away. Because even though you might not be my boyfriend, I only want you. No one else."

Lando's lips curl into a pleased smile. "Is that so?" he says, his voice low and teasing. "And here I thought I was just your favorite Uber driver."

You burst into laughter, the sound filling the car. Then, feeling bold, you place your hand on his thigh. "Will you sleep with me tonight?"

Lando doesn't even flinch. Instead, he shoots you a mischievous look. "Just like that? Usually, I at least buy you dinner first."

You groan, moving your hand from his thigh but he quickly catches it and kisses your palm before resting it there again, “Of course I’ll stay with you, baby.”

As you arrive home, Lando helps you inside, his arm steady around your waist. You stumble a bit, giggling as you lean into him.

"Careful there," he says, "Let's get you sorted, shall we?"

He guides you to the kitchen, one hand on the small of your back. You hop onto a barstool, watching as he moves around your kitchen with surprising familiarity.

"Let's get some water in you," he says, filling a large glass. "And maybe some food too. When's the last time you ate?"

You scrunch your nose, trying to remember. "Um... before we went out? I think?"

Lando shakes his head, a fond smile on his face. "No wonder you're in this state. Drink this," he hands you the water, "and I'll make you a sandwich."

You sip the water obediently, watching him as he rummages through your fridge. "You don't have to do all this, you know," you say softly.

"I want to," he looks up at you, his eyes soft. "Let me take care of you, yeah?"

As you finish your water, he slides a plate with a sandwich in front of you. "Eat up, pretty girl. It'll help sober you up."

You take a bite, suddenly realizing how hungry you are. As you eat, Lando leans against the counter, watching you with amusement and something else you can't quite name.

"So," he says casually, "tell me about this handsome guy at the club."

You swallow your bite, looking up at him. "Jealous, Norris?"

"Just curious," he shrugs, a smirk playing at his lips. "You said you pushed him away?"

You nod, setting down the sandwich. "I did. He was nice, but... he wasn't you."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with implication. Lando's eyes sparkle, but he doesn't say anything.

You slide off the barstool and step closer to him. Your hands find his chest and you lean in, pressing your lips to his. He kisses back, his hands settling on your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss deepens, and you feel a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

But then Lando pulls away gently, resting his forehead against yours. "Let's go to sleep, pretty girl," he says, his voice low and a bit rough. "You need rest."

You pout, your fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. "But I want you," you whisper, leaning in so your lips are inches from his.

"And you can have me," he says softly, cupping your face with one hand. "But right now we're going to sleep."

You start to protest, but he silences you with a gentle kiss on the forehead. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

As he leads you to the bedroom, Lando's mind is in turmoil. He's acutely aware of the growing feelings he has for you - feelings that go far beyond the casual arrangement you've had so far. The way his heart races when you're near, the constant urge to make you smile, the fierce protectiveness he feels - it all points to something deeper, that both thrills and terrifies him.

But with these feelings comes a familiar fear. Commitment has always been hard for him. The demands of his career, the pressure of the public eye, the fear of letting someone down - they all contribute to his hesitation. And yet, as he looks at you now, soft and vulnerable in his arms, he can't help but wonder if you might be worth the risk.

In the bedroom, he helps you change into comfortable sleepwear. As you both lay down, you curl into his side, your head on his chest. The steady beat of his heart is soothing, and you feel yourself starting to drift off.

"Lando?" you ask, your voice sleepy.

"Hmm?" His hand is running through your hair, the gesture comforting.

"Do you push away the beautiful girls that come up to flirt with you? Like I did tonight?"

You feel his chest rise with a deep breath. There's a pause before he answers, "I do," he says softly. "There's only one girl I'm interested in."

You lift your head slightly, trying to look at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "Really? Who's that?"

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest. "I think you know, pretty girl."

You're fighting sleep now, but you're determined to get an answer. "Well, I don't believe you," you mumble, the words slurring together. "Prove it."

Lando opens his mouth to reply, but he realizes you're already asleep, your breathing evening out. He looks down at you, a fond smile on his face. Pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, he whispers, "Maybe I'll show you soon."

The Hungarian Grand Prix has just concluded, and the atmosphere in the McLaren garage is torn between elation and tension.

Oscar has claimed his first Formula 1 victory, a monumental achievement for him and the team. However, the circumstances of his win have left a bitter taste in Lando's mouth, casting a shadow over what should have been a moment of pure celebration for everyone.

You're standing off to the side, your mind racing. The strategy call wasn't yours directly, but as part of the team, you can't help feeling partly responsible for the decision that affected both drivers.

As Lando storms into the garage, his face like thunder, you brace yourself for the fallout. His usual easy-going demeanor is nowhere to be seen, replaced by a storm of anger and disappointment. You've seen Lando upset before, but this felt different.

"Lando," you start, reaching out to him, your voice soft and tentative.

"Save it," he snaps, his blue eyes flashing with anger as he brushes past you. The coldness in his voice makes you flinch. "I don't want to hear it. Not from you, not from anyone."

For the rest of the day, Lando avoids you like the plague. You take separate flights home so you don't really see him or hear from him after you left the circuit.

Over the next few days, you try reaching out via text, each message more desperate than the last. But they go unanswered, each 'read' receipt another twist of the knife. This isn't like Lando, to shut everyone out so completely. You can't help but wonder if this is about more than just the race.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, you decide to go to his place. It's a risky move, you know, but the thought of leaving things like this is unbearable. Using the spare key he gave you months ago - a gesture that had felt so significant at the time - you let yourself in.

The apartment is quiet, but not empty. You can feel his presence, sense the tension in the air.

"Lando?" you call out, your voice echoing slightly in the silent space.

You hear movement from his bedroom, and soon enough he emerges, dressed to go out, and freezes when he sees you. His expression hardens, the warmth you're used to seeing in his eyes replaced by a cold, distant look. "What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk, Lando," you say, your voice firm despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. "You can't just shut me out like this. It's not fair, and it's not right."

"I don't have time for this right now," Lando's jaw clenches, his gaze darting away from yours, "I'm heading out."

"Of course you are," you say, unable to keep the bitterness from your voice. "Because going out and partying is so much easier than facing your problems, isn't it?"

His eyes narrow, a spark of anger igniting, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're running away," you say, taking a step closer. "From the race, from the team, from me. We're all just trying to do our best, Lando. The team made a call, and it worked out for the best. Why can't you see that?"

"Because it wasn't the best for me!" Lando explodes, his composure finally cracking. "Do you have any idea what it's like? To have victory in your grasp and then have it taken away? To be told that you're not good enough, that your teammate is the better choice?"

"That's not what happened, and you know it," you argue back, your own frustration bubbling over. "It was a strategic decision, not a judgment on your abilities. You're letting your ego cloud your judgment."

"My ego?" Lando's laugh is harsh and humorless, "That's rich, coming from someone who's never had to make these kinds of sacrifices."

The words hang in the air between you, sharp and cutting. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside you. You's never had an argument like this before.

"Fine," you say finally, your voice quiet but firm. "Go out if that's what you want. But don't call me when you're feeling lonely later tonight. I'm not just some convenient comfort for when you decide you need me."

Something flashes in Lando's eyes – hurt, perhaps, or regret. But it's quickly replaced by a hardness that makes your heart ache.

"Don't worry," he retorts, his voice cold. "I can always find another girl to keep me company. I don't need you for that."

The words hit you like a physical blow, and you take an involuntary step back. The undefined nature of your relationship, once thrilling in its potential, now feels like a weapon being used against you.

"Is that what this is to you?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "Just a convenient arrangement? Someone to warm your bed when you can't find anyone else?"

Lando's expression softens for a moment, regret flickering across his features. But he doesn't take back his words. Instead, he turns away, his hand on the front door.

"You know your way out." And with that, he's out of the door.

A week later, Formula 1 has moved to the iconic Spa-Francorchamps circuit in Belgium. The air is thick with anticipation - not just for the upcoming race, but for the looming summer break that follows.

You've thrown yourself into your work, burying your emotions under a mountain of data analysis and strategy planning. The tension between you and Lando hasn't gone unnoticed by the team, but thankfully, everyone's too focused on the upcoming race to pry.

You haven't spoke to Lando after your argument at his place, and you blocked his number, leaving him unable to contact you.

As you make your way through the paddock, your arms full of printouts and your mind racing with tire degradation calculations, you spot a familiar figure approaching. Lando, clad in his McLaren team shirt, is walking purposefully in your direction. Your heart rate spikes, and you quickly duck into a nearby hospitality area, pretending to be engrossed in conversation with a group of engineers.

This dance continues throughout the day. Lando tries to catch your eye during the team briefing, but you keep your gaze fixed on your tablet. He lingers near your station in the garage, but you find urgent errands that take you elsewhere. It's exhausting, this game of cat and mouse, but you're not ready to face him - not yet.

As the day winds down, you're making your final rounds, double-checking that everything is set for tomorrow's practice sessions. The paddock is quieter now, most team members having retired for the evening.

You're so focused on your checklist that you don't notice the approaching footsteps until it's too late.

"We need to talk," Lando's voice, firm and tinged with frustration, breaks the silence.

You spin around and Lando stands before you, his blue eyes intense and determined. He's changed out of his team shirt into a simple t-shirt and jeans, his hair slightly tousled as if he's been running his hands through it.

"Lando, I-" you begin, but he cuts you off.

"No, don't give me another excuse," he says, stepping closer. "We've been dancing around each other all day. Enough is enough."

Before you can protest, he gently but firmly takes your arm and starts guiding you towards the McLaren motorhome. You could resist, but something in his tone, a note of desperation perhaps, makes you comply.

The motorhome is quiet and dimly lit as Lando leads you inside and up to the second level where the drivers have their private areas. He ushers you into his room, closing the door behind you.

The space is unmistakably Lando's - a gaming setup in one corner, a few personal photos tacked to a board, his race suit hanging neatly on a hook. The familiarity of it all makes your heart ache.

Lando runs a hand through his hair, pacing for a moment before turning to face you.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out, the words tumbling from his lips as if he's afraid he'll lose his nerve if he doesn't say them immediately. "I'm so sorry for how I acted, for what I said. It was awful, and you didn't deserve any of it."

You stand there, arms crossed, trying to maintain your composure even as a lot of emotions overwhelm you. "You were an asshole, Lando," you say quietly.

"I know," he nods, "I was angry and frustrated, but that's no excuse. I took it out on you when you were just trying to help." He takes a step closer, his eyes pleading. "I've been miserable this past week. I missed you so much, and the thought that I might have ruined everything between us… it's been killing me."

Despite your best efforts to stay strong, you feel your resolve weakening. You're weak when it comes to him, and you're pretty sure he knows it.

"I missed you too," you admit softly. "But Lando, we can't keep doing this. We can't just pretend everything's fine and then lash out at each other when things get tough."

"I know, I know," Lando nods eagerly. "I want to do better. I want to be better," he pauses for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting your eyes again. "And I didn't go home with anyone that night, by the way,"

You furrow your brow, momentarily confused by the seemingly random statement. Then, like a flash, you remember his cruel words from that night in his house.

As you laid in bed the night of the argument, you couldn't help but wonder if Lando had gone home with someone else, and if that was how it worked when you were not there.

And it hurt more that you ever thought possible.

"Oh," you respond, aiming for nonchalance but not quite hitting the mark. "That's… I mean, you didn't have to tell me that. It's not like we're…"

You trail off, unsure how to finish that sentence. What are you, exactly?

Lando takes a step closer, his blue eyes intense as they lock with yours. "I know I don't have to tell you," he says, his voice low and earnest. "But I want you to know. I only want you to keep me company, not anyone else."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. But almost immediately, a more cynical part of your mind chimes in. He wants you, but he doesn't want to be in a relationship with you. He wants the comfort, the intimacy, but not the commitment.

"Lando, I…" you begin, but the words catch in your throat. You want to ask for clarification, to define what this is between you, but fear holds you back.

Lando seems to sense your inner turmoil. He reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. "I know I messed up," he says softly. "And I know things between us are… complicated. But I mean what I said. You're the only one I want."

You look down at your joined hands, then back up at Lando's face. Despite despite the voice in your head warning you to be careful, you feel yourself giving in. The pull is too strong, the desire to be with him overpowering your rational mind.

"Okay," you whisper, squeezing his hand.

Lando's face breaks into a relieved smile, his eyes lighting up. He pulls you into another embrace, holding you close. You allow yourself to sink into his warmth, pushing your doubts to the back of your mind for now.

When you finally pull apart, Lando's expression is soft, almost reverent. "Are we good?" he asks, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

You take a deep breath, considering the question. Are you good? There's still so much left unsaid, so many questions unanswered. But looking at Lando, feeling the comfort of his presence, you can't bring yourself to disrupt this moment of peace between you.

"Yes," you say, managing a small smile. "We're good."

The early morning sunlight filters through the curtains of Lando's Monaco apartment. You stir slowly, consciousness creeping in as you become aware of the warm body next to you. Opening your eyes, you're greeted by the sight of Lando's peaceful sleeping face, his features relaxed and vulnerable in a way they rarely are when he's awake.

It's been two weeks since your conversation in the motorhome at Spa, and true to form, you and Lando had fallen back into your familiar rhythm without missing a beat. The race weekend had gone well, with both McLarens finishing in the points, and you'd flown to Monaco with Lando for the first part of the summer break without a second thought.

As you watch Lando sleep, you can't help but feel that being here with him feels right in a way that's hard to describe. You know that this thing between you, whatever it is, is a ticking time bomb if you don't define it soon. But every time you think about approaching the subject, fear holds you back.

So you've chosen to ignore it, to live in this blissful bubble for as long as you can. You tell yourself that you'll deal with it later, after the summer break, after the next race, after the season ends. There's always a reason to put it off.

Lando begins to stir, his eyelids fluttering open. When his gaze focuses on you, a slow, sleepy smile spreads across his face. "Morning, beautiful," he murmurs, his voice husky with sleep.

"Morning," you reply softly, unable to help the smile that mirrors his.

Lando reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek as he leans in for a kiss. It starts soft and sweet, but quickly deepens as he pulls you closer. His other hand trails down your side, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You sigh into the kiss, your own hands exploring the familiar planes of his chest and back.

As things start to heat up, Lando rolls you onto your back, hovering over you. His lips leave yours to trail kisses along your jaw and down your neck. You arch into him, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Just as things are about to progress further, there's a sharp knock at the front door.

"Ignore it," Lando whispers, leaning in to capture your lips again.

You lose yourself in the kiss for a moment before another, more insistent knock breaks through. Lando groans in frustration, dropping his forehead to your shoulder.

"I should probably see who that is," he sighs, reluctantly pulling away.

You watch as he gets out of bed, admiring the view as he pulls on a pair of sweatpants before heading downstairs.

Curious about who could be visiting so early, you decide to follow after a few minutes. You grab Lando's discarded t-shirt from the night before, pulling it on. It falls to mid-thigh, long enough to be decent for a quick peek downstairs.

As you descend the stairs, you hear familiar voices from the entryway. Your heart drops as you recognize the second voice - it's Max Verstappen. Panic sets in as you realize the compromising position you're in, but it's too late. You've already rounded the corner, coming face to face with both drivers.

For a moment, everything freezes. You stand there, a deer caught in headlights, wearing nothing but Lando's shirt. Max's eyes widen in surprise, darting between you and Lando. Lando looks equally shocked, clearly not expecting you to come downstairs.

Mortified, you turn on your heel and bolt back upstairs, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. As you retreat, you hear Max's voice, tinged with amusement and surprise.

"Dude, isn't that one of your strategists?"

You don't hear Lando's response as you shut the bedroom door behind you. This is exactly the kind of situation you'd been afraid of, the reason why leaving things undefined was so dangerous.

Downstairs, the conversation continues.

"Yeah, she is," Lando admits, running a hand through his hair nervously.

"Wow, okay," Max lets out a low whistle, "So… how long has this been going on? Please tell me it's recent and not, like, during the season or something."

Lando hesitates for a moment before answering. "It's… been a while actually. Over a year."

"A YEAR?!" Max exclaims, his voice rising in disbelief. "Lando, mate, are you serious? You've been hooking up with a team member for over a year and nobody knew?"

"It's not just hooking up," Lando defends, though his voice lacks conviction. "It's… complicated."

"Complicated?" Max raises an eyebrow, "Sounds like a disaster waiting to happen if you ask me. Does the team know?"

"No," Lando shakes his head, "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything. It's not affecting our work, so no one needs to know."

"Hey, not my circus, not my monkeys," Max holds up his hands in surrender, "But seriously, Lando, be careful. This kind of thing can blow up in your face if you're not careful."

They exchange a few more words before Max takes his leave, reminding Lando about their plans for later in the week. As soon as the door closes behind Max, Lando bounds up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

He finds you in the bedroom, already dressed in own clothes. You're pacing nervously, chewing on your bottom lip - a habit he knows you fall into when you're anxious.

"Hey," he says softly, approaching you cautiously. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't expect Max to show up unannounced."

You stop pacing, turning to face him. "It's fine," you say, but your voice is tight. "I should go."

"What? No, please don't go," Lando's face falls, "Max won't say anything, I promise. He may be a bit of a prat sometimes, but he can keep a secret."

"I'll just have a walk around the harbor, I'll be back," you say as you grab your phone from the nightstand.

"But why?" Lando asks, a note of panic creeping into his voice. "Is this because Max saw you? I swear, it's not a big deal."

"I'll meet you for lunch, okay? you say softly, avoiding Lando's gaze.

"Okay," he replies simply, not pushing for more.

Without further conversation, you gather your belongings and head for the door. Feeling more conflicted than ever before.

After Max caught you together in Monaco, you stayed a few more days with Lando before reluctantly going back home, and he took on a trip with his family. You don't really see him for the rest of the summer break, until he showed up at your place two weeks before it was time to get back to work.

"So," Lando says as you laid in bed, "ready to go back to being all professional and proper soon, Ms. Strategist?"

"Oh, I'm always professional, Norris. It's you who can't keep your eyes off me during briefings."

"Me? Lando gasps in mock offense, "I'll have you know I'm the picture of focus and concentration."

"Sure," you drawl, "That's why you kept 'accidentally' brushing against me in the garage."

He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Can you blame me? You're irresistible when you're talking about tire strategies."

You laugh, pushing him away playfully, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach at his proximity. "Smooth talker. Is that how you charm all the girls?"

"Nah," he grins, pulling you back towards him. "Just the brilliant, beautiful ones who can calculate pit stop windows in their sleep."

Your breath catches as he nuzzles your neck, his stubble tickling your skin. For a moment, you consider bringing up the conversation you've been avoiding all summer. "Lando," you murmur, "we should probably talk about-"

He silences you with a kiss, deep and passionate. "Or," he says, his eyes dark with desire, "we could make the most of our night."

You know you should resist, that you should have that conversation you've been avoiding. But as Lando's hands start to wander, you find your resolve weakening, as always.

You don't really hear from Lando after that night. He says goodbye after breakfast the following day, and then it's radio silence.

You try not to think too much of it, the break is coming to an end and he has responsibilities and work to go, it's not personal, you try to convince yourself.

But your mind can't help but wander. Is he with someone else? Is he avoiding you? Did you make him upset and you failed to notice?

But you don't dare to bring it up to him. He's not your boyfriend, after all.

The transition back to work after the summer break is jarring. The McLaren Technology Centre buzzes with activity as everyone prepares for the upcoming race. You're immediately swept up in meetings, data analysis, and strategy sessions. Despite working in the same building, you and Lando barely cross paths for days. The few times you do see him from afar, he's always surrounded by engineers or caught up in simulator work.

Finally, the team arrives at Zandvoort Circuit for the Dutch Grand Prix. The atmosphere of the paddock envelops you as you make your way to the McLaren garage, your arms full of strategy documents and your mind racing with last-minute considerations for the race.

As you approach, you spot Lando and Oscar chatting animatedly near the entrance. Your heart does a little flip at the sight of Lando, and you can't help but smile. You've missed him more than you care to admit.

"Morning, boys," you call out, aiming for a casual tone as you near them.

They both turn, matching grins spreading across their faces. "Hey there, stranger," Lando says, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mischief that never fails to make your stomach flutter.

Oscar, ever the gentleman, moves to take some of the papers from your arms. "Let me help you with those. How was your break?"

You smile gratefully, handing him a stack of documents. "Thanks, Oscar. It was lovely, very relaxing. How about yours?"

As Oscar launches into a story about his time back home in Australia and his trip with his girlfriend, you can't help but steal glances at Lando.

He looks good - tanned and relaxed, with a hint of stubble that you know from experience feels delightfully rough against your skin. You quickly push that thought aside, reminding yourself of where you are.

"Oh, that reminds me," Oscar says suddenly, turning to Lando with a sly grin. "How did that lunch go the other day? With Emma?"

You feel your body tense involuntarily. Lunch? Emma? Who's Emma?

Lando's eyes widen slightly, and he shoots a quick glance your way before looking back at Oscar. "Oh, uh, it was fine. Just a casual thing, you know."

But Oscar, oblivious to the sudden tension, presses on. "Come on, mate, don't be modest. Emma told Lily it went really well. Said you two really hit it off."

You feel as if all the air has been sucked out of your lungs. The documents in your arms suddenly feel impossibly heavy.

Lando runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you've come to recognize. "It wasn't… I mean, it was just lunch, Oscar. Don't make a big deal out of it."

"I'm just saying," Oscar continues, still grinning, "she seems really into you. Might be worth giving it a shot, yeah? It's about time you settled down with someone nice."

You can't bear to hear any more. "I should get these to the engineers," you mutter, already turning away. "See you guys later."

As you walk away, you hear Lando call out your name, but you don't stop. You can't stop. If you stop, you might fall apart right there in the middle of the paddock.

You make it to the back of the garage before you hear rapid footsteps behind you. "Hey, wait up," Lando's voice comes from behind you, slightly out of breath.

You turn slowly, trying to school your features into a neutral expression. "What is it, Lando? I'm kind of busy."

He looks at you, his eyes searching your face. "About what Oscar said… it's not what you think."

"What do I think, Lando?" you raise an eyebrow, fighting to keep your voice steady. "We never defined what this is, remember? You're free to have lunch with whoever you want."

"It was just a favor for Oscar," Lando steps closer, lowering his voice. "His girlfriend's friend is new in town, and they asked if I'd show her around. That's all it was, I swear."

You want to believe him. God, how you want to believe him. But the memory of those blissful days during the summer break, followed by days of silence and now this… it's too much.

"Look, Lando," you say, hating how your voice wavers slightly, "we both knew this couldn't last. We have jobs to do, careers to think about. Maybe… maybe this is for the best."

"What? No, that's not…" Lando starts, reaching for your arm, but you step back.

"I really need to get these to the engineers," you say, gesturing with the documents still clutched to your chest like a shield. "We should both focus on the race this weekend. That's what we're here for, right?"

Without waiting for a response, you turn and walk away, your vision blurring slightly as you blink back tears. You can feel Lando's gaze boring into your back, but you don't turn around. You can't.

As you round the corner, out of sight from the main garage, you lean against the wall for a moment, taking deep breaths to compose yourself. The rational part of your brain knows you're overreacting, that you should hear Lando out. But the emotional part, the part that's been dreading this moment since this situationship began, is in full fight or flight mode.

With one final deep breath, you push off the wall and head towards the engineering room, burying your personal turmoil beneath layers of race strategy and tire calculations. Lando Norris was consuming every part of you.

The tension between you and Lando remains palpable throughout the race weekend. You both maintain focused on your jobs, but there's a hint that something is not right with you.

The truth is, your situation with Lando has been consuming you for weeks now. What started as a casual arrangement has grown into something much deeper, at least for you.

The more time you spend with Lando, the harder you fall for him. And it's terrifying. Being casual isn't enough anymore; it hasn't been for a while. You've reached a point where you don't think you can continue this way. The pain of loving him in secret, of always being on the edge of something more but never quite reaching it, is becoming unbearable. You need clarity, commitment - or you need to walk away before you lose yourself completely.

To make matters more complicated, Lando wins the race at Zandvoort, securing his second victory of the season—one he had been craving since Miami. Your heart breaks even more as you realize you can't even celebrate this moment with him properly. Watching him on the podium, champagne in hand and pure joy radiating from his face, you feel like crying right there.

You want to run to him, throw yourself into his arms and celebrate with him, tell him how proud you feel and how much he deserves this. But you can't, not until whatever is going on between you gets sorted out.

It's not until after the race, when the celebrations cool down and the team begins to pack up, that Lando finally corners you in a quiet moment.

"Can we talk?" he asks, his voice low and urgent. "Please?"

You hesitate, glancing around the garage. Most of the team is busy with post-race duties, paying you no attention. With a sigh, you nod and follow Lando to a more secluded area behind the motorhome.

"First of all, congratulations on the win. You really deserve it," you say as soon as you're alone, trying to keep your voice steady.

Lando gives you a bittersweet smile. "Thanks, but that's not what occupies my mind right now," he replies, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes your heart race, "I don't understand what happened back there. Why won't you believe me about Oscar's friend?"

You cross your arms, a defensive posture you're all too aware of. "It's not just about her, Lando. It's… everything."

"What do you mean, everything?" he asks, brow furrowed.

"I mean this whole situation," you take a deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts, "I thought I could handle it, but…"

"But what?" Lando steps closer, his voice softening, "Talk to me, please."

"But it's getting harder," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Every time I see you with someone else, every time we have to pretend there's nothing between us, it hurts a little more."

Lando reaches for your hand, and this time you don't pull away. "You're the only one I want," he says earnestly. "You have to know that."

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. "You always say that, Lando. But you still won't fully commit to me. It's hard to believe it when you won't put a label on us, when you go out with other women-"

"That wasn't a date," Lando interrupts, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "I told you, it was just a favor for Oscar."

"I know, I know," you say, pulling your hand away and running it through your hair. "But that's not the point. The point is, I don't know where I stand with you. We've been doing this dance for over a year now, and I still don't know what we are to each other."

"I thought you were okay with this. With us staying without a label. You agreed to keep things casual."

"I was okay with it," you turn away, blinking back tears. "But it's not enough anymore. At least, not for me."

There's a long moment of silence. When you turn back, Lando is staring at the ground, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"What are you saying?" he asks finally, his voice small.

"I'm saying that I can't do this anymore, Lando," you say firmly, "I want more. I need more."

"We agreed it was too complicted," Lando looks up at you, his eyes wide and vulnerable, "That we couldn't be in a relationship."

"I know what we agreed," you say, your voice cracking slightly. "But feelings change. People change. I've changed, Lando. And I can't keep putting my heart on hold for a someday that might never come."

Lando steps forward, reaching for you again. "Please, don't do this. We can figure it out. I'll try to be more open about us. We can tell our friends."

You shake your head, cutting him off. "It's not just about telling people, Lando. It's about commitment. It's about knowing that when I go home at night, I'm not just someone in your bed. It's about building a future together, not just living for the moment."

"I don't know if I can give you that. Not right now," Lando's face falls. "My career is at a great point, and-"

"And mine isn't?" you interrupt, a flash of anger cutting through your sadness. "Do you think I'm not risking just as much as you are? If not more? But I'm willing to take that risk because what we have… what we could have… it's worth it to me."

You watch as emotions play across Lando's face - confusion, fear, longing. Finally, he speaks, his voice barely audible. "I don't want to lose you."

Your heart aches, but you stand your ground. "Then give me a reason to stay, Lando. Show me that I'm more than just a convenient distraction between races."

Lando opens his mouth to respond, but you hold up a hand to stop him. "Don't answer now. Think about it. Really think about what you want. Because I can't keep going on like this. It's not fair to either of us."

With that, you turn and walk away, leaving Lando standing alone behind the motorhome. As you make your way back to the garage, you can feel the weight of unshed tears burning behind your eyes. But you don't let them fall. Not here, not now.

You've laid your cards on the table. Now it's up to Lando to decide what he's willing to do with them.

The Monza race weekend flies by in a whirlwind of noise and action. You keep yourself busy, diving deep into numbers and race plans to avoid thinking about your feelings. It's easier to focus on tire strategies and pit stop timings than to deal with the ache in your chest every time you see Lando.

When you do have to talk to Lando, you both act normal and professional. But there's a tension in the air between you, like a tight rubber band ready to snap. You catch others giving you worried looks sometimes, and it makes you feel even more on edge.

Lando has not given you any kind of response to your talk in Zandvoort, and it's been just a week, but you feel like you know his answer. He's not willing to give you what you ask for. And it hurts, more than you can say.

As Sunday night gets closer, whispers of Carlos Sainz's birthday celebration begin to circulate through the paddock. You know Lando will definitely go - he and Carlos are really close friends. A small part of you wishes you could go too. You imagine laughing with your coworkers, having a drink, and forgetting about all the drama for a while.

But then you think about seeing Lando there. You picture having to smile and act like everything's fine when it's not. The thought of making awkward small talk with him, or worse, seeing him chatting happily with someone else, makes your stomach churn. It feels like too much to handle right now.

In the end, the thought of facing Lando and all those people is just too much. You decide to skip the party, even though a part of you feels guilty and a bit left out. But the relief you feel at making this decision tells you it's the right choice for now.

As the sun begins to set after the race and everyone gets ready for the party, you retreat to your hotel room. You order room service – a plate of pasta that you barely touch – and settle in for a quiet evening alone. You try to lose yourself in a book, but the words blur on the page, your mind constantly wandering to thoughts of Lando. Is he at the party now? Is he having fun? Is he thinking of you at all?

Meanwhile, at Carlos' birthday celebration, Lando finds himself struggling to enjoy the party. He mingles half-heartedly, his laugh a beat too late, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. He can't help but scan the room periodically, hoping against hope that you might have changed your mind and decided to come.

Max, observant as ever and knowing his friend too well, notices Lando's distraction and pulls him aside.

"You alright, mate?" Max asks, "You look like you'd rather be anywhere but here."

Lando sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Is it that obvious?"

Max nods, taking a sip of his drink. "Want to talk about it?"

For a moment, Lando considers brushing it off, but the weight of the past week suddenly feels too heavy to bear alone. "It's about her," he admits quietly.

Max doesn't need to ask who 'her' is. By now he knows the situation his friend is caught up in, "Trouble in paradise?" he asks.

"More like paradise lost," Lando lets out a humorless laugh, "I think I really messed up, Max. I was so worried about keeping things casual, about not complicating our working relationship, that I didn't realize how fucked up the whole thing was."

"So what are you going to do about it?" Max asks.

Lando looks around the room, at the laughing faces and clinking glasses, and suddenly feels very out of place. "I don't know. I just know I can't be here right now. Not when things are like this between us."

"Then go," he says simply. "Go find her. Talk to her. Life's too short for regrets, especially in our line of work."

Lando looks at Max, a hint of his usual playful smile returning despite the situation. "When did you become so wise, Verstappen? Did all those championship trophies finally knock some sense into you?"

"Someone has to be the voice of reason around here," Max rolls his eyes, but there's a fond smile on his face, "Now go on, get out of here before Carlos finds you and makes you stay, I'll distract him."

"Thanks, Max. I owe you one," Lando chuckles, patting his back.

"You owe me several, but who's counting?" Max grins, clapping Lando on the shoulder. "Now go get your girl."

With a newfound sense of purpose, Lando slips out of the party. His heart pounds as he makes his way to your hotel, not even sure if you would want to talk to him.

When he's finally standing in front of you door, he knocks softly, hope and fear warring in his chest as he waits for you to answer.

You're curled up on the bed, still trying and failing to focus on your book, when you hear the knock. Confused, you glance at the clock - it's barely past 10 PM. The party should still be in full swing. Who could be at your door?

As you pad over to the door and peer through the peephole, your breath catches in your throat. It's Lando, looking slightly disheveled, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

You hesitate, your hand on the doorknob. Part of you wants to fling the door open and throw yourself into his arms. But another part, the part that's been hurt and confused for the past week, holds you back.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you slowly open the door, trying to keep your expression neutral despite the emotions inside you.

"Lando?" you say, trying to sound calm even though your heart is racing. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be at Carlos' party."

Lando looks a bit messy, like he rushed over. He shifts from foot to foot, looking nervous. "I was," he says. "But I couldn't stay. Not when you weren't there."

You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms. You're trying to protect yourself, even though you want to believe him. "You left your best friend's birthday party early because of me?"

Lando nods, looking right at you. His eyes are so intense it makes your heart beat even faster. "Can I come in? I think we need to talk."

You hesitate for a moment. You're scared of getting hurt again, but you also really want to hear what he has to say, even if it breaks your heart. Finally, you step back and let him in.

As he passes by, you catch a whiff of his cologne mixed with the faint scent of the paddock - a combination that's uniquely Lando and achingly familiar.

Lando walks into the room, running a hand through his hair. "I've been doing a lot of thinking this past week," he begins, turning to face you. "About us."

Your heart starts to race, but you force yourself to remain calm. "And?" you prompt, when he doesn't continue.

"And you were right. About everything," Lando takes a deep breath, "I've been so focused on not complicating things, that I didn't realize how much I was hurting you.”

"Lando, I-"

"Please, let me finish," Lando interrupts you softly, "The truth is, I've been scared. Terrified, actually. Of commitment, of letting someone in completely, of potentially damaging our careers if things went wrong. But this past week without you… it's been hell", he takes a step closer to you, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "I've dated before, had relationships, but nothing has ever felt like this. What we have… it's different. Special. And I've been an idiot for not seeing it sooner."

Your breath catches in your throat as Lando continues, his words coming faster now, as if he's afraid he'll lose his nerve if he doesn't get them all out. "I kept telling myself that keeping things casual was the smart thing to do. That it was protecting both of us. But all I've done is push you away and make you doubt how much you mean to me."

He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture you've seen him do countless times when he's nervous or frustrated. "The truth is, I'm crazy about you. I think about you all the time. When something good happens, you're the first person I want to tell. When something goes wrong, you're the one I want to turn to. And it scares the hell out of me because I've never felt this way about anyone before."

Your heart is pounding so hard you're sure Lando must be able to hear it. You want to speak, to tell him how much his words mean to you, but you can see he's not finished yet.

"I know I've messed up. I know I've hurt you by not being clear about my feelings, by not giving you the commitment you deserve. And I'm so, so sorry for that," Lando's voice cracks slightly, and you can see the sincerity in his eyes. "But if you're willing to give me another chance, I want to do this right. No more hiding, no more pretending we're just casual. I want to be with you, properly. I want to tell our friends, take you on proper dates. I want everything."

He takes another step closer, close enough now that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. "I can't promise it'll be easy. Our careers, the media attention, the travel - it's all going to be complicated. But I'm willing to fight for this, for us, if you are."

You stand there, momentarily stunned by Lando's words. Your mind is racing, trying to process everything he's just said. You've dreamed of hearing something like this from him for so long, but now that it's happening, you find yourself almost paralyzed.

Taking a shaky breath, you finally find your voice. "Lando, I… I don't know what to say. This is everything I've wanted to hear from you, but I'm scared too. What if we try this and it doesn't work out? What if we end up ruining our friendship, our work relationship?"

Lando's hand finally makes contact with your cheek, his touch impossibly gentle. "Those are all valid fears," he says softly. "And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried about the same things. But I think what we have is worth the risk. Don't you?"

You lean into his touch, your eyes closing for a moment as you savor the feeling. When you open them again, you see Lando looking at you with such tenderness it makes your heart ache.

"I do," you whisper. "I really do. But Lando, I need you to be sure, if we do this, I need all of you. No more half measures, no more hiding."

Lando nods, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. "I'm sure. I want all of you, and I want to give you all of me in return."

The sincerity in his voice, the look in his eyes - it's everything you've been longing for. Unable to resist any longer, you close the distance between you and press your lips to Lando's. The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as if you're both afraid this moment might shatter. But then Lando's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and the kiss deepens.

It's not your first kiss, not by a long shot, but it feels different this time. There's a promise in this kiss, a commitment that wasn't there before.

You pour all your pent-up emotions - the longing, the frustration, the love you've been holding back. Lando responds with equal passion, one hand tangling in your hair while the other presses against the small of your back.

When you finally break apart, Lando rests his forehead against yours, a smile playing on his lips.

"I've missed you so much," he murmurs. The relief and happiness that flood Lando's face are beautiful to see.

"I've missed you too," you admit. "More than I wanted to admit, even to myself."

Lando's hands start to wander, tracing patterns on your back that make you shiver, you melt at his touch, but then your mind starts racing again.

"Where do we go from here, Lan?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando takes a moment to consider your question, his hands still gently caressing your back. He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, his expression a mix of tenderness and determination.

"Well," he starts, a small smile playing on his lips, "I think we take it one step at a time. We don't need to rush anything, but we also don't need to hide anymore."

You nod, encouraging him to continue.

"First things first," Lando says, his voice growing more confident, "I want to take you on a proper date. No sneaking around, no pretending we're just colleagues grabbing a quick bite. I want to take you somewhere nice, hold your hand in public, and not care who sees us."

The thought makes your heart flutter. "I'd like that," you reply softly.

You wrap your arms around him, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. For the first time in a long while, you feel truly happy and hopeful about the future.

"So," Lando says after a moment, a hint of mischief in his voice, "since I left Carlos' party early to come here... does that mean I get to stay the night?"

You laugh, playfully swatting his arm. "Cheeky," you tease, but there's no real accusation in your voice. Instead, you lean in and kiss him.

As the kiss intensifies, you both start moving towards the bed, hands roaming and clothes starting to come off. This time, there's no holding back, no pretending this is just a casual thing. Every touch, every kiss is infused with the promise of something lasting.

Two weeks later, you're in Baku for the Azerbaijan Grand Prix.

You're in the McLaren garage, eyes fixed on your tablet as you analyze the latest telemetry data. The familiar sounds of mechanics working and engineers discussing strategy fill the air, but you're completely focused on your task.

Suddenly, you sense a pair of eyes on you. Without turning, a smile tugs at your lips. You know exactly who it is.

"See something you like?" you ask playfully, still not looking up from your work.

You hear a low chuckle, then feel a warm presence behind you. "Just admiring my girlfriend," Lando's voice is soft, meant only for your ears.

He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you gently against him. His lips brush your shoulder in a tender kiss that sends a shiver down your spine.

The past fortnight has been a whirlwind of emotions and adjustments. True to his word, Lando has taken you on proper dates and you've made your relationship official. You still feel giddy every time Lando calls you his girlfriend, a fact that hasn't escaped his notice. He seems to take particular joy in introducing you as such, his eyes always seeking out your reaction.

"How's the data looking?" he says, giving you a quick squeeze.

"Pretty good, actually," you turn back to your tablet, but remain in his loose embrace. "Your last practice session showed some promising improvements in sector two."

"That's my girl," Lando murmurs, pride evident in his voice. "Always making me look good."

You chuckle, elbowing him gently. "You do that all on your own, superstar. I just provide the numbers."

You turn in Lando's arms, facing him with a soft smile. The garage bustles around you, but in this moment, it feels like you're in your own little bubble.

"You know," you say, your voice low, "I never thought I'd be standing here like this with you. In the middle of the garage, no less."

Lando's eyes crinkle as he grins, his hands resting comfortably on your waist. "Having second thoughts?" he teases.

"Not at all," you shake your head, your smile widening. "It's just different. Good different."

"The best kind of different," Lando agrees, echoing his words from that night in your hotel room.

"I should probably get back to work," you say reluctantly, not making any move to step away.

Lando nods, but doesn't loosen his hold on you. "Probably," he agrees, a mischievous glint in his eye. "But first…"

He leans in, pressing a quick but tender kiss to your lips. It's brief, mindful of your surroundings, but filled with promise.

As he pulls back, you can't help but laugh softly. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

"You love it," Lando grins, finally releasing you from his embrace.

"I do," you admit, your heart full. "Now go on, superstar. You've got a car to drive soon."

As you watch him blow you a kiss which made you throw your head back in laughter as he left, your heart feels full.

You and Lando. Lando and You. Finally, together.

[niilue]

—when vi finally speaks, it’s not just her words you hear, but the weight of everything she’s too scared to lose.—

part i.

cw: female reader, vi x reader, angsty, jealousy, emotional hurt, hurt-comfort, vi’s emotional struggle, vulnerable vi, mention of caitvi's relationship, slow burn, spoilers s2. this is long writer's note: guys this is long!! i didn't even know how to do this part, i tried to make it as canon as possible to vi's character, and remember this is fiction, not hate <3-

vi didn’t move immediately after ou left. she stood there, in the middle of the alley, listening to the sound of your footsteps fading away and feeling like with each one, something inside her broke a little more. your words still echoed in her head, louder than any punch she had ever taken in the ring.

"why are you acting like this is personal?"

she had said those words reflexively, without thinking, in an attempt to protect herself. but now, as she remembered them, all she felt was a sharp pang of shame. she had seen the pain in your face when she said them, had felt the weight of your emotions and how your words had been filled with anger and something deeper, something vi couldn’t quite understand.

"why did it matter so much to her?"

it was the only question she could ask herself as she stood there, motionless. she had faced fights, betrayals, even death, but she had never dealt with something as confusing as this. she had never had to look at someone and realize she didn’t understand what they were feeling.

caitlyn approached, breaking the silence with a tone that seemed to carry more judgment than compassion.

“vi…”

“not now, cait,” vi replied automatically, with a harshness that wasn’t aimed at her, but at herself.

but caitlyn didn’t stop.

“vi, you have to let her go. it’s clear that this��� whatever it is that’s going on between you two…”

“you don’t understand!” vi raised her voice, turning toward caitlyn. her eyes were red, full of frustration and something caitlyn hadn’t seen in her before: fear.

caitlyn raised her hands in surrender, but the damage was already done. vi felt the explosion of emotions inside her, a chaos of unanswered questions that pushed her to act, to move, even though she didn’t know where to go.

"why does she care so much?"

vi started walking aimlessly, her footsteps echoing in the empty streets of zaun while her mind raced. the image of your face, of your eyes full of tears and pain, wouldn’t leave her alone. you had said you were nothing, that you would never be anything, but even so, your words had been full of something more: broken hope, a love that seemed too strong to ignore.

"why does she look at me like that?" vi thought, clenching her fists. she wanted to hit something, wanted all that noise in her head to stop. but she couldn’t. your words were still there, like an echo that wouldn’t fade.

“i never asked her to stay,” she muttered to herself, her voice heavy with self-defense.

but as soon as she said it, she knew it was a lie.

vi stopped in a dark corner, leaning against the wall as her breathing turned erratic. the streets around her were empty, but inside her, everything was full of noise.

“she’s the one who decided to stay,” she whispered again, trying to convince herself. but she couldn’t.

every time she tried to come up with an excuse, your image came back to her mind: you, taking care of her on the days when she didn’t even want to get off the floor. you, following her steps even when she yelled at you to leave her alone. you, looking at her like there was still something in her worth saving.

"why did you do it? why do you care so much?"

vi closed her eyes, her hands trembling as she tried to recall every word you had said. you had mentioned the darkest moments, the days when she punished herself in the ring, the days when alcohol was her only companion.

you had said you were there. that you had always been there.

vi felt something inside her break. you had been there, yes, but she had never seen it that way. she had never allowed those things to matter because… because if she did, she would have to face something she wasn’t ready to feel.

"why did you do it?" she murmured, as if speaking to you, though you weren’t there to hear her.

the answer came slowly, like a current breaking through the chaos in her mind. you hadn’t done it for her. you had done it because it was what you felt. because you wanted to save her, even when she didn’t want to save herself.

"you took it personally because it was always personal."

vi felt the air leave her lungs. it wasn’t just that you cared. it was that you had always seen something in her that she couldn’t see in herself. and now that she finally understood, now that the pieces were falling into place, you were gone.

she closed her eyes tightly, letting her head fall back against the wall. tears began to stream down her cheeks, hot and silent. she didn’t try to stop them.

"i’m such a coward."

that was the only conclusion she could come to. you had been there, enduring her worst, taking care of her when no one else would, and she had ignored it all. and when you had finally laid your feelings bare, when you had exposed the full weight of what it meant to love her, vi had responded with doubt, with silence, with words she now knew she should never have said.

"why are you acting like this is personal?"

because it had always been personal.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

vi turned the corner into the alley and saw you. you were sitting on the ground, arms wrapped around your knees, with your hair falling over your face, hiding your eyes. she knew you’d been crying. she knew because she recognized that posture, that way of curling up when the pain consumes you and you don’t know how to keep going.

vi took a deep breath, forcing herself to take a step toward you. then another. and another. her boots echoed softly against the damp ground of the alley, but you didn’t lift your head. not until she finally spoke, her voice low and tense:

“i’m here.”

those two words made you lift your head, though slowly, as if every muscle in your body weighed too much. your eyes, swollen and red, met vi’s, and she felt something inside her crack at the sight of all the pain she’d caused.

“why?” you asked, your voice broken but sharp enough to cut deeper than any shout.

vi swallowed hard, looking at the ground before forcing herself to meet your gaze again. her hands trembled at her sides as she tried to find the right words. but there weren’t any.

“i can’t leave you like this,” she admitted at last, her tone so low it was almost a whisper.

you laughed, but it was a bitter, joyless laugh. “you couldn’t leave me like this? that didn’t seem to matter when you let me spill everything i was feeling, and you didn’t do anything.”

vi pressed her lips together. she couldn’t defend herself from that because it was true. she had left you alone, not because she didn’t care, but because she didn’t know what to do with what she felt. because she was afraid.

“i didn’t know how to react,” she confessed, her voice still tense. she took another step toward you, though you didn’t move. “i don’t know how to handle this… how to handle you.”

your brows furrowed, your eyes shining with a mix of disbelief and anger. “and what does that even mean, vi? what the hell does that mean?”

vi took a deep breath, her hands trembling as she ran them through her hair, tugging at the short strands as if that would help her think.

“it means i care about you,” she finally said, and though her voice was low, every word came out with an intensity that seemed to fill the entire alley. “it means you matter to me more than i know how to handle.”

the weight of her words hung in the air between you, and vi lifted her gaze to yours, searching for some sign that it wasn’t too late. but there was no response on your face, only a mix of emotions she couldn’t decipher.

“if i really mattered to you, you wouldn’t have done this,” you said, and your words were like a direct blow to her chest.

vi clenched her fists, but she didn’t look away. she knew you were right. but that didn’t make it any easier to face.

“it’s not that simple,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to hold herself together. “not after what happened with caitlyn.”

the mention of her name made your expression harden, and vi noticed.

“what does she have to do with this?” you asked, though you knew the answer might not be what you wanted to hear.

vi closed her eyes for a moment, letting the weight of the truth hit her before forcing herself to speak. “cait… made me believe i could trust someone again. that i could be more than a broken fighter.”

your chest tightened at her words, but you didn’t interrupt.

“and then, when things got bad, she left. she hit me, insinuated i was a monster, and walked away,” she continued, her voice cracking slightly at the end. her eyes filled with something you hadn’t seen in her before: fear. pure, absolute fear. “it wasn’t just what she said or did. it was… that she made me think something i’d never believed was possible. and then she took it away.”

vi’s shoulders slumped as she exhaled, as if she’d been holding her breath for too long. “i don’t know if i can trust someone like that again. i don’t know if i can let myself feel that again.”

her words fell over you like a weight, but you didn’t let your expression change.

“then why are you here?” you asked, your voice filled with pain and defiance. “if you can’t trust anyone, why do you keep coming back to me?”

vi lifted her head quickly, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. she took another step toward you, this time lifting a trembling hand, though she didn’t touch you.

“because it’s different with you,” she said, and though her voice was quiet, there was something in her tone that made it sound louder than any shout. “because you saw me when no one else did. because when i wanted to destroy myself, you wouldn’t let me.”

vi lowered her hand slowly, her shoulders sagging as her voice softened even more. “but you scare me too. because with you, i can’t pretend. and i don’t know if i’m ready for that.”

the silence that followed was deafening. you could see the internal struggle in her gaze, the way she was caught between wanting to move forward and the fear that kept her anchored to the past.

finally, you let out a shaky sigh, turning your eyes away. “then i don’t know what you want from me, vi.”

vi pressed her lips together, her eyes filled with something that looked like a silent plea. “i want to try. even if i don’t know how.”

your chest ached as you listened to her, but you couldn’t just give in. not after what you’d seen, after what you’d felt hearing her call her “cupcake” as if nothing you had done for her mattered.

“this doesn’t erase what you did, vi,” you said, your voice low but firm, trembling under the weight of the emotions you had tried so hard to hold back. “it doesn’t change how i felt when i saw you call her that, like… like i didn’t mean anything to you.”

vi blinked, her face contorting into a pained expression. her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but you raised a hand, stopping her before she could start.

“you don’t get it, do you?” you continued, your words laced with restrained anger. “it’s not just the nickname. it’s what it represents. it’s how it makes me feel, like everything i did for you wasn’t enough.”

vi opened her mouth, but her voice broke before any words could come out. finally, she took a deep breath, forcing herself to respond. “i didn’t mean for you to take it that way. it wasn’t because you don’t matter to me.”

“and how am i not supposed to take it that way, vi?” you shot back, taking a step closer to her, letting the intensity of your words fill the space between you. “you always say you don’t know how to handle this, but it seems so easy with her.”

vi shook her head quickly, her eyes filled with something that looked like panic. “it’s not easy with caitlyn. it never was.”

the mention of her name made your teeth clench, but you forced yourself to let her continue.

“with her it’s… it’s different,” vi admitted, her words clumsy but honest. “cait was always… what i thought i needed. someone who made me feel like i could be more than what i am. but with you…”

she trailed off, her gaze dropping to the ground for a moment before meeting yours again.

“with you, i feel exposed. and that scares me because i don’t know if i’m made for something like this.”

you stood in silence, your breathing shaky as you processed her words. the anger burning in your chest still lingered, but there was something in her tone, in the way her hands trembled at her sides, that made your defenses start to crack.

“that doesn’t make it hurt any less, vi,” you finally murmured, your eyes shining with tears you refused to let fall. “but at least now i know why.”

vi nodded slowly, swallowing hard as if admitting all of this had drained every ounce of energy she had. she took another step toward you, her voice lowering even more.

“i want you to trust me. i know i don’t deserve it yet, but i want to try. i want this to mean something.”

for a moment, the weight of her words filled the space between you. it wasn’t a perfect promise. it wasn’t an immediate solution. but it was something.

you took a deep breath, looking away for a moment before locking your gaze back onto hers. “then show me, vi. because if you ever make me feel like i’m not enough again… i won’t stay.”

vi nodded again, more slowly this time, and though her eyes still held uncertainty, there was something new in them: determination.

you didn’t say anything else. you turned toward the alley’s exit, your footsteps echoing softly against the ground as you walked away. vi didn’t stop you this time, but she didn’t take her eyes off you until you disappeared into the darkness.

she stayed there, motionless, her chest tight and the words she wanted to say stuck in her throat. she knew that this time, words wouldn’t be enough. she knew she would have to show you that you could trust her.

for the first time in a long time, vi felt like she had something to fight for.

[lanabuckybarnes]

Would you write a plus size reader w either bucky or steve(or both) where they are her first real relationship and she gets scared that she doesn't deserve to be with either of them and so she tries to push them away so she doesn't get hurt but instead they show her why she is their person.... like tooth rotting fluff and the filthiest smut..... if that's okay if not no worries

| All Yours, Only Yours |

18+ Minors DNI

✧Pairing✧ Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Reader

✧Warnings✧ A lil angsty, Sharon being a big bully (like seriously you’re 50 and you’re bullying someone? ick), Name calling, Angry Buck, Crying, Bucky is a simp, Confessions, Marking, Dry humping, Oral (F), Fingering (F), Teeny bit of cum play, Dirty talk, Unprotected PinV, Praise, Petnames, My shitty writing — again very tame for me but i didnt want to go overboard. If there any more I’ve neglected to add please let me know.

✧Word Count✧ 4.3K

✧Author Note✧ I really hope you enjoy this and I've done your request justice, I honestly tried my best but idk…Anyways!!! Much love to everyone, please let me know what you think. Love ya xxx

“Still not answering?” Natasha asks from her spot in the cockpit, concern evident from the wrinkle between her brows.

“Nope” he spits his reply, reeling from the whole ordeal. He thrusts his phone into his jean pocket, sick to the back teeth of nothing but a black screen greeting him instead of your sweet little messages.

“Did you piss her off or something?” Sam tries to lighten the mood but is swiftly shut down, his hands rising in surrender at the killer glare the brunette shot his way.

“Calm down everyone, we’ll be home soon so we can figure this out” Steve, the voice of reason commands order within the small confines of the jet. He sits, a gloved hand rubbing over his friend's shoulder trying to reassure his muddled brain but to no avail.

Bucky is pissed. He’s pissed and he’s worried sick. A week he’s been gone for and he’s missing you like crazy. The only issue? You are ignoring him, straight up ghosting his brooding ass which is completely unlike you. Often on missions when Bucky clicks his phone on he’s greeted with a flurry of messages from you; photos of little birds you see on your walks, photos of alpine taken at odd angles and constant little messages that make his heart full and ready to continue his painstaking missions—none of it, just a notification from your favourite restaurant offering a discount to keep him happy.

As soon as this jet landed he was going to get to the bottom of what was going on and then he was going to cuddle you to death as punishment. Not that he’d let anyone else know that.

One Week Earlier…

Beep beep beep. Bucky’s alarm sounds at the ungodly hour of five am, his groan following. He didn't want to get out of this bed, he was too warm, his huge body wrapped around yours. Your movements spurred his own, your arm reaching over to switch off his alarm while he pushed himself into a sit, thoughts already on the mission afoot.

“Morning,” your raspy voice purrs, bringing his attention back to you. His eyes fall to your face; following the slope of your puffy cheeks up to your barely open eyes, your hues peeking through only enough to tease him. Putting his weight on his right arm he’s on top of you before you can blink, his head tucked into the crook of your neck, peppering tiny kisses along the warm skin.

“Morning princess,” he bites back his yawn, shifting so his hips slot in their spot between your plush thighs, loving the way they wrapped around his narrow waist just the way he loved. Practice truly did make perfect. His dark vibranium fingers drifted from your collarbone, over the swell of your breast until it found its favourite perch on your hips.

“So fucking pretty” he breathes, his pupils dilating to let more of you in — until you pushed him away.

“You gotta get ready Mr” you giggle, moving your foot so you could push him further away, ruining his plan B of pinning you down by your hips.

“Don’t remind me…”

His cold left hand hooks around your ankle, pushing at it until your knee hinged, bending up and out. A suspicious hardness presses against you, a wicked smile on your boyfriend’s face.

“I mean it Buck we can’t, Nat will be kicking that door down any minute” he groans at your words knowing that you are completely right. That lock had been replaced an embarrassing amount of times because of that exact situation. You hated rejecting him, knowing that he could easily put you back to sleep until midday if he wanted. After a small standoff between you both you warn him again, an arch in your brow and a growl behind his name.

“You’re such a little tease, you know that?”

You laugh, sitting up, watching him skulk around the room in nothing but his grey Calvin Kleins, “I haven’t done anything!”

“Sure you haven’t” he argues, moving over to you again, his metal fingers looping under your chin to tilt your head back to gaze up at him, “Looking so fucking sexy in the morning and I can’t fuck you stupid. That’s not teasing that’s damn near criminal.”

You groan, rolling your eyes at your pouty 106-year-old man. You inch closer to his mouth, a sickly sweet definitely not bratty smirk on your face. “Get your ass ready.”

“Fine…but only because you looked so fucking sexy ordering me around,”

“Bucky!” You shout after him, blush on your full cheeks. He only smirks over his shoulder, pushing his briefs to the floor at the entrance to the bathroom, giving you a full view of his posterior.

You get up too, knowing you had been awake too long to fall asleep again. You get ready with the shower as background noise, pulling on some workout clothes. Today you decided you’d try out the gym right here in the compound, you’d been to many different ones in the past; often polluted with the smell of days-old sweat and men reeking of testosterone, grunting and groaning at weights you could only dream of lifting.

An hour later, after waving Bucky off on his week-long mission you were in the gym.

“Hey” you smile as you pass Sharon, her blonde hair whipping as she ducks and weaves to dodger imaginary punches the bag throws out before throwing a couple of her own. She offers you a tight-lipped smile, her eyes straying from your face down your body. She takes note of your long top and shorts that settle around mid-thigh compared to her sports bra and tiny shorts — her flat stomach and sculpted legs on display.

God you wish you had just as much ventilation. Just as you go to place your earphones in your ears you hear a scoff coming from Sharon’s direction. You pay it no mind, setting the treadmill for a nice incline and pace, pressing the timer until it shone with the time you wanted.

The treadmill slowed for the cooldown. Your eyes moved from the display in front to glance over your shoulder, the gym was empty. You grab your bottle only to realise thanks to your distraction you'd finished off your water. You stop the treadmill and hop off, making a beeline for the kitchen. The walk to the kitchen from the gym wasn’t that long but with the feeling of your sweat culminating in places you didn’t want it to be it was almost torturous.

“I couldn’t believe it when I saw her,”

A gaggle of hushed laughs comes from the kitchen, stopping you. A familiar dread coils in your stomach, reminding you of when you were young, the children pointing and laughing — joking at your expense.

“she must been on that treadmill for about five minutes and she was all like huff huff” she laughs obnoxiously “Her face was like a big tomato, I almost died trying to keep myself from laughing” Sharon continues.

The group cackles again at your expense, almost doubling as Sharon makes the huffing noise again. You cling to your shirt, pulling it from sticking to your body. These women you thought were friends did just what everyone else did.

“She’s pathetic, I don’t know what Bucky sees in her” Your heart stops. That little devil on your jumps and cheers at the confirmation of what it has been telling you since the start of your relationship with Bucky. You were never enough.

“I can’t wait for him to dump her once he gets sick of her wide load.”

Tears fall on their own accord but you don't register them, too busy inside your head being suffocated by every doubt and self-conscious thought you ever had since you confessed your feelings for the super soldier. You didn't deserve Bucky and everyone thought that too.

Back at your room, freshly clean. You scrolled through your messages from Bucky. The little hearts next to his messages no longer felt genuine like he was only doing it merely to save your feelings from being hurt. You were nothing but a burden that he was forced to bear; it wouldn’t be long before like Sharon said, he got sick of the clinginess and the need for reassurance and broke up with you.

Well, you weren’t going to be a burden any longer. You wouldn’t let him break your heart first. You turned your phone off, tucking it into your bedside drawer.

—

“Bucky wait!” Sam calls from the quinjet but it goes ignored. Bucky’s face is twisted in annoyance as he takes wide, purposeful steps towards the tower doors. He was going to find you and you were going to tell him why the fuck you were ignoring him.

He ignores the shouts of his name as Nat, Steve and Sam follow him indoors, smashing the elevator button with his thumb and stepping inside. Once on your floor, he stormed like a charging bull to your room, slamming a gloved fist on your door in a poor excuse for a knock.

The loud knocking from the other end of the room had you jumping back in your seat, the slee overtaking you gone in an instant. Your heart lurched at the familiar face, worn from exhaustion and malice clear from the scrunching of his forehead and tick in his cheek muscle.

“Oh hello, where have you been?” Bucky snaps, glaring down at you as you use the door as a shield from his scrutinising eyes. Here it comes, the moment you’d prepared for all week. You don’t think you’ll go back to dating apps, too many weird me—

“You know how worried I was when you didn't answer me all week?”

Huh. “Huh?”

“‘Huh?’ Are you joking? You ghosted me, left me scared to death on a mission halfway across the globe and all you can say to me is huh!” His blue eyes glisten and you look at them closer. There was no anger there, only concern and fear culminating in swirls across his blue orbs, rearing its head in rage across Bucky’s face.

“Bucky I—” you try but you can’t find the words, each syllable sticks in your throat, balling up until it feels like you can no longer breathe. The week of bottled-up emotions spills forth at the sight of him — at the revelation that he was utterly terrified. Tears fall from your eyes before you know it, your lip wobbling as you keep trying to speak.

Bucky’s shoulders tense at the sight of tiny tears falling over your full cheeks, guilt replacing his earlier pain,

“Fuck c’mere baby” he pulls you close, bending at an almost uncomfortable angle just to hold you as close as humanly possible.

“I'm so sorry for being so annoyed but you have to see why I was so scared something had happened to you. You left me on read for an entire week and blanked my calls. That isn’t you, you know how scary that was for me?” He whispers so softly, backing you up to sit on your bed.

In his arms, surrounded by his warmth and scent the week you had fell from your mouth like alphabet soup, from the gym to Sharon to how hard it was to ignore your phone knowing that Bucky would’ve been calling you every single day but you did it to protect your own heart. Nothing was kept a secret.

“I’ll kill her,” he growls when you finish, muscles tightening even more around you.

“Buck.”

“Right…sorry, I won't kill her” He lied between his teeth, well sort of. He wouldn’t actually kill Sharon but he knew you'd be upset if he did anything to her which he was indeed planning to do but to save you any more pain for the evening, to keep that teeny tiny smile on your face he lied.

“What makes her think she has any fucking right to speak on other people’s appearance anyway?”

“She wasn't lying…” it came out in the tiniest little voice, maybe your way of silently hoping he didn't hear it and he wouldn’t have if it weren't for his super soldier ears.

Gripping onto your wrists Bucky flipped your world in an instant, the breath leaving your lungs as your back makes contact with the bed, your wrists caught on either side of your head.

“Are you lying to me doll?” He says, raising a brow at you.

“No…”

“You are! You're lying right to my face,” he argues, pressing your wrists further into the mattress below. Your eyes fall shut as his face inches closer to yours.

“Look at me princess,” he waits until you open both eyes again, looking up at him as if he strung the stars in the sky “There is not a single thing that I'd change about you and I mean that. I fell in love with you the way you are now, you aren't some bitch that gets off on making fun of others. I fell head over damn heels for you because you are you.”

His eyes sparkle with adoration, his hands running up and down your body softly. The juxtaposition of metal on one side and warmth on the other sends shivers up your spine.

“I love you,” he breathes, leaning down again till your lips graze his. A teasing smile pulled on the pink corners of his mouth, a similar glint in his eyes, “you know that right?”

“Yes,” you nod, pushing up to close the distance between your mouths but he pulls away.

“I don't think you do,”

“I do Buck I promise.”

“Well…” he began, the glint in his eyes dulling as want engulfed the colour, “let me make sure.”

Bucky takes his time. He has to knowing that you're feeling small. Slowly his lips slot with yours, ushering out sweet little sounds to replace the broken ones that still thrum fresh in his mind.

“I love you,” he says again, capturing your hitched gasp with his tongue as he pushes it past the seam of your mouth, the tip flicking against your own to entice it to mingle. Slowly but surely the tension drips from your shoulders, your arms moving from his grip to trail up over his rigid stomach and chest. They sink below the shoulder pads of his jacket, pushing it off his broad frame and onto the floor beside the bed. Your hands paw at the exposed skin on his arm, fingers squeezing, nails scraping over the corded muscle.

“All of yours…all of it.”

Each time the seal of your mouths broke you chase them, planting kisses teeming with nothing but raw desire onto kiss-bitten lips. The words that Sharon said are long gone from your mind now, replaced by the man in front of you. Everything you smell, taste, touch and see — it's all him.

The brunette slips off his glove; his warm and cold, metal hand grips your hips, pulling you up into his lap with a squeak.

“You feel that?” He grunts, moving from your mouth down your face to your neck. His lips suck and his teeth nibble, marking you, proving to anyone around that dare dispute his love for you again. With undeniable strength he grinds you down into a sizeable bulge poking from his tight jeans, he hisses at the contact, letting a hand fall to your ass with a small spank.

Your arousal seeps through your thin panties making them stick to your dainty folds; your clit buzzes at the delicious scratch the metal of his zip brings you — a gasp catching in your throat every time your neglected nub catches the pull tab.

As much as he worshiped the way you dry-humped his cock, soaking the front of his jeans. Bucky is desperate. After a week of no contact, not even a tiny emoji heart never mind a raunchy photo, he needs something — anything. And he's going to get it.

“Get on the bed” he demands, pushing at you ever so slightly. “Panties off.”

You do as you are told, fingers frantically hooking into the waistband of your underwear, rolling the material over your thick thighs until they hook around a single ankle.

“Spread those legs for me baby, lemme see that sweet little cunt.”

You hesitate for a second, your legs twitching to open but knees knocking again as you close them. Blown pupils snap onto your face his jaw clenched hard and his nostrils flared. Before you can react his calloused hands settle gently, luring you into a false sense of security.

They soothe down your thighs as his blue eyes study you. Inch by inch his dull nails tap over your beautifully wide thighs until he's back at your kneecaps. With a soft unassuming smile, bucky pushes your legs wide, a rush of oxygen leaving you as your sopping folds are exposed to the cool air of the room. He doesn't give you a chance to breathe before a warm hand smacks over your wet folds, your body jerks, an unabashed moan flying from your parted lips.

“Don't fucking deny me this” he growls, fire roaring in his eyes. “You ghosted me for a week, now you're gonna lie there all pretty and let me eat this sweet fucking cunt.”

You nod, biting your lip. At the first presence of him between your legs, his hot breath billowing over your labia, your eyes roll into the back of your skull. Over each fold, ridge and crevice his breath fans, a shiver rolling over your spine each time; without warning he lays his tongue flat and wide, licking a strip from hole to clit. His tongue disappears and he does it again, guttural sounds falling from him at your taste mixing with the sharp trills you let out.

“Sing for me baby, let me know how good I'm making that pretty pussy feel” He delves in like a man starved, devouring your cunt as though it were his first and last ever meal on earth. He'd die happily if it were.

You were a mess, a mess of pleading cries. Your legs shake against his powerful hold, your hands grip his unruly brunette locks. Letting his hands drop from your thighs he stops his slurping to lay a soft, sweet peck on your raw clit. He smiles up at you, his face glistening with your juices visible thanks to the city lights peeking in through your open windows. Your mind wandered, wondering if the people in the building across could see the way Bucky fucked his tongue into you, curling the long muscle up to press against that ridged spot on your upper walls — he hit it with ease every time.

Using your distraction as an advantage bucky moves a hand to join his mouth, sliding his fingers in alongside his tongue for a second before he pulls his tongue from you. He moves, looming over you with a massive shit-eating grin at how much he unravelled you. you should've been embarrassed at how wet his face was; slick ran from his stubbled upper lip over and below his chin. You had done that to him and he wore it proudly. His fingers push deeper and curl out, coaxing the coils in your stomach to snap.

“Come on baby I know you feel it” he speeds up, the sound of your messy pussy almost as loud as your harsh breaths and whimpers.

“Buckyyy” you squeal, gripping at anything you can.

“That's it, baby…you're squeezing around my fingers, are you gonna cum?”

You nod but it's not enough for your man. He dips, nipping at a pebbled nipple and that's all it takes for those tightly coiled ropes to pull taut and snap. A sound you've never heard from yourself erupts from your lungs, your fingers clutching at bucky, the sheets, anything. Stars peppered your vision, blocking out the smug image of your boyfriend, blood rushing in your ears muffling his words of praise.

“Come back to me baby, that's it, good girl. such a good girl” Bucky coos, his fingers slipping out to rub lazily at your clit. He keeps going until you jerk harshly in his hold.

“You did so well, such a good fucking girl cumming like that for me” He praises, kissing your cheek and then your mouth, a smirk pulling at his lips when you moan at your taste.

You flash him a big dopey smile in return, your eyes hazy and your plump little cheeks flushed. You look gorgeous; Bucky had seen many things in his long drawn-out life but nothing could ever compare to how you looked fucked out beneath him.

He would stay like this forever…if his cock wasn't aching for release.

He stands, fiddling with his belt and fly until it comes loose. He wastes no time in pushing them both past his round ass and onto the floor, his cock springing free. His shirt goes next, thrown somewhere in your small room letting you get the full experience of what Bucky had to offer you. Layers of corded muscle ripple beneath his silky but scarred skin, his chest peppered in tiny curly hairs that sink below his sternum and over his abs where they begin to thicken until they finish, well trimmed at the base of his thick, heavy cock.

His eyes never stray from your body as he takes himself in his hand, pumping once, twice, his thumb catching the precum leaking from his tip. He kneels back between your welcoming legs, rubbing his slick thumb over your lips. A hushed chuckle vibrates in his chest as you suck the thumb into your mouth, eagerly licking his taste from the digit.

“Such a dirty girl,” you giggle, pulling back until his thumb slips out of your mouth with a pop. “Do you think you can handle one more hm? Can you let me fuck that little hole?”

“yes Buck” you smile, your eyes falling shut as he kisses you again.

“good girl” he growls, moving your legs over his own before grabbing a pillow to squish under your hips. With one hand he pushes the head of his length through your mess, dipping into your hole before running back up over your clit. He does it a few times, occasionally slapping his cock against you, praising each tiny sound you let out.

“Please Buck” You toss your head back, grinding your hips up to meet nothing. At this rate, you were going to come to nothing more than his teasing.

“Please what?” Oh he's a piece of shit. He knows what you want because he wants it too. He waits for a beat, enjoying your huffs of frustration. “Tell me and I'll do it.”

With the last of your sanity, you cry out, “fuck me buck ple—ah”

You slap a hand over your mouth as he spears into you, stretching you like he does time and time again. It never gets any easier with a size like Bucky’s; his tip kissing your cervix with each thrust and your walls sing at the almost painful stretch.

Bucky’s thrusts are delightfully slow, letting you feel each drag and push, each rigid vein on his pulsing cock. There is no fucking involved, he's making love, making sure you know that he would spend eternity wrapped up in your body no matter what size you are. The deep coloured marks along your neck and between your thighs would attest to that.

“Fuck” he moans, mouth gaping. “Don't think ill last long princess” His vibranium fingers fall to your soft belly, skating over the smooth skin to your full hip.

He squeezes hard enough to leave marks, “fucking mine.”

His thrusts speed up, his head snapping back and eyes rolling. His balls bounce rhythmically against your ass, the bulbous head of his cock smashing into the end of your cunt where a dull ache forms — a warning of future hurt when you wake tomorrow. You don't care, not when his free hand dips between you both, pulling back the hood of your sensitive nub and flicking it over and over.

He feels the way you tighten around him, holding him in a vice grip, “hold it princess, just a little longer come on”

“I can't Bucky please” you whimper in response.

“Yes, you can baby—oh fuck I'm close” his weight falls atop yours, smothering you in him. His hips stutter, his balls pulling up towards his body.

“Cum now, soak my big fucking dick.”

The slamming of the headboard ceases when his thrusts slow to shallow grinding, his mouth swallows any sounds you let out.

“Such a good fucking girl for me—shit” he sighs, slips from you with a hiss.

“Buck—”

“Shh pretty girl you're alright” he holds you close for a while, holding you tight to his broad body. Tears fall from your cheeks but he swipes them away. You don't know why you ever doubted Bucky, he's the only constant in your life.

“I love you” He whispers as the blood rushing in your ears settles, running through your veins in exhaustion.

“I love you too”

“Don't you ever listen to those idiots again, because I will show you over and over what you mean to me” Bucky promises with a kiss on the crown of your head.

You smile, laying your own lazy kiss over your thumping heart. You like the sound of that.

I DO NOT give permission to have my work copied, translated or reposted. If you see my work anywhere else except this page I have not given consent for it to be used.

Comments, Reblogs, Likes and Asks are always appreciated, however if you like this fic please consider reblogging to help it reach a wider audience. They let me know that you are enjoying what I read and give me motivation to write more.

Thanks for reading~

[spideyanakin]

Omg requests for fiyero!

How about an angsty childhood best friends to strangers to lovers? Maybe growing up together, parting ways and then reuniting at shiz?

Thank you!

purple butterflies (fiyero. t)

synopsis ➾ gn! reader, purple butterflies and strawberry tarts; the memories of him who turned bittersweet with growing up. He replaced them with lovers and careless days. You replaced the memories with studying and focusing on your future, never thinking your new worlds would ever collide. [w.c 4k]

warnings ➾ reader is heartbroken and sassy, angst, fiyero being cute, me being shit at science and inventing my own rules bc let's face it this takes place in a magic land

authors note - omg stop I ADORE this request, I've had so much fun writing this <3 hope you like it. also i hope i didn't miss any accidental pronouns, i wanted to make this gn, lmk if i did!.

fiyero masterlist

main masterlist

and strawberry tarts (p.2)

Purple butterflies and strawberry tarts. If you were careful you could still taste the faint sourness of the fresh strawberries from the grounds of Kiamo Ko. The freshly made dough and the sugar sprinkled on top, caramelised just enough to balance it with soft bitterness.

But now it seemed the bitterness conquered it all. Turned the strawberries tasteless, the pie crust burnt to an overbearing crisp and the sugar overcooked, with it chased away the butterflies and turned the grass greener on the other side.

Kiamo Ko had been left empty by the prince a long time ago. When his turbulent personality started bubbling up to the surface, the king and queen started to grasp every straw they possibly could, clinging for any solution to mend their son’s behavior.

When the list of tutors fell short, by the twentieth one who ran out of the castle with freshly broken glasses and a dirt stained shirt, howling scandal as he pushed himself through the doors—it had been a final decision. Fiyero was to be sent to boarding school.

With him gone, emptiness was brought to Kiamo Ko, and his family decided to move away. To another castle, another place that would better suit their new needs.

Your family was thanked for their service. Your father retired from his duties in the royal guard, and stayed behind to tend your farm. Only your eldest brother had accompanied the royals in their new life.

It's not like you wanted to become strangers. You tried to grasp at your friendship. Sending him letter after letter. But when the letters went unanswered, you were left with a universe of unanswered feelings. Unanswered questions that would forever cloud your heart.

With that, the prince became a distant memory. Chasing fluorescent purple butterflies in the gardens of Kiamo Ko at night and eating his mother's strawberry tarts became faded dreams.

Your only source of information became gossips and your brother's occasional letter, reporting on Fiyero's short stays at the new castle.

You heard he had asked about you, once, maybe twice. But as years passed, and his interests fully shifted, so did yours.

~

Your vile was running out of ink. Your fingers were stained blue, from your palm to the very tips of your fingers--stains you would struggle removing.

Your scribbles were getting rougher. You needed to finish this, you wanted to finish this before the clock struck three. You were getting a headache, your blueish hand was cramping, and you were starting to stain the parchment.

But people were squeaking, whispering, and where the library once felt quiet and peaceful it now felt like a coffee shop on saturday afternoons, filled to the brim with gossipers.

You continued scribbling. Something about Munchkinland being saved from rebels. A leader, a general was involved in the lot, you couldn't remember his name, you wanted to remember his name. So you continued to fill the paper with nonsense until his name would come to your mind.

But you were running out of ink. The loops felt lighter, were lighter, you wouldn't have enough to finish. So you pressed th quill further on the page. You continued to write, a sentence than another, a word than another.

Snap.

Fuck. Your feather snapped in half.

"Dammit."

"You alright?" Elphaba broke your turbulent mind, glancing towards you.

That's when she noticed; the broken quill, the stained hands, the essay dirtied in front of you.

"Fine," you mumbled, throwing the quill aside. "I thought I could finish this today."

"It's not due til next week, you'll be fine."

"Hm," you wanted to rub your forehead, but quickly realised it wouldn't be a good idea.

Elphaba saw it, she fished for her handkerchief in her pocket and handed it to you.

You thanked her, cursing again when you realised the extent of the mess on your fingers.

"What's going on?" She asked when another sigh escaped your lips.

"Nothing," you mumbled. "I have a headache, I'm hungry, tired-"

"You're working too much."

"I need to pass this class. Since Mr. Dillamond left-"

"I know. We're all in the same situation here, don't worry about it."

"Right..." You continued wiping your fingers. She was right. The whole class had been going on a down spree since the new teacher arrived. He was harsh, focused on shallow things from history you shouldn't be studying. Where once it was about analyzing the impact history had on the lands of today, his class became about glorifying the heroes still alive and spreading propaganda.

It didn't help that the whole school seemed to be brewing with anticipation. Your gaze caught once again for the fourth time that day; three students whispering and giggling to each other about something. They were squeaking and blushing.

"What is going on?" You huffed, twisting the handkerchief.

"A prince arrived at school or something."

"Prince?" You raised an eyebrow. You wondered who it could possibly be. Most princes of Oz had already graduated university, and as far as you knew, Fiyero was on the other side of Oz studying at Killimand.

"Oh Oz," you cursed, one of your bracellets had been contaminated by the ink. You wanted to cry, or maybe it was just the nerves from the day building up. This was your favorite. It had too many memories attached, memories you didn’t want to forget just yet.

"What happened?"

"Bracelet's stained," you tried to clean it but it kept falling from your grip.

"Here, let me help," she grabbed your wrist and the handkerchief.

Indeed the small butterfly wing pendant had been stained by blue.

"Here," she smiled, wiping it clean. "All good." She dropped your hand and placed the fabric back in her pocket. "It's pretty," she noticed as you checked it. "Anyone has the other half?"

"How do you know it has another half?"

"It's half a butterfly," she suggested and you smiled at the observation.

"It is. I don't think anyone has the other half," you replied with a tight smile. You knew the other half had existed, but whether or not it still did, or was still worn by its owner was another question. You started to fold your essay and clean your writing supplies. "So, this prince?"

"Oh, yeah, everyone is already swooning over him. Stumbled across him, he didn't seem like the brightest."

"Does he have a name?"

"It's that Winkie prince, Fiyero something-"

"Fiyero Tigelaar?" You gulped, and your face must have fallen because Elphaba scrunched her eyebrows.

"You know him?"

"N-no," you quickly shook your head, "just heard of him... Everyone has-" you breathed, why your hands were getting clammy?

"I'm going to go, I'll see you tomorrow," you collected the last of your stuff. Shoving your books and quill in your bag faster than you realised.

Elphaba looked so confused, you almost felt bad, almost wanted to turn around to apologize, but your mind was already on overdrive. Your chest was starting to uncontrollably heave--you needed to get out, quickly.

Fiyero was here? At Shiz?

If you thought you were having a bad day, you didn't think it could get any worse. The one person that you thought you would never see again was now roaming the very halls of your University. You'd probably share a class or two with him if you were truly that unlucky.

Oz, what did you do to deserve this?

Would he even remember you? Would he even realize the heartache he had caused you?

Would he remember what he had told you that night under the stars when it was official he would be leaving to boarding school? How he had held your hand, squeezed it so tight so you would remember his touch.

Would he even remember chasing purple butterflies for the last time together that night. How impatient he had been, how he scared them, making them flutter away, only for the small creatures to circle the both of you.

How the butterflies, the moonlight, and the silent trees were the only other witnesses to him kissing you.

Your first kiss.

His first kiss.

Though it would be his first kiss of many; a start to a life of accumulated lovers, you reminded yourself as you clenched your books a little tighter.

You had just been his first victim.

That night, under the stars of Winkie country as fluorescent purple butterflies swarmed around you, as his hand slithered around your waist, the other brushing the apple of your cheek in a sealing touch. That night he had sealed the fate of your heart with his lips.

Because the next morning he had left you and Kiamo Ko behind with no regrets, only preparing himself for his new life ahead.

"And so this is the library," Glinda's voice mumbled over your ears. You were too focused on your boiling thoughts to even register her, or to notice the figure trailing behind her.

You royally bumped into them, full strength as you attempted to dart out of the library.

Whoever he was; he was strong. Years of training behind him as you felt his arm wrap around your shoulder in attempt to cushion the crash.

"Wow hey there, watch out," his voice was soft, charming, familiar almost- "Ranger!?" He squeaked in delight. Your mind swirled, no one had called you that since-

Fiyero.

You opened your eyes to meet his.

Indeed you were face to face with him, his arms still wrapped around you.

He was older, but then so were you. He didn't change a bit though, still as handsome, maybe even more charming than before. You found yourself staring up at the same blue eyes, the same grin you remembered and loved.

Your heart looped in your chest, and that's when you knew you had to get out of here, quickly.

But as he looked at you his eyes sparkled, and the brightest smile you had ever seen him wear raised upon his features, somehow your feet were stuck in place.

"Oh Oz! How have you been?" Fiyero did not hesitate to cage you in his arms again, and suddenly you couldn't breathe.

His hug was perfect. Just like you remembered. As if the years had never passed and you still fitted against one another like two pieces of a puzzle.

Two wings of the same butterfly.

You felt incapable of reciprocating the hug. He didn't feel the same, yet he felt exactly like you remembered. He smelled the same, jasmin, fresh roses and leather, almost intoxicating as the memories came crashing through again.

You wanted to cry. Right there in the middle of the Shiz library, as his arms were wrapped around you; you wanted to cry.

Suddenly you craved Cruck, your rabbit stuffed animal that you left behind under the soft covers of your childhood room. You wanted to be tucked into your pastel sheets by your mother. You wanted to fall asleep with a smile on your lips as you remembered the day's adventure. That sleep would take you as you dreamt of the roses of Kiamo Ko; because you knew you would wake up just to run to them again the next morning.

Because you knew that after your mother attempted to have you eat breakfast, you would run back to the castle just to find Fiyero waiting for you up in the tree by the gates.

You almost melted into the hug. Almost.

Because after the jasmin, the roses and the leather there had been heartbreak. The lost letters, the unanswered calls. The empty promises.

"I'm alright," you attempted, still crushed in his grip.

"You two know each other?" Galinda squeaked behind her books. Eye brows scrunching, of course she would be the one showing him around.

"Yeah!" Fiyero bounced on his heels, loosening his grip on you.

He was gazing at you as if you were a wonder of the world and you did not like it one bit.

Hand still on your shoulder, people were starting to gather around, curiosity getting the best of them. After all, you had suddenly become a competition in the conquering of his heart.

But the more eyes were on you, the tenser you felt--and Fiyero did not seem to care or even notice.

"Yeah! Her brother works for the royal guard, we grew up together! Oz! How have you been?" He repeated, and you blinked--was he truly this happy to see you?

You wanted to disappear into the books, melt into the shelves, and be one with the stories.

"I've been fine," it was colder, drier than you wished. You didn't want to speak to him that way, but you couldn't help yourself. "I have to go Fiyero."

He almost seemed disappointed. You almost felt bad.

"See you around?"

You didn't reply.

You left without even glancing back to him.

~

The clock was ticking painfully slow, and you watched as Mr. Willows grabbed yet again another bicker from the shelves by his side.

He placed it on his desk and stepped towards the small glass greenhouse. Five small bright neon blue mushrooms stood proudly atop a mound of dirt.

He delicately removed the glass top of the greenhouse and the mushrooms suddenly lost all their fluorescence, turning grey white. You carefully watched as he plucked one right out and dropped it into the bicker.

As he placed the glass jar back on top and the mushroom's colors shone brightly again, he grumbled in his low voice, "Now, do you know what causes their fluoresces?" He turned his glass-hidden eyes towards the twenty-six heads in front of him.

No answers.

You hesitated, but giggles stopped you. Giggles coming from the back left of the classroom, not far from the door.

In the quiet of the room, all eyes turned to them. Of course, they had bloomed from Fiyero's chest, and you eyed as he leaned back in his chair smirking, with a blushing Galinda by his side.

"Is there something funny Mr. Tigelaar?"

Fiyero seemed to be taken aback, but he brushed it off just as quickly, "no, please continue with what you were saying."

"Can you answer the question for me?"

He blinked.

"Could you repeat the question?"

"What causes the fluoresce of those mushrooms?"

"The fact that they're magic?" Fiyero poorly offered, and you were sure it had caused a laugh from a red-headed girl sitting across you.

Mr. Willows sighed, placing his glasses further up his nose.

"Anyone else?"

"It's caused by the chemical reaction of their molecules when it's exposed to dark lights. The moon is enough to light them in nature, but during the day, to see it you'd have to place it in special glass, like the one you have, Sir."

"Very good. At least someone is paying attention."

You missed the grin Fiyero was throwing you.

~

"Hey, Ranger!" His voice caught in your ears, tangling like honey and seeping through every parts of you.

You were tempted to escape, but somehow he had melted your feet to the ground, and all you could do was wait for him to catch up, "still love being the smarter one I see?" He offered, leaning to you with a sly grin.

What game was he playing?

"Fiyero, it was a simple answer, you should have known that."

"Will you come to the Oz dust tonight?"

"No. I've got to study."

"C'mon! It will give us a chance to catch up!"

"No," your reply was stern, and you could almost catch a glimpse of disappointment across his features; same as this morning in the library.

"Do it for me, please?" he pouted, big blue eyes sparkling again--and suddenly you were back in the gardens of Kiamo Ko, with a pleading boy prince, begging that you join on his mischief.

"I'll think about it," you sighed, tightening your grip on your books as you started bouncing on your heels to leave. Oz, you'd have to work on the effects his charm had on you.

You were over him.

You had been over him for years, or so you thought.

"You better be there," he pointed out.

"I'll think about it," you repeated, giving him a short smile before finally disappearing into a corridor.

~

"So what was that about? Your dramatic, I don't know Fiyero, but I clearly do?" Elphaba raised an eyebrow, looking up from her book.

"It's nothing," you huffed, focusing on your history book. You turned around on your bed, your back towards Elphaba in a silent plea to stop the questions.

"I'm calling it bullshit."

"I'm allowed my secrets," you mumbled against your pillow.

"No," she grinned. "Not with the way he was staring at you."

"Same way he stares at everyone."

"Galinda will beg to differ. She's been pestering me with questions about you all day!"

You heard shuffling from behind you, and glanced from the corner of your eye to see Elphaba closing her book and marching the few steps towards you.

"Then let her think. It will do her some good to use that brain of hers," you turned your focus back on your textbook--eyes squinting as you turned the page; only to be met with Winkie Country in bold black letters, with a drawing of the plains and cities below it.

"Ugh," you harshly closed the book, slapping it across the bed.

"Will you tell me at least?" You barely noticed as she sat by the foot of your bed.

"There's nothing much to say," your eyes met hers. "We grew up together, then we lost contact."

"And nothing else happened?"

"No," you lied.

"I refuse to believe that."

"That's what you will have to do, sorry," you sighed and stared at your ceiling lamp, a pretty purple crystal flower blooming from the ceiling.

"Right..." She paused in thought, you were almost curious as to what she would say next. "Well I don't, and I'll keep pestering you about it."

"It's almost curfew, you need to get back to your dorm," you mumbled, sitting up and grabbing your hair brush from your bedside table.

"Stop changing the subject," she warned. "Galinda's probably there getting ready with her two shadows anyway."

"Tweedle dee and Tweedle dumb," you laughed to yourself, starting to detangle your hair. "Are you going to the Oz dust with them?"

"No. You?"

You shook your head no, snuggling deeper into the cushions of your bed.

"I heard Fiyero asked you to come," she teased.

"You heard nothing," you pointed to her with the tip of your hair brush. "Now get out before I throw that book in your face," you accentuated your words by pushing your textbook toward her with your toes.

"Fine," she chuckled. "I'm warning you, I'll get the answers out of you somehow," and with those words, she disappeared through the doors of your dorm, leaving you alone with the shadows of your thoughts.

Your eyes went back to the lamp on your ceiling before fluttering closed. You sighed through your nose, heart squeezing in your chest.

Pictures of a dancing boy in a pastel green suit flashed before your closed eyes before you could stop them. The polished marble floors of the great hall as music flowed. Your father in a uniform, adorned by medals; a change to his usual knight's armor you rarely saw him out of. Your mother in her most beautiful dress by his side.

Fiyero dragging you through the dancing bodies, causing havoc once again. The Queen scolding him later that evening.

You almost expected to open your eyes to the beautiful adorned ceiling of Kiamo Ko's great hall, but when you did, you weren't met with the familiar stained glass. You weren't met with the family portraits of generations of Tigelaars.

You were met with that damned purple ceiling lamp.

Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to go...

Maybe you could get some answers out of him?

Maybe you could finally get some closure.

But could you handle the hypocrisy? Could you handle seeing him dancing with Galinda, just for him to look at you with puppy dog eyes the second she was out of his sight?

~

Your outfit felt tight against your body. Tighter than it usually did. The purple mesh pooled around you perfectly as you walked, trailing behind you gracefully with each step. For a golden second, you felt like you belonged here, walking down the steps of the Oz dust.

The music was loud, echoing through the cave in its gripping melody. People were cheering, singing lyrics you did not know, and it suddenly felt as if you were drowning, maybe you were. Caged under the ocean in a bubble of music, sweat, and fairy dust.

That's when you spotted him. He was dancing with a boy you shared mathematics with. Jory, a tall handsome blonde that had most students swooning before Fiyero had stepped a foot at Shiz.

You noticed Galinda was nowhere to be found, nor was Elphaba.

You breathed.

You could do this.

If your biggest fear was Galinda's judgment, and she wasn't even there, then why was your heart beating out your chest the more your feet took you down the stone steps?

You twisted the fabric of your sleeves as you darted towards the bar. You smiled at the waiter before ordering your drink, your rings clinking with your coins as you placed them on the marble counter. to pay.

And suddenly he was there. Like a shadow he appeared, attracted to you like a moth to a flame.

"You came," there was a smile in his voice you couldn't deny. It made you at a loss for words, awkwardly swallowing as you figured out what you should say.

"Where's your date?" You finally spoke, keeping your gaze focused on your hands on the counter.

"Left with her roommate."

"Hm,"

"I'm glad you're here," his voice was soft over the music, yet you could still hear it just as clearly.

You didn't reply, simply smiled before turning your attention to the drink the waiter slid to you.

You took a sip, bathing in the silence between you.

Fiyero's silence was loud, so loud your ears were ringing.

Before you could even register, his hand reached to yours. Pinky finger searching your own on the polished counter. You watched, unable to let your attention fly from his hand. The moment felt painfully slow, and too fast all at once.

Suddenly you saw it, the pull of your butterfly pendent.

You noticed his only after, the golden bracelet amidst the myriad of others; leather cuffs, silver, and gold chains. But the one you had placed upon his wrists years ago was still there, and as his hand crept closer, the two pendants collided like they were meant to.

The magnets merged and the purple butterfly was whole again.

Two wings of the same butterfly.

You gazed up to see him, just to find his eyes already on yours.

Neither of you spoke, scared to break the silence.

Your vision was getting blurry, your breath was becoming chopped. Now you really felt like you were drowning.

Drowning in a myriad of purple butterflies.

You were back in that forest. His eyes were the ones of a small boy again, standing amidst the gardens of his home. The jasmin, the roses and the leather were engulfing you whole, filling your lungs to the brim.

"Dance with me."

"We shouldn't-"

"Please?"

[writersmess]

DEATH WISH LOVE | EVAN BUCKLEY

gif credit

Pairing: Evan Buckley x fem!reader

Summary: Buck never thought he could love someone like that. Especially not someone with the same death wish love as him.

Warning: Anxiety crisis, near-death experience, hospital, crying, ansgt.

Word count: 2.5K

a/n: My God, I can't believe it's taken me over a year to get back. I missed this place so much. It's been an intense, crazy year. I finally got my dream job at the best hospital in Latin America. I'm so happy, but at the same time it's demanded everything of me, working long shifts almost every day, but its the price I have to pay. I hope you like this one, it was based on the song Death Wish Love by Benson Boone, which as soon as I heard it I immediately imagined something with our dear Buck. I confess I thought I'd do something angsty, but I don't think I have that capacity, he already suffers so much that I just wanted him to have a happy ending this time.

Masterlist

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You were the new firefighter in 118, and also new to the city. In order to follow your dreams, you left your hometown with everyone and everything you knew. You craved for bigger things, you wanted the big city, you wanted Los Angeles.

The team welcomed you with open arms, which was unusual to you. You weren’t used to this or neither known by your affectionate gestures, but apparently everything was an excuse for a hug at the station. It was a bit hard to get used to all this affection, especially when you came from a place where you were always by yourself.

That was one of the main reasons you became a firefighter, you have walked through fire every single day of your life, why not make it your profession?

You were a source of curiosity between the team, always so quiet and so resistant to everyone's affection. It was hard to win you over. Especially because you had a rather difficult personality, you were fearless at work, you weren't afraid to go into the fire to save lives, you did it without thinking twice.

To Bobby you were a cause of concern, and sometimes the reason why he was having trouble sleeping. He knew this personality very well. It was the same one he had struggled for years to learn to deal with, the one he had to fight with so many times, he was very familiar with this death wish love, it was the same as Buck’s.

The blue-eyed man on the other side, couldn't understand why he couldn't take his eyes off you. Ever since you arrived a few months ago, your image has been running through Buck’s mind. You've become a challenge for him. But not in a bad way, he wanted to get to know you, he wanted to understand you. But you didn't make things any easier for him, especially when today was the first time he'd seen you laugh.

"You're drooling" he snapped back to reality when he heard Eddie mocking next to him.

"Shut up" Buck said, turning his gaze back to you playing with his niece.

You had a beauty he couldn't explain, an angelic one. You had this steely gaze and looking at you felt like suicide. He would fall to his knees if you asked him to. How could someone so delicate also be so dangerous?

The way you were reluctant to follow Bobby's orders, you'd walk into the fire without a second thought. You would take risks without thinking about your own safety, just thinking about everyone else. He saw how hard you worked, he saw how mad Bobby got when he ordered the building to be evacuated and you were always the last one to leave. You were intriguing and he was fascinated.

It was so strange for you. Being in Maddie's living room, with everyone gathered together like a big family, laughing and telling funny stories. The team met once a week, with all the families together, the children running around the living room, the smell of food in the air, the voices, the laughter.

You accepted the invitation after a few months of refusing, and now you spent the week looking forward to the moment when you would be together again.

Sometimes when you got home from a meeting, you cried. You cried because you never had that, you never had anyone who cared about you. You were an unexpected pregnancy, your parents didn't planned you, they didn't want you and that was never a secret to anyone.

And that's why you were surprised when one day you arrived early at the station and Hen had a cake for you that you had once said reminded of what your grandmother used to bake.

Or when another one Eddie handed you a drawing that Chris made specifically for you. Of the two of you playing together.

Or when Maddie sent you, through Chim, the cookies you said you loved one day while you were having coffee together.

Or when Bobby invited you to have lunch with him and Athena on a Sunday ‘cause he knew you were going to do it alone.

Or when Buck gave you a book he'd heard you say was your favorite during a conversation.

*

It was mid-afternoon on a Sunday. Your hands were shaking, your heart pounding. The words your father had once spoken echoed in your mind. "You will never be loved". But you were at a table with 118's entire family, and you felt loved. Maddie told you about the gossip from her work. Karen hugged you from the side every time you passed by her. Hen included you in every conversation. Athena calmly answered all the questions you were curious about her work. So why did you feel like an imposter? Why was your father's voice echoing inside your head? Why were you on the verge of an anxiety attack?

"I'll be right back" you muttered to the girls, but you realized how shaky your voice sounded. You were pathetic.

You barely made it to the bathroom, your legs buckled and you sat down in the corner of the room. You could hardly breathe, it was hard to pull in the air. Tears streamed down your face. Your heart was racing. Your hands were shaking.

You heard your voice being called from outside. Damn. You couldn't calm down, your hand was on your chest as if it could make the pain go away.

"Hey, hey. I'm here. Calm down, I’ve got you" it was Buck.

His voice was just a whisper in your ear. You let a sob escape your lips. Pathetic. You felt his arms around you, until you were all wrapped up in his arms. Why was he doing that? Why did he care?

He stayed there until you stopped crying. You were still in his arms, and it was so warm, so safe. Sighs came from your lips, and you couldn't imagine what a mess Buck's head and heart were in. He wanted you in his arms, not just now.

"I'm sorry," you whispered and tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let you, so you stayed.

"You don't have to talk about what's going on in there, but the day you feel like you need a hug to cry into, you've got mine" your eyes filled with tears again. "And don't ever apologize for it"

*

The smiles on your lips were becoming constant. And it was Buck's favorite image. You were letting people through your armor, you were letting your guard down, and it felt good. You now baked pies and cakes for the station on your days off, recipes learned from the girls after a few long afternoons of chatting and coffee.

Your laughter was contagious, and the boys would always crack little jokes to get them out of you.

Your eyes were now looking out for a pair of blue ones, all the time, everywhere. Eyes that were always looking back at you. Your hands were always looking for an excuse to bump into Buck's, just to feel that shiver run down your spine every time. And he would find any reason to text you, until the excuses became routine. You woke up every day with a good morning message and went to bed with a good night one. The little touches now became big gestures, Buck loved to brush your hair out of your face and tuck them behind your ear. And you loved to run your hand over the birthmark above his eye. You loved when his warm lips traveled up your neck to your lips. You loved when his hands ran over your body always so slowly and so gently, bringing goosebumps wherever they went. You loved making love with him. How he worshiped your body, how much he worshiped you. The way he made you feel loved.

You had a hold on Buck, and you didn't even know it. He had become attached to you, attached to the idea of having you by his side. The nights with you were the ones he could truly rest in, the mornings where he woke up to your soft kisses on his face, were the ones he would keep forever in his mind.

But he could feel that you were still resisting his feelings, and he was terrified of losing you. Buck was in love with you. It took months for him to realize that, but he did it. He loved you.

But one thing has never changed. And as Buck followed the loud murmurs coming from Bobby’s office, where he knew you were at, he kept in mind the danger you were in at every call. He couldn't lose you.

"Hey, what happe-" he couldn't finish the sentence when he saw you walking out the door, since you brushed past him, bumping into his shoulder, without even looking him in the face.

Buck made his way to the room, where he saw his captain wiping his hands across his face, letting out an exhausted sigh.

"She'll end up dead if she keep acting like this, Buck"

"I know"

"After the last call, if she doesn't change her behavior, I'll be forced to suspend her."

"I know."

Buck couldn't lose you.

You couldn't talk to Buck yet, you were so nervous after your conversation with Bobby. You were trying your best, how could he tell you that you had a death wish love? You were saving lives, and it didn't matter if it cost you your own. You didn't care.

A new call ecoed through the station. It was something big. A fire in a shed. People were working at the time, so there were many likely victims. You were anxious, just as you were before any call, but you were ready for it. You were born ready.

"Be careful," Buck told you before you got off the truck and you nodded. You were always careful "I love you"

You turned surprised to Buck, you'd never said that to each other before. It disconcerted you.

"Buck, I-"

Before you could say anything, you heard Bobby calling you to give instructions and you had to run.

I love you.

The words echoed in your head as you entered the burning building. No one had ever said that to you. You didn't even know the weight those words carried.

"Sir, follow this path and the fireman will take you to the exit."

It was so hot. You'd already lost count of how many people you'd pulled out of the line of fire. Your head was heavy. It was getting hard to breathe.

"Evacuate the building now," you could hear Cap saying over the radio. Everyone agreed and gave their location. You were about to respond when you heard something.

It was a call for help.

You could have sworn it was a call for help.

"Captain, I'm in the east side, I hear someone screaming for help. I'm close, I can get them out"

"Negative, the building will collapse at any moment. Get out immediately"

Your vision was blurred.

I love you.

You couldn't go out and leave those people to die, so you went ahead. The way to the door was difficult, there was a lot of rubble, and when you opened it, you froze in place.

It was empty. The fire danced in front of you, mocking you. But the cries for help... you've never been so wrong before.

I love you.

“It’s empty” you murmured at the radio.

Bobby was shouting your name from the other end of the radio. You turned around, but it was so hard to breathe. You tried to find your way back, but everything was spinning. Buck was now calling your name.

I love you.

His words were running through your head. Your steps were now slow. The way out, you couldn't find the way out. You could hear the fire laughing at you. Stupid. Pathetic. You heard an explosion behind you, and it threw you off balance, bringing you to the ground. You'd been walking through fire all your life, and now it would finally take its place back. Your siren buzzed in your ears. That would be the end of you.

I love you too, Buck.

The moment Buck came out of the building and didn't see you outside, he tried to go back. But hands held him in place.

This couldn't be happening. No, no.

Bobby called your name on the radio and you didn't answer. It's empty. That was the last answer they got. You weren't answering. An explosion. On the east side, where you were.

Buck's knees gave way, and he went down. All eyes were on the exit of the building waiting for you, waiting for a miracle. But it never came.

Buck screamed, and he would scream until his lungs gave up.

Time seemed to stop. Buck's screams were the only noise to be heard. And another explosion. Tears rolled down trough some faces. No one could believe it. This couldn't be happening.

Buck couldn't lose you like this.

"We found her" some voice echoed over the radio.

Buck's heart could stop any second now.

But the building was collapsing.

He broke free from his friends and ran into the building, dodging all the fallen and burnt obstacles, and he saw you. You were in the arms of a fireman. He ran up to you and carried you out of the building. As soon as you stepped onto the sidewalk, the building collapsed. Buck held you in his arms with all his strength and ran, feeling the debris fly past you.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" was the first thing that came out of your lips when he put you on the stretcher and he shut you up, pressing his lips to yours.

Buck analyzed each of your wounds alongside Hen and Chim and you could see the tears streaming down Buck's face, the ones that were also streaming down your own.

You were still struggling to breathe, every inch of your body ached, and you felt on the verge of losing consciousness. Until you succumbed to the darkness that was calling your name.

*

You woke up a few hours later in hospital. Your hands were being squeezed and you could feel something wet running down over them. Tears.

Buck had his face in your hands, he had never felt so afraid before. And when he heard your voice calling him, it was as if he could finally breathe.

"I'm sorry, Buck, I-I don't know what happened-"

"I almost lost you today"

Your heart broke into a million pieces. You did this to him, your recklessness, your impulsive behavior. It was your fault.

"I'm sorry"

Tears were now streaming down your face and he moved closer, running his hands gently down your cheeks.

"I was terrified of losing you. I'd die if I do."

"I would never leave you"

"Promise?"

"I love you, Buck. And I'll love you to death"

"Please don't let it be soon"

You smiled. No one had ever loved you like that.

"It won't."

[f1fantasys]

I would like to request a Lando Balmain with 4.

They break up and meet again after some time at an event. They need to be polite with each other, but they cannot do it, and they start to say bad comments to each other until someone escorts them out. Outside they continue discussing, shouting, tears, and getting wet because it´s raining and while they are looking into each other eyes, one of them admitted that they are still in love with the other person.

Absolutely love this request!

Always

Balmain - he breaks up with you, then you meet again after some time, very angsty, some smut #4 - possessiveness

Warnings - filthy smut, minors DNI.

4.7K

As hurt as you were having your heart shatter into a million pieces when he broke up with you, you knew where he was coming from. It made sense.

How he did it? Did not make sense.

Your relationship was flourishing day by day. 3 years of intense love between the two of you.

Until Lando decided he needed to concentrate on his racing, no distractions. He was so close to winning the championship, and he needed to give it his all next year. Both your jobs were too demanding, and you couldn't follow him to every race. Put this all together and things started to shift - just an every growing distance between the two of you.

Missed texts, missed calls, missed dates, silly arguments over stupid things.

It was a few days before the end of the season. Lando sat you down and when you saw the look in his eyes, you knew what was coming. Before he even started talking, you begged him not to do. You loved him with every cell of your body, and to lose him would crumble you.

But he did it. You cried in his arms, praying he would take back his words and tell you he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

But he didn't. It was what he did then though, that hitched your breath.

''Come to Abu Dhabi, please. Just be there for me one last time'' ''Don't tell anyone about the breakup'' ''We can pretend to be good with each other for the weekend''

So, he breaks up with you, then asks if you're willing to fake date for a weekend? What an ass.

But I guess you were the bigger ass. Because you agreed.

On camera, Abu Dhabi was the perfect weekend for you both. Lando had won the championship. He hugged you multiple times. He kissed you like his life depended on it. To everyone else, you were THE couple that everyone wished to be.

Only with every hug, every kiss, every touch, your heart broke a little more, knowing that this was the end.

Fast forward six months and here you were.

Still trying to come to terms with not having Lando in your life anymore. After Abu Dhabi, the very next day in fact, you learned that Lando had blocked you on all socials - your number as well.

You spent hours and hours at Carmen's house, sobbing in her arms. Asking her where it all went so wrong. And although there was never really a nasty argument between you and Lando over the breakup, how it ended has left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You've spent the last six months trying to train your mind. You tried to hate him. Maybe that would make it easier. But how do you hate the man who gave you the best three years of your life? The man who told you he loved you multiple times a day? You just couldn't.

You still lived in Monaco, though you made sure to stay home or be out of the country whenever you knew Lando would be home between races. One thing he'd forgotten to do what take you off of his calendar, so you knew of his whereabouts.

Things were about to get awkward though, because you were to attend an event where Lando, and a lot of other drivers and wags (whom had been your shoulders to cry on) would be as well.

Normally you would have of course backed out of going, but it was for a charity that was close to your heart. And just because you'd be in the same room, it didn't mean you'd have to face each other. Right? Fuck, you hoped not.

It was a black tie event, so you went out of your way to buy a beautiful silk black gown that showed off your body beautifully. You'd even forgone underwear to let the dress sit just right.

You thought you'd be a nervous wreck all day but up until now, you were actually proud of yourself for holding your ground and being positive.

The universe had other plans for you though, because the first step you took into the beautiful hall had you bumping into someone.

Before you could even look up to apologize, your body froze in its place.

His voice, filled your ears.

''Fuck, sorry''

Just as you looked up, he was turning his body around to see who he'd bumped into.

Your eyes locked, and the whole world faded away for a split second. It was just you, and your Lando. Or so you thought. He wasn't yours, not anymore.

You allowed yourself to take in him for that second. He still looked so handsome, his piercing green eyes, dimples peaking through his cheeks, his slight stubble, his locks that you swore had a better hair care routine that you. He was just perfect in every sense.

You didn't miss how his eyes shamelessly roamed your body, before he cleared his throat, as if snapping himself out of it.

Lando opened his mouth but nothing came out. Your heart was beating out of your chest, memories flooding your mind. You wanted the ground to swallow you up right now, praying you don't break down in front of him.

Finally, he spoke up. ''Fancy seeing you here'' his tone not one you were used to being on the receiving end of.

''What's that supposed to mean'' you asked softly, not sure you wanted to know the answer.

He chuckled and you instinctively took a step back because this was not the same Lando.

''Just saying, i know you still check my calendar, and you've avoided every single place and event you've known I'll be at for 6 months now'' Always jetting out the country the second i land'' he said, tone harsh.

What the hell? you thought to yourself.

You could feel the tears gathering in your eyes, and thank the lord you saw Carmen spot you and make her way to you quickly. Before you could respond, she gave Lando a dirty look and pulled you away to your seats for the evening.

You didn't think that seeing Lando again would bring such intense feelings back. You tried to calm your breathing and beating heart as Carmen tried to distract you as best she good.

Eventually you settled down a bit and tried to allow yourself to somewhat enjoy the evening, although he was always lingering at the back of your mind. You honestly never would have imagined your relationship with one another to turn sour to the point where Lando would make sarcastic remarks to you, throw daggers at you.

After dinner, as Carmen went to the bathroom, you found yourself at the bar, chatting to random people and enjoying a few drinks when Carlos approached you.

You seen him a handful of times over the months, he was always a close friend and someone you could call at any hour of the night if you needed something. He'd known how broken you were over Lando, so he just came to check in on you and see if you were okay.

''I'm good Carlos, walking on sunshine'' you joked which earned you a jab on your side.

Your eyes caught Lando behind Carlos, he was chatting to a girl, touching her elbows everytime she leaned in to laugh at what he was saying.

You sort of dazed off into watching them interact, until you realized Carlos was still talking and when your brain caught up with what he was asking, you saw Lando's back stiffen up.

''Huh?'' you asked Carlos to repeat his question.

''Not to open up any old wounds, but you and Lando were so happy in Abu Dhabi. What went so wrong after that?'' he asked as your breath hitched in your throat.

Did he really not know? you thought.

''Uh..'' you started, taking a breath. ''You really don't know?''

Carlos gave you a blank face.

''So you're saying that as one of Lando's best friends, you don't know what went down?'' you asked again.

He shook his head and you chuckled, nothing caring if Lando could hear you.

''It was an act, Carlos. All of it. The whole weekend. He broke up with me the week before and asked me to still come to the race, pretend we were still together'' you said, almost whispering the last part, already feeling tears gathering.

Lando turned around at your words and stood next to Carlos, who's face was in shock.

''You could have said no to the race'' Lando snapped.

Both you and Carlos looked at him, his words not making sense.

''Yeah, i could have been an ass and walked out when your broke up with me. But we were together Lando, you ended our 3 years relationship and sincerely asked me, and I quote, 'to be there for YOU at the last race.' I wouldn't shut you down so easily'' you said, voice soft, not believing you were actually having this conversation here of all places.

''You're making like i begged you to be there. Forced you to be there'' he spat back.

''Lando, what are you even saying? You didn't force me to do anything. i wanted to be there for. To see you win the championship'' you said.

''Oh?'' he questioned. ''You wanted to be there for me?''

''Mate,'' Carlos started but was quickly cut off by Lando speaking again.

''If you wanted to be there then where the fuck have you been all these months y/n?'' he said, voice grown louder with each word, angrier with each word.

By now your lips were quivering. He wasn't making sense. And you didn't like this other side of him.

''Lando, calm down'' Carlos interjected.

''No, answer me, y/n'' Lando shouted, turning a few heads in your direction.

Just then the security came, asked you both to step outside or stop the scene.

All the air was knocked out of your lungs as Lando roughly grabbed your wrist and pulled you behind him, walking briskly to the door.

''Lando let go of me'' you tried as you both stepped into the cool Monaco air.

He obliged and turned to face you, eyes boring into yours with a type of anger he'd never shown you.

''What are you doing?'' you asked, the tears breaking free and streaming down your face as you tried to control your sobs.

''Why did everything change? Before...'' he asked.

''What do you mean why did everything change? You fucking changed everything. You wanted me out, so you shut me out day by day, and here you are, asking me why all that happened''

The few drinks you had were giving you confidence to continue.

''And about inside,'' you pointed to the door. ''Why have I been avoiding you? Because you fucking got rid of me, blocked me, everywhere, barely 24 hours after kissing me in front of every camera when you won'' you choked out, voice breaking further with each word spoken.

You were telling your truth, and to see his piercing gaze on you not softening even a little, you weren't sure this was the same person you knew.

A few seconds of silence passed, and with that a few trinkets of rain started to come down, though neither of you made an attempt to move.

After what felt like an eternity, Lando sighed, his eyes softening to the ones you were familiar with, the ones you love(d).

''Why would you care? Even if i blocked you, why would you care seeing me again all these months, after everything i did?'' he asked.

This time you let out a chuckle and a nod. ''Ýeah, why would i care, right?''

Then the tears returned.

''I care because you were my everything, Lando. Everything. I love you like my life depends on it. And then you let me go. And I had to learn to live without you. So yes, i did care, I prayed i wouldn't see you anywhere because I knew one look and all those building blocks would crumble down'' you said, holding onto to the railing to calm your shaking body.

''You..love me?'' he asked.

''Love? Loved? I don't know. Can you stop fiercely loving someone with just a switch from them?'' you asked back, not sure you wanted to know the answer.

''No'' he whispered, causing you to look at him again, seeing his eyes fill with unshed tears.

''What?'' you questioned in disbelief.

''I don't think im capable of not loving you'' he whispered, knocking the air out of your lungs.

''Lando'' you whispered back, in a warning for him or yourself, you weren't sure.

''Fuck'' he muttered, running a hand through his hair and turning around for a second, composing himself before he turned back to you.

You stood there, waiting, not knowing what was coming.

Lando's eyes found yours as he took a step forward and took your hands in his, the both of you trembling, though not surprised at the jolt of electricity through your bodies.

''I've been the biggest dick, but fuck Y/N, I love you. I still love you so much'' he said.

You stayed silent, stunned at his confession, not knowing whether to follow your head or your heart.

The rain starting coming down harder, and this time Lando cupped your cheeks. ''Please, baby,'' he said, leaning down to let his lips ghost over your cheek.

His scent filled your nose and you felt drunk on him already, his breath cooling your cheek had your knees weak.

Finally, you bought your hands up to his face and before you could second guess yourself, you kissed him.

Lando was quick to respond, quickly taking control of the kiss as he wasted no time in sliding his tongue into your mouth and biting down on your bottom lip, making you whimper as his hands roamed your body.

It was messy and desperate, the both of you starved of each other for too long.

You pulled back after a while, needing air as Lando looked at you with the biggest smile, though his eyes told a different story. They were dark, full of lust.

''Come home?'' he asked, innocently, breathlessly, almost shouting over the rain

''Please, Lan'' you said, wanting nothing more than going home with him.

He ran inside to get you coats as you ordered an uber back to his place, your stomach fluttering with anticipation and butterflies, your skin shivering with goosebumps from the cold rain, while you ignored the part of your brain that was telling you to slow down.

Lando came practically running back to you, wrapping your coat around your shoulders as he rubbed your arms up and down to try and warm you up.

He leaned down, eyes level with yours. ''Gonna warm you up yeah?'' he said, teasingly.

You felt your cheeks heat up at his intense gaze, all you did was bite your lip in response to him.

Finally, the uber came, Lando crawling in behind you as his arms snaked around you pulling you impossibly closer, practically on his lap.

His lips found your neck as he left wet kisses, biting down and suckling on your sweet spot causing you to let put a few quite whimpers, clenching your thighs together at the feeling of him growing hard beneath you.

Eventually, Lando's lips made their way up to yours. This time, he granted you access as your slid your tongue into his hot mouth and devoured him, not getting enough of his taste.

Speaking of taste, you couldn't actually wait to taste more of him, you thought your yourself.

Once you'd got back to Lando's, he made sure to leave a generous tip for the uber driver as you both shimmied out the car, and before you knew what was happening, Lando had picked you up and thrown you over his shoulders, getting distracted himself as his hands landed on your ass and gave it a few squeezes.

''Lan!'' you shrieked, spelling him out of it.

He smirked to himself and literally ran to the elevators and through his penthouse doors, roughly pressing you against them, returning his lips to yours for another heated make out session.

''Hmm, too many clothes'' he mumbled between kisses as your hands instinctively started undoing his shirt buttons, running your hands along his tones abs and torso.

By now he'd started pulling your dress up to your things, breaking the kiss to whimper when he realized you weren't wearing any panties.

''Gonna kill me y/n'' he said, trying not to sound desperate but failing miserably.

He let the straps of your dress fall off your shoulder, letting you stand bare in front of him, as he started kissing a trail down your chest as he exposed your breasts inch by inch.

Just as Lando licked his lips and was about to take a nipple into his mouth, he paused, looking up at you.

You breath hitched as his piercing green eyes had softened, a sincere look in them.

''We have so much to talk about, and i won't ever stop apologizing to you. I love you so much y/n, never letting you go'' he said with a low voice, almost like he was afraid you'd pull away.

You cupped his face, letting your thumb run across his cheeks, his lips.

''You're right, we do have a lot to talk about, and Lando i love you too, so much''

''We will, I promise'' he said, before you pushed him down on you again, to which he happily obliged.

You watched and let out a guttural moan as your nipple disappeared into Lando's mouth - being pulled on and sucked on harshly as he rolled your other between his fingers.

Your hands gripped onto his hair as he used his tongue to sooth the pain of the attack he just put on them, before repeating the sequence.

''Lando, please'' you begged, needing to feel more of him.

He pulled back, wiping his chin of his spit as he smirked at you. ''Please what?''

You stayed silent apart from a few pants escaping your mouth.

''What do you want, y/n?'' he asked, voice stern and turning you on even more.

You decided to tell him exactly what you want, catching him off guard.

''Your mouth on my cunt'' he said, smirking down at him.

Lando's hold on your thighs tightened as you heard him mutter a ''fucking hell'' while biting down on his lower lip.

You latched your hands back on to his hair and he spread your legs open wider, wasting no time in running his fingers through your slick folds.

''You're dripping baby, so wet'' he cooed, looking up at you.

''For me, yeah?'' he asked.

''All for you, Lan, please'' you pleaded again, trying to close your legs to rub them together though his strong hands held you in place.

Finally, he leaned forward. Running his tongue through your cunt as he spread your juices all over, making a right mess of your thighs and his face.

''Fuck, Lando, yes. Oh god'' you panted as he quickly founds your clit, sucking and pulling at it roughly wile at the same time sliding two fingers through your hole and starting a stead rhythm of thrusting them in and out.

Your eyes were shut, mouth letting out moans that were pornographic. You were so back.

Lando's tongue felt like heaven on your most sensitive parts, and it wasn't long until you felt the familiar warmth start to build up in your tummy.

''Lan, I'm close'' you managed to say between breaths, as he increased the pace of his fingers and bit down on your clit, and all it took was one look up from him to send you over the edge.

Your body shaking above him as you came all over his face, whimpers flying out of your mouth at the sensitivity.

''Fuck'' you heard him mutter to himself as he licked up all your cum before standing up, dribbling some of it into your mouth before kissing you.

Just that action alone already had heat pooling at your core again.

''Need you'' you whispered, tired, but eager for more.

''Gonna fucking ruin you baby'' he cooed, picking you up once again and carrying you to the bedroom.

As Lando placed you on the bed, you quickly got into your knees, already working on unzipping his trousers and pulling them down his legs.

He gathered your hair into a makeshift ponytail as you finally rid him of his boxers, and this time it was your turn to lick your lips.

You sat there, gawking at his dick. Thick, hard, throbbing, pre cum already running down the sides from his slit.

Lando cleared his throat, smirking down at you. ''Like what you see?'' he asked, pumping himself a few times and spreading the pre cum all over.

You perched your shoulder, over-confidence oozing out you.

''Always'' you replied, before replacing his hands with yours.

You ran you hands up and down his girth a few times, brushing your thumb over his slit causing Lando to buck forward and let out a grunt.

''Hmm. Eager'' you silently mumbled, knowing he could hear you.

But before he could react, you leaned forward and licked his tip a few times, before sucking on it, hard and deep.

'Fuck me, have I missed your dirty little mouth'' he cooed, breathless already, each pull on your hair getting tighter as you finally took more and more of him in your mouth.

You already had tears stinging the corners of your eyes as you deep throated Lando, spit already making a mess of you as he praised your name, over and over again, letting out obscene moans.

Your hands fondled with his balls, pumping whatever you couldn't fit in your mouth, and with each thrust in and out of your mouth, you could feel his throbs getting painfully uncontrollable, as were the moans leaving his mouth.

''Shit, I'm gonna cum y/n, where?'' he asked, though he should have known better.

You didn't slow your movements one bit, instead you increased your pace. and within seconds you could feel Lando emptying his load down the back of your throat, warm and salty, and so thick, as his legs shook, trying to control his breathing.

You took a breath when you pulled back, licking your lips as you looked up at Lando.

A thin sheet of sweat already coating his body, and you couldn't resist licking a path up his torso, all the way to his neck and eventually to his lips.

''Gonna let me fuck you, baby?'' he asked, knowing y=what you answer would be.

Your brain of course short-circuited at his words. ''Uh huh'' was all you managed to say before he wash pushing you to lie down, his body hovering above yours.

You looked down to see Lando slide his hand up and down his shaft, spreading his cum and your spit to lube him up.

He slid his dick through your embarrassingly wet folds, while whispering filthy words into your ear -

''Missed this pretty pussy of yours'' ''Gonna fuck you so hard you're gonna see stars'' ''Gonna claim you as mine, again'' ''Gonna make you my whore, again, yeah?''

''Fuck Lando please'' you begged as he smirked at you.

Finally, he let his tip find your hole, and you pushed inside with one hard thrust, the both of you moaning at the feeling of being connected like this after so long.

Lando was bigger than average, and you always needed time to adjust to his size, so he stayed still for a few moments, allowing your body to accept the intrusion.

He looked into your eyes, sincere and full of love, silently asking if you were ok.

You nodded your head, though you were overcome with a mixture of feelings - relief, love, desperation?

As he pulled out again, he leaned lower down, his face hovering just above yours. You could feel his breath fan your face as he pulled out completely before slamming back into you, finally connecting your lips again as he started a quick pace of fucking in and out of you.

Your nails dug deep into his biceps as you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist.

The noises leaving your mouth were lewd, equally as filthy as Lando's grunts.

''Fuck, y/n, how are you so tight right now baby?'' he cooed, moaning at how your walls were clenching around him, painfully so.

You were too fucked out to talk, so you let out a whimper and he chuckled to himself.

''Been a while'' you managed to mumble out, quickly letting another squeal escape your body.

''How long?'' he asked, his movements slowing.

You gave him a look. A look that told him just how long it been.

Then, his movements stopped completely. ''No'' he whispered.

''Yes'' you pressed, trying to move your own body though he held you down.

''What?'' you questioned, cheeks flushed.

''I was the last man to fuck you?''

''I mean, I've done stuff on my own'' you pressed.

''Fuck me'' he murmured before picking up his pace again, leaning back to place your legs on his shoulders.

The new position had Lando hitting even harder into your cunt, brushing against your G-spot over and over again.

And before you could even comprehend what was happening, you were gushing your juices all over his cock, your orgasm having your body shake underneath him while you let out yet more sounds of bliss from your mouth.

You could hear Lando talking to himself as you came. Something about how hot you were.

He pulled out of you and you watched as he let his spit drip down from his mouth down to your pussy, before he manhandled your body to flip over. Now you were on all fours, and with no warning he slammed himself back into you, clearly chasing his own orgasm now as you held onto the headboard for dear life.

''Fuck Lan, baby'' you cooed, already feeling sensitive but not getting enough of him at the same time.

''Harder, please, fuck me harder baby'' you begged, breath hitching when he snaked his hand around your body and settled on your throat, giving it a few light squeezes, while his other hand found your clit and pulled at your clit.

In no time your body was shuddering again. You came hard, and Lando looked down to see your cum leaking out of your body and coating his dick with each thrust.

''Fuck, gonna end me'' you heard him say behind you as you could barely keep your body up.

He pulled out of you again and flipped your body over, pulling you to the edge of the bed before pounded his cock into you again, holding your ankles together and squeezing them tight.

''Missed fucking you so bad baby, gonna let me cum in you?'' he asked. You could feel his movements get clumsier and sloppier with each thrust, and you wanted nothing more than to feel him release inside of you.

''Please Lando, cum in me, fuck'' you said between grunts, already feeling another orgasm about to flutter through your body.

Lando leaned down, taking your nipple into his mouth which sent your straight over the edge, moaning so loudly that the neighbors could probably hear you but you didn't care one bit.

And as soon as Lando felt you coat him again, it was enough to send him spiraling too. Emptying his thick milky load deep inside you cunt, all out shouting your name out between his own grunts.

As Lando slowed his movements, he slumped down onto your body as you instinctively wrapped your arms around him, holding him as close as possible.

Your bodies were a mess of sweat, cum, juices, spit, hot and sticky and both your breaths fanned each other,

Staying silent you played with the curls on Lando's head, drawing lazy patterns on his back as he peppered your neck with soft kisses.

You could feel him softening inside you, but neither of you made a motion to move.

Lando eventually lifted his head, letting his beautiful eyes roam your face and his fingers placed feather light touches on your cheeks.

''I love you so much Y/N, and I'll make sure you know that every single day'' he said, kissing you softly.

''I love you too Lan. Always''

[totallynotmina]

SAD BEAUTIFUL TRAGIC.

❝ kiss me, try to fix it. could you just try to listen? ❞

info. re6 leon 𝔁 fem reader. i wanna say reader is like helena's age maybe? it doesn't really matter. established relationship. very angsty with a bittersweet ending. leon's a mess ok but he swears he loves you. mentions of alcohol consumption/alcoholism. sfw, spare for a handful of somber, desperate kisses.

notes. i don't listen to taylor like i did when i was thirteen but this song is so ugh. reblogs & comments are always appreciated. <3

wc. 3.9k | ao3 link

You’d tried to fix him, as if stitching together the frayed edges of his soul could silence the storm inside him. But every attempt only left you more hollow, more desperate. His misery seeped into your home like an uninvited guest, a shadow that devoured the light, eroding the fragile moments you used to call happiness. Leon had become a ghost of the man you’d fallen for—present in body but distant, unreachable, and haunting in his silence.

The walls between you grew thicker with every passing day. Words, once tender and easy, had become brittle and sharp. No matter how far you reached, his touch always seemed just out of grasp, his warmth slipping further from your fingertips.

Your mother always said: never give more love than you receive. But she’d never prepared you for how impossible that would feel when the person you loved most was unraveling before your eyes. The weight of it all dragged you to new lows, a kind of emotional exhaustion that made your chest ache and your mind wonder when the dam would finally break—when you’d either stop loving him or lose yourself entirely.

The rain pattered insistently against the windows, the occasional rumble of thunder shaking the silence. When the front door clicked open, your heart jolted despite yourself. His heavy footsteps echoed in the stillness, as familiar as they were foreboding. You tried to focus on the book in your hands, but the words blurred, forgotten the second they hit your mind.

You didn’t need to look up to know. The way the air shifted, the subtle tension of his presence—it was Leon. You could already feel it, the simmering frustration he carried like a second skin.

Figures.

His keys clattered onto the console table, a metallic sound that cut through the quiet like an accusation. His bag followed with a dull thud, then the sigh—low, heavy, resigned. You looked up in time to catch the way his hair clung to his rain-soaked face, his boots kicked off haphazardly by the door.

For a fleeting moment, his eyes met yours, and you thought—hoped—he might smile. But he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. He couldn't even be bothered to spare you, his sweet girlfriend, a single glance.

“You’re home,” you murmured, stepping cautiously closer, your voice barely louder than the rain.

Leon hesitated, his lips parting as if to speak, but no sound came. The silence was a knife, sharp and cold, carving through the fragile hope you hadn’t yet managed to smother.

He flinched when you reached for his arm. That hurt most of all.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, his voice rough and distant, as if it was a chore.

“You didn’t,” you replied softly. “I couldn’t sleep. Not until I knew you were okay.”

His jaw tightened imperceptibly, baby blue eyes darting away in shame. Leon didn't want you to see how tired he looked, how the weight of his missions—or maybe the weight of everything—had stretched him thin.

"Is everything—"

"I'm fine." The words came too quickly, too curt. They were meant to end the conversation, but all they did was light a fresh spark of frustration in your chest. He brushed past you, his worn leather jacket hitting the floor with a heavy thud.

You picked it up with a quiet sigh, hanging it on the coat rack as if that small act of care might bridge the growing chasm between you. "You don't look fine," you said, keeping your tone gentle, almost cautious. Talking to your boyfriend shouldn't feel like tip-toeing around glass. Was it so wrong to be concerned about the man you loved so hopelessly?

Leon didn't answer. He collapsed onto the edge of couch, his elbows on his knees, calloused hands running through his semi-damp hair. His silence, albeit suffocating, spoke louder than words—another wall, another barrier he so intricately placed between the two of you.

"Leon," you tried again, siting beside him, voice trembling with the heavy load of everything you wanted to say. Trying to get a single, meaningful sentence out of Leon these days felt like pulling teeth. "Please, just talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about." His tone was clipped, but underneath the surface, you heard the slight crack, the exhaustion bleeding through the cracks. You could see it in the way Leon's eyes were half-lidded, the way he pinched the bridge of his nose, his fingers digging into his eyelids. The exasperated sigh he let out was the cherry on top.

You replied softly, equally as exhausted, "I'm not an idiot."

Finally, Leon snapped, like a rubber band pulled taut, "Why do you always have to push?" His tone was sharp enough to make you flinch—and you did. Regret flickered in his eyes almost instantly, but it wasn't enough to stop the sting. The slap had already been left on your poor cheek.

Why do you always have to push? His words repeat over and over again in your mind, like a broken record. 

That wasn't fair, you always gave Leon the space he deserved after his long, taxing missions, but tonight you were struggling to stay afloat. It wasn't fair to you, constantly playing nice even when he showed zero signs of changing any time soon. He had to realize that this wouldn't slide, not anymore.

And as much as it troubled your lovesick heart, if Leon wasn't willing to let you in, then he wasn't ready for a relationship. A healthy one, at least.

"Because I love you!" you cried, the words bursting out before you could stop them, raw and desperate. "Because I'm here, Leon, and I'm fucking trying, but you just won't let me in, no matter how hard I try. You just—" You stopped, swallowing thickly, trying to steady your cracking voice. "Y-You just keep shutting me out like I'm some stranger you couldn't give a damn about."

His shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him just as quickly as it had been triggered. Leon looked at you then, really looked, and for a moment, you thought he might finally say what you needed—no, deserved—to hear. But instead, he shook his head, sullen gaze falling to the carpeted floor.

"You don't get it." he said, barely above a whisper. "You couldn't."

Honestly, you'd prefer if Leon had kept his mouth shut. Not a single word of reassurance, or an I love you too, baby. The sickening, heavy weight of his cruel sentiment settled deep in your bones, nearly rattling you in place.

"That's not fair," you bit down on your bottom lip, a poor attempt at keeping your composure. "Maybe I don't understand everything you've been through, but I'm here for you because I love you," pathetic, so pathetic, "and I want to help. Why won't you let me? Why do you insist on wallowing in your own misery?"

Leon stood abruptly, his movements sharp, restless. "Because it's not that simple." Just the way he said that made you feel stupid. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Every time I leave, I don't know if I'll come back," he stared directly at you, burning holes into your own eyes, "And when I do, I'm not the same. I can't give you what you want. I don't know how."

Tears dewed your lash line, "Then learn," you pleaded, standing up and grabbing ahold of his hand. "If you love me, if you really care...then try. That's all I want." If only he knew how much it killed you to watch him fall apart while he kept you at an arm's length.

With a sharp sigh, he scowled, "I am trying," his tone was terse, cold. "Can't you see that? Can't you see how hard it is for me to come home and pretend everything's okay when it's really not?" Leon scoffed in disbelief. Fucking fantastic. After a barely surviving a demanding mission that sucked the soul out of him, now he was arguing with his girlfriend that didn't have the slightest idea of the things he witnessed.

The look of pure anguish on your pretty face tugged at Leon's heartstrings. The little pout, most of all. Poor you looked so shaken up, unable to utter a single word in response. "You deserve someone who can give you something better than this, baby." He freed his hand from your grasp, and brought it up to your cheek, his thumb stroking over the soft skin. You leaned into his touch instinctively.

But you still relented, "You don't get to decide that for me, Leon. You don't get to push me away because you think it's easier." Your hand clasped over his, moving it away from your cheek and back down to his side. His lips part.

“Is this about her?” you then asked, the bitterness oozing into your gentle tone before you could stop it.

As if his night couldn't get any worse...He knew exactly who you were talking about, and it made his blood boil.

Leon blinked, his brows furrowing. "What?"

Feigning ignorance. Classic. An insult to your intelligence, really.

“Ada.” You hated the salty way the name tasted on your tongue. “Is that why you’re like this? Because she’s still in your head? Or because you think I’ll never measure up to her?” 

You didn’t need Leon to answer that; the thought alone was enough to unravel you. Ada was everything you weren’t—dangerous, intoxicating, unattainable. She moved through the world like she owned it, all sharp smiles and quiet confidence, the kind of woman who left destruction in her wake but made you thank her for it anyway.

She didn’t ask for love; she demanded it, consumed it, leaving no room for doubt or hesitation. How could you, with your soft edges and wide-open heart, ever hope to compare? You weren’t a storm—just the aftermath, picking up the pieces she’d shattered. If anything, you felt like some naïve, wide-eyed child who had no perception of the real world—you could never hold a candle to her.

Leon's face twisted, a flicker of anger lighting his tired eyes. "Don't even go there," he seethed, "This has nothing to do with her. This is about me, and my problems." Funny how he'd gotten so defensive all of a sudden.

"Isn't it, though?" you challenged, matching his tone. "Because it feels like I've been fighting ghosts since the moment we met. I don't— I don't even know if you're really here with me, or if part of you is still chasing after her."

You got him there. "That's not fair," Leon said, his voice low but icy. He wasn't outright denying anything, much to your dismay. Nausea churned in your stomach at the thought him truly still loving her. The fact that you couldn't even blame him either made it all the more painful.

"Fair?" you echoed, frustration coursing hotly through your veins. "No, you know what isn't fair, Leon? Loving someone who's too scared to let me in. Someone who would rather run far, far away from me than let their guard down." It was getting harder and harder to suppress your tears, and Leon noticed.

God, Leon felt so sick. How the fuck was he supposed to fix this now?

Before he got the chance to say something in response—as if he had anything to say—you continued your siege, "You don't get to keep doing this. You don't get to keep pushing me away and shutting me out and then expecting me to stay with open arms." And legs.

His lips parted, but whatever words he had to say succumbed to their death, strangling his throat, before they could even reach you. A single tear rolled down your cheek, finally slipping free.

"I can't do this right now." you whimpered, shaking your head in disbelief and backing away from him.

"Wait—" But you were already retreating towards your shared bedroom, the door clicking shut behind you, quiet but final. Leon stood frozen in the middle of the dimly lit living room, staring at the empty space where you had been pouring your heart just moments ago.

And you were gone. Out of sight, but the sound of your sobs and cries echoed throughout the small apartment.

Leon ran a shaky hand through his hair, letting out a shuddering breath. He felt deflated, even more drained and tired than he initially had when he first stepped through the front door. The storm outside raged on, thunder rumbling in the distance, but the silence that enveloped the place felt heavier. Suffocating.

His gaze drifted towards the kitchen, eyeing a specific cabinet. Leon knew he shouldn't—knew you hated it when he turned to the bottle instead of you—but the ache in his chest was unbearable.

He needed something, anything, to dull the edges of his agonizing guilt.

His hands still trembled as he poured a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the faint glow of the lamp. Leon stared at it for a long moment, trying to find the strength to resist—and he almost did, almost poured the poison down the drain.

But then, like always, he brought the glass up to his lips, and took a slow, deliberate sip, swallowing it down neat. The burn was familiar, grounding, but it did little to quell the thoughts racing through his mind. He'd never felt so pathetic, so miserable in his entire life.

You deserved better than this. Better than him.

"I've been fighting ghosts since the moment we met."

You were right. Damn it, you were right. Leon had been so caught up in his own head, caught in a quicksand of despair, that he didn't even realize he was doing exactly what he feared most—dragging you into his own mess. He was tearing you apart at the seams, stitch by stitch, without even realizing it.

That wasn't even the half of it, though. Ada. He hated that her name had come up, hated that she still lingered like a dark, looming shadow, haunting the spaces between you with a coy smile on her red lips. But the thing is, you weren't her. You weren't some fleeting, elusive dream. You were real, here, and you loved him despite all the reasons he thought you shouldn't.

The drink wasn't helping. If anything, it only heightened the feelings of remorse. With a frustrated sigh, Leon set the empty glass down with a thud, and scrubbed a calloused hand over his face. He decided doing some paperwork might do a better job at keeping his mind off things.

Fast forward an hour, and it in fact, had not helped him. Not even in the slightest. He groaned, slumping over his desk and burying his face in his hands, an air of weariness surrounding him like a thick, stormy cloud. Leon sat in the quiet, the weight of his own thoughts pressing down on him until he couldn't take it anymore. He stood up from his swivel chair, and head straight over to the sweetest girl he knew.

His steps were slow and prudent, as if each step towards the bedroom door was a battle in itself, a march to the guillotine. Leon hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorknob, before swallowing his pride and finally knocking softly.

"...It's me, baby." Who else would it be? He mentally chastised himself for sounding so pitiful. "Can I come in?"

There was a long beat of silence from your end. Leon almost thought you might not answer. He wouldn't be mad if you didn't. But then came your precious voice, muffled and tired. "The door's not locked."

Cautiously, Leon pushed it open, his heart was pounding in the confines of his chest—like he'd drunk an entire pot of coffee—as he stepped inside the bedroom. You were sitting on the floor cross-legged, back against the foot of your bed. Your arms were wrapped around your body, as if you were holding yourself together, afraid of collapsing like a house of cards caught in a gust of wind.

Christ, the sight nearly tore Leon apart; he couldn't even begin to imagine how you were feeling.

"Hey, sweet thing," he said softly, unsure of where to begin. He strode towards you, kneeling down to your level, and brought a hand up to stroke your tear-stained cheek. You grimaced. "I...I wanted to talk. Apologize."

You, however, didn't say anything in response, didn't lean into his touch like you always did. You even refused to meet his gaze, unsurprisingly. It hurt Leon nonetheless, but at least you weren't frantically kicking him out. He took that as permission to continue.

"I'm sorry," his voice was thick with remorse and shame, "For what I said earlier. For...everything, really. I didn't mean any of it."

"You didn't mean it, or you didn't mean to say it out loud." Ouch.

Leon winced, the words hitting him harder than he expected, like a bitch slap right across the face. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he pleaded, "Jesus, I could never. I was—" he stopped himself, running a hand through his sandy blonde hair. "I've been an ass. Taking all my shit out on you when you've done nothing but try to help me."

Finally, your bloodshot eyes meet his, sharp but wounded. "You think an apology fixes this? Think it erases the way you've been shutting me out, making me feel like I'm not enough for you?" you hissed bitterly, swatting his hand away from your face like an obnoxious mosquito. Leon swallowed thickly, backing up a bit.

"No, of course not," he shook his head. "I know it doesn't. I just...I just don't know how to do this."

"Do what?" you asked. "Let someone love you?"

"Yeah," Leon admitted, feeling like an open wound. "That. Letting someone in, it...it scares me, baby. I can't help it."

You stared at him for a long moment. He could see the war in your eyes—the hurt battling against the love you still hopelessly felt for him. "I don't need you to be perfect, Leon. I just need you to try. To meet me halfway." It was the least he could, wasn't it?

"I want to. I will. I just...I need you to know that I love you, even when I'm too much of a coward to show it. I love you. And I'm sorry for making you feel like that isn't true."

For a fraction of a second, Leon thought he'd won you over, mended your shattered heart, and that things would go back to normal, like when you first started seeing each other. However, that hope crumbled the moment you didn't kiss him back, his chapped lips lingering awkwardly over yours. He pulled away in shame.

"No, Leon." You wiped at your eyes, frustrated by the tears you couldn't hold back, streaming hotly down your cheeks. "You don't get to say you're sorry and just expect me to forget how much this has been hurting me." The lovelorn, sick part of you just wanted to accept his semi-sincere apology and move on with your life, but the more self-respecting half had overpowered that desire.

"You kiss me, try to fix it. But you never listen." you swallowed hard, taking a moment to gather your restless thoughts. "Don't tell me you're scared, or that you're broken, or whatever excuse you think I'm going to forgive this time. Because I know you're hurting, Leon. I know you've been through hell. But I'm here," your voice cracked, embarrassment crawling up your neck, "I always have been."

"Just please...stop making me feel so fucking stupid for staying. Like I'm wasting my time loving someone who doesn't even want to be loved."

Leon didn't even know what to say in response to that. His mouth dried uncomfortably, paralyzed by the impact of your desperate words. Again, like always, you were right. He didn't have a single thing to defend himself, because he really was in the wrong, trapped in a mire of hopelessness. It was oozing its dirty self into his relationship, tainting the one good thing he had in his godforsaken life.

So, he could only whisper, "You're right." His arms wrapped around your frame, caging you in effectively. You didn't protest against his embrace, making the most of the warmth and comfort it spread through your frigid bones. "I am so, so sorry," he mumbled, his hand cradling the back of your head, holding you close to his chest.

"I need you, sweetheart, more than I've needed anyone. You're the light of my fucking life, I just...I don't know how to be the man you deserve." Leon pressed desperate, frantic kisses against your forehead, then to your cheeks, tasting your salty tears on his lips.

"But I'll try, for you. I swear to God, I'll try." The crack in his voice was unmistakable. It tore you to shreds.

Against your better judgment, against all the hurt and anger that simmered beneath the surface, you pulled back a bit, enough to see the forlorn, crestfallen look that etched itself into Leon's jaded features, then to notice your tears that had stained his t-shirt. You bit the corner of your lip, a feeble attempt at suppressing your sobs, you then leaned in, lips capturing his in a kiss that was neither soft nor forgiving.

It was desperate, messy, and filled with everything the two of you couldn't say. All the love, the pain, the hope you somehow hadn't given up on yet. His tongue slipped past the crack of your lips, hands roughly gripping onto your thighs and coaxing you onto his lap, your legs wrapping around his waist. Teeth clicked against one another, noses bumping into the other's cheek, foreheads pressed tightly. His stubble scratched your soft skin deliciously.

"You're all I have left," Leon murmured breathlessly between kisses, his voice thick with a maelstrom of emotions, the rawness of his confession hanging heavily in the charged air. His hands smoothed up your figure, finding purchase in your hair as he pulled you closer; he thought you might vanish if he let go, even for a moment.

You melted against him, like butter, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, trying to tether yourself to this moment—to him. Leon's lips tasted of something bittersweet—maybe cinnamon—the kiss holding a desperation that bordered on aching, as if he was trying to pour every unspoken apology and feeling into it.

A single tear rolled down Leon's flushed cheeks as you pulled away for air, forehead resting against his. His breath was warm against your lips, a sign he was real and right next to you. That this wasn't some dream, but reality.

Probably not the time, nor the place, but Leon was so fucking pretty when he cried.

You brought your hand up, the soft pad of your thumb stroking it away. He leaned into your gentle touch like a kicked puppy, pressing a soft kiss against the tip of your thumb as it brushed over his bottom lip.

"I don't deserve you," he whispered, the words barely audible but so full of meaning it made your chest ache, "but I don't know how to let you go."

[skyahri]

Arranged Marriage |Zuko X Reader| HC

Summary: Caught up in his personal conflict, Zuko completely neglects his marriage.

Warnings: Arranged marriage, forced marriage, whatever. Mentions of violence. Angsty Zuko and reader. Fem pronouns.

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

You'd married Zuko a little over a year into his reign as Fire Lord. You're the oldest daughter from a noble family, and the council decided it was best if Zuko married someone well liked by the community.

He didn't take it well. He was still hoping Mai would come back to him, and you being there completely obliterated those chances.

Not that there was a shot to begin with. Mai had made it abundantly clear that she wanted nothing to do with Zuko, even if she admitted to still having feelings for him.

Your relationship was staged to be perfect in the eyes of the people. Young love against all odds sort of thing.

The marriage ceremony was beautiful. Your robes were elegant, the flowers were perfect, and even your soon-to-be husband was handsome.

Zuko was charming towards the guests, really selling the story and gaining a lot of trust with his people. He was awkward but personable, something everyone ate up.

But he wasn't like that with you.

As soon as the two of you were away from public eyes, he didn't so much as look your way.

You slept in different rooms and ate at opposite ends of the table. He excluded you from as many duties as he could, stating something about him not wanting to concern you.

Life in a palace was pretty isolating. The only people you could talk to were servants, and even then, your topics were extremely limited.

You'd taken to the gardens as much as possible. It felt nice to be outside and even better to see the plants and animals.

Tending to the flowers was one of the few things you were allowed to do without constant eyes on you. The lonely atmosphere felt intentional instead of forced.

But after a year of this, not even the newly budding flowers could heal your disdain. Your once bubbly exterior had been chipped away by the dread and disappointment that lingered in your heart.

You were truly just a shell of your former self by this point.

There was no change with Zuko. He'd made no effort to get to know you or even just not hate you. Any attempt you'd made in the beginning to soften the relationship had been put out the moment it left your lips. It seemed like public pleasantries would be the extent of your marriage.

You'd long given up on trying to befriend the older women who waited on you. They had no desire to be anything more than the people who got you through the day.

You'd given up on trying to sneak away with the kitchen staff to the market. They feared being held responsible for you, even if you claimed to be plenty capable of taking care of yourself.

All that was really left to do was to just stay quiet and look pretty. The sad fate of the Fire Lord's wife.

You'd been laying in bed all morning. It was one of the few days where nothing was planned. No meetings, no guests, no events- nothing.

Well, at least you thought.

"Miss Y/N, Lord Zuko has requested your presence. We must get you ready immediately."

They'd dragged you out of bed and stuffed you into a pair of your nicest robes. They're doing your hair up and rushing to cover your face in makeup.

"Why am I being summoned?"

"The Avatar and his friends have arrived. They were the ones to request you."

"I see."

It made sense. You had met the Gaang at your wedding, and they were everything you'd expected; kind, loud, and passionate. Just like Zuko was said to be.

At the time, they'd promised to come by often, but you hadn't seen them since. You'd heard something about the rebuilding of the air temple and having some unexpected issues arise, so they just hadn't had time until now.

You met Zuko at the front gates. His friends arrived just after, allowing the servants to take their things to their rooms. Without a word, Katara grabbed your arm and dragged you away with the other girls. You turned back to see the same happening with Zuko and the boys.

They pulled you all around the surrounding area. For the first time in a long time, the dread started to fade away.

You'd bought some new incense, hair pins, and seeds for the flower beds. They were small purchases in comparison to the others, who had gone all out with new clothes, trinkets, and a heap of spicy snacks for Sokka.

You'd suggested several times over the last few hours that it was time to head back to the palace, but only now that it was growing dark did the trio actually listen.

Just as you had begun packing up, a string of explosions started on the next block and made its way towards the plaza you were in.

Toph was quick to make a stone barrier, but that didn't stop the cloud of soot from staining your skin and clothes.

A group of men had emerged from the smoke and revealed themselves to be Ozai supporters. Not everyone was pleased with the fundamentals Zuko was running the country on, so rebels had started causing a bit of an uproar.

Katara, Toph, and Suki did their best to take the men down swiftly, but that didn't stop you from getting injured in the process.

Your forearms had been severely burned when you'd covered your face from an attack. Katara offered to heal you, but it'd have to wait until you got back to the palace where her spirit water was.

The trip back was uneventful. Some of the local guards stationed in the city had insisted on escorting you guys back, which at this point you couldn't deny.

Apparently, word had already gotten back to Fire Lord Zuko, who was waiting at the front doors of the palace for your arrival.

He immediately stepped forward and picked up your hand, letting the scorched fabric fall and reveal your burn. He did the same with the other and sighed.

"Please give us the room."

You watched as everyone filed out of the room, the guards towards the exit and your friends towards the south wing.

"These are severe,"

He cupped your face in his hands and tilted your head so he could get a good look. His thumb swiped over some of the soot on your face.

You were confused by his actions, but the pain from your burns created a bit of a blur in your mind, keeping you from thinking too hard about it.

"The others couldn't protect you?"

"They did what they could. I apologize for the hassle-"

"Why are you apologizing? None of this is your fault."

You opted to stay silent. You weren't sure what to say. This is the longest conversation you'd had in private since you'd met, and you were finding it hard to navigate.

It was silent for a minute. The vibe was awkward, and you desperately wanted to hide away from all of it.

His face contorted slightly, like he wanted to say something but couldn't. You didn't pry. It didn't feel like your place to ask.

"Why don't you head to your room for a bath, and I'll have Katara meet you in there once you're done."

You nodded and made your way down the corridor. You stripped down and opted to just toss your clothes in the trash. Between the ash and scorch marks, there was no saving anything.

The second the water touched your wounds, you winced. Tears pricked your eyes as you watched small bits of charred skin go down the drain. The pain quickly went from a sharp sting to almost mind-numbing. You sat down and let the water just run down your body while you waited for the brunt of the discomfort to pass.

In your hazy state of mind, you hadn't heard the knock on the door, so you were surprised when Zuko entered in much more casual clothing.

When he saw you hunched over on the shower floor, he didn't say anything. He moved to the side of the tub and went to touch you, but you weakly swatted his hands away.

"I'm not comfortable with you being in here whole I'm naked."

"I'm your husband-"

"You're a stranger."

Ouch. Harsh but fair, and he knew it.

"Look, I know I haven't been good to you over the past year, and I'm sorry. We can talk about it more when you're feeling better, but for now just let me take care of you."

Satisfied with his response, you stopped resisting his help. You let him wash your hair and scrub your skin. His touch was gentle despite how rough his hands were.

He never once made you feel uncomfortable. He was thourough but never lingered. It was almost as if this was a normal occurrence.

When he was done, he offered you a towel and left you alone in the bathroom to get dressed. When you entered your bedroom, Katara was on your bed, but Zuko was nowhere in sight.

"Just me. Sorry to disappoint."

"No, no. I'm glad you're here."

You sat in front of her on the bed and let her examine your burns. She positioned your arms for easy access and opened her canister. You watched the water glow and the skin slowly heal itself. It was amazing, nothing like anything youd seem before.

"So," she broke the silence, "Has he warmed up to you at all?"

You were surprised by her words. You weren't sure how much they knew or what all you should say. Last thing you wanted to do was incriminate him.

Sensing your hesitation to respond, Katara clarified her question.

"I know everything, at least, from his side. You can be honest with me."

"Honest?"

"Honest."

A small smile crept onto your face.

"I think you're friend is an ass."

"I couldn't agree more."

You told her everything; the loneliness, the isolation, the lack of, well, everything in your relationship and life. She listened, something you're eternally grateful for. It felt nice just to get it off your chest instead of suffering silently.

"Today was the greatest day I've had in a long time. I got to leave the palace and talk to people and for once it felt like my husband didn't hate me."

"Zuko doesn't hate you."

"Could've fooled me."

"He doesn't hate you. Just talk to him. I know he has a lot to say, and it seems you do as well."

Once your arms were healed good as new, Katara left your quarters and returned to her own. You'd crawled under the covers and passed out, completely exhausted from the day.

The next day, you took Katara's advice and decided to speak with Zuko. You woke up early, before the sun had risen and made your way to his room.

He was surprised to see you, much less in your nightwear at such an hour. He invited you in nonetheless, where you then entered and decided to sit on his bed. You patted the spot in front of you, and he hesitantly sat.

"Katara said we should talk."

"Okay."

Sensing that he wasn't going to be the one to initiate anything, you decided to get the ball rolling.

It was a long conversation. Zuko confessed a lot of things, mostly about bitter feelings towards life and guilt over his actions. He apologized for everything and listened to everything you had to say. He made a lot of promises to be better.

He stuck to his word. He began including you in anything you were welcome to. Dinners became more personal, and eventually, you started sleeping in his room like a proper married couple.

By the time team Avatar had visited again, things had visibly changed. You were both happier, and your once fake marriage had become real. You meshed into the group just fine, making the pseudo family that much bigger.

All thanks to a simple conversation.

[zayneslady]

Summary: they seem to prefer their hunter friend more than you and you're tired and hurt about it

Warnings: angst, open ending(?. The reader is not MC, if that makes sense.

Characters: Zayne, Xavier, Rafayel x reader (separately)

a/n: feeling angsty tonight. Hope you enjoy my first post!

Classification: scenarios

Rafayel

"Haaah." What a big sigh. "I miss my bodyguard..."

Was that something you could say in front of your girlfriend? You flushed to the tip of your ears. Shame ran through your body with a chill that made your skin crawl. You left the fork on the plate, and the sound made Rafayel turn around to look at you. His eyes soon saw the color on your face and he gasped, suddenly realizing the mistake he had just made, but it was too late. You both knew it.

"No," he said almost breathlessly. "That was not what I-

You rose from your seat before he could continue. 

"I think... you want someone else around you at the moment," you said calmly, finally daring to look at him through blurry sight. "M-Maybe, we can have another date... some other time. Now, excuse me, Rafayel." 

"No, wait! Come back!" 

You rushed out of the restaurant, feeling curious eyes on you, making your skin become even redder. You felt so humiliated. It was not the first time something like this had happened, one could only take so much. You were not the jealous type, on the contrary, knowing Rafayel's personality, you tried to be relaxed around him, but, perhaps... he wanted to forget his bodyguard using you? 

That was so lame and pathetic! 

A sob made you tremble and you lowered your head, trying to avoid anyone seeing you as you walked as fast as you could to the bus station.

"Wait!" He called your name, running to catch up with you. To your misfortune, the bus was not there yet and you both arrived at the station at the same time. "Listen to me, please," he said breathlessly and you shook your head. 

"I don't want to," you mumbled, trying to hide your tears, but it was impossible. "Rafayel, why did you come here? I left you so you could call your bodyguard."

"Please don't say that, I really didn't-

"You did!" You finally looked at him, your lower lip trembling. "Rafayel, I understand... I truly understand, but if you have feelings for her... why are you even with me? You're hurting me, you know?"

He flushed as he grabbed your shoulders. "I do not have feelings for her! I... I really don't have feelings for her. I want you. I have feelings for you, can't you see?" 

You shook your head, choking on a sob. "I can't. I can't see it when you say such things in front of me, Rafayel." Oh, how much you loved saying his name. It felt so nice against your tongue. It made your heart tingle lovingly... how stupid. 

"No, listen! I don't - I didn't... I don't know why I said that, I swear. I just... I am so sorry, please."

"I'm sorry too, Rafayel. You know this is not the first time... Every time we see each other, you say something related to her. 'What do you think my miss bodyguard is doing right now? She must be really busy doing that job of hers', 'Whoa, my bodyguard really likes these candies! I'm gonna get her some, wait here', 'I'm gonna order this food, it's my bodyguard's favorite!'... Rafayel, I'm not made of wood, you know?" 

He was speechless. Pupils trembling slightly. He hadn't even realized all that. That only made you feel more hurt. Did he ever take your feelings into consideration?

"I am sorry," he mumbled, helplessly.

"I am too...," you repeated, listening to the bus approaching. "I gotta go now, Rafayel. I hope... You can sort out your feelings and tell her how you feel. Now, excuse me."

"No, please! I really want to be with you, I- 

"See you, Rafayel."

Zayne

"M-Miss Hunter? Bit-

"Yes," he said, checking his phone one more time before giving you some money, your cheeks flushing. "I forgot I had a date with her. You don't mind if I leave, right? Take this, you can pay for our food with this."

"... I- 

"I promised her," he said, as if begging for you to let go of him... but you never really had any right to make him stay.

"You promised me too. You said you took your day off for me... was it a lie?" 

"No. It wasn't a lie, but right now I-

You nodded. Also getting up. "Zayne... Zayne are you sure you wanted to have a relationship with me?" 

He frowned, his expression just slightly surprised. "Of course I am sure. Why are you asking me th- 

"Or did you just want a replacement for someone you cannot have?" His eyes widened, but you continued. "I also have feelings, Zayne. I am not asking you to put me above all but... you can't even respect our time together? If you want to go out with miss Hunter, go ahead, I don't mind. But don't make plans with me and cancel them when we're in the middle of it. You could also pay me a bit more of attention instead of texting her all the time don't you think?" 

Zayne blinked, reaching out for you, but you stepped back. "Listen, this is not what you think. I do want to be with you, it's just- 

"I think... It's better if we leave things here, Zayne. My heart can only take so much. You're free to go."

"Are we....breaking up?"

You nod, forcing the tears back. "I think it's for the best, Zayne to end up here. Thank you for your time, I'm sorry I was taking a bit too much of it. I was just greedy. You don't get your crush to fall in love with you too often... I think I was wrong in that as well."

Tears rolled down your cheeks, no matter how hard you tried to stop them. "You can take your money back. You don't have to pay me for my time. Lunch's on me."

He said your name, almost desperately. "Wait, please. Let me explain this. Please."

"Goodbye, Zayne." 

"No, please. Let's talk. I really-

"She's waiting for you. Don't make her wait much more."

Xavier

Wow. You had never seen him smiling like that. His eyes were lit up like beautiful stars on a summer night. His lips curled upward, showing beautiful perfect teeth. He really looked attractive. It would be great if he was looking at you too.

"W-What's so funny, Xav?" You asked sheepishly, smiling shyly at him.

"Hmm?" He raised his eyes from his phone and met yours, his smile erasing completely as he put his phone down. "Oh," he said, disappointedly, your ears heated up. "Nothing. I was just texting with my partner."

Your eyes widened slightly. "Y-Your partner?"

"Yes," he said firmly, his voice making you feel tiny. "She's the hunter I work with. I've talked about her before."

"Yes..." Plenty.

"Mhmm," he sighed. Laying down against the picnic blanket under him. "She asked me if I wanted to go eat with her. I had to tell her no because I'm with you... Hey, how long do you think- are you crying?"

You were. Tears streaming down your face nonstop. Xavier sat up, gently grabbing your shoulder, but you softly moved away as you covered your eyes from him.

"H-Hey, what's wrong? Where are you going?"

You sniffed, looking down at him as you grabbed your bag. "Xavier... I'm sorry. I did not know you would like to go out with your partner more than me."

His eyes widened as he also got up. "No. No, you got it all wrong. I-

"Please. Please stop making excuses. No matter what I do and how hard I try, I'm never enough for you, Xavier."

"..."

"You don't smile like that when you're with me. In any case you look bored and annoyed," you gasped, trying to calm your voice between sobs. "I tried not to mind it... I thought that was your expression, but when you talk about her. Your eyes look so beautiful. So lively and warm. And your smile is so bright and sincere and... happy."

"Please, listen to me..."

"I think I'm the one that makes you unhappy."

He shook your head, but didn't do much more than that and you thought you really had enough.

"I won't make you suffer anymore, Xavier. You were never mine completely, but that little part I desperately hold on to, I let it free. You're free to be with her," you smiled softly. "Thank you... for being with me for as long as you did."

"Don't go, please. I want to be with you."

Your lower lip trembled as you nodded a little. "It would've been nice if you didn't make me feel the other way around, Xavier."

"W-Wait, please!"

"Goodbye, then."

[mickandmusings]

indifferent

pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x f!reader

word count: 2.4k

summary: a year ago, the sight of jake seresin would've sent her into a flurry of tears. now, as she stares at him chatting up the bleach-blonde at the bar, all she feels is a deep hatred for the man who charmed the room with his stupid texan accent and encapsulating green eyes.

warnings: 18+ MDNI!!! seriously, this is actually a lot more smutty than usual for me; this is my first attempt at more serious smut so it's not good but we're trying new things!; angsty yet fluffy; exes to enemies to lovers (these two hate each other); no use of Y/N; sort of mean!jake, but not really; reader is described as wearing a skirt

based on megan moroney's 'indifferent'

-

As she walks into the Hard Deck, she's convinced the universe is doing everything it can to royally fuck her over.

She'd hoped for a nice night with some random but handsome Naval personnel, make him pay for drinks, give him a rather steamy and heavy make out session, and leave before it can go any further. When she enters from the beach side doors, her eyes scan the room for...Brayden? Brandon? Brian? She couldn't really remember the name attached to his Tinder profile, only remembering the beauty of a Bronco in his pictures, but he wasn't important. What was really important was the spine-chilling hate crawling up her chest as she spots the khaki-uniform-clad blonde at the bar.

Jake fucking Seresin.

Her eyes narrow, knowing her night had already soured, and it hadn't even started. She and Jake had a....history, of sorts. By history she meant deep-seeded rage and hatred for one another after a failed relationship. A year ago, she had been in a mutually exclusive relationship with the aforementioned Lieutenant Seresin, well, one she had thought had been mutually exclusive. Until she found herself worrying and fretting every time he went out with his friends. And her gut had been right, because only six months into the relationship she'd had the dreaded 'hey girl, is this your man?' message sitting in her Instagram DM. When he came home that night and had denied it all, vehemently, she might add, it had escalated to a screaming match and her storming out of the house. From that moment on, she hadn't even bothered to check-in on what he was doing in his life. She hated Jake Seresin, and as much as she told herself she was indifferent to what he was doing with the bleach-blonde giggling next to him at the bar, she knew her skin itched to ruin his night.

Instead, she decided to be the bigger person. In her direct line of vision, she found an empty table in the corner and made her way towards it. She had passed the bar successfully, and she was merely inches away from taking her claim on the seat when his southern accent tumbles into her ears.

"Didn't expect to see you here, darlin'."

Fuck me now.

She takes a deep breath before turning around meeting his tall figure. He hadn't changed, still muscular and broad, big green eyes and well-kept blonde hair. She rolls her eyes, tapping her nails against the table nonchalantly. She didn't care about him, and she would not fall victim to his charms-never again.

"What do you want, Seresin?"

His eyes widen, a shit-eating grin creeping on his face as he raises his hands in mock surrender.

"Damn, sweetheart, I'm just sayin' hello."

"Yeah I bet. Hey, Jake. Now, you better scurry back to your girl at the bar before she gets scooped up by one of your little Navy buddies."

He looks back at Coyote's girlfriend he had been casually catching up with, certainly not flirting, but if it riled up the girl in front of him, well, then he'd play into it. Jake shrugs, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"Not too worried about it, not really interested."

Yeah, I bet.

"So what do you want with me? Because you're not here to play catch up, Seresin."

Jake takes a good look at her, she's obviously here for a date. Her outfit is casual enough for the bar, but accents her curves enough to attract some appeal. Even enough to make his own pants feel tight. Whoever she was here with was one damn lucky man, no matter how jealousy burned at Jake's chest.

"You look good tonight."

She audibly scoffs, rolling her eyes at the compliment.

"If you're here to grovel about what happened, save it. You should've done that a year ago."

Jake bristles, annoyed. Their blow-up fight had been a simple case of misunderstanding. He hadn't been flirting with the girl at the bar that night, he'd been helping her escape a creep who had been following her around the bar. He had to admit, the photo had been a little...compromising, when taken out of context. She'd never even given him a chance to explain himself before blowing it out of the water. They'd both yelled at one another, not bothering to hear either side of the other's statements. She left full of shaking anger, and he hadn't seen her since, until now.

"Maybe I could've groveled if you would've listened to me for two damn minutes."

She swings her head around, her own feelings bristling as she raises her voice.

"Listen to you?! The evidence was pretty damn convincing, Jake!"

He breathes deeply, cutting his green eyes to Phoenix standing at the pool table. The brunette lifts a brow in his direction. Jake knows this is going to escalate quickly, both of their tempers flaring, and for the sake of not ruining his reputation in front of his coworkers, he grips her arm and takes her outside to the parking lot.

"What the fuck are you doing?! Get your hands off of me!"

As they approach the spot where his truck is parked, he lets go of her and she crosses her arms.

"You're yellin' at me like some kind of crazy in there. My teammates are in there-"

"Oh! God forbid the great Hangman is embarrassed in front of his friends."

She's angry, flaring with an annoyance so great she's blind to what she's saying. Jake, a man known for his ego, seems to flare in the same manner. His voice is biting when he speaks.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it!"

"I swear to God, you must get off on the idea of pissing me off!"

They're loud, yelling over one another about trivial things-her being here on a date, him flirting at the bar with another girl, stupid things that didn't amount to much, but nearly anything could fuel the fire between them. Both were still ridiculously attracted to one another, despite everything, and their feelings ran deep. Jake's face is red-between the heat of California and his searing annoyance, he had begun to work up a sweat. Not to mention how incredibly hot she looked when she was pissed. Their voices could not get any louder at one another, spouting off any detail they could think of. Finally, it draws to a head when she spits out her next sentence, her tone biting.

"You know, I fucking hate you, Jake Seresin."

Jake chuckles dryly, no humor lacing his tone.

"That's a harsh claim comin' from the girl givin' me fuck me eyes."

She recoils, crossing her arms over her chest. She knows he's right, despite her annoyance with him, she knows there's still a fire between them, one she tries to swallow despite her blood burning and her heart racing.

"You wish, asshole."

"Yeah, I do."

His response shocks her, his tone softer than before, but his eyes nearly predatory. He can feel his usual roomy uniform grow tight, his jaw clenched tightly. Her eyes dart between his own as they glimmer in the moonlight, and she finds herself unable to find a retort. No worries, Jake's voice oozes with charm and seduction.

"What? Cat got your tongue all of a sudden, darlin'? You sure were all talk only a few seconds ago."

"Y-You don't mean that."

Her voice comes out small and unsure, her throat feeling dry and her entire being throbbing with the tingle of desire.

"Don't mean what?"

He comes closer, eyes never falling from her own, his calloused hands coming around her hips. He almost expects her to flinch out of his touch, but she lets him hold her against his own hips. She can see and feel the evidence of his own arousal, the usual light color of his eyes dark with lust.

"You think I'd lie about wantin' you? You're a damn fool if you think that, I've thought about you since the night you ran out my door."

She stills, her heart racing as she manages to form a thought.

"Y-You cheated on me, I'm not falling for this."

She goes to turn from his hold, but his grip on her hips is tight.

"No."

His voice is firm, demanding.

"That ain't what happened. You just never gave me a second to explain it. So I'm gonna talk, and you're gonna listen, got it?"

His voice was serious, but he was never intimidating or scary. Jake might be an asshole, but he'd never lay a hand on her, not like that.

"I wasn't flirtin' with that girl, never did, not once. That girl asked me to help her, and whoever sent you pictures of us got it all out of context. I might be a dick but I wouldn't do that to you, and I thought you knew that."

She looks at him, conflicted between wanting to jump his bones or punch him square in the jaw. She settles on simply asking a question.

"So why did you never try to call me? O-Or text me to explain?"

"Would you have listened?"

She already knew the answer to that.

"No."

He raises an eyebrow, nodding his head in a knowing look. Both halves of the couple are quiet for a minute, not knowing where to go from here. She's the first to break the silence.

"So, what does this mean?"

Jake shrugs.

"Nothin' if you don't want it to. But if you want me like I want you right now, I'd be okay with that, too."

The heat-filled tension is almost palpable, both of their chests heaving with barely contained want. Jake wants nothing more than to throw her over his shoulder and take her in the backseat of his truck, but this isn't his decision. It's hers-she has to decide if he's what she wants.

She cocks her head to the side before looking back up at him.

"And if I do want you like you want me?"

He feels himself twitch in his godforsaken uniform.

"Then you say the word and I'll make you forget whatever little shit you came here to meet."

In all honesty, she already had forgotten about...Bryson? Fuck, she really couldn't remember the poor guy's name.

"I swear to God, Seresin, if you don't touch me I'll lose my fucking mind."

Jake grins, pulling her flush against him.

"Well we can't have that can we, darlin'?"

His lips meet her own with little warning, a frenzy of clashing teeth and fumbling hands. Jake's hands meet on her back dangerously low, before he's placing his palms flat on her ass, pulling her up and her legs wrap around his waist. Her body flames at even the smallest stimulation, and when his hard-on meets her core, she lets out a provocative moan. Jake is going blind with an unbridled, insatiable want, and he wants-no-needs her, now.

"Baby," he grunts as her hips roll into his own. "You gotta stop that or I'm gonna take you right here in this goddamn parkin' lot."

She pulls back from his gaze, giving him a look as she breathes heavily, her lips plump from his fervor.

"When have we ever been above fucking in your back seat?"

Jake shakes his head and slams open the back door of his truck, wasting zero time tossing her lightly against the leather seats. Once, not so long ago, she would've given him shit for his ridiculous truck, but in this moment, with nothing but pure lust in her eyes, she was thankful for his spacious back seats and tinted windows. He slams the door behind him, and effectively clicks the lock attached to his keys before tossing them into the passenger side seat, his hands now free to grasp the supple flesh of her bottom. His lips return to the open plain of her neck, and she sighs, knowing he was headed towards the sweet spot in the junction of her neck and jaw. He finds it within seconds, and she chokes on a gasp. Her hands find purchase in his blonde locks, a lot less soft from the gel, but still comfortable. Jake groans against her collarbone from the sensation alone, his hips subconsciously thrusting to meet against her own. His lips travel down to the exposed top of her chest before he pulls back, tossing his uniform top and undershirt, dog tags dangling down to brush against her skin. He looks down at her with his hands grasping her hips.

"You sure about this?"

She nods, she'd never been more sure.

"I need your words, baby."

God, this man was going to kill her.

"Yeah, I'm sure, Jake."

In one swift move, he's yanking down the skirt on her hips, her undergarments with it. His knee separates her legs, leaving her completely exposed to his eyes alone. He shakes his head and tuts, smiling the infamous Hangman grin.

"As beautiful as the day I lost 'er."

He darts back down between her legs before beginning to ravish her completely. The next long stretch of time is spent with both of them completely lost in one another. The sound of skin meeting skin fills the air, mingling with cries of pleasure, mangled gasps, and the whispers of each other's names. By the time they both fall against one another after their heights, they're panting and sweating, completely sated and exhausted. The air is quiet, only their heavy breaths between them. Jake is the first to speak after a bout of nothingness.

"Who were you here to meet with anyhow? Hard Deck doesn't seem like somewhere you'd come for shits and giggles."

She takes a breath, rolling over to lie on his chest, tucking her head under his chin as his large hand grips her hip, pulling her closer.

"Met some guy on Tinder. Brayden? Bryson? I don't remember, just saw a really nice Bronco in his pictures. Seemed cute enough for a casual Friday night."

Jake's eyes widen, he moves his head to his hand, propping himself up to look down at her.

"Bradley, maybe?"

She shrugs.

"Yeah, maybe, why?"

"He got a mustache, lots of funky patterned shirts?"

She furrows her brow, wondering how he knew.

"Yeah, why?"

Jake groans as he lays back down, running a hand over his face. She giggles, leaning up to prop her head on his chest.

"What?"

Jake grins.

"I can't believe I was about to lose you to Bradshaw of all people."

She listens to him chuckle, but she doesn't return the action. She shakes her head, pushing blonde hair out of his face.

"You won't lose me, not again."

-

[livinginshambles]

Not ridiculous at all | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: You are part of the marauders, always having felt special when they called you part of the gang, but also consequently too embarrassed to admit to wanting to be more feminine, afraid that they would no longer deem you cool enough to hang out with you. You are hurt by James' comments and James might realise something when you're avoiding him.

Notes: Best friend!James, he's a bit stupid, Lily is a sweet friend, arguments, so maybe a little angsty, but not really, classic cliche tropes like friends to lovers, misunderstandings, pining (I literally just dreamt this so it's a bit patchy) and I know it's very stereotypical but that's why it's just fanfiction :)

(PS) I haven't written before, just wanted to get this out of my system. English is my third language, and this fic is not proofread because I'm way too lazy for that! Enjoy!

Part two Masterlist

__________________

You've grown up with James Potter and have been part of the marauders since the very beginning. You always took 'being one of the guys' or 'part of the gang' as a compliment, it left you feeling giddy as if you were included in some secret group that only you had the privilege of belonging to.

But sometimes you would sit in the girls dormitory and despite your friends laughing and chatting about, you would feel a wave of loneliness wash over you. They often did activities together and by now, 6th year at Hogwarts, they've managed to stop asking you to join them as you've always dutifully replied that it 'wasn't your thing'.

I mean, what would the guys think of you? It would be too embarrassing to admit to them, or anyone for that matter, that you would love to be dolled up for once. To go shopping with your friends, be included in movie nights, asked by Alice if she could test some makeup on you, or read and gossip about the new romance novels that were the new hype.

Especially now when you sat on your bed, part of the circle in which they were discussing plans to go dress shopping.

"You should absolutely join us!" Alice squealed in delight. You were shaken out of your train of thoughts with a huh and realized the conversation had taken a turn somewhere and now included you too. Marlene and Lily nodded fervently in agreement but you bashfully shook your head.

"Nah, can you imagine me in a dress?" You joked, but Dorcas caught the curious and somewhat longing look in your eyes at the mention of getting ready for the Yule ball.

"I think you would look great actually. And besides, you can treat yourself too sometime you know. You're not obligated to stick with the marauders all the time." The girls in the dorm once again all agreed and you smiled at their kindness.

"Since when are you interested in things like the Yule ball?"

You snapped your head up at James to see his questioning eyes and then quickly averted your own in a flustered manner as if one of your greatest secrets had just been uncovered. "I just think it seems nice, that's all, I'm not even going or anything", you defended. You felt slightly embarrassed by James' face which wore a weirded out expression.

"Well you're not really the type to go to such an event anyway right?", James remarked. You did your best to hide your frown at his immediate agreement. Was it that bad that you'd hoped he would say something along the lines of 'what are you talking about, go enjoy yourself at the party' or something like that?

"Besides I can't imagine you in a dress, all made up, it'd just look so ridiculous." James continued. Remus, ever the sweet and attentive boy glanced at you and noticed your slightly sacked shoulders in disappointment at his words.

"I mean you're just not that type of person, you know? Like completely opposite of Lily."

And with that your face felt like it burned from embarrassment. As if you didn't already know. That didn't mean you didn't want to be more like her sometimes.

Peter's eyes flicked with concern from James to you and back.

You felt hurt and forced yourself to stop tears welling up at his words, mustering up a grin, ready to agree with him but were interrupted by Sirius who had now also caught your change in mood.

"Prongs, you really have no tact at all, how are you expecting to even win Evans over with that?" He said in a playful manner as to not offend their whipped friend, but not fully succeeding.

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" James looked slightly offended and Remus jumped in the conversation.

"That's just not a nice thing to say. It's different if you call me an ugly toad, but not Y/N! If she wants to go to the Yule Ball all dolled up, she definitely should." He shot you a supportive smile which you returned.

Peter nodded in agreement. "I don't think you'd look ridiculous at all," he told you sincerely. You subtly scooted a little closer to him and Remus.

"But it's Y/N, it'd just look weird, cause she's just not a proper girl like that, no offense." James shot back and gave you a smile at the last two words.

You saw Remus opening his mouth to retort but quickly intervened. "He's right." You told them. You just wanted this conversation to be over with already. It was awkward and painful for you as it was.

James didn't seem to get the memo, however, and kept on going, drilling your confidence further into the ground.

"See, she agrees." He turned to you. "It's not like you're ugly or anything but it'd be ridiculous. Like I said, you're not the type to be all beautiful and dressed up, hair done and all. I mean you're cool, but not pretty like that." He was clearly not done yet and started talking about Lily and her beauty at which point you abruptly got up and left.

"What's gotten into her?" James remarked with a frown.

Sirius and Remus didn't even bother to answer and just stared at him in disbelief.

The girls comforted you as you cried. Marlene barged in with ice cream, stolen from the kitchen in one hand and 5 spoons in the other. "What a jerk." She commented and thrust a spoon in your hand before plopping down in front of you with the rest of your friends.

Lily sighed frustratedly. "See this is why I don't like him at all. He's so rude and arrogant, and he-"

"- is right." You answered dejectedly. "I'm your friend, but not the type to join you guys and belong to your circle."

"Well that's only because you hang around the boys all the time," Alice argued. She nudged you. "But you know what, now that James is being a git, you can hang out with us!"

Dorcas gasped dramatically. "We could do a girls night! Treat ourselves a little", she jumped up. "I'll get the face masks and nail polish!"

Lily let go of you too and told you to sit up. "Come on, let me do your hair," she smiled.

With Marlene feeding you ice cream, your nails being polished by Alice, hair done by Lily and Dorcas reading the latest romance novel out loud while you were all wearing a facemask, you couldn't help but feel all warm inside.

"I love you guys."

"Don't talk with your mouth full."

You laughed and pushed Marlene teasingly off the bed.

"Hey, watch it! I just finished your right hand." Alice complained.

James was a moron. He was kind hearted (to most), popular, captain of the Quidditch team, good looking but a moron nonetheless. So he was absolutely clueless to find you missing from the common room yesterday evening and even more clueless when you were missing from your usual spot next to him at the Gryffindor table in the great hall, because he could not for the life of him think of a reason why you would sit with Alice and Frank instead.

He frowned and felt uneasy at the fact that you hadn't even looked at him, let alone come for a hug with your smile and said 'good morning' like usual. He shook the thoughts away. You were obviously allowed to have your own friends as well and not obligated to spend all your time with him.

The door of the great hall behind him opened and Lily Evans walked in, which was why instead of walking up to you to say something, he habitually turned to Lily instead.

"You look beautiful this morning as usual. I could put in the effort to match you when we go out together?" He shot her a wink and a coy smile but faltered slightly when his attempts at flirting got even less of a reaction out of her than usual.

James turned to Sirius with a questioning look, as if to ask 'you noticed that too right?' but Sirius simply shrugged. When James looked back at Frank and Alice, you were gone, having left the moment you felt his stare.

James started to ponder. 'Were you avoiding him? Surely you wouldn't, right? You two were friends after all, childhood friends. Childhood best friends even, for Merlin's sake! If you were upset with him, you'd definitely let him know.'

A week passed with you, sitting on the opposite sides of the classroom, seemingly having picked partners long before class because how else would you team up with random students before James could even blink?

He had now fully accepted that you were avoiding him. And with that, he meant 'accepting the possibility of that occurrence'. He was by no means going to accept your strange new behavior without doing anything.

The last drop though, was when he heard the news from Peter that you'd already left for Hogsmeade with the girls.

He frowned. 'You were kind', he reasoned. If you were upset with him, then he'd have to apologize. Quickly. Because it's been far too long without his best friend and he realized he missed you. Especially seeing you hang out with others.

"What did I do?" He finally asked his remaining friends.

"Really Prongs?" Remus couldn't help but ask. His friend just gave him a look that said 'well go on then, what is it'.

"How about you think about what you said last week, you know, those rude comments about the Yule ball."

"Yeah, but I already apologized yesterday and told her that I didn't mean to offend her!" James flailed his arms around when he exclaimed it.

"But she's still only hanging out with anyone but me," he whined. "Peter studied with her, Pads got a 'good morning' this morning and you're still talking to eachother.

Remus gave him an unimpressed look at his whining but James was not done complaining yet.

"She keeps spending all her time with the girls while she doesn't even seem to be fully enjoying herself"

This was true. You dearly missed James, so despite your newfound hobbies, a look of sadness sometimes fell over your face, which hadn't escaped James' attention.

"And I just don't understand why she would-" He started but never finished, something dawning on him. "Oh of course! Merlin, I'm so stupid!" He shouted out in epiphany.

"Your words not mine," Sirius quickly took the opportunity.

"Oh bugger off Pads", James laughed and pushed Sirius' arm. And with that, he took off to find you.

Sirius and Remus watched him leave and sighed at the same time. "Do you really think he got it?"

"I bloody hope so, Moony."

"But it's James."

"Yeah, but I mean it's not my fight but even I realize that she's sad that James made fun of the idea of her being more girly when she secretly wants to be. Now she's trying out what she likes, without having to stay within the role of 'one of the guys'. I mean, it's pretty straightforward. I guess a genuine apology and show of support is the solution."

"But it's James."

"Yep, you're right."

Though he hadn't been able to find you, he'd waited patiently for your return in the common room. Staring at the ceiling from his laid back position on the couch.

"Oh there you are, Y/N," He rushed to sit up to face you when you entered the room. If you were surprised by his presence, you didn't show it.

"We need to talk, I wanted to apologize." He breathed out, relieved at himself for having figured it out. "Also, I've missed you so much."

You felt a weight fall off your shoulders. You didn't want to be upset with him and felt incredibly relieved to hear him say that.

"I'm sorry for the things I said. I didn't mean for you to get offended or anything," James began.

"Yeah, you already said that." You frowned. "And I remember I told you that that was not a proper apology."

"I know, I know. It was shitty of me so I wanted to apologize. Properly you know? I'm really really sorry. I was a terrible friend and shouldn't have said the things I said. Please forgive me?" He proceeded to give you Bambi eyes in an attempt to convince you. It unsurprisingly worked.

You softly smiled up at him. "Okay". You barely got the word out before he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug.

"Great," he said, cutting through the comfortable silence that you two had been hugging in.

"Now you don't have to avoid me anymore, and you can stop sitting with the girls to prove your point, and join us again instead." He triumphantly continued.

What now?

You blanked. "I'm sorry?" You managed to ask.

"I get that I hurt you by saying your weren't a proper girl, but you don't have to pretend to prove your point by trying to be one." James stated, proud of himself that he figured it out.

"Because I can see that you don't like it, like your face gets all gloomy which is understandable because it isn't really your circle of people."

You stared at him, an incredulous look on your face.

"Fuck you James." You said, your voice coming out softer than you'd hoped. Tears were welling up again, but you couldn't help yourself.

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I do want that to be my circle of people? That I don't just want to be one of the guys all the time? Is it that crazy to think that I'm still a girl with feelings? That I want to feel pretty too? That I don't like being told by my supposed best friend that I'm basically ugly? That I hate to be compared to other girls like that?"

You were ranting and James had taken a step back, surprised by your outburst.

"No, that's not what I-", James tried to salvage the situation but you weren't having it.

"You've told me that stuff for as long as I can remember and I never told you otherwise because I was scared that you'd no longer want to hang out with me for not being a 'chill friend'. But you know what, I no longer want you to."

At this point, you angrily wiped your eyes to get rid of tears that were threatening to spill. "So fuck you". With that, you brushed past him, escaping upstairs to your room.

James Fleamont Potter felt absolutely miserable.

If anyone told James that you'd ever be more on his mind than Lily, he would call them ridiculous. But here he was, another week had passed and he was staring at your back as you were leaving with your friends for Hogsmeade again.

You weren't wearing your school uniform and robes anymore and James was surprised to see you wearing one of what he knew to be Lily's dresses.

'It suited you more than it suited Lily.' The unwarranted thought flashed through his mind and he shook his head with a scoff to himself. What was going on?

James also noticed that your hair was brushed and shining with a butterfly clip holding your hair in a bun. He wondered when you decided to change your hairstyle because he found that it framed your face perfectly.

'Not ridiculous at all,' he understood.

You looked absolutely perfect.

You turned your face a little and James could feel his head reeling. Have you always been this glowing? Was he just simply missing you? He didn't even realize that he hadn't spared Lily a glance- until Sirius mentioned her while they were having a drink - and a strange feeling washed over him at the thought.

You were running from Filch.

'Fuck I shouldn't have studied after hours, curfew was probably hours ago," you cursed to yourself and took a sharp right turn. You were trying to reach the secret passage right behind the big statue on the fourth floor when you saw the hallway light up because of Filches torch.

Forcing your legs to move faster, you were suddenly grabbed by the wrist. A hand was clasped over your mouth and you felt a heavy cloth fall over you.

You recognised the person pressed to your back immediately and tried not to melt in his embrace as Filch walked straight past the two of you, covered in the invisibility cloak.

You could feel his breath against your temple. His hand had dropped from your mouth, instead draping across your stomach now to rest on your side. The other held out in front of you to create space under the cloak. You shifted a little and finally turned your head and lifted it to look at him and thank him but you were unable to say anything for a moment.

You simply admired him.

The proximity of the two of you in that intimate embrace had something fluttering in your stomach and you harshly jerked away in denial when your feelings hit you.

Oh no.

Now, all suddenly? What changed? Does it really take one random moment to flip your world upside down?

You rushed to push the invisibility cloak out of your way and then left without sparing James another glance.

James couldn't force his legs to move to run after you, still reeling from about the exact same epiphany that you'd just run away from. Your gaze, his fast beating heart and the urge he had felt to lean down for a kiss had confirmed his conflicted feelings of the past few days since he'd seen you leave for Hogsmeade.

The following morning, you'd had the chance to properly process the happenings of last night.

Your conclusion was that you felt guilty that you hadn't even expressed your gratitude. It was rude, you figured. Even if you were overwhelmed by the sudden wave of realization that came crashing down on you, it was rude.

So you pushed your confused feelings aside and marched up to him when you found him in the great hall.

"Thanks, I owe you." You awkwardly said, stopping at his spot at the Gryffindor table. All while absolutely not having forgotten about the fact that the last time you had said something to him, you'd flipped him off and told him to go fuck himself.

James was absolutely beaming. "Yeah you do, but no worries, I'll cash it in right away." This was his chance. He would make up for his behavior and act on his feelings right now.

"How about a date?"

There was a long silence. Your heart plummeted to the ground. Right. James. Lily. Lily and James.

"What am I a magician?" You finally managed to sarcastically retort. "I'm a convincing person but not a miracle worker." You pulled your hand through your hair as you looked around the great hall to see if you could spot Lily.

"Alright, I'll see what I can do." You forced a smile.

James, who had been mostly confused at your words, disregarded it completely in delight at your acceptance to go out with him, even if it seemed somewhat reluctant. Not that it would matter because he was going to prove what an amazing boyfriend he could be. If you'd accept him, of course.

He was grinning from ear to ear, which you mistook as excitement at the prospect of a potential date with Lily. So when you abruptly turned on your heels and marched over to Lily, James watched you confusedly.

And when he heard you try to talk Lily into going out with him, he wanted to crawl in a ditch and die. He stood there, frozen and recounting how you could've interpreted that wrongly.

You returned to him after a while with an apologetic smile. "Yeah sorry Prongs, she-"

"You", he blurted out.

You raised your eyebrows. "Me?" You repeated back.

"The date, I meant you. A-and me of course. Us, like you and me on a date. Together. I thought maybe Hogsmeade?" He managed to force the words out nervously.

There was a long silence and James' shoulders slumped a little. Even more when you finally answered.

"Uh, no?" You said in a questioning manner. James officially wanted to die now.

"You're sweet James, and I don't think you do it on purpose but you're not interested in me like that." You began, trying to convince not only James, but yourself as well.

James opened his mouth to argue but you quickly interrupted him before he could properly do so.

"James, you really don't. And you asking me out on a date when you've quite literally been drooling over Lily just last week as you have been doing for the past 5 years, that's not very nice to me." You frowned.

"Oh." He whispered. He was once again at a lack of words for a moment. Terrible new habit, he thought. This was not how he thought it would go.

"I'd still gladly go with you to Hogsmeade though?" You offered. "Just you know, not as an easy second choice date while you are obviously head over heels with her."

'I'm not', he wanted to tell you, but it was obvious that you wouldn't believe him. "Yeah okay," he weakly smiled. "Just the two of us though."

You nodded and stepped forward, wrapped your arms around him and he leaned into you, returning the hug.

With his face pressed in your hair, eyes closed, he decided that this situation wasn't too bad. He's fought for Lily's affection for years. He'd fight harder for yours.

Part two

[redroses07]

The Umbrella Academy Season 4 Fix It Fic // Five Hargreeves x Reader Edition

WC: 3.1k

CW: Canon accurate violence, swearing, kissing, use of Y/N, Y/N is a bad ass, domestic fluff, angsty af.

Summary: A Five x Fem!Reader rewrite for the end of season four because I absolutely hated the ending. Five and Lila are not a thing in this fic, because that made me literally gag.

A/N: Hey luvs! I worked my ass off writing this fic because I needed to have a better ending for season four. In my mind this fic is canon. I hope y'all like it because I truly love how it turned out! Have an amazing day and enjoy! - Claire ♡

Five sat on the empty train, riding round in aimless circles. He had no intention of ever stopping. Perhaps he would die here, if death was even possible in this endless void. There was no reason for him to continue, they were out of options.

All he wanted to do was save his family, save you, but he couldn't even do that. At least this way he could escape having to witness the end of their lives.

He couldn't help but feel as if this was all his fault, if only he had listened to Reginald when he told him never to time travel. So much pain, so many lost lives, it never would have happened.

Five looked out the window, he didn't know what exactly for. Everything looked the same. Round and Round again, each identical station feels more hopeless than the last.

After an immeasurable amount of time, days? years? who knows. Something caught Five's eye.

He jumped up from his seat, following the dark figure out into the station.

Was that? No.

"Hey, wait!" Five shouted, chasing him down a staircase.

He rounded a corner, seeing a dimly lit cafe filled with all too familiar faces. The place was filled with several alternate versions of Five himself. It was an odd feeling for him to see himself this way.

Nonetheless, he took a seat across from the Five he had followed.

No more than ten seconds later, another Five served up two pastrami sandwiches. Five number two began to complain about the amount of sauerkraut on his sandwich, staring intently at the meal.

"What is this place?" Five asked, reaching for the cup of hot coffee next to him.

"It's a gas station. What the hell does it look like? It's a Deli." He could see that the alternate Five share his love of sarcasm.

He went on to explain how this was a place where all of the Five's from alternate timelines end up while trying to fix the "broken timeline" issue.

"Okay, so what shattered the original timeline?" Five asked.

"Not what. Who? I'll give you three guesses." Alternate Five held up three fingers.

"We did!" Another Five yelled.

Five wasn't surprised, everything always seemed to be caused by him.

"By we, do you mean my siblings?" Five asked.

"Yep, the morons."

Five rolled his eyes.

"When we come into existence, the timeline is shattered, and then we're stuck trying to save the world. How many times was it again?"

"145,412."

The number seemed almost impossible to fathom, but the more alternate realities, the more opportunity for the world to end. Alternate Five pointed at the wall, which was filled with every possible way the world had ended. Viktor's attempt at blowing up the moon was front and center. Seeing it gave Five an unpleasant sense of nostalgia.

Five came to realize that the commission was created by an alternate Five in an attempt to fix the timeline, but it was never successful since the Hargreeves siblings were the root of the problem.

"I have to get back." Five turned, rushing out the door. He heard the alternate versions of himself begin to speak, but his overwhelming thoughts drowned it out.

Five ran as fast as he could, getting back on the train and returning to his rightful place. With his family.

As Five entered the abandoned shell of his former home, the room's occupants turned to look at him.

The first person he noticed was you. You watched him with sad eyes, eyes he thought he would never have to gaze into again. Yet here he was, and undeniably, he had a plan.

You watched Five scan the room. Dark hair hung in front of his eyes, his chest heaved from running, or perhaps from anxiety.

"I didn't think you'd be back." You purse your lips, giving him a sour look. '

Facing your bitterness was the hardest part of all this for Five. Of course you had every right to feel that way, he had just up and left you. Although, in his mind that was better than having to watch you die.

"Yeah, neither did I." Five muttered.

Everyone looked at him, obviously awaiting an explanation.

"We caused this." Five began.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Alison sighed.

You stared at Five intently, wondering what had changed since he decided to ditch you and everyone else.

"The marigold that infected our mothers bringing forth our births had a side effect, it fractured the timeline, bringing forth the end of the world."

Five looked from person to person, attempting to read everyone's emotions. They were unreadable.

"Extracting the marigold from our bodies is the only way to stop the cleanse, and in short, fix the timeline."

Silence settled over the room. You weren't born with marigold as the Hargreeves were, but due to Ben's antics, this now concerns you too.

"Okay, but how exactly do we do that?" Diego asked.

Five looked over to Viktor.

"Viktor, you can use your powers to extract the Marigold from our bodies. Unfortunately Ben and Jennifer are too far gone to be saved, but their sacrifice will have been for the greater good."

Viktor let out an elongated sigh, and with little to no hesitation, he agreed.

"Okay, let's get moving before it's too late." Viktor said, speeding out of the room.

You followed closely behind, trying your hardest to avoid Five's gaze.

"Y/N, I-" You cut him off, this was not the time to be talking about all the mistakes he had made. Even if those mistakes led to the answer for all your troubles, they were still mistakes.

"We can talk about this later, if there is one."

Five sighed and watched you exit the room, not even bothering to look his way. He had fucked up big time.

You watched Viktor head towards the monster that was Ben and Jennifer. The creature growled, as it hurdled towards your group.

You turned back as you felt someone grab your arm, Five was standing behind you. You saw something in him that you had only seen a few times before, fear.

"Please. If we don't make it through this I want to make sure we're okay." Five begged for your forgiveness.

In any other circumstance you would not have given in this easily, but the dire situation has just begun to settle in. This could be it.

Neither of you wanted to leave this world with so many words unsaid.

Your gaze softened, and you followed Five away from the other Hargreeve's.

"I know what I did was wrong. With every bone in my body I feel that it was wrong."

He spoke loudly enough to drown out the oncoming chaos, but softly enough to omit any sort of aggression.

Five reached for your hands, and you reluctantly let him take them.

Five paused for a moment, trying to find the words that would mean the most, considering he was dealing with limited time.

"My worst fear is to see you suffer, and at the time, running away seemed like my only escape. I feel like I've already caused so much hardship in your life, and the thought of any more terrified me." His eyes stayed glued to you.

Five was the whole reason you had joined The Commission to begin with. He helped you to believe in a cause that you otherwise wouldn't have, and the two of you hadn't left each other's side since.

You didn't regret it per say, but you couldn't deny that you often wished for a different life. You would never blame any of your circumstances on Five though, and you hated how he always chose to blame himself.

"Nothing that has happened to me, or to anyone, is your fault. I think all of us share some responsibility, but blaming yourself is just wrong." You squeezed Five's clammy hands.

Five let out a sigh of relief as he was able to recognize forgiveness in your eyes.

"I love you." He said, fighting the tears that began to form in the corners of his eyes. The phrase was reserved only for you, as it is a concept that has always been hard for five.

Growing up with Reginald as a father, and a family that could win an Olympic gold medal in dysfunctionality, Five didn't exactly have a positive outlook on love.

"I love you too. We've been through worse, we'll get through this too."

Five pulled you into a tight hug, breathing you in as if it was the last chance he would ever get to hold you. The two of you were versed in the end of the world, this was not the first final hug you had shared. Five placed a soft kiss on the top of your head, and he didn't miss the small cry that escaped your lips.

You rarely cried, and when you did it was always around Five. He was the only person you felt comfortable enough with to show vulnerability. It was the perfect moment, and the past few days had worn down your patience. You reluctantly let a few tears slip loose.

"Get your asses over here love birds, Ben is here." Diego called from the other side of the room.

You and Five exchanged a look before running over to the center of the room and rejoining your family.

Ben growled ferociously, the red goo that dripped from his body falling around the room.

"Just so you guys know, I have no idea what the hell I'm doing. So if we all die, I apologize in advance." Viktor said, clenching his fists on either side.

His newly improved orange power began to swirl around his body. He squeezed his eyes shut, clearly focusing on the task at hand.

You reached for Five's hand, interlocking your fingers with his. If these were to be your last moments, you wanted to make sure he was with you.

Five gripped your hand with everything he had in him, every bit of strength was to remind you of his presence.

With each moment that passed, the colorful plume of Viktor's powers grew, encasing not only Ben and Jennifer, but all of you.

You and Five watched as the all too familiar gold marigold specks began to float through the air. It felt odd, it didn't hurt, but it wasn't a particularly pleasant feeling. It was like your whole body was being poked by a prickly cactus.

The air turned cold, and all other sounds were overcome by the rumbling of Viktor's power.

An unbearable wave of exhaustion washed over you, and it became hard for you to keep your eyes open.

You looked over at Five, making eye contact with him one last time. He gave you his signature smirk, funny how in spite of everything he could still be himself.

The last thing you saw was Ben falling to the floor, the marigold protruding from him filling the whole room with a deep yellow glow.

And just like that, the world turned black.

· · ─────── ·☂· ─────── · ☂ · ─────── ·☂· ─────── · ·

Five opened his eyes, the bright light of day overwhelming his vision. The ground beneath him was soft, the tall grass tickling his fingertips.

Five sat up slowly, his eyes adjusting to the sun. He looked over next to him, and there you were. Just as you had always been, right by his side. Your chest rose slowly, a thankful sign that you were still alive.

Five looked beyond you, to see his siblings all scattered around the lawn. They were all exactly where they had been before the blackout. The empty patch of grass, of course, was where the Hargreeve's mansion used to stand.

Without the existence of their powers, The Umbrella Academy was never formed. It was strange, to know that what Five remembered, no one else did. It was like waking up from a strange dream.

However, one thing was missing, Ben. And of course Jennifer. Five wasn't surprised that they hadn't made it, considering how their bodies were overtaken.

Five watched as his siblings slowly began to rise from their temporary comas, their eyes heavy and glazed over.

Five nudged you slightly. Unable to wait for you to wake, wanting to share this beautiful moment with you.

You opened your eyes and felt as if you had awoken from a decades long slumber. The first thing you saw was Five next to you, a genuine smile on his face. That was something you had missed.

"Are we in heaven?" Klaus mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"Well if this was heaven, I'd be awfully disappointed." Lila replied.

You laughed to yourself, and stood up on wobbly legs.

You all had done it.

"Viktor. I think you might have just saved the world." Luther announced.

Viktor smiled and looked down, maybe eventually he'd let himself take the credit.

You began to take in your surroundings. The sound of traffic in the distance, the wind stinging your cheek, the smell of spring air. It was all so normal.

"Guys, where's Ben?" Klaus asked, and your heart dropped.

"Klaus...we all knew he probably wouldn't make it.." Alison said sadly.

Just then, something caught your eye. Something yellow that stuck out in the patch of green.

"Guys, look!" You pointed at the unique plant.

"Marigolds." Five said softly, and you felt his hand close around yours.

Two beautiful yellow flowers sprouted from the earth, a reminder of what was sacrificed. A reminder of what had to happen for all of this to exist, and a symbol of hope.

~~ Two Years Later ~~

You awoke to the sound of birds chirping outside your window, a song that was often your wake-up call. You rolled over to see Five sleeping peacefully next to you. You weren't surprised. He always slept late, after all, he was an old man at heart.

It had been two years of living freely in the new timeline. You and Five now share an apartment next to Lila and Diego and their three kids.

Life wasn't without its challenges, but compared to everything else the two of you had been through this was paradise.

Viktor had started his own Cafe, a small shop on a street corner that had quickly become a local favorite.

Alison had landed a big movie role not long after everything returned to normal. Ever since it hit the big screen, she had no problem with job offers. She didn't even miss her power of persuasion.

Klaus still lives with Alison. He doesn't really do anything specific, he often refers to himself as 'self-employed'. But he was happy, and that was all that really mattered.

Luther had somehow reconnected with Sloane, who had re-appeared after the timeline was fixed. Of course she didn't remember anything, but it must've been fate because they got to fall in love all over again.

Diego decided to put his skills acquired from his power to use and now taught axe throwing classes.

Lila had decided to help people who had ended up in a mental hospital, similar to how she had. She was working on getting her degree in psychology.

As for you and Five. Five kept his CIA job, and you decided to join him in his career. As the two of you had always done everything together, why not this too?

You felt Five stir next to you, letting out a series of groans. He slowly opened his eyes, a smile spreading across his face the moment he saw you.

"Good morning, beautiful." His morning voice is thick and deep.

"I love you." You whispered, pushing his messy hair out of his eyes.

Five leaned up to kiss you but you counteracted it by jumping out of bed. You pulled the blanket off of him and he whined in protest.

"Time to get up, Gramps, Lila wants us to drive the kids to school today."

Five rolled his eyes at the nickname. You snickered and kissed him on the cheek before heading to the bathroom to get ready.

After the two of you grabbed breakfast, you met Lila outside, Grace and the twins behind her.

"Thank you again for helping us out with this, I don't know how I'd ever get to work on time without you." Lila gave you a quick hug.

"Of course, whatever you need." You ushered her away, signaling that you could take it from here.

You were used to driving the kids places, and they always said you were their favorite aunt. Five however, could not surpass Klaus for favorite uncle.

"Alright guys, who's ready for school?" You said as you jumped in the driver's seat.

There was a chorus of enthusiastic cheers from the back, and you laughed.

"I was never that excited about school when I was your age." The kids had no idea how long ago that actually was for you.

You made sure to put on some kid friendly music, anything but Baby Shark. You dropped the kids off and made sure they all got inside safely.

"Anything else on the schedule for today?" Five asked you.

"Nope, we're both off today so I think the rest of our day is free."

"Great, we should do absolutely nothing." Five's eyes lit up with excitement.

You nodded in agreement and drove towards your home.

Once you arrived, the both of you threw on pajamas and cuddled up in bed. Five flung his arms around you and rested his head on your shoulder, simultaneously letting out a big sigh.

"I love you." He mumbled in your ear.

Even after all these years he still made you blush every time he said those three little words.

"I love you more." You pressed a kiss to Five's nose and he scrunched it up before responding with a chaste kiss to your lips.

After breaking apart you and Five settled into each other's arms, excited to spend a calm day together.

He reached for the remote and flicked on the TV. The small kiss he placed on your forehead didn't go unnoticed.

As Five settled into this new life, he found it hard not to expect a new life altering crisis to pop up at any moment. But it never did.

As the day dragged on, nothing out of the ordinary happened; and you could almost say that it was an ordinary day.

Taglist: @xreader-writing @dorkyfangirl24 @dinorawrss @anne-oop @ladynaviamin @i-amtrash @patchesofdreams @sarbear33 @marinalor

[happy74827]

hey pookieeee, how about mike and reader are like new to dating and mike just got his job at freddy’s fazbears pizzeria as night guard. and he has trouble paying the bills and stuff and taking care for abby. and reader is like lemme help you. and mikes like no i got it. just rlly angsty to fluff? if you get what i mean? thanks xo

Resolute Hearts

[Mike Schmidt x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: All you wanted to do was to save him from drowning.

WC: 2883

Category: Angst to Fluff, Happy Ending

I absolutely adored this request. I hope you were serious about the angst, because it is there and it is heavy 🫠

『••✎••』

Tears…that's all you could feel. You felt them running down your cheeks, and you could feel your lips trembling as you sat on the tile floor, hugging your knees to your chest. The surrounding air was thick, a suffocating feeling. It was hard to breathe. Your head felt light, and your vision was a blur. You took in deep, shaky breaths, trying to hold back the sobs you desperately wanted to let out.

You never thought you would feel this way. It was like everything you had worked for your entire life had fallen through. It was like nothing meant anything to you anymore. Your life, your family, your friends. They didn't mean anything to you. You didn't care about them. You were alone, and the only person you cared about didn't seem to care about you back.

The apartment was dark and quiet. You sat in the bathroom, the door locked, the lights off, the fan running to block the sound of your tears. Your roommate had left hours before, saying she had an early morning class. You didn't know why they even had classes so early in the morning.

It felt like decades had gone by since you sat there on the bathroom floor. The bathroom tiles were cold and uncomfortable. You were cold and uncomfortable. You didn't feel like yourself. You weren't the type to get so worked up about anything. You weren't the type to sit on a bathroom floor and cry over things you couldn't fix. You were the type to keep your head held high. To smile through everything, even if the situation was tough. To be the rock for your friends to lean on.

But, you felt alone. You felt so alone.

Michael, Mike. Michael was the one who made you feel alone. You loved him. God, you loved him more than anything. You loved him so much. You loved how caring he was. How sweet he could be. How considerate he was. You loved every inch of him and every inch of what he did for you. He was so considerate of your feelings; he never pushed you to do things you weren't ready for. So, why did his words hurt you so much? Why did his actions make you feel so small and worthless?

Why?

It had only been a few months since you started dating, and everything seemed to be perfect. He was charming, sweet, and an all-around amazing guy. You were so happy with him. He was everything you wanted in a boyfriend, and you were over the moon with how everything was going. He even seemed to care for you; at least, that's what you thought.

He had been distant for the past few weeks. You found yourself seeing Abby more often than you did Mike. You would wake up, and he wouldn't be there, only to find him passed out on the couch or working on a late project in the kitchen.

He said he was fine, but you knew he wasn't. You could tell he wasn't okay. You knew something was bothering him, but he never opened up to you about what it was. You thought about telling him it was okay. That he could talk to you about anything, he didn't need to keep it bottled up. He didn't need to worry you like that.

You did eventually open your mouth to say something about how he was feeling, but before you could even get the words out, he shut you down. He said he was fine that you were overreacting. That you needed to worry about yourself more and stop thinking about his feelings all the time. You just needed to trust him.

You believed him. You foolishly believed him until it all came crashing down. During one of your many late nights babysitting Abby for him, you accidentally stumbled upon papers that he left on the coffee table. One of which was a delinquency notice dated back to last week. He was behind on rent and had a couple of other bills that were due soon. You didn't want to add to his stress, so you figured it wouldn't hurt to try and help him with those.

Apparently, it did hurt. It hurt enough to make him snap at you when you decided to approach him the night before about it. Abby was tucked into bed in her room for the night, so you decided it would be a good opportunity to talk to him just as he was about to leave. How stupid you were. How naive. You didn't know what he was going to say, but you had no idea he was going to get so angry. So angry, in fact, that it ended up waking Abby up.

You felt your stomach churn at the memory of his voice getting louder, your name getting harsher, the tone of his words getting angrier.

"I said I can take care of myself, just like I've always done." He was livid, his face red with anger. He was trying to keep his cool, but it seemed that it was just too much for him. "Why do you have to get involved? Just butt out, alright?"

"I just want to help, Mike. You shouldn't have to pay for everything on your own. I just want to be there for you, like you are for me," you said, reaching out for his hands, but he pulled away from you.

"I don't need you to take care of me. I can handle this on my own. I've been doing this on my own for a long time," he told you, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn't want to be touched, you could tell.

"You're right," you admitted. "You're an adult; you've been taking care of yourself for a long time, and I shouldn't try to change that. But I'm here, okay? I'm here for you and for Abby. And I'm not trying to take care of you; I'm just trying to help you. Just let me help you."

"What the hell do you think this is?!" Mike practically screamed at you. "You think this is easy?! You think I don't want to get out of debt, huh? Do you think I like being in debt? I don't! But it's my fault, and it's my job to take care of it!"

"Mike, calm down! Abby is sleeping in the next—" You tried to reason with him, but he didn't want to hear any of it. He was too mad. He was too angry. He turned and grabbed his car keys, turning back to look at you, the hurt and anger evident in his eyes.

"Abby isn't your concern; she's my responsibility. She's my sister, not yours. You're just—" Mike stopped himself, not wanting to say the next thing that came to his head. But you were right there, in front of him, looking up at him with eyes full of hurt. You were so close, so close he could see the tears glistening in your eyes.

“I'm just… what, Mike?" You asked him, your voice hitching. The tears that you had been holding back began to fall. You were at a breaking point; you didn't know how to feel anymore. You didn't know what you were feeling. All you knew was that your boyfriend just screamed at you and hurt you with his words.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and looked over your shoulder to see Abby standing there. She looked up at her brother with wide eyes and a confused expression. She looked from Mike to you, then to her hand that was on your shoulder. You felt numb. You couldn't believe what was happening.

"Abby…" Mike took a deep breath. "Abby, go back to bed, okay? I'll be back soon." He gave her a soft smile. The one he always gave you when you needed it. She looked up at him, giving him the same sad look she was giving you. She rubbed her eyes and walked back into her room, closing the door behind her. Mike turned his attention back to you, but he didn't say anything. He looked like he had more to say, but the words just didn't come out.

And that was the last time you saw him.

You spent the next couple of hours curled up on the floor, crying until you couldn't cry anymore. You tried to sleep in the own comfort of your bed, but every time you closed your eyes, you would see his face. His angry face. The face he made at you the last time you spoke. The face he made when he screamed at you. You hated it. You hated everything about it.

It was around six in the morning when you decided to finally leave your room. It was cold outside, but you didn't care. You needed some fresh air. You needed to get out of there for a little bit. You needed to get away from the suffocating apartment, the suffocating situation. You needed to get away from everything that reminded you of Mike. You walked down the hall to the patio, and you were almost to it when you heard the faint knock on the door.

You stood at the entrance to the living room, listening to the faint knocks. It was the first time in hours that you heard a sound other than your own voice. Your eyes were glued to the door, your hands in fists as you listened. And listened. And listened. It felt like an eternity before you finally decided to get the courage to walk up and answer it, reaching for the knob and pulling it open.

There, standing on the other side of the door, was your boyfriend. Michael was standing there, staring back at you. His face wasn't angry. He wasn't mad anymore. He didn't look sad either. He didn't look like anything at all. He looked blank, empty. Like he didn't have any emotions, his eyes were void of the emotions that you loved so much.

He wore his security vest, the little medallion dangling in front of his chest. He had his name tag attached to it, and you realized he came straight from work. He had bags under his eyes, and his hair was a mess, sticking out at the side. His posture was slouched, his shoulders hanging low. He looked exhausted. But he was there, and he was standing right in front of you like he was the one who had been waiting for so long. Like he was the one who was worried.

"Hi," he spoke quietly. He almost whispered. It was soft, and it was quiet. His voice was scratchy and dry. He was trying to smile, but he was trying so hard to force one that it hurt you to see it. You felt a sharp pain in your chest at the sight of him. "Can we… Can we talk?"

"What are you doing here, Michael? You need to be home for Abby." You felt the lump in your throat rise up as you spoke. You could feel the tears coming back to your eyes, and you knew he saw them. He was always good at seeing through you.

"I couldn't go home knowing we're not okay." He looked at you with the saddest look you had ever seen. The look made you want to cry again. You didn't want to cry anymore.

"I… I can't right now," you said, moving to close the door in front of you. "I need some time to think." You started to shut the door, but his hand was quick to stop you from closing it. He put his foot in between the door and the frame and held the door open.

"Please," he begged, practically whining. He was so desperate. You knew he was desperate. You could see it in his eyes, the way his eyebrows were furrowed, and how he was clenching his jaw. "I know I shouldn't have said what I did last night. I was just… I was just angry. I didn't mean what I said, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I don't want to lose you because of my shit."

"Mike…" you started, but he cut you off.

"I'm just not used to having someone around all the time… Having someone help me. I know I get angry easily; Fuck, I know I'm stubborn. I know that I get mad at myself a lot because I'm not perfect, but I'm trying. I really am. For the longest time, it's just been Abby and I and no one else. I never really had someone who was willing to take care of me… and I've always been fine. I'm fine." Mike shook his head. "But I don't want to be just fine anymore. I want to be happy, and I want to be happy with you."

You felt a fresh set of tears fall from your eyes. You couldn't help it. The words were too much for you to handle. The sincerity in his voice, the way he was looking at you with his big hazel eyes, and how his voice cracked as he spoke. He looked like he had more to say, but he didn't. He just looked at you. He looked like he was searching for something. And you realized it was your forgiveness. He was waiting for your forgiveness. He was waiting for you to give him another chance.

You thought about all the times he opened up to you. All the times he let you in, and you helped him out when he needed it. You thought about how he was there when you needed him to be. You thought about how he would smile at you when you needed him to, how he would make you smile even on your worst days.

"I think you owe a dollar for the swear jar, maybe more," you spoke softly, looking up at him with your red, puffy eyes. He gave you a confused look, but he soon realized what you were talking about. He chuckled as he wiped the tears from your eyes.

"Yeah, I guess I do. Sorry, Abby," he apologized, acting like he was talking to his little sister. She wasn't here right now, but you knew he still felt like he needed to apologize to her for his actions, too. He always felt the need to apologize. He felt the need to try and be a better brother. To try and be a better son. He looked at you with those big eyes of his. The same eyes you fell in love with.

"Hug?" you asked, a small smile gracing your face. You didn't know why you asked, but you did. You felt the lump in your throat slowly ease up, and you finally felt the air in your lungs start to flow. He smiled back at you, opening his arms, and you stepped into them, burying your face in his shoulder.

He pulled away and kissed your forehead, resting his on top of yours. He rubbed your back as you wrapped your arms around him. He felt safe and warm. He felt like everything that was missing.

"I still don't want you covering the debt," he told you. "But… I'll take the help. I can take the help. I'll take it as long as it's you." You could hear him smiling, and you squeezed him tighter.

"Of course. Of course."

Everything was falling back into place. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't fixed. There was still so much to work out, but it was starting to feel a little better. You felt a little better. You felt a little more whole again. The ache in your heart wasn't so bad. It was bearable, and you could finally breathe again.

"You can let go of me now." Mike's voice was muffled against the top of your head, and you realized you were squeezing him too tight.

Still, you didn't let go. "No, you're warm," you said, smiling into his chest.

He let out a small sigh, shaking his head. "Is this my punishment? Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life?"

"It could be worse. I could still be mad at you," you replied, kissing the side of his neck.

"Well, in that case," he suddenly grabbed you by your waist and hoisted you up over his shoulder. He laughed as you yelped out in surprise, flailing your limbs. You felt the world turn upside down, and you screamed as he turned and walked back inside, closing the door behind him. "Let me show you how sorry I am."

He might've ended up causing Abby to be late to school that morning, but it was okay. It was okay because you were laughing. You were smiling, and most of all, you were happy.

You were happy because even though it wasn't perfect, he was trying. He was trying to make things better for himself and for you. And for the first time in a long time, it felt like you were finally home.

[amazinglyashy]

hiii I’d like to make a request for LADS🙏

scenarios for the boys (specifically the original 3) when you meet and you’re already dating someone (maybe eventually you leave them for one of the boys). like. i can imagine raf and xav having a hard time keeping their cool about it and perhaps zayne acting the way he did in neon night since he doesn’t remember but fjdjsksm

You actually sent this a day before I got Neon Night, so I was able to reference it in real time and not look up the card on YT or anything, I'm so happy-- This was actually super fun, thank you so much for the request!! I hope you enjoy <3 (I'm gonna warn you tho, I made it a bit angsty--)

LaDS men when you're already dating someone [for now-]

Rafayel -

Rafayel is... upset.

to say the least.

He'll act rude and obnoxious to whoever it is you're dating at the time, to an uncharacteristically high level of sass and snippy comments. You have to try and ask him what's gotten into him, but he won't answer you.

Further meetings will go just as smoothly, so your current partner will just chalk up to you having an oddly rude friend.

He'll say something that comes across as weird to you at some point- a biting comment during a completely unrelated argument about how he waited so long for you, searching high and low for any trace of you returning again, and you didn't even have the courtesy to wait for him.

He'll leave angry, but he'll stand in the hallway regretting it, because he knows. He knows you don't remember him, and he can't keep faulting you for that. But damn-

It hurts.

It hurts to know that he did everything he could to find you, to protect you- to keep you safe until he could see you again. Talk to you again. Love you again.

But here you were.

Just out of reach again.

Xavier -

You're trying to handle a toddler now, not a grown man.

He's so upset, it's borderline ridiculous.

It's like any comment or conversation starter your current partner tries to toss at Xavier, it doesn't even make it out of the hangar before it's shot down.

Any attempts you make to be friendly with him are also met with snippy remarks.

He did not travel as far as he did, do every single hard thing he had up until this point- just to lose to some average every-day person who was currently enjoying holding your hand.

His jealously is through the roof.

His pouting face is actually pretty cute, though, so there's that.

After sulking for a long time, he'll start inviting you places more frequently, under the guise of wanting to hang out more as coworkers.

His actual motives are trying to make you see just how good of a partner he could be for you.

Yes he's trying to steal you out from under your current partner's feet.

Is it working...?

Sylus -

He's not surprised.

He's also not threatened.

What, was Sylus supposed to suspect that someone with no recollection of him or your previous time knowing each other would hold out for him, until you met again?

He tries his best to be a rational man, as there would be no rationality in getting upset at you for something you have no knowledge of.

He's hurt, but he also has a mild sense of confidence coating his doubts and pain.

He knows you'll come around to him eventually- it's everything that fate had destined, he'll muse jokingly to himself.

Still, he can't help a little doubt itching in his subconscious. He doesn't have any way of outwardly handling it, though.

He isn't the type to flaunt what he has in front of other people in order to appear better. It's gaudy to him, and shows just how little someone actually is worth if they're so desperate to put themselves above another through a dollar amount.

Treats your current partner with the same level of respect he does towards you, and shows them similar levels of care.

They make you happy, and he doesn't want that ever taken from you.

No matter how badly he wants you all to himself.

Zayne -

If it bothers him, you would never be able to tell.

Always the epitome of kindness and civility no matter who he's dealing with as long as they aren't unkind to those who matter to him- namely you- the person you're dating is treated no differently.

That is, as long as they're treating you properly.

He's no overprotective psychopath, but he does have his own concerns given some of the patients he has treated in the past. As long as certain basic criteria are met, he doesn't see any issue with it.

Still he's... a bit sad.

He blames himself wholeheartedly, for going away for so long. For leaving you alone. It's his own fault for missing his chance with you, and while somewhere deep inside of him is praying on your current partner's downfall- it's a very small portion in the back of his mind. Something dark he'll never truly humor.

He wants you to be happy, above anything else. Above personal feelings, his own wishes, anything. And if your current partner is making you happy, then that's all he could ever wish for.

Even through the sting.

He's happy as long as you are.

[queenofwands89]

The Storm Within (Part Two)  Tyler Owens x fem!reader

Part 1

Summary: Following the events of the first part, a severely injured Y/N lies in a coma while a heartbroken Tyler waits by her side, wondering if she will ever wake up.

Warnings: Hospital, Reader is in a coma, Fluff, Sad Tyler, Slightly angsty.                                              

Notes: I didn't expect so many people to read the first part, let alone want a second, so thank you—it means a lot. I rushed to write this to avoid making you wait any longer, lol. I'm currently accepting writing prompts for Jake Seresin, Tyler Owens, and Glen Powell.

Enjoy byeeee!

Two weeks have slipped by in a blur of sterile hospital corridors and the endless hum of medical machines. Each passing day is a battle against time, unrelenting in its indifference, and Tyler's world has shrunk to the confines of your hospital room.

Tyler sits by your side, his eyes heavy with exhaustion but refusing to close. He's lost count of the hours he's spent watching the rise and fall of your chest, willing you to wake up. The constant beeping of the heart monitor and the rhythmic hiss of the ventilator are his only companions.

The rest of the storm-chasing team visits regularly, each holding onto hope in their own way. Boone leaves a fresh bouquet of wildflowers on the bedside table every other day, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the clinical white of the room. Dani brings her laptop, working quietly in the corner, refusing to leave until Tyler is forced to rest. Dexter makes sure Tyler eats, even if it means feeding him himself. And Lilly, with her unwavering optimism, often slips into the chair opposite Tyler, regaling him with stories and laughs to keep the darkness at bay.

One evening, as the crimson hues of the setting sun penetrate the blinds, Tyler is gently persuaded by Lilly to step outside the room, if only for a few minutes. The fresh air at the hospital's small garden is a reprieve he didn’t know he needed. He takes deep breaths, trying to shake off the weight that's settled on his shoulders.

As he walks back towards your room, he overhears a hushed conversation between two nurses. "It's been two weeks, and she's still fighting. It's remarkable," he hears one of them say. A glimmer of hope ignites in his chest. You're a fighter; you always have been.

Pushing open the door to your room, Tyler's heart skips a beat. One of the doctors, Dr. Emerson, is standing by your bed, reviewing the latest results. Tyler rushes in, anxiety and hope warring on his face.

"Any changes, Doc?" Tyler asks, his voice barely a whisper.

Dr. Emerson turns to him, a small, comforting smile on her face. "Her vitals are steadily improving. The brain activity shows promising signs. She's still in a coma, but these are good indicators. It’s just a matter of time."

With those reassuring words, Dr. Emerson gives Tyler a gentle nod before turning to leave the room, the other doctor following closely behind. The soft click of the closing door lingers in the air, marking the transition from clinical observation to personal vigil.

Tyler takes his seat beside you, gently holding your hand. "Hey, beautiful," he begins, his voice soft but steady. "I know you can hear me. I thought I'd share some stories, like old times."

He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "Remember the first storm we chased together? God, we were terrified but so exhilarated," he chuckles. "The sky was this angry shade of gray, and the wind was howling like it was possessed. We had no idea what we were doing, but we felt invincible."

Tyler's eyes glisten with unshed tears as he continues. "You kept yelling at me to keep the camera steady while you took notes. I think I was too busy being amazed by how fearless you were. The tornado touched down so close, and we got caught in the downdraft. But you... you never lost your cool. You guided us out of there like it was just another day at the office."

He squeezes your hand gently, hoping for any sign of acknowledgment. "Then there was that time in Kansas. Do you remember? We were staying at that run-down motel, and the power went out during the middle of the night. We ended up sitting in the car, wrapped in blankets, watching the lightning storm. You said it was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen. I couldn't take my eyes off you."

The corners of Tyler's lips lift into a sad smile as he recounts more memories. "You were always the brave one, Y/N. Like that time we drove into the eye of the storm. Literally. Everyone told us it was too dangerous, but you convinced us, and we did it. And I'll never forget the look on your face when we made it out in one piece."

A silence hangs in the air for a moment, the only sounds coming from the steady beeps and hums of the medical equipment.

"I'm not gonna lie, Y/N. These past two weeks have been the hardest of my life. Seeing you like this... it's killing me. But I know you're fighting. You always do," Tyler says, voice cracking with emotion.

Tyler leans closer, his head resting on the side of your bed. He speaks softly, almost to himself. "You know, Dani was telling me about how you kept her sane during her first storm chase. She said she wouldn't have made it if it weren't for you. And Boone, he's a mess without you bossing him around. Dexter too. None of us are the same without you."

He looks at your serene face, a fresh wave of determination washing over him. "But we all believe in you. We know you're coming back to us. And when you do, we'll be ready with stories and laughs and everything that's been missing."

As the sun sets outside, casting a warm glow over the room, Tyler continues to talk. He recounts every little detail of your adventures together, from the funniest moments to the most heart-stopping ones, painting a vivid picture with his words.

The world is a foggy blur as consciousness slowly begins to seep back into your mind. The silence in the room is broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the medical machines. Your eyelids feel heavy as you struggle to open them, a sense of disorientation clouding your thoughts.

As your eyes finally flutter open, the dim light of the room gradually sharpens into focus. The first thing you see is Tyler, slumped in the chair beside your hospital bed. His hand grips yours tightly, as if even in sleep, he cannot let go. His face is etched with lines of stress and fatigue, evidence of the nights he has spent by your side.

For a few moments, you simply watch him. Even in his exhausted state, there’s an undeniable tenderness in the way he holds your hand. You notice the dark circles under his eyes, the stubble that has grown from days of neglecting himself. Deep down, an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love wells up within you. You realize now more than ever just how much he means to you.

Gradually, you muster the strength to give his hand a weak squeeze, something to pull him from the depths of his weariness. His eyes flutter open slowly, confusion briefly crossing his features before they lock onto yours. Instantly, his face transforms—a mix of shock, awe, and profound relief.

"Y/N..." he breathes, his voice shaky and filled with emotion. Tears pool in his eyes, and you can see him fighting to hold them back, but it’s a losing battle. As the realization washes over him, that you’re finally awake, his tears begin to fall freely. "You’re... you’re awake. Thank God, you’re awake."

A lump forms in your throat, making it hard to speak, but you manage a small smile. "Tyler," you rasp, the single word carrying all the emotions you can't yet express.

He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing fervent kisses to your knuckles. "I love you, Y/N. I love you so much," he chokes out, his voice breaking with raw emotion. "I thought... I thought I’d lost you. I’m so sorry, Y/N. For everything. For the things I said. I was scared and I handled it all wrong."

You can feel the wetness of his tears on your hand, and it breaks your heart to see him in such pain. Gathering what strength you can, you shake your head slightly. "No, Tyler. We both did things we regret. I pushed you away when I should have let you in. But we can’t change the past. We can only move forward."

He nods, his teary eyes never leaving yours. "We’ll fix this. Together," he vows, his voice filled with a newfound determination.

Your smile grows a bit stronger, as you grip his hand with a bit more strength. "Together," you echo, the word binding the two of you in a promise of unity and hope.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," Tyler repeats fervently, his tears now mingling with a relieved laugh.

You can't help but let out a light giggle, the sound so sweet to Tyler’s ears. "I love you, I love you, I love you," you reply, your heart feeling lighter for the first time in a long while.

Tyler chuckles softly, his expression softening as he looks at you. "I think the doctors are going to start charging me rent for how long I've been here."

You laugh weakly, the sound like music to his ears. "Well, as long as you don't start claiming squatter's rights. We might have to evict you."

His laughter mingles with yours, the room now filled with a warmth and happiness that seemed impossible just moments ago. "Deal. I'll leave when you do," he declares, his voice brimming with love and commitment.

The path to recovery will undoubtedly be long and arduous, but for now, the hardest part is over. The heavy cloud of uncertainty has lifted, replaced by a glimmering beacon of hope. The room, once cold and sterile, now feels warm, filled with the palpable power of your mutual love and commitment.

As the rhythmic beeping of the machines continues to fill the background, you and Tyler share a moment of silent understanding, knowing that whatever challenges lie ahead, you’ll face them hand in hand. "I love you," he whispers once more, the promise of these words a soothing balm to your soul.

"I love you," you whisper back, sealing the bond that will carry you through the days to come.

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ʀᴏᴍᴇs ʀᴜʟᴇ

⤷ Credits: Pinterest

Marcus Acacius x Wife!reader | WC : 10k | Proof read : NO | Navigation | Notifications | asks : OPEN | Under a False Alter

Summary: The deeper levels of both you and Marcus are revealed to one another

Warnings: DUB-CON (Forced/Arranged marriage), ANGSTY, gladiator battles, gore, blood, PTSD, scars, injury, corrupt people, exploitation

A/n: Hey everyone, the new part is finally posted! I've been really busy lately. For those who don't know, I'm a teaching assistant and I also coach cheer and dance at our school. I've been busy getting stuff done for that, so sorry for the wait. Please enjoy! P.S. Sorry, I didn't have time to proofread. (i combined your asks in my own way but sadly there no smut @theamunsonsworld?)

The last day of your honeymoon dawned with a soft, golden light that bathed the villa in gentle warmth. As you and Marcus made your way back to your father's villa in a horse-drawn carriage, the rhythmic clatter of the wheels on the cobblestones filled the silence. Marcus watched the passing scenery, his eyes distant and thoughtful.

Breaking the silence, Marcus turned to you, his brow furrowed. "You know," he began, his tone serious, "when your father brought up that ridiculous expectation over dinner, I had to stop myself from laughing."

You looked at him, surprised. "Laughing? Why?"

"Because," Marcus said, leaning back against the cushioned seat, "the idea that we could just decide to have a child on a whim as if it were that simple, is absurd. Your father lives in a world of his own making sometimes."

You let out a bitter laugh, the weight of the conversation settling in. "He’s always been like that—demanding, controlling. It’s as if he forgets I’m a person, not just a means to an end."

Marcus nodded, a sympathetic look in his eyes. "The expectations of Rome can be suffocating. But we can try to live differently, take our time, even find ways to see your mother."

A spark of hope flickered within you. "It sounds wonderful, but it feels like a distant dream."

Marcus shifted closer, his voice firm yet gentle. "It doesn’t have to be. We can make it a reality, bit by bit."

Your gaze fell, the words heavy on your tongue. "I’ve been rebellious my whole life, Marcus. But the truth is, as a woman, I have no choice. I’m trapped in these roles."

His hand found yours again, squeezing gently. "You’ve always had a fire in you. That spirit is what drew me to you."

A wave of emotions crashed over you, frustration mingling with gratitude. "Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it. Fighting, resisting, when it feels like nothing ever changes."

"You’ve already changed so much," Marcus reassured you. "And together, we can push further. We can find ways to see your mother. She deserves to know you’re thinking of her."

Your heart ached with longing, the image of your mother vivid in your mind. "I want that more than anything. To have her back in my life, even if only for a while."

Marcus smiled, his expression softening. "We’ll figure it out. Maybe we can travel under the guise of visiting trade routes or exploring new markets. There’s always a way."

You looked at him, a smile breaking through despite everything. "You always find the silver lining, don’t you?"

He chuckled, his eyes bright. "Someone has to. Besides, it’s easier with you by my side."

You felt a surge of gratitude for Marcus, for his understanding and support. "Thank you, Marcus. For everything."

He smiled softly, his eyes filled with warmth. "We're in this together. No matter what happens, we'll face it together."

As the silence settled between you, Marcus’s gaze turned contemplative. "Have you ever thought about having kids? I mean, not now, but in the future."

You blinked, slightly taken aback by the question. "Kids? I suppose I have, but not for a long time. I'm only eighteen, Marcus. There's so much I want to do first."

Marcus nodded, understanding but curious. "What do you want to do before that?"

You sighed, the weight of your dreams pressing against the confines of your reality. "I want to see the world, and experience things beyond the confines of my father's estate. I want to spend time with my mother, and really get to know her again. And... I want to build something with you, something that’s ours, without the shadow of my family's expectations hanging over us."

Marcus's curiosity was piqued. "An addition?"

You nodded, a determined look in your eyes. "I want us to live in the villa. The one where we honeymooned and where I spent my childhood. It holds so many memories, and it's the one place that feels like home to me."

Marcus's expression softened. "The villa? That place is beautiful. I can see why you'd want to make it our home."

"It's more than just beautiful," you explained. "It's where I felt happiest, where my mother and I had some of our best times before everything fell apart. It feels like a safe haven, and I want to create new, happy memories there with you."

He squeezed your hand, his eyes searching yours. "And you think having kids would interfere with that?"

"Not interfere, exactly," you clarified, trying to articulate your feelings. "It's just... I want to be ready. I want to be in a place where I feel secure and happy, where I know I can give them the love and stability they deserve. And right now, I'm not there yet. We’re not there yet."

Marcus tilted his head, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "So, you're saying you need more time to figure things out? Typical."

You narrowed your eyes at him, a playful glint in your gaze. "And what's that supposed to mean, exactly?"

He chuckled, his laugh a warm, familiar sound. "Just that you're always planning, always thinking ahead. Sometimes, I think you should just live in the moment a little more."

You huffed, a mock frown forming on your face. "Oh, and I suppose you're the expert on living in the moment?"

"Absolutely," he said with a grin, leaning back and folding his arms behind his head. "I am the very definition of spontaneous."

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a smile. "Right, because nothing says 'spontaneous' like planning out our every move on this journey."

"Hey, that was different," he defended, though his eyes twinkled with amusement. "I was being responsible, making sure we didn't end up stranded in the middle of nowhere."

You shook your head, laughing softly. "You know, sometimes I think you just like arguing with me."

He leaned forward, his expression turning serious but his eyes still warm. "Maybe I do. But only because I care about you. And I want to make sure we're on the same page about our future."

You softened, feeling the sincerity in his words. "I know, Marcus. And I appreciate it. I really do. We'll get there, together. But right now, I need to focus on the present, on getting my mother to the villa and figuring out our next steps."

Marcus nodded, his expression resolute. "Then that's what we'll do. Together."

The carriage came to a halt after the long journey. You were back at your father’s palace. The first person in your line of sight was Aurelia, standing tall and poised beside your father. Her presence always brought a mixture of emotions—resentment, bitterness, and a grudging respect for her unyielding confidence. Your father, ever the imposing figure, stood with his arms crossed, a stern expression on his face.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as Marcus helped you down from the carriage. His hand was a reassuring anchor in the sea of emotions swirling inside you. Your mind raced with thoughts—fear, anticipation, and a deep-seated dread. The memory of the villa, your mother's isolation, and your father's control weighed heavily on you. And now, the nagging worry that you might not be pregnant gnawed at your insides. You had to face them both with a facade of calm.

Marcus’s grip on your hand tightened slightly as you approached your father and Aurelia. He had always been your guide, your support, and now was no different. His presence gave you the strength to lift your chin and meet their gaze head-on.

“Welcome back,” your father said, his voice cold and detached. “I trust your journey was uneventful.”

“It was fine, Father,” you replied, forcing a polite smile. “Thank you for asking.”

Aurelia’s eyes glinted with a mixture of amusement and malice. “You look well,” she said, her tone dripping with false sweetness. “I’m sure the trip was good for you both.”

Before you could respond, your father turned his gaze to Marcus, his eyes narrowing. “Did you manage to fulfill your duties, Marcus? I trust you took full advantage of the... solitude?”

You felt Marcus stiffen beside you, his grip on your hand tightening. “Our trip was about more than just that, Sir,” Marcus replied evenly, though you could sense the tension in his voice.

Your father wasn’t satisfied. “More than that? Do you understand the gravity of your position, Marcus? My daughter’s primary responsibility is to produce an heir. Have you been diligent in your efforts, or have you been wasting time?”

Anger flared inside you, and you stepped forward, your voice sharp. “That’s quite inappropriate, Father. Our trip was about reconnecting and planning our future.”

Your father raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Your future is already decided. You are to produce an heir. Everything else is secondary.”

Marcus intervened, his voice calm and measured. “With all due respect, Sir, building a strong foundation for our future is essential for the well-being of our potential children. It ensures they are brought into a stable and loving environment, which, in the long term, benefits your legacy.”

You bristled at your father’s invasive question, but Marcus’s reasoning was sound. Your father’s eyes flickered with a hint of consideration before hardening again. “Your pretty words won’t change the facts. An heir is needed. Quickly.”

Aurelia’s laughter cut through the air, sharp and vindictive. “Now, now, let’s not get heated. We’re all family here, aren’t we?”

You shot her a glare, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, yes, family. How could I forget?”

Aurelia continued, her tone saccharine. “Your father only wants what’s best for you. We all do.”

Marcus stepped in, his voice calm but firm. “We understand the expectations, but we also need to live our lives the way we see fit. The stability and happiness of our family should come first.”

Your father’s eyes narrowed further. “You will do as you’re told. You owe it to this family.”

The tension in the air was palpable, and you felt your frustration boiling over. “I owe this family nothing. I’ve been controlled and manipulated my entire life. I won’t stand for it any longer.”

Aurelia stepped closer, her presence imposing. “Let’s not forget our manners, dear. We all have roles to play, and you must play yours.”

Your temper flared at her condescension, the years of resentment bubbling to the surface. “And what exactly is my role, Aurelia? To be paraded around like a prize, while you sit here on your high horse?”

Aurelia’s smile was icy. “Careful, sister. Your jealousy is showing. Not everyone is cut out for greatness.”

You took a step forward, hand twitching with the urge to slap her. “Jealousy? Of you? Don’t make me laugh.”

Before you could act on your impulse, Marcus gently but firmly grasped your arm, pulling you back. “Enough,” he said quietly, his voice a mix of warning and concern.

Aurelia’s smirk widened, sensing victory. “Always the temperamental one. It’s a wonder Marcus puts up with you.”

You were about to retort when a maid hurried into the courtyard, her face pale and anxious. “My lord, my lady,” she addressed your father and Aurelia, glancing nervously at you. “I have urgent news.”

Your father’s stern expression softened slightly. “Speak.”

The maid took a deep breath. “Lady Aurelia is with child.”

Aurelia’s triumphant smile was instantaneous, and she looked at you with smug satisfaction. “Looks like I’ll be fulfilling my role just fine.”

You felt as if the ground had dropped from beneath you. The news hit you hard, a mix of emotions swirling inside you—anger, hurt, and a deep-seated fear of being overshadowed.

Your father stepped forward, his gaze heavy with expectation. “I hope to hear the same from you soon,” he said, his tone a blend of command and disappointment. “But for now, I have work to do and a marriage to finalize with your mother. We’ll speak more of this later.”

Marcus tightened his grip on your arm, sensing your rising fury. “Let’s go,” he murmured, practically dragging you away before you could lash out further.

As you walked briskly away from the courtyard, you seethed. “How dare she? How dare he?” you muttered, your mind racing with thoughts of betrayal and injustice.

Marcus slowed his pace, his expression one of deep concern. “You can’t let them get to you like this.”

“How can I not?” you shot back, your voice trembling with emotion. “She always wins, always gets the praise, and now this? And Father... he doesn’t even see me.”

Marcus stopped, turning to face you fully. “I see you. I’ve always seen you. And I love you for who you are, not for any role you’re supposed to play.”

His words were meant to comfort, but the pain of your father’s disregard and Aurelia’s gloating was too fresh, too raw. “It’s not enough,” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes. “I need to be more than just... tolerated.”

Arriving at your bedchamber, you muttered under your breath, “He wants to finalize the marriage with my mother. To bind us even more to his plans.”

Marcus closed the door behind you, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and determination. You stood there for a moment, the weight of everything crashing down on you, before the rage started to build. The anger that had been simmering all day erupted like a volcano.

“Gods, Marcus, I can’t take this anymore!” you screamed, your voice breaking with the force of your emotions. “Every single thing he does, every decision he makes, it’s all about control. He treats us like pawns, like we’re nothing more than pieces on his chessboard!”

Marcus watched you, his face stoic, but his eyes were full of understanding. He knew you needed to get it all out, to release the torrent of fury that had been building for so long.

You began to pace the room, your hands clenched into fists. “He wants nothing to do with my mother, and now he’s probably scheming to marry her off to some other noble. It’s like she’s just another tool to be used! And Aurelia—gods, I hate her. She’s always gloating, always scheming. She thinks she can replace my mother and secure her own power. And now, she’s pregnant before me. Pregnant! Not that I want to be pregnant, but she’s doing it just to spite me, just to rub it in my face!”

Your movements became more erratic, your pacing more frantic. “And my mother, what will happen to her? She’ll be left with nothing. Nothing! While Aurelia parades around, acting like she owns everything. She’s pregnant, Marcus, and everyone will fawn over her, praise her, while I’m just... just here. Expected to play a role, to be a good little pawn in his game.”

You stopped pacing abruptly, turning to Marcus with fire in your eyes. “And do you know what I want? I just want to be with you. I want to fuck my new husband without having to think about heirs and duties and all this... this bullshit! Is that so much to ask?”

Tears of pure rage welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. You wiped them away furiously, refusing to let them fall. “I hate him, Marcus. I hate the way he makes me feel, the way he manipulates everything to suit his own needs. And I hate that I feel so powerless against him.”

Marcus stepped closer, his hands outstretched, but you waved him off, needing to continue venting. “And it’s not just him. It’s everything. The way Aurelia gloats, the way the servants look at me with pity, the endless expectations and demands. I can’t even breathe without feeling like I’m disappointing someone. It’s suffocating!”

Your voice broke as you continued, the tears finally spilling over. But they weren’t tears of sadness—they were tears of anger, of frustration, of sheer, unadulterated fury. “I’m so tired of feeling trapped, of feeling like I’m not good enough. I want to live my own life, make my own choices. I want to be free, Marcus. Is that too much to ask?”

You turned to him, your chest heaving with the effort of releasing all your pent-up anger. Marcus stepped forward and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. You resisted at first, but then you let yourself sink into his embrace, the fury still burning inside you but tempered by his presence.

“I love you,” Marcus whispered, his voice steady and calm. “I love you for who you are, not for who you’re supposed to be. You’re not alone in this. We’ll find a way.”

His words were few, but they were like a balm to your raging soul. You clung to him, letting the tears flow freely now, your body shaking with the force of your emotions. “I just want to be free,” you whispered, your voice broken but determined.

Marcus held you tighter, his hand gently stroking your hair. “We will be,” he promised. “We’ll find a way to break free from all of this. Together.”

You cried into his shoulder, your tears soaking his shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind. He just held you, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions. Slowly, the fury began to ebb, replaced by a weary resolve.

“We’ll get through this,” Marcus said softly, his voice full of conviction. “One step at a time. And we won’t let him win. Not now, not ever.”

You nodded against his shoulder, the fire inside you still burning but now directed towards a purpose. “We’ll fight,” you agreed, your voice steadying. “We’ll fight for our freedom, for our future. Together.”

Marcus pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hands. “Together,” he echoed, his eyes full of love and determination.

You took a deep breath, feeling a new sense of resolve. The road ahead would be difficult, but you were ready to face it. With Marcus by your side, you knew you could overcome anything. And you would—no matter what it took.

As you pulled back from Marcus, your eyes met his, and you felt a flicker of hope. But then reality crashed back in. “But what if things don’t change, Marcus? What if life in Rome is just more of the same? More schemes, more manipulation?”

Marcus sighed his brow furrowing in thought. “Life in Rome will have its challenges, no doubt. The politics, the power plays—it won’t be easy. But we’ll navigate it together. We’ve faced worse before, and we’ve come out stronger.”

The truth of his words resonated with you, but the anger still simmered beneath the surface. “I just wish we didn’t have to play these games. I want to live, Marcus. Really live.”

He nodded, his expression serious. “And we will. We’ll find moments of peace, places where we can be ourselves. Just like the beach. We’ll make our own freedom, carve out our own happiness. It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside you. “I’m just so tired of fighting. Tired of always being on edge.”

Marcus pulled you close again, his embrace strong and reassuring. “I know. But you’re not alone in this fight. We’ll face it together, and we’ll find a way to create the life we want. No matter what it takes.”

You leaned into his embrace, feeling a mix of exhaustion and determination. The road ahead was uncertain, but with Marcus by your side, you felt a glimmer of hope. Together, you would face whatever challenges came your way, and together, you would find a way to break free from the chains that bound you.

“My lord, there’s—” the guard started, but you pulled away from Marcus, not wanting anyone to see you so vulnerable.

“What is it?” you snapped, your voice sharp.

The guard hesitated, clearly taken aback by your tone. “There’s a situation in the courtyard. Your father demands your presence immediately.”

You exchanged a worried glance with Marcus before standing. “Fine. Tell him we’re coming.”

As the guard left, you turned to Marcus, your earlier anger rekindling. “This never ends, does it? He won’t even let me have a moment of peace.”

Marcus squeezed your hand, his touch reassuring. “We’ll handle it. Together.”

As you walked with Marcus toward the courtyard, the weight of unspoken words hung between you. Your frustration bubbled up, manifesting in a sharp, sarcastic tone. “Another grand announcement from my dear father. How thrilling.”

Marcus squeezed your hand gently, trying to calm the storm inside you. “We’ll face it together.”

In the courtyard, your father stood at the center, flanked by Aurelia and a handful of stern-faced servants. His piercing gaze locked onto you and Marcus as you approached.

“Well, isn’t this just a picture-perfect family moment?” you said, your voice dripping with irony.

Your father’s expression hardened. “Enough. This is a matter of utmost importance.”

You sighed, preparing for yet another lecture, but your father’s voice turned icy and commanding. “We’ve received correspondence from the Emperor. He demands your and Marcus’s presence at the palace immediately.”

Marcus’s calm demeanor shattered as he took the letter from your father’s outstretched hand. His face paled as he read the contents.

“What does it say?” you asked, trying to peek over his shoulder. But Marcus remained silent, his eyes fixed on the letter, brows furrowed in concern.

Your father’s voice cut through the tense silence. “You are to leave at dawn. Be prepared.”

Marcus nodded stiffly. “We will.”

As you turned to leave, Aurelia’s mocking tone echoed behind you. “Do try not to disgrace the family.”

The knot in your stomach tightened with each step you took away from the courtyard. “Marcus, what’s in the letter?”

He didn’t respond, his silence only amplifying your anxiety. When you reached your chambers, he finally turned to face you, worry etched into his features.

“Marcus, what’s going on?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. “The Emperor has summoned us. This isn’t a polite request; it’s a command. Refusing isn’t an option.”

Your heart raced as you processed his words. “But why? What does the Emperor want with us?”

Marcus’s expression darkened. “It’s about the gladiators. He wants my insights on the performance of the newest recruits.”

You blinked in disbelief. “Gladiators? Why does he care about your opinion on that?”

Marcus’s laugh was bitter, a sound you rarely heard from him. “Because I wasn’t always a general. I was once a gladiator. The Emperor thinks my perspective is valuable.”

Sarcasm bubbled up as you tried to cope with the mounting fear. “So we’re just part of his entertainment now? I know how gladiators work, Marcus.”

His eyes flashed with a sudden coldness, his voice slicing through your sarcasm. “No, you don’t. You’ve never been in the arena, fighting for your life. You’ve never faced that horror.”

You recoiled at the intensity of his response. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just...”

“Just what?” he snapped. “Think it’s easy? Think it’s something I want to revisit? The Emperor wants to parade my past, to judge others as I was judged. It’s a matter of life and death for those men.”

Your anger melted away, replaced by a creeping fear. “Marcus, I’m sorry. I didn’t understand.”

He cut you off, his voice low and fierce. “I want nothing to do with that life. But I’m not foolish enough to disobey the Emperor again.”

You stared at him, your own emotions swirling inside you. “So what do we do?”

Marcus was like a stone wall as he spoke, his voice steady and unyielding. “We go. We play their game. The upbringing you despise, the training that shaped me—it has to be on full display. Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla are not kind rulers. They won't hesitate to use anyone for their own gain.”

A bitter laugh escaped you. “You just saw me scream and yell. I’m not exactly the epitome of grace and strategy.”

Marcus’s expression softened for a moment, a hint of a smile touching his lips. “You’re more than you realize. But we need to be careful. They’re not just rulers; they’re predators. We have to show them strength, unity.”

You shook your head, the weight of it all pressing down on you. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, Marcus. I won’t let them drag you back into that life. I won’t let them take you away from me.”

He reached out, cupping your face in his hands. “I love you,” he said, his voice filled with fierce tenderness. “But we have to be smart about this. We need to present a united front, show them we’re not to be trifled with.”

You nodded, your resolve hardening. “Together, then. We face them together.”

Marcus pulled you into a tight embrace, his warmth grounding you amidst the turmoil. “We’ll get through this,” he whispered. “We have to.”

As you and Marcus entered the grand hall of the palace, the air was thick with tension. The towering pillars and opulent decorations did little to mask the underlying menace that seemed to permeate the room. Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla sat upon their thrones, their eyes narrowing as they took in the sight of Marcus and you approaching.

“Well, well, if it isn’t our esteemed gladiator,” Geta drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. “And his rebellious bride. How charming.”

Caracalla’s gaze was colder, more calculating. “It’s been some time, Marcus. I trust you’ve found civilized life to your liking?”

Marcus’s face remained impassive, but you could feel the tension in his body beside you. “I serve as I am commanded, Your Majesties.”

Geta smirked, his eyes flicking to you. “And your wife. How interesting that you chose to marry someone with such a... colorful history. Tell me, my dear, do you still harbor those rebellious thoughts?”

A chill ran down your spine at his words, and you forced yourself to remain calm. “I am loyal to my husband and to the throne,” you said, hoping your voice didn’t betray your fear.

Caracalla leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “We shall see. Loyalty is tested in the most unexpected ways.”

Your mind raced as you tried to gauge their intentions. The emperors had made Marcus a gladiator, using him for their entertainment and power. Now they were testing you both, probing for any signs of defiance. You knew this was more than a mere audience; it was a test of your loyalty and a way to ensure you posed no threat to their rule.

“I understand your concerns, Your Majesties,” Marcus said, his voice steady and controlled. “But I assure you, we have no intention of going against the throne.”

Geta chuckled the sound grating on your nerves. “Intentions can change. We simply want to make sure you remember where your loyalties lie.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a surge of fear. This was your chance to protect your mother, to ensure she wasn’t caught in the crossfire of political games. If you could gain the emperor’s favor, perhaps they would leave her alone. As the conversation continued, your mind churned with thoughts of her. She had always been a pawn in these power struggles, and you couldn’t bear the thought of her suffering because of your actions. You needed to be careful, to play their game and show them you were no threat.

But despite your efforts to remain composed, your nerves betrayed you. Your hands trembled slightly, and you felt a cold sweat break out on your forehead. You glanced at Marcus, hoping for some reassurance. His eyes met yours, and in that moment, you found an unspoken comfort. His presence was a steady anchor, grounding you amidst the storm of your emotions.

Marcus noticed your fear, and though he didn’t say anything, his hand subtly brushed against yours, a silent promise that he was there for you. His strength and unwavering support bolstered your resolve, giving you the courage to face the emperors.

Caracalla’s gaze shifted between you and Marcus, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “We shall see how well you fare under scrutiny. Your loyalty will be tested, both of you.”

Geta’s expression darkened. “Do not forget, Marcus, that we made you what you are. And we can unmake you just as easily.”

Marcus’s jaw tightened, but he remained composed. “I am aware.”

The emperors exchanged a satisfied glance, clearly enjoying their display of power. “You are dismissed,�� Geta said, waving a hand dismissively. “Remember, we are always watching.”

As you and Marcus turned to leave, your heart pounded in your chest. The encounter had been a stark reminder of the precariousness of your situation. You were walking a tightrope, balancing your need to protect your family with the constant threat of imperial retribution.

Once you were outside the hall, you let out a shaky breath. Marcus pulled you into a quiet alcove, his hands gently cupping your face. But instead of finding solace in his touch, you saw the fear in his eyes, a deep-rooted terror that mirrored your own.

“Marcus,” you whispered, your voice trembling, “are you alright?”

He tried to muster a reassuring smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m fine,” he said, but the lie was thin, transparent.

You took his hand, feeling the tremor in his fingers. “No, you’re not. You’re scared.”

Marcus’s eyes darted away, his shoulders tensing. “I can’t go back to that life,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t be their pawn again.”

You felt a surge of protectiveness, the same anger that had fueled you the day before now burning on his behalf. “We won’t let them do that to you,” you said fiercely. “I won’t let them.”

His gaze snapped back to you, a mixture of fear and desperation in his eyes. “How can you be so sure? They’re the emperors. They can do whatever they want.”

You squeezed his hand, pulling him closer. “Because we’re stronger together. And we won’t let them break us.”

He took a shuddering breath, his eyes searching yours. “I don’t want to go back to that place,” he said, his voice breaking. “The things I did, the things I saw...”

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight. “You’re not alone, Marcus. I’m here with you.”

For a moment, he clung to you, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. Then, he pulled back, his eyes haunted. “Sometimes, it’s like I’m still there. Like I never left.”

You felt a pang of fear for him, a deep concern that he was showing signs of something you couldn’t quite understand but knew was serious. “We’ll get through this,” you said, your voice steady. “But right now, we need to get to our room. You need to rest.”

He nodded, his grip on your hand tightening. Together, you made your way back to your chambers, the weight of the day pressing down on you both. Once inside, you closed the door and guided him to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Talk to me,” you urged gently. “Tell me what’s going on in your mind.”

Marcus’s eyes were distant, as if he was seeing something far away. “It’s like... like I can hear the crowds again. Feel the sand under my feet, the weight of the sword in my hand. The fear, the anger—it all comes rushing back.”

You knelt before him, taking his hands in yours. “You’re not there anymore. You’re here with me.”

He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “But I’m not, am I? I’m always going to be that gladiator to them. A tool to be used, a spectacle to be enjoyed.”

Your heart ached for him, for the pain he was reliving. “Marcus, look at me.”

His eyes met yours, and you saw the depth of his fear, the scars that ran deeper than you had realized.

“You’re not just a gladiator,” you said firmly. “You’re my husband. You’re a general, a leader, a man with a future. And we’re going to get through this together. We’re going to show them that they don’t control us.”

He took a deep breath, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he admitted. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

“You are,” you said, your voice unwavering. “And when you feel like you can’t go on, I’ll be here to hold you up. Just like you’ve always done for me.”

He pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “You’ll never have to find out,” you murmured. “We’re in this together, no matter what.”

Marcus held you for a few moments longer, then pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your shoulders. “Can we talk about something else?” he asked, his voice tinged with weariness. “I need to take my mind off all of this.”

You nodded, offering a small smile. “Of course. Actually, when I was in the carriage, I was brushing up on my Latin. Just in case the emperors decided to make things even more difficult by not speaking English.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “The carriage? I was wondering what you were saying to the driver.”

A laugh broke through his tense demeanor, the sound lifting some of the weight between you. “Latin, huh? How’s that going?”

You shrugged, feeling a bit more at ease. “Not too bad, actually. Although, I think I might have accidentally told the driver that his mother is a donkey.”

Marcus chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Well, I’m sure he appreciated the compliment.”

You playfully swatted his arm. “Hey, I’m trying here! Besides, it’s not like I had much else to do.”

He shook his head, still smiling. “Come here,” he said, his voice softer now as he pulled you into his lap, guiding you to straddle him. His hands settled on your hips, and you could feel the warmth of his body through your clothes.

You relaxed against him, your arms looping around his neck. “I missed this,” you admitted, your fingers tracing gentle patterns on his skin. “Just being us.”

“Me too,” he murmured, his hands moving up your back in a soothing motion. “It feels like everything’s been so chaotic lately.”

You nodded, resting your forehead against his. “But we have each other, and that’s what matters.”

He smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. “Always.”

For a while, you sat there in comfortable silence, the tension from the day slowly melting away. You exchanged light-hearted banter, your bickering and teasing gradually returning to the easy rhythm you both cherished.

“Remember when we first met?” you asked, a smile tugging at your lips.

Marcus’s eyes lit up with the memory. “How could I forget? You were trying to run away from our arranged marriage and fell off the horse you were riding.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I was so determined to escape. I didn’t even realize how dangerous it was.”

He chuckled softly. “You were fierce, that’s for sure. Maybe I should teach you how to ride properly.”

You raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Are we still talking about horses?”

Marcus’s grin widened, his eyes darkening with playful intent. “Depends. Do you want a lesson?”

You leaned in, your breath mingling with his. “Only if you promise to be a very hands-on teacher.”

He kissed you back, his hands tightening on your hips. “Oh, I’ll make sure you get all the practice you need.”

You pulled back slightly, your expression turning more serious. “Marcus, can I ask you something?”

He nodded, his gaze steady. “Of course. Anything.”

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “What do you think about kids? How many would you want? And… do you have any names in mind?”

Marcus looked thoughtful, his brow furrowing slightly. “I’ve always wanted a big family,” he said slowly. “Maybe three or four kids. I think it would be nice for them to have siblings, to grow up with a sense of family and support.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. “I’d like that too. And names?”

He smiled, a distant look in his eyes. “I’ve always liked the name Alexander for a boy. And maybe Lucia for a girl. Strong names, with history and meaning.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of contentment. “I like those names. They feel… right.”

He hesitated for a moment, then looked at you with a mixture of concern and vulnerability. “Is there something else on your mind?”

You bit your lip, feeling a bit nervous. “Actually, yes. I was wondering… could you stop cumming inside of me every time we… you know, make love?”

Marcus blinked, clearly taken aback by your request. “Why? Is something wrong?”

You shook your head quickly. “No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just… I want to make sure we’re both ready when we decide to have children. I don’t want to rush into it because of… well, an accident.”

He looked relieved, then thoughtful. “I understand. I just… I guess I hadn’t really thought about it that way.”

You smiled, cupping his face in your hands. “I love you, Marcus. And I want us to build our family together when we’re both ready.”

He nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You’re right. We should be deliberate about this. I promise, I’ll be more careful.”

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Thank you.”

He kissed you back, his hands moving to cradle your face. “I love you. More than anything.”

You rested your forehead against his, feeling a deep sense of peace. “We’ll get through this, Marcus. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

He nodded, his eyes filled with love and determination. “Together.”

You sat in the coliseum, the roaring crowd around you a stark contrast to the turmoil within. The naval battle below was a spectacle of chaos and violence, the clash of cannons reverberating through the air, each blast sending shockwaves that you could feel in your chest. Ships collided with bone-jarring force, the sound of wood splintering and men shouting echoing through the vast arena.

The emperors insisted on your attention. Emperor Geta’s voice cut through the noise, a chilling command. “Watch closely, my dear. This is the true essence of power.”

You forced yourself to turn back to the spectacle. A cannonball ripped through the hull of a ship, sending debris and bodies flying. The water turned red with blood, the cries of the dying blending with the roar of the crowd. Your stomach twisted, and you clenched your hands in your lap, willing the nausea to pass.

You tried to focus on the details, finding yourself strangely drawn to the movements and strategies of the combatants. You rooted silently for the ship you wanted to see survive, your heart racing with each close call. The emperors watched you closely, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and amusement. They seemed to thrive on the chaos, their power evident in the way they manipulated those around them.

Emperor Caracalla leaned in, his voice dripping with malice. “Do you see how they struggle? Like ants in a flood, all their efforts meaningless. Yet, it's so entertaining.”

You nodded absently, your mind half-focused on the battle. The cruelty of the emperors was a constant presence, but you found yourself oddly captivated by the sheer spectacle of the naval engagement. Each cannon blast, each desperate maneuver, drew you in deeper.

Marcus was away, speaking with the other generals, his face drawn and pale when he returned. He immediately noticed your distress. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice low and urgent.

You shook your head, unable to find the words. He took your hand, squeezing it gently, his own fear and worry evident in his eyes. “I hate this,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “But I can’t look away.”

Marcus’s eyes darkened with understanding. “That’s their power,” he said softly. “They make us complicit in their cruelty.”

Emperor Geta’s voice interrupted your exchange. “Ah, Marcus. Come, sit with us. Enjoy the show.”

Reluctantly, Marcus guided you to sit beside him, his grip on your hand tight. The emperors’ attention shifted back to the battle, their comments filled with a sickly admiration for the carnage. “Look at that,” Geta exclaimed as another ship went down, “such bravery wasted on a lost cause.”

Caracalla chuckled darkly. “Indeed. It’s fascinating how they cling to hope even in the face of certain death.”

Marcus’s jaw clenched, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and sadness. He leaned in closer to you. “They won’t talk about the true cost,” he said, his voice barely audible. “The lives lost, the families left behind. To them, it’s all just a game.”

You nodded, your hand tightening around his. The brutal display below was more than just a show; it was a reminder of the emperors' absolute power and the fragility of your position. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and the deafening roar of the crowd, a relentless assault on your senses. You could barely focus on the battles, your mind racing with fear and the need to stay strong for Marcus.

The next gladiators entered the arena, their expressions a mixture of determination and resignation. As they clashed, you tried to avoid looking at the bloodshed, but the emperors' voices cut through your resolve. "Watch carefully," Caracalla commanded, his tone devoid of empathy. "This is where men are forged."

Marcus’s hand trembled in yours, and you could feel his heart pounding as if it were your own. He kept his eyes on the fighters, but you could see the haunted look in his gaze, memories of his own time in the arena flooding back. His muscles were tense, every fiber of his being screaming to protect you, to fight against the fate they were trying to impose on you both.

With each brutal kill, the emperors’ excitement grew. They leaned forward, shouting encouragement and jeering at the combatants, their faces alight with sadistic pleasure. "Ah, there it is!" Geta exclaimed as a particularly gruesome decapitation took place. "Such skill, such beauty in the art of death."

You pressed closer to Marcus, trying to shield yourself from the horror unfolding below. "We have to find a way out," you whispered, your voice trembling. "We can’t let them do this to us."

Marcus nodded, his eyes never leaving the arena. "I know," he said, his voice strained. "But we have to be careful. They’re watching our every move."

The next fight began, even more savage than the last. You felt as if you were trapped in a nightmare, unable to escape the relentless violence. Marcus’s grip on your hand was the only thing keeping you grounded, a lifeline in the sea of blood and death.

The emperors’ voices grew louder, their laughter echoing around the coliseum. “You see, Marcus,” Geta said, turning to him with a predatory smile. “This is why we miss you. Your fights were always the highlight, full of glory and gore. These men… they lack your finesse.”

Marcus stiffened beside you, his grip on your hand tightening. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the barely controlled fear and anger simmering beneath the surface. His breath was shallow, his eyes darting nervously around the coliseum. The confident warrior you knew seemed to have vanished, replaced by a man haunted by his past.

Caracalla leaned in, his gaze fixed on the arena below where a mere boy, no older than twelve, was being led out. The tiger, a majestic and deadly creature, prowled on the other side, its eyes gleaming with hunger. “Tell us, Marcus,” Caracalla said with a sinister gleam in his eye, “who do you favor? The boy or the beast?”

A chill ran down your spine, and you found your voice. “This is madness,” you protested, your voice trembling. “He’s just a child!”

Geta’s gaze snapped to you, his eyes cold and unfeeling. “Silence,” he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. “Marcus will speak for himself.”

Marcus’s jaw tightened, his eyes flicking between the boy and the tiger. He looked like a man on the edge, torn between his desire to protect and his fear of the consequences. “Neither,” he said finally, his voice shaky. “This isn’t a fight. It’s a slaughter.”

Caracalla’s laughter was a harsh, grating sound. “Oh, but that’s the beauty of it, isn’t it? The unpredictability, the thrill of survival against impossible odds.”

You wanted to scream, to protest further, but the emperors’ power was absolute. You could only watch in horror as the scene below unfolded. The boy looked terrified, his small frame trembling as he faced the tiger. The crowd’s bloodthirsty roars grew louder, drowning out any semblance of reason.

“Perhaps,” Geta said, his smile never reaching his eyes, “Marcus should fight instead. Show us once again why he was the best.”

Marcus’s hand tightened around yours, the pressure almost painful. You felt his body tremble, each muscle tense with a mixture of fear and anger. His eyes were fixed on the boy and the tiger, a haunted look replacing the confidence you once knew. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, betraying the inner turmoil he was desperately trying to contain.

“No!” you exclaimed, unable to contain yourself. “He’s not your puppet. He’s not here for your entertainment.”

Caracalla’s eyes narrowed, his gaze locking onto you with a predatory intensity. “Such spirit,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Marcus, you are a lucky man.”

The words seemed to cut through Marcus like a blade. He turned to you, his eyes wide and wild. “Stop,” he hissed, his voice low and trembling with fear. “Just stop. You’re making it worse.”

You felt a pang of hurt at his harsh words, but you knew he was scared. You squeezed his hand, trying to offer comfort, but he pulled away, his gaze flicking nervously between you and the emperors.

“Perhaps,” Geta said, his smile never reaching his eyes, “Marcus should fight instead. Show us once again why he was the best.”

Marcus didn’t protest this time. He didn’t argue or try to reason with them. He simply stood there, his body rigid, his face pale. You could see the fear in his eyes, the memories of past battles and bloodshed that haunted him.

“Marcus, please,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Don’t do this.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and desperation. “I have no choice,” he said softly. “They leave me none.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "What exactly are the terms?" you asked, your voice firmer than you felt.

The emperors exchanged amused glances. Geta leaned forward, a predatory smile on his lips. "If Marcus wins, he may choose any residence owned by us as a treat for his newlywed wife. A generous offer, wouldn't you say?"

"And if he loses?" you pressed, your stomach twisting with dread.

Caracalla's smile was a twisted mockery of kindness. "If he loses, he will fight for all of Rome again. But this time, he will take the place of the boy who is supposed to fight the lion."

Your blood ran cold at the thought. "This is madness," you whispered, barely able to contain your horror. "You're talking about a man's life as if it's a game."

"Everything is a game, my dear," Geta replied, his tone dripping with condescension. "And Marcus knows the rules better than anyone."

Marcus stood there, his face pale, his body trembling with a mix of fear and determination. He looked at you, his eyes pleading. "I will do what I must," he said softly. "For us."

“No, Marcus, you can't,” you protested, your voice breaking. “There has to be another way.”

He shook his head, his expression pained. “I have no choice,” he repeated, the words a hollow echo of resignation.

Before you could say more, the emperors' guards stepped forward, their grips firm and unyielding as they held you back, you struggled against them, your desperation mounting. “Please, don’t do this,” you pleaded, your voice rising in panic. “He’s not your pawn!”

Geta's cold eyes locked onto you, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “Such fire,” he mused, almost to himself. “But Marcus knows his duty.”

Caracalla laughed, the sound grating and malevolent. “Watch closely, my dear,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “You might learn something about true power.”

You felt the blood drain from your face as Marcus turned away, walking slowly toward the arena's entrance. The boy and the tiger were being led back into their cages, the boy’s terrified eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment before he disappeared from view. Your heart ached for him, but it was Marcus who now faced the same deadly fate.

As the gates closed behind Marcus, you were left standing at the edge of the arena, your hands clenched into fists. The crowd’s roars grew louder, their bloodlust palpable. You sank into your seat, your body trembling with fear and helplessness.

Moments stretched into an eternity, each second marked by the deafening cheers of the spectators. Finally, Marcus emerged, clad in armor and wielding a sword. His face was a mask of determination, but you could see the fear in his eyes. He looked up at you, and you mouthed silently, “I believe in you.”

The gate opposite Marcus creaked open, and the tiger was released. It prowled forward, its muscles rippling under its striped fur, eyes locked onto Marcus with predatory intent. The crowd’s cheers reached a fever pitch, a cacophony of excitement and anticipation.

“Look at him,” Geta murmured to Caracalla, his voice barely audible over the din. “Still has that fire in him, even after all this time.”

Caracalla nodded a twisted smile on his lips. “It’s what makes him so entertaining. Let’s see if he still has the skill to match.”

You clung to your seat, your heart racing as you watched the tiger circle Marcus. Every fiber of your being was focused on him, silently willing him to survive. The arena seemed to shrink, the world narrowing to the deadly dance between man and beast.

Marcus moved with a cautious grace, his sword held steady. The tiger lunged, and he sidestepped, bringing his blade down in a swift arc. The tiger snarled, more angry than hurt, and the battle truly began.

Each clash was a test of Marcus’s skill and endurance. The tiger’s powerful swipes and lunges were met with precise parries and counterattacks. The crowd roared with every close call, their bloodthirsty excitement a constant backdrop to the deadly struggle.

Geta leaned closer to Caracalla, his eyes gleaming with interest. “He’s slower than he used to be,” he commented, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“But still formidable,” Caracalla replied, his gaze never leaving the arena. “Let’s see how long he can keep this up.”

Your eyes never left Marcus, every movement of his sword, every step he took etched into your mind. You saw the strain in his posture, the weariness beginning to show. But you also saw his determination, the fire that drove him to protect you and fight for your future.

The tiger lunged again, and Marcus sidestepped, thrusting his sword into the beast’s side. The tiger roared in pain, but it wasn’t enough to bring it down. Marcus circled, his breathing heavy, his eyes focused on the next move.

You bit your lip, your hands gripping the edge of your seat. “Come on, Marcus,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the crowd. “You can do this.”

The emperors’ eyes were fixed on the battle, their expressions a mix of amusement and anticipation. “He still has some fight in him,” Geta remarked, his tone almost admiring.

Caracalla smirked. “Let’s see if he can finish it.”

With a final, desperate lunge, Marcus brought his sword down with all his strength. The blade struck true, piercing the tiger’s heart. The beast collapsed with a final roar, its body twitching in its death throes.

The crowd erupted into cheers, their bloodlust satisfied. Marcus stood there, panting and covered in sweat, his eyes searching the crowd until they found yours. He nodded once, a silent promise that he would come back to you.

Geta clapped his hands, a smile of satisfaction on his face. “Well done, Marcus,” he said, his voice carrying over the noise of the crowd. “You have earned your reward.”

Marcus approached, his steps unsteady but his resolve unwavering. “We did it,” he said softly, his voice filled with relief and love. “We made it.”

As soon as he reached you, your emotions overwhelmed you, and tears began to fall. You couldn’t hold them back any longer. The fear, the violence, the constant threat—it all came pouring out. Marcus wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly as sobs wracked your body. “It’s over,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm. “We’re safe now.”

You buried your face in his chest, feeling the warmth and strength of his embrace. For a moment, it was just the two of you, the world outside fading away. But the respite was short-lived. The emperors, ever impatient, approached with their questions.

“What residence do you desire, Marcus?” Geta asked, his tone dismissive of your pain. “You must choose.”

Marcus looked up, his eyes hardening with determination. “A residence close to the villa near Calacari,” he said firmly. “It’s secluded and secure.”

Caracalla nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Very well. It will be arranged. Now, go and clean yourself. The blood is rather unbecoming.”

Marcus turned back to you, his eyes filled with concern. “Let’s get out of here,” he said gently, guiding you towards the bathhouse.

The bathhouse was a haven of calm, the warm steam rising in gentle curls, a stark contrast to the brutal scene you had just left. Marcus began to strip off his bloodstained clothes, wincing with each movement. You stepped forward to help, your fingers trembling as you undid the clasps and buttons. As his shirt came off, you gasped at the sight of new scars marring his skin.

“Marcus…” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. “You’re hurt.”

He shook his head, trying to reassure you. “I’m alright. It looks worse than it is.”

You gently traced the lines of the scars, your touch soft and tender. “I hate seeing you like this,” you said, tears welling up again. “I wish I could take your pain away.”

Marcus smiled, a hint of his usual playful self returning. “You already do, just by being here with me.”

You helped him into the warm water, your movements careful and precise. As he sank into the bath, he let out a sigh of relief. You joined him, sitting beside him and gently washing away the blood and grime. The tension in his body gradually eased, though the pain was still evident in his eyes.

Despite the sadness, you couldn’t help but try to lighten the mood. “You know,” you said with a small smile, “I think I’m starting to enjoy taking care of you like this.”

Marcus chuckled softly, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. “I could get used to it,” he replied, his voice low and filled with warmth.

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Once we’re back in our own bed, I’ll take even better care of you,” you whispered, your tone both sweet and flirty.

His eyes darkened with desire, but as he tried to pull you closer, a sharp pain made him wince. “Maybe we should wait until I’m a bit more recovered,” he admitted, his voice strained.

You nodded, understanding and concern in your eyes. “Of course,” you said softly. “I just want you to be comfortable.”

Marcus smiled, his love for you shining through the pain. “We’ll have plenty of time for that,” he said, his hand gently caressing your arm. “Right now, let’s just be together.”

You sat in the bathhouse, the warm water soothing your tired bodies, the world outside momentarily forgotten. The future was uncertain, but as long as you had each other, you knew you could face anything. Marcus’s presence was your anchor, and together, you would find your way back to peace and happiness.

As you rested your head on his shoulder, you felt a sense of calm wash over you. The storm had passed, and now, it was time to heal and rebuild. With Marcus by your side, you knew that anything was possible.

After a long while of comfortable silence, you finally spoke, your voice soft but firm. “Marcus,” you began, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. “You can never, ever go silent on me like that again. Do you understand? The fear of not knowing what you were thinking, what you were feeling—it’s unbearable. If you ever do, you’ll have something far worse than a lion to face.”

He looked at you, his eyes wide with surprise, then slowly nodded. “I promise,” he said quietly, his voice filled with sincerity. “I will never shut you out again.”

You leaned in, pressing your forehead against his. “Good,” you whispered. “Because we face everything together, remember?”

“Always,” he replied, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace.

The weekend from hell was over. Between Aurelia's pregnancy and the gladiators, you and Marcus were emotionally drained. But one question still lingered. "Why the emperor's residence near Calacari?" you asked as the carriage rolled along the uneven roads, taking you away from the horrors of the coliseum.

Marcus looked at you, his eyes softening with tenderness. "It’s not just for us," he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "It's for your mother."

You frowned, confusion knitting your brow. "My mother? Why would you care about where she lives?"

He took a deep breath, his hand finding yours and squeezing gently. "Remember when you told me about your father? How you feared he might leave your mother with nothing? I couldn’t bear the thought of her being alone, vulnerable. This villa isn't on the water but further inland, so it won’t worsen her fear of the sea. She can live there with or without him, and she can stay by us whenever she wants."

You blinked, absorbing his words. "You thought of all that?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Marcus nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yes. I want her to have a safe place, a sanctuary. Just like I want for us. Life under Rome's rule is too cruel, too unpredictable. We deserve a place where we can be happy, away from the chaos."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you fought to keep them from spilling over. Instead, you leaned in and kissed him passionately, pouring all your gratitude and love into that one kiss. When you pulled back, you whispered, "Never ever go silent on me like that again, Marcus. You scared me. You’ll have something worse than a lion on your hands if you do."

He chuckled softly, a genuine smile breaking through his weary expression. "I promise," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I won't go silent on you again."

The carriage hit a bump, jolting you both, and you clung to Marcus, who winced in pain. "Are you alright?" you asked, your concern immediate.

He nodded, though his face betrayed the discomfort he felt. "I’m fine," he said, but his voice cracked, revealing the truth. "I miss the days when our biggest worry was a petty argument or growing pains. Now, I can't even have my wife on my lap without feeling like my body is falling apart."

Your heart ached for him, and you placed a gentle hand on his cheek. "We'll get through this, Marcus. Together. We’ll find peace and happiness, away from Rome’s cruelty."

Marcus sighed, leaning into your touch. "I hope so. I dream of a life where we can wake up to the sound of birds, not the roar of the crowd. A place where we can raise our children without fear."

You smiled, the vision of that future giving you strength. "We’ll make it happen. We’ll build that life, one day at a time."

Marcus smiled back at you, his eyes twinkling with a glimmer of hope. "I believe you, but how soon are we talking?" he asked, a playful tone creeping into his voice. "I don't think I can stand another day in Rome's chaos."

You chuckled, feeling a bit lighter. "Patience, my love. We’ll get there. But first, we need to survive the next few months."

Marcus groaned dramatically. "Months? You're killing me. I was hoping for days, maybe weeks."

You playfully swatted his arm. "Oh, stop it. You know it’ll take time to arrange everything."

He grinned, leaning in closer. "I guess I'll just have to endure your company in the meantime."

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. "Endure, huh? Is that what we're calling it now?"

His expression softened, and he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "I wouldn't trade a moment of it, not for anything," he said softly. "Even if it means dealing with your father’s wrath when we get back."

You sighed, the reality of your situation creeping back in. "He’s not going to take the news well, is he?"

Marcus shook his head. "No, probably not. But we’ll face it together. Just like we’ve faced everything else."

You nodded, drawing strength from his unwavering support. "Together," you echoed, the word a promise as much as a reassurance.