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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year

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Lessons in Love.

Bucky didn't believe in love at first sight. Then he met you.

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings - None

Word Count - 3615

Author's Note - hello gorgeous people, hope you're all doing well. writing this has made my heart so full, and I hope it makes you feel the same. requests are always open and more than encouraged!! currently working on a stunning jake seresin request that's just so lovely. i'm SO open to more jake requests, but also any marvel, top gun maverick, criminal minds, narcos and any others you have in mind!! just send them over, and I'll see what I can do. as always, so much love x

Masterlist. Requests.

“No way. How is that even possible?”

You look at the bewildered man in front of you and can’t help but smile.

“It’ll play anything you want it to. Anything in the world. Just ask it!” you encourage, beaming grin still plastered on your face.

“Alexa,” he says tentatively, “play Marvin Gaye.”

The first notes of Trouble Man begin to sound through your apartment, and his eyes light up. He’s looking at you like you’ve discovered something completely revolutionary.

You laugh – a real, genuine, delighted sound that flows through Bucky like a beam of light, illuminates his bones, makes his heart beat that little bit faster.

Grabbing your notebook, you delicately place a check next to Number 26 – voice-controlled devices. Number 27 is air fryers. Number 28 is Bluetooth. Number 29 is kindles and e-readers. Number 30 is Doordash. You’ve already checked off Spotify, and ATMs, and Google, and online banking, amongst many others. A list of things to better integrate Bucky into the 21st Century. A list of things to make him feel less like a man out of time. A list of things that allow you to spend all the time with him that you can.

A warm hand on your left hip and a cold one on your right pull you back into reality.

“Dance with me.” he murmurs. “Let me teach you something, for once.”

Before you can process his words, he’s gliding across the kitchen with you in his arms. Trouble Man isn’t playing anymore, instead replaced with something slower, richer. Bucky hasn’t taken his eyes off you, not even for a second. He’s watching your every move, every expression, every twitch of your lips. Reading you like a book.

You bring your hands to rest around his neck, and he relaxes into you. He’s leading, swaying you gently, occasionally twirling you like a ballerina in a music box. Perfectly effortless. He’s good at this.

The sun is setting, casting a warm orange hue across the kitchen. The light is reflecting onto your hair, making you glow, giving you a halo. Angelic, he thinks. My guardian angel.

You close the space between your bodies, wrapping your arms around his middle. Resting your head on his chest, he prays you can’t hear how his heart is working overtime. You shut your eyes, and breathe him in. He smells faintly like the Bakery, like sugar and coffee and cinnamon. The place that started it all.

　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵

When Bucky first moved into his apartment, he’d noticed the Bakery down the street immediately. The smell of cake and coffee drifted out of the lilac colored door, enticing him in. He resisted the urge, and told himself that he’d go inside tomorrow.

The next day, he stood outside of the red brick building, and read the menu on the noticeboard carefully. Then he reread it. And then read it again. Since when was coffee so complicated? And don’t even get him started on cake. He swore there was only a few types back in the forties. Now, there was at least fifty different kinds on this menu alone. He was overwhelmed. He thought he’d be able to walk into this Bakery, get some coffee, maybe something sweet, and leave content. Instead, he's stood on the sidewalk on the verge of a panic attack. Tomorrow, he thinks to himself. I’ll go in tomorrow.

Tomorrow never comes. Every day, he takes a walk, and purposely passes the building that he longs to go into. But somehow, he can never find the courage. He knows he’ll just look like an idiot if he walks in. He’ll look lost, and out of place, and everyone will laugh and mutter. Look, they’ll jeer, The Winter Soldier can’t even order a coffee.

And so, he spares himself the pain. Lets his feet carry him past, only slowing down slightly when he passes the lilac door. Every day for three months, he takes the same route. Willing himself to go in, to find the courage. It’s just coffee, he tells himself. Get a grip.

Until, one day, you decided to change his life, unknowingly. Or maybe knowingly. He’s still not sure.

He takes his usual path, and just as he gets to the lilac door – you’re there. Stood, waiting, soft smile on your face. Bucky panics, and wills his feet to move faster, to take him away from this inevitably awkward situation. You stop him before he can make a run for it.

“Hi.”

Oh. You’re talking to him. You’re staring into his soul with no judgment, or fear, or trepidation. You’re staring into his soul with gentleness. Kindness. Friendship. He’s terrified.

“Uh – hi.” He rubs the back of his neck. Nervous habit.

“So, uh, I hope this isn’t weird, or anything. But, I’ve been watching you walk past every day for like three months, and, well…” you trail off. Now you look nervous. “Actually, I haven’t really thought this far ahead. I just see you, and I wanted to… invite you in, I guess? Not that you need an invite, of course not, we’re open to everyone, but… you always look like you’re going to come in, and then you never do. And I’ve been telling myself for months that I should properly invite you in, but now I’m realising this is, uh, really weird. And I’m sorry.”

You still have that gentle smile on your face, but it’s more tentative now. A dusting of pink is making its way onto your cheeks, and Bucky thinks it might be his new favourite color.

It’s now that he really starts to take you in. Your hair is blowing slightly in the breeze, and the sleeves of your sweater are pulled down over your wrists, to try and keep the New York chill at bay. You have bright, inquisitive eyes – eyes that contain hope, love, laughter. You make him feel almost peaceful. No one makes him feel like that. Damn.

You’ve stepped closer to him now, to get out of the way of the customers making their way through the door. You smell like sugar, and coffee, and optimism. He wants to breathe you in, let you settle in his lungs. A comfortable warmth spreads through his chest.

He decides to take a gamble and bear his truth to you. He’s not sure why, but he trusts you. He doesn’t trust anyone, these days. But he trusts you.

“Can I be honest with you?”, he asks, looking at you expectantly. You’re almost expecting him to laugh in your face at the absurdity of it all. You nod anyway, signalling for him to continue.

“I’ve been trying to work up the courage to come in. But every time I try, I just, uh-” he stutters, and you can tell that his mind is screaming at him, sounding alarm bells, begging him to stop with all this sudden vulnerability.

“It’s overwhelming, right?” you ask, cutting him off. Saving him. Guardian angel.

You see the relief in his body at your question. His fists unclench, the tension leaves his shoulders. He smiles bashfully. Half grateful, half embarrassed. You get it.

“Yeah,” he chuckles. You giggle, and he’s convinced that the melodious sound will circle around in his mind forever, like the Earth orbiting the Sun.

You fiddle with the strings of your mint green apron, and look at him. You’re gazing at him so earnestly that he’s worried he might spontaneously combust.

“Are you busy tonight?” you ask suddenly, and he feels so dizzy he’s concerned momentarily that he’s going to pass out.

“Uh, no. I’m not,” he replies, managing to force the words out of his mouth.

“We close at 6, so meet me here at 7.”

You still have that sparkle in your eye. He couldn’t say no to you if he tried.

“Why?” he queries. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t absolutely petrified at the turn the conversation has taken.

“I want to show you around. Maybe make you a coffee, introduce you to some of my favourite things. You won’t believe how good my raspberry and white chocolate cookies are. They’re best sellers for a reason,” you beam at him.

Beaming. He wonders how he’s lived his whole life without your light illuminating his universe. Anywhere he goes without you is going to feel so dark, he thinks. How did I ever live like this?

He manages to pull himself together to smile back at you. His first genuine grin in God knows how long. He’s forgotten what joy feels like, and he’s almost drunk on it now.

He agrees to your plan, and you turn on your heel, about to make your way back inside.

“Wait!” he yells, louder than intended. “What’s your name?”

Your lips turn up into a smirk, mischief seeping out of your pores.

“Come back at 7 and find out.” You wink at him, and he has to take a few deep breaths in order to stay conscious. With that, you leave him alone on the sidewalk, where he’s silently thanking the universe for dropping you in his lap. Finally, he thinks. The cosmic punishment is over.

He does come back at 7. In fact, he’s stood outside waiting at 6:45. He can see you mopping the floor, singing as you go. His supersoldier hearing allows him to listen to your voice, even from this far away. He’s never been more grateful for the thing he used to call a curse. He’d be cursed every damn day if it meant he got to listen to you like this.

At 6:58, you appear at the lilac door, beckoning him to follow you inside. He knows that stepping over that threshold is going to change him fundamentally. He can’t wait.

Upon entering, he’s hit with the smell of cinnamon, sugar, coffee, and you. A beautiful mix of all three. Without a second thought, he reaches out with his right hand, and gently brushes some flour from your cheekbone.

“Bucky,” he murmurs.

You can’t tear your eyes away from him. Lips slightly parted, chest heaving, it takes you a minute to register that he spoke.

“What?” you ask, dazed by the handsome stranger with the steel blue eyes.

“My name,” he speaks softly. “It’s Bucky.”

You smile knowingly, and take a deep breath. It’s overwhelming, meeting someone that you know is going to be in your life forever. You’re both feeling the same, neither of you sure just quite what to do.

You grab his left hand, sighing quietly in relief at the feeling the cool metal against your heated skin. Leading him gently, he lets you guide him through the front of the store, until you stop behind the counter. He’s convinced he’d let you lead him anywhere, as long as he gets to feel your skin, soft and warm, on his. Grounding. Comforting. Easy.

“What kind of milk do you like?” you ask, fingers still intertwined with his.

“There’s more than one kind of milk?”

Bucky looks so disorientated, that you want to kiss the confused expression off his face. You chuckle softly, and the sound bounces off the metal in the room, twinkling around him.

“We have cows’ milk, oat milk, almond milk and soy milk.” You take one look at him, and decide to change course. “Let’s start with something less complex, actually. Any allergies I should know about?”

He shakes his head, mischievous grin beginning to form on his handsome face. There he is, you think. He’s with me.

“I’m going to make you a latte. It’s milky, and not too strong or too sweet. I think you’ll like it.”

She thinks I’ll like it, he muses. And he trusts you - whether it be with his life, or just a cup of coffee.

You reluctantly let go of his hand, and begin to flit around, gathering everything you need. Bucky leans back against the counter and watches carefully. He watches the way you bite your lip when you measure out the milk. He watches the way the steam from the coffee machine blows your hair back from your face gently. He watches the way you’re trying to make everything perfect. He can’t remember the last time someone paid attention to him like this. His mind is telling him to sprint in the opposite direction, to excuse himself and never come back. He’s terrified. But he stays. I deserve this, he thinks. I deserve something good.

You pull him from his thoughts by handing him the mug of warm coffee. He takes it from you carefully, and, without breaking eye contact, takes a sip. He smiles, really smiles. That’s all the validation you needed.

“Let me show you where we bake everything,” you say quietly, as if you’re afraid to burst this bubble of warmth and trust you’ve created. You’re scared he’s going to bolt if you give him the chance. So, you don’t. You take his hand once more, and guide him through to the kitchen.

“Have you done much baking in your life, Bucky?”

No, he thinks. But I will. I’ll bake everyday for the rest of my life if it means you’ll love me. If you’ll make me coffee and smile at me like that.

Instead, he answers cautiously.

“Not really. I’d like to, though.” He adds that last part bashfully. You smile back at him earnestly.

“Well then you’re in the right place,” you wink. He has the overwhelming urge to drop to his knees. To pray at your altar. To worship you like an angel sent down just for him. He’s surprised he’s still stood on two feet.

Before he can even register what’s happening, you’re beginning to create a mixture for your infamous cookies. You direct him to stir, while you add meticulously measured ingredients into the bowl.

“Put those arms to good use,” you’d smirked, and a blush had risen up to his cheeks almost instantly.

You click the radio on, and a soft, jazzy melody begins to drift through the room. You’re humming quietly, gliding around the kitchen, and he decides that this is it for him. You’re it for him. He could watch you do this every day and die a happy man.

Cookies baking in the oven, you jump up to sit on one of the counters. Bucky moves to stand in between your legs, still being careful to keep his distance ever so slightly. He knows if he touches you, he won’t ever want to let go.

“This wasn’t as scary as I thought it was going to be,” he confesses.

“What, me?” you tease.

“No. Coffee. And cookies,” he chuckles.

“Are there lots of things that you haven’t done because you find them scary?” you ask genuinely. You want to know him. All of him. Fears, wants, quirks. All of it.

“Yeah, actually. The world is so different now. I don’t really know where to start. It’s all terrifying, honestly,” he laughs. You laugh with him, but you know there’s truth to his words. You want to wrap your arms around him. He may be 6 foot tall and made of solid muscle and vibranium, but you want to protect him.

“Why don’t we do it together?”

A pause. He’s confused again.

“Do what together?”

“All of it. The learning. I’ll help you. Everything is less scary if you do it with someone else.”

It’s now that he’s convinced he’s dreaming. You can’t be real. Why would you be here, offering him everything, after all that he’s done? He has to remind himself. I deserve this. I deserve something good.

You can sense his trepidation, so you keep talking.

“Why don’t we make a list? You write down the things you want to learn about. I’ll write down other things I think you should know. You’ll be an expert on the 21st Century before long, Buck.”

Buck. The nickname sounds like a gift coming from your lips.

“Okay. Yeah. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

The anxiety is coming off him in waves. He’s panicking. You grab a hold of both of his hands, and place one on each of your legs, just above your knees. He steps in closer, and takes a breath. You’re warm, and you’re soft, and you’re love personified. He’s okay.

“Of course I don’t mind. I’m excited!” you assure him. Then, quieter, “It means I get to spend more time with you.”

He aims a beaming, megawatt smile in your direction. He feels as if his nerve endings are alight. You’ve awoken something in him. He’d forgotten what it was like to feel like this. To feel alive.

You reach over and grab your notebook. In it, you simply write his name, followed by a love heart. Then, underneath, you begin to list everything you can think of that you want to teach him. You hand the list to him, and he adds his own requests. Between you, you manage to write 50 different lessons.

“Perfect. We’ll start with number one, and work our way down. Are you busy tomorrow evening?”

He chuckles at your eagerness, but secretly, he can’t wait. He knows he’ll be counting down the hours until he can see you again.

“Nope, I’m not. You are my only priority, sweetheart.”

The term of endearment seeps into your skin, settles in your ribcage. You’re convinced it’ll warm you up from the inside out. If he keeps calling you sweetheart in that Brooklyn drawl of his, you’ll never be cold again.

　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵

You’re not sure if you’ve been swaying in your kitchen with Bucky to Marvin Gaye for 2 minutes or 2 hours. You’re comfortably settled into him, as if the space in his arms was made especially for you. Maybe it was.

Bucky’s voice breaks through the solitude.

“You know, I’ve created my own list,” he murmurs against the top of your hair, where he’s resting his head.

You pull back, still in his arms, to look at him carefully.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Read it, and tell me what you think.”

He untangles himself from you and crosses the room, to retrieve his leather-bound notebook. He returns, and places it carefully in your awaiting hands.

You flick open the cover to reveal the first page. You recognise his handwriting instantly. It’s spiralling, and imperfect, but so Bucky. At the top of the page, you spot the title – your name, with a love heart next to it. Exactly the same as you’d done for him when you’d originally created your list together.

Underneath your name, only one thing is written.

I love you.

You look up at him, to see him watching you, holding his breath. Neither of you know what to say. You know what you want to say. You want to tell him that you hope the list never ends, so you always have an excuse to spend time with him. You want to tell him that you watched him walk past the door of the Bakery every day for 3 months because you thought he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. You want to tell him that every time he looks at you, you feel as if you’re going to pass out. You want to tell him that you can recognise him anywhere, by touch or smell alone. Instead, you say,

“You do?”

That genuine, million dollar smile is back, etched on his face. He’s glowing, light radiating from his bones.

“Yes. I do. I think I’ve loved you ever since I saw you waiting for me on the doorstep of the Bakery that day.”

You think you might be floating. Levitating above ground, fuelled by love. You laugh.

“That’s the exact moment I fell in love with you.”

He laughs with you, then. You could get drunk off the sound.

“I didn’t think love at first sight was a real thing. I thought I was going crazy,” he confesses.

He’s convinced that the two of you have discovered something, invented it even. Because he doesn’t understand. If love feels like this, so all encompassing, so consuming – how does anyone live? Every moment of every day, Bucky thinks of you. How does anyone go to work? How does anyone ever feel sad, or angry, when love like this exists?

You drop the notebook and cross the room to him. He closes the gap, and throws his arms around you, spinning you in circles, laughing with joy. He sets you back on your feet, and tilts your chin up, so you’re looking into his steel blue eyes. You could drown in the ocean of his irises if he let you.

He leans down, and presses his lips to yours. He’s giving you all of the love, the joy, the laughter – everything good that he has ever felt, because of you – through his kiss. Your knees go weak, and he holds you up by your waist, his strong arms encircling your frame. He tastes like coffee, and sugar, and promises. You’ll never want to taste anything else.

Eventually, you break away for air. You gaze up at him, and he sees sunshine in your eyes. He’s not sure what he did to earn a love like this. You seem to sense his doubts creeping in, because you say, in the most assured voice he’s ever heard –

“No one has ever loved anyone as much as I love you.”

I deserve this, he thinks. I deserve something good.

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trashogram · 3 months

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He Chose You (Pt. 2)

Lucifer/Reader

Rated E for the smex coming next chapter I SWEAR. ((Also there will not be any non-con in this fic, so please don’t worry. You’ll see when you read.))

Tag Requests: @loslox, @for-hearthand-home, @navierkalani

‘The worst thing they could be are swingers.’

Your heart was racing, and you felt ridiculous for how uppity you felt at the prospect of having dinner with your two elderly neighbors.

Normally, meeting new people would cause a healthy amount of anxiety in you. You’d grown up into a recluse and upholding social niceties took most of your energy. It was even worse to be in their home, and among people that you likely did not have much in common with.

These were personal reassurances that you told yourself after denying the first invitation for dinner with the Farrows. The guilt you felt, paired with the subsequent relief of not having to spend more than five minutes with your chatty neighbor, stirred an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Of course you’d been unable to stop thinking about what a wretch you were, how karma was going to bite you on the ass for denying an old couple some company.

And oh Karma did come back to bite you. Hard.

You felt like you were hanging by a thread at work. Three weeks into the job and you’d already been reprimanded. Even the memory of your supervisor looking down her nose at you from the other side of her desk made your eyes water.

“We have a ‘three strikes’ policy here. I’m afraid this will count as your first.”

Never having been fired from a job notwithstanding, you felt like the idiot your parents always purported you to be.

If you’d have just stayed in your hometown, living off your parents’ good graces and kept your head down, instead of prancing out the door as if you had self-respect and no need for a safety net…

Maybe things wouldn’t be so dire.

Maybe you wouldn’t be on the verge of having a panic attack at this very moment, feeling the anxiety and restlessness from declining the previous invitation tenfold.

With a deep breath in and out, you crossed the hall with the hesitance of a mouse approaching a snap-trap. You knocked on the door to Unit 606 with a shaking hand.

There was a moment left to blanch at the realization that you hadn’t brought anything with you. Like the shittiest, most thoughtless guest ever.

——

“You made it!” Mrs. Farrow held her arms out dramatically. “Come in! Come in! You’re right on time! Oh and you look lovely dear!”

“Thanks.” You felt heat rise to your cheeks as the door closed behind you.

The layout of the apartment was a mirror image to yours, but you were overwhelmed by just how much stuff had taken up the space. From the kitchen to the living room, the apartment was brimming with kaleidoscopic color. Antique statuettes of unknown deities, handcrafted vases and sculptures in-set with gems and gold filigree, expertly framed posters of old Hollywood, and Persian rugs beneath well-worn furniture were visible from just a cursory glance.

It distracted you from the unusually bitter, earthy smell that assaulted you upon entering.

“Wow,” You said in genuine awe. “Your home is lovely.”

“Aw, you’re too kind sweetheart. Too kind. Here, let me take your shawl - we’ll hang it up on the rack here, see.” She took your cardigan and placed it on an old hat stand before steering you out to the living room by the back of your shoulders.

There was a man sitting in a leather armchair adjacent to the couch. He was wearing a tweed jacket and his silver-blond hair had been combed back finely to show a pale, wrinkled face and eyes so dark they shone almost black in the lowlight.

He looked at you with interest once you’d finally caught onto his presence, and opened his mouth to speak.

‘Quack!’

“Lou!” You laughed as the duck came racing over on its little legs.

Without delay, the bird climbed onto your flats with an impatient flap of its wings, trying to balance while looking up at you adoringly.

You couldn’t help but reach down and pat his little head, murmuring ‘hellos’ and ‘how you doing buddy?’ softly and sweetly.

The man opposite you both smirked. “My wife was right. He’s quite taken with you.”

“I’m always right!” Mrs. Farrow called out from the kitchen.

You looked to the kitchen and back to, presumably, Mr. Farrow, an uncertain smile on your lips.

“Welcome to our home.” The elder man’s voice was almost hypnotically deep. His hand was outstretched and waiting. “Please excuse me for not greeting you properly. When you get to be as old as I am, your body does everything it can to make you stay put in one place.”

You shook your head. “Oh no, please don’t worry about it! I understand.”

Mr. Farrow’s smirk seemed to soften as you spoke.

“Please make yourself comfortable, my dear.” When he gestured to the couch, you awkwardly shuffled to sit down. Lou was right on your heels, loathe to spend even a second without your warmth.

The duck ended up snuggled on your lap after begging to be lifted as you sank into the plush sofa. And you were grateful, hugging Lou to you gently as if he were a plush toy.

It helped take your mind away from that spine-tingling feeling when it made a comeback — the way Mr. Farrow’s eyes glittered when he looked at you and his duck.

‘Oh god, they probably are swingers. And they lure in their targets with this crazy well-trained duck.’ You thought, punching yourself in the face mentally. ‘And you fell for it. Walked right into their den of debauchery. You stupid bitch.’

“Here’s some water, honey. We’ll save the stronger stuff for dinner.” You jumped in your seat when Mrs. Farrow appeared at your side, setting a glass of ice water down on the end table beside you.

You reached for the glass as its contents sloshed over the edge. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Farrow.”

Mrs. Farrow beamed.

“What did I tell ya, Warren? Isn’t she lovely? Just a peach. Lou is smitten.” She patted your shoulder. “And it’s Cassie, honey. Call me Cass.”

“You were right, Cass.” Warren Farrow intoned.

He took on a conspiratorial tone as he addressed you once more. “You must know, my wife hasn’t stopped talking about you since you met the other day. I wondered if she was preparing us for a new roommate.”

Heat flooded your face for the second time. “Aw.”

“Oh poo, as if you wouldn’a done the same.” Mrs. Farrow sniffed derisively. “Dinner in 5 minutes!”

Her exit left room for you to start a conversation, but you couldn’t find it in you to say anything. Mr. Farrow kept staring, smiling, which made you stroke Lou’s feathers for comfort that much more.

The silence lasted a little while, save for the clinking, crackling, thudding from the kitchen dining room. Aside from catering to Lou, you surveyed your surroundings in an effort to avoid bouncing your legs.

The Farrows didn’t have a TV, only a large fireplace that they’d positioned their furniture around. There were displays on either side of the grate. On one stood an oversized chalice with intricate, swirling patterns. The other had a statuette of a goat-headed figure sitting crisscrossed on a throne, one arm poised to reach out to the sky.

“Baphomet.”

You turned from the sight, head swiveling to face your human companion. He was eying you keenly again.

“O-oh, the statue is…?”

Warren nodded. “Baphomet. Conceived as a false god around the time of the crusades. Most people see him as a depiction of Satan these days.”

The association wasn’t too far-fetched, you figured with another look at the figure. Its goat-head and large horns were the most eye-catching thing about it.

“I apologize if the sight upsets you, dear. I hadn’t thought to remove it before your arrival.”

“Oh no, please. It’s alright.” You said. “It doesn’t bother me. It’s very interesting.”

The rumbling hum at your side seemed to signal approval, or maybe general geniality with your neutral response. “Are you religious by chance?”

You turned to Warren again.

“Ah, no.” You replied apologetically. “I grew up in a Christian area, but I was never very involved with the church.”

Warren nodded. “That’s just as well. The institution and its practices can be stifling. I was never very involved with it myself.”

“Religious artifacts have always been fascinating to me, however. There’s no shortage of temples and synagogues in this world.”

“Have you been to many? For the history?” You were genuinely curious.

The old man nodded again, stately and dignified even as he puffed up in his armchair like a peacock. “Cass and I are seasoned travelers. We’ve been to all 7 continents at least twice, seen the wonders of the world from the Hindu shrines in Malaysia to St. Basil’s Cathedral. I have a particular fondness for those countries surrounding the Mediterranean Sea. I was able to convince Cassie another trip to Rome wouldn’t put us in the poor house last year.”

Your little huff of laughter was sincere, though the idea of traveling to Rome - or anyplace outside of the familiar - sounded amazing. “I’d love to be able to do that.”

Warren’s head tilted to one side. “You’re quite young, I’m sure you’ll get the chance if you haven’t already.”

“Sure.” You scoffed before immediately falling into contrition. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me —”

“Dinner time!”

Mrs. Farrow hollered from the kitchen, stopping you from trying to come up with a suitable excuse for yourself.

Luckily, Mr. Farrow chuckled good-naturedly. He rose from his chair stiffly, legs visibly straining. “No need to apologize, my dear. But we best get going before the Missus comes out and drags us by our ears.”

——

All things considered, the dinner was perfectly fine.

The jitters never left your frame, but you had chalked that up to a simple byproduct of your skittish nature. The red wine that Cass had insisted upon you made you feel warm and solid, at least.

As did the fact that Cassie Farrow could hold entire conversations all on her own with very little effort or input from yourself.

“You got a boyfriend, honey? Or girlfriend? No shame in that at all. We may be old but by no means bigoted. We’ve been all over the place, seen so many things - what’s natural to you and me could be the furthest from, in certain places. Isn’t that right, Warren?”

“Men in Ancient Greece often had relationships with other men.” Warren replied. “Royals in Europe had extramarital affairs with different sexes. It was all about keeping the bloodline pure, but romance was a different thing altogether.”

“I haven’t dated in a while, actually.” You said. “It’s not been a priority.”

Cassie nodded, exuberant as she drank from her wine glass. “That’s good too! Plenty of independent women these days! It’s about time, I say.”

‘Quack quack’

Lou was beside you, red eyes locked in as he gazed upon you at the dining table. It made you giggle.

“Mm!” Cassie had a spastic moment. “I almost forgot!”

The chair lurched out from under the old woman as she rose and scuttled out of the room. It left you blinking, and out of the corner of your eye you saw that same smirk on Warren’s face before his wife had returned.

She had a small wicker basket in her arms.

“This is for you, honey. Housewarming present from your kooky neighbors across the hall.”

As she drew nearer, you caught a glimpse of the contents, some of which shone beneath the light of the overhead chandelier.

“Thank you! You really didn’t have to.” The basket was pressed into your arms and Cassie was back in her seat before you’d finished your sentence.

“Nonsense. It’s the least we could do. I still can’t believe no one welcomed you for a whole week!”

The basket was lined with shredded filler, and nestled in between were little gemstones and crystals.

“There’s jade and ruby in there, and I believe there’s moonstone as well.” Mr. Farrow recalled. “Is that it, Cass?”

“Yes, yes, and carnelian too. It’s all scattered about there, with the Scrabble and the socks and the hand cream and oh!” Mrs. Farrow laughed. “Forgive us honey, we saw that little rubber duck and just had to get it for you.”

There was a little rubber duck. It was a novelty type, with a tiny red jacket and a tiny black top hat.

“It’s a carnival barker. No, it’s something like that. It’s on the tip of my tongue.” Your nose scrunched in thought. “Oh, a circus ringmaster!”

“Exactly! See, what’d I tell you, Warren? She loves it!”

“I believe I was the one who suggested it.” His voice carried through the otherwise silent dining room.

“Oh well maybe it was, so what. She likes it. Don’t you, honey?”

“Yes, but…” You felt funny again. Tingly. “This is too much. Really. You’re both so kind but I can’t accept this.”

A hand laid gently on your shoulder and you looked up at a frowning Warren Farrow. “It’s no trouble at all, my dear.”

“The cost must’ve —”

“No cost, really. Gemstones and crystals are quite popular these days. You can find them all over. And the little trinkets are just the same. Given to you in good faith of course.” He patted your shoulder gently.

You swallowed, eyes once again roving over the little mundane treasures. Silken feathers brushed against your ankle under the table and you met those red eyes, sparkling like the crystals in your basket.

Lou was such a funny little thing. So expressive, he looked as if he were waiting as he stared at you.

So funny.

… You felt funny.

Perhaps the anxiety from before was doubling back, just like that prickling sensation. It was less of a tingle and more a shiver or chill as you sat there.

“I think it’s about time for dessert, don’t you?” Mrs. Farrow was saying somewhere far away. “You like chocolate, sweetheart? I made mousse, all fancy-like. It’s not as fancy as the kind you get at that restaurant downtown, the Ivy, but they’ve got fancy ingredients and such…”

Reaching up to wipe the sheen of sweat from your forehead, you felt heat coming off from between your temples. With a shaky breath, you slumped down in your seat.

The basket was gone.

Your chair was scraping against the wooden floor as it was pulled out from the table.

“Are you feeling alright, my dear?”

Wrinkled hands swept the hair from your face as your eyes rolled in their sockets. Words couldn’t get past the cotton-dry feeling in your throat.

“It’s the wine, the wine. Said she’s not much of a drinker, it has to be the wine.”

Cass’s voice was dampened and thick, like it was trapped underwater.

Or perhaps you were trapped. Your head was spinning, limbs heavy as if you were a puppet sans strings. You had to be picked up from under your arms like a toddler and pulled upright.

The next second you were walking through your neighbors’ kitchen, the door held open for you.

“Maybe we oughta call a doctor? Honey, can you hear me?”

“I… yes. I can hear you.” It felt like an Olympic feat, but you spoke clearly. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s happening.”

You stumbled against the wall and strong arms caught you when your knees buckled. It was Mr. Farrow allowing you to lean on him, solid as a rock.

“Cass is right, you had quite a bit of wine.” He said. Another pat to your shoulder.

Did you? You could’ve sworn it was just a glass.

Your apartment was barren and blank, the smell of laundry comforting against the memory of that earthy incense smell.

“Get some rest, honey. We’re right across the hall.”

“Thank you.” You breathed, lying on your sofa bed. “Again, I’m very sorry. Thank you for the welcome.”

“Oh no, thank you.”

——

When you opened your eyes next, you were shrouded in darkness. The outline of your entertainment system was in front of you, and the kitchen at your right.

It was raining outside; little raindrops smattering against the glass. The sound was normal, no longer muffled until you were straining to hear it.

‘Well that’s good.’

The heavy feeling in your arms was still present.

‘That’s not so good.’

You felt perfectly sane and hysterical at the same time. It was like being caught in the eye of a storm. The danger had abated momentarily, but would begin again shortly.

Your door opened, and in your peripheral you saw a shadow cut across the wall as a new figure emerged from the hall.

You squinted in the dark. ‘Lou?’

The duck’s silhouette stilled as if you’d spoken aloud. You could feel something shift in the air, tension breaking through to your mind when it could not seize your body.

That shift grew stronger, sucking in the air around it until a dazzling flash and crack of light blinded you.

Lou’s shadow was gone. Or… it had changed. The shadow on the wall wasn’t a duck anymore it was…

Your blood ran cold as the man stepped into your apartment and let the door close behind him.

“Hello there!”

#hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel

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magics-neptunes-things · 2 months

Text

Pretzel Chocolate

Hi guys!

This is a request I add some days ago, I know it kind of the same background as @alessiasfreckles current story. But I asked her before and she kindly accepted it. So thanks to her too ♥ (Go check her work, it really is amazing)

It's a little less sweet that what I usually write with Wally, but I hope you will like it.

TW : Accident, Loss memory, Angst but happy ending

______________________________________________________________

Clearly, you didn’t expect that when you innocently get in your team’s bus back to London. Like your girlfriend Lia, you’re a footballer and that’s how you got to know each other. You quickly fell in love with the Swiss girl and after some very disturbing flirting attempts on your part, Lia saved you from humiliation by asking yourself for a date. You agreed and the rest is history.

You were sleeping peacefully in the front of the bus when the accident happened. Most of your teammates had gathered in the back for a wild game cards, allowing you to catch up on your sleep peacefully. Over time, you get used to falling asleep with Mackenzie’s Australian-sounding curses when she loses, Kristie’s happy exclamations, or Katrina’s laugh.

You have no memory of the accident, you don't know why and how the driver ran straight into a pole, throwing you out of your seat under the violence of the shock and putting you at the top of the list of wounded with a vital emergency when help arrived.

Lia was at a team bonding and will remember perfectly when Mackenzie called Caitlin shortly after the accident, in shock of what had just happened. She will remember the blood that suddenly left her ex-girlfriend’s face and the horrified look she gave her. She will also remember that she needed to be told things three times so that the information was anchored in her brain and that Leah was more reactive than her, taking her to the London hospital where you were having your operation at that moment.

She will also remember the relief of learning that you are alive, but the distress of not knowing when and if you will wake up. Nor in what state. But she will also remember the unfailing support of Leah and Lotte who kept her company in the waiting room for hours.

********

When you regain consciousness, the first thing you face is a blinding light that make you close your eyes again quickly. You hear different beeps around you, whispers of voices and the sound of a chair being dragged on the floor that makes you open your eyes instinctively.

You are this time facing the faces of several people, who look at you attentively. One of them is dressed all in white, a man of about fifty years certainly who slowly approaches you by looking at you carefully.

"Can you hear me?"

You nod, bitterly regretting your gesture when your vision is blurred and a pain awakens in your skull. You wince and moan in pain, your eyes flickering when one of the two women in the room takes your hand in hers. She seems to be on the verge of a panic attack or passing out.

"Where am I?" you ask, difficulty articulating.

"At the hospital in London. You had a traffic accident two weeks ago. Do you remember?"

"No…" you frown, searching your mind for any information.

"It’s normal" the doctor assures you with a smile, noting a few words on his notepad "Can you tell me today’s date?"

As he looks up at you, he must feel the fear that begins to take hold of you. The hand on yours tightens around yours, but you are quickly diverted from this by the professional who talks again.

"What year are we?"

This time, you're way more scared. You know nothing about it. You are unable to be even close to the reality.

"It doesn’t matter, everything is fine. Tell me the closest memory of today that you have.”

"I…"

It’s the nothingness in your memory. You turn your brain upside down, without being able to get anything out of it.

From the corner of your eye, you see the two women exchanging a look, without you being able to understand what it's about. And, when you realize that you cannot give your own identity, it's panic that takes hold of you.

A few hours later, you finally come to yourself again. After your panic attack, the doctor gave you a sedative that sent you into the clouds. You come back to yourself, but your memory is still lacking, despite all the different stimuli tried by the doctors. Aside from getting annoyed and tired, it doesn’t change anything. And it's finally when one of the two unknowns women asks them dryly to leave you alone that it stops. You are grateful to her, you hope that the look you cast at her speaks for you.

You have no memory of your love life, your past, your present or your family. The doctors warned your parents who came immediately, apparently not living very far from London. You learned in the meantime that the two young women in the room are respectively called Lia and Leah, the pronunciation being the same, it confused you a few seconds. But when the brunette mumbled that she was nicknamed Wally, you decided to go for it too. You found out you were friends, Leah showed you some pictures to prove it.

Other friends came to visit you, including Mackenzie who came with a photo album so you could list the people who mattered to you. Lia is very often at your side, discreet, almost mute. You’ve noticed that her eyes get wet sometimes and then she apologizes before leaving your room in hurry.

"She cares about you and is worried" Mackenzie answered kindly at your questions.

"I think I care about her too, even if I don't remember. Seeing her sad make me sad" you mumble.

Mackenzie smiles at you, squeezing your hand in hers. She was in the accident as well and only got out with a slight concussion. Most of the players (you learned that you were a professional footballer) got away without serious injuries. There's only you.

You learned that you play football, like most people who come to see you at the hospital. And you’re playing pretty well. You play for West Ham but also in the England national team and you even won the Euro in 2022. Unfortunately, you are without a screen for many more weeks. So, Lia came back to see you once with photos of the event. You pose there beside Leah and other people who also came to see you. Beth, Alessia, Lotte and many others.

But you don’t remember that either.

********

Staring at the clock on the walls of your room, you wait for time to pass. Leah and Wally are supposed to come see you and you can’t help but feel some excitement at the thought. You appreciate when Lia comes to see you, she is calm, gentle and always very attentive to your needs. You seemed close before your accident and it’s probably stupid since she’s in a relationship with Leah, but you want to find back the bond you had.

"Hi there!" cheers Leah, entering your room soon after.

She carries Swiss chocolate and some flowers. She put the old ones in the trash to put the new ones on the table. You look at her, lying in your bed, a little bit tired. You had exercises to try to have your memories back all the afternoon, but it didn't go well.

"Thank you, Leah" you answer, slightly smiling. "Are you alone? Where is your girlfriend?"

"My girlfriend?"

Leah frown, looking at you. You frown too, you know you have a bad memory, but you saw both interact together.

"Well... Wally?"

"Wally? She's not my girlfriend" Leah laughs. "She's one of my best friends though."

"Oh... I thought... You look close."

You shrug your shoulders and you see Leah sitting on the chair next to your bed, tilting her head on the side while looking at you.

"We are. But in a friendly way"

She smiles at you and you smile back. You feel like she want to ask you something but didn't. You don't have anything to remember, so you try to work on your intuition to guess things. And you usually are very good at this. But you didn't insist, something else coming in your head anyway.

"We... We only were friends, you and me right?"

"Yes" laughs Leah "Don't get me wrong, you're very cute but..."

There is no but, because Wally is entering the room at this moment. She looks at Leah with a special gaze, making the blonde looking a little bit uneasy.

"Hi" you say, trying to dismiss the tension you don't understand.

Lia's eyes are coming on you and her face softened, giving you a small smile.

"Hi Y/N"

Her accent is special, you asked her where she's from the other day and learn that she's from Switzerland. After that, you asked one nurse what Switzerland looks like and she came back with a travel-themed magazine, the principal subject being Switzerland this month. You didn't ask Lia if you already went there, sometimes she looks so sad about your situation that you want to cry too.

She comes to kiss your cheek, before giving you the chocolate Leah was caring.

"Swiss chocolate. It's your favorite."

You look at the package with curiosity, turning it in your hands. Milk chocolate with pretzel in it.

Your loved ones have been instructed to give you secondary information about your tastes, preferences or things you like. But they must not give you information that you have not looked for yourself before. That’s why you don’t know anything about your love life, some of your past too.

You remembered some things, like how you hate artichokes so much or what your bedroom looked like when you were a teenager. Maybe you should have left this information behind when you think about the number of posters of all kinds that covered your wallpaper.

After hesitating, you open the tablet to take a square and eat it. It's not surprising that it's your favorite, the flavor is exceptional. As you enjoy your chocolate, a picture dances before your eyes. A living room with a fireplace located right next to a TV. The wooden floor is light and there is a coffee table between the sofa and the TV.

"Do I have a fireplace in my house?"

Leah and Lia exchange a look, and it's finally Leah who answers you with a little sorry smile.

"No, you live in an apartment.”

"Oh…"

You sigh softly, a little disappointed. You don’t realize that in Lia’s eyes looking at you, there’s hope for the first time since your accident. You strive to engrave this vision in your mind to forget as little as possible.

Lia sitting next to you, you instinctively seek her hand, mixing your fingers with hers. You realized a few days ago that the feeling soothes you and since Lia doesn't seem disturbed by this kind of gestures, you don't deprive yourself of it.

********

"Did Lia come to see you?"

You look up at Alessia, who has come to keep you company for the day. Her eyes are placed on the chocolate bar opened on your bedside table and a smile decorates her lips. Apparently, your chocolate tastes seem to be known to everyone.

"Yeah, she was here earlier with Leah."

You repost the crossword book that Alessia brought you, as well as some Spanish specialties received by Lucy, with whom you also play in the national team. You are apparently close to her too, but since she plays in another country and you aren't allowed to use electronic devices now, you haven't been able to exchange much. She wrote you several letters though, telling you about her dog, her love life and her life in Barcelona. That’s probably what you’re talking about when you call. It took you several days to answer something in writing, your concentration being still difficult sometimes. But you managed to do it.

"I thought they were together. Lia and Leah"

Alessia looks at you with an expression that mixes surprise, tenderness and fun.

"Many fans thought they were together before they denied the rumors. You remembered Leah’s ACL, right?" asks Alessia before continuing when you answer positively "Lia was very present for Leah at that time. I guess it brought them closer."

You nod thoughtfully, playing mechanically with the pen you always have in your fingers. You did remember Leah’s injury, which kept her away from the World Cup you apparently competed in last summer. You have a few images in mind, like kangaroos you saw with Ella or a laugh when Mary showed you a video of Alessia traumatized by a turkey.

You miss those moments we stole from you, and you can’t remember them. It’s frustrating and it makes you very sad sometimes. You wish you could get your life back, but it’s not working right now. Your parents come to see you regularly and show you photo albums of you as a child, with your brother and cousins. You seem to be numerous and you seem to be in the youngest of this generation.

"You’ll remember, Y/N" Alessia says gently, putting a hand on your knee.

You give her a little smile before you nod. Yes, you will remember. You have no choice.

********

Several things have been put in place to help you regain your memory. You have a medical treatment to take every day, you have psychotherapy and hypnosis sessions and you also have a sports routine to respect. This last thing isn't a bad idea since you are a professional footballer and if you want to get your life back, you must stay fit enough.

Sometimes you are accompanied by one of your friends, and today it is Mackenzie who helps you to return to your room. No release date has been given to you, but according to your doctors it will not be long. You don't know where you will go however, it has been highly recommended to you not to live alone for the moment. You didn’t have the guts to ask anyone. You would like to ask Lia if she would accept to host you for a while, but for a reason that you cannot determine you retreat every time you are about to ask her the question. And it’s been a few days now.

So, you are fucked up when the doctor comes back to see you in the room after your shower while you and Mackenzie watch a game on television.

"Did you find someone to have you when you left the hospital?" asks the doctor.

You feel yourself blushed and you see Macca’s face turning in your direction.

"Um… Mackenzie, I haven’t asked you this yet, but if you’re okay, I thought about you?"

Just a beautiful liar.

"Oh… yes, of course. I thought… whatever. Of course, my guest room is at your disposal."

"Thank you" you answer with a slight smile.

The next day, when Lia comes to see you and you tell her that you are going to settle for a while with Mackenzie, it would be hard not to see her face fall. You don’t understand the pinch in the heart that it makes you, but she recovers quickly, making sure that she is very happy to learn that you are better.

"Will you keep coming to see me? At Macca's?" you ask, almost timidly.

A few seconds pass during which she looks at you intensely, before nodding.

"Of course. If you feel like it"

"It would make me very happy."

She smiles at you, but with that sad smile that doesn't reach her eyes, before diverting your attention to the newspaper she brought you. You listen to her read you the latest news and you decide to offer yourself a new square of chocolate that Lia brought you, that you save with precious care. Barely in your mouth, you feel a new image coming before your eyes, pushing Lia’s voice in the background.

You’re in the same living room with the fireplace and the TV is on this time. There is a presence beside you and you hear a laugh, a laugh that gives you a strange sensation in the hollow of your belly. When you open your eyes, Lia doesn’t seem to have noticed anything. But these images caused a question in your mind and you interrupt the reading of the Swiss.

"Lia?"

"Yes?"

The brunette raises the nose of the newspaper with a curious air, looking at you attentively.

"I just… don’t take this question for what it isn’t, but I’ve never heard you laugh since you came to see me."

"It’s not really a question" ended up answering Lia after long seconds of silence.

She’s not wrong and you bite your lip, looking for the best way to put your point of view in a better light.

"I just don’t want you to feel obligated to come here, if it weighs on you. I love your presence here, but if it’s too heavy for you…"

"No. It’s important for me to come and see you."

Your eyes cross for a few moments and you only see sincerity in the green eyes of your interlocutor. You end up smiling and holding out a hand that she doesn’t hesitate to grasp. Only then do you notice the ring she’s wearing on her finger. It’s not an engagement ring, but the kind of ring you get for duck fishing at the fair. You find it strange that Lia is wearing something that is quite suitable for children.

"What is this ring?" you ask curiously.

It reminds you something, but you feel like you’re looking for a needle in a fog. Lia seems to have understood, since she looks at you briefly before answering you.

"What do you think?"

You bite your lip, searching again and again. Lia gives you time and unlike the exercises you do for your memory, you feel no pressure. Lia exudes kindness and the way her thumb caresses the back of your hand helps you a lot.

"I gave it to you."

You leave the ring colored rainbow to focus your eyes on Lia whose face is suddenly radiant. You don’t remember all the details, but you do remember the decor around you when you take out this plastic ring from its paper packaging. And of your insistence on putting it on Lia’s finger, the latter accepting not without rolling her eyes.

"Yes, it’s you" confirms Lia in a soft voice despite the excitement that seems to have gripped her.

"I don’t remember when it was" you mumble in an apology tone.

Meanwhile, Lia got up from her chair to sit on the mattress of your bed, on which you are sitting too. She always have her smile, a real smile this time. And when she affectionately passes her hand through your hair, you feel like butterflies in the hollow of your belly.

"It doesn’t matter" Lia gently says "It will come back. I know it."

You want to kiss her suddenly. You wonder what sensations her lips might give you. But, before you can answer this urge, knocks are made at the door of your room, letting in Katrina, Clara and Harper.

"I’ll leave you with your new guests" decides Lia.

You’re having a hard time covering up your disappointment, even though you’re happy to see Harper.

"I’ll see you tomorrow before we leave for Manchester." Lia informs you before putting a kiss on your head.

********

"Why does Lia looked sad when I told her I was going to live with Mackenzie?"

You are walking Leah Mom's dog with Leah, during a rather cloudly afternoon. You doctor asked you to stay in shape and because you're not ready to go back to training, you do as much as you can to move. You go to the stores walking and your coach sent you bodybuilding and endurance exercises to do every day.

Leah looked at you for some seconds, before answering you. You know you were friends before your accident, but you don't know if you talked to the other a lot. Still, you feel safe with her. You know you can talk to her.

"I feel like you already know the answer for this question."

You bite your lip, looking at Bella running after ducks. And Leah running after Bella soon after, trying to protect those poor ducks. When the blonde come back next to you like nothing happened, she pats your arm.

"Talk to her. Wally really cares about you and I'm sure she misses you"

"She said she will still come to see me. But she never came" you mumble, without looking at Leah.

You don't understand. You thought you were close and Lia's absence made you realize that you maybe have like a crush on her. Which is stupid, why in the world would she have interest in someone broken like you are? But you still miss her.

"She's going to kill me for saying that" Leah sighs, pinching the base of her nose, before looking at you "She thinks you are developing feelings for Macca. Like romantic feelings"

"What?! That's the stupidest thing I ever heard since my accident."

Well of course Mackenzie is sweet and you understand why she was your best friend before and you really like the idea that you can still have that after all that. Of course, you don't know her like Caitlin or Alanna does, but of all your teammates, she's the one you’re closest to.

Leah shrugs and call Bella to going back home.

"Like I said, talk to her."

You hum for any answer, your hands stuck in the pockets of your jogging and the brain turning a thousand an hour. It’s only after saying goodbye to Leah on her doorstep that you realize that it doesn’t explain why Lia would stop seeing you if you were really in love with Mackenzie.

She’s watching a movie with her own girlfriend when you come back home. Since they have been waiting for you to eat, you sit at the table with them and try to stay focused on the discussion, but your mind is elsewhere. You are relieved to have the opportunity to find the calm of the guest room, in which you decide to offer yourself a new piece of chocolate offered by Lia.

You were disappointed to find that no other square allowed you to remember other things as the first two times. This is the last squares you have left; you will have at worst the excuse to want extra chocolateif you need excuse to contact Lia.

Lying on your back, on your bed, you swallow the last chocolate crumbs you have left, your eyes fixed on the ceiling.

But, while you don’t expected more, a new flash comes dancing before your eyes.

The same living room, the same television, the same fireplace and the same laugh. Except this time when you turn your head, Lia is sitting next to you. She looks much happier than you’ve seen her since you opened your eyes. And the way she looks at you… Like you’re the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

When the image dissipates, you blink several times.

You remember.

Not necessarily in every detail and in order, but you remember.

You remember Lia, how much you hate that nickname of Wally that others give her, your relationship, your first kiss and the long weekend she took you to Switzerland.

You remember.

Your hands shaking, you’re getting out of bed. You’re as wrinkled as if you’d been running a whole game. Other memories are jostling in your head, but the only thing you want now is to go see Lia.

"I’m going to Lia's!" you shout at Mackenzie down the stairs.

You barely take the time to throw your coat on your shoulders before going out and slamming the door. When you see the rain falling on London, you congratulate yourself.

********

It’s with frowns that Lia picks up her phone some time later. There’s basically no reason for Caitlin to call her so late.

"Hello?"

"Lia? It’s Caitlin… Listen, I’m calling you from Mackenzie, she doesn’t have your phone number and uh… Did Y/N make it to your house?"

"Y/N? No? Why would she be at my house?"

Other voices are audible behind Caitlin and there are different noises before Mackenzie’s voice sounds in the phone.

"She left my house almost two hours ago, without her phone, telling me she was coming to your house."

"She’s not here" Lia replies, standing abruptly on her couch, feeling panic take hold of her. "Why did you let her go by herself?"

"I thought she ordered an Uber or something. But without her phone…"

"Do we call the police?" asks Lia.

"They will laugh in our faces" replies Katie’s voice, which is apparently there too.

It’s not surprising if Mackenzie went to see Caitlin. But this is probably not the time to ask these questions.

"I’ll go get my car and do some research in the neighborhood" Lia decides.

After deciding to do the same and giving herself directions not to turn in the same places, Caitlin and Lia hang up their phones before starting to look for you.

For your part, it’s not very glorious. Persuaded to find the way back to Lia’s house now that your memory has returned, you have dug into the streets without thinking too much. Except that you suddenly had a hesitation, then another and a third, which eventually led you to no longer know where you are. Or where you’re from.

To top it off, it’s still raining and you haven’t taken your medication to fight your chronic headaches since the accident.

Long story short, you are now in tears, sitting on a sidewalk of an unknown street, in the rain.

Finally, while she had lost hope, Lia sees your silhouette sitting out in the light of a lamppost. Her cry asking Leah, who came to the rescue, to stop, gives her a start of cardiac arrest. But the blonde obeys and Lia hurries out of the car, running in your direction.

You jump suddenly when someone sits next to you, your first reaction being to get as far away from that person as possible. But you realize quite quickly that it’s Lia and anyway she doesn’t leave you much choice by squeezing you suddenly in her arms. Hard.

“God, are you ok? What happened?” Lia asks, taking your face between her hands to look at you.

“I thought I can remember where you live, I needed to see you but then I got lost and I didn’t have my phone with me.”

“Why didn’t you call me?!”

Lia raised her voice a little and you flinch, but the Swiss woman seems to regret it as soon as it happened. She takes you once again against her, her arms firmly tightened around your body. It makes you feel safe. You’re tired, exhausted to be honest. But you know you still owe her an explanation.

“I wasn’t sure you will take my call. You said you will come to see me, and you didn’t even if I’m at Macca’s since almost two weeks now, and…”

“I’m so sorry” Lia cut you, looking at you with tears in her eyes. “But I just… I couldn’t.”

“It’s ok” you breath before staring deep into her eyes “I remember.”

A silence passes. Lia is looking at you, too.

“What?”

“I remember. My past, my childhood memories. It’s you who have a fireplace in your living room. I remember you, mein Schatz. I remember us.”

After that, it went a little chaotic. When Lia starts to cry for good, Leah almost gets out of her car, but then she see you both kiss and she understands. She takes her phone to ring Caitlin and let you some minutes before taking you both back in her car. She drops you at Lia’s, giving you one big hug before leaving you.

********

Hours later, you’re in Lia’s bed after a good hot shower. Lia gave you some fresh clothes and you can’t stop smelling them. They smell like her, like your girlfriend.

Your girlfriend who is actually looking at you like you will disappear at any moment. You can’t blame her though, so you just grab her hand and take her against you to kiss her.

“Why didn’t you tell me everything?” you mumble after the kiss.

“They didn’t want me to. They said it would be too much for you or that you won’t remember everything if we told you the truth. Your brother fights with the doctors against it, but he didn’t have the last word. I should have fight against it too, but I wanted what was the best for you, and they were the doctors, so…”

Lia shrugs, her head on the cushion, still looking at you. You can’t imagine what she went through.

“It must have been so hard for you” you whisper, stroking lightly at her face

“It was. But I knew I had to do if I wanted to have you back at some point. But then after you choose to go to Mackenzie’s and I kind of freak out. What if, even if you remember in some days, you realize that you’re in love with her and not me anymore?”

“I don’t. She always had been my friend, nothing more. It has always been you, since we crash your team” you add with a smirk.

You met Lia during a friendly game between Switzerland and England in 2022. Leah Williamson had made the presentation between you and since then you never stop talking. She asked you on a date after two weeks of texting, you said yes and everything went great since then. Even if you’re a West Ham player dating an Arsenal one.

“I thought you were with Leah, the first days after the accident” you confess at your girlfriend.

Lia frown, looking at you oddly.

“Why did you?”

“Dunno. You were like always together, but I understand now. I’m glad Leah was there for you.”

You are confident in your relationship. Even if the fans seems to like Lia and Leah together, you trust your girlfriend and your friend deeply. Plus, you’re kind of a fan of their friendship. Maybe people would find strange that your girlfriend went to live with another girl like Lia have done when Leah was injured, but you didn’t. You know how good Lia’s heart is.

“I love you” Lia whispers, before kissing you.

You smile against her lips and she doesn’t let you the time to answer before kissing you once again, hard this time. You let her. You still can tell her how much you love her later.

_________________________________________________

It’s way longer than I thought at first 😅

#lia wälti imagine #lia walti imagine #lia wälti x reader #lia walti x reader #lia walti #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso x reader #woso fanfics

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