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pandapetals · 18 days ago

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Gift Wrapped

A RETROSABERS X PANDAPETALS DOUBLE FEATURE

Logan got you a special gift this Christmas...himself.

logan howlett x fem!gf reader - established relationship, christmas vibes, no reader description, no y/n used, steamy, implied smut, fluff, teasing banter, sweetheart/darling/gorgeous pet names, i imagined origins logan, kissing, fingering, orgasm withholding, slight praising, good girl used once, begging

a/n: collab with the amazing @retrosabers, thank you so much for asking me to do this. check out their post. it's way better than mine tbh. the theme is “unwrapping”. why not unwrap logan since he wasn't under my tree.

divider credit: @bernardsbendystraws

“Are your eyes closed, sweetheart?” Logan’s voice was low and a little shaky, the kind of tone that made you both suspicious and intrigued. You sat cross-legged on the sofa, the warmth of the fireplace curling through the air, the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights flickering red and gold behind your closed lids.

“Yes,” you said, drawing out the word with mock caution. “Though I’m starting to think I should be worried. What did you do?” A teasing laugh slipped from your lips, the kind of laugh that had gotten Logan into trouble—and out of it—more times than he could count.

Logan exhaled, rolling his eyes even though you couldn’t see him. He raked a hand through his messy hair, the sound of crinkling wrapping paper accompanying his nervous shuffle. His bare feet padded softly against the wooden floor as he exited the bedroom. “What am I doing?” he muttered under his breath. His plan had seemed funny—brilliant, even—when it had first popped into his head. Now, standing half-naked in the living room, most of his body swaddled in sloppily taped wrapping paper, he wasn’t so sure.

“Well?” you prompted, your fingers drumming lightly against your knees. The slight quiver in your voice wasn’t exactly fear, but curiosity laced with a hint of concern. “Logan? Why are you so quiet? You’re starting to freak me out.”

Logan paused mid-step, the flush creeping up his neck to his cheeks. He was suddenly very aware of how ridiculous he looked—strips of shiny red wrapping paper crisscrossed over his chest, held together by haphazard loops of tape, his plaid boxers peeking out from underneath like the world’s laziest Christmas outfit. His abs were more on display than he’d planned, and let’s not even get started on the oversized gold bow stuck to his hip.

“Okay, uh...maybe this was a bad idea,” Logan mumbled, taking a half-step back toward the bedroom. He tugged at the edge of the paper, wincing as it tore slightly. “You know what, forget it. I—”

“Logan,” you interrupted your tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. “What are you doing? You sound...weird.”

He froze. His heart thudded in his chest as you cracked one eye open, just a sliver at first, and then both flew wide. You were silent for a moment, your mouth slightly ajar as your gaze swept over him, taking in the sight of your six-foot-tall boyfriend wrapped like a naughty Christmas present.

“...Oh my god,” you whispered, your voice catching on a laugh you couldn’t hold back. Your hands flew to your mouth as your eyes sparkled, flickering between disbelief and glee. “Logan, what—what are you—” You broke off into full-blown laughter, clutching your stomach as you tried to catch your breath.

Logan groaned, his cheeks burning hotter than the fireplace behind you. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he muttered, crossing his arms—or trying to as the stiff wrapping paper crinkled and refused to cooperate. “This is the last time I try to be creative.”

You wiped a tear from your eye, the laughter dying into soft giggles. “No, no, stop, it’s just—oh my god, Logan, are you...wrapped in wrapping paper?”

“Obviously.” He arched a brow, his lips twitching like he wanted to be annoyed but couldn’t quite manage it. “You said you wanted a surprise, so...ta-da. Surprise.”

You tilted your head, your laughter fading as you let your gaze linger on him. The glow of the tree lights danced across his skin, catching on the sharp lines of his jaw and the faint flush dusting his chest. You bit your lip, a slow grin spreading across your face. “You know,” you said, your voice taking on a sultry edge, “this is probably the best gift I’ve ever gotten. Hands down.”

Logan perked up, his confidence flickering back to life as he caught the gleam in your eye. “Yeah?” He smirked, taking a step closer, his voice dropping an octave. “You like what you see, gorgeous?”

You leaned back against the sofa, your lips curling playfully as your gaze wandered over him again, lingering just enough to make his pulse spike. “Well,” you said thoughtfully, tapping a finger against your chin, “the bow’s a little crooked. And the tape job? Honestly, it’s a mess.”

Logan rolled his eyes but couldn’t hold back his laugh. “Really? That’s your takeaway?”

“But,” you continued, your tone softening as you met his eyes, “it’s still...pretty perfect.”

Logan grinned, stepping closer until he stood right before you, his knees brushing yours. “Damn right, it is.” He leaned down, his voice dropping to a murmur as he added, “But I think the best part is unwrapping me. Don’t you?”

You felt your cheeks heat, your breath hitching slightly as his hand brushed your knee, the heat of his skin seeping through your flannel pajamas. “I don’t know,” you teased, your voice dipping low. “I might just keep you wrapped up like this. You’d make a great centerpiece.”

Logan chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned in closer, his lips grazing your ear. “Good luck with that,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “Because this gift has plans, darlin’. And they don’t involve staying wrapped.”

Your pulse quickened, a shiver rolling down your spine as his fingers trailed lightly over your knee. “Oh yeah?” you murmured, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “Guess we’ll see who’s really in charge of this gift, won’t we?”

Logan’s smirk widened, his eyes darkening with challenge. “I guess we will,” he said, his lips brushing yours as his hand slipped to your waist.

You tugged him closer to you, the paper giving away a bit with a satisfying rip that echoed through the cozy living room. Logan froze for a second, his eyes widening in mock horror as he glanced at the ruined wrapping. “Oh no,” he deadpanned, his lips twitching. “You’ve destroyed my masterpiece.”

You grinned up at him, your teeth catching your bottom lip as your fingers brushed the newly exposed skin at his hip. His gaze darkened as he leaned in, his hands tightening on your waist as his lips finally claimed yours. The kiss was soft before you slid your fingers through his hair deepening it.

Logan’s fingers slid under your flannel top, brushing over the bare skin of your waist, and you gasped against his mouth as warmth bloomed in your chest—and core.

“Hmm,” you murmured, tilting your head as though inspecting a piece of art. “You know, Logan, I think you’re right. The wrapping paper is kind of in the way.” Your hands slid to his chest, fingers grazing the exposed skin there, and you grinned as you added, “I think it’s time to finish unwrapping my present.”

Logan let out a low laugh, his hands tightening on your hips as he pulled you closer, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth. “Don’t let me stop you, darlin’. But just so you know...” His teeth grazed your earlobe.“Once you’re done unwrapping, I’m going to make sure you know exactly how good of a gift I am.”

Your cheeks burned, heat pooling in every inch of your body as his words sank in. The tension between you crackled like the lights on the tree. The rest of the world faded away—the cozy living room, the fireplace, the half-empty mugs of cocoa on the table. All that mattered was Logan, his hands on you, his lips teasing yours, and the delicious anticipation thrumming between you like a pulse.

You leaned in close, your breath warm against his ear, your smile curling into something wicked. “Merry Christmas to me, indeed,” you whispered, your voice low and teasing.

Logan barely had time to smirk before the last shred of wrapping paper hit the floor, pooling around his feet in a heap of crumpled red and gold. Now there was nothing left between you but the glow of the tree lights and the thin barrier of his plaid boxers, clinging low on his hips.

His hand slid to your waist, tugging you forward with an easy, practiced confidence. “Well,” he drawled, his voice rich and dripping with amusement, “I’d say this makes me the best damn gift you’ve ever unwrapped.” His grin turned devilish as his fingers teased the edge of your pajama top. “And if I’m wrong… you’re going to have a hell of a time convincing me otherwise.”

You laughed, the sound vibrating through the small living room. “Oh, don’t worry. I have no complaints so far,” you teased, trailing a finger lightly down the hard plane of his chest, the heat of his skin seeping into your touch. “But I am starting to wonder how much more unwrapping there is to do…”

Logan arched a brow, the glint in his eye a perfect match for your mischievous grin. “Careful, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice dipping to a near growl. “You might end up on Santa’s naughty list for saying things like that.”

Your laughter turned breathy as he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was slow at first—just enough to tease, to make you ache for more. But before you could lose yourself completely, he pulled back, his gaze locking with yours as his hands slid to your waist. With a single, fluid motion, he guided you back against the couch, the plush cushions cradling you as he followed, his body hovering just above yours.

“You’re not getting away that easily,” you murmured, catching his wrist before he could settle his weight. Your fingers curled around his forearm as you shifted beneath him, pulling him closer until the heat of his skin pressed firmly against you. “If you’re the gift, Logan, I intend to enjoy every second of unwrapping you.”

He let out a low laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest as he braced himself above you. “Oh, I’m counting on it,” he said, his voice rough with promise. Then, his lips were on yours again, harder this time, deeper, the kiss unraveling the last threads of restraint between you.

You sighed into him, your fingers sliding up to tangle in his hair, the soft strands curling around your touch as his hands skimmed over your sides. The flannel fabric of your pajama shirt bunched under his palms as he tugged at the hem, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His lips broke from yours, only to find the sensitive skin of your neck, and you let your head fall back, giving him better access as he trailed slow, deliberate kisses down the column of your throat.

“Logan,” you murmured, your voice hitching slightly when his teeth grazed your pulse point. He hummed against your skin in response, the sound vibrating through you and setting your nerves alight.

Your hands moved instinctively, tugging at the hem of your shirt, but Logan beat you to it, his fingers sliding underneath the fabric to help you peel it off. The cool air hit your skin for only a moment before his mouth returned, warm and demanding, as he kissed his way across your collarbone. His hands followed, mapping every curve, every line as if he couldn’t get enough of touching you.

“Hmm,” Logan murmured against your skin, his lips brushing just below your ear, sending a delicious shiver racing down your spine. “I have to say, sweetheart…” His voice was low, teasing, but there was a raw edge to it now, a hunger that made your stomach tighten. “You look better out of flannel than in it.”

A soft laugh escaped you as your fingers drifted over the taut muscles of Logan’s back. His skin was warm beneath your touch, flexing ever so slightly under your fingertips as he pressed his body firmly against yours. The heat between you was electric, crackling like the embers in the fireplace, and it only intensified when his lips found their way lower, tracing a slow, deliberate path down your chest.

Your breathing hitched as he paused just above the waistband of your flannel pants, his mouth hovering, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin. His warm and steady hands rested on either side of your hips, his thumbs teasing light, maddening circles against your skin.

“Logan…” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but its plea was unmistakable. You tilted your head against the cushions, your eyes fluttering closed as a soft whimper escaped your lips. “Please. Keep going.”

That was all it took. Logan let out a low, gravelly moan that sent a shiver racing through you. His lips curled into a smirk against your skin, and you felt the vibration of his chuckle as he murmured, “You’re so pretty when you beg.”

The words sent a flush of heat through you, and when you opened your eyes, his gaze was locked on yours, dark and hooded. Slowly, deliberately, he dragged his teeth lightly over the sensitive skin just above the waistband of your pants, making your whole body tense in response.

Your breath caught as his fingers dipped beneath the fabric, his touch teasing and confident. He moved with purpose, and in one smooth motion, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband and slid the flannel down, baring you to him inch by excruciating inch. The fabric pooled at your ankles, forgotten, as his eyes raked over you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his voice husky and filled with reverence, as though the sight of you left him completely undone. His hands trailed back up your thighs, the roughness of his palms a delicious contrast to the softness of your skin, and you arched into his touch, your body instinctively seeking more.

The room felt smaller now, the glow of the Christmas tree casting a warm, intimate light over the two of you. Logan leaned forward, his lips brushing your knee, then your thigh, his kisses slow and deliberate, each one igniting a new spark of heat beneath your skin. He was taking his time, savoring you.

“I need you,” you breathed, your voice trembling as you threaded your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly. He looked up at you through his lashes, his expression equal parts mischief and raw hunger. “Please…”

He smirked, his hands tightening slightly on your thighs as he murmured, “Patience, gorgeous. Good things come to those who wait.” But his teasing tone was betrayed by the way his breath was coming faster now, his self-control fraying at the edges.

Logan’s lips traveled lower, leaving a trail of heat across your skin as he pressed slow, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, then down to the swell of your chest. Each touch of his lips sent tiny shockwaves rippling through you, your breaths coming in shallow, uneven bursts. His hands followed the curve of your body, rough yet deliberate, their slow descent sparking a fire that bloomed deep in your core.

When his hand slipped between your thighs, your whole body tensed, your breath catching in your throat. His palm was warm, and steady, as it rested there for a teasing moment, his thumb tracing lazy circles over the sensitive skin, just enough to make you squirm beneath him.

The vibration sent shivers skittering through you. Your fingers curled into the muscles of his shoulders as his lips moved again, dipping lower and brushing just above where your nipple was. His kisses were unhurried and deliberate, as though he were memorizing your shape and taste.

And then, finally, his fingers moved. A gasp slipped from you as he began to explore, his touch achingly slow, maddeningly gentle. He stroked through your folds with deliberate precision, testing, teasing, his movements guided by the quiet, involuntary sounds spilling from your lips. You could feel the smile forming against your skin as he paused, his breath hot and uneven as it fanned over your chest.

“You’re already so ready for me,” he murmured, his voice husky, the rough edge of his words sending another jolt of heat racing through you. His fingers worked in rhythm now, the pressure of his touch steadily building, coaxing soft, breathy whimpers from your throat.

You arched against him, your hands tangling in his hair, tugging lightly in a way that made him groan against your skin. “Logan…it feels so good,” you breathed, your voice trembling, your body aching for more.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark, half-lidded gaze locking with yours. The intensity in his eyes left you breathless, your heart thundering in your chest. “I love the way you say my name like that,” he murmured, his lips curving into a wicked grin. “Like you can’t help yourself.”

You shivered under his touch, his words unraveling something deep inside you, and you met his gaze with your own, your lips parting to reply—but then his fingers dipped just right, stealing the breath from your lungs and leaving you gasping instead.

Logan chuckled softly, the sound low and indulgent as he leaned in to press his lips against yours. The kiss was slow at first, teasing, a perfect match for the rhythm of his touch, but it quickly deepened as the tension between you snapped like a taut wire. He kissed you like he wanted to consume you, to devour every inch of you, and you found yourself clinging to him, your fingers sliding from his hair to the firm muscles of his back as he pressed closer.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough, almost reverent. “You’re driving me crazy.”

His fingers moved again, coaxing another broken whimper from your throat, and his mouth found its way back to your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there in a way that made your whole body arch into him. The heat between you was nearly unbearable now, a steady hum of desire that blurred the edges of the world around you, leaving only the two of you tangled together, breathless and wanting.

And then Logan paused, his lips brushing your ear, his breath warm and heavy as he whispered, “Tell me what you want.” His voice was teasing, almost smug, but there was an edge of need beneath it, a rawness that mirrored the ache building in your chest.

Your lips parted, and when you spoke, your voice trembled, soft but sure. “You, Logan. I just want you.”

His growl rumbled low in his chest, the sound alone sending a thrill spiraling through you. A delicious shiver coursed down your spine as Logan’s mouth claimed yours again, his kiss demanding and possessive, as though he couldn’t get enough. The weight of his body pressed you into the cushions even as his touch had you floating somewhere far beyond reason.

“Hold it,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and edged with a command that made your pulse stutter. His fingers didn’t stop their maddening rhythm between your thighs, every slow, deliberate stroke sending heat pooling low in your belly. His breath was hot, uneven as it brushed your cheek, but his control over you—and himself—was unnervingly steady. “Not yet. Don’t you dare cum until I say.”

You barely managed a breathless laugh, your head tipping back as his lips left yours to trail down your jaw, the scrape of his teeth against your skin making your whole body tense beneath him. “I thought you were my gift,” you managed to say, your voice breaking on a soft moan as he worked his fingers with excruciating precision. “Shouldn’t I have control over when I get to…”

Logan paused for a fraction of a second as the words died in your throat. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His dark eyes were burning with hunger and amusement, and the corner of his mouth curled into a smirk. “Oh, sweetheart,” he drawled, his voice deep and slow. “You do have control… but only if I give it to you.”

The words sent a rush of heat cascading through you, leaving you trembling in his arms. His lips dipped lower, brushing the curve of your throat, and he chuckled softly when your breath hitched. “But if you want me to stop,” he murmured, his voice a teasing whisper as his fingers slowed their pace, barely brushing over your most sensitive spot, “just say the word.”

“Logan…” you gasped, your nails digging lightly into his shoulders as your hips shifted instinctively beneath him, desperate for more. You felt his grin against your skin, wicked and far too self-satisfied, and it only made you want to wipe it off his face—or make him lose that careful control he clung to so tightly.

“You’re so responsive,” he murmured as his lips grazed the hollow of your throat. “Every little sound you make, every little shiver…” His fingers pressed just right, and your soft cry was answer enough to him. “It’s like your body was made for me.”

The tension in your body built higher and higher, every nerve alight, your skin hypersensitive to every small movement of his hand, every press of his lips. You could feel the ache growing, the edge creeping closer, and your breaths came faster, sharper, as the coil inside you tightened to the breaking point.

“Logan, I can’t—” Your voice broke, your hands sliding from his shoulders to his hair, gripping tight as you struggled to hold back. He lifted his head, his expression dark and heated as he watched you come undone beneath him.

“Yes, you can,” he said softly, his voice like velvet, soothing and commanding all at once. His lips brushed your ear, his breath warm and teasing as he added, “You’re going to hold it for me, sweetheart. You’re going to let me take you exactly where I want you to go.”

A frustrated whimper escaped you, your back arching beneath him, and his low chuckle made your skin flush even hotter. He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, a touch so gentle it was almost infuriating, and whispered, “Because when I finally let you, it’s going to feel so damn good, you won’t even remember your name.”

You trembled beneath him, his words unraveling what little control you had left. The tension between you was electric, the air thick with heat and want, and you could do nothing but hold on to him, your breaths coming in shallow, ragged bursts as his touch pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

“Logan, please,” you gasped, your voice breaking on his name, your body trembling with the effort of restraint.

He smiled against your skin, his lips brushing just below your ear. “Good girl,” he murmured, his tone dripping with praise, his touch steady and relentless. “Just a little longer.”

Every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire, the ache between your thighs growing unbearable as he teased you with maddening precision. You didn’t know how much longer you could hold on, but you trusted him and surrendered completely to the intoxicating rhythm he set.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take another second, just when you were about to beg again, his fingers slowed, his lips brushing yours in a kiss so soft that it left you breathless.

“Now,” he whispered against your lips, his voice low and rough, his fingers pressing just right. “Let go for me, sweetheart.”

The world blurred as his words shattered the last of your restraint, your body unraveling beneath him in a rush of heat and pleasure so intense it left you gasping. Logan held you through it, his hand never faltering, his lips peppering soft kisses across your skin as you rode out every wave, your body trembling in his arms.

When the storm finally began to subside, you melted into him, boneless and dazed, your breaths coming in soft, uneven gasps. Logan’s hands moved gently now, smoothing over your thighs and waist as though grounding you, his touch still laced with reverence and care.

“Merry Christmas to me,” he murmured with a satisfied grin, his lips brushing your temple.

You let out a breathless laugh, your fingers sliding into his hair as you pulled him into a slow, lingering kiss. “You’re so full of yourself,” you teased, your voice soft and playful despite your exhaustion.

Logan smirked, his hands tightening gently on your hips as he leaned down to murmur against your lips, “Can you blame me, sweetheart? You look at me like I’m the only thing that matters.”

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allllium · 1 month ago

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Destructive

Vampire!Jason x Reader

~ Mostly fluff, Jason is very stubborn, WC: 1,083

You sit in silence on the couch, the opposite end of Jason instead of by his side like usual.

Neither of you have talked in at least an hour.

You can clearly see he's in pain but until he finally admits how he feels, there's nothing you're gonna do about it.

According to all the books and movies about vampires they're supposed to be scary but all you've seen is how childish they act when they're hungry.

There's a quiet chatter coming from the show on the TV, the one neither of you are paying any attention to.

"You're literally starving to death, is now really the best time to be so stubborn?" You break the silence.

"I have no idea what you mean." He crosses his arms over his chest and turns to focus on the TV.

You stare blankly at him.

"You are aware you just completely proved my point, right?"

"No." He mumbles under his breath.

"No? Will you please look at me while I'm lecturing you."

With an overly dramatic groan he looks in your direction.

"I said I'm fine."

"Okay? Am I supposed to believe you?"

"I mean I was hoping you would." You keep staring at him with a blank face, fighting a small urge to smile at the whiny tone in his voice.

"Maybe try that again when you're not dying."

"I'm not dying." You roll your eyes immediately.

"Ohh okay I must have misunderstood earlier when you said you haven't had any blood in a week."

"Clearly."

"So if I decided I wanted to sit closer to you that wouldn't affect you at all." You stand and go towards the side of the couch he's sitting on.

"No, not at all." He clears his throat as you sit right next to him, arms and legs resting against his.

"This is good then right? No urge to bite me or anything?" You lean your head on his shoulder to further prove your point. You feel him try to lean away from you but the arm of the couch stops him.

"Do you have a death wish?" He exclaims and jumps from the couch.

"There's no danger if you're not starving, huh Jason!" You jump up right beside him.

"You are not seriously having fun right now!" He yells, noting the smile on your face

You quickly bite your inner lip to cease your smile. "No I would never."

"I am dying and you think this is funny." He fakes offence, a familiar smile making an appearance.

"Oh so you finally admit it."

"Yes but it doesn't change anything." He starts walking to the kitchen.

"It changes everything!" You raise your voice so he can hear you from the next room. "As I said I'm always right!"

"Wrong!"

You follow him into the kitchen. "What are you doing?"

"Getting away from you." He half jokes.

"What's more dangerous, Jason? Drinking some of my blood to stop you from starving? Or not drinking anything and losing control which could end up with me dead?" You ask casually and lean against the doorway to the kitchen.

"That's exactly why I try to stop this from happening."

"I know honey. But this is reality and you can't just hide something until it goes away."

You walk closer to him until you can hold his hands in yours.

"I know you get scared but the more you try to deny it, the more dangerous it'll be."

"The only thing worse than losing you is hurting you."

"Well good thing neither or those things are going to happen. I trust you Jay, why don't you trust yourself?"

"Stop being so logical." He whispers and pulls you into a soft hug. "It's making it harder to be so stubborn."

"I don't want to lose you just as much as you don't want to lose me."

"That's hard to believe."

"Too bad." You laugh and feel his breathless chuckle against you. "Please don't keep starving."

"Okay." He nods against you, "That sounds like a good plan."

"Great so how are we gonna fix this?" You pull back so you're face to face.

"Steal some blood from a hospital."

"No, Jason-"

"Find a random person on the street."

"Jason-"

"The black market."

"What the fuck." You put your face in your hands.

"I'm sure I can think of a few others."

"I thought we just discussed this."

"No."

"Jason, stop being stubborn. We're done with this."

"Why are you insisting on this so much?"

"Because I'm sick of you spending weeks feeling terrible because you don't have access to blood. I'm sick of you being so hungry you avoid me." You take a step back.

"I'm sorry."

"I don't need you to be sorry, I just need you to listen to me."

"You're right." You watch him carefully for his next move.

After sitting in silence for a couple minutes you sigh.

"I'm sorry I'm nervous." He finally blurts out.

"Are you having performance anxiety or something?"

"I do not need your bullying right now."

"You're right I'm sorry." You smile widely.

"You don't look sorry."

"Focus."

He pulls you closer to him, close enough that you can feel his breath on your neck. Once again, nothing happens.

"This is getting awkward." You complain. You move your arms to wrap around his neck and he grabs your waist to pull you closer.

He smiles against your neck a split second before he bites you.

He's warned you many times that a vampire bite is very painful but after a small pinch the only noticeable thing is how lightheaded you become. Most likely to keep victims from being able to run.

Time slows as he takes your blood and after a minute or two you lose some balance, but Jason wraps his arm around you to keep you standing.

"Thank you." He says as he pulls away from your neck.

"Anytime." You whisper.

"Are you okay?" He almost panics when he sees you're having trouble keeping balance.

"I'm fine, as long as you don't let go of me or anything."

"Here, sit down." He picks you up and makes you sit on the counter. "I'm gonna make you some dinner."

"I'm alright, give me a minute and I'll be back to normal."

"No, be quiet." He pulls some ingredients out of the fridge.

"I love you." You smile as he cooks for you.

"I know my cooking is good but that's a little extreme."

"Jason!"

"I love you too."

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cheriladycl01 · 1 year ago

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Funny Gaming moments with Lando and Max (F) x QuadrantStreamer! Reader

Plot: Just funny moments where Reader is a member of Quadrant and is a big UK streamer that does everything on Twitch and YouTube.

A/N: this is only small and just for fun, better Lando stuff is coming out.

Moment 1:

"Do you earn more than Lando Norris, chat you guys are wild ... but honestly with my individual sponsors, YouTube and streaming and any of my weird side activities I think it'd be up for debate" you giggle not actually knowing how much difference there was in what you or Lando earned.

"Not girlie casually admitting that with her side hustle she earns as much as an F1 driver, yeah guys, you gotta think I stream and upload full time. So i get paid for each YouTube video I do, I'm a twitch affiliate and you guys are so so generous. I game competitively and earn from that. I have sponsors, so ... lets just say i had no trouble buying Lando's Christmas presents" you grin, knowing the man had widely expensive taste.

"Who am i spending Christmas with, well Lando's family has asked if I'd like to join them, but I'll be spending the holidays mostly with Max and Pietra. Oh my gosh guys, did you see Instagram? I met Martin Garrix! How cool is that!" you laugh.

Moment 2:

"So I'm here today with Lando, and I'm teaching him Valorant, he knows that I'm in good but I don't think he knows I'm Immortal" you say until you unmute yourself in discord.

"Hey Lando baby" you joke but all you get from the otherside is silence which makes your chat go absolutely crazy.

You hear a few coughs that sound like choking, so you check his stream making sure not to tab out on stream, seeing him sat there in shock in his chair blushing.

"Lando?" you ask, and you watch as he rearranges himself in his chair pulling the mic closer to him.

"Hi, hello yes. Sorry you just threw me off guard" he laughs, wiping across his face with his fingers.

"What are we?" he asks, and you burst out laughing at the question which makes him laugh too. Chat on both ends starts going crazy, with the spam of Lando Norizz <<< Y/N the Rizzler and you were both dying.

Moment 3:

"Argghh fuck" you scream leaning back and fulling falling back off your chair. You were currently playing the horror game ' In Silence with Max, Lando and Ria.

"No way did Y/N just fall?" Max asks laughing at the girl whose stream he pulled up seeing her laying on the floor gripping her shoulder while her chair was now also laying in the floor.

"SHE DID" Lando laughs and you groan out in embarrassment.

Moment 4:

"What was that chat? My door reopened and closed shut while I was gone?" you ask looking back at your door. You knew you were home alone, the only people having a key to your apartment being Max and Pietra and Lando. But they were all travelling right now and were on the plane.

"Chat, stop messing with me" you scold jokingly, you start to load up the game your changing too. However a knock at your bedroom door has you stilling.

"What" you mouth looking at the camera. You go to the door, chat spamming saying how by opening the door that how all the dumb movie characters die. You here another knock making you flinch, you rip open the door, screaming when you see the scary mask, jumping and tacking the person now.

"Ow Y/N fuck" you hear and you rip the mask of, knowing that voice but not wanting to assume.

"Lando?" you ask looking at him.

"I thought it would be funny" he jokes laughing.

Moment 4:

"So Lando, Max and I thought it would be funny to play Valorant but for every kill we get we do a shot" you exclaim.

"Y/N gonna need new kidneys by the end of this? Hmmm very true, maybe we change it to every time we die we do a shot?" you ask seeing what chat's opinion would be on that.

"Then Lando and Max will be needing new kidneys? Well, I'm playing on my alt account and I'm just chilling so we'll be in gold/silver lobbies. Last time we played on my normal account, it was a struggle.

"Lets ask what they prefer! Guys? You want to do shots every time we get a kill or when we die?" you ask after unmuting yourself.

"We playing with MILF account of FnaticY/N?" Lando asks.

"MILF of course. And no comps, I'm not being called a booster" you grin and Max groans, Max was gold 2 and was asking for you to coach him, you had watched him in unrated's but refused to do comps together.

"Wait, when did you change your name...didnt it used to be Ilovetits6?" Max laughs.

"Yes, but chat started to call me mother? So i just rolled with it" you grin looking at chat and winking.

Moment 5:

"Are you and Lando Norris dating?" you ask, and then you open your phone and call Lando himself.

"Hey baby!" you smile and show the chat what Lando is saved as and the picture while he's on speakerphone.

"Hey love. I'm a little late coming back. I got stuck here with Zac and Oscar, but Max and P wanted to know if you would like to go out for dinner with them tonight" he asks and you laugh.

"Wait, Y/N are you live"

"Maybe, look you said you were ready to go public. So this is payback for what you did to Max on stream!" you laugh, knowing he wont be mad at you, as you'd talked recently about going public.

"Exposed? Yes yes i did" you grin.

Moment 6:

"Y/N your boyfriend is horny come sort him out" AngryGinge says adding you to the call forcefully mid stream.

"Mmmm that sounds like a job for you" you says seriously and you pull up his and Lando's stream to watch what was going on. Some people had come into your stream to say to get Lando to end the stream before PR has his head.

"He's been moaning on stream Y/N get your man and take him home"

"Yeah sorry let me just hop on the jet to Monaco..." you joke, knowing you definitely don't have a private jet.

"Wait, just how rich are you? Your boyfriends out here buying watches for 400k, you have a private jet. This just ain't right!" he exclaims making you laugh.

"I don't have a private jet. But... I've been in one of Max Verstappen's" you boast, you'd been introduced to him through Lando as Kelly wanted to meet you and set you up with her modelling agency.

"Huh? WHAT?" he screams and you just laugh before leaving the call. You shoot Lando a teasing message watching his eyes change as he reads it, and he lets out a groan that soon turns into a joke as Angry Ginge yelled at him to calm down again.

Moment 7:

"Salem stop" you tell your cat, which had jumped up and starting to paw in your lap where the blanket lay across before flopping down wanting fuss.

She started to meow at you not getting the wanted attention, but you were in the middle of an important rank up game, that would put you as radiant in Valorant.

As the game went on, you apologized to your teammates when you died after nearly clutching a round when Salem distracted you by pawing at your hand on your mouse.

"Salem please bub. 3 more rounds and you can have all the cuddles in the world" you whisper to the cat before she settles down, you proceed to Ace the next round and your team and you win the next two. The end of the game, with the MVP you get promoted to Radiant #497.

You celebrated by grabbing Salem your black Bombay cat and hugging her tightly, she leans into you wrapping her paws around happy for the affection she's finally getting.

"Treat?" you ask receiving a meow.

Chat:

y/nloverrr02- not y/n celebrating like she just got a podium

landonorizz- what's harder, f1 win, or reaching the top 500 valorant players

wedonttalkabouther- please, mother is mothering!

deadlocknerf- not her top fragging as an omen and their jett with a negative kda.

lockandassit- well done on the promo!

LandoNorris- Babe! Well done! I watched your win! I'm so proud

"Thank you, everybody. I think I'll leave it there for the day and I'll come back and we can try and get into the 450's!" you exclaim before cutting stream.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #lando norris imagine #lando norris #lando x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #max fewtrell #max fewtrell x reader

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florencemtrash · 11 months ago

Text

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Thirteen

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Canon typical violence. A walk through Velaris turns for the worse and the secrets of The Book are finally revealed...

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

It would seem I was wrong. It does not take much for Bethsevah Mordeigh to turn.

I should be ashamed, but the more often Thanatos keeps coming back, the more I come to like him. Make no mistake, he’s as dangerous and volatile as a starving animal, but compared to his siblings he’s a saint.

I saw him kill a male yesterday. One who stumbled upon our hidden ceremony and threatened to come back with Koschei’s army and crush us and the Mother beneath his boot.

But with a snap of Thanatos’s fingers the nameless fae was gone. Gone in a gust of red wind that smelled and tasted like metal. And Thanatos looked stronger for it. His pale skin stopped being so translucent. His hair looked a touch darker, so dark it swallowed all light. A piece cut away from the fabric of the world.

Death is his food. Him and his siblings feed on it and crave it like nothing else.

Except for me.

Thanatos says he craves me. And I think I believe him. I think I’m beginning to crave him too.

Gwyn froze when the mountain’s door slid back. Azriel stood outside Cagniv Library with a bouquet of salt-white water lilies clutched in one hand and pale blue tulips in the other.

“Azriel,” you smiled brightly, the last word you’d meant to speak to Gwyn dying on your lips. “What’re you doing here?”

The midday sun beat down on the face of the mountain, shortening the shadows around your feet.

“I was coming from the House of Wind and was hoping you’d take a long walk home with me. These are for you.” He held out the tulips. “And for you.” He held out the lilies for Gwyn, which she accepted after a brief moment of hesitance.

Azriel looked… lighter. His shadows were stronger than ever, clinging to his body like a second scent, but his eyes held a fondness and love for you that Gwyn had never seen before. Not when he was looking at Mor, not when he was looking at Elain… not when he was looking at her. It was so obvious to Gwyn’s eyes, she was amazed you hadn’t caught on yet. You just looked at the flowers with a touch of color flooding your cheeks. Bashful and uncertain of how to accept such a gift.

“Thank you.” You touched the velvety petals between your fingers as though they might crumble if you weren’t gentle.

“Yes. Thank you.”

Azriel looked at Gwyn, that small smile of his faltering and then growing once more when Gwyn nodded her head. It was a silent acknowledgement. A quiet understanding that didn’t completely escape your notice.

I’m not happy with you. Gwyn’s eyes spoke. But I understand. Her teal eyes flashed protectively. Don’t fuck this up.

“I assume I’ll be seeing you tomorrow?” Gwyn smirked at you and nudged her shoulder with your own, feeling the soft give of her skin and the strength in her arms.

“Where else would I be?”

“At home. Sleeping.”

“Pffft. Sleep is for the weak.”

“Careful. You’re starting to sound like Az. Now shoo.” Gwyn waved you off, watching as you took the arm that Azriel offered and made your way down the smooth steps of the mountain back to the city.

You bowed your heads together, lips barely moving and cutting out two dark silhouettes in the air. Azriel must have said something funny because your gentle laugh carried itself on the wind, weaving into the air like silver thread. Gwyn couldn’t help but smile at you.

If she knew what was about to happen, she would have never let you leave the library.

“They’re in love.”

Azriel looked sideways at you, catching the sweet scent of your hair as you leaned against him. The Palace of Hoof and Leaf buzzed with quiet energy, the air tinged with the scent of sugar from the confectionary booths.

“Who?”

“Beth and Thanatos.”

The book rocked against your hip, matching the beat of you and Azriel’s steps as you walked through the cobblestone marketplace. Lanterns hung unlit from the arches above, bobbing on wire like the bubbles that a pair of hawk-winged children were blowing from the steps of a peach-stone apartment. The girl, blue-eyed and red-haired, nudged the boy, pointing at the Shadowsinger with something like awe. Azriel offered them a faint smile and a few tendrils of his shadows licked at their feet as they scampered away with laughter. It was just a game to them after all.

“I didn’t think he was capable of love,” Azriel noted. He thought back to the memories you’d unearthed with your powers and of the violent ways Thanatos had inched his way into Beth’s life. Wherever he lingered, death followed. But so far as you knew, he was also incredibly protective of Beth and the other priestesses. They’d benefited from his presence even if they were unnerved by it. He’d kept them hidden from Koschei.

“Beth didn’t think so either.” You flinched when one of the marketplace hawkers held his hand out to you. He didn’t shout like the others and seemed grieved when you stepped back into the folds of Azriel’s wings. He opened his sticky fist palm up to the sky revealing a handful of neat caramel candies wrapped in wax paper.

“For the miss.”

Y/n looked at Azriel, who only nodded with a smile.

“Thank you.” You gingerly took them from him, taking a moment to admire the light brown of the confectioner’s eyes, like burnt sugar, and the wisps of candy floss clinging to his shirt like loose threads.

He didn’t resume his shouting until you were a good distance away, deep voice bellowing out over the square that his wares were made fresh that morning. You unwrapped one of the candies and stuck it in your mouth, sighing as it turned around on your tongue, slowly melting. Azriel took one of the candies you offered, but tucked it into his pocket when you turned your head to inspect the baskets of spices laid out on the sidewall.

“But he keeps staying with her. Keeps warning her of Koschei’s movements so she and her fellow priestesses can stay hidden. He… he cares for her. Or at least Beth seems to think so. The information — the story — is more pleasant than I could have hoped for, and I’m eternally grateful she doesn’t go in depth about their activities—”

Azriel chuckled. “So it’s not like one of Nesta’s books.”

“Thank the Mother no. But it doesn’t get us any closer to finding out how to defeat Koschei. She doesn’t even talk about Koschei or the priestesses much. Only Thanatos. It’s just a love story.”

“Love stories are never just that though. They’re probably the most powerful things in the universe. Look at Rhysand and Feyre. Cassian and Nesta. I don’t think we’d be where we are now if not for their love for one another. The things they were willing to do to protect what they cared about.”

“Do you ever wish you had that?” You dared to ask. “That kind of love? A mate?” Azriel turned to look at you, eyes filled with more cryptic meaning than you could ever imagine unraveling. There was hope, longing, grief, and a slew of other emotions. Their weight seemed to press in on you, but you didn’t feel overwhelmed.

“All the time,” he whispered. Then he smiled, staring down at where your arm was linked to his. “Do you?”

You turned away almost bitterly. “I don’t know what I’d do with that kind of love. If I’d be able to handle it. It might be too much for me.”

“I would disagree.”

You couldn’t find the words to respond, so you settled on silence. Luckily for you, silence with Azriel never felt uncomfortable.

“If your shadows keep taking them, I’m going to forget how many I’ve selected.”

“I see no problem with this,” Azriel shrugged and continued to follow you around the bookshop. It had stuck out to you immediately on your long walk back to the River House. A squat, two-story townhouse with charmingly chipped white paint laid over sturdy brick and sage green shutters. Candles winked in the afternoon light pressed up against window sills where two fat ginger cats lay purring in the sun. The dark, woodsy interior dripped with books, leather notebooks, and automatic writing pens that hovered over thick pages like butterflies. “We have space in the house.”

“It’s less about space and more about how much I’ve spent.” Your fingers brushed the next book on the shelf and its deep purple binding.

Oh that one’s interesting — a romance between a Spring Court nymph and a Dundarian knife maker filled with adventure, lust, longing, and found family.

You’d no sooner plucked it from the shelf before shadows crowded your hands, whisking it off to whatever ether Azriel kept them hidden in. He wrote the name of the book on a sheaf of paper, his handwriting neat and simple.

You turned on him, arms folded over your chest. “You can’t keep doing that.”

“You are not to spend a copper of your own money here. Rhysand and Feyre’s orders. Just put it on the House’s credit. Rhysand’s already added you.”

“They put me on their credit?” You balked even thinking about the money you’d been given access to.

Azriel nodded. “Consider it repayment.”

“Repayment for what? I haven’t done anything.”

Azriel looked at you quietly, as if the answer were obvious. “You’re the reason I still have a sister-in-law and a niece. You’re the reason we now have a name to investigate and are one step closer to defeating Koschei. You’re the reason the Godswoods and the Gallows haven’t been stolen from yet and a number of Librarians still have their lives. Do I need to continue?”

You thought through what he said. It was true that Helion’s intervention in the Godswoods and the Gallows had been effective. No deaths had been reported since then, but it didn’t make you feel any safer. A snake was still a snake, even when camouflaged.

“Only two of those things matter to the Night Court. Helion owes me for the latter.”

“Then you can have him contact the banks and transfer the sums.” Azriel’s eyes twinkled with mischie. You went to snatch the paper out of his hands, but all he had to do was raise his arm to the ceiling, a smile tugging at his lips. You jumped up, one hand firm on his shoulder for leverage, but it was no use. He was too damned tall.

You stood on the tips of your toes to get closer to eye level with Azriel. His eyes flickered down to your lips, the shapes they made as you quietly said, “Thank you.”

You lingered in the stacks for a few moments longer, nervously asked the shop owner to put the list of books on the High Lord and High Lady’s tab — which she did with a warm smile — and then made your way back outside. The bell hanging above the doorway jingled happily, the wood burned sign saying Come back soon! Love, Jessebell.

You trailed ahead of him down the street. Every sign, every shop window display, every street sign — you drank them in like you were ravenous.

Azriel felt Rhys’s presence drift in the outskirts of his mind, and without hesitation, he let him in.

Where are you? What’s taking so long?

Nearly to the Sidra. I brought her to Jessebell’s.

That explains your lateness. Rhys paused. She must have loved that.

Azriel smiled inwardly. She did. She really did.

A female with weathered, dark skin and flowers sprouting from her ears stopped you on the street and although your first instinct was to recoil, you relaxed when she only lifted up a deep black tulip in her textured hands. The wilting flower straightened up when you kissed one of the petals as instructed and the gentle laugh that followed had Azriel’s heart soaring.

Well make sure you get here in time for dinner. I want as many of our family members under my roof as possible.

Is this an ask, or a command?

Don’t make me use my High Lord voice on you.

Azriel rolled his eyes with a smile. I am absolutely trembling. Do you use that tone of voice on Nyx?

He felt as much as heard Rhys’s laughter. Enjoy your time with Y/n, but come back soon. Mor is looking to get her hands on your mate. Mother help us all.

Rhys cut the connection and Azriel was free to admire you once more.

You cradled the bouquet he’d given you in your arms, light reflecting off the petals and casting a faint blue glow on your face as you chatted with the florist. Your smile, which had started out forced and nervous, was slipping into something more relaxed. When the female laughed merrily and touched your wrist, you didn’t flinch.

Dark tendrils of night curled around his ears and Azriel felt a shiver trail down his spine.

Behind you. His shadows whispered. The boy needs help. There’s something wrong with him.

The boy startled back when Azriel turned towards him, tripping over a nick in the cobblestones and landing with a wince on his palms. Glassy pale eyes stared up, wide and terrified. His clothes were rumpled and unkempt and his white-blond hair was a mess of curls flecked with grey, like he’d been rolling around in dust. Pale pink and blue veins rose to the surface of his green-tinged skin, sickly and unnerving. He looked like a corpse on puppet strings.

Azriel looked around, but no one was searching for the little boy. No yelps belonging to scared parents. No calls from a sibling.

“Shadowsinger, sir?” Even his voice sounded sickly, like his vocal chords were disintegrating in his throat.

Azriel immediately dropped to his knees and slid his hands behind his back. “What’s happened, little one? What’s wrong?” His voice was smooth and gentle.

He was too busy thinking that his boy was younger than Nyx, too busy ordering his shadows out to search for the boy’s parents that he didn’t think twice about the lingering stench of blood clinging to the boy’s shoes or the faint pain beginning to grow behind his hazel eyes.

The boy looked around furtively while wringing his grubby hands, and then leaned close to whisper in Azriel’s ear. His pale eyes narrowed in concentration.

“It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen a black tulip before.”

“It’s a little secret of mine. You need to get the seed and soil just right.” The female brushed her waist length hair over her shoulder. The knotted strands had the thick, coarse texture of seafarer’s rope, as aged and wise as the rest of her. When you held the flower back out for her to take she shook her head.

“For you, my dear. I have dozens more and I think it would attract more business if you wore it around today. A beautiful creature like you must get lots of attention.”

You knew she was probably just saying these things to get your business, but you couldn’t help the spark of joy the compliments gave you. She helped tuck the flower into the braids of your hair and you felt the petals kiss the tips of your left ear.

“Say.” The female leaned in like she was about to share a secret. “If you aren’t already taken, I have a niece who’d love to have a pretty girl like you on her arm.”

Your blush deepened and you found yourself stammering, “That’s very kind, but I don't-I don’t-'' You glanced up the street. Azriel was kneeling on the ground, head bent down to a small child. You only caught the wisps of white, candy floss hair over Azriel’s broad shoulders.

The female traced the path of your gaze and sighed. “Ahhhhh. I see.” There was a triumphant look in her eyes, even as she said, “Shame. But I’ll still give you my niece’s name if you don’t mind.”

Your eyes snapped away from Azriel’s and you smiled in embarrassment. “Oh, we’re not—”

“Henna.”

You stepped back. Panic froze the blood in your veins and you felt pinpricks traveling up your body, stabbing your heart and your mind. You could see her now. Her silver hair fanned out around her. Her broken body. Her bloodied eye socket, dark and empty.

“I’m sorry. What did you say?” You had to have heard her incorrectly. Your head was pounding but you pushed back on your mental wards, shoring up your defenses until the feeling passed.

The female tilted her head to the side. Her eyes were as milky and glassy as pearls. “Does the name mean anything to you, dear?”

You took another step back and the female stepped forward. Her eyes seemed to clear then and her brows furrowed in concentration and pain. She lunged forward, tearing away at your clothes and knocking the flowers of your hands as she begged. “Help me. The boy. He’s inside—HELP ME!”

You surged back, crumpling to the ground under her heavy weight as she continued to pull and claw.

She’d been restocking the back room when the dirty little boy and the tailor showed up in the alleyway. He still carried that bolt of fabric under the crook of his arm. He took out a knife, orange eyes flashing and slit his throat from ear to ear while the little boy watched. Smiling.

“LET GO!” You kicked out, ramming your knee up and into the soft flesh of her stomach like you’d seen Emerie do to Cassian, but you lacked her strength and technique. The female wheezed but didn’t let go, even as others came to try and pry her off of you. Their voices were frantic, trying to calm you down, but they were the voices and hands of strangers.

“AZ!” You screamed, feeling the female sink her nails into your arm.

There was an ugly tearing sound and the cool touch of wind at your chest. Your robes were ripped apart under her rough hands and her eyes narrowed in on your belt and the chain that connected to the book. She bucked off a cherub-faced female with a blow to her nose and blood splashed over your cheek.

“Help me. Please. Oh… oh gods.” She grabbed at the book, but the chain glowed iron hot in her hands. The smell of burning scorched your nose as the magic did what it was meant to do. Nothing could break that chain. Not unless you willed it. Not while you were still alive.

“Oh gods. Oh gods help me. I’m so sorry.” There were tears streaming down her face, tracing the canyons and valleys of her skin. She threw off the fae clamoring around you both and ran with jerky, uncoordinated leaps back into her flower shop. She snatched the gardening shears off the windowsill where she’d been trimming her hydrangea bushes. She wept and shook her head, mouth struggling to open and scream as she held the shears up high and then drove them into her neck.

The scene took a long time to filter through the haze of panic and disbelief.

“Az… Az… Az—AZRIEL!” Your shrill scream pierced through the air. You scrambled away from everyone. Stones shaved away the skin of your knees, your palms. The tattered silk of your robes trailed behind you. “Don’t touch me!” You shrieked at the male who tried grabbing your arm, soft voice whispering.

He wasn’t the one you wanted.

“AZRIEL!”

The female dropped to her knees, hands clutching her throat as blood poured out in bubbly, gurgling spurts. The candy pink strips of her apron turned a wet, sticky black as she crawled back towards the door.

“Oh gods… Please,” she wheezed, wet and agonized, before collapsing face down on the floor. Motionless.

You staggered to your feet twisting away from everyone crowding around you.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t!”

“Miss you must sit. Please—”

“Let me help—”

“Are you hurt? What’s—”

“Don’t touch me. Please don’t touch me. Don’t touch me!”

Screams. The sound of doors slamming shut. Locks turning. Commanding barks calling for a healer. Calling for the High Lord and the High Lady. Calling for the Shadowsinger to help.

Azriel was still kneeling in front of that boy and no matter how many times you called his name and pushed through the crowd of people now rushing up and down the streets in a frenzy, he didn’t get up. He didn’t look at you. You may as well have not existed.

You finally reached him, narrowly missing being run over by a satyr who seemed to have gotten the wrong impression about which direction to sprint in. Every clip clop of his hooves shot through you.

“Az.”

Why hadn’t… Why hadn’t he helped you?

“Az.”

Why hadn’t he come when you called?

The Shadowsinger rose. One hand grabbed the hilt of Truth Teller and the malicious blade sang as it was unleashed. The shadows that normally hovered about him like mist were gone. They were all around you now, tugging you in the opposite direction towards the Sidra. They pleaded for you to run, but you couldn’t understand them.

Something was deeply, deeply wrong.

“Az.” You begged and grabbed hold of his hand. “Please. You’re scaring me.”

Truth Teller shot out and pain radiated up your arm as the blade cut neatly through your clothes and sliced open your skin. You tripped backward, landing with a thud on the street that rattled your bones. Your sleeve turned dark with blood.

You whimpered, holding your ruined arm up to your chest. There was no feeling in Azriel’s eyes. No flicker of recognition. None of that warmth and kindness you were so accustomed to. Just a menacing, silent form towering over you and blocking out the sun.

A pale boy stood by Azriel’s side with ice chip eyes and rectangular pupils. He grinned brightly and the stretch of his waxy cheeks was too tight. Too forced. He shouldn’t have been alive. He-he—

Andrian.

You’d seen him in Henna’s memory. You’d heard the snap of his neck beneath Koschei’s hands. Even now the boy was bent awkwardly, his head left in a perpetual tilt that should have looked charming and inquisitive but instead made you want to retch.

Andrian smiled at you then plastered a practiced look of horror on his face before running away with tears streaming down his cheeks, shouting for his mother. A burly male grabbed his shoulders, alarm on his face as he hoisted Andrian into his arms and disappeared into the crowd. Because who wouldn’t stoop down to help a fragile little boy? Who would dare suspect that the daemati that had roamed the Day Court’s halls and slithered his way into Velaris was a child?

Azriel gripped you by the front of your ruined clothes, hosting you up in the air. Your feet kicked uselessly and grabbed onto Azriel’s arm, trying to alleviate the choking pressure of his hand so close to your neck.

“No. Azriel please. It’s me,” you whimpered. “It’s me.”

There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. There and gone. So brief you wondered if you’d imagined it.

His left hand parted the tatters of your robes, and you flinched when his fingers brushed against your hip before settling on the chain that kept the book tied to you.

Panic seized your soul.

You’d been chipping away at the book’s secrets for months and you couldn’t let Azriel — couldn’t let Koschei — get his hands on it. Not without you knowing what it was that made Beth’s story so special.

You flung a hand out, feeling the leather of the book beneath your fingertips like it was your own skin. Your magic called out to the book, desperate and powerful and familiar, and the barriers it possessed to hide its secrets melted away at your beckoning. You poured every inch of your power into it even as Azriel’s lips turned down in an ugly frown that didn’t belong on his face.

Your eyes turned to gold, bright as the sun as you basked in the knowledge flooding your mind with the force of a tsunami. You didn’t hold anything back. Not this time.

You were so lost in the book — in the emotions and memories wrapping around your mind, sharp and brighter than the light of a thousand suns — that you didn’t feel it when Azriel gripped that golden chain. The metal flared, a high-pitched ring piercing the air as it snapped in two, giving way to Azriel’s power. Nothing should have broken it. And yet there it was dangling from your waist.

You did feel it when he broke your wrist.

When he forced the book from your grasp.

And then stabbed you in the stomach.

Cassian and Nesta winnowed to the street and watched in horror as your body was dropped to the ground. Your head cracked the pavement, hands twitching palms up at your sides.

Nesta shrieked. The sound was harrowing. The mourning, dying screams of an animal.

She charged forward, twin blades flashing in her hands, and silver light shot out of her chest, crashing into Azriel’s shields and forcing him back twenty feet. He gritted his teeth. The rubber soles of his shoes skidded and burned.

Cassian collapsed on his knees beside you, peeling off his leather jacket and wrapping it around your head and neck to keep it in place.

“Shit.” His hands came away bloody. RHYS! FEYRE! He screamed into the corners of his mind, hoping they’d hear. GET HERE NOW!

“Thanatos.” Your voice was weak.

“It’s Cass. Hey, keep your eyes on me ok.” He pressed his hands against your stomach, wings flared out to protect you from the cold burn of Nesta’s power as she went toe to toe with The Shadowsinger. Magic sizzled in the air, raising the hair on the back of Cassian’s neck like a lightning strike waiting to happen. Blood pooled over his hands, thick and dark. “Eyes open,” he commanded, “On me.”

Your eyes were open, and glowing strangely, but you weren’t staring at Cassian. No. You were miles outside of your body.

“The Bone Carver. That’s it.”

“Eyes on me, Y/n. Eyes on me.”

“Thanatos,” your hand twitched, “The Bone Carver. That’s how she did it.”

Nesta screamed, flying overhead in a burst of blue light that had her back slamming into one of the marketplace towers. The white marble cracked viciously and Nesta dropped to the ground, dazed and distracted as blood dripped out from her nose.

“NESTA!” Cassian roared, eyes narrowing into dangerous slits as Azriel waited at the bottom of the street.

The Shadowsinger muttered something dark and revolting beneath his breath. Ancient, powerful words that were whispered in his mind. He held onto the book in his hands as it lit up in flames and then blew the ashes into the wind that would carry them all the way to Andrian’s master.

Koschei.

The call of her mate sharpened her senses and Nesta rolled onto her feet, calling her weapons back into her hands and leveling a glare at Azriel that would have killed a lesser male on the spot.

She was Nesta fucking Archeron.

Lady Death.

Queen of Queens.

And she would be damned if she let Azriel hurt her or anyone else.

“I’m sorry for what I’m about to do, Az,” she growled.

She’d been holding back before. She’d been holding back a long while. But no more of that. The power she let out burst through Velaris with light brighter than a dying star, crackling with an energy that knocked Azriel off his feet and sent him crashing into the river wall with a sickening crack that shattered the bones in his arm, his leg, and his wings.

Rhys appeared at his side, violet eyes wide open in shock. He could feel the magic suffocating his brother’s consciousness, burying him so deep there was almost nothing left but anger behind his whiskey-brown eyes.

Rhysand grabbed the sides of his head, shoving his way into Azriel’s mind even while he fought back. Rhys flinched when one of Azriel’s knives nicked his temple, drawing blood that dripped down onto his velvet dinner jacket and floated on the dense material like dew drops.

“Stop. This isn’t you, Az.”

Azriel seethed, teeth bared and bloody. He spit in Rhysand’s face and he winced. Rhysand would never be able to forgive himself for what he did next. But someone had burrowed themselves into Azriel’s mind so thoroughly, so viciously, that in that moment, it was the only thing Rhys could think to do.

Rhysand’s talons dragged down on Azriel’s mental walls so viciously he screamed as they were torn to pieces. He dug in with brutal efficiency. Reaching, tearing, clawing to catch the curl of power that had infected Azriel’s mind before it could do any more damage. He latched onto its slithery, silver body and wrenched it out of Azriel’s consciousness.

When I find you. You’re as good as dead. Rhysand promised.

The daemati slunk away with a giddiness that sent a shiver through The High Lord’s bones.

Azriel slumped, weak and boneless, against his brother’s shoulder. Sweat beaded his brow and he shook, blinking the saltiness out of his eyes. He felt like he’d been beaten within an inch of his life. His bones were broken. His wings twisted. There was a raging headache that a hundred shots of vodka paled in comparison to.

But it was his hands that horrified him most. Red and slippery.

His breath shook.

He couldn’t… he couldn’t remember… what….

His eyes shot to Rhys, then up the street where he could make out Feyre, Cass, and Nesta huddled over your still body. The bond sat deep within him pulsing with terror and pain.

“Rhys.” His voice broke. Rhysand angled his body to hide you from view, but it was too late. Azriel was panicking now, body trembling uncontrollably. “What happened?”

Rhysand said nothing. His eyes shined with horror.

“What did I do? Rhys, what did I do?!”

“Cass. Cassian, I’ve got her.”

His hands were shaking. There was so much blood. The smell burned his nose and made him want to throw up his lunch. Feyre covered his hands with her own, peeling them away sticky and red from Y/n’s stomach.

Light flooded out from Feyre’s palms, warm and lovely and Cassian and Nesta breathed a sigh of relief as the flow of red slowed and then stopped, flesh knitting itself back together.

“It’s ok. You’ll be ok.” Nesta’s words were commanding as she held your neck and head still.

Your eyes searched the empty sky, seeing and unseeing. Then your hands shot up, grasping Feyre’s shoulders and digging in deep enough to leave bruises. Your eyes were wide, staring at her with an intensity that spoke of a thousand years. An unfathomable wealth of knowledge that should have crushed you beneath its weight.

“Y/n it’s ok,” she murmured gently, pushing more power into your body, willing you to heal faster.

“Look. Feyre you need to look,” your voice was thick. Wet. Blood coated the inside of your mouth bitter and metallic.

“I’m looking. Y/n, you hit your head. It’s going to be ok. You hear me? It’s going to be ok.”

“You need to look,” you said once more.

You trailed a bloody, weak hand down Feyre’s arm and pulled her fingers up to your temple, tapping once. Twice.

Without any more direction, she slipped into your mind and gasped.

Feyre stood in a pool of mist, white fingers reaching up her legs and splintering outwards before they changed direction and started to climb up into the darkness like trees. Or rather… like bookshelves. The mist formed stacks that disappeared into the distance, endless hallways and shelves that wound around each other. Chaotic and orderly at the same time.

She could feel your presence beside her. Or rather she was you. In that moment she felt the raging winds of your power, hot and ravenous. It wrapped around you, tugging you to and fro like that uncontrollable lurch when you stand too close to the cliff’s edge. The call of the void.

She needed to answer that call the same way you did whenever you used your powers, because somewhere in the halls of your mind stood the knowledge you’d worked so hard to obtain. The truth of how it was Bethsevah Mordeigh was able to trap Koschei, and how to end it once and for all.

Feyre let your magic pull her in the right direction. In the mist she stumbled upon the final memories you’d absorbed from the book before it had blown away in the wind.

Bethsevah wept, “No. No. No. I won’t,” shoving away the reed thin body that held her so close. Thanatos grasped her face in his pale hands, begging her to listen to him even as she shook her head frantically. “I won’t do it.”

“You must. Bethsevah, you must.” His pitch black eyes winked with starlight… or maybe it was his tears.

This world and its people had changed him. He could feel it in his bones. Something very deep and cruel within him had been twisted into something sacred. Something that toed the line of kindness.

Koschei thought it was this element that made fae and humans beneath the three of them. They were supposed to be pure. Powerful. Handing out life and taking it away like the gods they were. But now Thanatos knew better. Now he knew exactly what it was that made Koschei and Stryga worse than even him — they would never be able to care for anyone. Not the way he cared for Bethsevah. Not the way he cared for the world she loved.

“I won’t do it,” she growled.

“Then they’ll die,” he said, with a tone of finality that could only belong to a death god. “Everyone. Everyone you love. Everyone you care about. I know my brother. Koschei craves attention and devotion above all else. He won’t let you worship your Mother. He won’t stop until you all kneel or until you’re ashes in the wind. Beth—” He wrenched her hands back from where she covered her eyes, refusing to even look at him.

He tucked his crooked finger beneath her chin, coaxing her gaze up. Together they were storm clouds blanketing an eternal night. A lightning strike — brief and chaotic and electrifying.

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me,” she whispered, steel laced in her soft voice, “You don’t know what you’re offering.”

He smiled, sad and simple. “I know exactly what I’m offering up.”

“Once I lock you in The Prison, I won’t be able to let you out. No one will. You’ll be trapped there for eternity.” She shivered, closing her eyes. She wouldn’t wish that fate upon her worst enemy, but her mate? She shook her head.

“I know.”

“No, you—”

“I have seen the first fall of snow on a new world. I have seen entire cities leveled to dust with no survivors. I’ve lived thousands of years. I understand.”

“We’ll find a way. Kosch—”

“Remember what I told you,” he whispered, “Back at the cabin? You were made to ruin me, Beth. And I will let you do it a million times over. Without hesitation.”

You and Feyre felt Beth’s pain as acutely as if you shared the same heart.

“I wish she hadn’t done it,” Beth whispered, “I wish the Mother had never created me to be your mate.”

“I don’t.” Thanatos leaned his forehead against Beth’s and got lost in her. “There is no other way, Bethsevah.” He kept saying her name, like just speaking the word and feeling the shapes it took in his mouth would prolong the time they had together. Would tie them together more surely than the bond that burned in their chests.

She felt the battleground slip beneath her feet and no amount of power, no amount of willpower, could change it.

He brushed back her hair and trailed one of his slender fingers down the curve of her cheek ending one teardrop’s race to her chin. “Mating bonds are powerful things, Beth. Your magic — your blood — and yours alone will be able to cut through my defenses and sever me from my power. I want you to take it and lock me away. Once my magic is yours, Stryga won’t be able to see you coming and you’ll be able to take her power as well. So long as you leave Koschei for last it may just be enough power to rid him from this earth once and for all.”

“You’d have me do this. Destroy you and your family. This is what you want?”

Thanatos hesitated. “I am not a good male. But this… this will have to be enough. This is what I want, Bethsevah. For you and your family to live. To be happy and safe.”

“I won’t be happy, “ she said, eyes now flat and dull as the silver coins they placed over the dead, “I won’t take anyone else.”

“I want you to,” he begged, “I want you to marry and to have children. I want you to grow your family so that one day, if I ever do make it out of that Prison, I’ll still see pieces and memories of you roaming this earth. That’s all I want, Bethsevah, and it’s already more than I deserve.”

“I’ll find a way,” Beth promised. “I’ll find a way to get you out. I swear it.”

“Don’t make any bargains with me.” He smiled sadly, thumb wiping away at her cheeks, “That’s what got us into this mess.”

Finally she laughed, just a little. “I don’t regret it.”

“Neither do I.”

The memory froze. A moment in time trapped like a beetle in amber.

A hand grabbed Feyre by her shoulders and swung her around. You stood there cloaked in pale, golden light, your eyes shining like copper coins. When you opened your mouth, you spoke in Beth’s voice.

Thanatos told me that magic runs in blood — familiar, same. But mates are different. Powerful. Their magic can protect one another. Identify one another across space and across time. But they can also turn on each other viciously. A lock and a key. Madness and salvation.

What I could destroy in Thanatos, I stood a chance at destroying in his siblings.

Your face fell, hauntingly beautiful in the glow of your powers.

But I couldn’t do it. Not in the way he asked. I took his power. I locked him in that Prison. I bound Stryga to her cabin in the woods. But I didn’t kill Koschei when I should have. When the power of three gods was coursing through my veins and stripping me down to my bones, when I had enough light within me to see the birth and death of stars and the face of the Mother, I couldn’t do it.

I thought I would be capable of destroying Koschei and freeing Thanatos, but I couldn’t do either. I had only enough sanity left to take that power and bury it somewhere Koschei couldn’t touch. To trap him on the lake where he can live in madness knowing his magic is so close by and yet locked away. Unreachable.

I’ve done my part. I’ve had my children. I’ve left my mark on the world, great and terrible as it is. If you’re reading this, my daughters, do what I could not. Take the power in the lake and destroy him. It will open for you, and only you. My power. My blood.

And if you have any love for me at all, find a way to release Thanatos. That is what I ask of you.

Bethsevah’s calls had never been answered, at least not by her children. You knew this much in your heart. Thanatos — The Bone Carver — had freed himself thousands of years later only to die beneath the Cauldron’s power.

You whispered a silent prayer to the Mother. You hoped the Bone Carver was at peace now. Now that he must be with his Beth.

Azriel was screaming your name, broken cries cutting through the quiet of the marketplace. You’d never thought him capable of such a wretched noise.

The High Lady sat shock still above you with tears streaming down her face. Grey eyes glistening.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

I apologize if you thought I'd forgotten about the plot with Koschei and was just writing cute, fluffy scenes between our favorite Librarian and our favorite Batboy. But you also should've remembered that I burned this girl's house down and had her kill a another character in self defense so... this was coming... sorry...

This is by far the chapter I've been most nervous about posting because it's where I start to tie together all the weird loose threads that have been accumulating throughout this story so I am very much open to feedback on how I can do things better and on how I can make things clearer moving forward. Or! If you thought I did a good job and are intrigued, I'd appreciate it if you let me know that too!

But anyway thanks for reading 😅.

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel shadowsinger #the shadowsinger and the inkbird #acotar fanfiction #acotar #azriel x reader angst

871 notes · View notes

lovecla · 4 months ago

Text

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter four:

➴ warnings: angst, jealousy, insecurities

➴ word count: 3.9k

➴ author’s note: this is a mess, soph and jack are a mess, quinn’s a sweetheart, grace’s funny af and i’ve reached 100 followers today. can’t even describe how happy i am with the attention IYLM,LMK is getting. i adore u all so much and i hope u stick with me for a while. prepare your seatbelts because shit is about to hit the fan. :,)

SOMETHING changed between you and Jack that day at the Skims set, a week ago.

You finally realized that you are, very much, in love with Jack Hughes. Which was something that you never, in a million years, would’ve guessed. Because, what; you told yourself you’d never get your heart shattered again, yet here you were, walking straight (and worse: willingly) into a trap, falling in love with the man whore of the Devils team.

Despite all of the mean things your mind wanted to tell you, you just forced yourself to remember that not every man is like your cheater ex boyfriend and that not every man would completely crush your heart and tear it apart.

And even though you wouldn't put your hand on the fire and say that he felt the same way as you, if he didn’t, that man was good at pretending. Because no way in hell he’d take all of his fuck buddies to their family lake cabin to throw a Halloween party.

“This is crazy, Jack, you are in the middle of the season, and I’m in the middle of releasing something…” you started, watching as the car took a turn. “Also, how the fuck did you manage to organise a party in, like, thirty minutes?”

“Uh. I’m literally a NHL player. What did you expect?” He scoffed, so full of himself it was almost impossible to stand. You rolled your eyes. “And it’s just a night. I’m not screwing everything up for having fun for one night only, baby, and neither is you.”

“I guess you’re right.” You mumbled, answering some texts messages on your phone.

“I’m always right.” You rolled your eyes again, watching as he drove with ease. “What are you wearing tonight?”

“My fans have been dying for me to dress up as Rapunzel, so I might as well please them.” You shrugged, locking your phone and putting it on your pocket.

“I don’t know about them but I am definitely pleased with the idea.” He smirked.

“You’re just horny, Hughes. Happens to the best of us.”

“Or you’re just pretty. Happens to some of us.”

You laughed, cheeks warm and heart beating fast. “You’re a flirt, Jack Hughes. I missed that. Is it always this crazy during the season?”

“Like you can’t even imagine. My life is just games, working out, eating plain shit and practice for seven months straight.”

“And you love every second of it, don’t you?”

He smiled, white teeth making the view seem a whole lot brighter. “I do, yes. It’s like… the only thing that makes me feel truly alive.”

“Yeah, I know what it feels like,” you whispered. “I feel like that when I’m on the stage too. It’s just… I don’t know. Makes me feel good.”

“I like seeing you on stage,” he nodded and you raised your brow. “What? I do, really. That concert I went to with Nico was fun. Besides, watching you dance with those little dresses of yours is something else.”

“Boo, you’re just an idiot!” You laughed. “But thank you, Jackie bear.”

“Sophia, Jesus, do not call me that,” he whined, but the smile was still on his lips. “Gross.”

“Okay, Jackie bear, whatever you want, honeypot.”

“Sophia!”

— ♡

THE cabin was packed with people, and you were amazed with how fast people arrived, even with the short notice.

You were waiting for Grace to finish getting ready— she would be wearing a Tiana costume, matching your Rapunzel one— so you both could go downstairs and enjoy the party.

“Jack’s going to have a heart attack when he sees you with that little skirt,” Grace said, while applying lip gloss on her plump lips.

“Yeah, about that… I might need to talk to you about something.” You started, crossing your legs.

She stared at you through the mirror, raising her eyebrows. “Go on, Pinky Pie.”

“I thought we’d established that I’m Twilight and you’re my Mordecai?” You giggled, making Grace laugh too.

“I guess we can pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars…” she sighed. “Go on, then, baby. We don’t have all night.”

“So. I may or may have a thing for Jack. Actually, maybe more than just a thing. Think I’m in love, to be honest,” you waited to see her reaction, not expecting her to jump out of the vanity and start twirling around the room, making you laugh. “What are you doing?”

“Are you joking?” She looked at you like you’d grown a second head. “I just won two hundred bucks!”

Confusion took over your face. “What do you mean?”

“I told Nico that you’d be in love with Jack by the end of October and he said you’d be in love with him by the end of November, and since you confessed it now— perfect timing, by the way— I get my two hundred bucks!” She started dancing and jumping, like she wasn’t a nepo baby.

“Grace! What the hell, this is serious!” You raised your arms.

She sat back on the bed.

“Girl, no it isn’t. Just go to him and say: hey, buddy, here’s a secret not so secret: I’m in love with you.” She shrugged. “Just don’t sing the Airplanes song, please. That’s, like, our thing.”

“Grace, I— I can’t even— what the hell,” you wanted to run your hands through your hair, but you remembered that you were wearing extensions and a tiara. So you stick with biting your nails instead. “First of all, why the fuck would you and Nico bet on something like this? That doesn’t even make sense. Second, I can’t just go over there, call him and tell him I like him. That’s not how it works.”

“Well, Nico was the one who proposed the idea of betting so that’s on him!” She raised a finger. “And yes, that is literally how it works.”

“You’re forgetting that this is Jack Hughes. A guy who, apparently, can’t stay a week without a pussy and fucked every Jerseywoman who walked on God’s green earth.”

“Ew, don’t say that! You know my mom’s New Jersian…” she sighed, making a disgusted face. You smiled, apologetically. “Okay. I know that Jack’s past may not be the ideal background you want for your baby daddy but hear me out!”

“Baby daddy? What—”

“Jack hasn’t touched anyone else since you guys started… well. Fucking.” She blushes, like she wasn’t calling him your baby daddy not even a minute ago. “And he’s a great, great person. I’ve seen how he looks at you and if that man isn’t in love, then I’m white as a sheet of paper.”

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, feeling frustrated. “Harris also seemed like a great guy, and when we got together, everything changed. I don’t want to go through that ever again.”

“I know it hurt, and God knows I’d rather mop the entire ocean than to see you like that again,” she scooched closer, grabbed your hands and pressed her lips together, the REM Beauty lip gloss making her lips look magical. “But you have to give yourself that chance again. It’s been more than a year, and I’ve seen you and Jack together.”

“I know that, but—”

Grace clicked her tongue, a tsc reverberating on the bedroom walls.

“I’m telling you this as someone who isn’t inside that little head of yours,” she whispered, holding your hands tighter. “You and Jack together? Girl, that’s meant to be. That’s like Achilles and Patroclus, Romeo and Juliet, Hazel and Gus—”

“Girl, what the hell, can’t you find a couple who at least one of them is still alive?” You scoffed.

“Sorry, I just love depressing stories…” she apologized before starting talking again. “That’s not the point, anyway, Miss Girl and you know it! Fuck whatever your head is telling you, Soph: you deserve to be loved and you deserve to love.”

“I didn’t say I love h—” she put a hand over your mouth, interrupting you.

“You don’t have to. I know you, Soph, and the look you get on your face whenever you talk to him, or even better, talk about him, is enough for me,” she kissed your cheek, quickly wiping the lip gloss stain on your face. “And let me tell you a secret, honeybun, he has the same look on his face.”

You smiled, cheeks carmesim and heart full. Thanking Grace for saying all of this wasn’t enough, you needed to buy her a house on the beach with a very naked Nico Hischier inside of it. Maybe that’s what you were going to do.

If only you knew how to convince Nico to be naked at a beach house, you’d certainly—

Someone knocked on the door, and you both got up, surprisingly fast, remembering that you were not alone and that there was a whole party happening downstairs.

Opening the door, you faced Jack who looked way too hot with his own jersey. Of course he’d be wearing a Jack Hughes, NHL Player costume. Of fucking course.

“You were taking too long up here so I came to check on you but maybe we’ll be here for a bit longer.” He smirked, hands finding your corset-covered waist instantly.

“Hum—”

“Excuse me, Mr. I-can’t-keep-myself-in-my-pants, I’m still here.” Grace yelled behind you, and you watched as his entire face showed his annoyance.

“Yeah, I can see. Feel free to leave, though,” he rolled his eyes, holding your right hand and twirling you around. “You look so pretty, baby.”

Your entire face felt like a fireplace but you still smiled nonetheless. “Thank you.”

“You both are disgusting, excuse me,” Grace walked past the both of you, mumbling something about checking in with her husband.

“Let’s go.” He offered you his hands, which you promptly held.

Going downstairs, you were surprised with how full the house was. Like, there were at least fifty people there, which seemed insane for a cabin, no matter how large it was.

Jack dragged you around, saying “hi” to every person you walked by, true to his NHL playboy persona. To your amusement, some people also acknowledged you. Mostly some girls and a few guys. It was nice.

“Sophia!” You heard a shout and immediately knew who it was. Trevor Zegras, wearing a pirate costume, which was just an excuse for him to be shirtless, really. One of the most annoying people you’ve ever met. Truthfully. “Damn, I’d climb that tower for you.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’d push you down that shit, Zegras, fuck off.”

Jack laughed softly beside you, moving until you were both sitting on the couch. Quinn, Luke, Nico, Grace and Zegras were all there, talking with a few people you didn't know the name of.

“You can't say you don’t like me without trying me first.” Trevor suggested, looking directly at your face. You showed him your middle finger.

“No one wants to try you, Zegras, now fuck off,” Jack stated before sipping on the beer he stole from Luke, who was dressed as a cooking chef. Or at least that’s what it looked like.

“See, this is why Quinn’s my favorite Hughes,” he mumbled, smiling at Quinn. “Anyway, Soph knows where the heat’s at.” Pointing at himself, Zegras moved on to the girl on his right, who seemed awfully pleased to be his second option.

“Asshole.” You heard Jack mutter under his breath and you giggled, amused.

“Be nice. He’s just… in heat, I guess,” you shrugged, already used to Zegras’ comments. Every time you saw him, he had something new to add to the list. Usually, you’d tell him to fuck off, and he would.

“He’s a pain in my ass, that’s what he is.” Jack bickered, pouting like a ten-year-old child. You found it cute.

“Poor Jackie, huh?”

“Shut up, Soph.” He smiled, blue eyes bright and kind.

Now that you knew what those backflips your heart did every time you saw him smile meant, it was much harder to control them.

Confessing to Jack would break the no-strings-attached arrangement that you both had silently made. It would meant either dating him and having your happily ever after (even if you hardly believed in those) or having your heart broken (again) by a really nice guy who just wanted to fuck you.

Besides that, you were both well-known people, especially you. You remember all too well when you were at home, chilling after a concert, and you got several texts from your friends and family, regarding a bunch of pictures of Harris kissing another girl at a bus stop station. A fucking bus stop station.

The situation dragged on for months, every time you’d post something, people would mention the fact that your ex was a cheater, you had been cheated on and that somehow you deserved to get cheated on; because of the things you sang, because of the clothes you were. Just a shit show with an even shittier audience.

“Hey,” you heard Jack’s voice beside you, and you turned your head around, looking at him. “Where'd you go?”

“Nowhere,” you smiled; it didn’t reach your eyes. Jack seemed to be ready to talk back when a girl— brunette with the greenest eyes you’ve ever seen— threw herself at his lap.

“Jackieeee.” She whined, kissing his cheek. “I missed you.”

You could tell she was a little tipsy, but even so, it made your stomach ache anyway. That ugly, shattering feeling of feeling like less than less came back, and it was as if you could feel the narrator of your story preparing himself to repeat the same shit again. Here’s Sophia again, the girl who likes to mistake butterflies for cardiac arrests.

“Hi…” Jack sounded unsure, something he rarely did. You looked at Grace, and she looked right back at you. Only then you realized that basically everyone was staring at you.

“You don’t remember me?” The girl sounded like she was pouting and you cringed. She was so close to you, sitting on his lap, that her left thigh was brushing against your arm. “That’s fine. I’ll make sure to be unforgettable this time, baby.”

“Wow, I think that’s it for me,” you muttered, getting up from the couch, moving to the kitchen without looking back. You knew that you’d throw up if you did; not because of Jack and Mrs. Unforgettable, but because of the pity stares you knew people were giving you. It sucked.

You also knew that if you stayed inside the house for too long, you’d end up drunk and pissed off. And you didn’t want that. So you did the only thing that you knew would put your mind in the right place again: going to the lake.

You walked outside, feeling the cold breeze hit your face and legs and arms and— everywhere, really. You should have worn a sweatshirt, but now it was too late to go back. You’d rather turn into a popsicle than to go back there and watch that again.

Sitting on the dock, you watched the lake in front of you, listening to the sounds of insects and trees moving. It was a nice view, but probably nicer in the summer. Right now it just looked like a Criminal Minds crime scene.

Lost in thoughts, you didn’t hear the steps coming from behind you. “You’re gonna get sick.”

Letting out a scream, you turned around, facing Quinn, who was wearing a pilot costume, with a scowl on your face.

“Sweet Jesus, Quinn, what the hell,” you put your hand on your barely covered chest, taking a deep breath. “Don’t you know how to, I don’t know, make noise while you walk?”

“I did that, actually, you just didn’t hear it,” he sat down beside you, handing you a Canucks sweatshirt. “Thought you’d get cold.”

You smiled, thanking him and putting it on, trying not to ruin your hair and makeup.

“Thank you, Quinn. That’s nice. Go Canucks!” You raised your hand, making a fist bump, hearing his soft chuckle beside you. You sighed. “I don’t know if you’re here to try to make me feel better or anything like that, but you don’t have to. I’m fine, really.”

“I’m just here because you needed a sweater and because it’s kinda creepy to be here alone. Nothing else, I promise.”

You looked at him, once again surprised with the Hughes men. But then, they were raised by Ellen, so you shouldn’t really be surprised.

You nodded, choosing not to say anything, just feeling the breeze on your face, a million thoughts in your head.

Now what? What would you even say to Jack? Hey, yeah, I know that when we started this we said that we didn’t want to fall in love but guess what! I’m in love with you.

And what would he even say to you? It wasn’t his fault he didn’t like you back. He’d probably say something like yeah, you fucked up our arrangement now I’ll have to find someone else to fuck every week. You were fun, though! and move on with his life.

And you’d move on with yours, just like you did before. The thing is, you didn’t want to move on again. You spent five years into your twenties trying to move on from things and it was tiring as hell. Moving on from broken friendships? Tiring. Moving on from toxic people? Tiring. Moving on from your cheater boyfriend? Tiring and humiliating.

You were pulled from your thoughts by Quinn throwing rocks at the lake, laughing when he couldn’t make them float like he intended to. He looked at you with that tired expression of his, and smiled back.

“Great album, by the way,” he blurted out of nowhere.

You frowned. “Thank you, I guess. Did someone leak it?”

“No,” he laughed, shortly. “Jack talked about it in our family group chat a while ago. Ma asked about you and he went on rambling about it, which was really funny. He was like, putting on his uniform before practice and recording a voice note at the same time, which he never does. And then he went full rambling about all of the songs and how shitty your ex was. Sorry about that,”

You looked at Quinn like he had grown two more heads, four more arms and five more legs. You had no idea Jack talked about your songs with his family. At all.

You wanted to ask more about it to Quinn so bad but you were kinda scared about what you were going to hear in response. Does Jack talk about me?

About you? Yeah, and a lot of other girls too.

“Sure,” you mumbled. “Yeah, Harris was a dick,”

“I liked some of his movies but now he’s banned from my watchlist forever.” Quinn announced like the statement didn’t make your heart break and mend at the same time, his tone calm and distant. “It’s good that you found something to channel your pain though. I do that a lot during my games.”

“Singing for me is like breathing. I’ve done it since I was, like, eight or even younger,” you nodded to yourself, looking at the stars above you. “This album means a lot to me, in a lot of ways. So thank you for telling me this.” You smiled, not sure if he could see it. He was also looking at the stars.

“Don’t need to say ‘thank you’. You have a gift, Sophia. I hope you know that,” he stretched himself, yawning and wrapping his arms around his middle. “I wish I could write songs but I suck at that.”

“Why do you sound like you’ve tried that already?” You smirked, fucking with him.

Or at least you thought you were, because Quinn went quiet, which confirmed your suspicions.

“What!” You looked at him, throwing your arms up. “Have you written songs before?”

“I was thirteen, okay? I just thought that maybe if I didn’t make it to the NHL, I could at least be a rapper or something.” He shrugged, again, which only made you start laughing. “I know, it’s funny. Thankfully, I made it to the NHL.”

“I don’t know, it’d be great to make a song with you,” you said, playfully, before realising something. “Oh my God, Quinn. That’s what I need!”

“What?” He smirked. “Make a song with me? I don’t think that’s a great idea—”

“No, not a song with you. Just a song. I need to write,” You nodded to yourself, getting up and fixing your skirt with your hands. “Do you think I could get a cab here? I came with Jack and I think he’s…” you bit your lip. Focus. Write the song; it will all be better. “Busy. And Grace needs to have her fun, too. She’s been working nonstop.”

“A cab? Soph, it’s like midnight,” he got up, too, standing in front of you. “I can take you home. It’s no biggie.”

“What? No! Enjoy the party! I’ll just try to catch an Uber or something.” You went to grab your phone, just to remember that you left it at the cabin. “Ugh, fuck, I need to go inside again.”

“I will take you home, no need for Ubers or anything like that. Just tell me where your things are and I’ll pick them up for you. I’ll talk to Grace on my way there.” He affirmed, walking with you towards the cabin, the loud music slowly filling up your ears again.

“That’s… so nice,” you breathed, more grateful than you’d like to admit. “Thank you, Quinn, seriously. I owe you.”

“It’s fine,” he replied, hands in his pockets. “Wait a second here, please.”

You did, and it wasn’t long until he showed up with your backpack, your phone and a very worried Grace beside him.

“Girl, what the hell?” She yelled, probably not even realizing how loud she sounded. “I’ve been looking for you like crazy and out of nowhere Quinn shows up with your stuff, saying he will get you home.”

“I have to write a song.” You reasoned, raising your shoulders.

Grace stared at you for what felt like forever, until she pressed her lips on your forehead and sighed. “Alright. I’m not even going to ask. Be safe, please, and remember that I’m only a phone call away.”

“Thank you, I love you.” You kissed her back, following Quinn on the way to his car, not bothering to look back.

Jack was probably busy anyway.

— ♡

HANDS around the guitar, you replayed the same melody you’ve been playing for five hours straight now.

You arrived home at one thirty in the morning, and even though you were awfully tired, you had to get the lyrics, the feelings, the emotions out of you. Fuck sleeping.

You offered your guest room for Quinn but he just shook his head, saying that he’d crash at his parents’. You made him call you when he arrived there so you knew he was safe, which he promptly did.

After that, you made yourself tea and sat in your home studio, writing obsessively. It had been a long time since the last time you had a song practically written in your head, and honestly, you couldn’t tell if that was good or not.

What you knew, though, is that now, five hours later, seven a.m. in the morning, you had a song. Bad for Business. You sent it to your producer and Grace before laying on your bed and drifting away immediately, the exhaustion taking over you.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x oc #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes x singer!fmc #jack hughes x singer!reader #jack hughes smut #IYLMLMK

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mx-pastelwriting · 2 years ago

Text

MHA Heroes HC - How They'd React Bruises on Reader after a night.

Heroes x GN! Reader

Summary: Heroes reaction to bruises on reader after a night of sex.

Warnings: Light Mentions of past sex acts, Bruising on Reader, Fluff, Established Relationship

Characters: Endeavor (Enji Todoroki), Gang Orca (Kugo Sakamata), Eraserhead (Shota Aizawa), Vlad King (Sekijiro Kan), Fat Gum (Taishiro Toyomitsu)

Minors do not interact!

Endeavor (Enji Todoroki)

-Wouldn't notice until the morning, when you are still sleeping off the night's events.

-When he does notice them, he softly traces them; he kind of likes them, though he quickly changes his tune when you groan at the pain when you start to wake.

-You had bruises on your hips and thighs; some might have some surface burn as well, as Enji can get a little wild.

-Aftercare he takes very seriously. He makes sure you're comfortable in bed and gets you ice packs wrapped in a thin towel.

"Thank you," you say quietly, the pain lessened by the coolness. Enji hadn't apologized, but you didn't want him to because the night had been incredible and there was nothing you could ask him to do differently.

You did appreciate that he took the day off to cuddle you in bed, just in case the ice packs were too much. "I love you," he whispers into your shoulder skin as he lays his head. You place yours on top and say, "I love you too", His arm is wrapped softly around your waist so as not to disturb your nerves. Furthermore, you knew he was somewhat sorry for putting you in pain, but the imprint on your skin made his mind swirl with heat.

Gang Orca (Kugo Sakamata)

-Would notice as he's getting ready for work and him taking care of you would wake you.

-Apologizing every minute as he places an ice packs on your hips and arm.

-Would ask if anything else hurts; if the answer is yes, he would melt into the floor with guilt, but after reassuring him you're not dying, you would both laugh it off.

-He would call off work against your wishes; he would take care of you the whole day, helping you to the bathroom, but you reminded him you weren't glass.

"How badly does it hurt, angel?" Kugo gently asks his hand to hold yours. You smiled and shook your head; you weren’t dying, but he made it seem so. "Kugo, it's fine." "It's not fine, Angelfish; I hurt you." His voice was filled with guilt. "Yes, but you didn't mean to." Trying to clam him was an easy task, but you placed your hand on his face, hoping to get him to drop it. "Okay, but let me know if you need anything," he says, snuggling closer to you. He pulled you gently close to him, having you lay on his chest and hear his now calm heartbeat.

Eraserhead (Shota Aizawa)

-Would notice after he gets home from work and sees you walking funny.

-Asks if you're okay, and you show him his work on you, he goes into caring mode, asking if you’re okay and why didn't you tell him.

-After explaining yourself, he would have you sit down to rest, he would cook dinner, and have you resting up with blankets cuddling you.

-Going to bed, he would gently cuddle you, wondering if he should call into work tomorrow to get the day off, but you begged to have him decide in the morning.

His hand gently wraps around your shoulder to your back, not wanting to touch the bruises that mark your waist and thighs. "Tell me if anything hurts," he whispers, but all he gets from you is a quiet hum. You dig your head into his chest, hearing his soft heartbeat and breathing.

Through the night, you wake up to his phone ringing. Aizawa groans as he shifts, bumping into your thigh. You whine at the pain, causing him to jump up and say, "I'm sorry, where did I hurt you?" He says in a panic, "It's fine, just answer the phone." You grumble, though you're not upset at him, just at the ringing noise of the phone. He answers and gets up shortly after ending the call, and you watch with tired eyes as he's getting ready. "I'll be back in an hour, I love you, and don't move," he says, giving you a quick kiss and heading off, leaving you to fall back asleep in a now cold bed.

Vlad King (Sekijiro Kan)

-Would notice getting ready for work; as soon as he sees the bruises that litter your hips and shoulders, he wakes you with cries of asking you if you're okay.

-Yes he was rough in bed, but he always made sure you were okay. Seeing this made him a puddle on the floor.

-As you wake, you have to reassure him you're okay, just sore, but before you can say you'll be fine while he's gone, he calls into work.

-He would make you breakfast, fluff up some pillows to make you comfortable, and run you a bath after you eat.

"Thank you, love," you say in a tired voice as you take the small table of food in your lap. "And I'll run you a warm bath after too," he says, sitting down next to you and having his own food. "Can you join me?" You ask, but his face says something other than excitement: "I'm afraid I'll hurt you, hon." His voice sounded like he was fighting back tears: "It's okay, you will make me feel better, please." He thinks it over for a minute and nods, going back to his breakfast.

All Might (Toshinori Yagi) -Works for small & big

-Would see in the middle of the night coming back from the bathroom.

-He would lay back in bed but keep his distance, then call into work to get the day off. He's never done this before, so he's a bit scared.

-When you wake up, you notice the bruising on your hips and ribs. The pain would come every time you moved, but Toshinori was there to help and bring food.

-He would have helped you change into something decent as of last night had you not. A lot of apologies would have been given, but your words calmed them down.

Toshinori moved with panic as he took the empty plate from you. "Thank you, Toshi," you say warmly, but he just gave a small smile before his eyes went to your bruises. Noticing you cover them up with the blankets, you didn't mind his getting rough in bed; maybe you even liked it, but you hated how he looked at you like you were broken.

"Come sit" You say he's patting the bed; he slowly sits, but far from you. You painfully move closer to him, but he still keeps his distance. "Please come closer; I feel like I'm the plague," you say with a hurt laugh. He does gently put a hand on your thigh, letting you put your head on his shoulder and watch TV.

Fat Gum (Taishiro Toyomitsu) -Works for big & small

-Would notice as he comes in with breakfast in bed for you, the covers are moved, letting him see them in the morning light.

-It covered your hips and back; he woke you gently, but he was about to cry seeing you groan in pain.

-Putting the table on your lap like he always does on his day off. He asks if you're okay and points to the bruises that you now notice.

-He would cuddle you up with blankets while you and him ate to enjoy your morning shows, though he would keep a close eye on you.

Eating your food, you would feel Taishiro's eyes on you; it made you squirm where you sat. Looking at him, he smiles at you as you take another bit of his food. "Is it that bad?" you ask with a worried look on your face, but he quickly turns into protective mode. "No, not at all. I just never thought I would go that hard on you." He sighs, you go soft, "I enjoyed last night, please; I don't want this to stop you." You reassure him, and he smiles, "It's not, sweetheart, but if you like it that way, then does tomorrow night sound good?" He flirts, you blush, and you give him a kiss.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is any grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

♥ mx-pastelwriting does not consent to their work being copied, translated, or reposted on any other platform without permission.

#endeavour x reader #enji todoroki x reader #gang orca x reader #kugo sakamata x reader #eraserhead x reader #aizawa shota x reader #shota aizawa x reader #vlad king x reader #sekijiro kan x reader #all might x reader #toshinori yagi x reader #fat gum x reader #taishiro toyomitsu x reader #mha headcanons #mha heroes x reader

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jockwrites · 3 months ago

Text

LUST - p.b

warnings: smut, (over 20 asks for smut.) cursing, drinking, straight people

part: 3 (last part)

a/n: this prob bad and i didn’t proof read so lmk ok bye im gonna go ahead and post this

two months. that’s how long it’s been since the last time you’ve spoken to paige.

since she left that night, you can’t say it’s been better, but you’re definitely learning how to prioritize yourself.

the way she hurt you did enough damage, and the guilt she left within you made your blood boil.

but you can’t deny you miss her, because you do.

besides that, you’ve seemed to find yourself within the time period between the breakup.

you dyed your hair blonde, got the belly piercing you’ve been wanting, & you’ve started to get your nails & hair done more often.

to you, life has been great.

but the only thing that’s missing is your girl.

the girl who made you feel special, loved, prioritized.

but you have to accept the fact that she’s gone, and you’ve been coping with it.

besides all of that, tonight you’re going to a “night out” event at a local bar. sounds risky, but you need it after everything you’ve been through these last few months.

as you shower, washing out the dirt that’s been accumulating in your hair, you hear an incoming call from your best friend.

you open the shower door, water dripping from your arms as you go to answer it.

“i’m in the shower lilly what do you want.” you speak, annoyed.

“who the hell pissed in your cereal,” she asks, giggling, “but anyway what’re you wearing honey bun”

“well if you would’ve let me shower and actually figure out what i wanna wear then i could’ve given you a proper answer.”

“chill outtt jeez but ok. also paige is going”

“and how do you know this creep?”

“welll.. it was kinda on my for you page..?”

“why is she on your for you page to begin with?”

“ok not the point. but supposedly she’s going because of her brand deal with madison reed to celebrate something.. like i actually have no idea but look your best and make the bitch jealous ok byeee enjoy your shower,” she rambled.

after she hangs up, you immediately turn off the shower & get out to dry off.

you have to look perfect tonight.

you dry yourself, looking in the mirror as you wonder how you’ll pull this off. you know damn well you wanna see her.

you walk out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around you as you go to check your closet for outfits.

you grab your phone, calling your best friend to find opinions on what to wear.

“heyyyy girl are you in a good mood now?” she grinned over the phone.

“ok so not funny, also can you help me with what im gonna wear?”

“of course i’m literally like a fashion designer.”

“ok so, maybe not that but whatever helps you sleep at night!” you giggled.

“ok anyway, try on the outfits bitch i wanna see them.” she squealed.

“okok, give me a second.”

you proceed to look through your closet, finding a orange, short dress.

“is this cute?” you ask your friend, showing it to your friend over the phone.

“omg yes!! try it on now.”

you let out a laugh, taking your towel off to try on the dress.

you step into it, pulling it up as you fondle with the straps.

“okay, how do i look?” you smiled.

“so. fucking. good.” she complimented.

“okay don’t make my ego high, but wanna see the other dress?” you giggle.

“yes!! please.”

“okay girl okay” you replied.

you find another dress, purple, short, tight, & lacy.

again, you mimic your actions earlier and show it to your friend over the phone.

“ok, how’s this?”

“GORGEOUS. try it on. now.”

“okay creep.” you insulted.

you try on the dress, not really liking it. but of course, you let your friend put her 2 cents in on it.

“i don’t really like it but what do you-”

“yes. wear that. NOW. wear. it.” she nagged.

“holy shit, okay. but are you sure it looks good?”

“i said wear the damn dress!”

────────────────────────

you sit down to do your makeup, going for a sleek, not too much look.

“i know you wanna see paige tonight.” says your friend over the phone.

you grab your concealer out of your makeup bag, rolling your eyes at her idiotic but true statement.

“and if i did? who would it hurt?” you asked groggily as you pat the concealer on your under-eye.

“well, not saying it’d hurt me, but might hurt you. but what do i know, you know?” she says sarcastically.

“okay lilly.” you sass, adding your final touches to your makeup with powder and mascara.

“should i wear pearls or diamonds?”

“diamonds.”

“gold or silver?”

“silver duh.”

“kk thanks pookie, im gonna go though, text me when you’re ready! bye honey.” you hang up.

after you hang up the phone, you grab your curling iron to add extras touches to your hair. you wanna look perfect tonight.

after you’re all finished getting ready, you grab your keys and head out.

you get in your car and get a notification from your phone.

“Paige💕 just added a new post to their story!”

ironic.

it’s a picture of her and brittany, her fashion designer or whatever.

you roll your eyes, turning on your car. as you pull out, you get ready for whatever’s in store tonight.

────────────────────────

you pull into the parking lot of the bar, noticing a familiar car. it’s her car.

you walk in and the first thing you notice is your best friend, lilly.

she runs over to you, giddy and grinning.

“oh my gosh you made it finally! i was like so bored and also i seen paige and she looked at me weird like bitch-” she rambled, under the influence.

“lilly, calm down. where is she?” you ask, grinning.

“she’s over there i think, she was talking to some girl. it wasn’t her cousin,” she air quoted, “some other girl. i don’t know her though.. but how are you pookie,” she giggled.

“some other girl,” you ask, genuinely confused.

“girl enough about her! can we grab some drinks please??” she pouts.

“i guess lillian,” you laugh.

“yay!” she cheered as she grabbed you by your arm to get drinks.

you walk with her to the bar, asking the bartender for a dirty shirley. paige’s favorite.

she technically put you on, they’re so good.

“thank you,” you gesture to the bartender after receiving your drink.

“so you gonna talk to paige?” lilly asks, slurring every word.

“i won’t talk to her unless she talks to me,” you roll your eyes.

“well, speak of the devil she’s walking over here!” she bursts.

you turn your head, seeing paige walking over.

“ok im going to find a boyfriend or something ill leave you two to whatever this is bye!” she squealed.

as your friend leaves, paige approaches.

“hey.. how you been? you look.. hella different,” paige tells you, looking you up and down.

“is that a compliment?” you roll your eyes.

“yeah, you look good as fuck.” she licks her lips, her eyes locked on your figure in your dress.

“why are you over here again?” you sassed.

“i just wanted to know wassup with you. i miss you man, i know i fucked up.” she looked down, ashamed.

“so why’d you do it?” you ask, sipping your drink.

“listen, it was a mistake. ion know if you’d be able to forgive me but im dead serious, i- i didn’t mean it. i was speaking out of anger.” she stuttered.

she seems so genuine, there’s no way you won’t be able to forgive her.

“we all make mistakes. i just don’t understand why you’d do me like that, seriously. after everything? really?” you asked, perplexed.

“i know, i know. but im for real, you the only girl i want. do you know how many times i’ve thought about you today? yesterday? last week? i can’t get you off my mind.” she expressed.

“i met a girl about a week ago,” you admitted, “nothing like you. they’ll never be like you paige, no matter who i meet.” you let out a breathy laugh, knowing there’s 100% truth to your words.

paige grabs you up from your seat, pulling you by your waist to her chest.

“everything’s okay, im here now. and if it’s okay with you, i wanna be here tomorrow to. i wanna be here everyday, with you and only you.” she promised.

you wanna kiss her, but with the fame she has itll be on tiktok in 30 minutes.

shes thinking exactly what you’re thinking, and with the thoughts you two are sharing, she pulls you toward the bathroom.

just like when you two first met.

when she pulls you into the bathroom, she locks the door behind you two.

you bite back a moan as she pushes you against the wall, sucking on the soft spot of your neck.

“i missed this. fuck, i missed you.” she spoke hungrily against your neck, her voice raspy.

“fuck, paige i missed you too. so much,” you breathed, needy for her touch.

“you want me to fuck you in this bathroom?” she huffed as she pulled up the hem of your dress.

“fuck. of course i do,” you gasped. the sudden gesture catching you off guard.

“mm, i know you do.” she groans as she sinks to her knees, pulling down your panties.

she looks up at you before placing her tongue flat against your clit.

no warning, just getting straight into it.

you throw your head back into the wall, the ecstasy of her tongue arousing you.

“oh fuck paige, just like that, shit,” you whimpered loudly, raking through her hair as she works her magic below you.

your hips buck against her face, her tongue swirling around your clit. you’re starting to get dizzy from all the overstimulation.

she sucks on your clit, lapping her tongue in your folds.

her tongue flicks against your clitoris, making your breath hitch.

she grabs your calves, holding your legs in place while she eats you out driving you senseless.

“stay still,” she whispered against your pussy, the vibration driving you insane.

she dips her tongue inside you, gripping your thighs desperately.

“fuck, paige i’m trying-” she slides her tongue up your pussy, leaving a line of spit as she inserts two fingers inside you, cutting you off.

“holy shit, i’m gonna cum,” you grunted.

“do it, right here,” she rasped out, sucking on your clit eagerly.

she speeds up the motion of her fingers inside you, curling them as she hits the exact spot to make you cum.

she continues to lap at your pussy, sucking on your clit constantly.

“shit baby, you taste so good,” she moans against you.

as you clench against her fingers, she removes them.

she continues to pleasure you with her tongue, making up for the loss of her fingers.

“paige, fuck! i’m gonna cum,” you cried out, your knees going limp.

you finally reach your climax, your body coated in a thin sheen of sweat. the time slows down for you, your pulse beating faster and faster as your vision goes static.

paige looks dead in your eyes, pulling herself back up.

“i don’t wanna lose you again, i love you,” she whispers against your neck, pushing your hair behind your left ear.

“paige,” you breathe, your chest heaving. “i don’t wanna lose you again either. i love you,” you profess.

“good,” she kisses you, cupping your cheeks as you taste yourself in her mouth.

after the intense sex and encounter, you try to freshen yourself up by fixing your dress & hair.

“stop, you look perfect,” she calmed you.

“we can go back out now? how long have we been in here?” you giggle.

“it’s alright baby, i got it.”

as you two walk out, you realized the party kinda died down.

paige looks down at you, smirk apparent on her face.

“you tryna go home so i can show you something?” she grins.

“that’s a crazy question, duh.”

a/n: i finally finished this holy crap. anyway hope you guys enjoyed i can’t write long smut so this is all you get until i learn how to properly write it 😞 ok bye thanks for waiting bc my asks are horrid and you guys rushed me to finish this :-| also not proof read i don’t feel like it ahahah…………

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #wcbb #paige bueckers smut #paige x reader #angst #paige bueckers angst

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cuddlyeren · 22 days ago

Text

Meet My Girlfriend!

(Not clickbait)

—————————————————————

Hamzah leaned back in his chair, staring at the blank YouTube title box. His cursor blinked impatiently.

He sighed, running a hand through his curly hair. “Alright,” he muttered to himself. “Let’s rip the bandage off.”

In bold letters, he typed: “Meet My Girlfriend (not clickbait).”

A soft laugh escaped him, the irony of it all hitting him at once. For years, he had carefully cultivated a persona of the charming, funny, and very much single guy online. Fans loved him for it shipping him with their own imaginations, leaving cheeky comments like, “Hamzah, you’re my future husband, you just don’t know it yet!” or “Stay single forever!”

But now… things were about to change.

“Babe, are you sure you’re ready for this?” Y/N’s voice floated from the doorway.

Hamzah turned to see her leaning against the frame, dressed in one of his oversized hoodies. She looked nervous, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. It wasn’t like her to be unsure—one of the many things he loved about her was her confidence.

“Yes” he said, standing up and walking over to her. “I mean, I don’t want to hide you anymore. I’m tired of pretending like you don’t exist in my life when you’re the best part of it.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “That’s a cheesy line.”

“Cheesy, but true,” he said, placing a hand on her cheek. “Listen, I know my fans are intense… Some of them might not take it well, but I want them to know the real me. And the real me is crazy about you.”

Her smile softened, but her eyes still carried doubt. “What if they hate me?”

“They won’t,” Hamzah said firmly. “And even if some do, they’ll get over it. I’m not going to let a few people’s opinions stop me from showing you off.”

Y/N exhaled, her resolve solidifying. “Okay. Let’s do it. But if this ruins your career, you’re not allowed to blame me.”

Hamzah grinned. “Deal.”

———

The next day, the internet buzzed with speculation.

Hamzah had tweeted:

Big news dropping tomorrow. 👀

In minutes, his fans were in a frenzy:

• “HE’S RELEASING MERCH, I KNOW IT!”

• “Collab with friends ? Please say it’s chase and Claire !”

• “WHAT IF IT’S A GIRLFRIEND??? 😱”

By the time the video premiered, his audience was practically vibrating with anticipation.

The screen lit up with Hamzah sitting in his usual filming spot, a goofy grin on his face. “Alright, guys, I know you’re all dying to know what the big news is, so I won’t drag it out too long. But first…” He leaned closer to the camera, lowering his voice dramatically. “How are you doing? You good? Hydrated? Alright, cool.”

He straightened up, his expression softening. “So, here’s the thing. You guys have been with me through everything—my first awkward videos, my cringe TikTok dances, my horrible attempts at cooking. You’re like family to me. And because of that, I think it’s time I introduce you to someone really special.”

The comments exploded immediately:

• “OH MY GOD IT’S HAPPENING.”

• “WAIT, WHAT?!?”

• “He’s trolling us… right??”

Hamzah chuckled, glancing off-camera. “Y/N, you ready?” He extends his hand signaling to y/n that she could come now

A moment later, Y/N walked into the frame, smiling nervously. She waved. “Hi, everyone!”

The comments came faster than either of them could read:

• “SHE’S SO PRETTY OMG.”

• “Wait, who is this???”

• “Not my parasocial relationship crumbling rn.”

“This is Y/N,” Hamzah said, his voice full of warmth. “My girlfriend. And before you freak out—yes, I’ve been keeping this a secret for a while. Not because I didn’t want you to know, but because I wanted to protect her from… well, you know how some of y’all can be.”

Y/N laughed nervously, and Hamzah squeezed her hand.

The video continued with them sharing how they met and answering some lighthearted questions. But as the comments poured in, it became clear that not everyone was thrilled.

Later that night, as Hamzah scrolled through Twitter, he sighed. “Well, the fans are… divided.”

Y/N peered over his shoulder. Among the supportive messages were tweets like:

• “Heartbroken. Never trusting men again.”

• “Unsubscribed. You ruined my fantasy, Hamzah.”

But then there were others:

• “Y/N seems sweet. I’m happy for you, Hamzah!”

• “As long as you keep posting funny videos, I don’t care who you date.”

He looked at Y/N, who was reading the tweets with an unreadable expression. “Hey,” he said softly, turning her face toward him. “Are you okay?”

She hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. It’s a lot, but I’ll survive. As long as you’re by my side.”

Hamzah smiled, pulling her into a hug. “Always.”

—-

Inspired by Mandy’s recent YT Video and everyone saying that he has a gf😭 hope yall liked my first fic…

#hamzahsmut #hamzah fluff #hamzah angst #martin and hamzah #hamzah fic #hamzah x reader #hamzah x y/n #hamzah imagines #hamzahthefantastic #hamzah #hamzahthefanatasticxreader #slushy noobz #slushy virus #fanfic

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yxtubers · 1 year ago

Text

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬

matt sturniolo x reader (fluff)

summary: you accidentally reveal to matt’s stream that you’re his s/o

warnings/notes: none (?)

requested?: yes

> > >

Matt had been huddled up in his room all day playing games with Nick and Chris. After being cooped up inside for the first half of the day, the boys had nothing to eat - so you kindly offered to bring them some takeout on your way there.

Chris eventually fled to the living room, bidding goodbye to the stream they began, and leaving Nick and Matt to continue playing in their respective rooms.

Unlocking the door to their apartment you were met with Chris’ excited yelps as he runs towards you. He practically steals the food from your arms and sprints to the kitchen.

“So much for a ‘hello, thank you for feeding me!’” you joke as you hold onto the drinks you bought them. Placing the cans onto the counter, you split the food and give Chris his share.

“Thank you for feeding me!” he yells behind him as he ran to sit on the couch. Rolling your eyes, you divided Nick, yours, and Matt’s food also. You take your shoes off and leave them in the hallway before walking to Chris and plopping onto the couch next to him. He was watching some American version of ‘Love Island’ that Nick recommended him.

Since it wasn’t of much interest to you, you get up to let him to eat his dinner in peace.

“I’m gonna go bring Matt’s food up - do you mind letting Nick know his is on the counter?” you said.

All you got was a mumble of agreement from him. Deciding that’s as good as you’re gonna get, you take the brown bag of food upstairs. What Chris had forgotten to mention was that Matt was on stream currently. With his camera on.

It’s not that the viewers didn’t know who you were, or that you hated being on camera. However, your relationship with Matt was kept away from the public eye - and you both wanted to keep it that way.

You knock on his door and wait for his response before walking in. He has his headphones on, clicking random buttons and yelling at Nick to heal him.

“I brought you food,” you say as you placed it on his bed, throwing his can of root beer next to it.

“You’re a Godsend, thank you,” he says, turning away from his computer to look at you.

“Hey,” he mumbles upon seeing you, cheeks tinted pink.

You were out of shot, but the viewers recognize your voice in an instant. The chat fills with people speculating why Matt was blushing so hard, and people commenting how cute it was that you bought him dinner.

All of this was completely unbeknownst to you, as you still thought he was just playing with his brother on call.

Matt rolls his chair over to grab his beverage and the bag of takeout. Walking away from him, you look around the room.

“If you’re not too busy can you help me look for my sweater? I think I left it here last night,” you say absentmindedly as you opened his closet.

At this, the comments went crazy.

Matt’s eyes widened. He looks at the screen, and then at you, and then at the chat. The comments were flying in at 120mph, with people typing in all caps.

Various messages were sent from: ‘I knew it!’ to ‘WHAT’ to complete and utter shock and chaos. Matt bursts out laughing as one in particular caught his eye - ‘MOM AND DAD’.

“What’s so funny?” you quip, raising your eyebrow, “you want your girlfriend to freeze to death?”

At this point there was no going back. No way in hell was there a way to cover that up.

Matt guilty looks up at you, gesturing to the screen.

“I’m live,” he says plainly.

“Oh.”

He holds his hand out to you and you take it, moving into the camera’s view. You wave.

“Hi guys!”

You look over at the chat and you’re surprised to see many supportive comments. ‘This is so cute’ - ‘Dying rn’ - ‘We knew’. Your face turns hot as you look down at your boyfriend, completely bewildered.

“I’m sorry I forgot to tell you,” Matt whispers.

You shake your head, kissing the top of his hair. “It’s okay, they were bound to find out soon enough.”

And with that, you say goodbye to the stream and sneak back downstairs to bring Nick his food; you knew Chris would forget to.

The rest of the stream was filled with Nick telling the comments to get over themselves, and Matt blushing each time your name was mentioned.

Maybe being public wouldn’t be so bad.

- - -

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@lollibumblebee

@dwntwn-strnlo

@gracietaylorsversions

@20nugs

@thetriplets3

@stxrniqlo

@sunshinewwx

@gwenlore

@gabbylovesreading

@ssturniolo

@opheliaofficial07

#matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets x reader #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you

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piningforstan · 4 months ago

Text

Memories

Part One | Part Two

Summary: You’re relieved to see your husband alive, but you have yet to learn at what cost.

Pairings: Stan Pines x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: memory loss, it’s a bittersweet fic (let me know if there’s anything else)

A/N: I could honestly stay in this story forever. I hope you enjoy! (If you don’t think the small attempts bits of humor are funny, just do me a favor and pretend like they are)

Life moved on, of course, even though it felt like yours had ended. The town needed rebuilding. Newspapers and media outlets needed to be dealt with — Ford recommended telling reporters that there had been a series of animal attacks. But most townsfolk just wanted to forget. The lasting effects of the memory gun meant they preferred to just pretend like nothing happened.

You busied yourself however you could, clearing fallen brush and trees, reuniting families, making do with whatever food you could find and cooking for anyone who hungered.

And when you weren’t focused on resurrecting the infrastructure of Gravity Falls, you focused on doing it for your family. Dipper had withdrawn inside himself. Mabel practically resided in Sweater Town. And Ford largely made himself scarce as he puzzled out ideas for getting Stan’s memory back. So you invited Dipper to join you for nonsensical errands and you laughed your way through Mabel’s favorite movies and you always made sure that Ford had something to eat.

You had time for everyone, it seemed, but Stan.

He floated along the edges of your day to day life, suspended in a state of limbo — wanting to participate but not knowing whether his presence would be tolerable or not. And you didn’t want to provoke his already weakened mental state so you let him be, an observer to a family that he had been the nucleus of.

“Oh, uh, mornin’.”

You were sitting at the kitchen table, staring at nothing in particular when Stan shuffled in, donned in his boxers and wife beater. It ached to see him how you had so many other mornings. Perhaps that’s why you avoided him; to do so was easier than confronting this pain.

“Stan. Good morning.” You sat up a little straighter. “Coffee is made already.”

He grumbled his thanks. You noticed that he grabbed his favorite mug, one Soos bought him that stated WORLD’S GREATEST FARTER, without thinking. There were small, fleeting moments like this that made you believe that he might regain his memory. But they often slipped away, just like Stan clearing his throat and saying, “So, uh, we’re married?”

“Yes,” you said, inhaling sharply. “Thirty years.”

Stan wrapped one large hand around the mug. He let out a whistle as he reclined back on the counter. “No offense sweetheart, but that doesn’t speak highly of your intelligence.”

You can’t help it. You croaked out a laugh. “No, no it doesn’t.”

“How’d I do it?”

“Do what?”

“Keep ya around for thirty years.” He gestured in your general direction, veritably flustered. “I don’t need to ‘member much about myself to know you’re too good for me.”

“Well, you could be very convincing,” you supplied after a moment of consideration.

Stan scoffed. “Bullshit. What’s the real reason?”

You eyed him, then said in a resigned voice, “A wife can’t testify in court against her husband.”

A beat of silence ensued, followed by the loudest belly laugh of anyone you’ve ever known. Stan clutched at his chest, coffee spilling over his mug and onto the floor. He all but wheezed out, “I knew it!“

“It was my idea, actually,” you said, smiling fondly at the memory, “we had only gone out a few times when it happened. You wanted to make a run for it. Even though we hadn’t known each other long I already knew that I didn’t want to go a day without you. So we got hitched at the courthouse and the case was dismissed on account that I was the only eye witness.”

You were surprised to discover that relaying the story brought you more comfort than sadness. It fanned the dying ember of hope inside you.

Stan processed this information. “What was the crime? Must’ve been bad.”

“If I told you ‘stealing my heart’ would you believe me?”

“I’d believe you’re a shitty liar.”

Stan pestered you for an answer but you staunchly refused to give it to him, if only to prolong the conversation even more. Eventually you lapsed into a comfortable silence, but after thirty years of marriage, you knew that Stan hadn’t given up, rather reconsidered his angle. It wouldn’t be the end of that conversation.

Only the dredges of your coffee remained but you sipped it every now and then, taking the time to study Stan when you didn’t think he noticed.

Did he realize that he remembered more than he thought? Like the mug, for instance. The way he stood. How he moved around the kitchen. How much did the memory gun erase? You read once that memories consisted of just the last time you remembered something — a great portion of your life would pass without recollection. But the feelings stayed the same. You might not remember specific moments of your mother being kind to you, but when you looked at her your chest swelled with affection for her.

Was that how Stan felt now? Wading through residual feelings and sentiments without the memories to attach them to?

“Listen, uh.” Stan rubbed the back of his neck. “I know this is weird ‘tween us. But I-I hope we can be friends. Still. If you want.”

Hopefully your expression did not betray the stab of pain in your heart. “I’d like that.”

Apparently, rebuilding your friendship with your husband meant him “Stan-napping” you.

“If it’s Stan-napping wouldn’t that mean you’re the one being —”

He flapped his hand. “Shhh, shhh, shhh.”

You grinned and slid into the front seat of El Diablo like normal. Gum wrappers scattered the ground at your feet, along with a lighter and several cassette tapes. You inserted one, faint rock music playing from the radio. A laugh escaped you. “Remember when —”

You stopped. Stan smiled sadly.

“It’s a’right. Promise. Tell me anyway.”

And so you did, retelling the story as best as you could in detail. Stan listened intently as he drove, interjecting his own comments and questions, laughing at all of the parts you knew he would. The tape had played on repeat during a week that you spent running a con in Arizona. An unsuccessful one at that.

“You really did all that w’me? Now I really don’t trust the likes of ya.” Stan drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the door with his elbow out the side.

“In my defense, I was always more of a reluctant volunteer.” You focused on the trees flying past, silhouetting Stan’s handsome features and his easy smile. “But I would follow you anywhere.”

It’s an embarrassing admission.

You stumbled over your words, but Stan was quick to cover for you. “So I didn’t need to Stan-nap you?”

“No, but I’m still glad you did.”

“And to think, all of the work I put into it.” Stan feigned clutching his chest in indignation.

You snickered. “By all of the work do you mean withholding caffeine from me until I agreed? That was more of a hindrance than anything. I would’ve said yes much faster with coffee.”

“Noted. Anything else I should know?”

“I can also be persuaded with chocolate.”

Stan mock-glared at you. Whenever he spoke, he used his hands in big gestures, emphasizing whatever point he was making. “Wait, wait, wait. Chocolate? What happened to followin’ me anywhere?”

“I’m just saying it helps,” you told him.

For the duration of the ride you regaled him with whatever tale that came to mind. Eventually the trees thinned out and the lake came into view, water shimmering. An outcropping of cliffs hugged one side of the lake, extending an almost natural awning over the small hut Stan parked in front of. Picnic tables dotted the sparsely grassy area and families darted in and out from between them, children laughing with sticky faces and parents chasing after them waving napkins.

“Ice cream?” You climbed out of the car, the door swinging shut behind you.

Stan watched the children with soft fondness, making faces at them as they passed. Together you walked down the worn path to the counter manned by a pimpled teenager.

“Ford said I should do things I used to like to try and jog my memory,” Stan said. He peered at the menu — 107 flavors! it boasted — instead of meeting your curious gaze. “He, uh, told me we used to come here.”

“We did.” Your throat felt thick.

He had kissed you for the first time on that picnic table over there, when dusk had settled and fireflies lit up the night around you. You had been sitting on the table with Stan slotted between your legs. His mouth was cold from the ice cream but soft and sweet tasting, dancing across your tongue. You never cared for mint before that day.

When it was your turn to order, Stan persisted that you deserved a senior discount. The teenager caved, leading you to roll your eyes as Stan put his change in the tip jar only to draw out more than he put in. He took the first taste of his mint, double-scooped cone and winked at you.

“You’re insufferable,” you said with a laugh.

“He made it too easy,” Stan replied. “Sucker.”

You sat down at one of the empty tables. No one approached you but they cast glances in your direction, undoubtedly interested in the hero of Gravity Falls. If Stan noticed he didn’t say, challenging you instead to an ice cream eating contest until one of succumbed to brain freeze.

Stan had a voracious appetite, as did you, and you won out in the end. Stan, as a result, had to jump into the lake with his clothes on.

“Wait, before you go.” You couldn’t hide your amusement as you leaned up on your tiptoes and wiped ice cream from the corner of Stan’s mouth. Your thumb lingered. Recognition flashed in Stan’s eyes, then disappeared as soon as it appeared. Had you imagined it? “Um, there.”

“Thanks, kid.”

A moment passed between you, the span of a few heartbeats, before Stan braced himself. He yelled, “TELL MY STORY!” before racing off towards the shoreline of the lake. You doubled over with laughter as his youthful sprint soon turned into a hobble, the wind carrying Stan’s curses back to you. He collapsed on the sand mere inches from the lake.

Concern worried the edges of your mind. You called out to him, “Stan? Stan!”

No response.

You smiled sheepishly at the townsfolk observing the whole situation, then trotted after Stan. Upon inspection he was still breathing, one hand draped on his chest. The sand crunched underfoot as you stood over him. “Did you die?”

“Maybe.” He cracked open an eye. “Does that make you an angel?”

Your worry vanished. Staring up at the sky, you searched the clouds for an answer about why you still put up with this old man. “No use flattering me. This doesn’t hold up your end of the deal.”

“Yeah, yeah. Gimme a hand, would ya?”

You reached down for his hand, but instead of meeting yours it clasped around your wrist, pulling you down on top of him. You cried out in surprise. The water lapped at the pebbled beach, soaking through your clothes as Stan caged you with his body and rolled you both into it.

You shrieked in protest. Entrapped in his arms, he hauled you out into knee-deep water. It was no use trying to fight against him, though you gave your best effort. He could’ve held you like that all day and you knew that when you twisted to face him, it was only because he let you.

Somehow you winded up with your hands on his chest, his shirt plastered to his skin and revealing a glimpse of the body beneath. The moment reminded you of how young Stan made you feel, still blushing over him. He never treated you as if you were old or frail and you might as well have been in your late twenties again, when you first met, not a crease or wrinkle in sight.

Stan cleared his throat and the spell broke.

You removed your hands and stepped back, already missing the warmth of his proximity. In an attempt to ease the tension, you quipped, “I won’t forget this, Stanley Pines.”

Stan’s mouth twitched into a smile, eyes soft. “Neither will I.”

Stan assured you that evening that the outing had roused a memory, but you knew that he just wanted to console you. It didn’t matter. You were determined to recreate as many memories as possible, some alone, others including Dipper and Mabel. Great fun was had by all but you could tell, sneaking glances at Stan whenever he looked away, that it wasn’t registering.

Dipper and Mabel’s last days in Gravity Falls were swiftly approaching. It was a general consensus in the Pines household to pretend that this was not happening.

“You know, you could go with them.”

Admittedly, while watching Stan entertain Dipper and Mabel with an outlandish story, you forgot Ford was sitting beside you. The sinking sun created an orange glow over everything, glinting in Ford’s glasses as he waited for your answer.

“Who?” You asked, distracted.

“The kids.” Ford made a flippant gesture towards them. “Back to Piedmont.”

“Oh.” You hadn’t given any thought about it. It was, after all, never your plan to leave Gravity Falls. Was Ford trying to get rid of you?

Ford continued, “Just…I see the way you look at Stan. I know it hurts that he doesn’t remember.”

“It does.” You grew a sudden interest in the fray of your jeans. For the kids you put on a brave face, recreating memories with enthusiasm, but in truth, each one that failed was a stake through your confidence in Stan's memory.

“My theory might be incorrect. Or just an outlier in Stan’s case,” Ford added with afterthought, never the one to admit failure. Unlike you. “It doesn’t seem he will ever recover his memories.”

“We can’t give up, though,” you said, voice wavering with emotion.

Ford’s jaw feathered. So much of him reflected Stan down to the last detail, but with an air of superiority that Stan lacked. “Stan told you about Stan-o-War.”

A statement. Not a question.

“Yes.” Irritation raised under your skin like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

“I want to take him out. On a boat. Explore the world like we promised each other.”

“What boat?”

“I have one,” Ford vaguely promised.

“What about The Shack?”

“We can leave it to Soos. Assuming that you go with the twins.”

“Why would I do that?”

A lull happened in the conversation as Dipper and Mabel exploded in uproarious laughter at something Stan said. You suspected Ford was gathering his words. “I’m afraid that if we carry on as we have, the stress on Stan’s mind will break it completely. We need to face the music.”

“I’m not giving up on him,” you gritted back.

Ford heaved a sigh. “I’m not suggesting that you do. I don’t think you ever would. But we have to do what’s best for Stan.” He put his hands on his knees and pushed up, his shadow falling over you as he stood. “Just think about it.”

And think about it you did. A lot.

You still hadn’t come to a decision a week before the twins left. Ford informed you that he planned to surprise Stan after they left, leaving you with the decision of staying with Soos or going with Dipper and Mabel. Could you just…up and leave?

Reportedly, their parents were looking for help; from what you understood, a divorce lingered on the horizon. It brought comfort to you to think about caring for them during a tumultuous time. Not to mention you couldn’t stand the thought of not seeing them every day — but to gain it at the risk of losing Stan?

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Stan strode into the room, dapper in his Mister Mystery suit. Your cheeks heated. Too many times you had been caught this week lost in your thoughts. “Oh, I —”

“No, seriously. I need a penny.”

You opened the register. He proceeded to take said coin and spin some elaborate tale to a group of tourists about how it had been crafted from a rare alien metal. Stan sold it for “only ten dollars” after pretending to meditate on the offer, chuckling as the unsuspecting tourist walked away.

He tapped the money into his sleeve. “Okay, but really, what’s eatin’ at ya?”

“I’m just sad about the kids leaving,” you told him after a pause, which wasn’t a complete lie. Unable to bear the flicker of sadness across his face, you panicked, racking your brain for something else. “We should…throw a going away party for them.”

A party? That was the last thing you needed to concern yourself with. But Stan had already latched onto the idea.

“Hey, that’s not a bad idea. We could promote the Shack, invite their friends, exorbitantly mark-up entry tickets.”

Stan listed each idea on his fingers. Although you regretted suggesting it, it filled you with warmth to see him invigorated by the notion of a party. You couldn’t steal that away from him now.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise to you that Stan was an expert party planner considering he was the life of one wherever he went. He got to work assigning roles and soon after you were hiring a caterer (Greasy Sue’s), a DJ (Soos, who insisted you call him despite being in the same room), and security (the man you only knew as “the one with the tattoos”).

The more you inquired, the more people wanted to participate. It opened your eyes to how much the Pines family impacted the town over the last few months. It was heartening, to say the least.

And by the time the party started, everyone in Gravity Falls was either attending it or volunteering at it. Everywhere you looked there was someone you knew, someone there to celebrate the people you loved most.

“You think they were surprised?” Stan’s booming voice floated over the music.

Strobe lights flashed overhead, casting him in an array of colors as he parted the crowd to your side. Dressed in dark slacks and a deep v-necked shirt, gold chain nestled in a patch of chest hair, Stan cut a perfect image of himself in the ‘70s. And although the outfit invoked memories of a younger man, you found this older one much more preferable.

“Definitely,” you replied.

Stan leaned down. “What?”

“I said definitely!” The music blared, pulsing through the whole building like a living thing. It didn’t help that Mabel and her friends had acquired full access to the speakers that Wendy’s dad lugged in earlier.

“What?” Stan wrapped one hand around your waist and pulled you in, putting your mouth dangerously close to his ear.

Heat flooded you. You yelled, “Let’s go outside!”

“Lead the way!”

To your pleasure and mortification, Stan removed his hand from your waist just enough to rest on your lower back, steering you through the crowd of partygoers. The cool night air was a balm to your heated skin as you stepped onto the porch.

Stan strayed from you long enough to shoo away two people kissing passionately on the couch — Blurbs and Durland— before patting the spot next to him for you to sit down.

“Are we old or is that music too loud?” Stan asked. He fished a cigar from his pocket and lit it.

You were entranced by the smoke curling from the end, the fixture of the cigar resting against his bottom lip. You swallowed and uncrossed your legs, then recrossed them.

“All that matters is that the party is a success,” you said.

Stan chuckled. “Heh, it is, isn’t it? Little twerps didn’t know what hit ’em.”

A small eternity passed in which you hunted desperately for something else to say. Stretched out above you on an inky canvas, the stars shone, rendering you small and insignificant. You stared up at them as exhaustion claimed you. You were so tired of thinking, of inventing conversation, so you said the one thing you knew to be irrefutable.

“You’re a good man, Stanley.”

He guffawed. “Don’t let anyone hear ya say that.”

“It’s true.” Since that day at the lake you had been careful not to touch him, but now you put your hand on his knee. “You’re a good man. What happened doesn’t change that. Your memories do not amount to your character.”

The corner of his mouth quirked, and you could tell he was fighting a swell of emotion. “I wish I could do better. Everyone has these…expectations of me. I dunno how to live up to them. I want to be that person.”

“You are that person, without even thinking about it. You’re still passionate about your family. And you’re clever and brave.”

“I’m, uh, not complain’ or nothin’ but I can see the disappointment in your eyes. And-And not just you. Everyone.” He took a drag from the cigar, chest expanding with an inhaled breath. Stan blew the smoke out slowly. “I’m a stranger in my own life, ya know?”

Ford’s words, his expression grim, emerged: We have to do what’s best for Stan.

Tears sprang to your eyes but you willed them away, swallowing until your throat no longer felt quite as thick. It wasn’t fair to push Stan to be someone he couldn’t remember by clinging to a past that only you knew.

Maybe Ford was right.

Maybe the best thing for Stan was to shed the weight of these expectations and carve out a new existence for himself. He would be thrilled to explore the world with his brother — who might as well have just been introduced to him considering the time they spent apart.

There was no room for you in this new life. You knew he could never look at you without thinking about his shortcomings, even if they existed only in his mind. You were standing on one side of a chasm, yelling at him; Stan on the other side, but he was too far away to hear you.

“Well that got depressing.” Stan stubbed out the cigar, ash crumbling. He stood and held his hand out to you, eerily reminiscent of how Ford had last week. “C’mon, dance w’me.”

He looked nervous to ask you this, which dumbfounded you — you would do whatever he asked. The quiet observation made you smile.

You took his hand and allowed him to pull you back inside, a sense of bittersweet finality settling over you as you did.

The party prevailed. People were drunk on the cheap beer and good company, cheeks reddened, smiles wide. When Soos played a string of throwback songs, Stan animatedly swung you around the dance floor, surprisingly graceful for his age and size. Every touch and graze seared through you, and Stan’s gaze lingered on you in a way that heated your core and stole your breath, his dark eyes glinting with customary mirth.

A particularly enthusiastic move spun you nearly into the beverage table. You stumbled but Stan was upon you in a moment, catching you and steadying you with his hands on your waist.

“You okay?” He inspected you from head to toe, then chuckled. “Heh. Guess I don’t know my own strength.”

One moment you were like that — brimming with happiness, entangled, chests pressed together — and the next Stan had pinned you to the wall, the darkened corner lending plenty of privacy to his wandering touch and fervent kisses. You kissed him back with similar urgency.

There was no part of him that you hadn’t mapped at one point or another, though it felt jarringly now like new territory, the same broad shoulders and thick arms but somehow different.

And you wanted to explore all of it.

With your teeth you tugged at his bottom lip, teasing open his mouth in order to get a better taste. Stan, pliant and obedient under your lead, sighed in pleasure. Nothing you did sated the need inside you to consume him, devour all that he offered so that you could never miss it again.

Stan had just moved his hand from your ass down along the curve of your lower thigh to lift your leg up around his waist — hardly an appropriate position for a Grauntie, you thought vaguely— when you were interrupted with unmistakable cheering. “Get ’em! Get ’em!”

Stan ensured to cover your body with his own as he whirled on Tyler in a move of unexpected gentlemanliness. The next words out of his mouth? Not so much.

Stan rasped, “I swear to God if you don’t get outta my sight right now I’m gonna rip out your eyes and sew them on whatever horrible affront to nature I have in my shop. Now scram.”

Tyler paused. He breathed out a small, “Get ’em” then turned tail and fled.

You covered your mouth to stifle your laugh.

“Pervert,” Stan grumbled.

“Can you blame him?”

“Nah. I’d watch us, too.” Stan grinned then, renewed in his delight. He gestured with his chin towards the door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. “Wanna get out of here?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

The music, muffled by distance, sounded like an erratic heartbeat from the living room chair where Stan pulled you on top of him. You both laughed as your knees protested against the maneuver, Stan carefully guiding your legs to rest on either side of him. He kissed you at once. It was as if there had been no interruption from before, his hands in your hair and your fingers clumsily working the buttons of his shirt.

Stan shifted to accommodate the subsequent unbuckling of his gaudy belt, taking the opportunity to also unburden you from your top. Your entire being seemed to warm as he admired this new development, gaze drifting lazily, drinking in his fill. Stan always made you feel desirable. Even after your skin freckled and your breasts no longer held their perkiness.

Smiling with the ease of a contented man, Stan reached out and brushed a thumb under your collar. “How’d ya get this?”

You froze. You didn’t have to look to know what he was talking about — a tiny, heart-shaped scar.

The obvious shift in attitude made him recoil. His features spasmed with regret.

“I should know that, shouldn’t I?”

Your chest tightened. You whispered, “Yes.”

“Damnit.” He breathed your name. “I’m sorry. I should’ve known better than to say anything —”

The rest of his apology fell on deaf ears. You awkwardly climbed off his lap and collected your shirt. The shag carpet nearly swallowed your bare feet, having kicked off your shoes sometime after crossing the threshold into the house. Stan sat motionless, watching you.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you quietly said.

Stan’s fingers flexed, an effort not to reach out to you again. “I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

“It…it’s okay.” You felt, somehow, as if you were both shrinking and expanding. The words you managed to eke out next sounded hollow. “We shouldn’t have done this.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t a good idea.” For the second time that night, tears burned your eyes. Stan, upon noticing, leapt out of the chair but you stepped out of his reach, wrapping your arms around you.

Stan deflated. Actually deflated, shoulders curving into his usual rounded posture. “What’s going on? Listen, I shouldn’t have said —”

“It’s not that,” you interrupted.

But wasn’t?

Not exclusively, you corrected. It was a whole jumbled, tangled mess of things. We need to do what’s best for Stan.

You couldn’t do this to him. To yourself. Couldn’t cycle through these moments of normality that inevitably tainted themselves. Like oil in water, you couldn’t separate one from the other. You had been delusional to think that you could defy that basic logic.

You would do anything for love, wouldn’t you?

Didn’t that include letting it go?

“I can’t do this, Stanley,” you told him. You were floating above yourself, presiding over the conversation in incorporeal form. “I-I can’t move out of the past. And I want to move forward, I do. But it’s impossible, and I can’t have both. I can’t.”

Tears flowed steadily down your face now.

Stan moved to console you but must’ve thought better of it. “What are you saying?”

“I’m going to go to Piedmont. With the twins.”

“What? What about us?”

“There is no us anymore, Stan.”

His throat bobbed uncertainly. “I know that it’s not like before but I…I’ve really enjoyed our time together. We could make this work.”

You shook your head. Sobs racked you, great shuddering, choking cries.

Stan stepped tentatively forward. “I dunno what to say.” His mouth worked as he searched for his next words. “We’ve made so many new memories together. Ain’t that enough?”

Was this really happening? You couldn't believe that it had come to this, all of those years. You didn't have any words for the emotions wholly encompassing you.

“Look, kid, I —” Stan’s brows twisted up in grief, in regret and confusion, “— I wish you would stay. I think I’m fallin’ in love with you again.”

The pleading tone of his voice proved exactly why you needed to leave. Realistically you could never have him this way, and you would only hurt him because of it. Stan deserved more than a constant reminder of the consequences of his heroic deed.

You turned from him. “I’m sorry, Stan.”

Your name from his mouth sounded like the prayer of a man desperate for salvation. “No. Please. Please don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

Heart heavier than it had ever been before, vision blurred, that’s exactly what you did.

As anticipated, the next day brought an onslaught of tears and goodbyes. You traipsed the halls of the Mystery Shack alone, ghosting your fingers over the chipped paneling and peeling paint. You were married to the old house as much as you were to Stan. Deep down you knew that you would return, but it didn’t make the goodbye any less difficult.

You avoided Stan at every possible turn. Only when you all piled into the car with your luggage did you force yourself to acknowledge him, fatigue creasing his face. You wanted nothing more than to comfort him. But this would be good for him — no more sorrow, no more pain. After the bus departed, Ford would surprise him with the boat and he would start a new life.

The walk from El Diablo to the bus station seemed to stretch on forever. You held Mabel’s hand while Dipper pushed ahead, feigning bravery, though last night you heard him crying softly in his room. So much had transpired over the summer, and now the days of adventure and laughter were over.

“I made these for you,” Mabel said. She handed Stan and Ford a pink sweater each, the former putting it on immediately and glaring at his brother to do the same. “I’m gonna miss my Grunkles.”

Ford smiled wistfully. “We’ll miss you too, kiddo.”

“C’mere, sweetie.” Stan brought Mabel in for a hug. It didn’t elude you that he used the endearment he chose before the memory wipe.

You felt as if your chest might burst from all of your suppressed, cresting emotions. Dipper bid his goodbyes next. The bus rumbled to the station then, kicking up dust, and the four of you fell into a tightened embrace.

You pulled away last. Stan regarded you with large, reproachful eyes as you kissed his cheek. “Goodbye, Stanley. We’ll see each other again.”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah.” He looked jarred by the interaction, a faint blush burning his cheeks.

Ford dipped his chin in your direction, a silent acknowledgment between you. Your lower lip trembled. But, as you turned to Dipper and Mabel, you summoned your most convincing smile and led them to the bus. Stan and Ford ensured that the driver allowed Waddles on the bus, who squealed his delight at entry. The duo, Stan outfitted in his brass knuckles and Ford with his gun, watched over your departure like two handsome, vengeful guardian angels.

Your bus seat creaked as you settled down into it, Dipper and Mabel on either side of you.

“To Piedmont,” you said.

“To Piedmont,” Dipper echoed. His grim smile had you reaching out to hug him again.

Mabel sadly waved Waddles’ hoof out the window. You couldn’t bear to look out it, staring straight ahead until the bus gained traction on the gravel road and the bus station — and your heart, your home — shrank in the distance.

For a long time the only sound was the bus chugging along and the only other rider, a snoring old man. You weren’t sure what the twins were thinking. Perhaps they were recounting their many adventures just as you were, Stan starring in most of yours.

No. No Stan. You needed to be brave.

You tried valiantly to raise morale. “We had so many great memories this summer. Fishing, swimming, being with Wendy and Soos and —”

“Grunkle Stan!”

You nodded somberly, adding, “And Grunkle Stan.”

“No! Look!” Mabel clambered in the seat, stabbing her finger at the window. Both you and Dipper righted in order to peer around her sweatered form. Sure enough, there was Stan, running to keep up with the bus and waving his hands.

“Wait! Stop!” He yelled, panting. “Stop the bus!”

“We have to stop the bus. He wants to tell us something,” Mabel said, eyes wide with urgency.

You eyed Stan, stumbling over rocks and roots, knowing that he wouldn’t last much longer. You signaled for the bus driver to stop; after the Waddles incident, he was only too willing to obey. The bus sputtered to a halt and the three of you piled off, Mabel and Dipper darting out in front to meet Stan’s breathless approach.

“Stan, what are you doing?” You shielded your face, blinking into the sun.

Stan doubled over, hands on his knees. He signaled that he needed a minute. You stood, smiling sheepishly at the bus driver, who looked less than impressed to be waiting. You started, “Stan —”

“I remember!” His face absolutely beamed. “I remember. I remember it all.” Stan grabbed Mabel’s shoulders. “You eat glitter when you think no one is looking. You told me once that you invented invisible ice cream but couldn’t find it when it fell on the floor.”

It was Dipper’s turn next for this onslaught of information, brimming out of Stan like an overflowing sink. “You! At the beginning of the summer you thought Mabel’s pet rock was an alien tryin’ to blend in. You were freakin’ out because it kept movin’.” Stan burst into laughter. “But it was just ME!”

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel and Dipper leapt to embrace him. He hugged them tighter than you had ever seen before.

He remembered? He remembered?

“Don’t think I forgot about ya.” Stan released the twins, crossing the space between you in only two strides. “I’m sorry, doll, ‘bout everythin’.” His large hands cupped either side of your face, gaze roaming over you with renewed wonder. “Everything is so clear now.”

Your lip wobbled. “You remember?”

“Yes I remember you beautiful, crazy woman!” Stan laughed and suddenly he was wrapping his arms around your middle and lifting you off your feet, spinning you in a circle. “I remember! I remember!”

You put your hands on his shoulders to brace yourself. “Stan! Stan! Are you sure?” You couldn’t let yourself hope again if it wasn’t true, fluttering in your chest like a trapped bird.

He set you down again, grinning like a child. “Like hell I’m sure. When…When Bill went in my mind, I ‘member thinkin’ that I could never lose you. None of you. I suppose I was s’scared of it that I repressed it deep enough to protect the memories. Then when you got on that bus, when I thought I lost you for real, it all came rushing back.”

“Really?” Tears strained your voice.

“Really.” Stan’s features softened. “I understand now why you fought so hard to get these memories back.”

A sound of strangled, delirious joy burst from you and you threw yourself against him, arms encircling around his neck. Stan’s mouth hovered near your ear, lips brushing the outer shell of it. “I love ya, doll. Even-Even when I didn’t remember why, I loved ya.”

“I love you, too,” you sighed into the crook of his neck and shoulder. “I can’t believe this.”

“Well, believe it.” Stan retracted enough to study you, curious and awed all in one. “You can’t get rid o’me that easily.”

“I-I really thought…” you shook your head, unable to get the words out. You just held him tighter.

“I know. I know, doll.”

You didn’t need to speak to understand each other, to know what the other one was thinking. When he held you now, he held you with thirty years of memories, a bind stronger than even the ring on your finger.

Mabel broke the embrace, tugging on Stan’s shirt. “What happens now?”

In the distance, Dipper and Ford were chasing Waddles. Stan observed this, then took a long look at you before turning to his niece. He waved off the bus driver, saying, “You ever been on a boat before, kid?”

A/N 2.0: In my head, they all get to go on their adventures together and reader homeschools Dipper and Mabel and they’re a big, happy family.

There’s little nods to the Swooning Over Stans dating game by @gfdatingsim and By Steps and Inches by @funkingrunkles . Memories is kind of my love letter to both stories that I enjoyed so much. (So if you read this, thank you💕)

#gravity falls #stanley pines #fanfic #writers on tumblr #writing #stanley pines x reader #memories #Your Honor I love this weird old man

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chanandlersstuff · 2 years ago

Text

Bubble and Moose.

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x Reader.

Summary: The timeline of how Hayden gradually fell in love with her until he was madly in love, to the point of no returning.

Word count: 8.124

Warnings: Not much actually, age-gap and a slow burn. If you squint, there's a "steamy" part.

Author’s note: Hello again, thanks for the paitence. My life has been a little ecthic lately and I'm sorry this took this long. There's still a second part to this part and a final part. With that being said, hope you like it and have a nice day.

gif credit @hayden-christensen

← Previous part // Next Part →

May 2020, definitely not a coworker's relationship.

After their birthday gifts were exchanged an invisible barrier seemed to be taken down, they started to talk more frequently, it didn’t matter who called who, the other answered right away.

In the beginning, it started with her brainstorming with him about Anakin’s journey to Darth Vader because according to her, who better to tell me what seemed right than the guy you portrayed him?, but he certainly didn’t mind if he got to listen to her rambling sweet voice asking and answering herself in seconds. In the process, they leant a little in their favourite episodes of The Clone Wars Series and it was funny seeing two grown-ups discussing over Facetime a child series but they had fun and spent days.

At some point, the brainstorming stepped into the background and movies, plays, books, series, and all kinds of things started to be recommended. His favourite moments of those facetimes were when she got passionate about what she would have done in the movies they saw, when she did all that technical talk and her face lit up, started gesticulating more and talked quickly, sometimes too quickly for his fascinated-by-her brain to comprehend. Fascinated in professional terms, not at all in the sentimental.

If someone had been looking at him while he looked at her, they could have witnessed the soft smile on his lips, how slowly he blinked and how attentive he listened to every word that left her mouth as if she was telling him the answer to cure world hunger.

But it was just the two of them talking for hours by a phone screen, while in reality, they were dying to be next to the other on the sofa talking face to face, close enough to touch but without really doing it for fear of being too much.

It was a normal day, which meant that their breakfast routine remained but with the little twist of being in quarantine. Her phone was resting on something and he, from his sofa with the cup she gifted him in hand, had a clear view of her moving around her kitchen making coffee and pancakes. It was intimate, so intimate that it overwhelmed him a little but at the same time made him happy.

“How’s Canada?” She was mixing her ingredients.

It took him a few seconds to answer, too distracted by the flour in her cheek and the need to pass the screen to wipe it himself. “I wouldn’t know,” He took a sip of his tea “I'm not there.”

She looked at him frowning, and the mixing stopped. “What? I thought you were quarantined in your house.” He shook his head. “If I didn’t know you, I would think that you were one of those people acting as if all this mess is a sick joke.”

He laughed at her irritated face. How can I take that face seriously when it’s too damn cute and, on top of it, has flour on it? “I would never, you know that.”

“I know, that’s why I said If I didn’t know you.” Add ‘duh’ to the phrase and she was calling him dumb. “Are you paying attention to me, Starboy?” She asked with her hand on her waist, like a mom when she was mad at something.

Yes, I can only focus on you when you are present and even when you are not, you are the only thing I can think about. “Yes, Little Miss, so drop that tone.” He was about to take a sip of tea but smiled, and giggled when he saw her rolling his eyes at him. “Don’t do that either.” And just to infuriate him, she rolled them more exaggeratedly. It’s too early in the morning to go to that place, Hayden, so don’t do it. Plus you would not be able to come back. Keep it professional. Quickly, he changed the subject. “I'm here in LA.”

The bowl almost fell from her hands and her mouth was opened in surprise. “You’ve been here this whole time?”

He nodded. “Yeah, Bri and her mom live here so I’m staying here to be with her and not see her over a screen. It’s tedious.” It’s tedious seeing you over a screen too, but it would be more tedious to not see you at all.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” She nodded while pouring the mix into the pan. “But that’s sweet of you. You are a great dad, Hayden.” It came to his notice that she said his name only in important/serious matters and when she wanted him to know she was telling the truth.

And oh how he loved it when his name rolled out her lips, how he would like to hear it in the most unprofessional, not pg-13, scenarios and tones. Drop it, Hayden.

Mid May 2020, clearing doubts and new beginnings.

He was alone in his house, Briar was with her mom and although he tried to read, watch a series and even designed something for his patio, nothing could take his mind out of her. She plagued his mind more frequently at that point and the last time they Facetimed was a couple of days ago.

Fuck it. He was calling her. Her contact name was ‘Little Miss’ staring back at him, no picture. It rang for a few and when he was about to hang up her face came up.

She was looking at the side, her profile in clear view. Airpods, messy hair falling into her face, eyebrows frowned, mouth a little agape and his eyes got lost in how she licked her lips before talking. What would they taste like? Was she talking to him? Was she talking with someone else? Was he interrupting? Was she with someone else?

“Hey.” Her tone was cheerful. “How are you?”

“Good, good.” He nodded, still with his eyes locked on her lips. “You?” She was looking at something away from her phone, making funny faces. “I called at a bad time? I can call you later.”

This time she looked at him with a tiny smile on her lips. “Not that your calls bother me at any time,” he smiled at her words. “but can I call you in twenty?”

With the smile you are giving me, how can I ever deny you? “Yeah, of course. Take your time.” He nodded with a smile on his lips

“Thank you, I’ll call you right back.” She blew him a kiss and hung up before he could even react.

Was that a kiss or I’m hallucinating? Her lips looked more beautiful than normal or it was just that I hadn’t seen her in person for such a long time? He went to the kitchen to get something to drink and watch the sky to clear his mind because all that he thought about were those lips.

Time seemed to fly while he admired the sky, from the outside, but in reality, he was comparing the feeling of her lips to the sensation of touching clouds. Both foreign to and, yet, Hayden could bet all the money in his bank account that they were soft, heavenly-like, addictive and like nothing he had ever experienced in all his years of living. Not very professional of you, Hayden, thinking about your coworker’s lips.

The sound of his phone ringing brought him back to the real world and with a smile he answered. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Her hair was still messy but with no frown. He tried to not look at her lips to be able to focus on her. “Sorry about earlier.”

An apologetic smile appeared on her lips but he shook his head. “Not at all, you were occupied?”

“Yeah,” she lifted her shoulders in a nonchalant gesture, “the kids arrived like two seconds before you called so they were all over the place.” While she was moving around the place, he caught a few glimpses here and there about her house.

“Kids?” He had one eyebrow raised and his head tilted to the side.

“Yeah.” A smile appeared on her lips. “Not mine but something like that.” Okay, that confused him as hell and she seemed to notice it. “My niece and nephew.”

He nodded remembering. “I’m sorry, I assume you had kids and-

He was quick to apologise but it was her turn to shake her head. Laughing. “It’s okay, Hayden.” Hearing his name coming from her lips made him smile widely. “I talk about them as if they were mine, so the confusion is expected.”

He looked unsure but she smiled at him. “So they stay with you?” She was looking up from the screen from time to time.

“Yeah, my sister and brother-in-law are doctors,” he listened attentively to her words, cheering for her trust in him “So, the kids stay with me to be safe.” and nodded. “Besides I’m the fun cool single aunt with a big house that lets them get a little wild from time to time.” She laughed at her own words.

And he did too, tilting his head back. His Adam's apple was bobbing up and down in full display for her to see. When he looked back at her, he caught her just in time licking her lips and her eyes a little lost. What’s she looking at? Lost something? Her cheeks have always been that red or has it happened now? The thoughts started clouding him so he cleared his throat and her eyes travelled back to his. “It’s nice that you are taking care of them.”

“Huh?” He smirked, she giggled and he did too. The laughter of one made the other laugh harder as if they were little kids again. Five minutes passed before it died down and it wasn’t even that funny. “Oh God.” She cleared a tear from the corner of her eyes, while he chuckled. “What did you say?”

He snorted, shaking his head. “That is nice what you are doing.”

She smiled at his words. “They are the closest I have to my own kids, it’s not like I’m adopting orphans or donating piles of money to the health of my country.” In the last part, she gave him a knowing look and before he could say something she kept talking. “It’s the least I can do while their parents are saving people and risking their lives.” He nodded understandingly.

They kept talking for a little while until she had to hang up, but this time there was no kiss blown in his direction. Which made him a little sad, if he was honest. Why would you? You two are nothing except coworkers.

A few weeks passed when they didn’t Facetime as much as before because he didn’t want to interrupt her time with the kids, he knew how handful one kid was, let alone two. Plus he was trying to keep his emotions at bay, they were starting to get wild and he couldn't let that happen. But, they texted frequently, small things here and there to stay in touch, although he preferred a thousand times more seeing her face. A little contradictory, don’t you think Hayden?

He and Briar were cooking together, more like the little girl was sitting on the island while he did all the work when Facetime came in. "How hard can it be to build a kid's playground?" Her desperate voice reached his ears, making him laugh.

"Hello to you too." He teased her.

"Hi." It came all muffled by the groan that left her lips.

His eyes found Briar's, who was giggling, and he did it too. "Now, tell me. What are you building?"

She exhaled loudly while he kept making lunch. "I bought a small kind of playground or something like that." He nodded, a little confused. "Thinking it couldn't be that hard to put together and surprise! IT IS." The pair, father and daughter, laughed again. She lifted her head from the papers in her hands for the first time and looked at him with a frown on her forehead. "Am I interrupting something?"

He shook his head and Briar, with the curious nature of a five-year-old, moved her head to see his phone. "Hello."

"Oh hi!" She looked surprised but with a smile on her face.

"I'm Briar Rose, and you?" The little girl introduced herself and she did too, still with a smile on her lips and a cheerful tone. "Where are you friends with my daddy?" She asked innocently. "Briar Rose!" Hayden said in his dad's tone.

But she laughed, a genuine laugh. Not like the ones he heard her give when she was nervous or uncomfortable, so he relaxed. "From work, we are working together." See?! COWORKERS! She said it herself.

The little girl nodded. "Bri, you helped me choose a present for her a few months ago, remember?" She seemed to think about it and then nodded.

"Oh, you helped him?" Briar nodded eagerly and she smiled. "I loved the flowers, they were so pretty. Thank you." She bowed her head and the little girl blushed a little.

He couldn't see her face directly, because Bri's head was in the way while she got comfortable in front of the phone, making him smile. "Really?"

"Yeah." Just by her tone, he could see her, in his brain, smiling. "I put them on a desk in the centre of my office so everyone could see them." Those little blue eyes opened wide in surprise "Every person that entered my office that day, loved them. You picked right." and a big happy smile appeared on her face.

Hayden saw how closely Briar was looking at her, how she tilted her head to the side from time to time while they talked. "Why are you building a playground?" He looked at them from the corner of his eyes.

"My niece and nephew, Brianna and Daniel, are 6 and staying still is not their thing." He laughed, picturing himself as a little boy and understood what she was saying. "The other day they told me they missed the park."

"I missed it too, but Daddy has a swing on the patio for me," Briar told her and she opened her eyes in surprise, following along. "So I don't miss it that much."

"Well, I had a similar thinking to your Daddy's" What? Come again? "and since I cannot watch them being sad, I bought a small playground for our patio." The little girl nodded.

"In a cool, fun aunt way." He added.

"Exactly." She laughed and the little girl did it too. "Besides, I don't want Daniel jumping out the balcony ‘cause he's bored out of his mind.” He raised his eyebrows. “I swear to you, that kid is wild.”

They laughed, the three of them. "So you bought a playground for them?" Hayden asked in disbelief.

"Kind of?" She sounded unsure and Briar laughed.

He looked at the two of them with a smile on his lips. "Do you even have the tools to set it up?"

They looked at each other and she had that irritated face that he found so cute, so endearing. A big smile appeared on his lips, unwittingly, naturally. "I'm not silly, I bought everything at once."

"Of course you did." He said under his breath found it funny. You and your like for order.

She nodded, putting a wild strand of hair behind her ear. "In my defence," she held her finger up and he raised an eyebrow, ready to hear her excuse "It seemed like a great idea." She sounded so sure, so convinced.

"How?!" He was frowning, his deep tone a little higher than normal.

She got comfortable behind the screen and they did too, their lunch almost ready. "I ordered it the next day they told me that, and with the protocols and everything, it arrived a day after they left, which is today." They nodded. "I thought of building it myself so when they came back, in like a week give or take, they would be surprised."

"That's nice," Briar said.

"I know. Thank you, Briar." She winked at the little girl and she tried to mimic but failed, making the two adults laugh. "But I didn't think it was that hard to build it!”

The little girl giggled, making her father, and her, laugh. “It didn't come with instructions?”

“Yes.” She shook the papers in her hand for him to see. “and I saw a few YouTube tutorials but it's not as easy as it seems.” They laughed again. “So I was this close” she put her pointer finger and thumb a little close to measuring “to a mental breakdown when a lightbulb went on in my head so I said ‘Hey, I have a friend” Friend?! That’s an improvement from coworkers. “who's really into design and architecture and has a beautiful daughter” she winked at Briar, making her giggle “so he would know how to help me’ and that’s how we are here.” She finished with a big smile on her lips and batted her eyelashes as if that was necessary for him to help her.

The little girl looked at him with a smile, fully engrossed with all that was happening. “What do you say, Bri, should we help her?” He looked around, thinking, tapping his chin with his finger, acting as if he was weighing his options, but his beloved daughter tugged his shirt, impatient. “Yeah, daddy, help her.” Hayden looked at her, at that smile on her lips, then at Briar who was mimicking the face she had moments ago. “Okay, we will help her.”

They both celebrated, even high-five through the screen, and he couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his lips, the warm feeling that ran through his body and the hope. Hope? Hope of what? Keep it professional Hayden.

After she sent them photos of the instructions, at his request, they had lunch, over Facetime, while he looked at everything from his tablet and they, Briar Rose and she, chatted. Scratch that, Bri did all the talking while she listened closely.

She told her about her classes, about his dad’s farm and all the animals, asked about her niece and nephew, and all kinds of topics they did. All that, while Hayden half listened to them, looked at them interact with a smile on his lips, and half daydreamed, but never once reading at the papers in his tablet, always acting as if he was.

Stop it, Hayden, you are working together. You already went down that road and the only good thing that came out of it’s Briar, so don’t even think about it.

"Isn't that right, daddy?" Briar was looking at him but he frowned, a little lost. “She looks like Bubble.”

“As in The Powerpuff Girls?” But the little girl shook his head.

The brunette was thinking of any recent character his daughter saw that could resemble her. She was wearing a green flannel shirt, too big for her, that matched her skin tone, her hair held up messily, making it seem like she had a pixie cut and lighter, by the light that was hitting on it, and glasses, he noticed she was wearing them more frequently. I like how they look at you. Really? Not very professional of you.

“Bubble like the fairies movies, Daddy. The one we watched the other day, remember?” He was really trying to remember what movie she was talking about because they watched too many.

But she seemed to realise what she was talking about. “Tinkerbell?” Briar nodded eagerly.

“The one with big glasses, wearing green, that's always building something and it's funny." She explained. "Bubble!"

If he remembered correctly it was a male fairy and his name wasn't Bubble. "Oh, the one that was in love with Tinkerbell?" Briar nodded again. "Bobble.”

"Bubble." The little girl corrected, but even though it was wrong, she nodded.

Haydey found it extremely cute, and funny, the resemblance his daughter found in her. A little magical, mythical, figure a little bit clumsy, extremely passionate about his work and art. Briar Rose wasn't that far from reality, they were similar but at the same time, she was like no one he ever knew.

"Bubble." He tasted it on his tongue and it suited her just fine.

She laughed, shaking her head "I'll take it" and arranged her glasses. "But, if I'm Bubble, you, my friend" Again with it. she pointed at him "Are going to be Moose." A smug smile appeared on her lips, his little girl laughed and he did too, amazed at the name.

"Moose?" He asked in disbelief.

She nodded. "You are Canadian and tall as a door. It suits you just fine."

"Fair enough, Bubble." She smiled, proud, with her chin held high. "And me?" Briar asked, not wanting to be left out, looking at both of them.

"Can I?" She mouthed, her eyes connected with his, asking for permission, and he nodded. "What you say about 'Princess'?”

Hayden knew she would love it. "Yes! I love it!" The little girl danced in her seat. They looked at each other, she was frowning but he gave her a smile, to reassure her it was alright and she nodded.

June 2020, planning dates and weird texts.

Saying their relationship was becoming something more was an understatement and that put him in a tough spot. They were more than coworkers, that much was for sure. They were friends? Probably on her part, but Hyaden had feelings he felt he should not have. Feelings? I know nothing about that. That’s very unprofessional. Feelings he would not speak about. Feelings he would deny and bury deep inside him because it was unprofessional. So, the only rational reaction he came up with was to distance himself a little, but not too much. They still talked over text and Facetime, but the last ones were from time to time, weeks in between them, not as often as they used to.

He and Briar were watching some movie, comfortably lying on the sofa, his little girl with her feet on his lap really engrossed in the movie ‘Anastasia’. A recommendation the little girl got as soon as ‘Bubble, what movie should we watch now?’ left her lips. When she found out that her daddy’s friend made movies, she was over the moon, asking for movie recommendations left and right, almost like Hayden did on one of their facetime at the beginning.

This was one of those times when they were texting about God knows what. Sometimes they had separate conversations while texting each other like they were having their own monologues on the same chat.

I've never understood why people in movies used to send boxes with people inside as a gift

He frowned at the text, tilting his head to the side.

Huh?

WHAT’S IN THE BOX?! Type or what?

The three dots appeared and seconds later the response came.

Not that gore

But you know, like when someone jumps out of a cake

Like a surprise

His frown deepened.

What movie are you watching?

Singing in the rain

A smile appeared on his lips.

You have something for musicals, don’t you?

Shut up, Moose

He couldn't contain his laugh and Briar shushed him. “I’m watching the movie, daddy.” The little girl complained.

“Sorry, sweetie.” He smiled at her, not that she paid attention to him, and looked back to his phone.

You definitely have something with them, because I’m watching Anastasia and that’s on you

It’s a great movie, Bri is going to love it

He nodded, watching how invested his little girl was with the movie.

She already does

And you are not even trying to deny the musical part

They are my guilty pleasure, shut up

He chuckled, tilting his head back. Who would have thought?

So……

People jumping out of boxes/cakes are not your thing I gather

Of course not, like that's scary as hell.

He laughed, again.

Don't laugh

A frown emerged on his face, a little surprised.

How did you know I was laughing?

‘Cause I know you

Those words made him smile, proud of such thing.

And people laugh when I tell them about my unusual fear

For some reason, it didn’t seem right to him that someone laughs at her fears, no matter how small or foolish they seemed.

I promise not to laugh

Tell me about it

It was true, he wanted to know about it. About her.

Why would someone do something like that?

Why would someone want the birthday person to have a heart attack for the scare?

Don’t you think that’s a little dramatic?

No, it’s common sense

Sure, Bubble, whatever let you sleep at night

Certainly not that idea

Call me when that happens, we will take care of it together

The together part put a smile on his lips. In a friendly context, nothing more.

I will

To put your mind at ease, I promise to never send you those kind of things

Thank u

He could see her with a smile on her lips, that kind, sweet, smile so characteristic of her.

A couple of days later they were Facetiming, he called because he missed her voice but he was trying to mentally keep his distance. It was like a battle was being held inside him. I miss your voice, but saying it out loud may be too much. It may change everything and I don’t want that. I’m not prepared for that.

“Are you okay?” Her voice brought him back to reality.

The brunette nodded “Yeah, why?” with a frown on his forehead.

She shrugged, pursing her lips. “I don’t know, I-” She seemed to think about her next words and he raised his eyebrows, curious about them. “It’s gonna sound lame, but I feel like we don’t talk as much as we did before.”

The sadness Hayden saw in her eyes, even through his screen, made him heartache, but he knew she was right. That wasn’t what I wanted. No, don’t look at me like that. Please. “Yeah, sorry about that.” He was quick to apologise but she shook her head. “I have lots of things in my mind.”

“Hey, I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. It wasn’t at all my intention.” His eyes could see her manicured hand on her chest and a little frown on her eyebrows. “I meant it as, I know this whole staying-at-home thing is taking a toll on people and their mental health, so if you want to talk about it, or don’t, just know I’m here, Hayden.” The sincerity in her tone took him aback, but it shouldn’t have.

One time, he made a fleeting comment about his mental health after finishing Star Wars in 2005, trying to make his advice more clear for her. Hayden didn’t think that she would remember it, but it seemed he was mistaken. She remembered everything that came out of his mouth. The donations to Canada, his love for architecture, an embarrassing story about his childhood, his birthday, every little detail. So why wouldn’t she remember that little comment?

The sudden trainwreck of emotions inside him almost made him choke. “Thank you, Bubble.” There wasn’t a need for words, his eyes told her everything with how shiny they were and the smile on his lips was so soft, so sweet.

A sincere smile appeared on her lips, but she shrugged again. Taking a little off the emotion and seriousness of the moment before it became too much. “You would do the same for me.”

“Of course.” He said not missing a beat.

“So you don’t need to thank me.” She winked at him and that simple gesture made him feel lighter.

They stayed like that, talking for hours, making up for the lost time, enjoying seeing the other faces and hearing their voices. He moved from his studio to the kitchen, ready to start dinner for one, while she was still seated in her patio with her book on the same page she was when he called.

As she watched him move around his large kitchen, she couldn't help but become entranced by his movements. The allure of his every gesture left her feeling a little lost in the moment. “What are you cooking?”

He scratched the tip of his nose with the back of his hand. “Pizza.” She giggled when she saw that the tip of his nose was full of flour. “What are you laughing at?”

“You look cute with your nose full of flour.” She said in between laughs.

He rolled his eyes but blushed at the compliment. "Well I can't clean it right now so, focus on something else other than my handsome face." He teased her.

"It's going to be a very hard task focusing on something else." She followed his lead. "Your beauty is very distracting." Was she teasing me back? Or was she telling the truth?

"Haha, very funny, Bubble." He kept his face down, looking at what he was doing for her to not notice the blush that started creeping to his cheeks.

"I'm hilarious, I know." She moved her hair back, with a smug face. And he laughed but rolled his eyes. "Back to the pizza."

"Yeah, back to the pizza."

"You pick a few skills from Little Italy, I see." She got closer to the screen to watch what he was doing.

"First of all," he raised a finger full of flour "I was a very good pizza aficionado before the movie-"

"Show-off" She faked a cough.

He rolled his eyes again, trying not to laugh. "But, yes. I picked a few things up." He mixed the sauce.

"I wouldn't know, I have never tasted it." She had a tiny smile on her lips and her eyes had a particular shine. Or maybe it's the light from my house playing tricks with me.

"Maybe when all this pandemic is over, I can cook for you." He said looking at her, what he was doing was long forgotten, his attention solemnly on her.

The smile on her lips was breathtaking mixed with the warm light of the sun on her patio made the image burn in his brain. "I will like that very much."

His heart was beating furiously inside his chest. "It's a date then? I'm having a heart attack, surely. There's no other explanation.

She nodded, with a tiny blush on her cheeks. "It's a date." A bright smile, teeth and all.

Well, so much for keeping it professional Hayden.

July 2020, seeing you shine.

The night was darker than normal and more humid than usual in July. Not a sound could be heard in his house, besides the one caused by the weather. The hot summer weather was starting to bother him a little so the storm that was rising outside made him happy.

Miss Bubble

You up?

Confused as hell, he looked at the hour. What was she doing up at three in the morning? Was she alright? Something happened to her? Was she in danger? All the possible bad scenarios were occurring in his head, so he called her.

Pick up, Bubble, pick up. Not long passed before she answered him.

“Are you alright?” Those were the first words that left his mouth when her face came into view.

She nodded “Yeah, you?” confused.

The brunette frowned. “Yeah. Something happened?”

“No. Why?”

“Cause you texted me at three in the morning and I thought that something had happened to you, so I got scared.” He explained.

She closed her eyes and scrunched her nose. “Sorry about that, I truly didn’t mean to.” An apologetic smile appeared on her lips. “I appreciate you worrying about me, it’s really sweet.”

“Are you okay?” His heart was still beating furiously.

“A little guilty but 100% fine.” She gave him a tight smile. Hearing she was right relaxed him, all the muscles in his body loosened. “Did I wake you up?”

“Nono, I was already up.” He was sitting comfortably on the couch, his feet on the little table there and resting his phone on the thigh, cigarette in the other hand. “Why are you in the dark, though?” He squinted his eyes to look at her better.

The sound of her sitting comfortably could be heard. “I love thunderstorms and being in the dark makes them more beautiful.” You are beautiful, even in the dark. “What about you?”

He smiled at her “I'm enjoying the peaceful silence and the sound of the rain.” and took a drag of his cigarette.

“I can call you back some other time, at a decent hour.” She quickly said. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

She could see him shaking his head, thanks to the warm light that was illuminating his face. “No, no. It's okay.” He reassured her with a smile. “We can enjoy this together.” Again with the ‘together’. “you, your thunderstorm and me, my silence.”

A massive thunder illuminated the sky and he saw the big smile on those lips. “I would love that.” She was smiling because of me or because of the thunder?

“Great.” He smiled, getting comfortable.

Who knows how long it passed where his gaze took turns looking at her and then at the water falling against his big window. Her doe eyes were looking in the distance, her lips curving in a smile every time a thunder made everything tremble. The light it provided made her, in his eyes, illuminated, and shine. A few times their eyes connected and a tiny smile appeared on her lips.

Unknowing to him, she looked at him every time she felt his eyes move from the screen. Fascinated by how the cigarette smoke danced around him with the warm light that was reflecting on his face and making his hair look golden-like and his eyes had a particular shine. The artistic part of her wanted to be there, on her knees in front of him, in the angle she was from her phone, with her precious video camera in hand recording every second of him smoking that damn cigarette.

It dangled over his large fingers, but it never quite felt, on the way to his lips. Oh, those lips. They wrapped around the filter part and he hollowed his cheeks, making his bone structure more prominent. How would it feel to trace his face with the tip of my fingers? Maybe, just maybe, to finish off killing her, he exhaled the smoke through his nose tilting his head back. How can he make something so deadly as smoking, so hot, so alluring? Her eyes traced his neck, the veins there. Where is his weak spot? Can I find it with my lips?

Hayden felt her stare on him, how she was tilting her head from side to side the whole time he took a drag, slowly, just to tease her. When he moved his head, just a little bit to see her, he felt as if his heart stopped beating normally and started a fucking race. Her cheeks were flushed, even in the dark he could see it. Her lower lip was caged by her teeth and the need to free it made his hands itch. When he finally reached her eyes, oh those eyes, pupils dark and intense, lost in him, lost in desire.

If her eyes were dark, the blue in his was long gone too but that didn’t stop him from looking her up and down. The grip she had on the blanket around her was so tight that her knuckles were losing colour. The fine strip of her pyjama top was falling from her shoulder, leaving him free access for his eyes to trace the journey from her clavicle, to her neck to the jaw. He gulped at such a display of skin, feeling like a horny thirteen-year-old, Will I ever have the privilege to feel her skin with my lips?, like he travelled back in time and was one of those men that get horny by a glimpse of an ankle.

Their eyes finally met and it was like someone left hell and heaven gates opened. They were on Facetime but the tension, the burning sensation, around them was real. They both felt it. But at the same time, they were sure that giving in would be like touching the sky. It would be a sin I would be glad to commit.

Hayden said her name in a low and husky tone. His tone is going to be the death of me.

"Hayden," she replied, trying to keep her own voice steady, but failing miserably. Whisper my name in my ear with your soft tone. Shout it at the top of your lungs too.

That simple gesture of saying the other’s name made the tension grow stronger. Their hearts were racing, they were heavily breathing.

He leant closer, and brought her closer, more like his phone screen, to say something. What are you going to say, Hayden? That you want to cross the line so far with her so damn much it would look like a fucking dot if you look back? That you know it’s unprofessional the feelings you have for her? That those eleven years between you two are going to be the death of you?

She swallowed hard, ready for whatever he was going to say. Are you ready to admit that you have been dying to kiss him, tangling your fingers in his hair, since the first day you saw him? Are you going to tell him that only by looking at you he makes you weak on the knees and that you have to mentally restrain yourself to not giggle and twirl your hair?

There was only one thing that was running around in their minds. Not physical, because there were plenty of those in their heads. God, I wish you were here with me, I wish I had you right here in front of me so I could kiss you. Show you all the things I feel for you but that I’m too cowardly to tell.

A very loud thunder broke the bubble they were wrapped in and brought them back from the tunnel they were getting themselves into. He cleared his throat and looked at the ceiling of his house, taking a deep breath, while she arranged her hair and sat straight. “Look at the time.” What, Hayden? Are you an idiot?

“Yeah, it’s-” She cleared her throat too because her voice sounded breathless “It’s getting late.”

The brunette nodded, agreeing with her. “Yeah, yeah.” Truth be told, it was like five-thirty in the morning.

The two fools bid goodbye, saying that they would be heading to bed and that they would call some other time. But instead, they stayed sitting in their respective houses. Going over and over again what happened. How they almost gave in in the heat of the moment.

September 2020, you never cease to amaze me.

If the sweet moments were too much before, the sexual tension of that July night was something that went out of their hands.

Since that call, Hayden’s brain has been playing tricks with him almost every night. Dreaming all sorts of things with her, it was divided between the nastiest of them and the most domestic too. Railing her watching the Eiffel Tower, leaving love bites all over the visible, just for him, parts of her body and then taking a walk on the French streets hand in hand, or having coffee in the morning and cleaning the foam off the tip of her nose and then kissing it.

Dreaming of her never failed to leave him wishing for more, praying for more. After a very vivid, specific, hot dream where he wasn’t going to be able to look her in the eyes for a good couple of days, he had to put space between them. So the facetimes were a big no because the dream kept repeating in the back of his mind, every day, and looking her in the eye would make a mess of him.

But now, after nearly two months, he was more than happy to look at her beautiful face. Eager even. Why? Curiosity got the best of him and he had googled her, just to see her work and ended up watching a movie of hers. To say he was fascinated, and amazed was understandable. Hayden always knew she was incredible, but the way he ended up at the edge of his seat, wanting more of her art, was something that didn’t happen every time he watched a movie.

She answered right away, her glasses on the bright of her nose. “Hi.”

“You…you…” she looked at him, raising an eyebrow, “you are a work of art.” Coming up strong I see. The truth in his voice, in his eyes, came from his heart.

Slowly, a smile appeared on her lips “What?” and a little laugh escaped them.

“I just watched one of your movies and…and…” she looked like a deer caught in headlights “and it’s amazing.” A smile adorned his lips. “You are amazing.”

She dropped what she was doing and looked directly at him. “You really think that?”

“Of course.” Sincerity laced in his tone. “I think that since I met you, sorry if I never told you, Bubble.” The way she looked down, hiding her cute smile, made his hands itch to lift her chin to be able to see it in person.

“A little reminder from time to time, wouldn’t harm you know.” She joked, making him laugh.

“Sure, I’ll remind it to you.” He winked. “But not all the time, we wouldn’t want you to be a show-off.” It was her turn to laugh about it. Her sweet laugh was music to his ears.

Hayden turned into a fan of hers, bombarding her with questions left and right about what inspired her, why things were how they were in the movie and every little detail about it. And she happily answered it, giving him her complete attention.

The title ‘Little Miss Director’ was too small for her, actually, it didn’t fit her at all. In his eyes, and surely in the eyes of everyone who met her, she was a great director, a splendid artist worthy of awards. It didn’t matter that she was young. The brunette was eager to see her in her element, in the field guiding the team so that the vision she had for the script, which she was putting sweat and tears into making, would come true.

“Ewan’s words did not make you justice, nor to your work.”

She frowned. “What did he say?”

“Basically, that you were amazing.” She giggled, nervously, blush creeping to her cheeks. “But nothing more, I tried to pry details away but he didn’t slip, not even once.” He joked and a true laugh escaped her lips. A proud smile plastered on his face by the fact of being able to make her laugh.

She nodded. “At this point, I think he’s as proud of me as my dad.” They laughed.

“He is!” The brunette reassured her. “Crazy proud.”

“I adored him.” She confessed and he nodded, feeling the same for the Scottish.

You adore me too? “And he always said that you are a well-deserved award winner.”

She opened her eyes big, “Yes, I have a few.” and mumbled.

At that point, he was comfortably seated on his sofa, hand supporting his head and his attention fully on her. “I know.” She raised her eyebrows, surprised. “I may or may not have googled you.” He admitted hiding his face, a little ashamed. Perfect, now she would think I'm some creep stalking her. But her sweet laugh reached his ears.

“Please tell me how unflattering the pictures are?” She asked, still laughing. “I’ve never googled myself.”

He shook his head. “There’s no pictures of you.” She frowned. “Which I found odd for someone who has three Spirit Awards under her belt, one feature film nominated in Cannes and one Caméra d’Or.” He had a proud smile on his lips and she blushed but with a smile so big it closed her eyes. “Absolutely amazing.” He clapped at her and she blushed harder. “I’m crazy proud of you too.” While I’m at it, why don’t I tell her that I have a 13-year-old boy crush on her? Make myself 100% embarrassed.

Maybe it was the lighting in her house, maybe it was his imagination, but Hayden could swear she had tears in her eyes. “Thank you, Hayden.” The brunette nodded.

They talked a little more about the awards and the technical aspects of the movies she made. “One thing I still don’t understand is” she raised an eyebrow, curiously “How a face like yours isn’t plastered all over the place?”

“Is that a compliment?” Her head tilted to the side.

“Of course it is,” he said, nodding. “You are absolutely beautiful.” Subtlety is not my thing, clearly.

It was like he was trying to see how many times he could make her blush in a single conversation. Because those words made her red like a tomato, to the point she could feel how warm her cheeks were. “Thank you.” And he bowed his head again, happy to compliment her. “The photo thing is because I try to blend in as much as possible,” he frowned, “which is easy, when what all the people are most interested in is taking photos of the young models and big actresses there.”

He tried to rack his brain thinking of what young models or actresses had that she hadn't. And the answer was nothing. She was beautiful, like a breath of fresh air, fashionable and had a smile that could light up any room. But behind everything physical, she was funny, artistic and intelligent like no other. Hayden was pretty sure his words came up short if he tried to describe her.

“Besides,” her voice brought him back, “I wanted to be taken seriously at that time for future works, so if there wasn’t a picture of me it was better.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to be judged by my age, which people tend to do.” She pursed her lips. “No one would hire me to do a movie if they found out I was that young when I started. Not that the no pictures stopped them, because when they saw me in person a few backed down from the offer, but I fought tooth and nail for my art, my work.”

The scene in the first reading table came to his mind. “You still do.” She nodded. “That’s why you ran after standing your ground in the incident with the writer that time?”

She nodded. “He was rude as hell, not the first time that a male writer was rude to me, but the condescending way he said it boiled my blood.” She remembered, shaking her head. “I had to get away from that room before I lost my mind.” That was why he hadn’t found her when he looked for her. “But, back on topic, I like having a low profile”

He nodded, “Yeah that’s a feeling I can resemble.” She raised her eyebrows for a few seconds. “I like my private life.”

“I totally agree, like I will not make my life a circus for all the media to pick apart.” They were both nodding eagerly, happy to be thinking the same thing. “I mean, I'll pose if it's strictly necessary, otherwise I'll avoid it like the plague.” She said laughing.

He tilted his head to the side, frowning. “What you mean?”

She shrugged. “All the flashes and screams, being the centre of attention, the madness, I don't know, it gives me anxiety.” He knew what she was talking about. “And I like being behind the camera, I’m much more comfortable there.”

It was a little criminal to him that something as beautiful as she liked to be hidden from the lenses, away from the world to witness, but a tiny part of him, the selfish part, loved being one of the few who really knew her, or was starting to do.

At that point, the list of things Hayden noticed about her turned into a notepad. The things he kept learning about her day after day, text after text, facetime after Facetime, meant a lot to him. The trust she had in him made him feel special.

Next Part →

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