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gghostwriter · 2 months ago

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i saw you opened your fluff requests so how about this: reid recieves an invitation to a high-school reunion back in Vegas but he doesn't want to go because of his bad childhood. but his best friend (who is completely in love with him) convinces him to go, and offers to be his fake girlfriend to hype him up and make him feel more comfortable. he agrees and ends up confessing his love on the same football field he was bullied on

please feel no pressure to write this, it's just an idea i thought was cute

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader Trope: Friends to lovers; Fluff with a mix of pining wc: 2.1k A/N: Reader is not part of the BAU, but she just still work for the FBI. By far, this is my longest request written (it's a chapter length) and I don't know how it became so long but I hope you enjoy it still! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💗 Main masterlist

Rewriting History. // Spencer Reid

It was the heavy scent of books and wood that welcomed you home. Street lights reflecting off the emerald green walls, bathing the apartment space a warm golden hue. There was peace and stillness, your roommate of two years, Spencer Reid, nowhere to be seen—a usual occurrence that came with his and your job too, being FBI agents under the BAU and CACU, respectively.

You sluggishly made your way to your bedroom, adjacent Spencer’s closed door. Flipping open the switch, your worn body collapsed on the plush vanity chair as thoughts about the darkness of your job slip away and get replaced with melancholy on your connection with the boy genius. It was a relationship nurtured by grueling times in the academy—a connection forged out of convenience at first before becoming this convoluted and intimate bond all because you ended up falling for him.

It wasn’t a conscious choice and Spencer didn’t make it any easier. He was a closed off castle complete with a moat and a secret password—painfully shy and awkward in nature. If it wasn’t for required partnership in physical classes, you doubted you’d get as close as you were now.

A beep brought you out of your musings.

And as if he knew you were thinking of him, it was a text message from Spencer informing you of his return home in a few minutes.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself out of the chair and changed into a set of clothes—a faded Caltech tee, that you never returned, and a pair of black leggings

Padding across to the kitchen, you opened the refrigerator and silently thanked your past self for prepping dinner for two in advance. With how irregular both your schedules were and Spencer’s apparent lack of skill in cooking, it fell upon your shoulders to make sure he isn’t living off of cold pizzas and Chinese takeouts.

As the second plate of food was heating up in the microwave, the chiming of keys softly echoed from outside the mahogany door.

“Hey Spencer,” you called out from the kitchen counter.

A series of rustles and a soft hey answered back.

You tilted your head to the side in contemplation, something was wrong and as he turned the corner, shoulders curving in on itself and brows furrowed, something must definitely be wrong.

“Tough case?” You asked, bringing both plates to the rounded dinner table.

“Yeah—” Spencer shook his head. “Actually no, not really but I got an email from Las Vegas.”

Your spoonful of soup hung midair, immediately concerned with the email contents. “Is it your mom? Is she okay?’

Having visited Diana in numerous occasions with and without Spencer, you’ve learned to love that woman fiercely too. She was a breath of fresh air—blunt during her lucid days and smart during her academic lectures.

“It’s from my high school, an invitation for the reunion.”

Ah. “And you’re not sure if you want to go?”

He shrugged, chewing his slice of chicken before answering. “There’s really no one I want to reconnect with, you know. No happy memories really.”

“That’s true,” you nodded along.

During the first few nights moving in the apartment, Spencer had shared the lows he had to go through just to get to where he was now at such a young age—endlessly mocked for being a geek, no friend group or single confidant to watch his back, and the utter humiliation of being tied naked on a football post. You had an inkling that the genius had gone through bullying, it was a sad norm in all schools, especially in public, but hearing it first hand had brought home just how much of his closed off and shy personality was a product of his trials.

You tapped your fingers on the table. “I think you should go.”

“What?”

“Yeah, yeah. To show all those mean bullies where you are now,” your back straightening from the idea. “They’ll talk about you in passing anyway, whether you’re there or not so might as well be there to show them up and defend yourself plus—” you paused, taking a sip of water before barreling through. “—you’ve become quite handsome since then. Don’t you think?”

His hazel eyes widened in surprise, further adding to his appeal. Spencer was so innocent that he didn’t know the effect he had on women—first evidence was yourself and the second was Lila Archer. “Y-you think I’ve become handsome?”

With warmth spreading on your cheeks, you nodded. “You’ve always been handsome to me.”

Spencer started coughing, hand beating on his chest as the food threatened to go down the wrong tube.

Alarmed, you quickly stood up and started patting his back for assistance. How embarrassing was this—the first time you blatantly flirted with the man you formed intense attraction for ends up with him almost choking. Was this a sign maybe to not push your luck? You’ve done just about anything to nudge Spencer’s mind in acknowledging your feelings, from remembering all his little quirks (all were just so cute), actively listening to his tangents (all very informative and interesting), and even sometimes delivering a box of donuts to his team (all in the name of seeing his face brighten up) but none seemed to have worked. So, you opted to tell him in words and look what that did to him.

You gnawed on your lower lip. Maybe it was best to pull back, maybe it was best to throw in—

He cleared his throat before his hand reached yours situated on his shoulder. There was a slight tremor before it closed around your all of a sudden clammy palm. “I’ll go if you go with me.”

Filter off your brain. “As a fake girlfriend type of thing?”

You shut your eyes closed, promising to yourself to stop reading those unrealistic romance novels that Penelope lends you.

“If—if you want,” his voice shaky and soft as rustles could be heard in the background.

Opening your eyes, Spencer was now fully facing you. Eyes roaming your face and body—profiling you.

A small smile graced your lips. “Okay.”

———

The second thing your brain thought of was how oddly fitting that the reunion was held at the school gym, located beside the football field. The first thought being how Spencer looked devastatingly handsome in his suit and tie.

His attire wasn’t that different from his usual in the FBI but there was a hidden meaning behind his choices. The patterned brown blazer was a gift you had given to him for his first anniversary working at the FBI and his tie matched the color of your dress.

It made you feel warm even though a shiver went down your spine as a sudden gust of wind passed by.

Spencer slid closer towards you. “Do you want my coat?”

“I’m alright, thanks for asking Spence,” you looked up, smiling in reassurance. The fairy lights hung in rows emphasized how structured his face was. A high nose bridge, similar to his mother’s, and high cheekbones that made your fingers twitch in want to caress. He was stunning to look at—a view you feared you’d never get enough of.

“Spencer Reid!” A booming male voice shouted from across the gymnasium causing a few heads to swivel. Based on the other attendees reactions—giving them ample space as they passed and the stares tracking their every move, you knew who he was right away. A former bully.

“How are you?” he reached out his hand for a handshake. One that Spencer stared at before bringing his hand up to a wave, lips in a tight lipped smile.

“Hey Paul, nice to see you.”

“Is it?” He chuckled before turning his eyes on you. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

You stated out your name, tone very similar when you’re on the field—cold and professional.

“Look at you, Spencer, having such a pretty girlfriend. Heard you work for the FBI now, is that how you two met?”

A saccharine smile spread across your lips. Your boy genius had been stiff ever since Paul called out his name. Having have heard how Spencer once reacted to a case where the unsub was a high school victim, you knew where his mind was at the moment. Grappling with the hurt from the past and trying his best not to lash out from the scars it had left behind. “Yeah, we met at the Academy and just clicked. He was such a gentleman that I couldn’t say no when he asked me out for a date.”

“That’s good to hear. Listen, man, is it alright if I talk to you for a second? Alone?”

You brushed the back of your hand with his, bringing his attention to you. There was a slight furrow in between his brows and his stature was taut, like a stretched out bow that needs to release it’s arrow. This was one of the few times, you could tell, that Spencer was unsure what to do. There was no malice behind Paul’s request and although you weren’t a profiler yourself, the slight hunch on the former bully’s shoulder silently communicated his remorse.

Spencer’s eyes trained on yours and as if he found the answer within the depths of your gaze, he slightly smiled, squeezing your hand in his before turning back and nodding to the interloper.

“I’ll go get a refill,” you lifted your empty cup to excuse yourself.

In truth, you stood idly near the punch bowl and kept your eyes glued on the male duo. Paul was looking down, shuffling his feet, before taking a deep breath and looking straight at Spencer. He uttered a few words you couldn’t make of and in turn, Spencer’s body relaxed and he nods once. With an offer for a handshake, one that Spencer shook, Paul walked away as you made your way back to your partner’s side.

“Good talk?” you asked.

“He apologized,” Spencer muttered, eyes studying you before grasping your hand back to his. “No refill?”

You shrugged. “Didn’t feel like it anymore. Say Spence—” he titled his head as an answer. “Want to get out of here?”

He chuckled, eyes twinkling with relief. “Thought you’d never ask.”

———

The cicadas were singing their tune as you and Spencer stepped out to the football field. The grass lush in color and the faint smell of wet earth wafted around. Grateful that you opted to wear sensible flats rather than the high heels Penelope was bartering you to wear, you held Spencer’s hand tight as he started recollecting the worst bullying that happened in the same place many years ago.

“That—” he pointed at the goalpost on the far right. “—was where I was left tied up. I remember feeling worried that I would catch hypothermia as the rain kept coming and going that day and I remember feeling sad when I got home and my mother didn’t notice me missing.”

Your voice caught in your throat.

He continued on. “They say people forget events as they grow older and I wished I had the luxury of that.”

“Because of your eidetic memory,” you sighed. It was a blessing and a curse to have.

“But I was thinking, maybe I could rewrite it instead?”

There was a thick layer of hope behind his words causing you to turn, fully facing him this time.

“I—I’ve been keeping a secret from you for 24 months and 182 days and I don’t know if this would change our relationship or ruin it but you’re my person, my best friend—” he took a deep breath. “—and I’m in love with you.”

People say there are moments in your life that would upend everything as you know it and tilt everything to an axis, you never understood what they meant by that, up until this moment. The twinkling night stars suddenly appeared brighter, the temperature warmer, and the force that tethered you to Earth was no longer gravity, it was now Spencer Reid.

You smiled, eyesight blurring from tears. His trembling fingers reached out to wipe the droplets making its path down your cheeks.

“I’m in love with you too, Spencer Reid, since the beginning.”

And as if the world needed more proof, he smiled—his bright, full teeth smile and you felt your heart halt before starting back up again.

It was proof that he owned the beating organ in your chest and all the emotion that came with it.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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yawnderu · 1 year ago

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Sex Pollen — Nikto x Reader

CW: rough sex, humiliation, dirty talk, mild mind break.

"Жoпа... what did you do to us?" He whispers into your ear, voice rumbling as his strong arms hold you in place, hard cock rubbing against your ass from behind. Your own body responded to him before your hazy brain could even register his words, hips moving just enough to meet his lazy thrusts halfway.

"I'm sorry, Nikto... we didn't know." Yet it was still stupid. Your brain goes back to what caused this hot mess— going on a mission to an abandoned lab to gather intel, and Horangi being stupid enough to start picking up random vials and throwing them against the wall. You followed suit, ignoring the stern look Nikto shot your way when he entered the room you were at.

"You didn't know." He mocks with fake pity, voice growing even deeper, the sound rumbling from his chest to his throat. His mask presses against your neck as he begins to pull down your pants and underwear just enough to reveal your sweet cunt. A sharp hiss coming out of his lips before his hand fumbles to pull up the zipper of his flight suit and pull out his hard cock, sliding it between your thighs.

"Сука." He whispers right into your ear, cock sliding right along your slick folds. Nikto was a man of discipline, someone who was always able to resist any urges or temptation, yet here he was, grinding on you like a dog in heat, and you're letting him. You both know exactly what the drug you released from the vial was— the painful boner Horangi was trying (and failing) to hide on the helo ride back to base confirmed your suspicions.

"You are not sorry enough." His gloved hand grabs onto the back of your neck, manhandling you until your upper body is resting on the cold surface of your old desk, nipples hardening at the feeling of the cold metal hitting them directly.

"Fuck—" It's almost painful, the growing heat between your legs, your pulse quickening each passing second that you're not feeling his cock all over your pathetically wet cunt, yet that's short lived.

"What? Can't handle the consequences of your own actions, slut?" He softly kicks your legs apart, getting a better view at your cunt, glistening in the dim light of your quarters, the drug making your body respond before your brain. The tip of his dick sinks into you painfully slow, a small groan coming out of his throat at the new sensation on his already sensitive tip.

"Filthy little whore." He makes sure he's lined up well before thrusting into you with force, thick cock burying itself all the way deep within your wet, needy cunt. His hold on your hip is almost bruising as he starts fucking into you, not even giving you the time to adjust to his length, yet you don't need the time anyway. The sounds of your squelching pussy would be embarrassing if you could even think clearly, but it's almost as if he's taking away your thoughts with every single deep thrust.

"Nikto—" You manage to moan out, back arching on your desk as one of your hands comes up to your chest, rubbing and pulling on one of your nipples while your cunt gets used by the Russian man. His thrusts hold no love or care— simply a primal need to cum. His strong body leans over yours, hard gear pressing into your back, yet any sort of pain is quickly replaced by the heat pooling up in your stomach.

"You're just a fucktoy—" He grunts out, deep groans coming out of his lips as he pounds into you, heavy balls slapping against your clit every single time he buries himself to the hilt.

"A piece of meat for us to use." The hard plate of his mask digs into your back as he leans his forehead over it, breath hitching at the feeling of how good your wet cunt feels, how sensitive his cock is inside you. He keeps fucking into you hard and deep, each thrust sending you both closer to the edge, his free hand joining yours on your chest. He squeezes hard, dragging a whiny moan out of you before his gloved hand begins to rub and pull on your nipple harshly.

"Need— need more." You plead, ignoring the pathetic high pitch of your voice, losing any sort of shame. You can't afford shame when your superior is fucking you hard, letting everyone hear just how true his demeaning words are. His hand on your hip goes lower, pulling your hips up and forcing you to arch your back, the new angle hitting the perfect spot inside your cunt.

"Fuck— fuck, fuck, fuckkk." Your eyes close, allowing Nikto to possess your body in every single way. How could you not submit when he's slamming his fat cock all the way in? When his rough hand is pulling on your nipple, fondling the fat when he gets bored of torturing you.

"God— I love you." The words come out of your lips without even thinking about it, not having the chance to even process them because he starts slamming into you at a punishing pace, the tip of his cock hitting the entrance of your cervix with no issues at all.

"да? You're just a fuckhole to me— nothing more." He reminds you, movements growing more intense each passing second. The room fills with the sounds of your mixed moans and the slap of skin meeting skin. Nikto can feel his release building up, the desperation to get the drug out of his system becoming all-consuming. His grip on your tit tightens, thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his own pleasure.

"Shit, I'm—" You can't even finish your sentence before your orgasm hits, cunt cramping down on Nikto's cock, legs trembling as you struggle to keep yourself up. He holds your hips higher, driving into you with a feral hunger before shoving himself all the way in, a deep grunt escaping his lips as he spills his cum inside you, body trembling with the release of his pent-up desire. His breathing is heavy and warm in your ear, slowly pulling out of you, thumbs spreading your cheeks to see the way his cum spills out of your abused hole.

"Not a word out of this." He warns, giving your ass a hard slap before shoving his cock back into his boxers and flight suit. All you can do is nod, trying your best to regain your breath as his thick, fertile seed spills down your thighs.

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snoopyracing · 8 months ago

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back to december // ln4

pairing: lando norris X reader

word count: 9k

warnings: swearing, alcohol use, and implied sex

includes: friends to lovers, pining, fluff, and angst.

summary: follows lando and the reader from the beginning of their relationship all the way until the end. based off of ‘back to december’ by taylor swift.

A/N: some of this is may not be biblically f1 accurate so please just close your eyes and pretend it is. who cares when the vibes are great. also don't forget.... i'm also just a girl...

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The days blurred together anymore, blurred into the same monotonous routine.

Wake up, get ready for work, go to work, come home, and then distract yourself from your own thoughts until it was time to go to bed. Some days were worse than others, but it was your own self destructive tendencies that got you into this state.

Today was a particularly shitty day, especially for a Friday. You couldn't wait to get home, but walking through the door to an empty apartment was something you still hadn't gotten used to. The bright warmness that always seemed to cascade through the apartment was replaced with dark coldness. The blinds were always shut now, the apartment could easily be mistaken for a vampire's liar at this point. The music that once played almost 24/7, that got you guys plenty of noise complaints, now collected dust on the shelf. The smell of dinner cooking as you walked through the door was now replaced with the Chinese takeout from two nights ago heating up in the microwave.

As you watched the plate spin your reflection in the yellow glow caught your attention. Oof. Have you really looked like this recently? The dark circles under your eyes looked like you had been taking up cage fighting as a hobby recently. You weren't sure how long you stood there, picking yourself apart, finding something new with each pass over yourself. The beeping from the microwave had been drowned out by your own thoughts.

Your phone had started to ring on the counter behind you, causing you to jump. Combine that with the now incessant beeping of the microwave and your heart was racing. You pressed answer, not bothering to glance at the caller id.

"Hello?" You asked as you opened the microwave, careful to not spill the plate as you picked it up with one hand.

The sound of your clearly already inebriated best friend filled your ears. "Heyyyyy!" You made your way to the couch, ready to stuff your face and then rot in your usual spot until you fell asleep. "I think you should get up off that couch and come over. We are having a little get together."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at her statement. She had tried multiple times after it had happened to get you to go out. She had once famously said 'the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else'. Something that you gave a hard pass to. You thought she had finally given up on trying to get you to go out. It had been maybe almost a month, if you remembered correctly, since your last invite. Also, her get little get togethers were never little. They always escalated into bigger than her house could handle parties. Not that was always a bad thing, it's just the more people the more of a chance for you to run into him, or one his friends. The idea made your stomach turn.

"Would love to, but I'm already settled in for the night. Plus, sounds like you've already started the party without me."

"Oh come on! Please come over. It's been almost three months. Even for just a little bit." Before you could decline again she was already begging for a second time. "Please. For me?"

She was right, it had been almost three months. Maybe a party could do you some good or even just getting out of this routine you've been in for months. Then your mind wandered back to the same person it always has for months. "Is he going to be there?"

"Why would he be here?"

Your eyes darted to the picture frame on the tv stand. Inside the white wooden frame was picture of him and you and all your shared friends. It was from a trip you all had taken last summer to Greece. You both looked so happy and in love, which back then you were. You really should have put that picture up a long time ago, but you couldn't. There were a lot of things you couldn't put away.

"Maybe because we have mutual friends?" You pried.

"He's probably busy this weekend or out of the country. It will be fine. Just please come."

You sighed looking up to find that same reflection from the microwave now residing in the black screen of the TV. As you glanced back between your reflection in the tv and the picture of you from almost a year ago, you decided it was time to get back to the girl you were in Greece. Even without him.

"Fine. Let me get ready and I'll be over." The squeal that came from your friend's mouth was borderline inhumane. "I'll see you in a little bit." But as you hung up the phone that creeping what the hell did i just agree to feeling had appeared.

You tried to push those thoughts aside and hurried to get ready. Maybe this sudden spontaneous so out of character decision for you lately would be a good thing. You slapped on some makeup, making sure to cover those horrible dark circles and chose a casual, yet still party worthy outfit. Honestly the person who stood staring back at you from the mirror looked like the old you. The old you, the you that was happier, the you that was and still is in love.

The uber ride to your friend's house thankfully wasn't that long, it didn't allow for you to psych yourself out and change your mind about going. As the driver pulled up to her house it didn't seem like that crazy of a party, so maybe it was just a little get together. You thanked the driver and made your way to the front door. You took a deep breath before entering, here goes nothing. As you closed to door behind you, your eyes scanned the room. Some familiar faces filled the space of the living room. They noticed your presence and gave you a smile, but nobody came over to talk. You weren't sure if you should be offended or thankful.

Weaving your way through the house, you were on a mission to find your friend, her house wasn't that big, it shouldn't take that long to find her. As you entered the kitchen you realized it was the most crowded room in the house, granted it was were all the drinks were at. You found your friend in the center of the crowd, of course, but as she spotted you coming towards her she stopped her conversations and closed the gap between the two of you. Her arms squeezed you in so tight you could barely breathe.

"I'm so glad you came!"

You smiled back at her, but wanted to get some drinks in to loosen up some. "Yeah, yeah. What about a drink? I know you've started without me."

"Here. Your favorite." She grabbed a beer from the counter, pushing it towards you.

Not your favorite, in fact you hated beer, but you took it with a smile on your face. Some more people began filtering into the kitchen. "I'm gonna go talk to them real quick." Your friend stated. She was gone before you could say anything.

You tried to find something else to drink, but it had seemed that all that was left was beer. What was this? Some high school party? You took a swig of the beer your friend had handed you, hoping your taste buds had changed, but you were wrong. The one swig was enough for you to set it back on the counter.

The kitchen was becoming a little too stuffy and your friend didn't seem to be making her way back to you anytime soon, so you slid out the door to the patio. The fresh air already making you feel better. There were some people out there, a group of guys passing around a joint and some other people just talking, but nothing like the crowd in the kitchen. The empty lounge chair at the corner of the patio was calling your name. With nothing to drink and not really anyone here that you would like to talk to, besides your friend, this party was not turning out like you had hoped. You leaned back in the chair, looking up at the night sky. You tried to find some of the constellations, but the city lights made it far too hard to do.

You could hear footsteps coming towards you and you assumed it was your friend finally coming to hang out, but it was someone far worse than that.

"I think I might see the big dipper." You froze in the chair, goosebumps formed on your skin as your stomach turned. There was no need to turn around to see who was behind you, you knew that voice anywhere. "Hi Y/N."

Hearing him say your name made your body turn towards him, but also made your heart ache. Hearing your name roll off his tongue once brought you so much joy. Now it was like a stab in the heart. Your eyes scanned over him.

Fuck.

He looked good, so good. Clearly he was doing better than you were. His tan skin somehow still glistened in the night time and his curls slightly moved with the night breeze. Even though it was dark, the light from the patio allowed you to still see those eyes of his. The ones that still made you weak in the knees.

"Hi Lando." You gave him a small smile.

Of course he would be here you thought. You should have known he would be here. You had an inkling your friend knew and did this on purpose. You could kill her, but then again it was nice to see him, even if it did hurt like a bitch.

He stared at you for a moment before taking a seat on the end on the lounge chair where your legs resided moments ago. Being in this close of proximity to him made your heart race. Fuck you missed him and it drive you crazy the effect he still had on you.

He noticed you weren't drinking anything and let out a small chuckle. "Still don't like beer huh?"

You smiled, "Never have, never will."

He nodded and looked down at his shoes. This was clearly one of the most awkward conversations you've had in a long time.

"So how's your family doing?" You thought that might be a good thing to ask, you loved his family, so in all seriousness it was a genuine question.

He took a swig of his beer. "Yeah they're good."

You just nodded at his dry answer. Could this get anymore awkward?

You could feel Lando staring at you, he took another swig of his beer before asking. "So how's your new found freedom?"

Ouch. Sensitive topic. You didn't want to talk about how much of a fuck up you were right now, so you deflected the conversation back to him. "Saw you made podium recently. Congrats."

He laughed dryly, he knew what you were doing. "Thanks."

You had started to pick at your nails, a nervous habit the both of you unfortunately shared. You didn't want your relationship to have turned out this way. You wanted to tell him right then and there that you were sorry. That you missed him more than anyone could imagine. That he didn't deserve what you put him through. That you still love him. The memories of you two came flooding back and as you two sat there on the lounge chair, close as strangers. Your mind hit replay.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Lando had been in your life for years. You had met not to long after he had been brought onto the McLaren team. If you wanted to get specific it was at a celebratory party his friends had thrown him. You were invited through mutual friends. When you went that night you had no idea you had just met the man who three years later you would be in love with. Sure you thought he was good looking, who didn't? For awhile you just remained casual friends, really not even that close. After about a year and a half of seeing him at parties, sometimes at other friends houses, and out at clubs, something had started to fester inside of you.

Needless to say you were developing a little crush. It didn't help that when you did see each other, he always went out his way to talk to you. You could walk into the room and as soon as he noticed you, whatever conversation he was having was terminated and he was soon by your side. Some more time had passed and you had heard through the grapevine that Lando was seeing someone, it stung a little, but other than showing you some attention he had made no claim to you. So, what were you to do other than just get over it and hopefully find someone new to crush on.

Though, his new relationship didn't last long and soon enough he was back to charming you. The talking occasionally at gatherings turned into texting, that then turned into texting everyday, which turned into facetiming, and then turned into you two always hanging out when he was around hanging out.

The two of you would go out to eat, to the movies, or even just hang out at each others apartments. It was always a fun time as long as you were in each others presence. You attended some races that were closer to home, always so excited to see him do the one thing he loved. The races you didn't attend though, the two of you were always in contact. Something that you always made sure of was that he never went without his 'goodluck ♡' text from you.

It had gotten to the point where your friends for sure thought you guys were dating and the public had a hunch too. You couldn't deny that your feelings for him were way beyond crush status at this point. And to say you would have rather ate glass than ask him how he felt about you was an understatement. The idea of Lando rejecting you was something that kept you up at night, so your feelings remained bottled up. That was until a sunny race day last spring.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Spring - i miss your tan skin, your sweet smile. so good to me, so right.

Lando had asked you weeks ago to come the upcoming Grand Prix in Australia. You were hesitant, Australia would be the furthest you had ever been from home and it made you a little nervous. At least, that's what you told him. The real truth was that you would've loved to go to Australia, especially to watch him race, but you just couldn't stand to be around him. Your feelings for him were making it so hard to be in his presence, especially with his naturally flirty personality. Your friends kept telling you that you were blind and that he was totally into you, but those statements always rolled off your back. To you, there was no way he felt that the same way you felt about him. So to try and protect yourself from one sided heartbreak, you distanced yourself.

All that work failed though, because here you were a week later on a plane to Australia. It didn't take much more begging from Lando for you to finally cave. Hell, he even wanted you to come early with him, but you drew the line. He had work to do and you didn't want to be in the way, because knowing Lando recently, he would have wanted you with him 24/7. Which was really tampering with your distancing yourself from him plan.

Two connecting flights later and you were finally landing in Melbourne. As you departed from the plane and collected your bags you realized maybe you should have come earlier with him. The airport was insanely busy and trying to get a Uber was going to be a huge and expensive pain in the ass.

You pulled out your phone from your pocket to see if there was even any Ubers available when a text from Lando popped up.

Lan: I've tried to send this damn message like 10 times. Wait. I hope everything's ok with the plane.....Tbh I think I would have gotten an alert or something. Or I would hope your last dying text would go to me. Anyways... text me as soon as you land. I've got a car waiting for you to bring you to the track.

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, but was very thankful for him always taking care of you. Hell, the cost alone of your plane ticket was enough to make your eyes bulge, but he took care of it like it was nothing.

You: I'm alive. The wifi sucked on the last plane. Actually don't think I can ever do 26 hours of traveling again... consider yourself lucky Norris.

It didn't take but a minute for him to respond.

Lan: I was starting to get worried. Just saying it would have been much better if you just flew down with me days ago...

You: Perhaps.... I'll see you soon.

The ride to the track was beautiful. The sun had just made its grand entrance to the world as you looked out the window. You tried to look at as much as you could on the drive over, wanting to experience as much as you could with what time you had in Australia.

Lando was waiting for you when you arrived, paddock pass in hand. Cheesy smiles were painted on both of your faces as he pulled you into a hug. His cologne alone made you weak in the knees, let alone the feeling of being in his arms.

"Missed ya," he mumbled.

As you pulled away from him you were able to get a good long look at him. There was something about him during race weekends that just made him come alive, made him hotter. Not to mention how sunkissed he looked. Australia had been very kind to him and it was something you could get used to.

He grabbed your hand pulling you along with him. "Come on. Some stuff we need to do before race time." He was being very touchy today and you could feel yourself starting to become putty in his hands.

You got about ten steps before remembering your luggage. "Wait Lan! My bags!" You turned around to see the car had left.

"Don't worry about it. I've got it taken care of."

He always seemed to be doing that, taking care of you.

The place was already alive as the two of you walked around. In a few short minutes you were in his private room and miraculously so was your luggage "You can relax in here for awhile, or do whatever. I've got some things to do but I'll come get you before the race ok?"

You nodded at him and he closed the door behind him. Glancing around the room your eyes landed on the couch and decided a quick power nap may do you some good. You weren't asleep but maybe a half an hour when the constant sound of text notifications woke you up. You grabbed your phone, nothing, not a single text. You thought maybe you were dreaming it and then you heard it again. You looked to your left to see Lando's phone on the side table. He must have forgotten it.

You weren't trying to be nosy, but you were curious as to who was blowing up his phone like that. Quickly grabbing it you saw multiple texts from multiple people from the McLaren team asking where he was at. Must be missing an interview or something you thought. Then you saw something that caught your eye, his lock screen. Behind all the text notifications was a picture of you two. It was after the the first race of his you had ever come to watch. He had a not so great finish to the race and you knew he was going to be hard on himself. So when he made it back to the garage, you were there with arms wide open, a gesture he gladly accepted. Someone must have snapped a picture of you two and sent it to him.

It was a cute picture, but your head was trying to comprehend why he had it as his lock screen. You kept telling yourself that friends don't make pictures like that their lock screen. Then your mind went to the idea of him feeling the same way about you and you could feel your heart starting to race. You weren't going to get your hopes up, but as you put the phone back on the side table you couldn't help but hold on to a little sliver of hope.

It was getting close to race time so you grabbed your bags to get ready. Of course you put on some McLaren attire, specifically some with the number four on it. Just as you were putting on your shoes there was a knock on the door and Lando's head peaks in.

"Ready?" But when he notices you've got on not just any regular McLaren shirt, but his branded one, a small smirk forms on his face.

"Yep. Let's go." You head towards the door, but stop and grab his phone. "Oh wait. I think you might've forgotten this earlier."

His cheeks flush as you hand it over to him, he knows you had to have looked at it, he knows you saw his lock screen. "There it is. Was looking for it all over." He tried to act cool as he shoved it in his pocket.

Lando leads you all through the McLaren area and some people say hi, remembering you from some of the previous races you had attended. He talks to some of the team, and as you stand back and watch you can't help but admire him. How much dedication he puts in is insane and you hoped he would get that well deserved win soon. It wasn't long before the two of you headed back towards his room so he could get ready for the race. You knew he liked to spend this time alone, he had his traditions, so you lingered in the doorway.

"You need anything before I go?"

A confused expression washed over his face. "Go where?"

Now you had the confused expression. "I figured you'd want to be alone."

"Why would I fly you all the way out here to not spend time with you?" He scooted over on the couch making room for you next to him. "C'mere."

As you fully stepped into the room and closed the door, you could feel the mood in the room change. It felt even more strange when you sat next to him on the couch. You tried to make small talk to make it less awkward. "Nervous for the race?" You weren't even looking at him when you asked the question, which was a dumb one at that.

His fingers gently grabbed your chin. "Would you look at me?" Your head turned to face his, his fingers still lingered near your face. His eyes never leaving yours and you could feel your cheeks getting warm.

Your heart was nearly beating out of your chest. "Lan-"

"God you drive me crazy." His hand now had made a home on your thigh. "In a good way."

"Lando what are you doing?" If he thought you were driving him crazy, he should see how he's making you feel.

He paused, like he was trying to figure out what to say. "Putting my heart and today's race on the line."

Oh god

"Here goes nothing." He took a deep breath. "As much as it sounds like a cliche. I truly think I liked you from the very first time we met. I just didn't realize it until much later. Then I got into my head and figured you didn't feel the same about me as I did you. I tried to push those feelings aside, but as we started to spend more time together, they just kept growing. Then it got to the point where you were the only thing I could think of, only person I wanted to be around. You're my favorite person and one of my biggest supporters. The idea of you not being in my life, not being mine, drives me insane. I want you to be at every race, cheering me on, with my number on you." He glanced at the LN4 on your shirt then back up at you. "Looks like I've got one of those things accomplished already."

Your cheeks felt like they were on fire and as much as you wanted to spill your guts to him too, you were too stunned to speak. Lando tried to read your body language for any sign that you felt the same and after no response from you he started to get nervous. "God. I hope I didn't just fuck everything up between us."

The idea of him being scared shitless of rejection just like you was amusing to you and a grin had plastered itself onto your face. Then before you could even realize what you were doing you were practically in his lap, with your lips on his. His hands cupped your face as he kissed you back. God, did it feel amazing. You couldn't lie you had fantasized about kissing him many a times but you were happy to say the real thing was even better than you had imagined.

As the two of you pulled away both grinning like fools, he asked the question. "Now, are you gonna be mine? So when I win this race I can kiss my girlfriend and celebrate with my girlfriend?"

You simply replied. "Yes."

Things may have escalated at that point and the two of you may have been slightly making out until it was time for him to leave. As he gave you one final kiss as he left, you stayed seated on the couch, trying to collect yourself. The high you were riding was like no other and you pinched yourself to make sure what had just happened was real.

The giddiness was still at an all time high as you tried to focus on the race and you had to admit half the time you were thinking about kissing him again. There were only a couple laps left and Lando had been holding steady at P3 for quite some time now and as he entered the final lap you could hear some yelling from his team and then you saw it. He was inching to pass Lewis and Max and then all at once it happened. Lando was in the lead with the checkered flag in sight and within a second he had won his first F1 Grand Prix. Your chair went hurling backwards as you jumped up cheering. The whole McLaren team was yelling and celebrating.

Lando hurried to find you before he took the podium and when he saw you he ran towards you, of course you got your kiss as promised. Must have been the adrenaline because it was even better than before. "My good luck charm." He said before giving you one last kiss and hurrying off to the podium.

As you watched him take the top spot your heart swelled. It was a long time coming and you were beyond proud. You realized your life would never be the same, but with him by your side it was something to look forward to.

Summer - i think about summer, all the beautiful times. i watched you laughin' from the passenger's side and realized i loved you.

The past couple months had been a whirlwind. You honestly weren't sure how Lando did this for nine months out of the year. Between somehow still balancing work and then traveling on most of the weekends you were drained. Sure, you were nothing but grateful that you even got to tag along and experience these amazing places with your boyfriend. It's just that sometimes you craved just simple quality time between the two of you.

The past weekend had been a home race and luckily there was a gap week before the next race in Hungary. Lando promised you that this weekend would be filled with things that you wanted to do. You just hoped he didn't mind doing nothing.

The first day was great, the two of you basically just rotted in bed all day. It was nice to actually relax for once and you could tell Lando was taking full advantage of it. Although, by the afternoon of the next day you were both getting slightly antsy. Boredom, believe it or not had set in. Apparently you had become more accustomed to the busy lifestyle than you thought. You tried to occupy your brain with playing some games on your phone, but it did nothing for you. Lando had plopped down next to you on the couch with a sigh. You glanced over at him, boredom was written all over him.

"I can't believe I'm saying this but we-"

"Need to get the hell out of this place?" He was already up and putting on his shoes and tossing a pair of yours towards you before you could reply back. You hurried to put yours on as he was already heading towards the door.

"Where are we going?" You asked as you got into his car.

He gave you a small shrug. "Nowhere in particular"

Lando had one hand on the steering wheel and the other was already reaching out for your hand before you guys had even left the parking garage. As you intertwined your fingers with his you used your free hand to pick out some music. Lando always let you choose the music when you guys were in the car together. He did the driving and you were the dj. You liked to tease him that you were a better dj than he ever was, which always earned you some eye rolls.

You hadn't really been paying attention to the time, but by the beautiful pinks and oranges that were painted in the sky, you realized the sun was setting. You didn't mind though, you were having a good time. It had gotten to the point in the car ride though, where your music was just put on shuffle and it was always a fun guessing game to see what would pop up next. The opening chords to Promiscuous by Nelly Furtado and Timbaland came on and Lando was convinced he could sing both parts. By the end of the song both of you were out of breath. Him from trying to do both parts and failing, he couldn't even remember half the words, and you from laughing at him.

Golden hour cascaded through the car and as he laughed along with you he looked so perfect. If you could you would have framed this moment in time, so you would have it with you always.

As you pulled up to a red light he looked over at you a small smile on his face. "You know you're lucky I love you. No one gets away with poking fun at my singing."

Your heart skipped a beat. You guys hadn't said that you loved each other yet, but if you were to pick a moment this would have been a perfect one. You had been wanting to say it to him for awhile now, but once again was too scared to make the first move.

"Well I have never been so honoured than to be loved by the Lando Norris." You teased him.

He scoffed at you. "Oh knock it off."

You rolled your eyes as you leaned over the console. You got as close as you could to his lips without kissing him.

"I love you too." You whispered.

"You better."

His lips closed the gap within seconds, and his hand cupped the side of your face. It didn't last long though as the car behind you guys blared its horn. The two of you were too busy to see that the light had turned green.

"Oops." You laughed as you got situated back in your seat.

"Yeah yeah." Lando grumbled as he sped off.

The whole ride back to your place you couldn't wipe the smile you had off your face. You really were so head over heels in love with him. Looking back you were so glad that you got on that plane to Australia back in March. Who knows what your life would have been like right now if you hadn't. All you knew was that you loved him and you couldn't imagine your life without him.

Fall - how you held me in your arms that september night. the first time you ever saw me cry.

The Japan Grand Prix was this weekend and you were excited to be going. You had always wanted to visit Japan and what a better reason than to be supporting the man you loved. You even decided to fly in early with Lando to maybe go do some sight seeing.

The two of you spent the day exploring all that Japan had to offer. Even if it was just one day the two of you made the most of it. You did all the touristy stuff and between the two of you, a photo album probably could have been filled with all the pictures you took.

You walked hand in hand back to the hotel, feet aching from all the walking you had done today. As soon as you entered your room Lando collapsed onto the bed.

"I'm gonna be so tired for practice tomorrow." He was laying on his back with his hands behind his head. Which in turn caused his shirt to ride up exposing his toned stomach. Something that he knew drove you crazy. You kicked your shoes off and walked to the edge of the bed where he laid, smirking at you. That little shit knew what he was doing. Climbing onto the bed you straddled him, making sure to grind your hips a little as you sat on him. A groan escaped past his lips and now you were the one with a smirk on your face.

"I'm gonna give you something to actually be tired about tomorrow Norris." Your fingers trailed along his exposed skin and up under his shirt. You could feel him shiver under you and knowing the power you had over him always went straight through you. Although, your fun didn't last for long. You felt his hands grip your waist and just like that you were the one on your back as he hovered over you.

"I don't know about that." His voice was smooth and low and you knew you were in for it tonight.

When you awoke the next morning he was already gone for practice and the long night the two of you shared replayed in your head as you got ready for the day. If he thought he was tired last night you could only imagine what he felt like this morning.

The next two days went by pretty fast and before you knew it, it was race day. It had started like any other race day too. Over the past couple months Lando had created some new pre race traditions that included you. They weren't anything crazy, if anything they were super sweet. The one that you always liked was that he wanted you to be the last thing he saw before he got into the car. Now in reality that really wasn't possible he was going to see lots of other people, but he always made sure you were out there when he got into the car. And of course his number one priority, I love you's and good luck kisses.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The race was almost over and it had been a good one, if Lando could hold his position he'd likely finish P2. There were four laps to go and as you watched the screen closely you saw something that made your blood run cold. You weren't even sure how it happened, but one second Lando's coming towards a left turn and the next his car is flipping.

It felt like everything was happening in slow motion. You could see the team freaking out trying to get in contact with him, but the loud ringing in your ears made the once noisy environment silent. You could feel yourself start to hyperventilate as you saw the red flag being waved on the screen.

You hadn't even realized you were crying until someone from the team came over snapping you out of your trance.

"Is he okay? Please tell me he's ok!"

"We haven't been able to get in contact with him. We think the comms got damaged in the crash. They are working on getting him out now."

The state of his car on the screen made you sick to your stomach. It was all mangled and the longer it took for them to get him out the sicker you felt. The tears just wouldn't stop falling, worst case scenario kept replaying in your mind.

After a couple more painfully long minutes you see what you would call a miracle pop up on the screen. They've gotten Lando out and he's walking. Well walking as best as he can with two people on either side of him, but he's alive. Relieved sighs and thank gods are heard from his team.

You don't even have time to try and collect yourself because within a matter a seconds you're whisked away by someone on the team that you've never met and being shoved into the backseat of a car. "Wait I want to see him! Let me see him!"

"He's already on the way to the hospital. You'll see him there." Before you could respond the door is shut in your face.

Rude.

The drive to the hospital took forever. You were positive you had gotten every red light and to top it off were stuck in standstill traffic at least twice. It seemed like the only thing going fast was your mind. Even though you saw him up, that still didn't mean he couldn't have serious injuries.

The car hadn't even come to a complete stop at the hospital and you were opening the door and hightailing it towards the entrance. Thankfully there was someone from the team waiting for you to arrive, but as you approached them you prepared yourself for the worst.

"Please tell me he's okay." You could feel the tears start to well up again.

As they guided you towards his room they explained his condition. "Overall he's fine. He's pretty banged up, no serious internal injuries or broken bones though. I'd say we all witnessed a miracle today. Thank god for the halos."

They stopped outside a door, the one you assumed Lando was on the other side of. "He's still pretty out of it, but he has been asking for you. So that's a good sign." You glanced at the door, funny how you couldn't wait to see him, but now that the time has finally arrived, you were almost scared to open the door. "Go on." The team member nodded for you to enter the room.

You took a deep breath before slowly opening the door. For some reason you thought, maybe he wouldn't be in there. That this was all just a bad dream, but there he was. He was asleep, his chest slowly rising and falling. The sight of him in the hospital bed and finally processing what happened an hour ago hit you all at once and the tears just wouldn't stop coming. You tried be quiet, the last thing you wanted to do was wake him up. You slipped back out the door as you tried to collect yourself. People walking past gave you concerned glances as you sat against the wall with your head in in your hands.

Once the tears had subsided you quietly entered the room again, but to your surprise he was awake. His eyes lit up when he saw you. "Hi baby." He had reached his hand out to you.

You smiled at the term of endearment and took his hand in yours. Your eyes scanned over him, looking for any serious injuries. He had some scrapes and obvious bruises, but nothing that looked too bad. You seriously didn't know how he got this lucky. "You scared the shit out of me Lan. I thought I had lost you."

There they were again, the tears. You had tried to quickly wipe them away, but Lando had beat you to it. His hand gently cupped your face as he thumb wiped away your tears. "Don't cry. I don't like seeing my girl cry." He whispered.

This in turn made you cry more.

Lando tried to console you. "Baby. I'm fine. I promise. Honestly you can't get rid of me that easily." He patted the slightly empty space next to him in the bed. You were unsure, you didn't want to hurt him or make him uncomfortable. "Come on. I think some love from my love is just what the doctor ordered."

You slowly climbed onto the bed next to him, but as you tried to snuggle in close to him he winced. You immediately sat up, ready to sit in the chair next to the bed. "It's fine. It's fine. I just have some bruised ribs." You gave him a questioning look, like you didn't believe him. "That's all it was. I promise. Now please come here." He tugged on your the hem of your shirt. "I want to hold you."

Somehow the two of you made it work in the small hospital bed, but you still weren't entirely convinced this was a good idea. Although you couldn't lie and say it didn't feel nice to be in his arms. It was the one place where you always felt safe and felt comfort. You traced small designs on his arm, something you knew that brought him peace.

You felt him place a kiss on the top of your head. "I love you."

Hearing him say those three words was something you swore you would never get tired of hearing. You raised your head to look at him, and leaned up to press a kiss to his lips. "I love you more."

The two of you sat in silence for some time before Lando spoke up.

"I've got to ask you something and I need you to be so honest with me."

You rolled your eyes playfully, already knowing what his question was going to be. "Don't worry pretty boy, your face doesn't have a single scratch on it."

He let out a deep sigh. "Oh thank god."

If there was one thing you had learned from being with Lando for these past six months was that there was never a dull moment with him. Even after near death experiences he still knew how to somehow lighten the mood. Although, it was something you were thankful for, because after a day like you had, you truly don't know what you would do if he wasn't in your life.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Winter - then the cold came, the dark days. when fear crept into my mind. you gave me all your love and all i gave you was goodbye

Off season had arrived around a week ago. A time that you had looked forward to for months was finally here and you were miserable. Well, perhaps you weren't miserable, but mentally you were struggling.

It had all started in October, a couple weeks after Lando's crash. An article had gotten spread around that you were cheating on him with Charles. Someone had gotten ahold of a picture of you and Charles leaving from a dinner party. You guys had decided to leave out the back after hearing about all the paparazzi out front. As you guys exited the building you gave Charles a hug goodbye. It wasn't something uncommon between you two, you guys had become close friends over the year.

What the two of you didn't know though is that there was a pap hiding in the back, just hoping for a moment like the one you guys had just given him. The pap had taken the picture at just the right angle and far away enough that it looked like you and Charles were kissing. Did the pap think to take a picture of Lando who was right behind you and Charles? Or take a picture of Charles and Lando saying goodbye? No. All they wanted was a story to sell.

That next morning when you saw the article you couldn't help but laugh and Lando did the same exact thing when you showed him. Although the laughter stopped when you scrolled through Twitter. You had always had a good relationship with the fans, and the media left you alone really up until recently. Sure there were gonna be some fans that just didn't like you. It was just something that came with the territory of dating someone like Lando. It was something that never bothered you, but as you scrolled through Twitter all you saw was hateful tweet after hateful tweet.

You couldn't believe that people actually thought you were cheating on Lando. Gold-digger was used quite frequently in the insulting comments. You just tried to shake it off, people would eventually get over it. Lando and you knew it wasn't true and that was all that mattered. Though the straw that would break the camel's back would come two months later.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Social media hadn't been that bad recently, maybe people were feeling the holiday spirit and had decided to lay off you for a while. As you scrolled through your notifications you noticed had gotten tagged in a tweet a couple times. You figured it was probably just another fake tabloid, but clicked on it anyways.

when's Y/N gonna realize her time with lando is ticking.... he can never make it past 10 months with a girl. probably already scoping out someone new on insta.

the way all his past relationships have ended the same way lmao. it's like he sees that one year anniversary and says i gotta go!

You rolled your eyes as you locked your phone, tossing it next to you on the couch. Why couldn't people just stay out of your relationship?

The more you sat on the couch the more the little gears in your head turned. You had never really asked or did any digging on Lando's past relationships. You never really had a reason to, and you didn't want to compare yourself to some undoubtedly beautiful women. But here you were getting back on your phone and going down the rabbit hole. You didn't want what people were saying to be true, but the more you dug, the more it was confirmed. What a lovely thing to have constantly in the back of your mind now.

Christmas was in almost a week and your birthday not to long after that. You had been trying to just focus on the upcoming holidays and not that little nagging in the back of your head about Lando leaving you. That was easier said than done. He had been distant recently and you just knew what was coming. It broke your heart because you had so looked forward to spending the holidays with him, but it seemed like he was always busy. You gave him the benefit of the doubt when he said he was going to do some extra training during the off season to come back even stronger after his crash, but how much training could you do.

You would text him and not get a response for hours or you would ask him if he wanted to go do something and he was busy training or with his friends already. You wouldn't consider yourself clingy, but the fact that you hadn't seen him once the week leading up to Christmas was causing you to spiral. You shouldn't have been so stupid enough to get involved with someone like Lando. Should have known before you guys even got together that he would get bored of you. Every version of self doubt entered your mind as you sat on the couch staring at the Christmas tree in the corner.

It was Friday December 22nd when you broke your own heart and Lando's.

You've had enough. You were going to break it off. Be done. Rather break it off now on your terms than be blindsided by him. You pulled your phone out to text him.

You: Hey, can you come over today?

For the first time in weeks he responded in a timely manner.

Lan: Yes, I was just about to text you asking If you were going to be home today. I need to talk to you.

There it was. He needed to talk to you.

About and hour later he had shown up. You were in your room putting away some laundry when you heard him clear his throat from behind you. You took a second to compose yourself before turning around to look at him.

"Hey." You said softly.

"Hey."

You sat down on the edge of your bed, you weren't sure how you should go about this. You felt sick to your stomach, was this the right thing to do? You were about to ruin the best thing that ever happened to you.

When Lando sat down next to you you felt like all the air in the room had disappeared.

He shifted his body to face you and took your hands in his. Here it comes you thought.

"So I-"

As soon as he began to speak you cut him off.

"We should break up."

His eyebrows furrowed and have you a confused look. "Sorry. What?"

"I'm breaking up with you." You swallowed thickly, you could feel that familiar lump forming in your throat. You couldn't read his face at all, it was almost like he was emotionless. Your looked down at your still intertwined hands. "I'm breaking up with you Lan. I know you're bored of me. So it's better to just get it over with now. I know that's why you came over today." You pulled your hands away from his.

His eyes shifted down to his now empty hands, then back up to your eyes. Shaking his head as he got up from your bed, he felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. "What are you talking about 'that's why I came over today?'"

"Don't play dumb Lan, I-"

He scoffed. "You don't get to call me that as you're breaking my fucking heart."

You felt the first tear slide down you cheek. "I know about all your past relationships. How you can't stay with someone for longer than ten months. You get bored and you were clearly getting bored with me."

He threw his hands up in the arm, he was getting mad. "Why would I be getting bored of you? And what does my past relationships have to do with US?"

"People on twitter-"

His face was red and he was talking (yelling) with his hands. "Oh my god! Here we go! I told you, especially after the Charles thing to just stay clear of social media. All they do is get into your head!"

Now you were up, voice rising to match his. This wasn't going to end pretty. "Well sorry I didn't have my boyfriend here to reassure me. To tell me that it wasn't true! Christmas is in three goddamn days and I've barely seen you!" You were sure to be getting a noise complaint later.

"I've been busy!"

Your arms were now crossed. "Busy finding someone new?"

Lando thought his head was going to explode. Where the hell has all this come from? "Jesus Christ! I haven't been cheating on you! All that shit on twitter is just stuff to try and get between us. Which it clearly did it's job."

The tears were falling pretty steadily by now and you could see Lando wipe away a few of his own. "If you weren't cheating or planning on leaving me than what were you doing? What was so important that you couldn't barely be bothered to see me recently?"

He threw his hands up in defeat. "It was a fucking surprise! I had came over today to tell you, I couldn't keep it a secret any longer. I planned an early birthday surprise dinner for you tomorrow and at the party I was going to give you your gift that I had been working out too. That's why I had been so distant. I didn't want to ruin something I had worked so hard on."

Lando had sat back down on you bed, his head in his hands. You just stood there, flabbergasted. How could you be so fucking stupid? You had just ruined the best thing in your life over some stupid doubts.

"What was the gift?" You asked softly.

"Two weeks in Italy. We'd leave the day after Christmas. Spend your birthday in paradise." He looked you dead in the eye. "Only the best for the love of my life."

You felt like you couldn't breathe. What the fuck did you just do? You knew there was no coming back from this.

"Why didn't you just come to me about your doubts?" Lando asked.

You shrugged. "The seed was already so deeply planted and you weren't coming around even when I asked."

"Yeah, well maybe if you would have stayed off social media this wouldn't have happened." He was back to be shitty and that meant so were you.

"Well maybe I'm glad I didn't. So now I don't have to deal with people hating me for just loving you. Or people constantly invading my private life. I want to be free to do whatever I want! Without worrying if it will tarnish your image or create drama!"

His eyes narrowed at you, you clearly struck a nerve. "You're unbelievable you know that? I loved you with all my fucking heart and I can't help that what I do for a living puts the people I love in the public eye! I tried to protect you from it, believe me I did. So I'm sorry for being a burden on your freedom." You had never seen him so mad before, so hurt. It hurt you even more knowing you were the one who caused it.

His words stung, you didn't mean for what you said to come out that way. "Lan-" He had started to walk out of your room and you tried to grab his arm, but he just yanked it away from you.

"No, please, go enjoy your new found freedom."

Seconds later your apartment door slams shut and your left standing in your room a heartbroken idiot. That night was filled with many tears, a bottle of wine, a long facetime call to your best friend, and some more tears as your scrolled through pictures of the two of you on your phone.

The next morning hit you like a freight train. Your head was pounding you weren't sure if it was from the wine or the sobbing, probably a combination of both. You shuffled to the living room and stopped in your tracks when you noticed the bouquet of roses on the coffee table. You picked up the notecard and the crying started all over again as you read it.

For my love, Happy early birthday baby! I love you more than you'll ever know. I don't know how I got so lucky to have someone like you in my life. You're my best friend, my number 1 supporter, and the best girlfriend I could ever ask for. -Love Lando

God, you had fucked up so badly. How could you ever think a man so in love with you like he was, was planning on leaving you? The part that hurt the most was that you still loved him. You loved him so much it made you sick. You only did what you did to protect yourself and look at where it got you. A broken heart that you were sure was beyond fixable. The only person who would be able to fix it, just had his broken by you. Maybe you should quit your day job and just become a professional heartbreaker, it was something you were clearly good at.

Christmas and your birthday were beyond shitty that year and the roses he gave you had died on your birthday, how fitting you had thought. After the holidays is when you fell into your self loathe spiral that had been going on for three months now. You thought back to December all the time. How you wished you could fix things, but you had never thought that was a possibility until you saw Lando at that party.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Present

You still nervously picked at your fingernails, you wanted to badly to try and make things right, or at least tell him you were sorry. Fuck it you thought. You swallowed your pride and turned towards him to speak.

"I'm sorry about that day Lando." There was no comment from him, so you just kept going and once you started you couldn't stop. "I think about it all the time. I wish I could turn back time, and somehow change my mind or at least change what happened. I would have came to you with my doubts or when you came over that day I would have let you speak and not interrupted you."

Still no response from him, he just watched you intently. "And to answer your question earlier about my freedom... it's just been filled with missing you."

You took a deep breath before continuing to speak. "I still love you, and I know you probably hate me. And this is me just wishfully thinking, but I hope you would give me a second chance in the future. I know you didn't deserve what I put you through. I'm sorry, so sorry."

Your heart was beating so fast and you felt like you could throw up. You prayed he felt the same way and he would hold you in his arms and tell you that it was ok. That things could go back to the way they were before you fucked everything up, but that only happens in fairy tales or romance movies. Two things your life is not.

Lando sighed, took one final swig of his beer, and got up off the lounge chair. And for the second time, you watched him walk out of your life.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #hahaha who else is feeling the brain rot #i havent written in so long i hope this isn't complete dog shit #woof #LITERAL BRAIN ROT #im down bad tbh #anyways...#mine #writing

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alexa-fika · 7 months ago

Note

Just imagining cat child being a zoan cat type she loves napping in the sun(or cuddling against ace or marco) she would rather die than admit that she loves head pats.

When the crew gets to rowdy she just goes to nap next to pops.

Whenever they run into trouble on islands Ace is grinning before letting yn go and attack, because she's so tiny. She just bites the ankles

I think she'd get the nickname "ankle bitter"

Apawling Cattitude (Whitebeard pirates x f!Cat!child Reader)

A/N See what I did there 🐈 im so funny and goofy, anyhow I COOKED HERE, just pure cooked down below, especially on that ankle biter part 😎

Here Reader is replaced by Dokucha as place holder which stands for reader in japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

“Brother Marco, are you done yet?” the young child groans, lounging in one of his examining tables

“Not yet; there are still a few things I need to finish up,” Marco responds without even turning his head around

“I’m cold,” she whines

“There’s a storm outside, so I can’t warm up in the sun, and Ace fell asleep while eating again; you're the only source of heat around.”

He sighs, turning around on his chair and picking up the child from the table, putting them on his lap, and turning back around to his paper

“There, now will you let me finish these papers?”

She smiles, cuddling up to him and closing her eyes, basking in warmth

“You’re so warm, Brother Marco.”

“Yes, yes, I know, but you aren’t making my job easier.” He says as he works on finishing his papers, his actions betraying his words as he begins petting her head, scratching behind her ears

She hums, letting a loud purring sound at the sensation, leaning closer to him

He lets out a snicker at the sound

“Why are you laughing?” She mumbles

“Nothing.” He mumbles before continuing to scratch behind her ears

“I just remembered a conversation in which you said you did not fold at being petted,” he said with a chuckle

“Ten minutes ago, to be specific, if I am not mistaken.”

She jumps up at that, a frown on her young face

“I’ll have you know you are mistaken! I do not fold at something such as pets; I am not some stray cat!”

He raises his eyebrow

“Then, could you explain the purring I heard just a moment ago?”

“Yeah, you need to get your hearing checked.”

“Did you forget about my devil fruit?”

“Must be malfunctioning 'cause there is something wrong with em.”

“You’re such a brat; just admit you enjoy being petted.”

“Hmph,” she scoffed, jumping off his lap

“I'm going to go see if Brother Ace woke up; maybe his ears will be working better than yours, Brother Marco.”

He smiles, watching the child go, leaning his head on his hand

“Do come back if you want more,” he calls out

“Shut up!”

He snickers under his breath but says nothing else as she storms off

Tiny footsteps could be heard hitting against the boards of the Moby dick as Dokucha hurriedly made it to the mess hall, looking for her freckled brother, spotting the rambunctious man over in one of the tables

“Brother Ace, you’re up!” She hollered

Ace, sitting down in one of the tables with the rest of the brothers, quickly wolfs down his food at the sound of the voice

“What’s up?” He asks as he sees his sister approaching, raising an eyebrow

She stretches her hands towards him, opening and closing her hands

He chuckles at the motion before grabbing her and picking her up, placing her on his lap

“What is it, kitty cat?” He teases

“Nothing,” she smiles, cuddling up to him and his heightened warmth

“Sure.” He chuckles, rubbing her ears gently as they are on his hands

“Then why the sudden rush to see me?”

“Brother Marco was being mean, and I was cold,” she mumbles

He chuckles at the small girls voice

“Oh was he? You mean your kitty purr didn’t work on him?”

“I don’t purr!” She said once again, jumping up, glaring at him

“Hah, really?!” he gasps in fake surprise

“Could have sworn I heard it, din’t you, Thatch?” he asked with a grin, looking at his brother, who was putting some plates down on the table

Thatch chuckles, shaking his head with a grin

“I did hear a small purr, yes.”

She pouts about to tell them off when one of the tables when up in an uproar; by the look of it, one of her brothers had started a drinking competition once again

She sighed, jumping off Ace’s lap and continuing on her way to find a place to nap in peace

Whitebeard hums as he hears soft knocking at the door of his chambers

“Come in.”

“Papaw!” She whines, climbing her way into his bed

He chuckles as she climbs all over his bed

“Gurararara” he laughs scratching her head.

“What is it? Is there something you need?”

“Mess hall is too noisy; I wanna nap,” she said, cuddling into his chest with a smile, sighing in relief

“There,There .” He said strokinb her hair as she cuddles into his chest, his own soft smile growing as he looks down at his little one

“Sleep here for now, brats know to keep it down around here”

“Thank you, Papaw”

“Make sure to sleep well.”

Dokucha now sat on top of ace’s shoulders, leaning her face and hands on top of his head as they walked

“What are we looking for again?”

“Izou left ahead of us to intercept the guys we were after; we are his backup,” he answered as he briskly walked through the grassy field

“I see him. Okay, ankle biter, you’re up,” he said, grabbing the girl from his shoulders and putting her on the ground, kneeling down on the ground next to her

“See the guy with the red shirt? He’s a long-distance sniper; I need you to take him out while I go help Izou with the melee fighters.”

She grins, her two incisors poking out of her mouth as she did

“Bite?” she said, looking at her brother, waiting for permission

“Yes, you can bite; go get ’em.”

She grins, shifting into her cat form and running closer to the guy; once close enough, she began prowling, silently approaching the guy until she was right next to them, at which point she pounced on them, making quick work of them, removing their going and easily gaining a surrender

She shifted into her human form, grinning as she kneeled on the now fainted man, chuckling as she watched her brothers make quick work of the rest of the enemies

“Impressive.” Izou praised her, approaching the girl, Ace following behind him, looking down at the man she had incapacitated.

“You’re getting better at that,” he grins, rubbing her head

She gives him a toothy grin in response, purring at the affection

As a reward for her hard work, Izou decided not to comment on the very obvious purring coming out from her as he continued rubbing her head , her ears tilting and twitching as she enjoyed her hard-earned pampering

That scene where Dokucha was kneeling on top of the guy, I was thinking of that one scene where young shanks was doing the same, eating chocolate (?)

Shanks really be stealing hearts since back then, I ‘ll take 1000 chapters on Roger pirates, Thank you < 3

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

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fayes-fics · 11 months ago

Text

It's That Time Of Year

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: It's that time of year... when you could use a fake boyfriend.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, oral sex (m to f), vaginal sex, dirty talk, hand as gag, quiet sex, sex in childhood bedroom. Fake dating, family dynamics, lots of feelings, friends to lovers.

Word Count: 11.3 k (eek Im sorry)

Authors Note: Here's my tropetacular winter 2023 Benepic! Request fill for @broooookiecrisp (HERE), who wanted fake boyfriend trope with Benedict accompanying the reader to the USA to spend Christmas with her family. I hope you like it, my dear. Thanks to @colettebronte for the read-through. Enjoy and happy holidays! 🎄

December 20th

“Thank you,” Benedict clinks his champagne glass against yours, “for everything.”

You blush and look down from his intense blue-eyed gaze, staring instead at the untied bowtie around his collar that seems almost more attractive than when fastened.

“It was nothing,” you demure.

“It was not nothing!” he scoffs, giving you a gentle shoulder bump as you both lean on the high-top table.

“Alright, it was my job then,” you modify, giving him a modest smile as you hotch slightly - beautiful though they are, you cannot wait to take off these high-heels.

“And you are excellent at your job,” he asserts before downing the rest of his champagne and refilling both glasses from the bottle before you.

He is lingering much longer than you thought he might, long after all his family and all the guests have left. The event was over a while ago, and all around you, the venue staff are clearing tables and stacking chairs.

Tonight was indeed a rousing success. Your first-time event managing the end-of-year fundraising gala for the Bridgerton Family Foundation, they hit a new record amount raised. Standing next to you is the newly minted CEO of that organisation, Benedict Bridgerton, looking far too dashing in his custom-fitted tuxedo. Empathetic and naturally in tune with the needs of others, he is indeed the perfect replacement to run the charitable arm of the family business now that his mother has decided to retire. In previous years, you both took deputy roles - him to his mother, you to your old boss - this was the first year you both stepped up to the plate to run things, and if you do say so yourself, you have both done an excellent job of it. A delightful working partnership built on years of friendship since meeting at university as an exchange student.

“You deserve a long Christmas break after this,” he breezes.

“Going home to the States in a couple of days,” you nod. “I’m both looking forward to it and dreading it in equal measure, to be honest,” you confess, this second glass of champagne acting like a truth serum. You didn't want to or even get the chance to drink earlier, but a little tipple to round off the rewarding night is lovely, especially in present company.

“How come?” he seems genuinely curious, his forehead knitting adorably. Of course, he wouldn't understand; he comes from an idyllic family.

“I am very much the black sheep,” you shrug, twirling a finger absent-mindedly around the rim of your glass. “Being childless, unmarried and single at thirty-three in a midwestern family is unheard of and thus the subject of much ridicule.”

“Wow,” his eyebrows shoot up, “that's…,” he hesitates.

“Judgemental? Parochial? Small-minded?” you supply dryly on his behalf.

“I was going to say traditional… but sure, those work too,” he chuckles.

You giggle a little, then sigh. “So a mixed blessing, really. It's nice to see them all; I just wish they were a bit less them, you know?” you gesture vaguely into the air.

“A boyfriend would really take the heat off?” he queries.

“Hah!” you can’t contain the bubble of amusement at the mere thought. “Chance would be a fine thing. But, yes, that likely would take the edge off the worst of their barbs.”

“Well, I’m at a loose end,” he comments, seemingly changing the subject. “The family is spread to the four corners of the globe this Christmas. Mum is going to Costa Rica for a retired ladies' trip with Lady D. Don't ask,” he adds amusingly, holding up his hands. “Kate and Ant are taking their kids to Lapland, and my various siblings are travelling or staying with partners. Weirdly, it’ll be our first Christmas apart. At least we will all reunite for New Year's at Aubrey Hall.”

“Aww, that sounds nice,” you offer neutrally.

“What I'm saying, y/n, is…,” he continues slowly as if waiting for the penny to drop, “if you need a fake boyfriend, I am available. It’s the very least I can do after all of this,” he explains, gesturing around the room. “Plus, it might be novel to experience a typical American Christmas,” he shrugs casually.

You can’t help it; you gape at him. Completely floored. The idea is utterly left-of-field and yet so exciting your heart pounds. If there is one downside to working so closely with Benedict these last few months, it has been the exponential growth of your inappropriate feelings for him. He is so sweet and handsome; no one would be immune, frankly. It was bad enough when you were at university together; now, well, it’s slightly lethal. Your mind boggles at him playing the role of a doting boyfriend; your body, however, seems very enthused, a warm flush creeping over your skin at the mere thought.

He chuckles nervously, a likely reaction to your stunned silence. “Listen, it was just a silly suggestion; you don’t have t-”

“Yes!” you squeak, interrupting and grabbing his jacket cuff boldly when he seems to be withdrawing. “Please,” you add almost as an afterthought, unsure how to thank someone for such a generous offer.

His face breaks out into the most handsome grin.

“Excellent! Then, it's a date!” he exclaims, tilting his glass towards yours again. “Well, a fake date,” he amends with a lopsided grin that makes your stomach flip.

Oh god. What am I letting myself in for?!

___

December 23rd

“Are you sure about this? You can still back out...” you offer, fidgeting in the bag-drop queue at Heathrow three days later.

“Please. What else am I going to do? Sit around my flat, billy-no-mates, and eat a sad M&S ready meal?! You are literally rescuing me,” he counters, probably exaggerating for your amusement.

Very much following the motto of not looking a gift horse in the mouth, you had texted Benedict your flight details that same night, and he has made it all happen in the hours since. Somehow, he managed to wave the Brigerton magic wand and secure what was probably the last seat on your direct flight two days before Christmas. Unluckily for him, he has to slum it in economy with the rest of the plebs like yourself. He couldn't even get a seat near you; he's stuck down the back, in the middle, near the galley.

“How about we swap seats at least?” you offer, guilt creeping in, looking at your printed boarding pass. Not only is Benedict doing you a favour, but he’s also pretzelling his tall self into an uncomfortable seat. The least you can do is offer him your aisle seat.

“I’ll be fine,” he dismisses, waving a hand and fishing out his passport as you are called to the desk.

“Travelling together?” the pretty, painted lady breezes at you, holding out a perfectly manicured hand to take your passport and ticket. Then you watch her practically melt as she claps eyes on Benedict.

Tsk. Typical.

“Not exactl…” you begin.

“Yes,” he cuts in with a winning smile. “Sadly, we couldn't get seats together, though,” he pouts a touch theatrically.

“Oh! Well, let me see what I can do about that… It is Christmas, after all,” she winks at him conspiratorially, then taps on her keyboard.

A few minutes later, your bags are checked in, and you are upgraded to Premium Economy. The lady was apologetic that you still couldn't get seats together but a row apart instead. You are pretty sure if there was space, the handsome bastard would have gotten you upgraded to business without even trying.

Oh, to be a pretty Bridgerton.

___

Twelve hours later, you are in a taxi, tired but grateful for the additional legroom on the flight, even managing a few hours of light napping. Benedict is similarly sleepy, both of your heads lolling around as the car zips down the road. By the time you reach your family home, it’s evening, but to your body clocks, it's the middle of the night.

As you slide out of the taxi, a long arm wraps around your shoulders, and you startle.

“Best to look convincing from the off,” Benedict mutters as he throws his duffle bag on top of your suitcase and trundles them up the path with his other hand.

You nod and dutifully wrap your arm around his waist over his puffer coat, slightly annoyed at how good it feels, as if your arm belongs there.

“This is so American it's almost a cliche,” he jests, looking up at your parents' house, holiday string lights twinkling in the dusk.

You giggle at his remark and bump him with your hip, quickly escalating into a friendly tussle. He hauls you into his arms and swings you in front of him.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, your limbic system alive at the feel of him pressed into you even behind heavy coats.

“Just go with it,” he responds with an easy confidence and that dazzling smile. As if in slow motion, his lips descend, and you reel as they lightly brush yours, an explosion behind your ribs at this passing touch.

Over your shoulder, you hear the front door opening and realise it’s for show, for a particular audience. You are grateful for the forethought but completely discombobulated from this partial kiss.

How am I going to survive a week of this?

“Mrs y/l/n, Mr y/l/n,” he calls as you linger in his arms, not wanting to turn around just yet.

“Well, hello there. This must be the famous Mr Bridgerton,” your dad's opening line. “We have heard so very little about you. Before yesterday anyway,” he adds, already twisting the knife in early as you pull up to the porch.

“That may well be because I asked her not to,” Benedict rebuts smoothly, releasing you to give a firm handshake. “I love the element of surprise,” he adds with a smile you have seen him deploy before, a weapon’s grade charm offensive.

Your mother’s face is a picture. “Well, well, we certainly didn't expect someone quite so handsome to accompany our daughter,” she drawls, verging on flirtatious.

Benedict drapes his arm around your shoulders and nuzzles your hair. “Whyever not? She is simply wonderful,” he sighs, his hot breath tickling your scalp before letting you go again.

Damn, he is good at this.

“Hello, mom, dad…” you greet politely before moving in for a short hug from both.

“Happy holidays, darling. Let's get inside,” your mother fusses.

Within a few minutes, after some casual pleasantries are exchanged as you remove coats, you watch your mother give Benedict a tour of their home, including, to your chagrin, your childhood bedroom, which is a time capsule from your teen years. At least the dog-eared band posters have been taken down. As you drift back to the living room, Christmas music plays from a speaker behind the tree. Your family loves to go all out on the holiday decorating. It does feel festive and cosy, though.

“It will be a full house with all of our kids and their spouses staying tonight. So there are no spare rooms. You are on the sofabed in the den, Mr Bridgerton,” your dad comments, gesturing to the room next door; the message very clear.

“That's fine,” Benedict huffs genially, “and please, call me Ben.”

“I might actually head to bed now,” you admit over a stifled yawn. “My body thinks it's 2am.”

“Same,” Benedict chimes.

“Oh, you should stay up, try to get into the timezone,” your mother clucks, always with an opinion about how you are not doing things how she would. “Ben has not yet been introduced to Tucker, Travis, Tegan and their spouses. They are all still out at dinner…” she indicates, listing your siblings and looking most perturbed at your decision.

“Tomorrow, Mom,” you assure.

“Alright,” she capitulates with a sigh, mostly when she sees Benedict yawn behind his hand.

“Goodnight…” you offer to all and go to leave the room, but as you get to the door, Benedict stops you with an arm shooting out.

“Don't I get a goodnight kiss, my love?” he pouts.

At first, you look up at him shocked, then a flick of his eyes over your shoulder makes you realise he is continuing the ruse.

“Maybe,” you flirt back, jetlag somehow making you daring. An ideal excuse to be coquettish, even though your parents likely can't hear your exchange above the music playing. They can certainly see your body language, though.

“Oh, I see. What do I have to do to earn it?” Benedict plays along, a dangerous smile and a large hand low on your lumbar spine, pulling you into him.

“Tell me you will miss not sleeping next to me,” you boldly request, a little cheeky smile tugging at your lips to see how far he will let you push this.

A long finger swipes a tendril of hair out of your face and behind your ear, a thumb curling under your chin.

“Every night I'm not sleeping next to you is my misfortune,” he replies, sounding wistful, his eyes seeming to burn with something approaching sincerity. It makes your stomach swoop like you are standing on a cliff edge on a windy day.

“Good answer,” you stumble in acknowledgement, pushing up onto your tip toes, heart in your mouth.

“I do what I can,” he answers against your lips and then draws you into a slow, plush kiss.

His mouth doesn't open, but it doesn't matter; the hint of wetness on his pursed lips has your body reacting, a charge ripping through your being. A sudden yearning for him to push you against the wall and plunder your mouth with his tongue. When he withdraws, you know your pupils are blown wide, but you are taken aback that his are, too; the dampness on his lip shines in the glow of the Christmas tree.

Your father pointedly clearing his throat breaks the spell, and you jump apart as if burned.

“Sorry,” you both mumble and Benedict pulls the most adorable ‘oopsie, my bad’ face.

“Goodnight, y/n,” he says tacitly.

“Goodnight, Ben.”

As you climb the stairs slowly, exhaling the breath it feels like you have been holding since he grabbed your arm, you know that kiss will be replaying in your head for weeks. If he keeps this up, you may well combust.

This was a fantastically bad idea.

___

December 24th

You awaken on Christmas Eve when it’s still dark outside. A glance at your phone says it’s right after 4:30am. Already knowing you won’t get any more sleep, you throw open your case and grab slippers and a hoodie, deciding to head down to make a coffee.

You almost jump out of your skin when you see a silhouette sitting at the kitchen table.

“Sorry,” Benedict atones as he sees you clutching your chest, “time zones.”

“Same… coffee?”

“Please…”

As you potter around, making a pot as quiet as possible, he scrolls on his phone. You join him once it’s brewing.

“How is the sofa bed?” you ask, wincing guiltily.

“I've slept on worse,” he obfuscates jovially.

“Sorry, if I’d known there wouldn't be a spare bed, I would have booked a hotel,” you apologise, rubbing your temples.

“No, it’s tradition to stay with family at Christmas,” he rebukes with a smile.

“Thank you again for all this,” you mutter, shoving your hands into your hoodie pockets. “Have you done this fake boyfriend thing before?” your question is only partially in jest.

“No, what makes you say that?” he huffs bemused.

“You, uhh, have been doing an excellent acting job,” you shrug. “Thank you, by the way. I don’t think they quite believe I could land you, but I’d argue you have been very convincing regardless….”

“Don't say that,” he frowns, cutting in.

“You don’t think they buy it?” concerned things may not be working as well as you believed.

“Not that,” he waves a dismissive hand, “the other thing. Why wouldn’t they believe you could ‘land me’?” he rounds off with a quotation gesture.

You bark a laugh. “Have you seen you?

“Stop,” he seems genuinely ticked. “That is all shit. I would be lucky to have you,” he mumbles, not meeting your eye, staring out of the French doors into the inky blackness. It won’t be sunrise for another three hours this time of year. “I am lucky, in fact, to have you as a friend,” he adds, his thoughts sounding far away.

“Well, same. I still have no idea how to repay you for all of this…” you admit.

“I already said, none needed. Why would I not choose a little foreign adventure with a good friend when the alternative is Christmas alone?!” he scoffs as the coffee machine beeps.

Unsure quite what to say, you get up to make a cup, knowing without asking how he takes his. Retaking your seat, you pick at the idea again.

“I think we should strategise…” you mutter into your mug.

“About what?”

“The plan. Now you have some inkling of what they are like, maybe we should talk tactics…?” you trail off, not sure even yourself where you are going with this.

“It's simple, isn't it?” he counters, taking a gulp of coffee. “We hold hands, hug and kiss occasionally, you know, act like a couple….” he shrugs as if it's the simplest thing in the world. Maybe it is to him; his heart probably doesn't pound when you so much as touch.

“Okay, well, I guess we can improvise. But let me know if it all gets too much. Send me a secret code or something,” you offer.

“Like a safe word?” he chuckles.

“Something like that,” you allow, trying to mask the heat you feel creeping up your sternum at the very thought.

Just then, his phone vibrates on the table.

“Sorry, it's Ant. I should probably take this,” he apologises, standing up.

You swallow a sip of your coffee, trying not to think too hard about anything, when suddenly he leans over your shoulder from behind, the phone still buzzing in his hand.

“By the way, my safeword is Byron,” he rumbles silkily into your ear. “Not that I’ll ever need it,” he adds, walking away casually while you try to bring your heart rate back to normal.

Dear God, this man is going to kill me.

___

You take your coffee back to bed when Benedict doesn't reappear after a few minutes and end up passing out again for a couple of hours. By the time you are awake again, the house is a hive of noise and activity. You pass Kallie, your oldest brother's wife, in the hallway, and she punches your arm lightly.

“Welcome home, and well fucking done!” she winks, and you frown, confused what she’s talking about. She jerks a thumb over her shoulder. “That delicious slice of Britishness in there,” she elucidates.

Shit! It just occurs to you that by falling back asleep, you left Benedict alone to fend for himself in the melee of your family. The poor man must be mauled alive by now.

So when you enter the kitchen, the last thing you expect to see is the sight before you. Benedict, with an apron on, tossing American-style pancakes like a pro on the hotplate while your family chatters around him, applauding as he serves up another perfect-looking batch.

“Darling!” he calls when he sees you. “Come here!” he exclaims warmly, holding out his arms.

Unsure what else to do and powerless to resist the opportunity, you walk over and allow yourself to be swept into his arms. He presses a kiss onto your cheek. He smells like butter and syrup, and you want to burrow into him.

“Sorry I left you alone in the lion's den,” you say close to his ear so only he can hear.

He smiles into your hair. “They are fine, honestly; I can handle it,” he assures mutely.

You pull back and swipe a tiny fleck of batter from his face, enjoying the round of his cheekbone as you do. What makes an odd weight land on your ribs is how his pupils dilate fractionally as you lick the dot off your thumb.

“Delicious, Mr Bridgerton,” again, unable to stop yourself from flirting with him now you have the excuse.

Something in him looks almost wild as your gaze locks.

“Get a room!” your brother, Tucker, jeers from the table.

Part of you wants to sass back some version of ‘apparently we’re not allowed’ and ‘I wish’, but all you can do is smile at Benedict as he mirrors your expression.

“More, please, Mr Brid-un,” your youngest nephew toddles over, holding up his plate expectantly.

Benedict finally looks away and ruffles the little kid’s hair. “Certainly, Brandon,” he offers warmly.

“What I find fascinating is how a proper British gentleman knows how to make good old-fashioned American pancakes,” your mother pipes up from her seat at the kitchen island.

“Oh, my nanny was an American,” Benedict waves the spatula as he pours more batter onto the hotplate and begins a new batch.

“Your grandmother was from the colonies?” Travis mocks, feigning outrage.

“Oh no… not that sort. My umm nanny nanny, as in the lady who looked after us as kids,” he explains, looking somewhat sheepish.

“Shhiittttt,” your sister Teegan drawls, looking up from her phone for the first time. “You’re like actual rich, huh?”

“Language Tee!” your mother warns from across the room.

Teegan pulls a face and then turns her attention back to Benedict, awaiting his response.

“Please, can you all not be so… y/l/n,” you cut in, holding up your hands to the gathered family. “For once, can you all just…?” you taper off, hoping they will read between the lines.

“How’d you two meet?” Dean, Teegan’s husband, calls out, ignoring your plea completely.

“We actually met at university many years ago,” Benedict explains, flipping the pancakes as they bubble. “But we started working together last year on various projects, and well, we grew much closer.”

So far, so truthful.

“Then, well, one memorable day, when we successfully wrapped up a project we had worked on so hard together, I realised she meant so much more to me than a friend,” Benedict continues, sounding so sincere you almost believe it yourself. A tiny flutter in your chest that the project he refers to could be the Gala. “I kept it to myself for a while, but late one night, I couldn't resist, and I confessed my feelings. I am the luckiest man alive because it turns out she felt the same. And, well… here we are,” he concludes, shooting you a look so loaded you forget it's a yarn for a few seconds.

“Friends-to-lovers, I stan,” Claire, your other sister-in-law, comments. She always has her head stuck in some romance book.

As Benedict serves the next batch, the focus of the room is pulled to your nieces and nephews as they overload their pancakes with toppings, and you are grateful to be out of the glare of the family spotlight temporarily.

“How did I do?” Benedict murmurs into your ear as he sidles up next to you, wrapping an arm around your back. There's a tinge of pride in his voice. He knows he has them eating out the palm of his hand, and fuck if it isn't so attractive.

“I should tip you…” you joke, not wanting to give away quite how flustered you are.

“I accept payment in kisses,” he breathes, his smouldering stare sliding down to your lips as you crane your head to look up at him.

It's only a few minutes later, as you grab a pancake from the stack that you realise he didn't say that at volume anyone else could hear… it was purely for you. And you have no earthly idea what to do with that thought.

___

The rest of Christmas Eve passes with your family’s usual rituals, with Benedict beside you, playing the doting boyfriend to perfection. Each brush of his makes your adrenaline spike—a divine torture.

While dinner is cooking in the afternoon, your parents usher most of you out of the house for a walk in the bracing cold to build up an appetite. And so you stroll, Benedict’s gloved hand in yours.

“So Ben, is everyone in London not married with kids, or is it only my sister who can't seem to figure it out despite her old age?” your sister Teegan digs as she pushes the buggy next to you.

“Well, we are a similar age, and I'm not married with kids either,” he points out breezily.

“Yeah, but…” she halts, realising there is no response she can think of. “Wait, why don't you have kids yet? Don’t you want a family? I thought you said you had lots of brothers and sisters?”

“I do come from a big family, yes. And I suppose one day, yes, I do want kids of my own,” he adds, seemingly honest as you listen intently, your heartbeat in your ears, “but I feel no rush yet.”

“So you’re not knocking this one up anytime soon then?” your brother Tucker stirs, checking your shoulder roughly from the other side.

You can't help but feel a blush darken your cheeks at that and refuse to look up at Benedict. You open your mouth to tell Tucker to shut up, but Benedict cuts across you.

“If anyone has come close to being someone I would consider having kids with, it's your sister,” he admits casually, as if talking about the weather. But for you, it feels like you are back on that proverbial cliff edge about to dive over, heart racing. It takes every fibre of your being to keep walking and acting naturally, grateful for the gloves between your joined hands; not sure you could handle his skin touching yours as he says such things.

“Ooooooo,” Tucker singsongs, “going to the chapel, and they’re gonna get mar...”

“Cut it out!” you grouse.

He peels a laugh, then jogs on ahead to catch up with Dean.

“I’m sorry about that,” your apology hushed as you keep walking, Teegan falling behind you to deal with one of her kids' tantrums.

“Why? It's an inevitable question when you meet your other half’s family,” he points out, squeezing your hand reassuringly as you wander as a pair.

“Yes, but… it's a bit much, considering they just met you hours ago. They are intentionally stirring the pot. Trying to scare you off,” you frown, realising what they are doing as you say it aloud.

Benedict stops walking, and it makes you halt, too. “Nothing could scare me off,” he assures, his face soft with understanding as he cups your jaw. His cold, damp glove is a balm to your flushed, embarrassed face.

“Right,” you nod, “cos this is all fake…” you add quietly, trying to hide the defeated tone.

“Anyone who knows how great you are would not be scared off by the idea of a future with you,” Benedict says soothingly, a thumb stroking your cheekbone.

“Well, when you meet a candidate who fits that bill, send them over to me, yeah?” you quip brittly as you look off into the distance, unable to meet his hazy, sincere eyes.

His response is interrupted by your niece tugging on his coat.

“Uncle Ben, can I sit on your shoulders? Please? Daddy already has Brandon, and my feet are so tired,” she whines in that dramatic way only little ones do.

Benedict laughs and releases you. “Certainly, Sofia,” he smiles as he hauls her onto his shoulders, uncaring of the mess her little boots smear onto his coat as he does so.

“Faster! Go faster!” she orders, and genially, Benedict obeys, moving ahead and breaking into a light jog as she giggles loudly and holds onto his chin.

You try to ignore the flutter in your chest at the sight of him with a kid on his shoulders, as if he were born to do so.

This was such a mistake…

___

“When are you moving home, y/n?”

You knew this was likely coming. The question your mum has to ask every time you visit. And every year, your answer is the same.

“I don't think I will be, Mom,” you explain calmly as you pass the plate of peas to your sister, not wanting to look at Benedict, who sits opposite you at the long table. “I love London. It feels like home,” you add with a shrug.

“Yes, but this living abroad thing is supposed to be a phase—a young person thing. You are mid-thirties now. It's time you settled down,” she frowns.

“I am settled,” you reply neutrally, “I have a place of my own that I love.”

“Yes, but an apartment, sorry ‘flat’,” she self-corrects sarcastically, “that’s not a real home. A home is a house with a garden in a safe town with good schools for your children,” she lectures.

This line of discussion used to annoy and rile you up, but you have become weary of it over the years. The rest of your family is tucking into their food but listening smugly, having towed the traditional family line.

“I think home can be many things,” Benedict pipes up from across the table. “A home is about where you feel safe and secure, surely Mrs y/l/n?”

“Well, yes…” your mother falters, slightly taken aback by his interruption but still charmed by his effortless congeniality.

“Then I would say your daughter’s home is London,” he smiles disarmingly. “You should see her there; I encourage you to visit sometime. She has a home she has made beautiful. She has many friends, and she is amazing at her job. She is happy. I, for one, cannot imagine her anywhere else.”

Again, you can feel your heart beating at his sweet words, even knowing they are all for show; it's lovely that someone has your back for once, defending your choices.

“But what of the schools, Mr Bridgerton?” your dad piles in, “I have heard nightmares of the school system in the inner cities, in this country and yours,” he shudders.

“My family has always gone to a superb prep school in Chelsea. I see no reason why our children could not do the same when the time comes,” Benedict responds with a winning smile.

You almost drop the corn casserole at that line.

Plonking it heavily on the table and taking a deep breath, you finally pluck the courage to look over at him. Looking back at you is a playful smile and a wink. And suddenly, you know what he is doing. It likely appears genuine to others, but you know him too well; you know all his facial tells. He is doing this for sport. To entertain you. The kaleidoscope of emotions you feel is near exhausting, relief mixed with a tang of disappointment that it's all for show.

“Well, that's wonderful news, Benedict,” your mother squeaks. “I cannot wait to hear more once you are engaged,” never failing to find an opportunity to take a dig.

“You will be the first to hear, I promise,” he smiles winningly and takes a bite of food. “This is delicious, by the way,” he adds, “I hope you will share the recipe with me, seeing as we will likely be family one day...”

And just like that, he expertly manoeuvres your mother onto the only topic she loves more than marriage - cooking. As if he could intuit how to steer the conversation. Relieved, you sit back and finally take a deep breath, then a bite of your admittedly delicious plate. You are even grateful he manages to distract them long enough that there are no jibes about your weight.

Maybe this wasn't such a mistake…

___

A few hours later, with the little ones tucked up in bed, the adults gather around the tree with the fireplace roaring and the festive music softly playing. It's time for gift exchange, a family tradition away from the hubbub of Christmas morning with the focus on the children ripping through all the gifts Santa left for them.

You are enjoying the buzz a second large glass of wine provides when the focus turns to you. Benedict sits beside you and slides a hand onto your knee. Still, your body reacts, but you attempt to act as if it doesn't make your blood pump hard in your head.

“Benedict, we didn't know you were coming, so I'm sorry we have no gift for you to open,” your mother says sheepishly, “and y/n, we have done as you always ask; we have sent you a gift card over email,” she explains, “which makes me sad as you have no gift to unwrap….”

“That's fine, Mom, thank you. And don't worry, I don't need a gift,” you assure, taking another swig.

“Actually….” Benedict clears his throat, “I have a gift for my girlfriend if that is okay?”

You look agog at him.

“But… I didn't get you anything,” you splutter, even as he moves his hand from you and reaches behind his back, revealing a small navy velvet box.

“Don't worry. It's nothing really, just something small,” Benedict assures, even as you can feel everyone’s eyes on you as you reluctantly let him place it in your hands.

Slowly, you pull at the tail of the lovely soft gold ribbon until it relents. With your heart in your mouth, you snap open the box. Nestled in more navy velvet is a tiny, beautiful crystal penguin, your favourite animal.

“Ben…” you are lost for all other words, tears prickling the corners of your eyes.

“I remember you loved the larger one my mum had on her desk,” he explains lowly as you stare transfixed by all the facets catching the twinkling light. “Every time we had a meeting, you would stare at it or play with it. So I knew I had to get you one too, for your desk… or wherever you want to put it,” he modifies sweetly.

You can't help it - the swell of emotions makes you throw your arms around him as you clutch the precious item. It's like he has managed to distil everything you could want from a Christmas gift - something personal, tailored to you, nothing too extravagant but small, elegant and beautiful. And that he had the forethought to bring it across the Atlantic with him makes your heart burst even more. He is possibly the best friend you could ever have. You fervently wish he was so much more.

“I can't believe you remember that,” you mumble. “This is perfect and beautiful. Thank you, Ben, thank you so much.”

“Merry Christmas, my love,” he says into your hair at a volume you know is designed to be heard by the room.

“Merry Christmas,” you return quieter, only for him.

Vaguely, you hear your mother moving on to hand a gift to another, perhaps embarrassed by the display of affection between you. Grateful that the family focus seems to have shifted to someone else, you go to pull away from the embrace, but Benedict draws you tighter into him.

“Lovers don't let go so quickly,” he whispers. “Now I'm going to kiss you again if that is okay…”

Your tummy flips. “Okay…” you barely struggle out the word.

Then his hand is on your cheek, and time seems to slow like treacle; his eyes burn into yours as he moves in, then flutter closed as his lips meet yours. Again, it is like a rollercoaster, a thrilling plunge as his lips move over yours. It's like the previous night, respectful with a closed mouth but so sweet and promising, so much more a whole ripple runs through your body. You need more, so much more, desperate to climb into his lap and demand a real kiss, audience be damned. When you part, he tilts his forehead against yours and smiles gently, licking his lip as if savouring the taste.

“I'm glad you like it. The gift that is,” he clarifies, a sweet mumble.

You giggle. “I love it, Ben, thank you. I'm sorry I didn't get you anything; I feel terrible.”

“Being here with you is gift enough,” he assures in a voice that melts your insides, which you assume is for the audience.

My god, this man will be the death of me.

The rest of the evening passes in a pleasant fog of wine, your siblings holding court and telling stories as you listen, feeling the weight of Benedict’s hand again on your leg as he sips on a whiskey. Once again, you feel the creeping of jetlag and decide to turn in around 10pm. You give Benedict a peck on the cheek before he can draw you into another confounding kiss and make your escape upstairs with a glass of eggnog and your book.

As you settle into bed, you try not to let your thoughts spiral as you catch sight of the crystal penguin in its box. Instead, you tell yourself he is a good friend and rich; it's likely nothing to him, and not to read too much into it.

___

December 25th

At some point, you drift off to sleep, book in hand, the timezone still catching you out. You only realise it when you are awoken suddenly around 2am by a knock on your door.

“Come in,” you croak, sitting up and rubbing your eyes to adjust to the light; you had fallen asleep with the bedside lamp on low while reading.

The door opens ajar, and Benedict’s handsome face pops in. “I saw your light on…” he says softly, “just wanted to check on you.”

You put your book aside, pull the covers around your neck and feel an odd flutter as he closes the door behind him. He looks cosy in long tartan pyjama bottoms and a soft dark t-shirt.

“I'm sure your dad would kill me if he knew I were here,” he jests as he hovers a few feet away.

“Come sit,” you pat the bed next to you, even as you feel strange about him being here, dead of night on Christmas Day.

He nods gratefully and perches on the edge of your bed. It's a full-size mattress, bigger than a twin, but not a double bed. You can feel his weight tugging the bedding tight over your thighs.

“Thank you again for my gift, truly,” you gesture to the box on your bedside table.

“I had to. I couldn't think of anything more… you...” Benedict smiles that demure smile with downcast eyes that always makes you want to shake him and tell him to stop looking so fucking adorable. Or mount him. Or both. You have to bite your lip to stop blurting out your errant thoughts.

“But still to buy me such a wonderful gift and put up with my family… I mean… you deserve a medal,” you shrug.

A hand clamps onto your knee through the bedding, but it still surprises you.

“Stop it,” he gruffs. “I'm going to need you to stop. Seriously. I chose to come here. It's been fun. Something different. Yes, your family is a bit… intense, but everyone’s is. Each has its own special blend of crazy. You’ve seen the Bridgerton brand of dysfunctional up close,” he points out, knowing without saying more how much you have watched them bicker over the years.

“But you’ve said all those lovely things, made up all these amazing believable stories…” you argue back weakly.

“Every single thing I have said to your family has been the truth,” he responds solemnly.

You replay a few choice record-scratch moments in your head. “But what about the stuff about me being the person you could see yourself having kids with and where these imaginary kids would go to school…” you point out, wincing as you do.

“I told no lies,” he answers each syllable enunciated slowly, staring you down.

It feels like your whole world tilts when he utters those words.

“What are you saying?” you query, breathier than you mean to sound but needing him to spell it out.

He sighs, but a mischievous grin twitches the corner of his mouth. “You are much smarter than this; don't be obtuse now, y/n,” he rumbles, something in the challenging way he says it catches a fire behind your ribs.

“Ben…” you warn, so many contradictory feelings at once.

“You are all the things I said and more, and you must know how amazing you are,” he offers softly as you feel your eyes misting.

“Please don't,” your last vestige of resistance, still not believing what he says can possibly be true, too close to a festive miracle. Part of you thinks that at any moment, you will wake up alone and bereft.

His fingertips brush your cheek, and you inhale sharply and look up to see him inches from your face.

“Fine, if you don't somehow believe my words, maybe you’ll believe my deeds…”

It's the last few words out of his mouth before his lips meet yours.

This time, it's not for an audience; it's just for the two of you, and it almost stops your heart. A hesitant, soft, sweet brush that becomes more as he leans in and deepens the kiss. His lips part yours as your mind grinds to a halt, tentatively following his lead, kissing him back… the catalyst, the permission he needs. A large hand rounds behind your head and pulls you forward. Suddenly, it's a tidal wave, his tongue rolling greedily over yours, becoming hungry, urgent, desperate, your body awash with chemicals, scarcely able to believe Benedict, the star of every one of your spicy dreams, is here in your childhood bedroom, kissing the very life out of you in the early hours of Christmas Day.

“Lay down,” he murmurs into your skin as his lips glide over your cheek, and you follow his order without thought, shuffling down obediently until you lie flat and stare up at him transfixed.

It’s as if he’s taken your disbelief as a challenge to prove how very real this is. With one hand, he tosses aside the covers and crawls over you until he is engulfing you, surrounding you with his scent that makes your mouth water. His lips are hot on your neck as his hands map your body, lingering in places you are self-conscious about.

“Do you have any idea how sexy you are?” he sighs as if disputing your internal monologue, his breath ghosting warm over your collarbone.

“Stop…” you demure, wriggling under him, feeling bashful.

“No..” his crooked smile is lethal as his head pops up from worrying your throat with a little edge of his teeth. His hand skates your clothed breast, and on instinct, you push up into it, your nipple hardening as the heat of his palm seeps through your nightshirt. “Please take off your top,” he implores, his mouth finding your lips again. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve dreamt of touching your naked body.”

“I can’t believe this…” you mutter, shaky, confounded that it could be true—the man you desire desiring you back just as wantonly. He lowers his body between your legs, surging his hips so you feel something insistent inside his pyjamas.

“Now, do you believe me?” he dusks into your ear.

“Benedict…” falls from your lips as an excited shudder.

“Say my name again, please,” he huffs right against your cheekbone, pinning you under him with his pelvis.

“Benedict,” you repeat, revelling in the effect it seems to have on him.

It gives you the courage to whip off your top. The noise he makes as he realises you are naked underneath it is a beeline right between your legs.

“Shh,” you hush, giggling, a rush through your veins, not wanting anyone to disturb this, as he slides his lips down over your skin towards your breasts.

“I cannot,” he remarks gleefully, “not with such a bounty beneath me.”

His lips clamp onto your left nipple, sucking and swirling his tongue with an intensity that steals the breath from your lungs.

“Might wake fam…” you stumble out, impressed you can even do that.

He pulls up, his biceps in tense relief as he balances on his fists curled on either side of your waist. “Then lock your damn door,” he growls in a way that has you clenching.

“No lock…” you squeak, wishing beyond belief you had one.

“Shit, really?” he sighs, leaning back down to kiss over your sternum. “I’m not sure I can be quiet; I’ve wanted this for too long…”

You go to query that statement, but he moves to your other breast and does the same, so the only sound you are capable of is a guttural moan.

“Shh,” he hushes you back cheekily, tilting his head up from your chest, eyes sparkling and face so achingly handsome you still can barely believe this is happening,

“We really do have to be quiet…” you point out reluctantly.

“I know,” he sighs into your breastbone, dropping a soft kiss there. “I want to tell you so many things….”

“Whisper them to me…” you beseech, running your fingers through his lush, thick head of hair, tilting your breast back up to his mouth.

He smirks and catches your unsubtle hint, once again using his talented mouth to make you shudder under him. He runs a finger down your centre line to your belly.

“Your body is perfect,” he sighs. You go to protest, but he shoots you a disapproving look, so you bite back your words. “I could get lost for hours tracing your lines,” he hums, his featherlight touch tickling as it crosses under your belly button, making you giggle. “Hmm, a little ticklish too,” he sounds utterly captivated by that discovery, throwing you a very troublesome expression.

“Don't use it against me…” you warn, knowing he will ignore you, a fizzy feeling at this playfulness.

“Oh, I just might…” he chuckles as he runs his tongue lower over your torso, a hot, damp line that leaves fluttering in his wake. “I could do this all night…your skin is so soft,” he purrs, inhaling deeply, nuzzling his nose above the line of your pyjama bottoms. “You always smell so fantastic,” he sighs, using his teeth to tug on the ribbon.

You’ve never had someone be this vocal during intimacy. It makes you feel reassured but also slightly bewildered by just how aroused you are getting, Benedict’s resonant voice skittering compliments over your skin, making you embarrassingly wet. Your hands greedily pull at his t-shirt, hoping he will get the hint.

“If you want something from me, you have to say it,” he teases as he switches to using his fingers to undo the bow on your pyjamas.

“Please take off your top, Ben,” you mewl, even as your heart pounds at the idea you will soon be naked under him.

“I will,” he promises, “in a minute…”

As if sensing your apprehension about removing your last item of clothing, he leaves it in place, shuffling lower and stretching your legs wide with his shoulders. You gasp loudly as his mouth, hot through the thin cotton protecting your modesty, sucks insistently over your slit. A large hand curling around your hip to stop you canting off the bed. Your clit throbs, and your pussy leaks copiously down your bottom.

“Fuck I can tell how wet you are even through this fabric,” he stutters.

“I'm sorry...” you squirm, embarrassed.

He surges upright, grabs your hands from around his head and cages them on the mattress beside your hips.

“Let's get two things very clear,” his voice stern but achingly seductive. “One, your body is incredible, and you should know by now how much I desire you. Two, if you ever apologise again for being turned on, I will be annoyed. Do you know how proud I am? That I can do this to you? How absolutely rigid this makes me?” rutting his hard cock against your left calf to prove his point. “I want your desire running down to your knees. I want you mindless and trembling with need for me.”

“O-okay,” you stumble out, entranced. This filthy poetry and feralness is beyond anything you could imagine him capable of. You have seen hints of his menacing potential, but full force, it’s breathtaking.

“Good,” he smiles crookedly, releasing your hands. “Now lift your hips so I can get you properly naked,” the slightly bossy rejoinder really working for you.

Mutely, you do as bidden, his fingertips trailing fire down your hips as he tugs the material over your thighs, impatiently pulling them from around your ankles and tossing them over his shoulder, his gaze locked onto your body. He groans a curse, and you again find yourself clenching around nothing at his untamed response.

Whispering his name is a reflex, your fingers carding again into his hair as he lowers his mouth and suckles the skin of your hip before slowly, almost torturously, winding his way lower towards your centre. Every place he touches feels alive and fluttering, him whispering reassurance and praise into your flesh, like a sensual requiem that catches your breath. By the time he trails his nose down the crease where your thigh meets your body, you are panting, eyes screwed shut, head tilted back, anticipation knotting your guts.

“Look at me,” he orders softly, his face framed by your thighs as you gulp and look down the plane of your body to him. “Don’t look away; I want to see your eyes when I do this,” his breath hot on your slit.

He unfurls his tongue and ploughs through your wet flesh, making your toes and fingers curl. You have to bite your lip and curse behind your teeth, the sensation overwhelming, his eye flashing fire in his blown pupils at your bodily reaction. You hiss loudly, needing to call out so bad your lungs ache. You twist your pillow to bite down on a corner but keep your eyes on him as told. He chuckles pridefully, the sensation shooting up your pelvis, then keeps going. Teasing around your clit with a lathing action that is nothing like you've had before, devouring, using his whole face, strong arms wrapping your thighs in a vice-like grip, held lewdly open It feels so good that within moments you are panting. Still, part of you is tense, scared about your ability to be silent.

“Relax,” he breathes, shaking your hip gently in his grip, sensing the tension in your being.

“I'm worried I won't be able to stay quiet enough,” you admit, muffled around the pillowcase, looking away to stare at the ceiling as he busses a soft kiss onto your inner thigh.

“One moment…” he withdraws and hops off the bed. You watch, vaguely dazed, as he drags a heavy chair against the door and wedges it under the handle so it can’t be opened. “There, now we should get some warning.”.

When he turns back around, you instinctively pull the cover over yourself to hide your naked body, even as you can’t help but stare at the tent in his pyjama bottoms, mouth watering at visions of what lies beneath.

“Don’t do that,” he reproaches softly, “show yourself to me.”

Reluctantly, you push the sheet away again, squirming slightly as his eyes roam your body lasciviously as he prowls over to you, stripping off his t-shirt as he does. His naked torso is perfect, toned and honed, and as he crawls over you, you are hypnotised by the view.

“You are so beautiful,” he sighs, dropping a kiss on the tip of your nose, the scent of your arousal on his face. “Never cover yourself in front of me; you should be proud of your body.”

You’ve never had someone say that before, and your insides are molten, a need for him that burns so bright, an inferno purely of his making.

“Tell me what you want,” he proposes, lacing your fingers with his, kissing your fingertips, then sucking them into his mouth, looking at you expectantly as you stutter at his warm, wet, talented tongue lathing over your fingertips.

“Everything…” you blurt out honestly. “Anything. This is all wonderful… Can I return the favour for you?” you deflect, brushing your other hand tentatively over his bulge as he hovers over you.

“Yes, you bloody can,” he growls, releasing your fingers from his lips as his eyes flash dark. But he grabs your hand away from his cock, calming his tone. “But not tonight. Another time…”

“Another time?” you echo, temporarily stunned by the idea this isn't a never-to-be-repeated Christmas miracle.

“Yes. Why would you think this a one-time thing?” his brow knits as he drops a kiss on your cheek. “What about my actions and words tonight suggest that?”

“Nothing, I suppose,” you concede, “just history…”

He cups your jaw. “The past is the past. This is now and me,” he states clearly, running a thumb tenderly over your lip. “I will do whatever you want. If you tell me to leave this room right now, I will, and I won't think any less of you…”

“Don't you dare,” it's a snarl from some dark recess deep inside you, your legs twining around his to lock him in place.

“There she is…” he chuckles, that lopsided grin taking over his face before kissing a line down your throat. “Now tell me what you want, y/n.”

“I want you inside me,” you confess, running your hands over his naked back, loving the play of muscles under warm skin.

He groans at your words, an edge of teeth on your jugular, making you ripen, feel daring. If he wants to know just how wild he makes you, you are going to show it. You grab his face and drag it up until he is over you again, his pupils blown and his hair a mess from your tugging.

“Fuck me, right now, Ben,” you demand hotly, pushing your body up into his and delving a hand inside the back of his pyjamas to grab his shapely rear, keen for him to be as naked as you.

He snarls and pins your arms beside your head on the pillow.

“Do you have any condoms?” he breathes hot in your ear.

“Ah shit,” your head thumps back, chastising yourself for not planning better. But then this seemed like such an unlikely outcome, frankly miraculous; why on earth would you have?

“Good thing I came prepared then,” he teases, releasing his grip to produce a small packet from the pocket of his pyjamas.

“You….” you scold, equal parts impressed and irked, running your fingers around his waistband.

“It was a sincere wish, not an expected conclusion,” he smiles bashfully, his lips meeting yours for a searing kiss as he slips off the last of his clothing.

A shiver runs down your spine as he bears you into the mattress, naked, his rigid cock brandishing the inside of your thigh. He keeps kissing you over and over until your lips feel tingly from the slight hint of stubble around his. You wrap all of your limbs around him, craving for your bodies to be melded.

When he pushes up slightly to rip open the packet, you glance down and see, nestled in a patch of trimmed hair, a sizeable but very pretty cock. You can’t resist reaching out and touching it, loving the feel of steely strength under the silky texture; his soft groan is like music to your ears. Sighing his name, you are impatient for him to be inside you, already knowing it will feel wonderful, part of you craving skin on skin.

Again he wears that demure smile, looking up at you through his lashes, so you take over, eagerly rolling the condom onto that pretty cock and then pulling him down on top of you forcefully.

“I like it when you are just a little bossy,” he confesses into your mouth, one hand pulling the cover over you both, then sliding between your bodies to guide himself towards you.

“I like it when you are a little bossy,” you counter, but then all your words die out as his cock slides insistently into you.

Your eyes roll back as he inches inside, so much heat and girth, your body stretching to accommodate his invasion. You both seem to utter a curse, and your hands grasp each other tight.

“You feel amazing…” he murmurs as he bottoms out, the feeling of fullness so perfect.

You whisper your agreement as he withdraws and surges back in, your feet curling around his legs, toes sliding into the light fuzz on the back of his calves. There are soft sighs, both of you trying to muffle your sounds as he sets a languid pace, your body rolling with his; each push has your walls clinging to him, your breasts squashing against his broad chest. What strikes you most as you move together is that nothing is awkward; it all feels natural, predestined, an easy intimacy that suggests months or even years together rather than a first time.

He feels so good moving inside you, so perfect; all you can do is cling to him, trying to convey with your eyes what you dare not voice. Afraid that if you open your mouth, you will release the noises you are fighting to hold in, blazing in your lungs. His stare is blistering, too, a blush across his face that speaks of desire and denied words, his neck corded, a pulse beating wildly in his prominent vein, a sheen gathering on his forehead as he pushes into you over and over.

His breath is hot on your temple as he shifts, dropping a shoulder and reaching down, looping your leg into the crook of his arm, the sheet pulling taut around your knee as he does. He hits a new spot deep inside with his next thrust, which has you digging your nails into his back and whimpering behind your sealed lips. It's as if he is doing his damnedest to break you, make you cry out, and it's the best torture you have ever known.

You huff out of your nose as he does the same, both sounding winded, as he picks up the pace, your teenage bed starting to squeak in protest.

“Shhh,” you plead with the furniture as much as him.

He stops moving, buried in you, and reaches above, stuffing a throw pillow between the bedframe and the wall, his arms flexing deliciously right over your face, the scent of his body spiking your need. It makes you grasp your thighs around his hips and flip him over, landing with a bounce, him still inside as you are on top of him now.

“Wow, that was…” he looks both astounded and exhilarated.

“Surprising?” you supply with a triumphant crooked smile of your own, your hands tracing the lines of his pectorals.

“Wonderful,” he clarifies, his hands grasping your hips as you start to ride him. The way he looks up at you, with dark pupils and a bitten lip, makes you fearless. Starting a leisurely pace, you place your hands over his on your hips, fingers lacing as his eyes slip from yours briefly, transfixed by his cock disappearing into you.

He groans low, undulating beneath you, pushing up as you sink down, his eyes back to your face, a prideful expression as your mouth drops open, his cock nudging deeper than ever before, almost a dull ache that you need, moving faster now, chasing that hit with every downstroke. You can feel your body flushing hot from the exertion, your thigh muscles burning slightly. Still, you don't waver, too addicted to that feeling of being so utterly filled, his cock dragging all the right places inside that switch off your brain and forget everything, every doubt, every uncertainty about yourself and your body, and just chase pleasure.

“My god, you are beautiful,” he gasps, “I love to see you like this, so untamed, so free…”

The compliments just drip like whispered jewels from his tongue as he guides your joined hands up to your breasts and grabs them with a force that fans the heavy, hot feeling in your pelvis, his knuckles snagging your sensitive buds. It makes you want to ride him forever, your clit throbbing each time you sink down, tugging temptingly but not enough to quite tip you over. The clawing sensation of being so close makes you drag your fingernails down his torso and clench around his cock. He stutters and looks at you hungrily, possessed, and then, before you know it, the room tilts as he rolls you back under him, again never leaving your body.

He withdraws and thrusts back into you with such force the wind is knocked out of your lungs, the pillow muffling the thud against the wall. Something in the atmosphere shifts; an urgency, like the heat that has been simmering, is now boiling over for both of you. He grabs your knees and encourages you to wrap your legs high around his torso, tilting your pelvis to a new angle, and when he moves, you cry loudly behind your lips, his body glancing at your clit.

He hushes you with a prideful chuckle. So you grab one of his hands and place it over your mouth, knowing you cannot trust yourself to stay quiet now. The hitch in his breath as you gag yourself with his palm is like poetry.

Oh, Ben, you have no idea what I may want from you one day…

Your errant thoughts run to your darker fantasies, things you’ve never done before but are intrigued by, and in every one of them, it's him. Treating you just a little rough while you beg for more.

“Whatever you are thinking,” he gusts into your ear, moving faster now, “I hope it involves me.”

You nod, feeling his fingers flex across your face.

“Good, I can't wait for you to tell me,” he rasps lowly.

A bead of sweat forms along his hairline as the whole bed rocks now, the trapped pillow muffling the sound, his punishing pace pushing you ever closer to orgasm, pleasure spiking with each thrust. His hand grips your jaw; something about that pressure and the sweet words he murmurs is a contradiction of primal and tender. Sex before has always been one or the other for you; blended together, it's a potent elixir.

He takes you hard, without mercy, and you silently beg him with your eyes for just that; his cock feels so hot and rigid, pounding into you as your cries are muffled by his tangy palm. The onslaught is perfect, and you are teetering on the edge just as he pleads roughly with you to come with him. So you let yourself go, your mind blanks out, your body bucking under his violently. Shuddering convulsions fanning out from your pussy, gripping tight around him and racing through every ounce of your being, muscles taut, eyes screwed shut, a scream trapped in your lungs. He stills above you, his hand releasing your mouth as that bead of sweat splashes down onto your nose. He curls around you, coming hard, huffing gulps of air and twitching almost violently with tiny aftershocks.

After a pause filled with panted breaths and strokes on overheated skin, he carefully withdraws and discards the condom.

“Merry Christmas,” you giggle into his neck as you collapse together.

He hauls you into his embrace, tucking you under his arm and kissing your dewy forehead.

“Merry Christmas indeed,” his answer ragged, wrapped in a warm laugh.

And that is how you both drift off - exhausted, sated bodies entwined, damp skin pressed together.

___

A few hours later, you are awakened by overexcited nieces and nephews thundering down the stairs, eager to see what Santa has brought them. It takes a moment to recall what transpired overnight, a telltale delicious residual pang between your legs, followed by the realisation you are alone. Part of you relieved Benedict has snuck back to the safety of the den, but a larger part sad not to be waking up in his arms. Sighing, you roll over and spy a jaunty cartoon penguin Christmas card propped up on your bedside table. Upon opening, you beam, immediately recognising the beautiful, looped handwriting.

Y/n

Thank you for the most magical night. Leaving this bed might be the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I can’t think of anywhere else I would rather be on Christmas Day or, indeed, any other day of the year. But I don't want your father to be angry with me. I have a lifetime to disappoint him… if you will let me.

I can't wait to see you downstairs.

Merry Christmas,

B xx

P.S. I may have just booked a hotel for the rest of our stay. I think we deserve some privacy ;)

You giggle, elated; the exciting prospect of nights in a hotel and the pledge of a lifetime ahead makes your stomach leap—this could be the start of something. You momentarily clutch the card to your chest, revelling in your joy, before burying it into your book for safekeeping and going to take a shower.

When you descend the stairs, out of the picture window, you see most of the family gathered on the street with the kids circling on their new bikes. But as you round into the living room, a sight melts your heart. Benedict sitting cross-legged on the floor with Sofia, a novelty Santa hat perched on his head, surrounded by shreds of wrapping paper, festive music playing in the background as he puts batteries in some loud plastic toy that will no doubt drive everyone up the wall for the rest of the day.

She whoops with delight as the toy noisily springs to life and runs away to play with it. That's when he looks up and sees you watching from the doorway, his face lighting up. Slowly, he gets to his feet, and then you gasp as he wordlessly pulls you into his arms, brings your hand to his face and kisses your knuckles before starting to waltz.

“I didn't know you could dance like this, Mr Bridgerton,” you tease, impressed, allowing him to lead you around, dodging haphazard toys and boxes.

“Oh, there are so many, many things you have yet to learn about me, Ms y/l/n,” he proclaims alluringly as Frank Sinatra croons from the speaker.

♫ It's that time of year When the world falls in love Every song you hear seems to say Merry Christmas May your New Year's dreams come true. ♫

“I hope you don't have plans for New Year's,” he whispers into your hair as he brings you to a halt. “I would very much like you to accompany me to Aubrey Hall. As my girlfriend,” he explains, grinning. “Not fake,” he adds drolly after a pause.

You laugh, feeling lightheaded and giddy, but just as you go to answer, you are both interrupted by a little hand tugging on his jeans.

“Uncle Ben, you are my favouritist,” Sofia declares solemnly. “Will you visit every Christmas?”

Meeting your gaze, his expression contains multitudes.

“It would be my greatest honour, Sofia,” he replies to her, even though his eyes never stray from yours.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies

Lights divider by @/saradika [x]

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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lessi-lover · 5 months ago

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sickness strikes onces more II c.foord x k.mccabe

summary: you wake up sick this morning but you get taken care of ★ sickness strikes once more II k.mccabe x c.foord

you hadn't woken up feeling well this morning. it was something you couldn't quite figure out, but you could feel your face burning and your body ache from head to toe as you sat up in bed.

you tried to convince yourself that you were fine, mam says to mummy all the time that she is not feeling good and that her legs are sore, so why would are you any different? in fact you're exactly like your mam so why should you get an off day? mam never has an off day.

the night before you had felt your tummy begin to become a little sore, but you shrugged it off as something you maybe didn't like that you ate, although when you felt the ache spread to your head you decided that you might have been a little dehydrated.

your mothers probably should have seen the tell tale signs that you were coming up with a little bug the previous night, but the two of them were so engrossed in preparing for the upcoming match that they had missed the way you pushed your dinner plate away in pain, or the absence of you trying to convince them to let you go to bed later.

you groaned when you heard the birds outside chirp obnoxiously, it was unlike any other day because usually you would jump out of bed to watch them out the window, but you couldn't bring yourself to even cover your ears this morning.

"cheeky? are you feeling alright?" your mummy asked you, eyeing you suspiciously as you hadn't even noticed her enter your bedroom, only looking up when you felt her hand rest against your quickly fevering forehead.

"hot." you mumbled and caitlin would have missed it if she wasn't looking at you so worriedly. "oh cheeky." she frowned, brushing the loose strands of sweaty hair out of your face. you see the troubled look replace your mam's bright smile when she approaches you.

"what's wrong baby girl? you feeling okay?" her finger swiping away a few tears that you hadn't even noticed slide down your usually happy face. your head was pounding, your face felt hot and sticky, and you could feel the sweat connecting uncomfortably from your pyjamas to your skin.

"cheeky your foreheads burning up." katie says as she peels off your winter socks and pulls up your pyjama pants. your boiling up so fast that somehow your top has ridden up, your stomach heating up and turning a warm peach colour.

caitlin and katie share a look over your quickly heating up body. you had only been to preschool three days this week, but it's winter now and they pawn it off as a bug you had caught from another kid in your class that probably went in with small symptoms their parents hadn't worried too much about.

you're pretty out of it, and you’re not entirely sure what’s happening around you. the room feels like it’s spinning slightly, and the presence of your mother's hands swiping the small layer of sweat off your forehead is the only thing grounding you.

the cool air against your feverish skin only providing a brief moment of relief from the hot flush running up your spine.

by now you've settled down from the hyper aware child you were when your mumma came in to get you for preschool and you're content enough to let katie feed you the medicine she had run downstairs to retrieve.

"here, this should be a bit cooler cait."

she says, offering a small smile that doesn't quite reach her worried eyes. she hands the top to caitlin who nods as she helps you sit up and carefully peels off your top, replacing it with a lighter singlet she had gotten from the cupboard. it feels like her nature to take care of all your needs when she knows you aren't feeling well, but she can't help but worry because you rarely ever get ill.

your mam is already back in her bathroom, getting more medicine that she would be strictly giving to you at every hour, waiting for a small sneeze from your little body to drop everything and nurse you back to health.

"how about some water, sweetheart?" your mumma asks, already reaching for the glass on your bedside table. you nod weakly, and she helps you take a few small sips, the cool liquid soothing your dry hoarse throat.

katie sits down on the bed beside you, her hand resting on your arm, gently rubbing small circles into the flushed skin. "we should have noticed sooner," she murmurs, more to herself than to anyone else because your still distracted by the tickle in your throat. "i'm sorry, baby girl."

you lean into her hand, seeking comfort of having your skin on hers. "it's okay, mam," you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "i should have told you sooner i wasn't feeling good."

as you settle back against your pillows, your mothers fussing around you, you can feel the ache in your body starting to subside just a bit. the care they're showering you with makes you feel a little better, even though you’re still feeling quite miserable.

you manage a small smile, feeling grateful for how your mothers have taken care of you, even when they have training which they haven't yet called in to miss yet. "thank you," you whisper, your voice a little stronger now.

caitlin leans down and kisses your forehead, her smile warm and relieved. "anything for you, cheeky. always.

#woso #woso community #katie mccabe #caitlin foord #woso imagine #katie mccabe x caitlin foord

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year ago

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Jungkook

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 | Part 1

Something's not quite right anymore.

Tags/Warnings: Game Designer!Jungkook, Non Idol AU, established relationship, Angst [Tags will be different for every part!]

Length: 1k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

Collab with @euphoricfilter ! 💜

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

"I'm gonna heat up some leftovers, do you want some, kook?" You call out- but there's no answer, causing you to sigh as your shoulders slump down.

It's been going like this for a good while now- your boyfriend and young gaming enthusiast too invested in everything but you at this point, a total contrast to how he used to be. People would tease him for constantly bringing you up in every conversation left and right, but these days, both directions of his are filled with other things he seemingly deems more important than you. And it's not like you're asking for much- but he by now even forgets to say goodnight, instead focused on whatever he's doing on his laptop and pc or phone.

You're not sure what happened. It's like you've gone back to being just roommates and nothing more than that.

You still plate up a portion of the leftovers for him, despite no reaction coming from the game designer in the other room- just like you always do. It's like you're just a maid, cleaning after him and feeding him every day, and it's frustrating. It reminds you of what you swore yourself you'd never be- you don't want to be tied down to a guy like that, who's just gonna become lazy and won't appreciate you being there for him. That's not the life you want to live.

And yet, you also love him, and you know he's not usually like this. So what changed?

You walk into his room where his equipment is all set up, knocking on the doorway to try and get his attention. He hums a reply, leans over a bit- but he doesn't ever move his eyes away from the screen, blue-light filtering glasses on the bridge of his nose reflecting what he sees. "...warmed up some food." You mumble, as you set the plate and cutlery down on his table- exchanging it for the dirty dishes from this morning. He's working from home these days, and that hurts- because you've been taking time off for once to spend it with him, just to end up taking on another job it feels like.

Full time maid. Huh.

"Thanks." He mumbles, and you just take the other dishes with a sigh, moving to leave- when he whines, and leans over, one of his hands leaving the keyboard to tap his cheek- and you can't help yourself but lean in to kiss it, thinking it might be a sign that he's coming out of his odd hibernation. But he just smiles for a moment before he grows focused again, shutting you out once more as you leave the room to go back into the kitchen to wash the dishes in the sink.

Moments like these are the worst.

It's like he keeps luring you back in with the tiniest of things to keep you hooked, keep you hoping that things might just be getting better- and then they won't, but you've got your fix so you feel at least somewhat satiated. And another part that's been severely lacking, is intimacy.

If he ever actually graces you with any kind of attention in bed, it's usually when you're both about to go to sleep. It's sloppy, tired, exhaustion clear in him even though some might argue that he's just sitting in front of a screen all day. But you know he's not- he's working hard, and it's his dream job, too, so of course he's putting in extra effort to make it count and make sure his work can't ever be replaced. And if it was just that- determination towards his own career- you wouldn't be this upset. But he's got time.

Clearly. He goes out with his friends here and there, but he never has time for you. Like he chooses to ignore you.

It's also odd that he suddenly has such a huge workload on himself, when before, he's not even been working this hard if he had to crunch towards a deadline. No, these days it appears as if he's working all the time- and it's caused even a moment that left him more than embarrassed, body so worn out and under the pressure of whatever stress he's going through, that he just.. couldn't get it up.

Maybe that's it?

No, it really can't be. You're made sure he knew that you didn't mind it, that you understood and that you'd probably even forget it soon anyways. And that night, he still slept close to you, didn't seem too upset about it anymore as he held you like always, snoring away until the alarm clock woke both of you back up at five AM sharp.

This is stupid. What's really going on?

It's late when he finally emerges from his office, entering the bedroom where you're already under the covers, and from the way he's still dressed, it's clear that he isn't coming to bed any time soon. "Kook, no.." You whine, reaching out for him as he opens the dresser to take a fresh shirt out. "You've been working all day!" You complain, but he just sighs, as he changes shirts, turning around after he's finished throwing the black fabric over his upper body. He crawls onto the bed close to you, pecks your lips- and you hate it.

Because the way you does it feels like an apology for what's to come.

"I know, but I already told the boys I'd be out.." He hums against your lips, and you're really trying hard to keep him, hands on his cheek moving to snake around his neck. "I won't be back too late." He promises, but you just pout at him, making him attempt to kiss it away. And for a moment, you feel like you might have a chance-

But then he chuckles and parts from you, leaning back.

"Now go to bed baby." He smiles, getting up to walk towards the bedroom door. "I'll be quiet when I come back, yeah?" He asks, and you just turn around to hide under the covers, huffing a somewhat answer out.

Unaware that deep down, it really pains him to treat you this way. But it'll be worth it.

He'll make sure of it.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts jeon jungkook imagine

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sciencebecameouraddiction · 8 months ago

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title: Weakness is For Fools (PT 3)

author: sciencebecameouraddiction

fandom: hazbin hotel

rating: PG

genre: Angst with a happy end

pairing: Alastor x Reader (Use of Y/N)

warnings: Alastor is not with it on this, unhinged, confused and a bit of back story sprinkled in. Rosie is also not having any of Alastor’s shit. Alastor may be OOC

summary: Alastor had never felt this before, and he swore he would never have a weakness.

← PART 2

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

“Alastor standing there in an apron is scary.” Angel murmured watching as the Radio Demon set plates down on a table.

“The only reason I’m standing here is because Rosie told me she made sure the food was edible.” Charlie added on watching from the bar.

“I still have a bad feeling about this…” Vaggie murmured. Husk grunted in agreement.

“C’mon Vaggie, we have to give him a chance, even if it is scary.” Charlie said, walking over.

“Do you want some help setting up or anything?” Charlie asked Alastor. He started to respond when Rosie peaked her head out from the corner.

“Nope! He’s got it all covered, don’t you Alastor?” Rosie asked, feeling like a mother of a century old being.

“I-I have this, my dear. Go back and relax. It’s the-“ He looks physically ill as he says “It’s the least I can… do. After everything.” Charlie nodded and left.

“Okay, did Alastor get replaced? This is like 180 for him.” Angel commented, taking a sip of his drink.

“I think more than his soul is gone now. Maybe like his frontal lobe?” Husk asked.

“Oh! A lobotomy! I had one of those alive.” Nifty pipes up manically chuckling as everyone looks down at her. Angel just pats her head as she scurries off.

“I’m really not sure. Maybe he feels bad?” Charlie added.

“Not gonna bring back Y/N though.” Husk mentioned. “It would be a miracle-“ Just then Husk was cut off and the door opened as you walked in. You smiled as you saw your friends and they all called your name.

Rosie came and stood off to the side and when you saw her you ran up to her and hugged her. “Rosie, oh my gosh, I’ve missed you!”

“I’ve missed you too ya little sweetheart. Glad you could make it to dinner.” Rosie smiled.

“Oh I wouldn’t miss it for the-“ You stop and stare seeing Alastor come around the corner holding what looked to be a pie. “World.” You finished softly, your hand gripping Rosie’s shirt tighter. Alastor looks up, wondering why it was quiet and immediately sees you. His damn heart flutters at the sight of you and grimaces at the feeling. He takes a step forward, not knowing what else to do, but stops when you take a step back from him. His eyes widen and he holds up his hands in mock surrender and leaves around the corner. Rosie sighs and then looks at you.

“Don’t you worry about him.” She says and brings you over to the table. “This is an apology dinner but it’s also so you and your friends can talk.” You nod and sit, everyone coming to the table as Rosie goes into the back kitchen where all the food was. That’s when she hears quick breathing and when she sees Alastor in the middle of a panic attack.

“Alastor?” Rosie asks gently.

“I-I can’t do this. Why can’t I do this? I’m the Radio Demon for fucks sake.” He growls, hands pulling at his hair.

“Because you’re scared.” Rosie gently says, pulling his hands away from his hair and smoothing it out. “You’re scared that they won’t accept your apology, even though you need them to, you’re not sure you want them to, because you feel you don’t deserve it.”

Alastor looks up shocked. “How?”

“Because I know you, honey. You’re my best friend.” Rosie says plainly. “Even if you are a little daft sometimes.” She sighs and grabs the last few bits. “They consider you a friend whether you like it or not Alastor, figure out if you consider them friends, and then apologize.” She says and walks out. Alastor grabs the drinks and carries them out, the conversation not dying down when he entered this time. Somehow, the only seat open was next to you, and you were engaged in a fully heated discussion with Husk and Angel on who the best housewife was from a show you all three watched. He sat down next to you, and just watched, looking to Rosie who smiled at him. A part of him, the small part he thought he buried, turns out he didn’t, wanted to leave. He had never felt more alienated and alone.

A glass clinging tore him from his thoughts as he looked up to Charlie. She thanked him and Rosie for the food and the preparations tonight and then handed the floor off to Alastor. He cleared his throat.

“I-“ He sighed and looked at Rosie again. She nodded in encouragement. “I am sorry.” The collective gasps were distracting but not as much as Angel pulling out his phone trying to film. “Angel, I do not wish to be recorded by your device, put it away before I snap it and then eat it.”

Angel’s eyes widened and he quickly put it away. “I am sorry.” Alastor repeated, as he did, he felt the old Alastor fall away, almost like a shed of skin from a snake. In its place stood something raw and something new. Something he had no idea how to navigate. To this version of himself, his… friends were important.

“I was wrong to be as horrible as I was a few weeks ago to all of you. It was inexcusable.” There was silence so Alastor took that as a sign to continue. “I… value… each one of you. And Y/N?” He asked you specifically. Your head whipped up. “I am especially… sorry… to you.”

You look at Alastor and the whole table seems to be waiting on your reaction. You get up and walk over to him, his eyes widen and he steps back a bit, but you follow until you are right in front of him. Your eyes searching his, when you suddenly wrap him in a hug. He freezes and slowly wraps his arms around you, relaxing in your arms.

“You’re an idiot.” You murmur to him.

“That’s the third time this week I’ve been called that.” Alastor murmured.

“It fits.” You quipped back. Alastor sighs and looks at you.

“I am truly sorry.” He says.

“I know. I know you are.” You say, nodding your head.

“Does this mean you’ll move back to the hotel?” Charlie’s asks, sliding up to you both. You look between her and Alastor, his ears perking up a bit.

“Yeah, as long as my room is still available.” You say, joking.

“Oh, you don’t have ta worry about that, toots. Smiles here made sure no one but him even went near your room.” Angel laughed and you looked at Alastor. He glared at Angel.

“Had to make sure it was ready for your return.” He whispered.

“You just assumed I was coming back?” You asked, gently bumping his shoulder with yours. He looked bewildered for a second and then shook his head.

“No. No. But I… Hoped.”

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╝

← PART 2

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor altruist #alastor angst #alastor/reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor fanfiction #alastor x reader #alastor

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jackthepeeper · 2 months ago

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English is not my first language, I've never written a fanfic before

Ramattra x GN!Reader

CWs: Slight NSFW(?)

Summary: Ramattra enjoys having repairs done to him way too much

You cautiously reach deeper inside, with your hand disappearing up to the elbow in his chest cavity through a small opening in his midriff, each section of his "abs" detachable if need be.

There's enough room to wiggle your soft flesh without touching the surrounding machinery. You're sat in his lap, with his visors burying holes in your forehead from underneath the emotionless plate of his face. The pressure is driving you wild, and you lose yourself briefly trying to decide which is hotter: his insides, where the scorching wind from his fans licks your skin, already sleek with sweat, or your cheeks, flush with embarrassment.

You're not an engineer. Far from possessing any meaningful prowess in mechanics, only having fixed house appliances a couple times in your entire life. But you're the best thing he can count on, and the task is more than simple: you just have to replace an extremely distinct knob just under his shoulder blade, easily accessible from the inside if you are lucky to have hands small enough to fit through the access hole. He sighs, flexing his giant palm idly. If he wanted, he could've closed his fingers around your thigh with ease.

You locate the knob, feel its melted form and unscrew it as carefully as you can while the edge of his armor digs into your skin, drastically reducing the freedom of movement you have. With your fingers tiptoeing around a ruined part of his, your eyes track every movement of the rest of the omnic's body. You don't trust him, just as much as he doesn't trust you. He sighs, his giant frame shuddering, vents creaking open and fans whirring louder as his head comes to rest against the wall he's leaning onto. You continue.

The knob falls into your palm eventually, and you can almost feel his disappointment of being empty as you retrieve it, completely pulling your hand out of the oven of his chest. He puts a heavy hand on your hip - a gesture you interpret as him making sure you don't run off without installing the new part in place of the ruined one. You shift against his thigh, and he grips harder as you plunge your hand back inside, bolder now than before.

Rough movements of your palm, metal being dragged against his insides as you try to insert the new knob where it belongs, failing miserably. He groans, and you feel every single one of his slender fingers dig into your flesh. You are sloppy, way too confident, a stray wire catching onto your finger as you screw in the knob. His heavy breathing replaces all your senses, leaving only the task at hand and the heat enveloping your body. Why would an omnic breathe anyway?

This time you can't even get your hand out without trouble. You're stuck in a rat king of his inner workings, your fingers slithering along the edges of his machinery, tracing thick wires in an attempt to find a way out of the endless loops, and to your horror you feel him tighten around you, heavy breaths turning into gasps and whimpers as you become more frantic, trying to free your hand from the scorching hot trap. Your lower body comes flush against the plate covering his groin as he drags you with both hands now, moving your flesh closer to his metal torso, deliberately grinding against the softness of your belly - you are too scared, too concentrated on the wires ensnaring your wrist to read him. You think he is in pain.

Your ass is the perfect size to fit in his palm, meat squeezing between his fingers as he holds you in place while his hips buck to meet your welcoming curves. He moans, silver caps on the ends of his flat cable "hair" clanking against his shoulders as he throws his head back and relaxes as suddenly as if he'd pressed his own power button.

You remain in his lap, playing with the limp wires until he wakes up.

#ramattra #ramattra x reader #ramattra x you #overwatch #overwatch 2 #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you

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frudoo · 2 months ago

Text

Bells Ring (2)

Title: Bells Ring

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Warnings: Mentions of self-harm (scratching), blood. One slap. Ewan is a warning of his own lmao.

MDNI

You’ve never succumbed to torture, but you can only imagine it hurts about as much as watching Ewan devour his overcooked steak without a care in the world, as if you haven’t just discovered that he has done the worst thing a spouse could do to you, his wife. It is pure agony being the only one to know of his affair. You’re not even sure if he’s noticed your lack of appetite or the pain in your expression. You’re not sure any of them have.

The prongs of your fork scrape against the fine china plate with a piercing screech, and three sets of curious eyes fall upon your flinching figure. You feel about as small as a junebug and just as inferior. The small grin you had seen on your husband’s face while he ate disappears when he looks at you, replaced by an annoyed downturn of his lips.

“Ye wuid be wise tae mind yer manners,” Ewan hisses, cold eyes narrowing at you before returning to the meal in front of him.

“My apologies, Your Highness,” you whisper, biting your lip to hold back the tears that threaten to spill from your red-tinged eyes.

“Wha’s gotten intae ye anywey?” Your husband questions, and you stiffen, the room suddenly suffocating, making you gasp for precious breath as your silverware drops onto the table with a clang.

“A-apologies, may I… I should like to cool down in my chambers,” you ramble, quickly standing from your chair and nearly tripping yourself in the process.

Ewan’s booming, irritated voice follows behind you as you rush through the halls, but you ignore him, desiring nothing more than to curl up beneath your duvet and cry your shriveled little heart out. Unfortunately you were not quick enough. Your husband slams his hand down on your shoulder and spins you so that you’re facing him, his dark eyebrows pinched together and pupils so shrunken you’d think he was about to berate a naughty dog. Perhaps that is how he sees you and precisely what he plans to do.

“Ye listen t’me,” you can feel the hot puffs of air escaping his nose like an irate dragon breathing fire, and fleetingly you wonder if the princesses locked up in those towers far, far away were not quite so miserable.

Despite his crystal clear demands, your mind does not process a single word your husband is saying, even as he presses your back against the wall and traps you in—funny, that very gesture used to make giddy heat blossom in your lower belly, and now it just makes your head pound with irritation and despair. You see his stubbled mouth moving and distantly recognize them as words you’re familiar with, but it’s as if no sound makes it to your ears.

“I read your letter,” you blurt out, causing Ewan to stop in the middle of his lecture.

A kaleidoscope of emotions twist in his oceanic eyes before settling on a devastating display of fear and rapidly heightening anger. Your husband scoffs, stepping back to cross his arms like a petulant child told they cannot open their Christmas present early. He’s utterly speechless, and perhaps you shouldn’t say anything more, but slippery words spill from your mouth before you can gather the sense to stop them on your tongue.

“I know it was not my place-”

“Ye’re reit, it wasnae yers tae-”

“Your Highness, please, just allow me to explain,” your bottom lip puckers as you reach out to place your hands on his chest, but he jerks away from your touch with a grimace. “I know it was not my place to read something of yours, but the fragrance on it was one I did not recognize. At first, I believed it may have been a relative of yours I was not made aware of, but that is not true, is it?”

Ewan’s gaze falls to the floor beneath his feet, but no effort to speak is made. His silence tugs at your heartstrings, and for once, it is not grief you feel but anger. Betrayal.

“Who is Coralie?” You question, pushing your foot between his to startle him into meeting your eyes once again. “As your wife, you owe me that.”

Still, no sound makes itself known from his traitorous lips, and it is enough to prove your suspicions as though the evidence had not already revealed itself to you. When you turn on your heels to continue the journey to your chambers, he does not dare follow you. There is no need to glance over your shoulder to know that he is still stood in place with that same dreadful expression on his face.

Your hands are shaking when you sit at the edge of your bed. Your nerves feel like they have been set ablaze, sharp pinpricks dancing across your skin viciously. Your senses are overwhelmed, your head is pounding, and the tremors swimming through you are the breaking point. A raspy scream rises from your throat, ricocheting off of the walls and startling the maids as well as yourself. You try to claw the pain away, digging your nails into your skin and scraping as hard as you can until blood cakes beneath the keratin.

An infinite amount of hands come rushing toward you from all over the palace, holding you down or giving you something to drink so that you can relax. The taste of honey and tart cherries runs down your aching throat before your body finally exhausts itself and you cannot fight them off any longer. In your chambers remain the nurse and a couple of laundresses who could not bear to leave you in this state.

The elixir you’d been given must have finally worked its way into your body, as sleep comes easy for you while the nurse cleans your wounds and bandages you up. She ties off the last tourniquet expertly, patting your hand fondly before pulling away to look you over. You are at peace in your sleep, no thoughts of your husband’s adultery making their way into your dreams, no fits stirring you from your slumber. It is the best sleep you have had in months.

Ewan is not quite so lucky, nervously shifting on both feet in the presence of his father. King MacTavish looks ready to have his head served up on a silver platter, his knuckles white from how tightly they grip his chair. Before your husband gets the chance to speak, his father inhales deeply, gruff voice rumbling lowly.

“Ah’ve tolerated this… quarrel ‘tween ye and yer wife fer long enough, now, but the state she is in—the state ye put ‘er in—is shameful,” John frowns, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wha’ were yer vows tae yer wife?”

“Da, ah dinnae understand-” John interrupts the baffled younger man, raising his large hand with a flick of his wrist.

“Mus’ ah repeat such a simple question? Answer me, no’ as yer father, bu’ as yer king.”

“Tae have an’ tae hold, fer better fer worse, fer richer fer poorer, in sickness an’ in health, tae love and tae cherish, till death do us part,” Ewan sighs, head lifted slightly to look at his father for approval.

“Continue,” John raises an eyebrow, displeased with the pathetic look on the prince’s face.

Ewan sucks in a deep breath through his nose, biting the side of his tongue to avoid raising his voice to the older man the way he so desperately desires to. Even upset, he knows better.

“Wit’ this ring ah thee wed, wit’ mah body ah thee worship, an’ wit’ all mah worldly goods ah thee endow, in the name of the Father, an’ of the Son, an’ of the Holy Ghost.”

“Ye made those vows ‘fore God, aye?” The king questions, fingertips tapping along the armrests of his seat.

“Aye, sir,” your husband nods, eyes darting all around the room nervously.

“Then why is yer wife bed-bound wit’ only the nurse tae keep ‘er company?” The king frowns. “Did she no’ make the same vows? Was she no’ there fer ye when ye fell ill some time ago?”

“Aye, she was, bu’... Father, we are no’...” Ewan hesitates, pulling at the hangnails adorning his fingertips.

“Speak, boy. Ah ken there is somethin’ ye’re keepin’ from me.”

“Ah’ve fallen fer another,” Ewan mutters, and the room falls silent—if someone were to drop a quill, the sound would resonate throughout the entire area.

“Pardon?” John speaks after an uncomfortable amount of quiet, his ordinarily blue eyes nearly black with emotion.

“When ah wen’ tae Paris, ah met a lass, an’... we fell in love.”

The king shuts his eyes and nods shortly, rising to his feet and slowly approaching his son. The prince flinches when John gets close, and rightfully so—he does not hesitate to slap the younger man’s cheek with the back of his hand, hard enough to leave red marks on both of them. Shocked, Ewan grabs his affected cheek and looks at his father with perched eyebrows and a hurt pout on his lips.

“Father-”

“Ye are nae son o’mine,” John spits, jaw clenched so tightly that his teeth grind, the dull ache overlooked in the midst of his rage. “Return tae yer chambers. Ah dinnae wish tae see ye a moment longer.”

Now playing the part of the kicked dog, Ewan follows orders and sits at the edge of his bed, seething.

#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x fem!reader #john mactavish x fem!reader #SoundCloud

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isuckatwritingsobenice · 3 months ago

Note

HAZBIN HOTEL HEADCANONS (if u want :3)

I don’t request anything most of the time from anyone so I sincerely hope I’m doing this right lol

Anyways! I was wondering if I could get a Vox x (s/o) reader where Vox yells at his (s/o) in a heated fight and he ends up scaring (s/o). Like maybe she doesn’t like confrontation or has this thing about being yelled at and usually ends up crying and avoiding whoever yelled at her for quite some time? Idk. Lowkey just in the mood for angst 😩

Thank you!

Synopsis: vox and you argue 😔 he’s not very demure

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!

Breaking Point

The apartment was unnervingly quiet. You sat on the edge of the couch, knees drawn to your chest, fingers gripping the fabric of your sweater as if it could anchor you to the present moment. The TV flickered in front of you, but the show had long since faded into background noise, overshadowed by the tension between you and Vox. Tonight was supposed to be a peaceful evening, a chance for you both to unwind after the long, stressful week. But the calm had shattered, replaced by a storm you hadn’t seen coming.

It had started with something small—an offhand comment about how little time you’d been spending together lately. Vox had been busy with work, his streaming schedule packed to the brim, and it had left you feeling more alone than usual. You didn’t mean to sound accusatory, but the words slipped out, and the conversation took a turn you weren’t prepared for.

“You know it’s not like I’m avoiding you, [Y/N],” Vox had said, his tone strained as he tried to keep his frustration in check. “I’ve got a lot on my plate right now. It’s not fair to guilt-trip me for that.”

“I’m not guilt-tripping you,” you replied, your voice softer than you intended. “I just… I miss you. It feels like we’re drifting apart, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Vox sighed, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of exasperation. “What do you want me to do, huh? Just drop everything? You know how important this is to me.”

“I’m not asking you to drop everything,” you said, feeling your own frustration rising. “I just want to feel like I matter, like I’m not just another obligation on your to-do list.”

And that’s when things started to spiral.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Vox snapped, his voice suddenly sharp, his eyes narrowing as he glared at you. “Do you think I don’t care about you? Everything I’m doing, I’m doing for us—for our future. But it’s like you don’t see that. You just see the time I’m not spending with you.”

You flinched at the harshness in his tone, the words stinging more than you expected. “I never said you didn’t care,” you muttered, looking down at your hands, trying to steady your racing heart. “I just wish you’d talk to me, let me in instead of shutting me out.”

“I’m not shutting you out,” Vox shot back, his voice rising as his frustration boiled over. “But I can’t be everything all the time. I’m exhausted, [Y/N]. And it feels like no matter what I do, it’s never enough for you.”

His words echoed in your mind, each one like a slap to the face. You felt a lump forming in your throat, the familiar sting of tears welling up in your eyes, but you fought them back, refusing to cry. Not now, not in the middle of this.

“I never said you weren’t enough,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the effort to hold it together. “I just… I don’t know what to do, Vox. I don’t know how to fix this.”

“Fix what?!” Vox threw his hands up in exasperation, his voice loud enough to rattle the picture frames on the walls. “There’s nothing to fix, [Y/N]! I’m doing the best I can, but it’s like you don’t even see that! You keep pushing, and pushing, and I’m at my limit!”

His voice boomed through the apartment, the anger and frustration spilling over in a way you hadn’t seen before. You’d had disagreements in the past, sure, but nothing like this. The intensity in his voice, the way he was looking at you—it brought back memories you’d tried so hard to bury, memories of being yelled at, of feeling small and helpless.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your breath quickening as you tried to stay calm, but it was no use. The fear was too overwhelming. Your hands began to shake, and you instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself, as if that could protect you from the storm raging before you.

“I—I’m sorry,” you stammered, your voice barely audible over the pounding in your ears. You wanted to explain yourself, to make him understand, but the words got stuck in your throat, your mind clouded by panic. You felt the tears building again, but you blinked rapidly, trying to keep them at bay.

Vox took a step back, running both hands through his hair in a gesture of helpless frustration. His shoulders were tense, his entire body wound tight like a spring ready to snap. “You don’t get it, do you?” he muttered, his voice still tinged with anger, though quieter now. “You don’t understand what it’s like to have everyone depending on you, to have the weight of all this on your shoulders.”

You wanted to reach out to him, to tell him that you did understand, that you saw how hard he was working. But the fear kept you frozen in place, your voice locked in your throat. You could feel the tears start to spill over, running down your cheeks in silent streams. You quickly wiped them away, but the action was too late—Vox had already seen them.

“[Y/N]…” His voice softened immediately, the anger evaporating as he saw the fear and hurt in your eyes. He took a step forward, his hand reaching out as if to comfort you, but you flinched, pulling back instinctively. The movement was small, but it was enough to make him freeze, his hand hovering in the air between you.

“I—I need to go,” you choked out, the words tumbling from your lips before you even fully realized what you were saying. The walls of the apartment felt like they were closing in, the air too thick to breathe. You needed to get out, to put distance between you and the confrontation that was ripping you apart.

Vox’s eyes widened in panic as he saw you begin to retreat. “Wait—[Y/N], please,” he pleaded, taking another step toward you, but you backed away, shaking your head.

“I can’t… I just… I need some space,” you stammered, your voice barely audible as you turned and fled down the hallway. You could hear Vox calling after you, the desperation in his voice breaking your heart even more, but you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t face him—not now.

You stumbled into the bedroom and shut the door behind you, pressing your back against it as if that could keep the world out. Your legs gave out, and you slid down to the floor, burying your face in your hands as sobs wracked your body. The fear, the pain, the overwhelming sense of helplessness—it all came crashing down on you at once, and you couldn’t hold it back anymore.

On the other side of the door, you could hear Vox’s footsteps, slow and hesitant as they approached. He paused outside the door, and for a moment, the only sound was the quiet hum of the apartment, punctuated by your ragged breathing.

“[Y/N]…” Vox’s voice was soft now, filled with regret and sorrow. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. Please, let me in… let’s talk about this.”

You pressed your hands harder against your ears, trying to block out the sound of his voice. You wanted to respond, to tell him that you understood, that you didn’t blame him, but the words wouldn’t come. The fear of confrontation, the fear of being hurt again—it was too much.

When you didn’t answer, Vox let out a heavy sigh, the sound filled with so much pain that it made your heart ache. “I’ll give you space,” he said finally, his voice thick with emotion. “But please… don’t shut me out forever. I love you, [Y/N]. I’m sorry.”

You heard him turn and walk away, his footsteps growing fainter until the apartment was silent once more. You stayed there on the floor for what felt like hours, your body numb, your mind replaying the events over and over again. Eventually, the tears stopped, leaving you feeling hollow and exhausted.

When you finally found the strength to stand, the apartment was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the TV still playing in the living room. You slowly opened the door and stepped out, your eyes scanning the empty space for any sign of Vox.

On the kitchen counter, you found a note written in his familiar handwriting. You picked it up with trembling hands, your heart clenching as you read the words:

“I’m sorry. I’ll give you space. Please, just… come back to me when you’re ready. I love you.”

You clutched the note to your chest, the tears threatening to return as you took a shaky breath. You knew Vox didn’t mean to hurt you, that he was just as lost and overwhelmed as you were. But it didn’t change the fact that he had, and it didn’t make the fear go away.

It would take time—time to heal, time to rebuild the trust that had been shaken. But you hoped that, with that time, the love you shared would be enough to mend the wounds left behind. For now, all you could do was take it one day at a time, holding onto the hope that you and Vox could find your way back to each other.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin demon #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel #isuckatwritingsobenice #vox hazbin hotel #yandere vox x reader #yandere vox #vox the tv demon #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #vox

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kat-thepoet · 3 months ago

Text

Veins of Violet

Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Part 8: COMMITMENT

A/N: HIIII just want to thank everyone who has been showing support and love!!! its appreciated and I hope you guys are liking the story! OK BYEEE⭐️💜💜🩷🩵💛

Previous Chapters ☞ HERE ☜

7.3k words

The smell of pancakes and the sizzling sound of bacon pulled me from sleep, my eyes fluttering open to the soft light filtering through the curtains. The bed beside me was empty, though the imprint of Logan's body was still visible on the sheets. I was naked, the cool air brushing against my skin, and that's when the memories of last night came rushing back, overwhelming my senses.

My heart raced as I lay there, the weight of what had happened settling in. The intensity of our night together, the raw passion we had shared—had it been a mistake? A swirl of doubt crept into my mind. What if I had ruined everything between us? What if he had only wanted me in the heat of the moment, and now that it was over, he would return to his moody, distant self? The thought gnawed at me, making my chest tighten with fear.

But before I could spiral further into my thoughts, Logan walked in, carrying a plate in his hand. The sight of him caught me off guard—he looked different. His usual brooding expression was replaced by something lighter, almost unrecognizable. There was a softness in his eyes, a brightness that made my breath hitch.

"Good morning," he said, his voice warm and chipper, a tone I wasn't used to hearing from him. "How did you sleep?"

I blinked, still processing the change in him. "Good morning. I slept... fine. How did you sleep?" My voice was hesitant, unsure of how to navigate this new version of him as he handed me the plate, neatly arranged with two pieces of bacon and a perfectly golden pancake.

"I slept better than ever," he replied with a smile—an actual smile—that I had never seen on his face before. It was genuine, filled with a contentment that sent a wave of warmth through me.

I studied him for a moment, my heart still beating a little too fast. This was Logan, but different—a side of him I had only glimpsed before. And as I looked into his eyes, all the doubts and fears that had been swirling in my mind began to fade. He wasn't distant, he wasn't moody—he was here, fully present, and there was something in his gaze that told me last night hadn't been just a moment of passion for him. It had meant something more.

I bit my lip, a small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth as I looked down at the plate. "You made me breakfast?" I asked, a bit of surprise in my voice.

"Of course," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand brushing a strand of hair from my face. "After last night... I wanted to make sure you woke up to something good."

His touch was gentle, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made my heart swell. The Logan I knew was still there—the rough, gruff exterior—but now there was something else, something softer and more vulnerable that he was letting me see. And it wasn't just about the sex; it was about him opening up to me in a way he hadn't before.

"I... I was worried," I admitted, my voice barely more than a whisper. "I thought maybe... maybe you'd regret it."

Logan's expression softened even more, his hand still lingering on my cheek. "Regret it? Violet, I've wanted this for a long time. I was just too damn scared to admit it to myself. But after last night... there's no going back. I don't want to go back to pretending I don't feel anything."

His words sent a rush of relief through me, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "I don't want to go back either," I confessed, the last of my fears melting away."Good," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "Because you mean too much to me, Violet. I don't want to lose what we have. I want more."

The sincerity in his eyes, the way he was looking at me—it was everything I hadn't dared to hope for. I smiled, a real smile this time, as I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "I want more too, Logan."

As we pulled back, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us in this moment of quiet understanding. Whatever doubts or fears I had woken up with had disappeared, replaced by a certainty that we were on the same page—moving forward together. Logan gave me another smile, that rare, genuine one that made my heart flutter, and he picked up the fork, offering me the first bite of the pancake. "Here," he said with a grin, "you've got to try this. I make a mean pancake."

I laughed softly, feeling lighter than I had in a long time as I accepted the bite. "I can't wait to see what else you've got up your sleeve, Lo."

He chuckled, his hand resting on my knee as he watched me eat. "Oh, you have no idea, V." And with that, the day began—simple, easy, and filled with a warmth that came from knowing that whatever happened next, we were in this together.

⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎

Today, we decided it was time to go bed shopping. After last night, it was clear that Logan's bed had seen its final days, but instead of just replacing it, I had a different idea. We barely fit in my bed as we slept, and the thought of having more space—of truly sharing a bed that was ours—felt right. So, we decided to buy a bigger bed for my room and move my current bed into Logan's room. It was a practical solution, but it also felt like a step forward in whatever this thing between us was becoming.

I hadn't been to Ikea in ages, and when I suggested it, Logan gave me a curious look, clearly unfamiliar with the place. I couldn't believe it. "I can't believe you've never been to Ikea. Do you not have them in your universe?" I teased as we got into the taxi, the city's hustle and bustle surrounding us.

He chuckled, that low, gravelly sound that always sent a warm shiver through me. "No, we do. I just never had the need to go into one." As he spoke, he draped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. It was such a simple gesture, but it made my heart skip a beat. The Logan I knew was tough, stoic, but these little moments of affection were starting to become more common, and I couldn't help but cherish them.

"Well, you're in for a treat," I said with a grin, leaning into his embrace. "Ikea is... an experience."He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by my enthusiasm. "An experience, huh? Guess I'll have to see what all the fuss is about."

As the taxi wound its way through the streets, I found myself stealing glances at Logan, still trying to wrap my head around the changes between us. The man who had once been so closed off was now sitting beside me, casually holding me close, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was—maybe this was the new normal for us. The thought filled me with a warmth I hadn't expected, a quiet contentment that settled deep in my chest.

When we arrived at Ikea, Logan's eyes widened slightly at the sheer size of the place. "This place is huge," he muttered, his grip on my shoulder tightening just a bit, as if he wasn't quite sure what to expect.

I laughed softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Yeah, it's pretty overwhelming at first, but don't worry—I'll guide you through it. Just stick with me, and you'll be fine."

As we stepped inside, I could see Logan's eyes taking in everything—the rows of furniture, the bright displays, the odd combination of practicality and chaos that defined Ikea. It was all so new to him, and it made me smile, watching him experience it for the first time. There was something almost endearing about the way he tried to act nonchalant, even as I could tell he was secretly intrigued.

"So, what's first?" he asked, glancing down at me with that half-smirk that always made my heart skip a beat.

"First, we need to find the bedroom section," I said, pulling him toward the signs that pointed us in the right direction. "And then, we'll find the perfect bed for us."

"Perfect bed, huh?" Logan echoed, a teasing note in his voice as he followed me through the winding aisles. "Does it come with guarantees? Like, won't break under... certain conditions?"

I felt my cheeks flush at the memory of last night, and I couldn't help but laugh. "Well, maybe we should get one with a sturdier frame this time," I teased back, nudging him with my elbow. "Just in case."

Logan chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Yeah, probably a good idea."

As we made our way through the showroom, I couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. This—shopping for a bed together, teasing each other about last night—felt right. It wasn't just about the bed; it was about us, about building something together, even if it was just a piece of furniture. And as I looked up at Logan, who was now seriously inspecting a bed frame with a thoughtful expression, I realized that I was ready for this, for whatever came next.

We wandered through the maze of showrooms, testing out different beds and debating the merits of each one. But when we finally found the bed, I knew it was perfect. The frame was made of rich, dark wood with a sleek, modern design that fit perfectly with the aesthetic of my room. It had a sturdy build that immediately made me feel more confident that it could handle whatever Logan and I might throw at it.

The size was a significant upgrade too—a queen, much larger than the full-sized bed I had before. It felt right, like it could finally be the kind of bed where Logan and I could stretch out without feeling cramped. I could already picture it in my room, the centerpiece of a space that was evolving, just like our relationship.

"Looks like it's a winner," Logan said, running his hand over the smooth wood of the headboard. His approval brought a smile to my face; it felt like we were making this choice together, as a team.

With the bed frame decided, I turned my attention to the bedding. I couldn't resist picking out a new comforter—a soft, plush pink one that added a touch of warmth and femininity to the room. For the sheets, I went with a set of light blue ones adorned with delicate floral patterns. They were simple yet elegant, the perfect complement to the dark wood of the bed frame.

As we made our way to the checkout, the excitement of our purchase was momentarily overshadowed by a realization—how were we going to get all of this home? The bed frame and mattress were far too large to fit in a taxi, and there was no way we could carry them ourselves. I glanced at Logan, who was eyeing the flat-packed boxes with a slight frown. "I think we might have a problem," I said, biting my lip.

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Yeah, we didn't exactly think this through."

I pulled out my phone and quickly scrolled through my contacts until I found Wade's number. He was always up for a favor, especially if it involved something out of the ordinary. I hit the call button and waited as it rang.

"Hey, Wade," I said when he picked up. "Logan and I are at Ikea, and we kind of... underestimated the size of what we bought. We need a truck. Any chance you could help us out?"

There was a pause on the other end, followed by a laugh. "Ikea, huh? Never pegged you two as the domestic type. But sure, I'm in. I'll bring a rental truck your way. You owe me, though. This is prime time I could be spending doing absolutely nothing."

I couldn't help but smile. "Thanks, Wade. I owe you one."

After I hung up, I turned to Logan, who was watching me with a raised eyebrow. "Wade's on his way with a rental truck," I said, slipping my phone back into my pocket.

Logan grinned, a look of amusement in his eyes. "Never thought I'd be relying on Wade for a furniture move, but here we are."

I laughed, the tension from earlier dissolving into the comfortable banter that had always come so naturally between us. "I think we might be in for some commentary from him when he gets here," I said, already anticipating the jokes Wade would undoubtedly make about us buying a bed together.

Logan shrugged, clearly unbothered. "Let him say what he wants. We'll have our bed, and that's all that matters."

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me at his words. He was right—this was our bed, our space, and nothing else really mattered. We had found something that was perfect for us, and soon, we'd be taking it home to start this next chapter together. We didn't have to wait long before Wade pulled up in the rental truck, parking with a screech that turned heads. He hopped out with that familiar mischievous grin, clearly up to no good.

"Alright, lovebirds! What's the deal? You two finally got busy and broke the bed, huh?" Wade said, eyeing the boxes with a knowing smirk.

Logan's jaw tightened, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Wade, just shut the fuck up and open the door," he growled, though a hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

But Wade was relentless. "Oh, come on, Wolvie! You should be proud—you broke a bed! I bet it was like a scene out of '50 Shades of Wolverine.'" He winked at me. "Vi, need any aftercare? I've got magic hands."

"Wade," I sighed, rolling my eyes, "just open the truck, okay?"

Wade finally relented, though not without more commentary as we loaded the boxes. "Seriously, though, next time, take it easy on the furniture. Or, you know, call me for tips. I'm here to help!"

Logan shook his head, clearly done with Wade's antics. "Get in the truck before I lose my shit," he muttered, pulling me close as we climbed in.

As Wade drove off, still grinning, Logan leaned in and whispered, "Next time, we're taping his mouth shut."

I laughed, leaning into him. "Deal."

And with that, we headed home, Wade's endless jokes fading into the background as I focused on Logan's warmth beside me, feeling content in this new chapter together.

When we got home, I decided to make things easier by using my telekinesis to help the boys bring the furniture into the apartment. The boxes floated effortlessly through the air, guided by my hands, while Logan and Wade looked on—Wade, of course, with a mix of amusement and awe.

"Show off," Wade teased, though I could tell he was grateful not to have to carry anything heavy.

Once everything was inside, Wade headed out to return the truck to one of his buddies, leaving Logan and me alone in the apartment. We exchanged a glance, a shared sense of accomplishment as we looked at the neatly stacked boxes.

"Ready to build a bed?" I asked, grinning at Logan.

"Let's do it," he replied with a smirk.

We got to work, unpacking the bed frame and setting up the pieces in my room. It was a surprisingly smooth process, considering how easily we'd gotten distracted the last time we were in here. While Logan focused on assembling the frame, I slipped out to throw the new sheets into the wash, humming to myself as I imagined how everything would come together. By the time I returned, Logan had already made good progress. I jumped in to help, and soon enough, the frame was complete. We unboxed the mattress, letting it expand in the middle of the room while the sheets finished washing. It was all coming together, a tangible symbol of the new phase in our relationship.

As we stood back to admire our handiwork, I felt a sense of satisfaction settle over me. We had done this together, built something that was ours. And as simple as it might seem, it felt like a big step forward.

Logan caught my eye, a small smile playing on his lips. "Looks good," he said, his voice warm."Yeah," I agreed, smiling back. "It really does."

For lunch, we decided to do something a little different—a picnic. I guess you could call it our first date, though it was low-key enough that I wasn't entirely sure if it counted. Still, the idea of spending time with Logan, just the two of us, felt right.

I packed a simple meal: sandwiches, some fruit, water, and a few snacks. We left the apartment and strolled to the park just a block away. The weather was perfect—sunny with a slight breeze that cooled the air around us, making it one of those days where everything seemed just a little brighter.

When we arrived at the park, it was fairly quiet, with only a few people scattered around. We found a nice spot under a large tree, away from everyone else, where the shade provided a cool retreat from the sun. Logan spread out the blanket on the grass, smoothing it down before gesturing for me to sit.

As we settled down, I couldn't help but take a moment to appreciate the simplicity of it all. It wasn't extravagant, it wasn't planned down to the last detail—it was just us, enjoying each other's company in a way that felt so natural.

"This is nice," Logan said, leaning back on his hands and glancing around the park."Yeah," I agreed, pulling out the food. "It really is."

We ate in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying the peaceful surroundings. The breeze rustled the leaves above us, casting dappled shadows on the blanket, and the sun warmed our skin just enough to be soothing.

As I sat there, eating next to Logan and enjoying the peaceful moment, a thought crept into my mind. We'd been spending so much time together lately, getting closer in ways I hadn't anticipated, but there was still so much we hadn't talked about—things that felt important. We'd never really delved into the serious stuff, like where he came from and how his life here was different from the one he'd known before.

As I chewed on my sandwich, my thoughts began to drift to those unspoken topics, wondering what his life had been like before he ended up in this world. But then, as if my mind was pulling up the memories on cue, Wade's voice crept in, reminding me of a conversation we'd had not too long ago.

It had been one of those moments when Wade was more serious than usual, a rare occurrence that made me pay attention. He'd mentioned Jean—a name that held weight in Logan's past, a name that was always spoken with a mix of reverence and regret. Wade had told me a little about her, enough to make me understand that she was someone who had meant a great deal to Logan, someone who had left a deep scar.

I hadn't pressed Logan about Jean, sensing that it was a wound still too raw to poke at. But now, sitting beside him in this quiet park, I couldn't help but wonder how much of his past was still affecting him, still holding him back from fully embracing whatever it was we were building together.

Did he think about her often? Did he compare me to her? The thoughts were unsettling, making me feel a mix of curiosity and uncertainty. Part of me wanted to ask, to open up that line of conversation and finally get the answers to the questions that had been lingering in the back of my mind. But another part of me hesitated, unsure if now was the right time—or if I was ready to hear what he might say.

Logan looked over at me, clearly trying to get my attention, but I was too lost in my thoughts to notice. The memories of what Wade had told me about Jean swirled in my mind, making it hard to focus on anything else. I could feel the weight of her name, the impact she must have had on Logan, and it gnawed at me in a way I hadn't expected.

Without fully realizing it, I found myself blurting out, "Who's Jean?"The question hung in the air between us, heavy and unplanned. Logan's relaxed demeanor shifted immediately, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied me, the muscles in his jaw tightening.

"How do you know about her?" he asked, his voice low, laced with a mix of caution and surprise.

I hesitated, realizing that I had just stumbled into territory I wasn't sure I was ready to navigate. But there was no turning back now. I took a deep breath and decided to be honest.

"The first night you spent at my apartment... when you stabbed me— you were having that nightmare—I woke you up because you were yelling her name."

Logan's expression darkened, and for a moment, I regretted bringing it up. His eyes, which had been soft and warm just minutes ago, were now clouded with a storm of emotions. He looked away, staring off into the distance as if trying to collect his thoughts, or maybe just trying to escape from them. I waited, unsure of what to say, unsure if I should have even asked. But I couldn't take it back now. I could only hope that he would trust me enough to open up, to let me in, even if it was just a little.

After what felt like an eternity, Logan finally spoke, his voice rough and tinged with pain. "Jean... she was someone important to me. Someone I cared about. But I couldn't save her. I tried, but... I failed."He paused, his fists clenching and unclenching as if he was grappling with memories too painful to fully confront.

"I think about her every day. About what I could have done differently, about how things might have been if I'd been stronger, better. It's something that never really goes away."

I felt a pang of sadness for him, understanding now that the scars he carried weren't just physical—they ran much deeper, rooted in a loss that still haunted him.

"Logan, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"No," he interrupted, his gaze shifting back to me, softer now, but still guarded.

"It's okay. You deserve to know. I've been trying to move on, to let go of the past, but it's not easy. Jean... she was everything to me, and losing her... it broke something inside me."His words were raw, filled with a vulnerability that I wasn't sure he had ever shown anyone before.

It made my heart ache for him, for the weight he carried alone for so long."I'm not her," I said quietly, not as a statement of fact, but as an acknowledgment of the difference between us, and the space she still occupied in his heart.

Logan shook his head slightly, his eyes meeting mine with a mix of sorrow and something else—something that felt like hope.

"I know you're not. And that's a good thing, Violet. You're you. And that's... more than enough."His words, simple as they were, held a depth of emotion that made me realize how much this moment meant to him.

It wasn't just about Jean—it was about the possibility of healing, of moving forward, and maybe even finding a way to open his heart again. I reached out, placing my hand on his, offering what little comfort I could.

"You don't have to carry it all alone, Logan. I'm here. And whatever you're going through, whatever you need... I'm here." Logan's grip tightened on my hand, his eyes searching mine as if he was trying to find something—maybe reassurance, maybe just a reason to believe that he could finally let go of the past.

"Thank you," he said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Well, now that we talked about me, talk about you. Where you came from and tell me how you met that one guy Strucker." He asked me as he caressed my hand.

I took a deep breath, settling next to him, our hands still intertwined. "My grandparents died when I was 19. I was so mad at everyone because they died just like my parents, in a car crash. It wasn't fair; I felt like I was cursed, and I didn't know what to do. So, I started drinking. I didn't really like it at first, but the burn in my throat was addictive, and the feeling of getting drunk was overwhelming—but not as overwhelming as their death. So I kept drinking and doing nothing but partying."

I took another breath, the memories clearly painful. "I became a regular at this one pub in Oregon. After one night of drinking, I was walking home when I got kidnapped. That was Strucker. He experimented on me, and that's how I got my powers—by touching a gem that was in that scepter I showed you guys yesterday. I was with him for a year, training in hand-to-hand combat, and then I eventually started killing."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I recounted my story to Logan. He placed a comforting hand on my back, rubbing in gentle circles to calm me down.

"They used a machine to control me, and I couldn't do anything about it. I could feel their pain as I killed them, and it still haunts me when I'm alone with my thoughts. You know, I don't need to work, but it's the only thing that keeps my mind busy, or else I spiral. I eventually escaped and moved to a different state," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

"But they found me, so I moved again. And again, and again, and again... until I moved here. I've been here for about seven years now." I paused, taking a deep breath to steady myself. "After I didn't sense them trying to find me anymore, I got a job and an apartment. I tried to build a life, something normal."

I glanced at Logan, his eyes never leaving mine, offering silent support.

"Then I met Wade and Vanessa... and then I met you," I added, my voice softening as I looked into his eyes, feeling a mix of gratitude and vulnerability.

In that moment, he gently cupped my face, his touch warm and comforting. Without a word, he leaned in and pressed his lips softly against mine. It was a tender, reassuring kiss that spoke of unspoken promises. When he pulled back, there was a small, genuine smile on his face.

"I'm never going to let anyone hurt you again. Never," he said, his voice firm but filled with a quiet intensity that made my heart swell.

I looked at him, feeling a deep sense of safety and comfort that I hadn't felt in a long time. Without saying anything, I snuggled up next to him, resting my head against his chest. We sat there in silence, the weight of our shared pasts easing as we simply held each other, finding solace in the quiet connection between us.

As Logan was in the shower, I heard a quick knock at the door—a knock I immediately recognized. Without hesitation, I walked over and opened it, already knowing who would be on the other side.

"Hi, Wade," I greeted him with a smile.

Wade stood there, a rare serious expression on his face, which was unusual enough to catch my attention. "Hey, can we talk?" he asked, his tone more subdued than usual.

"Sure, come in," I said, stepping aside to let him enter.

We moved over to the couch, and as we sat down, I couldn't help but notice the way he was fidgeting, clearly anxious about something. His usual carefree demeanor was replaced with a look of genuine concern, which only made me more curious.

"What is it?" I asked, leaning in slightly, trying to read his expression.

Wade took a deep breath, his eyes meeting mine for a brief moment before he blurted out, "I'm going to propose to Vanessa."

For a second, I just stared at him, processing his words. But then, the realization hit me, and I couldn't contain my excitement. I jumped up from the couch and threw my arms around him in a tight hug. "Oh my God, Wade! I'm so happy for you!"

Wade chuckled, a bit of his usual humor returning as he hugged me back. "You think she'll say yes?" he asked, pulling back slightly to look at me, the vulnerability in his eyes clear.

"Of course she will!" I said, my voice full of certainty. "You're an amazing guy, Wade, and she loves you so much. She's going to be over the moon."

Wade's serious expression softened, a small smile creeping onto his face. "I hope so. I just... I want to make sure I do it right, you know?"

I nodded, still smiling. "You will. Just be yourself, Wade. That's the guy she fell in love with, and that's who she's going to say yes to."

Wade let out a breath he'd been holding, his shoulders relaxing a little. "Thanks, Vi. That means a lot coming from you."

"Anytime," I replied, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "And if you need any help planning, you know I'm here for you."

Wade grinned, some of his usual mischief returning to his eyes. "I might take you up on that. I've got some ideas, but I could use a little... finessing."

We both laughed, the moment of seriousness giving way to the usual easy camaraderie between us. It felt good to be part of something so special, to see Wade genuinely happy and excited about the future. And I knew, without a doubt, that Vanessa was going to be just as thrilled as I was.

Wade's grin widened, that familiar mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "So, how about you come with me tomorrow to pick out the ring?" he suggested, his tone slipping back into its usual witty, playful demeanor. "I could really use a woman's advice. You know, make sure I don't pick out something completely awful."

I laughed, shaking my head at him. "Sure, Wade. I'd love to help. But honestly, I don't think you could mess this up even if you tried."

"Oh, you'd be surprised at my ability to screw things up," he quipped, giving me a mock-serious look before breaking into a smile. "But seriously, I appreciate it, Vi. It means a lot."

"Anything for you, Wade," I replied with a warm smile. "We'll find the perfect ring for Vanessa, I promise."

"Perfect," Wade said, clapping his hands together, clearly pleased. "I'll pick you up bright and early. We've got some serious ring shopping to do."

"Looking forward to it," I said, still smiling as I watched Wade's excitement bubble over.

Wade stood up, giving me one last playful wink before heading for the door. "Alright, I'm off. See you tomorrow, partner in crime."

"See you tomorrow," I called after him, shaking my head fondly as he left.

As the door closed behind him, I couldn't help but feel a warm glow in my chest. Wade was finally going to take that next step with Vanessa, and I was honored to be a part of it. Tomorrow was going to be an exciting day, and I couldn't wait to help him find the perfect ring for the woman he loved.

As Logan stepped out of the shower, I was already in the kitchen, gathering ingredients for dinner. I had decided to try something new—a Mexican dish I found online: enchiladas. The idea of making something different excited me, and I hoped Logan would enjoy it too.

The aroma of spices began to fill the kitchen as I sautéed onions and spices, the sizzle of the pan comforting in its familiarity. I glanced over my shoulder as Logan walked in, his hair still damp from the shower, dressed in his usual casual attire. He walked behind me and put his hands around my waist as he gave me a kiss on my cheek.

"Hey," I greeted him with a smile, stirring the mixture in the pan. "I'm trying my hand at enchiladas tonight. Found the recipe online and thought it might be fun."

Logan leaned closer over my shoulder as he gaze softening as he watched me cook. "Smells good already," he said, his voice a low rumble.

"Let's hope it tastes as good as it smells," I replied with a grin, feeling a little flutter in my chest at the way he was touching me.

As I continued to cook, Logan moved to help, setting the table and pouring us both a drink. It had become a sort of unspoken routine between us—me cooking, him helping with the little things. It was simple, domestic even, but it made me feel grounded, like we were building something together, even if neither of us said it out loud.

By the time the enchiladas were ready, the kitchen was filled with a rich, savory aroma that made my stomach growl in anticipation. I carefully placed the baking dish on the table, serving up portions for both of us.

"Moment of truth," I said with a smile, handing Logan his plate.

He took a bite, chewing thoughtfully before looking up at me with a nod of approval. "You've outdone yourself this time," he said, a rare smile tugging at his lips.

I couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. "Glad you like it. It's nice to try something different."

We ate in comfortable silence, the warmth of the meal and the quiet companionship between us making the evening feel complete. As the night went on, I realized that these moments, simple as they were, had become something I cherished deeply.

The next day arrived, and I was in the middle of getting ready to go to the jewelry store with Wade. As I carefully applied my makeup, I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and disbelief. "Can you believe that Wade and Vanessa are getting married?" I said, my voice carrying the thrill of the moment as I glanced at Logan, who was lounging nearby.

Logan chuckled, his usual laid-back demeanor evident. "We don't even know if she's going to say yes," he replied, a teasing tone in his voice.

I shot him a playful look, pausing with my mascara wand in hand. "Oh, come on. You know she's going to say yes. They're perfect for each other."

Logan's smile softened, and he nodded in agreement. "Yeah, they are," he admitted, his tone more sincere. "Wade's lucky to have her."

"And she's lucky to have him," I added, finishing up my makeup and stepping back to admire my reflection. "I just hope I can help him pick out the perfect ring."

Logan watched me with a thoughtful expression, his eyes following my movements. "You'll do fine. You've got good taste."

I smiled at him through the mirror, feeling a warmth in my chest at his words. "Thanks, Logan. I just want it to be special for them, you know?"

He nodded, his gaze never leaving mine. "I know. And it will be."

With a final touch of lipstick, I turned to face him, my excitement bubbling up again. "Alright, I'm ready. Wish me luck."

"Good luck," Logan said, his voice holding a note of affection that made my heart skip a beat.

I said my goodbye with a kiss on his soft lips and I grabbed my purse and headed out the door, ready to help Wade take the next big step in his relationship with Vanessa.

I knocked on Wade's door, waiting for him to answer. When the door finally swung open, there he was, dressed in casual clothes, but the real kicker was the ridiculous toupee perched on his head, looking like it had been swiped from the clearance bin of a costume shop.

I couldn't help but snort, raising an eyebrow as I took in his appearance. "Nice hair," I said, barely able to keep a straight face.

Wade beamed, running a hand over the toupee like it was the finest wig money could buy. "Thanks! I thought I'd class it up today. You know, gotta look my best when I'm about to drop some serious cash on a rock. The hair really seals the deal, don't you think?"

I laughed, shaking my head in disbelief. "You're something else, Wade. But if that thing scares off the jeweler, you're on your own."

He gave me a mock offended look, clutching his chest. "Oh, ye of little faith! This toupee screams 'man with excellent taste.' Vanessa's going to swoon when she sees the ring I pick with this baby on my head."

"Uh-huh," I replied, still grinning. "Ready to go find that ring, Mr. Sophisticated?"

"Born ready," Wade shot back, giving me a conspiratorial wink. "Let's go make Vanessa the happiest woman alive—and let's face it, she already is, but this is just the cherry on top of the Wade sundae."

I rolled my eyes, laughing as he linked his arm through mine. "You're such an idiot."

"And that's why you keep me around!" Wade declared, puffing out his chest as we headed down the hallway. "Now, let's get to that jewelry store before this toupee takes on a life of its own."

We arrived at the jewelry store, the bell above the door chiming softly as we stepped inside. The place was gleaming with all sorts of shiny, expensive things—rows upon rows of sparkling rings, necklaces, and earrings displayed under the bright lights. Wade immediately gravitated toward the rings, his eyes scanning the cases with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

"Alright, where's the ring that says 'I'm the luckiest guy in the world and you'd be crazy to say no'?" Wade muttered to himself as he leaned over one of the cases, his brow furrowed in concentration.

I couldn't help but chuckle as I followed him. "You've got this, Wade. Just find something that screams 'Vanessa.'"

Wade nodded, but he was clearly feeling the pressure. His eyes darted from one ring to the next, his usual confidence wavering for a moment. "What if I pick the wrong one? What if she doesn't like it? What if she takes one look at it and thinks, 'Wow, Wade's lost his touch'?"

I placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You know her better than anyone. Trust your gut—and maybe that little voice in your head that's always telling you to be just a tad less ridiculous."Wade flashed a quick grin, the tension easing slightly. "Yeah, you're right. Less ridiculous... for a few minutes, at least."

We continued browsing, with Wade picking up rings and then putting them back down just as quickly, muttering things like, "Too sparkly," "Not sparkly enough," and "Is this thing made of tinfoil?" under his breath.

Finally, his eyes landed on a ring—a simple but elegant design with a single, dazzling diamond in the center, flanked by smaller stones that caught the light beautifully. He paused, staring at it for a long moment, and I could see something click in his expression.

"This one," he said quietly, almost to himself. "This is it. It's perfect."

I looked at the ring and then back at Wade, who was surprisingly serious for once. "It's beautiful, Wade. I think Vanessa's going to love it."

He nodded, a small, genuine smile creeping onto his face. "Yeah... yeah, I think so too."

As we walked back to Wade's apartment, the ring safely tucked away in a little velvet box, I could feel a sense of excitement bubbling up between us. Wade was practically buzzing with nervous energy, and I was thrilled to be a part of this moment for him and Vanessa. The conversation flowed easily, mostly about how Wade was going to propose and all the ridiculous scenarios he'd imagined in his head.

But as we turned the corner, I hesitated, my thoughts drifting to the conversation I had with Logan recently. It was something I hadn't told anyone yet, but it felt right to share it with Wade now, especially since we were talking about serious things.

"Wade," I started, glancing over at him as we walked, "there's something I need to tell you."

He looked at me, curiosity piqued. "Uh-oh, this sounds serious. Did you finally break down and tell Logan that you think his hair's better when it's all wild and Wolverine-y?"

I couldn't help but laugh at that. "No, not that. But... I did talk to him about Jean."

Wade's playful expression shifted to something more thoughtful. "Oh... Jean. Ballsy.""Yeah," I nodded, my tone softening. "He opened up about her, about what happened. It was... intense. I think it's why he's been so distant, you know? He's carrying a lot of guilt over it."

Wade sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, that's Logan for you. The guy's got enough guilt to fill a library, and he's always trying to handle it on his own. But you got him to talk about it? That's big."

"I know," I said quietly. "He's been through so much, and I just wanted him to know that he doesn't have to go through it alone. I think it helped... a little."

Wade gave me a sideways glance, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. "You're good for him, you know that? The grumpy old wolf needs someone like you to keep him from going off the deep end."

I smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through me at Wade's words. "I'm just trying to be there for him, like he's been there for me."

Wade nodded, his tone becoming more serious. "Yeah, well, just don't let him push you away too much. Logan's got this bad habit of thinking he's gotta do everything on his own, but we both know that's a load of crap. Keep poking at him, and eventually, he'll get it through that thick skull of his."

I chuckled at that. "I'll do my best, Wade."

As we reached his apartment building, Wade stopped and turned to me, his expression sincere.

"Thanks for telling me, Vi. And for, you know, looking out for him."

"Of course," I said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. "We're all in this together, right?"

Wade grinned, the playful glint returning to his eyes. "Damn right. Now let's get back inside before Logan realizes we've been talking about him and goes all 'brooding hero' on us."

I laughed at his remark, but then a thought suddenly struck me. "Wait, when are you going to propose to Vanessa?" I asked, turning to face him.

Wade flashed a grin, looking almost too pleased with himself. "Tonight," he said, his voice full of excitement.

"Tonight?" I echoed, feeling a mix of surprise and anticipation. "Do you have everything planned? What exactly are you planning to do?"

Wade wiggled his eyebrows mischievously. "Oh, I've got it all planned out. Trust me, it's going to be epic. Picture this: a romantic dinner, candles, roses, the works. And then, just when she thinks it's all just a nice evening, bam—I drop to one knee, whip out the ring, and hit her with the most charming proposal this side of a rom-com."

I couldn't help but smile at the thought. "Wow, Wade, that actually sounds... really sweet."

He gave a dramatic bow. "Why, thank you. I like to keep people on their toes, you know? Can't be all jokes and explosions all the time. Gotta throw in some romance to keep things interesting."I laughed again, shaking my head at him. "Well, I'm sure she's going to love it. Just make sure you don't trip over your own feet when you're down on one knee."

Wade placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. "Please, cupcake, I'm as graceful as a swan. A swan with a couple of swords and a very big mouth."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "Well, good luck, Wade. I'm really happy for you two." "Thanks, Vi," he said, his grin softening into something more genuine. "It means a lot. And don't worry—I'll make sure this is a night Vanessa will never forget."

I laughed as I waved to him while I walked to my door, feeling a sense of contentment wash over me.

Part 9: Unexpected coincidence

#deadpool and wolverine #fanfic #wolverine #logan howlett #x men #deadpool #marvel #wade wilson #hugh jackman #logan howlett x reader #tumblr fyp

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