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cherryxbooo · 13 hours ago

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Not the same anymore

Summary: After ending his three-year-long relationship due to his friend’s influence, Lando tries everything to get his lover back.

Note: I’m back!!! The winner of the poll I set up was loud and clear! I hope all of you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! P.s buckle up this one is a long one!

Reader x Lando Norris

Genre: fluff/angst

I had been dating Lando for three years, and our relationship was everything I could have ever hoped for. We met at an event, our eyes locking from across the room. He was so handsome, his smile blinding, and I knew right then that I had to talk to him. Except I was too shy to approach him. At that moment it felt like the universe heard me and made Lando approach me. We talked all evening long and we hit it off instantly.

From that moment on, we were practically inseparable. We spent hours talking and getting to know each other, our bond growing stronger with every conversation. I still remembered vividly how he had made me laugh until my sides hurt, how he listened with genuine interest to every word I said.

I remembered the excitement and anticipation when he asked me out, the butterflies in my stomach when he first held my hand. It felt like a fairy-tale come true, and I knew from that moment on that he was the one for me. We shared so many moments of joy, of happiness, and even the occasional disagreement, but we always worked through them together.

At first, I tried not to worry, thinking it was just a phase, but the changes in him only became more pronounced. He was less responsive to my texts and calls, and he seemed to prioritize spending time with his friends over me. I felt lonely and confused, unsure of what had caused this sudden shift.

Lando invited me to his place, and I was excited. I thought he was doing just the same, planning to spend some quality time together.

However, as soon as we found ourselves alone, Lando's face was serious, and my heart started to pound. I knew something terrible was about to happen.

Lando sat down next to me, his gaze fixed on the floor. There was a long, heavy silence before he finally spoke.

"We need to talk," he said, his voice almost a whisper.My heart dropped. Those words... they were never good.

I sat there, feeling the dread settling in my stomach. I knew whatever was about to come couldn't be good. Lando took a deep breath, but his face remained serious.

"I think... we need to break up."

I felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room. Break up? The words hung heavy in the air, and my mind struggled to process them.

"W...what?" I managed to choke out, my voice shaking slightly. "Why, Lando?"

He avoided my gaze, his fingers fidgeting nervously. "It's just... I need to focus on my career right now," he said, his voice robotic, like he was reciting lines. "Being in a relationship is a distraction, and I can't let it interfere with my goals."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. He was throwing away our three years together with such ease, as if it meant nothing. I tried to reason with him, to remind him of all the happy memories we had shared.

"We've been together for three years!" I said, my voice rising in volume. "Why is it suddenly a problem now?"

"I need to be 100% focused," Lando insisted, finally meeting my eyes. "It's not just about the amount of time, y/n. It's about the current moment, and right now, my career is my priority." He sounded almost cold, like he was pushing me away.

I felt tears welling up in my eyes, but I fought them back. How could I mean so little to him, that he would discard our relationship so easily?

"What about us, Lando? What about everything we've been through together?" I pleaded, my voice shaky.

He remained stoic, his expression unchanging. "I'm sorry, y/n," he said, his tone lacking emotion. "But my mind is made up."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It felt as though he was a stranger, a shell of the man I had fallen in love with. “You don’t mean any of it! You’re just stressed.”

Lando seemed to snap. "My friends were right," he said, his tone sharp. "This is for the best. Now, I don't need the distraction of a relationship, and I'm better off without you."

His words felt like a stab in the heart, and I couldn't hold back the tears any longer. I wanted to defend myself, to challenge him, but his friends were the last thing I wanted to bring up.

But I couldn't help it. "Your friends?" I shot back. "They're the worst! All they care about is partying, drinking, and living off your money.”

Lando's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing. "Don't you dare talk about my friends like that," he snapped, his tone filled with resentment. "They're the ones who are always there to support me, unlike some people."

I couldn't hold back anymore, the emotions boiling over. "Unlike some people? Are you kidding me?" I retorted, my voice cracking. "Who was there for you when you were doubting yourself? Who stayed up late with you, listening to your worries, pushing you to keep going? Wasn't it me?"

He looked stung, but he shook his head, trying to uphold his cold facade. "That's not how things work," he said stiffly. "My career is my top priority, and I don't have time for anything else."

I felt my own anger rising to match his. "So, you're telling me three years of love, support, and understanding mean nothing to you? Just throw it all away for the sake of your career?"

Lando stood up, his face tense. "The decision is made. I don't need a distraction right now, and that's what you are. A distraction." His words felt like a slap in the face.

My heart shattered, each word breaking another piece of it. How could he turn our love into nothing more than a mere bother? How could he talk to me like this? But I couldn't let myself break down fully. Not here, not in front of him. I clenched my fists, trying to hold back tears and keep my composure.

"Fine," I said, my voice cold. "If I'm just a distraction, then go ahead. Focus on your oh-so-important career." I crossed my arms, trying to hide how much his words had hurt me.

"And you know what, Lando?" I continued, my voice rising. "Your friends? They're all using you. They're not true friends; they're just there 'cause you're famous and rich."

Lando's face twisted in anger at my words. "How dare you talk about my friends like that?" he sneered, his tone spiteful. "They're the ones who have supported me through everything. They're true friends, unlike you. Maybe that's why I'm better off without you."

My eyes narrowed. He had crossed a line. How dare he? "At least I never used you. I loved you for you, not for your fame or your money," I shot back.

He laughed, a humorless, bitter laugh. "Love? Please. You only liked being with a famous guy. The attention it brought you, the luxury. Let's not pretend this wasn't also about status for you."

I felt my fist clenching so hard it hurt. "You know that's not true," I said through gritted teeth. "I never cared about your fame or money. I loved who you were, or at least who I thought you were."

"Oh, really?" Lando challenged, his tone sharp. "Then why didn't you ever say no to the fancy parties or designer clothes I bought you? Don't pretend you didn't enjoy it."

I felt like my chest was tightening with every one of his accusations. How could he twist things like that, making it seem like I only cared about his money? It was so far from the truth. The minute those words left his mouth I knew it was his friends feeding him these lies about me.

"Those were gifts, Lando," I said, my voice cracking. "I loved them because they came from you, not because they were expensive!"

I didn’t let him speak as I grabbed my bag, my hands shaking with emotion. "Fine. Just don't contact me ever again," I said, my voice cold and void of emotion. "This is over. You’re not the same anymore.”

I walked out of his place, my steps heavy and numb. I didn't look back, afraid of seeing him or breaking down in tears. I just wanted to leave, to get away from his words that echoed in my head, and the painful ache in my heart.

As I stepped outside, the fresh air felt like both a relief and a cold slap in the face. I hailed a taxi, and as I watched the familiar streets pass by, I felt as though my old, happy life had shattered into pieces. I had given him everything, and he had thrown it all away for his stupid career. I would never make that mistake again, I promised myself.

Lando sat in his place alone after she left, the silence of his now-empty home weighing heavily on him. He started thinking about the breakup, feeling a pang of guilt, but quickly pushed it aside, remembering that he had chosen his career over her. It was for the best, he told himself, repeating what his friends had been telling him.

As the hours passed, the guilt started to fade, numbed by the pain and the alcohol he poured himself. He eventually called his friends, and they eagerly agreed to come over, happy to hear he had broken up with his now ex-girlfriend.

They arrived, with smiles on their faces, their eyes glinting with anticipation. "Finally, you get to live a little without that distraction!" one of them said, slapping Lando's back. "We're gonna party hard tonight, man! You deserve it."

Lando felt himself slipping into a numbing haze, the alcohol dulling his emotions and his conscience. He allowed himself to be guided by his friends, their words like sweet poison, promising him that he was better off without me, that he wouldn't miss her. They started planning their night out at a flashy new club, their enthusiasm infectious in Lando's alcohol-doused state.

Lando found himself nodding along, his resistance fading away with each drink. The idea of partying seemed like a good escape, a way to drown out the guilt and the loneliness. He convinced himself that tonight, he would let loose and forget, throwing himself into the nightlife and the company of his so-called friends.

As the night progressed, Lando found himself increasingly affected by the alcohol he had consumed. The world started blurring at the edges, and his thoughts became a jumbled mess. He grabbed his phone, his fingers clumsy as he fumbled with the buttons. After several clumsy taps and misdialed numbers, he finally managed to dial Max's number.

As the call went through, he heard Max Fewtrell answer from the other end. "Lando? What the hell, it's 3 am, are you drunk?"

Lando let out a chuckle, his voice slurred. "Heyyy, Maxxy," he said, his words tripping over themselves. "You sound so grumpy. Come ooon, I need to talk to youeee."

Max sighed, rubbing his eyes, trying to shake the sleep from his voice. "Lando, this better be important. I was trying to sleep, you know." His tone was annoyed, but the concern was evident under the surface.

Lando ignored Max’s tone, his mind swimming with alcohol-induced impulsiveness. "I need to talk, buddy," he said, his words stumbling over each other. "It's about y/n."

Max sat up in his bed, his annoyance fading in the face of Lando's evident distress. He cleared his throat, trying to sound more awake and alert. "Okay, Lando, I'm listening," he said, his voice steady.

Lando took a deep breath, his words slurred. "Max, I messed up, I really messed up," he slurred, his voice cracking. "I broke up with y/n, and man, I feel like crap. I miss her, Max. I miss her, and it... it hurts, Max, it hurts so much." The line of words came out in a jumble, the weight of his emotions too heavy to hide under his inebriated state.

Max let out a sigh, his concern growing with Lando's admission. "Okay, Lando, listen to me. Stay exactly where you are, and for god's sake, don't go anywhere else. Tell me the name of the club, and I'll come get you."

Lando mumbled the name of the club through the phone, his words a bit muffled. "It's... uh, it's called 'The Neon Lights.' It's that new club in town, very fancy. Can't miss the neon lights," he hiccuped.

Max sighed, rubbing his temples. "Alright, Lando. I'm on my way. Just don't do anything stupid. Just stay put and wait for me." Max quickly got dressed, leaving his bed behind for the task ahead.

Max drove as fast as he could, and reached the club soon. He spotted Lando right away. His best friend was sitting outside, next to a homeless man, laughing loudly in his inebriated state.

Max couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Lando's current predicament. He approached them, giving the homeless man a nod in greeting. "Alright, Lando, let's go," Max said, reaching out to grab Lando by the arm to help him onto his feet.

Lando tried to protest, but his words came out as a muddled mess. "No, wait! I was just having a talk with him!" he argued, hiccuping. He tried to pull away from Max, but his balance was too shaky. "He's a cool guy, Max. Look!" Lando gestured at the homeless man, his movements exaggerated.

Max shook his head, trying to keep his composure. "Lando, stop making a fool of yourself. Let's go, you're coming with me." He gently led Lando away, making sure he didn’t stumble and fall.

By now, a few people from the club were giving them odd looks, amused by the sight of an apparently famous driver being a mess outside. Max just focused on guiding Lando away, thankful no one had recognized him. "Come on, buddy," he said softly, his arms holding him steady.

Lando put up minimal resistance, his limbs heavy and uncooperative. He tried to protest but his words only slurred together, making it impossible to understand. His legs felt like jelly, and he let Max guide him to his car, his head spinning from the alcohol.

Once they reached the car, Max opened the passenger door for Lando, gently guiding him into the seat. Lando slumped in with a groan, his eyes flickering. Max secured Lando's seat belt, making sure he was as safe as he could be in his current state.

As they arrived at Lando's apartment, Max helped Lando out of the car, his feet dragging sluggishly. Walking him to his bed was a challenge, as Lando leaned heavily on Max. With effort, they finally made it to the bedroom, where Lando practically flopped onto his bed, groaning as his head spun.

Max was concerned about Lando, still inebriated and vulnerable. He grabbed some medication and water, placing them on the bedside table for when Lando woke up. He covered Lando with a thin blanket, making sure he wouldn't be cold in the night. He left quietly, making a mental note to check on him in the morning, closing the door softly behind him.

Max returned to Lando's place the next morning, his concern for him still lingering. He used the spare key Lando had given him and let himself inside the apartment. There was a noticeable silence, the aftermath of Lando's excessive drinking still hung heavily in the air.

Max was in the kitchen by the time Lando trudged down, looking half dead from the night before. His hair was tousled, his eyes bloodshot, and his face pale. He groaned as he spotted Max standing by the counter, a cup of coffee and a plate of breakfast ready.

Max watched as Lando slumped into a chair, cradling his head in his hands. "What the hell were you thinking, Lando? You were drunk off your ass," Max scolded gently, his voice laced with worry.

Lando winced as he lifted his head, his eyes squint to slits. "I... I don't know. Needed a distraction," he groaned, his voice hoarse. The alcohol had taken its toll, and he felt like death warmed over.

Max sighed, pushing the cup of coffee towards Lando. "There are better ways to distract yourself than getting drunk, Lando. What if the media had found out? You could have jeopardized your entire career."

Max paused, his gaze fixed on Lando’s disheveled state. "So who were you with last night? Who was irresponsible enough to let you drink in such a state, and then leave you alone in that condition?"

Lando rubbed his temples, trying to remember through his foggy memory. "Some friends," he mumbled, avoiding Max's accusing stare.

"You know, just some guys I hang out with sometimes. They were partying, and I... I don't know, I joined in." He paused, trying to compose himself. "Then I got drunk and they... they left."

Max’s eyes narrowed, seeing right through it. "Those friends, right? Are those the ones who always use you, Lando? The ones who take advantage of your fame?" His voice was sharp and filled with frustration, knowing exactly how those 'friends' manipulated Lando.

Max’s tone was hard as he continued, his questions probing deeper. "Did they invite you or did they just drag you along with them? Because I know how they are, Lando. They always take advantage of you. They use you for your money, your fame, and never really care about you."

Lando hesitated, his eyes downcast. He knew Max had a point. "I... they invited me," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "But I went because I wanted to forget. I wanted to forget her." His voice trembled slightly, the pain he felt creeping into his voice.

Max's ears perked up at the mention of y/n. "Is that why you broke up with y/n, then?" Max's tone softened slightly, realizing this was a sore subject.

"Because you wanted to forget her? To distract yourself from the pain?" He saw Lando wince at the mention of her name, and it confirmed his suspicions.

Lando swallowed hard, the pain in his eyes speaking volumes. "I... yes," he whispered. "I thought if I ended things, it would make it easier, but it's only made it worse." His voice shook with regret, the weight of his mistake heavy on his shoulders.

Max probed further, sensing there was more to this. "Were the friends the ones who influenced you to break up with y/n, Lando?" He had a feeling they were involved, knowing their toxic nature.

Lando shifted uncomfortably, not meeting Max's gaze. "They... they encouraged it, yeah," he admitted, his voice quiet, almost ashamed.

"They kept saying she was holding me back, that a relationship would only hinder my career, and I... I let them get into my head."

Max was furious. He had seen how much y/n loved Lando, how much she supported him at every turn, and now he had thrown it all away because of some 'friends' who didn't care about him. "They're the worst, Lando!" His voice rose. "They don't care about you, not like she does. She's been there for you, through everything. And you let them poison you against her?"

Lando closed his eyes, the reality of Max's words piercing through his foggy mind. Max was right. He had let himself be manipulated by his so-called friends, allowing them to turn him against the one person who genuinely cared about him.

"I know," he whispered, his voice choked. "I messed up. I'm an idiot."

Max sighed, his frustration mingling with a sense of compassion.

"You're not an idiot, Lando. But you made a terrible mistake. You let yourself be led astray by the wrong people. Those friends, they're poison. And y/n... she's the one who truly cares for you. You need to fight for her, Lando. Don't let them ruin what you and y/n had."

Lando admitted, his voice filled with regret and defeat. "It's too late, Max. She has blocked me everywhere. She doesn't want anything to do with me." His shoulders slumped, the weight of his mistake heavy on him. "She probably hates me now, and I don't blame her. I hurt her, Max. I don't think she'll ever take me back."

Max, determined to help Lando, decided to take matters into his own hands. He texted y/n, hoping to plead on Lando's behalf, but Max was met with a cold wall - she had blocked him too. Frustration welled up inside, knowing how much of a hole Lando had dug for himself.

"Lando," he said, his tone heavy, "She blocked me too. This is going to be harder than I thought."

Lando flinched as Max confirmed y/n had blocked him too. It felt like the finality of his mistake, like the door to reconciliation was slammed shut, and he had no way to open it.

"I can't blame her," Lando muttered, his eyes downcast. "I messed up so badly. She's got every right to hate me now."

Lando's phone suddenly buzzed with a text from one of his 'friends,' inviting him out again. But before Lando could even react, Max swiped the phone from his hand, angrily blocking them all.

Lando stared at Max, a mix of shock and annoyance on his face. "Dude, what the hell!" he exclaimed, trying to get his phone back.

Max's expression was serious, his tone firm. "Those friends of yours are poison," he stated, holding the phone just out of Lando's reach. "They're the ones who encouraged you to break up with y/n. They're not your real friends, and I'm not letting them influence you further."

Lando tried to reach for his phone again, his eyes blazing with frustration. "Max, please give me my phone. You can't just block them all! Those are my friends!" He sounded desperate, trying to justify something he knew deep down was wrong.

Max stood his ground, shaking his head. "No, Lando. Those friends are the reason we're in this mess right now. They don't have your best interests at heart. They only care about what they can gain from you. You need to see that!" His grip on the phone remained firm, not giving Lando any chance to retrieve it.

Lando, still hungover and angry, tried to make his case. "But... but they're the only ones who are there for me, Max!" Lando argued, desperation lacing his voice. "They're the ones who party with me when I feel down. They're the ones who go out to clubs while y/n stays home. They're just trying to look out for me."

Max's patience wore thin, his anger boiling over. He threw the phone at Lando with a snap, the device landing on the bed next to him. "Fine!" Max sneered, his voice cold. "Figure it out on your own, Lando. Seems you'd rather listen to those so-called friends than hear the truth. See how far they take you."

Lando flinched as Max threw the phone at him, feeling a mix of guilt and stubbornness bubbling inside. Max's words rang true, a painful reminder of the fact that he was defending his toxic friends over the one person who cared. But in his hungover state, he was stubborn, unwilling to admit his friends were the ones pulling him into a toxic pit.

"Fine!" Lando retorted, his voice rising. "I don't need you trying to control my life! And I don't need y/n. I can do whatever I want with my friends!" He grabbed his phone, clutching it tightly, his anger and resentment towards Max growing.

Max stormed out, leaving Lando alone in that moment, his thoughts swirling like a storm. Lando sat in silence, surrounded by the chaos he had created, and the weight of his choices. Max's absence left him with nothing but his own thoughts and the quiet, empty apartment, the reality of his situation setting in.

Days blurred together as I drowned myself in work, my fingers flying over the keyboard, creating numbers and reports that seemed like a lifeline in this sea of heartache. The silence of my apartment was too loud, so I stayed at the office, working until exhaustion took hold.

My best friend grew worried, her concern palpable, but I couldn't bring myself to open up. Who would even want to listen to my sob story, anyway?

I couldn't even bring myself to think about our breakup, the pain still too fresh. Work was my solace, a way to stay one step ahead of the thoughts that threatened to consume me. I tried to focus on the numbers, the deadlines – anything to avoid confronting the reality of my shattered heart.

But as much as I worked, the pain lingered, refusing to fade away. Every now and then, I'd find myself staring off into space, the memories of our time together flooding back. The sound of Lando's laughter, his warm touch, it all came crashing back in waves that threatened to crush me.

Lost in my own world, the sound of my best friend's voice finally broke through the fog of my thoughts. She had been calling my name for the past five minutes, but I hadn't heard a word, too consumed by my own internal battle. I blinked a few times, trying to shake off the daze.

She stood by my cubicle, her expression a mix of worry and concern. "Y/N, are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft. "I've been trying to get your attention for a while now."

I blinked again, trying to shake off the haze and focus on her words. "Yeah, I'm fine," I lied through clenched teeth, forcing a small smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. "Just really focused on this project." I tried to sound convincing, but I couldn't meet her gaze.

My best friend gently urged, "Y/N, I'm here for you, whenever you're ready to open up. How about a girls' night out tonight? A chance to take your mind off things? You need a break."

Each word felt like a lifeline. She knew just what I needed, an opportunity to lose myself for a moment without the weight of the breakup suffocating me.

The distraction of a girls' night out sounded tempting. I'd have a chance to let go, to pretend things were fine for a while. "Okay," I softly agreed, a small hint of warmth amidst the pain. "A girls' night sounds great. Let's do it."

As the hours passed, I tried to focus on the preparations, changing into something comfortable after my long day of work. But as I stood in front of the mirror, my mind kept wandering, the memories of Lando and the happier times we shared together. I took a deep breath, locking those thoughts away at the back of my mind, and plastered on a smile.

We met at a nearby bar, the noise and laughter a stark contrast to the silence of my apartment.

My best friend tried to engage me in conversation, steering clear of any topics about relationships or exes. The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and I found myself sipping on my favorite cocktail, letting the alcohol blunt the edges of my pain for just a moment.

As the night progressed, my best friend knew something was still weighing heavily on me. She steered the conversation deeper, her eyes meeting mine in understanding. "Y/N, really, what's going on? I can see something's eating at you."

I sighed, taking another sip. The alcohol had loosened my tongue, and the pain I'd locked away started to slip out.

I hesitated for a moment, then the floodgates opened. The alcohol had loosened my tongue, and with each sip, the words poured out. "Me and Lando broke up," I said, my voice wavering. The pain I'd tried to hide finally came out in the open.

My best friend listened without interruption as I told her everything - the pain, the doubts, the sense of loss. She held my hand, her thumb running across the back of my hand in a comforting gesture, allowing me to release all the emotions I had been holding in.

The pain intensified as I allowed myself to acknowledge it again. "I still miss him," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper, "but I can't go back to him. Not after everything he put me through."

My best friend stayed silent, letting me take the lead, listening without judgment, offering reassurance with her hand, holding mine firmly.

Her words were gentle, yet comforting. "You're strong, Y/N," she said, squeezing my hands. "It hurts, and it's hard, but you'll get through this. I'm here for you every step of the way."

Her words provided solace, reminding me of my own strength, even when I felt like I was crumbling.

She was right; I had gotten through tough times before. This, too, would pass. I tried to hold onto those words, a glimmer of hope in the midst of hurt. I wiped away my tears, taking a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

After hours we decided to call it a night. As my best friend dropped me off at my apartment, the night's diversion ended, and the silence of my apartment fell heavily around me.

The momentary respite from the pain had come to an end, and the reality of being alone set in again. I tried to ignore the loneliness, the emptiness without Lando. Instead, I got ready for bed, trying to find solace in routine.

I reached for my phone in an attempt to distract myself from the memories that kept invading my thoughts. But as I opened it, I was met with a barrage of social media updates about Lando and me - our pictures together, speculation, and the truth I had been trying to escape. The pain hit me all over again as I saw others asking about our breakup, theories swirling around me.

f1gossippofficial

Liked by formula1_news, f1_wags and others

f1gossippoffical Trouble in Paradise? Fans have suspected that Formula One driver Lando Norris has broken up with his girlfriend Y/N. The pair have unfollowed each other on all platforms and haven't been seen together in months. This suspicion was confirmed after fans saw Lando getting drunk at a club without his partner, living his life. What do you think happened? Follow for more updates!

View all comments

loveformywags2 What? Is this confirmed? This can't be right?! 🥲

lalalandlando4 He deserved better anyways 🤷‍♀️

f1maniaclvr Do y/n and Lando know about this? 🤦‍♀️

pookielanscar481 It's just odd that he was seen being drunk out of his mind without her

mam4you81 That's what I was thinking... What if she broke up with him and he's drowning himself in alcohol?

nanalalaf14 Honestly I don't think so, I think he dumped her since he had stopped interacting with her on his socials while she still liked and commented on all his posts.

4everf1loca NOOOOO my sheilaaaaa 😭

As I scrolled through the comments, reading the theories about us, a bitter realization hit me. They were only seeing the surface, the façade we had carefully crafted for the public. If only they knew what had really happened, the pain, the reasons behind our breakup.

The comments were full of speculation and curiosity. People thought they knew our love story, but they knew nothing. They didn't see the fights, the lies, the coldness between us. Their theories felt like a slap in the face, mocking the reality of our relationship.

All I knew at this moment was that I should take the time to heal and not let anyone ruin this for me.

Months had passed since the breakup, and I had finally made significant progress in my healing journey. Though the memory of Lando and our heartbreak still lingered, I had come a long way. I had focused on myself, investing time in hobbies, spending quality time with my friends, and allowing myself to heal.

I had established boundaries, avoiding social media and news about Lando that would reopen the wounds. I started a new project at work, pouring my energy into something productive. Slowly, I felt like I was rebuilding myself.

Right now, I was sat with my best friend, enjoying lunch together. My phone buzzed with a notification from an old group chat I had almost forgotten about. It was the group chat I used to be part of, with Kika and Alex.

When I opened it, I was greeted with a flood of messages, the group hasn't been active ever since my break up. So I was curious to see what this was all about.

My best friend, curious, noticed the notification that I had checked my phone. She gave me a questioning look, asking, "What was that about?"

"It's an old group chat from two of my WAG friends," I explained. "They want to catch up during the next GP."

My best friend raised her eyebrow, visibly curious. "And are you going to go?" she asked, her voice gentle but eager to know.

"At first, I didn't really want to go because of... well, Lando being there," I admitted, a mixture of hesitation and bravery in my voice. "But then I thought why should I let him dictate what I do? I shouldn't be scared of him, right?"

I paused, my determination showing through. "So, yes, I agreed to go."

My best friend's face lit up with happiness as she heard my decision. "I'm so proud of you!" she said, her pride shining through. "You're not letting him hold you back or influence you anymore. That's such a huge step forward, and you should be proud of yourself."

For a moment, seeing my best friend's proud expression filled me with a surge of bravery. She was right; I wasn't letting Lando affect my decisions anymore. I was taking control of my life again, one choice at a time.

As I laughed with my best friend, the weight of Lando gradually faded into the background. We continued talking, laughing, and enjoying our lunch together. Lando's name didn't come up in conversation. For now, he was just a distant thought, overshadowed by the joys of friendship and healing.

Lando stood in the McLaren garage during the Silverstone GP, his entourage of fake friends surrounding him in his papaya-colored driver overalls. They joked, laughed, and offered their hollow support, all while he got ready for the race.

Amidst the laughter, Lando's thoughts turned to y/n. He missed her, the void she had left in his life was still present, gnawing at him. He had tried to reach out, creating new accounts, but he found himself blocked at every turn, silence his only reply. It was as if the universe itself was holding back any chance of them reconnecting, driving home his deepest fears and regrets.

Lando snapped out of his pensive state, focusing his mind back on the race ahead. He had a job to do, after all. With a firm tone, he told his friends to stay put, to relax and enjoy the race while he got ready. His determination was evident, a momentary distraction from his heart's constant ache.

Lando quickly realised that he had forgotten his phone. As he retraced his steps to retrieve his phone, he heard muffled voices from within his driver's room. Curious, he stopped before he entered, straining to hear the conversation inside.

Michael chuckled, his voice dripping with amusement. "Can you believe Lando was so stupid to break up with her?" Sam agreed wholeheartedly, a sneer on his face. "She was perfect for him, a distraction holding him back from his true potential."

Jake snorted. "Yeah, she was a total inconvenience, always nagging and taking up his time and money. Good riddance, I say."

They shared a cruel laugh, satisfied with their opinions. The conversation between Lando's fake friends revealed their true intentions - to have Lando's undivided attention, away from someone who truly cared about him.

They continued their conversation, mocking y/n's influence on Lando. Michael spoke with a mischievous grin. "It was a piece of cake convincing him. He ate up everything we said like a fool."

John snorted in agreement. "Yeah, we made sure he saw her as a hindrance. Now we have him all to ourselves, no competition."

James interjected, a cruel glint in his eyes. "We convinced him she was holding him back, that he needed to focus on his racing. We even convinced him she was just after his money. Classic play."

They chuckled, pleased with the web of lies they had spun. Michael added, "He doesn't even know what's good for him. We'll keep him under our control, keeping his attention and his wealth all to ourselves. He's too naive to see through us."

Sam, the schemer, couldn't contain his glee. "This has been the easiest con ever. Lando's so trusting, so foolish. We just have to keep filling his head with our lies, and he'll do whatever we want."

Lando, his heart heavy with the revelations, stormed back into the room, anger seeping through his every feature. His fists clenched, his eyes darkened in fury. He couldn't believe how easily he had been manipulated, how blind he had been to the deceit around him.

"How could I be so stupid?" he bellowed, staring down the group.

The group of fake friends froze, their faces stunned. They stared at Lando, wide-eyed, their laughter abruptly silenced. They hadn't expected Lando to return so soon, or to have overheard their malicious conversation.

Lando's voice trembled with a mix of fury and pain. "I can't believe I let you manipulate me like this!" His eyes burned with a potent blend of anger and regret. He stepped closer, his voice filled with a mixture of disgust and hurt. "You were behind all of this, convincing me to break up with her, making me think she was holding me back."

The friends, caught off guard, tried to scramble for excuses. But Lando's words cut through their attempts to justify themselves. Michael spoke up, his voice trembling, "We... we were just looking out for you, Lando. We thought she was holding you back. We wanted what's best for your career, that's all."

Sam chimed in, trying to appease Lando. "We were trying to help you, Lando. We saw how she was distracting you, taking up your time and money. You need to focus on your racing. You're our golden goose!" He forced a fake chuckle, hoping Lando would buy into the manipulation again.

Lando clenched his fists, his body trembling with fury. "You didn't care about what's best for me. All you cared about was having me all to yourselves, using me for my fame and money. You manipulated me, turning me against the one person who loved me truly."

Jake tried to interject, his voice oozing with false concern. "Lando, we did care about you. We just wanted to protect you from a bad influence. We didn't want you to be taken advantage of." He attempted a manipulative smile, trying to deflect the blame onto me.

Lando's voice rose in intensity, his anger boiling over. "Don't you Dare talk about her like that! She was the only one who genuinely cared about me, not you. You're just jealous because she didn't let you use me like you do. You're nothing but a bunch of leeches!"

Michael, emboldened by Lando's anger, smirked, his words sharp. "Don't you dare blame us. This is on you, Lando. You were the one who was too stupid to see through our facade. Now you've lost her because of your own damn foolishness, not our fault in the slightest."

Lando, seething with a mix of hurt and anger, quickly called the security guards. With a firm voice, he instructed, "Get these snakes out of here now!"

The security guards, recognizing the tone of a man pushed to his limit, swiftly entered, escorting the fake friends out of the garage. Lando stood there, watching them leave, a bitter taste in his mouth.

As the fake friends were forcefully escorted out, Lando was left alone in the garage, the weight of his emotions crashing down on him. The pain, the regret, the anger—it all slammed into him, finally giving way to the torrent he had held back for so long.

He slumped against a wall, his body trembling with the force of his emotions. Tears prickled in his eyes, his breath coming in ragged breaths.

As Lando sat there, the regret gnawed at him, growing sharper by the second. He thought about y/n, the love he had lost. The memories of their time together flooded his mind, and he berated himself for throwing it away. He blamed himself for listening to the friends who had manipulated him.

He thought about the love they shared, how he had let it slip through his fingers, shattered by his own foolishness and vulnerability to their lies.

Lando, still in a vulnerable state, decided to reach out to Max, despite their rocky past. He thought about the clubs and the disagreements they had had, but he had no one else to turn to now. With a mix of regret and desperation, he dialed Max's number.

Max picked up the phone, immediately sensing the desperation in Lando's voice. As Lando poured out his emotions and apologies, Max listened, his tone softening.

Lando confessed, his voice cracking, "I should have listened to you, Max. You were right about them, all along. I was a fool to listen to their lies and ignore you."

Max, surprised but relieved, replied, "I'm glad you realize now, Lando. Those friends were toxic. They used you, and I tried to protect you, but I understood, now." Max's words were sympathetic, understanding Lando's turmoil, even though they had their differences.

Lando confessed, his voice trembling with a mix of regret and desperation. "Max, I miss her, I miss y/n so much. I'll do anything to get her back, anything at all. It's the biggest mistake I've ever made."

Max fell silent, his concern deepening. He didn't know the extent of Lando's mistreatment of her.

The mention of y/n stirred worry in Max. He gently asked, "Lando, you know I didn't want you to break up with her. But why do you think you mistreated her? Can you tell me about that?" Max's tone was cautious, sensing that there was more to the story than he knew.

Lando hesitated, knowing he had a lot to unpack. Max's curiosity fueled a mix of fear and guilt inside Lando. He knew he had to come clean, even though it was painful to admit.

Taking a deep breath, Lando began to confess, his voice shaky. "I... I treated her badly, Max. I hurt her, ignored her, and took her for granted."

Max couldn't help but wince, knowing there was a deeper issue.

Lando's voice cracked with remorse. "They fed me lies about her. They convinced me that she was holding me back, that she wasn't good enough. I believed them, and I treated her poorly."

Max, as supportive as possible, tried to provide words of encouragement. "Lando, that's rough. You've made mistakes, but the first step is admitting it. You know you messed up; now it's about making amends."

He sighed, "Lando, remember that true love isn't about perfection. It's about growing together, learning from mistakes, and valuing someone despite their flaws."

He paused, his voice serious. "But you've got to show her you mean it. Words are easy, but actions will be your proof. Are you ready to do that?"

Lando, though shaken and determined, nodded, his voice firm. "Yes, Max. I'm ready. I want to prove it to her. I'll show her I've changed and that I'm serious about making amends."

Max and Lando continued talking, their conversation growing shorter as Lando had to prepare for the race. As they bid each other goodbye, Max reminded Lando, "Stay focused during the race. Clear your mind; that's important, too."

Lando, though his mind was heavy with emotion, took Max's words to heart. He knew he had to compartmentalize his feelings for now and focus on the race ahead. He focused on the tracks, his car, and his performance, pushing aside his turbulent emotions for the moment.

I stepped into the grand prix feeling a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. The grandstands, the roaring fans, and the smell of rubber and fuel in the air brought back a whirl of emotions. Seeing the tracks where Lando and I used to share moments filled me with nostalgia and a pang of heartache.

My thought were interrupted by two voices. Kika and Alex, my two closest friends, ambushed me with warm hugs, pulling me into their embrace. Their cheerful voices cut through the noise of the Grand Prix, and I felt a mix of relief and joy. It had been a while since we had been together.

"Y/N! You made it!" Kika exclaimed. "We've missed you so much!"

Alex chimed in, grinning widely. "We've been dying to hang out with you! It's been ages." She playfully pinched my cheek. "You look great, by the way."

"Oh, stop it! I didn't do anything special. You two, on the other hand, are the real stars here. Look at you!" I playfully nudged them both, my tone teasing and lighthearted.

Kika and Alex beamed, clearly enjoying the compliment. "Alright, alright, enough with the flattery," Alex said, feigning exhaustion. "We're here to have a blast. You ready for this?"

I sighed one more time while looking around before replying. "More then ready."

We made our way to our favorite hangout spot at hospitality. It was cozy, far from the chaos of the track. As we settled in, surrounded by comfortable couches and tables, a mix of nostalgia and anticipation washed over us.

"I've missed this place," Kika said, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "So many memories, right?"

We spent hours catching up, sharing stories, laughter, and heartfelt moments. The conversation flowed easily between us, like old times. Laughter echoed in the cozy space of the hospitality center, and our spirits were lifted. Time seemed to slip away as we bonded and supported one another. Eventually, the time came for Kika and Alex to head back out; their respective significant others were getting ready for their races.

Kika and Alex rose from their seats, their faces slightly apologetic. "We have to go," Kika sighed.

Alex nodded, adding, "Come find us later, okay?"

I gave them both a nod, understanding their commitment to support their boyfriends. "Of course, we'll catch up after the races. Good luck to them!"

Kika and Alex shared one last embrace, their hugs warm and reassuring, then they left to get to their respective spots by the trackside.

As they left, I was left to navigate the grandstands, finding my spot amidst the sea of fans. I blended into the crowd, the anticipation in the air as the racers prepared for their engines to start.

The race concluded, but it felt bittersweet. Lando's face was everywhere - on the screens, the winners' podium, the trackside banners. Seeing him in his natural element, celebrating victories, stirred mixed emotions in me. The pain of missing him and the hope of reconciliation blended together in a complicated mix.

After a bit, I decided that I needed to use the restroom so I headed that way. I made my way to the private VIP restrooms, my VIP pass granting me access. The restroom was clean and spacious, offering a respite from the noise outside. I checked my reflection in the mirror, taking a moment to compose myself.

As I exited the restroom, I was lost in my thoughts, only to bump into someone in the hall. I froze, instantly recognizing Lando's familiar voice. His figure stood in front of me, and I felt my heart skip a beat. His gaze met mine, and time seemed to stand still.

Lando called out for me, his voice filled with surprise, "y/n." His eyes held a mix of shock and tenderness, his voice holding a hint of the emotions he was trying to keep at bay.

As the words hung in the air between us, my heart raced. His presence was so close, the warmth of his voice sending a shiver down my spine.

I got out of my stance, trying to leave, I tried to walk past him, but Lando blocked my path, stopping me in my tracks. I felt a wave of emotions crash over me - pain, anger, hope, and a deep longing all mingled together. The intensity of it was overwhelming, and I tried to suppress it.

Lando's voice was hesitant and filled with vulnerability. "Y/N, please…can we talk? Just for a moment."

His request was sincere, his eyes pleading with me not to walk away.

I shook my head, my resolve firm. "No, Lando. I can't and I don't want to." I replied, my voice resolute. The pain from our breakup was still too fresh, and talking to him now would reopen wounds I wasn't ready to confront. I tried to move past him, my expression set with determination.

Lando's face fell, a mix of hurt and resignation evident. He saw my determination, my refusal to engage. He took a step closer, his words soft but desperate, "Please... just hear me out."

My frustrations boiled over. "Don't you think it's ironic? Now you want me to hear you out, when you never listened to me when you decided to end things," I retorted, my voice filled with a mix of anger and sadness.

Lando winced at my words, the truth of them hitting him hard. "I know... I made a mistake," he said, his voice tinged with regret. He was trying to find the right words, his eyes pleading with me to give him a chance.

Lando's expression twisted, the guilt evident on his face as he processed my response. The words cut deep, the truth behind them undeniable.

"A mistake?" I repeated, my voice dripping with bitterness. "You ruined me."

I continued, my words raw.

"I spent months wondering what was wrong with me, why you ended a relationship of three years for a fake friendship that didn't even last a year. Where are those 'friends' who supposedly supported you through everything? I don't see them here, Lando."

Lando looked down, ashamed. He had no answer. His fake friends were nowhere to be found, leaving him alone to confront the consequences of his actions. The weight of his mistake seemed to grow heavier.

He finally managed to gather his thoughts, his voice a mix of guilt and sincerity. "I messed up. I don't expect you to forgive me right now. But please, let me explain." He took a step closer, his regret etched on his face, silently begging for my understanding.

I raised an eyebrow, my words sharp. "Explain? What's left to explain? You threw away three years of us for a group of shallow friendships. What could you possibly say to make this better?"

Lando knew my words hurt, but he was desperate. "I was blind. I was a damn coward," he confessed. "I allowed myself to be manipulated by my so- called friends, and in the process, I hurt you."

He continued, his voice tinged with regret and shame, "I saw them as my real friends, but now I realize they only saw me as a way to elevate their social status." He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "They saw you as a threat, someone who could expose their true intentions. They convinced me you were holding me back, when in reality, they had me blinded."

His voice trembled as he continued, "I let myself believe their lies. They filled my head with jealousy, making me doubt our relationship, and I was stupid enough to listen to them." His vulnerability shone through, his emotions raw.

I nodded, my expression guarded. "I'm glad you've recognized your mistakes, Lando. But can you imagine the pain I've experienced because of them, because of you?"

My words conveyed a mix of grief and resentment. The hurt I suffered remained a palpable presence, a constant reminder of the pain he had caused.

Lando nodded, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. He knew he couldn't take back what he had done. The time he spent believing those fake friends and ending our relationship had shattered something that couldn't easily be repaired. He understood the depth of my suffering, a consequence of his blind trust and foolishness.

Lando looked at me, his expression sincere, and asked if we could try again. He voiced his regret, hoping for a chance to make things right. The hope in his eyes was clear, but the weight of the past lingered between us. He wanted to rebuild, to fix what he had broken.

He pleaded with me, his voice filled with remorse. "I know I don't deserve a second chance, but I want us to try again. I want to prove to you that I've changed, that I won't let those fake friends influence me anymore. I'll do whatever it takes."

I shook my head, my voice resolute. "No, Lando. I'm still healing, and right now, I don't want to try again. I need time, space. I can't just forgive and forget in a snap."

My words were firm, expressing my current inability to jump back into a relationship after everything I had been through.

Lando, his voice filled with sincerity, looked into my eyes. His gaze conveyed the depth of his regret and determination. "I understand," he said. "I will wait for you, for ten years or more," he promised. "I'll be here when you're ready, no matter how long it takes."

As we concluded the conversation, Lando stood there, his heart heavy with the weight of our future hanging in the balance. He watched me leave, a mix of emotions coursing through him: regret, hope, and an ache of longing. He had to accept that he couldn't rush our healing process, no matter how much he desired to be by my side.

I walked away, my eyes misty, the past and the uncertainty of our future intertwining in my thoughts.

f1gossippofficial

Liked by formula1_news, wagscloset, formula1_gossips and others

f1gossippoffical Months after their break-up, Lando Norris and Y/N have been spotted after the Silverstone GP. Sources state that the ex-couple were arguing, what the argument was about is still a big question. Many suspected it was because of a third party being involved. Thoughts about this one?

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lazyformulaland Bro leave them alone, they're both adults. Let them solve this in peace ffs. 🙄

lvr4lan Noooo Lando honey this isn't you run!

wagslov4 Did he pick you yet ? 🙄

bbpiastri81 What the hell is going on

norriswithrizz4 This is insane, the main focus of formula one isn't even on formula one anymore smh 🤦‍♀️

4everyours4ln Y'all are too invested, leave my girl y/n alone.

momolew16 Forreal the girl didn't ask for this

closetofpeacefashion7 Exactly she was finally thriving and then this happend. It doesn't even look like she wanted to talk to him

mayyoushush8 Did she tell you that 🤨

closetofpeacefashion7 @mayyoushush8 Don't be stupid even a kid can see that 🥱

I decided to head back home, not forgetting to shoot Alex and Kika a quick message which they completely understood.

As I reached home, the weight of the evening's emotions crashed down on me. The conversation with Lando had stirred up all the hurt and confusion I had been suppressing. I felt emotionally exhausted and overwhelmed, unsure of what to make of it all.

The silence of my home only amplified my inner turmoil, leaving me to wrestle with my conflicted feelings.

A few days passed after the incident, I decided to move on with life and not let it bother me again. A perfect distraction? Drowning myself in my workload.

I arrived at work as I stepped inside the building, I was greeted by Linda, one of my co-workers.

Linda, approached me with a mischievous grin, her question catching me off guard. "Do you have a secret admirer, by any chance?" she asked, the curiosity palpable in her voice.

I stared at her, confused by her question, wondering why she would draw such a conclusion. I shook my head, puzzled by the idea. "What makes you think that?" I replied, raising an eyebrow.

Linda chuckled, her eyes sparkling with a hint of intrigue. She replied, "Have a look in your office."

Puzzled by her cryptic hint, I made my way to the elevator and reached my office. As I stepped inside, confusion lingered in my mind, wondering what I was about to find.

My eyes widened with shock and surprise as I entered the office, finding a massive bouquet of my favorite flowers. The delicate blooms filled the space with a sweet, comforting fragrance. Attached to the flowers was a note, mysterious and intriguing. My heart fluttered with anticipation as I reached for the note.

My fingers traced the delicate paper of the note, and as I read the words, they stirred a whirlwind of emotions. The poem was written in delicate script, the words flowing like music... and it was about love. Each line spoke of tenderness, trust, and a future filled with hope. The words were so beautiful, it was as if they were carefully chosen specifically for me.

The little poem, written with a tender brush of affection, read:

"From the morning dew to the evening's glow, My love for you continues to grow. Through shadows and light, in every season's rain, Our bond remains, a gentle refrain.

In whispers of joy and moments of peace, I hold you close within my heart's embrace. Each smile shared, each memory we weave, My love will remain a boundless pledge."

I was so confused, who could've been behind this? As I read the poem again, my mind wandered to Lando for a moment. I quickly dismissed that Idea. He had confessed that he couldn't write romantic words, finding them cringeworthy.

If it wasn't Lando, then who would have written such a poem?

As the day wrapped up, I found myself heading home, my mind still lingering on the mysterious poem. Entering my home, I sank onto the couch, exhaustion seeping through my bones. The softness of the cushions welcomed me as my thoughts played through my mind, trying to unravel the mystery.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sudden ring of the doorbell that echoed through my home. It was late in the evening, and I couldn't guess who might be at the door at such a time. With some curiosity and a hint of wariness, I got up to answer.

I went over to the door to open it and I was met with a delivery man. The delivery man handed me a massive bouquet of fresh flowers and a large box of chocolates. The fragrance from the flowers mingled with the scent of chocolate. The combination was almost overwhelming, leaving me baffled as I accepted the gifts.

Now I was even more confused, this bouquet was even bigger than the one from my office. And the weird thing was, that the chocolates I got were only my favorites.

I examined the box of chocolates, finding another note attached to the top. Carefully, I opened the wrapper, retrieving the note. Just like the previous one, it was written on delicate paper, filled with intrigue. I unfolded it, ready to read the message.

As I unfolded the paper, I was met with neat, elegant handwriting. The words held a romantic touch, and I felt a mix of anticipation and curiosity. The second poem spoke of tender love and adoration.

"Your presence brings light to every room, A symphony of grace in each simple bloom. Though we may walk separate paths in life, My heart's allegiance is a ceaseless strife."

I sat there, taken aback by the heartfelt words. They spoke of admiration and deep affection. Who could have written these beautiful poems and left them for me? The confusion deepened, and I pondered who could be behind the mysterious gestures.

Plagued by curiosity, I reached for my phone and called my best friend, hoping for answers. As the call rang, I prepared myself for a wave of questions, expecting her to know something.

My best friend's cheerful voice filled the call, answering instantly. "Hello?" She sounded cheerful as ever, not knowing the mystery I was about to unload on her.

I cut straight to the point, my tone slightly urgent. "Hey, I have a question. So, I've been receiving anonymous flowers, chocolates, and... poems." I paused a moment. "Any idea who it could be?" I asked, hoping for some insight.

She was silent for a moment, her surprise apparent. But then her voice brightened, and I could tell she had a theory. "Oooh, a mystery admirer?" she asked, half-joking, half-curious.

I sighed, rolling my eyes playfully. "Well, yes. It is somewhat mysterious." I replied, unable to hide the hint of unease in my voice amidst the flowers and chocolates surrounding me.

We delved into the mystery, discussing possibilities. From past crushes to unknown admirers, we contemplated various scenarios. But no concrete conclusion surfaced, leaving me even more intrigued and slightly frustrated.

That was until my best friend's insight sparked a new perspective. She pointed out that the mystery admirer seemed to know me well. They knew my workplace, my love for romantic poems, and even my favorite chocolates and flowers. It wasn't just a coincidence; they seemed to have a grasp on my habits. The timing of the delivery was eerily precise, appearing just when I arrived home.

My best friend continued, her voice filled with speculation. "It's not just the flowers and chocolates, it's the timing. They know your work schedule. It's almost like they're watching, waiting for the right moment."

I agreed, thoughtfully absorbing. "Yeah, that's been bothering me. The timing is too perfect. They either know my schedule or they're stalking me." I chuckled, trying to soften the situation with humor.

"Wait!" My best friend suddenly interrupted, a speculative glint in her eyes. "Could it have been Lando?"

The name hung heavily in the air, bringing our conversation to a halt.

I shook my head, quickly dismissing the idea. "No, probably not. Lando doesn't enjoy writing, especially not romantic poems. He always told me he found them cringe."

My bestie nodded, acknowledging my response. "Ah, right. He's not exactly the poetic type, is he?"

I grinned slightly, remembering Lando's disdain for poetic words. "Nope, definitely not. He'd rather punch a wall than write a poem." I joked, the idea of Lando writing a poem seeming far-fetched, even for a moment.

After a while of thinking and cracking our brains open, we ended the conversation, deciding to table the mystery for the moment. We said our goodbyes and hung up the phone, my mind still swirling with questions. I prepared for the night, the flowers and chocolates lingering in the background, their presence a reminder of the mysterious admirer.

Several months passed, and the mysterious gifts persisted, each one more thoughtful and personal. The flowers continued arriving, alongside a new addition - small, handmade tokens. Notes slipped into the bouquet containing thoughtful messages, while a box of my favorite chocolates came with a heartfelt poem.

I sought information, asking friends and family if they knew anything. They were taken by surprise and genuinely had no idea who was behind the surprises. The mystery deepend as everyone denied any involvement.

The mystery escalated. Along with the physical gifts, I discovered a surprise on my phone. Text messages arrived with miniature poems, each one carefully crafted and sweet. The sender's number remained undisclosed, leaving me baffled about the identity.

The messages, delivered alongside the tangible gifts, carried messages that resonated with my emotions and experiences. It felt almost as if this person truly knew me, yet remained hidden behind the anonymity of their identity.

It was that time again - our annual girls' night out. We always looked forward to these nights, a chance to let loose and have a blast in a vibrant club. I had my best friend beside me, ready to dance the night away. The only problem? My best friend chose a club that Lando used to go to every time. She reassured me that he wouldn't be here which I took her word for.

We strutted into the club, excitement filling the air. Music pulsed through the venue, the bass matching the rhythm of our hearts. The lights dazzled the dance floor, and we blended into the crowd, the worries of the day fading in the throes of the nightlife. We decided to hit the dance floor, letting go of any inhibitions as we lost ourselves in the music.

We danced with abandon, the beat pulsating through us, the rhythmic movements our shared language. The neon lights flashed, adding an electric charge to the atmosphere. As we danced and whirled, we felt liberated from the daily grind, living in the moment, lost in the music and the company of my best friend.

Later that night we both got thirsty, I made my way to the bar to get us drinks, when suddenly a man approached me. I could already smell the alcohol on him as he staggered towards me, a lopsided smile plastered on his face.

He smirked, his words coming out in a clumsy manner. "Hey there, pretty lady," he slurred, his tone oozing with an unwanted familiarity. He invaded my personal space, leaning in a bit too close for comfort.

I could feel the warmth of his breath, tainted with alcohol, against my cheek as he spoke. "What's a beautiful girl like you doing here alone?" He tried to flirt, his persistence evident even amidst his intoxication.

I tried to maintain a polite smile, stepping back slightly. "I'm here with a friend," I replied, my voice a mix of politeness and discomfort. I glanced at the bartender, silently praying for my order to arrive sooner so I could escape this uncomfortable interaction.

He chuckled, his intoxication making him clumsy yet bold. "Oh, come on. A pretty girl like you shouldn't be tied down to just one friend. You should let loose and have fun," he insisted, his words filled with a suggestive undertone.

I tried to end the conversation, giving him a firm but polite dismissal. "Thanks, but I'm good," I said, my tone leaving no room for further conversation. I discreetly inched closer to the bar, hoping he would get the hint and leave me alone.

Instead of taking the hint, he persisted. "Oh, come on. Don't be a party pooper. One drink won't hurt," he insisted, his words slurring even more. He took another step closer, trying to close the gap between us.

I felt a mix of discomfort and annoyance as his persistence continued. The smell of alcohol was overwhelming, leaving a cloying odor on the air. I tried to maintain my composure, not wanting to cause a scene but also wanting him to back off.

He took another step closer, his gaze lingering on me. I could see the effects of the alcohol on him - the unsteady steps, the glazed look in his eyes, the clumsy attempts at charm. He reached out, attempting to touch my arm, his gesture too familiar and unwelcome.

The guy got annoyed when I backed away. He reached out, his hand grabbing my arm with a firm grip, trying to pull me back. I felt a jolt of fear as he attempted to drag me.

His hold tightened, his voice a mix of frustration and insistence. "Come on, don't you know how to have fun? Just one drink, a little chat." He tugged at me, his alcohol-fueled stubbornness evident.

I felt a mix of panic and defiance. "Let me go, you sick prick!" I exclaimed, my voice strained. I glanced around, hoping for someone to intervene, but every face seemed lost in their own world, oblivious or uncaring about the situation. The loud music blared, making it seem as if no one could hear my cries for help.

The guy gripped my arm tighter, his eyes filled with a mix of drunken determination. He leaned in closer, his face twisted with frustration. "Why are you making this so difficult? Just one drink, come on."

He forced me into an empty, private room, his grip on my arm still strong, leaving me with a sense of dread. The music was a distant throb outside, leaving me more isolated in this unsettling scenario.

His grip faltered as someone unexpectedly appeared, a figure entering the room with a decisive move. Before the guy could even think of pulling me fully into the room, someone intervened, delivering a well-aimed punch to his gut. The guy groaned, doubled over in pain as he released his grip on me.

The guy fell to his knees, clutching his stomach as the force of the blow rippled through him. Confusion, pain, and shock replaced the smugness from before. I could only watch, relief washing over me as I realized I wasn't alone anymore.

The drunk guy, overwhelmed by the combination of alcohol and the punch, scrambled to his feet before stumbling out of the room, whimpering in pain. The sudden exit left me alone with the mysterious person who had stepped in to save me.

Lando rushed towards me, concern etched on his face. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" he asked, his voice filled with emotion. The warm green in his eyes held a mix of worry and relief that I was alright.

He reached for my arm where the drunk guy had grabbed me before, inspecting the area to check if I was hurt. I could feel the tenderness as he gently ran his fingers over the spot, ensuring I was unharmed. Lando then gazed at my face, studying it for any signs of distress.

I gently pulled my hand away, forcing a small smile to reassure him. "I'm okay," I insisted, my voice steady but guarded. His concern was palpable, and I could see the relief in his eyes as he saw that I was not physically harmed.

Lando seemed desperate, unwilling to let me leave just yet. He reached for my arm again, his grasp gentle but firm. "Please, just hear me out," he pleaded, his voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and hope.

My response came sharp, biting. "Why would I? You didn't try to reach out, didn't try to find me, or even show an ounce of concern until now," I shot back, my words laced with bitterness and resentment.

Lando's response came with a mix of frustration and hidden emotion. "I haven't tried? Since our last talk, I've done everything I could to win you back," he retorted, his words carrying a hint of vulnerability. "Who do you think sent you all those gifts? Who else would know your work schedule, your favorite foods, your love for poems? I know I said I hated them, but for you, I embraced them."

His words were layered with hurt and a desire for reconciliation. Lando finally confessed, "It was me, all along. I couldn't bear the thought of losing you forever, so I hoped my gestures would speak for me." The pain in his face was evident, his eyes pleading for understanding.

I stammered at his words, a mixture of surprise and confusion overwhelming me. Never in my entire life I would've thought Lando would do all of this for me. My mind raced as I tried to comprehend the lengths he had gone to reach me.

My voice trembled as I spoke, "So... you were behind those text messages as well? How...? But I blocked all your accounts, even the new ones. How did you manage to send me messages?"

Lando hesitated for a moment, his eyes fixed on mine as he confessed. "I bought a new phone with a different SIM card... just so I could message you." His answer hung in the air, the weight of his dedication palpable in the quiet space of the room.

He continued, his voice earnest, "I couldn't bear the silence between us, the distance. Even if you blocked me everywhere, I had to find a way to reach you, to express how I felt." The depth of his yearning and determination to keep the connection alive was evident in each word.

I remained silent, overwhelmed by his confession. Lando had gone to great lengths just to communicate with me, buying a new phone and SIM card, defying my attempts to cut off contact. The depth of his dedication was both touching and overwhelming. I couldn't deny the mix of emotions swirling within me.

Lando stood there, his eyes searching mine, desperate for a glimmer of hope. The air hung heavy with anticipation as he awaited my reaction, his vulnerability on full display, his heart on his sleeve.

I grappled for a response, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. "I... I'm still processing this," I managed to utter, my voice filled with a mix of hurt and confusion. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? Why let me think you didn't care?" I blurted out, a hint of betrayal seeping into my voice.

Lando's eyes filled with remorse, his shoulders slouching slightly. "I was afraid," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Afraid of being rejected, scared that you would push me away if I tried to talk to you and most importantly scared you would've moved on. I thought sending those gifts and messages would be a way to reach out without directly risking rejection."

I stared at him, taken aback by his honesty. His confession laid bare his fears and insecurities, exposing the vulnerability beneath his usually composed facade. But my hurt remained, the sting of his silence lingering.

I couldn't hide my feelings, and I let my resentment spill out. "But you let me suffer!" I cried out, the pain pouring out in my words. "I thought you didn't care, that you moved on, while I was here, hurting over our broken relationship."

Lando's face contorted with pain at my outburst, his shoulders sinking lower. He took a step forward, bridging the gap between us. "I know, I know," he pleaded, his voice filled with regret. "I was a coward. I let fear dictate my choices, and I hurt you in the process. I'm sorry."

I wanted to believe him, to fall into the comfort of his apology and the sweet gestures he had made, but the wounds of the past remained. The memories of his silence, his refusal to communicate, and the pain I endured still weighed heavily on my heart.

Lando saw the hesitance in my eyes, noticed the barrier I had put up. His expression pleaded with me, a mixture of sorrow and yearning. I could tell he wanted me to forgive him, to let him back in.

"Lando, I'm so conflicted," I confessed, my voice cracking. The wounds of the past still fresh, I couldn't let go easily. "How can I trust that you won't hurt me again? I've suffered so much because of you, how can I be sure you won't do something like this again?" I asked, hoping for an answer that would quell my doubts. The pain was still too raw to simply forgive and forget.

Lando's eyes filled with remorse, his face a mask of sorrow and guilt. He knew he had caused me pain and had no right to expect forgiveness so easily. He stepped closer, the gap between us becoming smaller. With a gentle voice, he spoke. "I don't ask for you to trust me instantly," he said, his voice tinged with sincerity. "I want to prove to you that I've changed, that I won't make the same mistakes again. Please, just give me a chance to show you."

I held his gaze, my eyes pleading for understanding. "I need some time," I implored, my voice shaky. "I can't just forget overnight. Give me the space to process everything, to heal." The emotions coursing through me were overwhelming, and I needed time to make sense of the rollercoaster of events.

Lando's response was gentle and resolute. "I will wait for you. Remember, even if it takes ten years," he said, his voice filled with sincerity and a hint of vulnerability. "I'll be here when you're ready, no matter how long it takes."

I looked back at Lando, his pleading eyes yearning for a reprieve. With a heavy heart, I whispered, "Goodbye," and reluctantly turned away. The music and lights faded as I weaved through the crowd, searching for my best friend who had remained oblivious to the emotional storm that had just unfolded between Lando and me.

I found my best friend in the crowd, her smile lighting up upon seeing me. However, her smile quickly faded as she saw the tears streaming down my face. Without a word, she stood up, concern etched on her face.

She wrapped an arm around my shoulders, gently guiding me towards the exit. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice filled with understanding. "Let's go home."

We stepped out of the club, the cool outside air a stark contrast to the stifling heat inside. We hailed an Uber, and my bestie decided to spend the night to provide comfort and lend an ear.

We settled into the car, the soft hum of the engine accompanying us as we made our way home. I took a deep breath, preparing to recount the tumultuous events of the evening to my best friend.

The Uber pulled up in front of my building, and we disembarked, the night's cool air a stark reminder of the emotional journey I had been through. We made our way into my house, the silence between us filled with anticipation.

We entered my house, the familiarity of the space providing a semblance of comfort. My bestie guided me to the couch, pulling a blanket over us as we settled in for what was sure to be a long night of conversation.

I poured my heart out, recounting every detail, from Lando's apology to the painful memories that still lingered. My best friend listened intently, her eyes widening in surprise and shock as she took in the emotional rollercoaster I had described.

She was stunned, her face reflecting the whirlwind of emotions that had unfolded. "Wow," she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't believe he did all that."

My voice trembled with uncertainty, "I don't know what to do," I confessed, my emotions a tumultuous mess. "I want to trust him, but it's so hard to ignore the pain he caused. It feels like a never-ending cycle of confusion and fear." I rested my head on my friend's shoulder, seeking solace in her presence.

She rubbed my back soothingly, her support an anchor that kept me from drifting further into despair. In a gentle yet reassuring tone, she spoke. "It's okay to feel conflicted. Trust is earned, and forgiveness takes time. Don't rush yourself. Take whatever time you need to figure out what you want." She held me closer, offering her presence as a grounding force amidst the chaos.

My best friend posed the question that echoed within me, "Do you still love him?" The question sliced through the air, digging deep into emotions I had tried to bury.

Hesitantly, I met her gaze, tears glistening in my eyes. "I… I don't know," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

My friend's words were honest, cutting through the confusion. She persisted, "That isn't an answer, y/n. It's a simple yes or no question." I remained silent for a long moment, my emotions swirling inside. Finally, after an excruciating pause, I whispered, "Fine, yes. Yes, I still love him." The admission hung in the air, vulnerable and raw.

My best friend looked at me, her eyes mirroring a mixture of understanding and support. "Give him a chance," she urged, her voice gentle yet firm. "Don't give in immediately. See how far he's willing to go. If he goes beyond just gifts and gestures, you'll know he's sincere.''

A wave of confusion washed over me, and I turned to her for clarification. "What do you mean, 'beyond gifts and gestures'?" I inquired, the words tumbling out in a whispered plea for understanding.

She seemed to gather her thoughts for a moment, then met my gaze with an earnest expression. "I mean, beyond just grand gestures. Beyond the gifts and the poems. Love is about more than just gestures. It's about genuine care, about being there for each other, through every high and low. It's about trust and communication. Those are the true tests of sincere love," she replied, her words wise and heartfelt.

She continued, her voice steady. "If Lando truly cares about you, he will show it in every aspect of his life, not just with grand gestures. He will prioritize your needs, respect your boundaries, and be there for you, even in the most ordinary moments."

Her words resonated within me, their truth echoing in my heart. It didn't matter if he had sent flowers or sweet poems. Love wasn't just about gifts; it was about presence, understanding, and unwavering support through life's tumultuous journey.

We continued talking for hours, my best friend's words sinking deep into my thoughts. Eventually, we decided to call it a day, both exhausted by the emotional rollercoaster. My mind whirled with questions as we prepared to say our goodnights.

Lando's dedication persisted. In the days that followed, his gestures remained constant. I noticed flowers and chocolates carefully placed on my desk each morning, a poem hidden amidst the petals, and a warm coffee waiting when I arrived in the morning, exactly how I liked it.

Today it was different. I heard a knock on my office door, I replied with a simple 'come in' as the person entered. Lando stood in my office doorway, his hands holding my favorite coffee and a neatly prepared lunch. He spoke softly, concern in his voice.

"I hope I'm not interrupting, but I know you can get forgetful about your nutrition while working. So I brought you something." The gesture warmed my heart, leaving me momentarily speechless.

His willingness to break away from his busy schedule, solely to ensure I took care of myself, touched me deeply.

"Thank you," I expressed gratefully, touched by his thoughtfulness. I had to ask him, curious about the sacrifice of his valuable time. "But aren't you busy? You still made time for this?"

Lando responded, his voice gentle yet sincere. "I'm busy," he admitted. "But I make time for you because you matter to me."

His simple yet powerful response struck a chord within me. In the midst of the busyness of life, he had made time for me, prioritizing my wellbeing. It spoke volumes about his devotion and care, that he was willing to sacrifice his valuable time just to ensure I wasn't neglecting myself.

The sincerity in his eyes and the way he stood in my office doorway, a small lunch in hand, felt overwhelming. It was as if he was trying to prove that he valued our connection more than the hustle and bustle of life.

In the weeks that followed, Lando's gestures became an integral part of my routine. He arrived at my office each morning with my favorite coffee, not missing a single day, even when I forgot it myself. During lunch breaks, he carefully watched over me, ensuring I ate, sometimes even bringing me delectable meals he prepared himself. He began helping me with paperwork, even when he didn't have the expertise—a gesture that left me touched.

Once, when I found a mouse in my apartment, he came at 4 a.m., not hesitating for a moment despite having an early flight.

His devotion continued. In the midst of his travels, he remained constant in sending me thoughtful gifts. The distance didn't seem to matter as his love crossed time and continents.

With each passing day, my heart opened up a little more. His gestures filled my heart with a mix of gratitude, warmth, and a hint of rekindling love.

It seemed like any ordinary day, with Lando on the other side of the world for a race. I was engulfed in my work, my focus solely on the paperwork, to the neglect of myself. Suddenly, my colleague Linda burst into my office.

Linda spoke with concern, her voice filled with worry. "You've been working nonstop. Come on, let's get something to eat." I protested, insisting on finishing my task first, but Linda's stern expression was unrelenting. I agreed reluctantly, rising from my seat. Little did I know, the world was about to spin.

As we walked, I started feeling dizzy, an unfamiliar sensation overtaking me. Linda's voice was heard from beside me. "Sweetheart are you alright?"

"No, no, I'm fine," I quickly reassured Linda, believing I had just stood up too quickly. Yet, before I could take another step, my world slipped away, and I plunged into the darkness of unconsciousness.

Linda witnessed the sudden collapse and hurried to my side, concern filling her voice. "y/n, are you okay?" she asked urgently, but I was unresponsive, the world around me fading into blackness.

The sound of voices echoed in the distance, Linda's voice calling my name. However, the comforting embrace of darkness held me captive.

As I emerged from the haze of unconsciousness, I felt a soothing yet firm hold on my hand. I groaned softly, my eyes slowly creaking open, reluctantly adjusting to the stark brightness of my surroundings.

As my vision cleared, I realized I was in a hospital room. The sterile environment, the soft hum of medical equipment, and the distinctive smell of antiseptic filled the air. I heard someone calling my name, I turned my head, my gaze drifting towards the source of the voice that called my name.

I blinked, still in a state of surprise to see Lando beside me. He looked at me with concern, his presence unexpected given that he was supposed to be on the opposite side of the globe. He spoke urgently, "How are you feeling? Should I call for a doctor?" His worry was evident in his eyes as he waited for my response.

Amidst the haze of confusion and exhaustion, my mind clung to one question. "What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice weak but filled with surprise. "You're supposed to be on the other side of the world."

His response caught me off guard, touching my heart amidst the whirlwind of emotions. "I'm you're emergency contact," he reminded me, and the realization set in.

He had crossed continents and time zones, arriving swiftly on his private jet, driven by his concern for my well-being. I had been asleep for 12 hours, and in that timeframe, he had made his way across the globe to be by my side.

The depth of his commitment touched my heart. Despite the demands of his career, he had flown across the world to be by my side, prioritizing my well-being above everything else. The knowledge that he was my emergency contact made a surge of warmth flow through me. It was a reminder of my significance in his life and the lengths he would go to for me.

I tried to compose myself, my voice still weak, I told him, "You shouldn't have done this. You have important things to attend."

Guilt tugged at me, knowing he had sacrificed his commitments to be here. His racing schedule, his career, everything seemed secondary to his concern for me in that moment.

Lando shook his head, his expression resolute. "I don't care, none of it matters as much as you do," he insisted, his gaze filled with sincerity. He reached out to gently hold my hand, his touch comforting. "Nothing is as important as you," he repeated, emphasizing his priorities.

His words struck a nerve, causing a mix of emotions to rise within me. Tears welled up in my eyes, his unwavering devotion filling me with a combination of gratitude and sorrow. I had doubted him, feared a lack of commitment, yet here he was, proving me wrong in the most dramatic way possible.

His presence in the hospital room, despite the distance he traveled, felt surreal. The sound of medical equipment beeping in the background seemed distant compared to the intense emotions swirling between us. Lando held my hand, his touch warm and reassuring.

In that moment of tender silence, Lando spoke again. His voice was soft, carrying a mix of concern and affection. He squeezed my hand gently, his thumb tracing small circles on my palm. "I was so worried," he admitted, his eyes locked on mine. "Seeing you here in the hospital... was terrifying."

His eyes mirrored the vulnerability he rarely displayed, raw emotions laid bare. The fear he had felt, the concern that gripped him, all visible in his expression. The reality of the situation weighed heavily between us, his emotions palpable and sincere.

I offered a reassuring smile, trying to ease his worries, though the weakness in my voice betrayed my fatigue. "I'm okay," I whispered, exhaustion evident in my words. My weak hand attempted to squeeze his in return, hoping to show my gratitude despite my physical state.

Lando's grip on my hand tightened, his thumb tracing comforting circles on my skin. His gaze remained focused on me, studying my face, searching for any signs of discomfort or pain. He was skeptical of my reassurance, his worry etched on his furrowed brow.

We delved into conversation, discussing random topics, our worries fading into the background. Our chat was filled with laughter and genuine connection. However, our peaceful moment was interrupted when the doctor entered the room for a routine check-up. The doctor informed me that I was discharged, giving me the okay to leave.

Lando assisted me in gathering my belongings, the tenderness in his gestures evident. He carried my bag and carefully guided me out of the hospital room. We paced side by side, making our way to Lando's car parked outside.

We traveled in a soothing silence, the weight of the hospital now off our shoulders. As we reached my place, Lando diligently helped me bring my belongings inside and prepared to leave. But before he could go, he paused and called my name, the sound breaking the tranquility.

I turned my attention his way, meeting his eyes with curiosity. "Yes?" I responded, wondering what was on his mind. His voice had held a hint of hesitation, as if there was something important he wanted to convey.

He inhaled sharply, the weight of his question becoming apparent. He spoke with vulnerability, "There's something I want to ask you. You're free to refuse, but I genuinely want to ask... Will you go on a date with me tomorrow?"

I was initially startled, but the anticipation in his eyes was evident. He swiftly added, "Only if you want it to be a date of course" I could see the sincerity in his gaze. A soft smile tugged at my lips as I accepted his invitation, my voice steady with anticipation. "Yes."

The relief and happiness that washed over Lando's face at my acceptance were evident. His shoulders relaxed, and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "You'll go on a date with me?" he asked, a mix of surprise and joy in his tone. "Really?"

The vulnerability in Lando's voice hinted at the significance of my acceptance. He was eager to hear my confirmation once more, his eyes glimmering with hope. I smiled warmly, reassuring him, "Yes, I'll go on a date with you."

We bid each other good night, both feeling the exhilaration of the upcoming date. The way we acted mirrored that of teenagers experiencing their first date, a mix of excitement, nervousness, and anticipation. As we exchanged a final glance, our connection felt like a magnetic pull, both eager for the moment to come. The goodbye lingered for a few moments, filled with electricity.

The evening of our date arrived, and my best friend was diligently working on styling my hair, while I focused on applying my makeup. She fussed over my locks, while I carefully applied concealer and mascara to enhance my eyes. My outfit hung on the closet's door, chosen for the evening. The weight of my excitement made my heart flutter in anticipation of the night ahead.

My best friend, brushing through my hair as she styled it, spoke up. "You know, Lando really went above and beyond for you, don't you think he deserves a chance?" she said, emphasizing his efforts.

There was a pause as I met her gaze in the mirror, a mix of emotions coursing through me. I set down my mascara and turned to face her, the weight of her words settling.

She looked at me, waiting for my response, her eyes filled with a mix of encouragement and genuine concern. The reminder of Lando's efforts weighed heavily on my thoughts. He had shown dedication and cared for me, but my past fears and apprehensions lingered, making it hard to fully let go.

I took a moment, considering her words. Inhaling deeply, I nodded, offering a soft smile of agreement. "Yeah, I know," I admitted, my voice a mix of vulnerability and hope. "But it's... it's hard to trust after everything."

I voiced my intentions, my eyes glimmering with determination. "I want to give him a chance," I declared, my resolve strengthened. "Not just a chance, but an opportunity to show me that he's worth trusting." My past pain weighed heavily on my heart, but the hope in my voice was undeniable.

Her squeal of happiness filled the room, echoing her encouragement. "Oh my god, y/n! I'm so happy for you!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with enthusiasm. "You're doing the right thing, giving him a shot. He'll make you so happy!"

She grinned, her excitement infectious. "I can feel it in my bones, this is gonna be great. He's going to sweep you off your feet."

We concluded our primping, with my best friend leaving with a parting "keep me updated, and good luck!" The anticipation in my stomach intensified, a mix of excitement and nerves gripping me. I took another glance in the mirror, taking in my appearance one last time.

I was wearing a black off shoulder dress, that hugged my curves nicely. I paired it with the famous uncomfy YSL heels and matching purse. My hair was styled in a beautiful blow out flowing over my shoulders. I sighed one more time before grabbing my stuff.

The doorbell echoed through the room, signaling Lando's arrival with its gentle tone. My heart leaped in my chest, his presence just outside my door.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and then opened the door. Lando stood there, his presence immediately filling the space, and warmth spread through my chest. He looked handsome, his well-groomed appearance evident, but it was his warm eyes and gentle smile that greeted me.

Lando stood before me, a bouquet of vibrant flowers in hand. His expression was one of awe, his words momentarily lost. He managed to compose himself and spoke, his voice filled with admiration. "You look absolutely stunning," he said, his eyes drinking in the sight of me.

The flowers were a beautiful display of color, their delicate petals reflecting the soft light of the hallway. Lando held them out, offering them to me like a bouquet of promises. I extended my hand, taking them with a soft smile, his compliment making my cheeks flush.

We walked out together, arm in arm, the cold evening air washing over us. Lando guided me to his car, opening the passenger door and helping me inside as a gentleman. As we settled in, the city lights danced outside, casting a cozy ambiance in the car.

We arrived at the restaurant, a charming Italian bistro with soft lighting and a cozy ambiance. Lando got out, rushing to open my door, offering a hand to help me out with a soft smile. The scent of fresh herbs and garlic filled the air, a promise of a delicious meal to come.

We stepped inside, the warmth wrapping around us. The atmosphere was romantic, with soft music playing in the background. Lando guided me to a table by the windows, pulling out my chair before taking a seat himself. Candles flickered on the table, casting a soft glow over everything.

We settled into our seats at the table, the ambiance around us serene and inviting. The waiter approached, greeting us warmly and setting menus before us. The scent of fresh bread and delectable aromas wafted from the kitchen, fueling the anticipation for the meal ahead.

Lando spoke with confidence, knowing my preferences. "What do you want to get?" he asked, but before I could respond, he answered himself, "No, I know already. Let me guess... the carbonara." A smile tugged at my lips as he remembered my favorites so effortlessly. I replied, "You know it," a mix of affection and appreciation filling my voice. His attention to detail and memories of things I liked made my heart swell with warmth.

The night unfolded, filled with lively conversation and laughter. Time seemed to stand still as we lost ourselves in our connection, the sound of others around us fading into the background. It felt as if the world had narrowed down to just us, an intimate bubble filled with shared laughter, stolen glances, and shared stories.

As the night drew to a close, neither of us wanted it to end. Lando paid for the meal, and I thanked him with genuine gratitude. We decided to take a stroll, drawn to a nearby bench that offered a view of the water. As we settled onto the bench, the gentle moonlight illuminated the night, casting a silvery glow over the water's surface.

I broke the comfortable silence, my voice soft and sincere. "Lando?" I began, my words carrying heartfelt appreciation. "I really enjoyed today. Thank you," I expressed, my eyes glimmering with warmth as I looked at him.

Lando met my gaze, a soft smile playing at his lips. He spoke with sincerity, his voice filled with warmth. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he replied, his eyes mirroring the appreciation in mine. "It means the world to me that you had a good time. I truly enjoyed every moment with you."

I addressed the elephant in the room, acknowledging the immense effort he'd put in. "You know, you really have gone above and beyond for me these past months," I said, my tone sincere.

It had been a challenge to regain my trust, and Lando's consistent gestures had played a significant role in rebuilding it. His eyes glimmered with a mix of vulnerability and hope, absorbing my words.

Lando's voice was quiet as he responded, his tone sincere. "I know I have, but every moment of it was worth it," he confessed, his emotions clear in his eyes.

"I wanted to show you that you could trust me, that I would go to any lengths to earn your trust," he added, his voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and earnestness.

I continued, my questions flowing out. "What about after we get back together? Would you still care about me like this" I inquired, my eyes searching his.

Lando's expression shifted, vulnerability and sincerity mixing in his gaze.

"After we get back together, I want to cherish every moment even more," he admitted, his voice filled with sincerity. "I want to support you, care for you, and be there for you through anything. I want to keep building on the trust we have and make our relationship stronger than ever."

His sincere words found their way to my heart, a tenderness washing over me. The vulnerability in his expression, combined with his commitment to cherishing our relationship, stirred something within me.

I spoke up, my voice soft but filled with resolution. "I think," I began, "I'm ready to be yours again."

Lando stood up, his eyes wide with disbelief, his emotions overwhelming him. He wrapped his arms around me, lifting me off the bench in a tight embrace.

As he spun us around in a whirlwind of joy, he spoke with heartfelt conviction, "I won't disappoint you ever again. I love you so much."

His hands remained on my waist, a tender touch that seemed to anchor me. I felt a surge of warmth and contentment as I replied with a giggle that turned into laughter, sharing in Lando's excitement.

"I love you too, Lan," I confessed, my eyes glimmering with affection

Lando's grip on my waist tightened as he pulled me into a passionate kiss, a fusion of his emotions and desires. The softness of the moment contrasted with the intensity of our feelings, the kiss sending a surge of electricity through my body. I melted into his embrace, returning the kiss.

As the kiss intensified into a make-out session, I reluctantly pulled away, the reminder of Lando's fame echoing in my mind. However, Lando was unfazed, his response quick and resolute.

He shrugged off the potential consequences, insisting, "Let them see. I've got my girl back, and that's all that matters." His smile was filled with a mixture of certainty and passion as he pulled me back, their lips meeting once more in a toe-curling kiss that seemed to defy any outside concerns.

The moon shone down, lighting up the night as Lando wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close, and we walked back to his car. The air held a delicate sense of anticipation, and as we drove away, I nestled my head against Lando's shoulder, feeling safe and cherished.

Gratitude and affection swelled within me as I realized I had given Lando another chance, and that my heart had bloomed open once again. I smiled, my thoughts swirling with appreciation and love for the incredible journey we were about to embark on.

The end

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wonderjanga · 1 day ago

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Fairy King

The day was normal if not, relatively boring. There had been the usual alien invasion, which the JL swiftly took out. Now they were in a meeting being hosted by Batman so they could go over everything that just happened as if they weren’t there. Now see when the meeting was over was when things got interesting.

JL: *all about to get up so they can go home*

Marvel: “Guys, before we go, can I announce something?”

JL: *groans because they just wanna go home and sleep after that entire ordeal, but still sit down*

Marvel: “I promise it’ll be quick. Look, I’m getting married-”

JL: *half their jaws drop while the other half is still processing what he said*

Marvel: “-And I want you guys all to come.”

JL: *the other half’s jaws drop too now*

Supes: “Wha…? Cap, what do you mean you’re getting married?”

Marvel: *passing out invites* “I mean I’m getting married. To the Fairy Queen. As a result of a treaty to get her to stop waging war on the gnomes.”

JL: *all stare*

Marvel: “Oh, don’t worry guys. Fairy lifespans are only about five years. She’s already a little more than halfway though.”

Flash: “Is that a good thing…?”

Marvel: “For me it is. Don’t get me wrong, it’s absolutely terrible that she’s gonna die, but I don’t really wanna be married to anyone so…”

*silence*

Marvel: “Anyways! I would really love if you guys came.”

They did. After all, they did not want to miss this. Some of the guys even got to go into the dressing room and talk to Marvel.

Marvel: *doing his tie in the mirror, trying to remember how Tawny taught him*

Aquaman: “So… are you guys gonna have any kids?”

Marvel: “No? Why?”

Aquaman: “Well, you know, royal marriages are normally completed after consummation.”

Marvel: *slowly looks over to him with a horrified expression before the expression disappears* “Wait a minute. Fairies make kids by combining magic! Geez… you had me worried for a sec.”

Flash: “So I guess we’ll be seeing another mini Cap running around then.”

Marvel: “What do you mean by another?”

Flash: “Mary is basically a mini you if you were a girl. And Junior? He uh… looks like you too. Kinda. But I’m mostly talking about Mary.”

Marvel: “Oh. I guess so then. We’ll have another mini me. Yay.”

Aquaman: “Will they go into heroics too?”

Marvel: *pauses fiddling with his tie* “Now that I think about it, I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to see what my future wife thinks.”

It was all in all a beautiful wedding. Junior was Cap’s best man. Mary was a flower girl. Flash got to stuff his face with human and fairy food. Aquaman talked politics with some of the fairy politicians. Batman talked about security and defense with some retired warrior fairies. It was nice.

A month later…

Marvel: “Hey guys! Wanna meet my baby?” *has a baby strapped to his chest*

GL: “Whaaaaaaat…?” *rapidly looking between the baby and Marvel before coming to a realization* “Oh is this your fairy baby?”

Marvel: “Yup!”

GL: “Aww look at the little guy.” *reaches over to poke the babies’ cheek*

Fairy Baby: *bites his hand with surprisingly sharp teeth*

Flash: *screams*

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics

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multipleoccupancy · 8 hours ago

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He smiled that she thought he would make a good Robin Hood, he believed it too even if he didn't quite have the time to do it. He still had to go back to his studies when the mission was over, he had to get top marks! No time for vigilante thieving and ruining his planned career path, sadly.

He helped Samantha spread out the net and keep the pullies from tangling. Nodding as she spoke the mission seemed simpler in a way. They knew what was happening was man made and to stop it they needed to catch the man, undoing it was a bonus. "We'll manage something, it might have been a ritual or maybe like a potion or something," he thought for a moment, "Odin said that what she saw was a woman get stung by a monster before she started turning. Maybe it's something like that and there's like... an original monster?" All things they didn't know about yet but it was helping him to focus on their solution rather than their trap! He hoped it was the same for Samantha too.

Very pleased with Violet's performance and quietly thinking to himself that the Killian that was her father might have had his work cut out for him if she could put on such an act with such ease. He imagined a grown Killian was putty in the girl's hands. He had to resist chuckling to himself for the image, stealing the moment to rub tiredly at his eyes and down his face in such exhaustion. "You can have my lunch box from today for dinner," he then said quietly but just enough so the man could hear him, suggesting that Sloane hadn't eaten that day anyway and was giving his only meal to his daughter.

The man checked Sloane's ID but the act of both Violet looking so cold and upset at whatever it was her mother had done and then Sloane's apparent patient exhaustion tugged hard enough at his heart strings that he set the fake ID aside and started typing into the system to search for a dorm.

"Ah, yes, we have some free," the man explained and Sloane smiled but quickly suggested in some pleading panic, "preferably as close to the arts department as possible?" The man nodded with an 'of course' gesture and then a smile to Violet. "The nearest one is over the bridge in the languages department, but it's free of any residents." He explained sympathetically, "Room 328," the same as Sloane had mentioned earlier. "I'll just go and get the key set up," he promised before moving from the desk and off deeper into the office behind.

Sloane did not drop the act though and was sure to look to Violet kindly and still very tired. "You can have a nice rest and tomorrow we'll go out and get a McDonalds, just you and me." Promises he seemed to be genuinely offering though of course he was not, they were on a mission and as he understood it, Violet might not even be there come morning let alone dinner.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

Samantha was not superstitious, but she still felt safer with Killian's knife in her pocket. It was an extra weapon, and would come in very handy if she had to fight the monster in close combat -or if she somehow got stuck in the trap, too. But she was also sentimental.

"You would make a great Robin Hood," she chuckled as she helped him put the net down. She stretched and rubbed her shoulders. They were already sore. "Steal from the rich and give to the poor!" Samantha didn't know too much about Killian's situation, but she knew that it was Delta Green who had paid for his education.

She started to carefully untangle the net, lying it flat on the grass. "I don't know," she admitted, "I've never seen anything like it before. But I think Violet might be right: if it's been done by a man, then surely it can be undone, too. Once we catch who did it, we'll force him to turn this student back into a human." If it could be done. "All we can do is try."

Violet was quite relieved to hear that Sloane couldn't fly a plane. He was dangerous enough as he was! Not this Sloane, she reminded herself. Though she couldn't be sure. He was not a cultist, and he was on her side, but he was probably still very dangerous.

And he was a great actor, too. She watched as he started talking to the man, skillful in the way he played the part of the embarrassed, tired single dad -even his hand motion felt warm and loving. Violet thought about Lisa and felt very sad all of a sudden. Sloane seemed like he was a good dad. He would one day do unforgivable things, to bring back his family.

She carefully looked down at her feet at that word, "busy", as if she was also upset about her mother's behavior. She kept her eyes planted on the ground while he described how tired she felt, waiting until he was asking about a room before rubbing her left arm with her hand -not too much, like Sloane told her. It was only when the man asked to see Sloane's ID that she looked up -expectantly. Yes, she was cold and she was tired and she really wanted to sleep while her dad worked.

#hvbris #killian #violet #asoue au

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toxicanonymity · 2 days ago

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the air cools

2.5k words, raider Joel x f!reader

SUMMARY: A few loosely connected vignettes taking place throughout fall and winter, ending with a raider family Christmas. 🖤⛓️ 🌸🫛🐶👱‍♂️. My gift to those of you who love these characters. I love y'all so much. This is an 18+ blog.

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“What do you guys give each other for Christmas,” you asked Joel in early fall, secretly digging for a lead on what to get him for his birthday. It was bedtime and your head was on his bare chest.

“What makes ya think we celebrate Christmas?"

“Yeah I know, it’s a godless world," you conceded, "but it's an excuse to celebrate each other.”

Joel took a breath as though getting ready to speak, but you cut him off, “Don't say it”

“What?” He asked.

“something like,” (you lowered your voice slightly) "no one should celebrate me."

“Wasn't gonna,” Joel claimed.

“Then what were you gonna say?” You challenged him.

“I was gonna say…” he rolled you over and glanced down at your bare breasts before bringing his mouth to your neck. He murmured into your skin, “celebrate each other all the time.” He hiked up your leg, and dragged his lips from your neck to your ear to whisper, “celebrate each other all night if ya want.”

You giggled, then a rush of desire drowned out your amusement as his arousal swelled against you.

—--

\\\\\\

—--

Joel would never let the dog onto the bed. That's where he drew the line. The bed was Joel's domain. It was for you and him, period. He didn't even want the dog in the bedroom, because that was one step closer to the bed.

But one time, it was storming, and Bullet was scratching at the bedroom door. You slithered out of Joel's tight embrace and got out of bed. Joel kept snoring. You were going to take Bullet back to the living room and calm him down, but as soon as the bedroom door cracked open, the dog bolted over to a pile of laundry in the corner of the bedroom and started making a nest in it. You watched him circling and nosing the fabric for a few seconds until he settled in. He lowered his head to rest on his paws, and looked up hopefully.

You petted him, “Shhhh.” His tail was down, but he wagged it a little in what felt like a promise.

You left the door cracked open as if the dog had opened it himself. He was a very good boy all night. Even with loud claps of thunder, his whine stayed very quiet, and neither you nor Joel woke up. Bullet even went back to the living room unprompted once the storm quieted. You quietly washed the laundry the next day.

This happened a few more times, and Joel never found out, as far as you knew. Except for one time when he woke up before you and saw the tell-tale dent in the laundry, and, upon further inspection, some light orange hairs. Joel's nostrils flared only slightly, and he shook his head to himself. But he just shook out the clothes and never said anything.

Then, one day, Joel was in the trailer park down the hill, looking for supplies and assessing how dangerous the area was getting. In a trailer that wasn't burned too badly, he saw a sofa cushion with a little dent in it that reminded him of that dent in the laundry. He put the cushion under his elbow and later stashed it in a closet with some colder weather clothes he’d picked up for you throughout the year.

—---

\\\\\\

—---

“I hope he likes this,” You whispered to Joel, hoping Carter wouldn't hear you over the noise of whatever DIY project he was working on outside. You were sitting on the floor, holding a thick, weathered paperback in your hand.

“Lemme see,” Joel said, and you handed it to him.

He chuckled at the cover–a pirate embracing a lady from behind, both their hair windswept. Then he thumbed through the wrinkled pages, stopped at one, and his eyebrows shot up. “engorged member,” he mouthed and his face wrinkled.

“Hard cock,” you translated.

“heaving bosom…” he read.

“That's boobs,” you explained.

Joel closed the book as much as it would close, given the warped pages, and he handed it back to you. “M’sure he’ll like it,” Joel tried not to laugh.

“What?” You asked. “Don't you ever feel bad that he's alone?”

“It's a sweet thought, baby.”

“You didn't want me to write one myself, remember….”

“sure as hell didn't,” he agreed. “don't need to be writin’ about anyone else's engorged anything,” Joel said.

“wasnt gonna do anything graphic. I just thought it might be nice if the main character was a man, and the pirates are girls and guys.”

He couldn't help but wonder, was this the kind of filth you were thinking about when you went to bed early? He had trouble believing it. You knew you were his. But he still asked. “What else ya got? Any more books?”

Joel cocked his eyebrow and warned you, “Leave it.”

Your face heated up and your eyes shifted around. “Nothing like that,” you promised.

Joel studied your face and said, “yeah?”

Your eyes flitted to the floor and his jaw clenched. You cursed yourself for the dead giveaway.

He looked under the bed and pulled out a single, tattered paperback book. “What's this?” He asked before inspecting it.

“Nothing,” you said, with your whole upper body on fire. “Just something I was–”

Joel studied the front cover. It was a battle scene with a man posing valiantly with his shirt wrapped open. A piece of paper was haphazardly fastened to the cover with some kind of glue. The paper covered the man's face but his flowing hair still emerged from the left and bottom edges. The paper was beginning to curling off on that side, and the pencil was fading. Joel swallowed as he took in the drawing. A man from the neck up, complete with a bulging neck vein. Dark hair, dark eyes, a mustache, some scruff, and an unmistakable scowl.

Joel raised his eyebrows and rubbed his lips together.

“It's stupid,” you said and reached for it.

“This what ya read?” he asked as he opened the cover.

“No, I just–when you were gone for a night, I thought it could be-”

The title page, The General and the Girl, had “the general” crossed out and something scribbled above it. He squinted and braced for what he assumed would read "raider," but it didn't. “Killer,” it read. And he wasn't sure if that was better or worse.

“Hm,” Joel observed, then noticed “the” was crossed out too. The Killer and *his* Girl. He thumbed through a few more pages and you had crossed out inaccurate descriptions of both of you and then after the first chapter or so the annotations stopped.

Joel ran his thumb over the scrawled text, and you offered, “He only kills bad guys …”

He closed the book and handed it back to you without further discussion.

A sawing noise vibrated through the wall, followed by something crinkling.

Joel changed the subject back to Christmas. “You know what I think Carter could use?”

“What?”

“Somewhere nice to sleep.”

“He doesn't have one?” you never really thought about it, because Carter always made a point of bragging that he could sleep anywhere.

“How'd ya feel about him movin’ into the trailer?”’

“Really?” You asked.

“Safer for us, nicer for him…”

You smiled and he muttered, “c'mere. You're a good girl, sweet pea.”

You were relieved he didn't find your sketchbook.

—--

\\\\\\

—--

Christmas Eve

It was only afternoon, and you already felt like you wouldn't be able to sleep that night. You and Joel had made up a bed for Carter in the living room, which you barely used anyway. You made sure it was away from the leak. There was a quilt and a pillow. You even nailed a sheet between the kitchen from the living room to serve as a privacy curtain since there was no door. You slid the pirate book onto the shelf among the other books.

“We should do it all tonight,” you suggested.

Joel silently laughed at you, then shook his head no.“C’mon. Let's go for a walk,” he said. He didn't really care about the timing, except that he got a kick out of your enthusiasm. It was better than any gift he could've asked for.

After the sun set, Carter came up the hill. “Alright, I know Christmas is tomorrow, but I gotta give ya my present tonight.”

“Me too!” You agreed.

“Sweet pea,” Joel shook his head with a chuckle.

“Aw shoot,” Carter said unconvincingly. “I left the bird behind.” Joel had also shot two birds for the other men, and Carter brought them all down to the house to pluck. He sent both you and Joel down there to get the one you would share. Bullet trailed behind.

Joel poked around the storage area trying to buy Carter some time, then he grabbed the goose and when he came back outside bullet did a happy circle.

When you got back to the trailer, a flickering orange glow was visible in the window. Carter had set up a freestanding fireplace hearth in the corner of the kitchen. Joel didn't seem surprised. After all, Carter wouldn't do something like that without permission. But apparently he had hauled the heavy unit on his own, cleaned it out, and fitted the exhaust pipe to a hole he sawed in the wall. The job looked professional.

You had a cozy dinner in the kitchen and lingered around the table enjoying the warmth together while the men drank a spiced wine you made. When the fire died down, Carter announced he better head off to bed.

You and Joel looked at each other and Joel gave you the go-ahead nod toward Carter's new quarters. Joel's eyes sparkled as your face lit up.

With Carter almost out the front door, you said, “where are you going?” He turned around, and you pointed toward the end of the trailer. “Your bed’s in there.”

Carter looked at Joel, and Joel nodded. You grabbed him by the elbow and led him through the kitchen and held the sheet aside for him.

Carter took in the view, then looked back at Joel in case you had gone rogue. Joel nodded. “Might as well crash here, whenever ya want I mean.” Joel shrugged.

Carter tried to refuse, because he was committed to keeping an eye on things down at the house and keeping things under control. “Ain't no troublemakers down at the house these days,” Joel reasoned. “Rather ya keep an eye on this one,” he nodded toward you and pinched your chin.

“You got it, boss.” Carter didn't know what else to say. He and Joel shook hands and the look they shared told you it might as well have been a hug.

Carter went to bed in the newly improved space. Bullet went to sleep on the kitchen floor, right in front of the hearth, enjoying the heat that still radiated from the metal.

After enjoying a leisurely Christmas eve romp in which you tried not to be too loud, you and Joel settled in for bed. As you predicted, you weren't tired enough to sleep.

“Do you know the night before Christmas?” You asked Joel, snuggled into the crook of his arm.

He looked at the ceiling and thought. “Somethin’ ‘bout ma and pa wearin’ hats,” and you nodded encouraging him. He tried to continue, “And, uh…. mouse that can't hear nothin’?”

You giggled and buried your face in his arm, again trying not to be too loud. “What?” he asked.

“not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse,” you recited.

“You're gonna stir all night, ain't ya?” Joel asked. “‘less I tucker ya out,” he mused. He turned over, letting part of his weight onto you. He pressed soft kisses onto your neck, then chest, then slid his mouth to your breast and the pull of his lips made you whine. Soon, he became a shape under the sheets, a silhouette stirring between your legs.

He knew how to put you to sleep.

—--

Christmas Day

In the morning, you woke up to the smell of coffee. You dragged a paper bag out from under the bed. You'd drawn stars and trees on it in pencil and labeled it “J. Miller” Joel and Carter were already in the kitchen and there were presents wrapped in old newspaper and string.

You asked Joel to open his first but he refused, wanting to drag out your eagerness as long as possible.

Joel gave you an assortment of sweaters, just in time for the cold weather. Different colors and textures. Cozy and perfect. The last package he handed you wasn't as fluffy.

You carefully untied it and saw corduroy. You ran your hand over the ribs and the fabric was still smooth, however many years after it was made. You held up the garment and it was pants. He willingly gave you pants.

After a moment of silence, Joel mumbled “might not be *that* cold just yet, but–” Carter laughed at him.

You went and sat in Joel's lap and handed him his gift bag. He opened it and pulled out a thermal Henley, a cable knit sweater in decent condition aside from a few snagged threads. You suspected it might be a little tight on his arms, but he never seemed to mind.

The last thing in the bag was a spiral-bound notebook. Your sketchbook. He opened it and his face went serious as his eyes poured over every detail–sketches of him. Joel wiping his sweat with a rag, holding a wrench. Joel sleeping. Joel holding a figure that could only be you. His face softened and his jaw twitched as he studied that one. When he finally moved on to the next page, his face turned pink. He quickly closed the book and cleared his throat. “Sweet pea,” he laughed in faux admonishment. You could've given him that one in private, but you didn't want to tear anything out of the book.

“I drew what I like,” you shrugged, and kissed him on his burning cheek.

“You’re talented, baby,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Merry Christmas,” you wished him, and he kissed you on the forehead. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

“I'll make breakfast,” Carter offered.

“Oh. One more thing,” Joel said. “Can't forget the big guy.” Joel eased you off of his lap and stretched before going to the supply closet and retrieving the cushion with the little dip in it.

He plopped it into the floor and bullet came over and sniffed around it, then scratched at the fabric before settling into it.

“And,” Joel interrupted himself with a weak sigh. “As long as he don't get on the bed, when it’s rainin’ ya can bring it..” he nodded toward the bedroom.

You wrapped your arms tight around Joel and he cradled your head. “Alright,” he said. “I'm gettin’ hungry.��

------

Thank you for reading 🖤🖤🖤

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #raider!joel miller #toxicanonymity ☠️#raider!joel

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demonic0angel · 3 days ago

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Christmas + Gotham City Spirits

Bruce sipped at his coffee, reading through the recent reports of a case a few days ago. The coffee blend was faintly peppermint-flavored because due to the holiday season, Stephanie had replaced everything in the coffee making station with Christmas themed items.

It tasted good, so no one complained too much.

The chatter in the cave was calming, a distant lull with the sound of his loved ones’ voices. None of them had gone on patrol yet, although they were all dressed in their vigilante suits. Dick and Jason were arguing over the movie they wanted to watch on their semi-weekly Movie Nights, and Cass and Steph were egging them on. Tim and Damian were gone, having left using the Batmobile to pick up something.

They would be back any minute now—

Tim and Damian drove into the Batcave in that moment, and although their parking was gentle, they both flew out of the car like it was on fire. Damian was holding an ice cream cup, despite it being the only a day from Christmas, while Tim was holding a milkshake.

Bruce looked back down at the reports, unconcerned after seeing no blood, limping, or drugs.

“The Batmobile is haunted!” screamed Tim, and Bruce paused in reading his papers. He looked up again and watched as the others approached, confused murmurs and questions filling the air.

“Huh?? What happened?!”

Tim and Damian were trying to explain the events that led up to this moment. Damian was standing next to Tim, who was ranting up and down about what happened.

“Okay, so I was taking Damian for ice cream,” cue some coos from Dick and Steph, with Bruce mentally joining in, “when we were arguing in the car. I hadn’t realized that I had taken my eyes off of the steering wheel until Damian pointed it out. The car was driving on its own! And the autopilot wasn’t turned on!”

Bruce resisted the urge to smack his forehead.

Of course this was how they were discovered. He could almost sense the awkward guilt coming off of the Batmobile from the distance where it was parked in the cave.

“So… you think it’s ghosts?” Steph asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tim and Damian shared a look and then nodded.

“Ghosts?” Jason snorted. “Are you kidding? I bet you’re seeing things.”

“It was real, Todd! Just because you’re brain damaged doesn’t mean the rest of us are—“

Dick interrupted him, “Well, I mean Deadman and Gentleman Ghost exist. Who’s to say that the Batmobile isn’t haunted?”

Jason opened his mouth to argue some more, but Tim spoke up then. “Bruce? You don’t seem surprised.”

Bruce paused on taking a sip of his coffee. All of his children turned to stare at him.

It was Cass who said, “He knows something.”

More than just knew.

Bruce had met and befriended the ghost that haunted the Batmobile. And the Batcomputer. And the gargoyles in Gotham. And the parks. And Arkham Asylum. And Crime Alley. And Blüdhaven. And Gotham City itself.

The point was… Bruce had more than just knowledge on the ghosts haunting the things around him.

————

It had first begun when Batman had started appearing within the city. He had just started working as a vigilante for a few months when one day, he had noticed odd circumstances happening around him.

It happened sporadically, almost randomly enough that he hadn’t gotten suspicious for awhile, but when a pattern was beginning to form, he began to notice.

Whenever he could’ve sworn his hook wouldn’t attach properly to the building, it seemed as though something moved and made it fit perfectly, allowing him to swing to his destination. Whenever he thought that he had lost a criminal, a new alleyway that he wouldn’t be able to recognize would pop up and allow him to block the runaway’s path. Whenever he felt like his computer wouldn’t be able to calculate something or find new information, it would miraculously give him data that he knew for sure that a mere computer could not find.

The most prominent evidence was with the Batmobile. At times, it would speed up on its own, even when he was extremely controlled in how he used the brakes and gas. At others, it would have minuscule but noticeable changes such as adjustments to seating and temperature inside of the car. At one point, Bruce distinctly remembered the car turning and sliding unnaturally past danger, which helped him avoid crashing into a narrow street’s wall when he was dodging gunfire. It had been strange because he was sure that he was going to scrape the car against the wall, but it never happened.

Bruce had personally worked on it with Alfred’s help, so any signs of tampering were impossible. There was no explanation for it, no matter how much Bruce dismantled the car and remade it over and over again.

Even Alfred had that strange look in his eyes now, as if wondering if Bruce had delusions from one too many concussions.

Bruce scoured his library for information, looked up anything on the internet, and even asked informants and help from the few contacts that he knew.

They had a few answers, but none of them made a lot of sense.

In the end, Bruce decided to just confront the problem head-on.

On a lonely summer night, Bruce entered his car and sat in the driving seat, breathing out slowly. Usually, the car did not act out everyday, but today, Bruce had been driving in order to dodge the police that wanted to capture him, and he had seen how the car moved without his turning of the wheel to drive past sharp corners. This had earned him a few precious minutes necessary to throw the police off his trail and allow him to get away.

All this told him was that the car was of help to him, but nothing else.

He started the car, allowing the familiar rumble of his car warm him up. He allowed the Batmobile to run as he thought of what to say.

When he formalized his speech, Bruce cleared his throat and stared at the inside of his car, sleek and polished all over.

“I-I’ve been noticing a few things lately. Strange things happening. I think that you’ve been helping me. I’m… thankful. Thank you for helping me away from the cops today. I appreciate it.”

His voice reverberated inside of the empty car.

“However, I want to meet you. If you’re there. Are you… sentient?” He asked.

The car did not speak.

Well, of course, it couldn’t speak.

He flushed with humiliation as he mentally berated himself. Was he so paranoid, so tired that he was now believing that a car could respond back to him? No wonder Alfred was thinking he was insane.

But in the next moment, he ate his thoughts as the car gave an answering rumble without him revving the car or doing anything.

Bruce stared. Then he said, “Make something move if that was real.”

Another moment of silence. Then there was a click and the windshield wipers began to turn on, swiping across the glass.

Bruce’s breath caught.

“You’re sentient!” He cried, unable to believe it. The air around him began to chill and he watched as the temperature of the air conditioner dropped rapidly until it was low, making his breath come out in vapor. He shivered and looked around frantically.

“Yes,” a soft voice said, “I am.”

Bruce turned to the side, where the voice appeared. A small girl, who looked barely even five, stared at him with wide eyes through a domino mask and a suit that wasn't unlike his. She was tiny, with a black ponytail behind her head and a cape attached to her neck.

He stared and watched as the fabric on her body sparkled with a metallic sheen and her hair flowed in a nonexistent breeze within the enclosed car.

"Are you... a ghost or something?"

The girl smiled. "Kinda." She kicked her feet and giggled. "I'm the spirit that haunts this car. But if you had a plane or a boat, I could haunt those too." She paused and then eagerly asked, "Could you get one? I think it'd be really cool!"

Bruce couldn’t help but smile. “I… I’ll try. What are you, exactly? Can you tell me more about yourself? What are you here for?”

Perhaps he could’ve asked more questions. Maybe he should’ve asked whether or not she was good. She was an unknown variable in his long-term plans, but he couldn’t muster up the animosity needed to interrogate her, not while she looked at him and like him in similar clothes and a smaller form.

“I’m a ghost, and my haunt is your vehicle,” she replied blithely. “I was brought here because my family is also here. They’re also ghosts, and there’s a lot of them around. I think all of my siblings are awake, and so are our friends. A few are still asleep, I think… but I promise we mean no harm. We’re supposed to protect life, as beings who have already crossed to the other side and made a deal with Lady Gotham and Lady Blüdhaven.”

Bruce stared at the ghost in his passenger seat.

“Pardon?”

She explained in more detail. Several centuries ago, Gotham City and Blüdhaven were the haunts of two powerful sister spirits who protected the city and powered it via the emotions of their citizens and their own strength. However, something had befallen them, and they had asked for help from the Ghost King. He had agreed to take over for them, and in one final sacrifice, both city spirits had died and then tied their cities to the Ghost King and his family, who he had asked to assist him.

They all separated and formed their own haunts via some time shenanigans that she would not elaborate on. And thus, several ghosts haunted both cities. There was supposedly one city spirit in Blüdhaven, since it was a much smaller city, and over six in Gotham.

She, ‘Dani’ as she called herself, was one of them.

“We’re usually asleep and we don’t really have awareness or sentience like a normal person most of the time. So it’s difficult for us to age too.” She yawned at this moment. “I’m a weaker spirit, so I have a really small haunt. My big brothers all have a city to themselves, but the rest of us get smaller stuff.”

Bruce asked, “Are you tired?”

She rubbed at the mask that covered her eyes irritably before nodding with another yawn. “I’ll try to come back,” she said, “but I’m usually not “out” like this, so it’s tiring. But the more you take care of me and Gotham, the stronger I’ll get, like my siblings.”

A hand seemed to clench at Bruce’s heart.

More people to depend on him. Another cause to be stronger, faster, and smarter. Further reasons for him to be better, so he could help his city.

“Oh.”

She smiled at him, and it brought a little warmth back into the chill surrounding him. “But I’ll help you. No matter what, we spirits are on your side, Batman.”

Bruce returned the smile. “Thank you.”

It was almost unbelievable, but the amount of details in her explanation proved her right and the way she explained things made sense. No wonder he had so much success as Batman. No wonder it felt like he could run forever on Gotham’s streets and catch criminals all night. No wonder it felt like the city called for him like a beacon, even without the Bat-Signal.

She nodded and in the next blink, she was gone. The temperature increased back to normal. The car was silent and so was Bruce, as he sat in the plush, leather seats and thought to himself. In the end, there was nothing else to do but harden his resolve to do better and help Gotham City.

He met her a few more times, and they officially formed a team, where she would help accelerate the speed of whatever vehicle he was using to get to fight crime and help victims quicker. In return, he would care of the vehicles and allowed her to do what she needed to do without interference.

As time passed, Bruce met the rest of the city spirits.

There was one in Crime Alley, sweet and tall for the age that she looked and laden with bloody pearls that made him avoid looking at her, who was kind and clever. She told him that she had awakened when his parents died, but her gentle condolences did not infuriate him like others did. ‘Jazz’ was her name, and she told him that she would watch over the children in her domain.

He traveled through Gotham City knowing that she would take care of Crime Alley whenever he couldn’t muster up the strength to enter.

There was one in the parks of Gotham, thin and oddly goth, who was stubborn and cool and extremely opinionated. She was even younger than the spirit in Crime Alley, and had a lot of opinions on garden care and vegetarianism. ‘Sam’, she wanted to be called, and she told him not to call her Samantha or she’d make him trip over roots.

He spent money on maintaining the parks in Gotham, and Alfred noted how his own personal gardens in Wayne Manor never seemed to die or wilt.

There was a growing spirit in the computers of the Batcave, gangly and quick-witted and mischievous, who was the same age as the park spirit and grew slowly with advancing technology and only appeared when Bruce was in a rush or desperate. He was named ‘Tucker’, and he liked helping, but only when it was interesting or when he was really needed.

Bruce carefully developed new software and installed better tech every opportunity he could, and the Batcomputer never failed him.

There was another in Arkham Asylum, stern and strong-looking, who was confident and hot-tempered and the same age as the Batcave spirit. She was brave and strong-willed, hating the more murderous patients of the asylum, but had all of the forgiveness and patience needed for the more misguided ones. Her name was ‘Valerie’, and she promised to hold back as many escapees as she could.

He captured runaway patients for her and visited her personally to thank her every time he heard of a failed escape attempt.

There was also a spirit that haunted the gargoyles of Gotham, wily and observant, who traveled from each stone statue for information. He liked investigating things, but hated injustice and lies, and he promised to help Bruce whenever he could find the strength to manifest. ‘Call me Wes’, he had said, before launching into a rant about how annoying the Gotham City spirit was.

They would occasionally exchange information every now and then, with Wes offering blackmail and details for every case he needed.

Bruce had only met the spirit of Blüdhaven once. He was aggressive and murderous, but when Batman had visited the second time for a case, he recognized all of the signs of a spirit’s protection, even though he also attempted to throw him off a few buildings. The Blüdhaven City spirit was hateful but not unreasonable, and although Bruce was encouraged by the other siblings, he decided to just leave the city alone because this ‘Dan’ did not like leaving his domain.

Bruce largely did not bother him. In the future, he would make more frequent trips and bring news of the spirits in Gotham. At least falling beams didn’t drop on him anymore.

He had already met Dani, who haunted the vehicles inside of the Batcave. She loved driving and flying and racing through any part of Gotham. When needed, she could transport herself into any and all vehicles owned by Bruce and his associates, and then power it to be even faster through the strength given to her by Gotham City and the determination of the driver. She was small in size but big in personality, and her carefree, fun-loving personality gave him much relief whenever he needed her as he traveled to wherever needed him most.

He took care of all of his vehicles and crafts, and she pushed him to help quicker.

And lastly, the most impressive and unimpressive spirit of all was the spirit of Gotham. He was a small thing, slender and unassuming, dressed in ragged clothes in his human form with the sharp, haunted eyes of a child from Crime Alley. His name was ‘Danny’, and although he seemed unnoticeable at first, he was noble and kind. When he wasn’t dressed in the starry veil of his spirit form, he was out and about on the streets, helping others as a homeless kid. He helped the forgotten, the downtrodden, the poor, and sick as best as he could.

Unlike his siblings and friends, who were weak and could not be out as a human for long, Danny was not the same. Looking like a small pre-teen, he helped his citizens as much as he could by offering shelter, an extra hand, some random change, and a careful warning.

He supported Bruce in any way that he could, and Bruce wanted nothing more than to make him proud by helping the city.

Time passed.

The spirits, having now awakened with Batman’s debut, began to grow up.

Bruce did not allow himself to be left behind. He grew and learned and trained and did better for his city. The spirits did not appear often, but whenever they were truly needed, they never let him down.

Only a few years into being Batman, he adopted Dick Grayson.

When Dick became Robin, he had been worried about the reaction of the spirits, but they had not appeared angry and even seemed approving, with the way they protected Dick more than Bruce.

He could’ve felt jealous, but really, it was just cute. With how old Dick was and how some of the spirits looked, they could’ve been the same age.

Barbara Gordon soon joined their crew as Batgirl, and the trio helped Gotham by running through its streets for a few more years.

When Bruce had fired Dick in hopes of him retiring and living a peaceful life without harm, Dick had changed his identity of Robin to Nightwing and moved to Blüdhaven.

Bruce nearly had a heart attack from the thought of it, but Danny had laughed and reassured him that Dan had readily accepted him and chosen him as a champion.

“A champion?” Bruce had asked. “What’s that?”

“A champion is a specific hero that a spirit can support and defend. You’re my champion,” Danny smiled, tapping the little batarang-shaped brooch near his heart. “That means I support you. Dan will support Nightwing. He’s possessive, so rest assured that Nightwing will be very, very protected by him.”

And so Bruce breathed a sigh of relief, let him go, and tried not to worry.

Not that long after, Bruce met Jason Todd, who was also quickly adopted.

Jazz had seemed particularly happy, always at the edge of Bruce’s vision whenever she could as he and Jason soared over Gotham roofs.

“Is he her champion?” Bruce had asked Danny. “Since he’s born and raised in Crime Alley?”

Danny chuckled, but he seemed tired. “You’ll see.”

Bruce did not see, because Jason had presumably thrown someone off of a building and then ran off to find his mother, getting killed in the process. By the time Batman had arrived in a plane with its engines nearly combusting from going so fast, it had been too late.

Jason, his son, was dead.

He would no longer smile and make quippy remarks. He would no longer help Alfred in the kitchen. He would no longer fall asleep on the manor’s library, an open book on his lap. He would no longer fly over Gotham and be his partner.

Red, yellow, and green would no longer be by Batman’s side.

Because Robin was dead.

The grief nearly consumed him. He blamed himself. He blamed the Joker. He blamed Jason. He blamed Dick.

He blamed the spirits.

Anything and everything was a target of his sorrow and rage.

He couldn’t help it.

He had already lost family once and became a vigilante to fight crime.

He didn’t know what to do now that he had lost family again, when the cause of death was vigilantism.

Gotham City wasted away as the spirits and Batman mourned for the little Robin who would never fly again, buried in Gotham soil.

Bruce mourned and hated everything in equal measure.

"It's your fault!" He screamed, as Danny stared at him blankly. He was dressed in his extravagant and otherworldly spirit form, his face and eyes covered by a long veil train covered in stars. His clean, neat form only seemed even more infuriating as Bruce felt like he was dissolving from his own madness. "If-If Jason hadn't been— if he had— if only—!"

Danny responded to none of his words until he insulted Jazz, the Crime Alley spirit, for Jason's death. It had been an irrational statement from grief, but they cared not one whit. All hell broke loose as Bruce was kicked off of the roof. He narrowly got away by using his grappling hook, but after that, things began to go badly.

Computer malfunctions, never ending pop music in the Batcave, engine failure, vehicles that refused to open or work properly, tree branches that deliberately slapped him or roots that tripped him on every step, sirens of the Arkham Asylum wailing every day and night, gorgoyles that would move and bat away his grappling hooks— the spirits began to turn against him in petty revenge and pranks.

It had not resulted in deaths of innocents, as even they knew limits, but they never failed to make his life even more miserable or inconvenient than ever.

It wasn't until Batman, in his exhaustion, nearly fell off of a roof and became a splatter on the ground in Crime Alley, and was picked up by the neck like a scruffed kitten by a disgruntled Crime Alley spirit, did it all stop.

"I see you haven't been having a good time," Jazz said. She looked like a teenager now, with her hair in ironed curls and a blindfold around her eyes as she frowned at him.

"... yes," Batman said, because he almost never apologized in his life and in his depression, felt like it was unfair that she got to act out while he could not.

"Batman," she said, her voice stern. "We mourn with you. After all, Jason is one of our own too. He came from my domain and I allowed you to meet him. Danny accepted him as a protector of Gotham and he flew alongside you for years. It was Dani that tried to get you to him faster. It is Danny's soil that he is buried in. His brother lives in Dan's domain as his champion. We all mourn for him, Batman. That does not give you the right to unnecessarily take your anger out on us or any of Gotham's citizens."

"I am meant to protect Gotham," he spat. "I was chosen as his champion!"

"And yet you're breaking limbs for petty crimes. You're terrorizing the streets like a madman. You're making the citizens scared. You are a symbol of redemption and change in this city, Batman. You are not a sign of fear or hatred. Get your act together. Batman is still needed."

Then she dropped him on the roof and left.

Bruce went back into mourning, licking his emotional wounds, but none of the spirits pranked him anymore.

They seemed... pitying.

Bruce apologized to Jazz and blamed it on grief. She forgave him easily, and his world was nothing but gray again.

He tried, but it was hard. Dick did not care enough to come help, lost in Dan's city and his own mourning for his little brother while Barbara had been forced onto the sidelines from her paralysis, which left Bruce on his own, adrift and untethered, unable to blame anyone and unable to unleash his anger. Alfred was there, but like always, he was only a stony pillar in his life. The spirits refused to handle his rage, so all that was left was just an ache for a lost son and a mindless need to run himself to the ground to perhaps quicken his journey to join his family again.

It was the spirits who helped him once more.

Danny subtly nudged Timothy Drake in his direction, and he soon became another Robin with Stephanie Brown and Cassandra Cain joining his team.

Bruce got better, but he was not perfect. He was still angry and hurt and ever-so-slightly lost. But he continued on.

After all, if he quit now, then what was all of this suffering for?

The spirits continued to assist him, along with his family. They were powerful, not omniscient, but no matter what, everything they did was for the betterment of Gotham City.

Time passed with Tim as his Robin, when Jason came back.

With a hunger for revenge and to test Bruce's love for him.

Bruce was so, so, so tired.

He loved his sons. His daughter(s). He loved his family and his duty and he loved Gotham City, but sometimes, it felt as though it was pulling him apart.

Danny and the other spirits (especially Jazz and Valerie) had always lectured him on taking breaks and knowing when to rest, of knowing his limits and being willing to quit when necessary, but Bruce always found it difficult.

As he watched Jason almost self-destruct in his rage and hatred, Bruce wondered if they would blame him if he quit here and now.

But he didn’t.

Things changed. Jason had changed from that sweet, intelligent, charming boy into a young man with a short fuse and an even quicker urge to kill. He beat up Tim, killed dozens of people, and took over the underworld, all to spite Bruce.

In a way, he was proud and so disappointed.

It was Jazz who approached him on the nights that Danny usually spent with him.

Bruce looked up at her, lovely and beautiful and so hauntingly tall that she looked like a monster, just like the domain she haunted, both dangerous and amazing all in one.

She bent down and shifted into her civilian form, one with black and white formal wear, her hair straightened into its natural state as she smiled with bright, turquoise eyes. This way, she looked soft and gentle, a little different from her cold and strict persona as a city spirit of the most violent part of Gotham.

“I can help you with Jason,” she said, when he turned to look at her. When his eyes widened, she continued, “I was going to do it anyways, but I want you to know what you need to do as well.”

“… what do I need to do?”

Jazz smiled. “Just try to welcome him back? It will all work out.”

“Both Jazz and I will help you,” Danny then spoke, from Bruce’s other side. When he turned, he saw Danny, dressed in a ratty hoodie and scuffed up sneakers. Danny smiled teasingly. “I can’t let my champion go without his family, right? Jason has been chosen as Jazz’s champion. You don’t have to agree with his methods, but that is a problem of Jazz and Jason.”

“And I don’t care,” Jazz said tonelessly. “I don’t like it, but it has proven effective. Do not try to stop him too much, Batman. He needs to learn for himself.”

Bruce scowled, hating the fact that both spirits condoned murders, even if they were the deaths of criminals and drug dealers, but Gotham City and Crime Alley had spoken and he had learned his lesson before in rejecting their advice and going against them.

They were not his enemies.

They did not have to agree with him, and he was not beholden to their beliefs either.

They trusted him, and they were his closest and longest allies.

He sighed. “I understand.”

Jazz smiled, patted his arm, and then disappeared back to her domain. Danny stayed behind and they chatted for a long while before he too, had to leave before coming back for the next meeting.

It was frustrating at times, how the spirits could not always be there, but Bruce knew that they could not help it. They still had not gained enough strength to appear constantly, and they tried their hardest to help him even in their passive states.

Bruce sighed and moved on to try and coax Jason into a healthier, less murderous lifestyle with a lot less lecturing and judging, which seemed to shock Dick and Jason. (He pretended not to be offended by this.)

When Bruce saw Jazz next time in her spirit form, he felt a little emotional and sentimental when she appeared with a symbol of Jason's Red Hood on her chest, tying her fur coat together as a brooch, not unlike the brooch on Danny’s chest that looked like Batman’s signal.

Jason got the help he needed from Jazz (Bruce wasn’t entirely sure how this was done since neither of them nor Danny said a word about it to him and Bruce knew that Jason had never met any of the spirits), and soon, he began to integrate himself back into the family. Tim was a little resistant at first, but things were looking up.

But this was life, where the chaos never ended.

Soon, Damian joined the team and tried to kill Tim. Bruce barely held himself back from shipping him straight back to the League, but Danny and Dani knocked some sense into him, and even Jazz came to scold him heavily. Bruce was lectured day and night by disappointed city spirits and eventually, he taught himself to be patient and kind to his youngest son, who had been torn away from a life he knew into one that was very, very different.

Damian was insufferable at times, but Bruce found that he truly did love his son. He grew up kind and honorable, and in the end, it felt worth it.

Bruce wished that life would become sunshine and rainbows, but this was Gotham City, covered in smog and clouds and haunted by a teenage ghost who was friends with a tech geek spirit and a goth spirit. Things happened one after another and although the spirits prevented some things from happening, it was inevitable that they could not help him when he was not on Gotham or Blüdhaven soil.

Bruce got knocked into the timestream. Danny traveled with him and throughout the different timelines, several other city spirits appeared, even Dan, and they helped him survive and get back to his family.

And finally, when Bruce was reunited with his family, with his sons and daughter and mentally adopted daughter and butler, he could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

————

Things had been relatively peaceful now, with no major fights or violent disagreements between any of his children or family. Even the city had been calm for awhile, most like in preparation for the holidays.

Bruce snapped out of his memories when his children all turned to him, staring intensely for answers. He blinked as they all stared at him with wide eyes.

"B?" Dick asked, raising an eyebrow, "what do you think?"

Bruce was quiet.

He hadn't meant to keep the secret for so long, but he just could never find an opportunity to bring it up.

Eventually, as his children all stared at him with growing concern, doubt, and confusion, he said, “No, it’s true. Both Gotham City and Blüdhaven are haunted.”

There were gasps and then cries of confusion and demands for answers. Tim looked at him for clarification, as Damian gloated over the fact that he and Tim already knew. Bruce’s lips twitched in a smile before Jason suddenly asked, “Wait a minute! If it really is haunted, then how do you know and not us? Did you meet them before?”

Bruce tilted his head as his children turned to look at him again. Then he said, “I knew them in my first year of being Batman.”

“That was before I adopted,” Dick muttered to himself, but everyone only looked even more interested.

“So you met them? The ghosts or whatever? Can we see them right now? Are they in the car?” Stephanie rambled.

Bruce thought about it. The spirits did not mind being outed (in fact, they had protested to being kept a secret and Bruce was constantly nagged about his poor habit of doing so), so they wouldn’t be angry if he brought the entire family to meet them now.

It was high time his children met the spirits of the city.

Bruce nodded. “I can take you to meet them. I have to give them their Christmas presents anyways.”

They all cheered again and burst with more questions. Bruce ignored them, even Dick who was climbing him like a tree and whining to know more, as he collected the presents that he had gotten for the spirits. He went to the Batcomputer, still ignoring Dick and Cass who were now hanging off of him, and typed a short message into a document.

‘Meet up at Amusement Mile in 10 minutes.’

He left it open, as Tim then asked, “You can communicate with the ghost through the Batcomputer? Are they actually ghosts?”

“You’ll see,” Bruce said, as Dick and Cass were now attempting to choke him for answers. He collected a few more presents and a laptop. He tossed his kids off of him and dodged another attempt by Steph to catch him before he whistled.

He threw a pair of keys to Jason, who looked at it, confused.

“Take that bike, will you?” Bruce asked, pointing to the shiny new black adventure bike. “You can follow after the car.”

Jason whistled as he finally recognized the new bike. “Damn! When the hell did you get this beauty?”

Stephanie raised a hand enthusiastically. “Can I come with?!”

“Hop on, blondie. Can we go now?”

Bruce resisted the urge to sigh.

For a moment, he was unsure of himself.

For so long, the existence of the spirits were solely his. No one around him knew that they were there.

And now, both sides, his family and the spirits, would be officially meeting for the first time.

He shook off the thoughts and got into the Batmobile, where the rest of his team followed. He made sure that all of them were wearing the appropriate gear and uniform, since it was already winter and only growing colder. Damian complained but Dick was able to wrap a scarf around his neck.

Bruce didn’t fully close the door again when Alfred walked into the cave and asked, “When will all of you expect to be back, Master Bruce?”

He paused. Then he said, “Do you want to come with, Alfred?”

“Oh dear. Whatever for?”

“To meet the ghosts!” Damian spoke up for Bruce. “Come with us, Pennyworth. It’ll surely be interesting.”

Alfred sighed, though there was a touch of fondness before he also entered the Batmobile. Cass easily surrendered the passenger seat to him, slipping into the back.

Jason, from the new bike, laughed and crowed, “Hell yeah! Now it’s a full party!”

Bruce couldn’t resist a smile as he patted the steering wheel. The Batmobile began to purr and soon enough, they all sped out of the cave and through the streets of Gotham. The sun was starting to set, casting the world in orange hues. His children were all in the backseat, chattering and making theories as Jason and Stephanie joined in on their own comms. Both he and Alfred sat together in companionable silence as Bruce idly drove.

Then, as they reached a good spot, he let go of the wheel and said, “Dani, your turn.”

The car swerved out of control and just as Tim and Dick yelped loudly, the car steadied itself, straightening, and then immediately went into overdrive, zipping through the streets. The view outside of the windows passed into a colorful blur too fast to see as the engine rumbled like thunder.

“Holy Batman!” Dick screamed with a laugh as they swerved and turned crazily, narrowly dodging a sharp corner.

Everyone in the car tilted dramatically before Dani righted the car again and they all dropped back into their seats.

“Good heavens!” Alfred cried, hanging onto his chair tightly with wide eyes as the car continued accelerating into impossible speeds.

Bruce just smiled, sitting still while his kids were all squealing from the rapid maneuvers of Dani. They all looked like they were having fun though, and Bruce just held tightly onto the presents as Dani approached Amusement Mile.

After nearly jumping over the gates, she immediately slowed down to a smooth halt in front of an empty food court in the abandoned theme park.

“Oh my god, I think I’m dizzy,” Tim complained.

“You’re so weak,” Damian snipped back, although he looked a little dazed himself. Meanwhile, Cass and Dick were beaming wide smiles, looking as though they wanted to do that again.

“The autopilot wasn’t on, so was that one of the ghosts who controlled the car?” Dick asked cheerfully.

Bruce nodded, avoiding Alfred’s sharp glares. “You’ll meet them all today.” He left the car, helping out Cass and Tim. Jason and Stephanie arrived moments later.

“B! What the hell?! Why were you going so fast?!”

“It was the ghost!” Tim said. “He was controlling the car.”

“‘She’,” Bruce corrected. “It’s a she that’s controlling the car.”

When everyone turned to look at him critically for more answers, he turned his face away and opened up the laptop that he took from the Batcave. He opened it and placed it on a table placed in the outside food court. It turned on with a blink and Bruce put in the password.

“… did you just type 696969?” Stephanie asked, sounding extremely amused.

Bruce sighed as his kids all snickered like preteen boys.

The place around them was empty and dusty. His children, after observing him for a moment as he typed away on the laptop, silently found seats around him at the tables of the food court, all seated close to each other. Alfred remained standing, looking around in a slightly confused fashion but unwilling to say a word. Bruce looked down at his feet, where grass and weeds were growing in the cracks of the neglected cement.

Then he focused on the laptop again and pressed a few buttons on the laptop before taking a step back.

His kids all perked up. Even Alfred straightened the tiniest bit.

There was a crackle.

And then—

“Batman!” A voice called.

Everyone turned to look at the car, where Dani was sitting on top. She was dressed in her civilian clothes, a pair of jeans and a regular sweater. She waved happily, lovely and warm like sunshine. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail and when she hopped off of the roof of the Batmobile, it bounced around her face in wild waves.

She approached and everyone but Bruce stared in confusion and fascination.

“I thought I’d finally come out since you didn’t say anything,” Dani explained to Bruce. She turned to his kids and waved. A few waved back.

A new voice appeared. “Ugh, what took you so long to bring me here?”

Tucker stretched. He was also in his civilian form and he wiggled his fingers playfully when the others whipped their heads around to gape at him. He sat down at a table and said, “You took forever to bring me out. When is everyone else coming?”

“Already here,” Sam said, bored and in full goth, stepping out of a patch of grass to sit next to Tucker. “Wassup, Bruce.”

Bruce acknowledged her with a nod.

“We’re here,” Wes said, coming out of the walls with Valerie by his side. Both were also dressed casually. “Sorry, are we late?”

“We still have the other three,” Sam said. “B is introducing us to his kids.”

“Finally!” Valerie snapped, sitting down with a huff. “We’ve been telling you to tell them for so long!”

Bruce said, “I know, but none of them figured it out until now.”

“Hey,” Dick complained, “How are we supposed to know? They’re ghosts!”

Bruce gave him a level look. “Through observation and careful inspection. You should’ve—“

“Lay off of them, Bruce,” Sam interrupted with a small smile. “We kept ourselves hidden from them because it seemed like you didn’t want them to know.”

At this, everyone glared at Bruce, while he just sighed. Dani spoke up and said, “It was because I was careless today that they noticed. Don’t blame it on them.”

Another figure stepped out of the shadows and Jason startled, standing up. “Wolf?” He blurted, and Bruce looked over to see Jazz walking to them, a black helmet over her head and wearing a bodysuit. She paused when she saw Jason, gave a small wave, and then sat down next to Dani, who cheered when she saw her.

“Jazz!” She said, tackling her in a hug. “I haven’t seen you in forever!”

Jazz laughed. “What are you talking about? We saw each other the other day, remember?”

The five spirits burst into excited chatter, since it was rare that they ever met up like this, all together at once. Usually, it was only a few one-on-one meetups and Bruce knew this, so he stayed silent as did his family, giving the spirits the space needed to chat while also allowing his family to observe. Jason looked moody, but didn’t say a word.

Out of nowhere, Dan dropped in from the air, dressed in a stained bartender’s uniform. He scowled at Bruce.

“Couldn’t you have chosen somewhere closer to Blüdhaven? I had to travel over the entirety of Gotham City just to get here!”

Bruce bowed his head in apology. “I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll make sure it’s closer.”

Dan scoffed. “You better,” he snapped, before he made a complete 180 and beamed at his sisters. “Jazz! Dani! You’re looking lovely today!”

Bruce’s family stared between him and the Blüdhaven city spirit.

“Are there… more?” Stephanie asked, after sneaking over to him while the tables of spirits chatted.

Bruce nodded and raised a finger for one.

Tim also slid over and said, “They don’t look like ghosts.”

Damian, having crept alongside Tim, muttered, “They don’t look important or powerful either. Father, what is going on?”

Alfred sighed. “Young masters, please sit down and stop standing around and whispering.”

They sat down. Tim and Steph shared a seat, both hanging on via a buttcheek as Damian had pushed Tim off of his. Bruce didn’t say a word, though he was inwardly exasperated and already regretting this entire meeting.

Dick was staring at Dan critically, while Jason was staring at Jazz with a frown. They obviously knew each other, but Bruce still didn’t know how. Cass was just looking between all of the spirits, looking slightly confused.

Finally, the last guest arrived. Footsteps sounded from nearby and Danny jogged over to them with an easy smile.

“Sorry, am I late?”

“Yes!” All of the spirits shouted, glaring at him.

Danny just grinned and then looked over at Bruce. “Hello. Finally showing us off?”

Bruce nodded. Then he stood up and said, “Everyone. Meet the city spirits of Gotham City and Blüdhaven.” He began to gesture to them as he gave introductions. “This is Dani, the spirit of the Batvehicles. She controls all of the Batvehicles in the cave. This is Tucker, the Batcomputer spirit. This is Sam, spirit of all plant life in Gotham City. This is Wes, spirit of Gotham City gargoyles. This is Valerie, the Arkham Asylum spirit.”

This earned several shocked looks and gasps. Valerie gave a polite nod with a hint of pride. Bruce moved on.

“And this is Jazz, the Crime Alley spirit.” Jason’s expression twitched. “This is Dan, the city spirit of Blüdhaven, and this is Danny, the city spirit of Gotham City.”

Danny smiled at them.

When he finished, there was a burst of noise and confusion. Bruce endured it all for a moment before he raised a hand, quieting everyone, and then said, “Let me explain.”

Bruce talked about how he noticed them in his first year of being Batman (he got a very strong glare from Alfred for keeping this from him), then how he met Dani and befriended all of the other spirits. He talked about how they helped him, how they accepted the Robins as protectors of the city alongside Batman, how they taught him and assisted him in vigilantism, and how they were fundamental in protecting him and the city.

He went on to explain what and who they were in more detail, and when he described Jazz and Danny, everyone stared in a mixture of disbelief and awe. When it was done, everyone just stared at him with bafflement on their faces.

Bruce shifted uncomfortably. Alfred’s gaze was especially cutting.

“Wait… so… you’re saying that these all-powerful spirits look like… this?” Stephanie asked, clearly trying not to be rude as she gestured to them all.

Tucker snorted. “This isn’t our real form. It’s just our civilian one, so we can interact with you guys.”

Tim asked, “Could we see it? Your real forms?” He turned to look at Bruce questioningly, who just looked at Danny.

Danny shrugged with a smile and waved a hand in front of his face. In an instant, a veil slid over his head and back, inky black with twinkling stars lighting up the inside. He wore a formal vest and cape tie, with his coat shoulder robing him. His brooch shone brightly over his heart.

The air began to chill even further than the winter night.

Jazz took off her helmet and her red hair fell down in curly waves, her bodysuit exchanging for a dark fur coat and a long, blue dress with black gloves. Pearls circled her throat and wrists, dripping with blood. Her brooch flashed and Jason straightened his back at the sight of it.

Dan sighed and his bartender uniform melted away into a dark blue policeman uniform, formal and distinct. His skin turned translucently green and his hair bled white. His hat covered his eyes as he leaned back in his chair slowly. His brooch, cut in the shape of Nightwing’s symbol, was bright against his dark clothes.

Tucker waved his hands and his casual ware was exchanged for a high-tech suit that wasn’t dissimilar to Batman’s own appearance. However, there was no cape and the color was more gold and brown than black and gray. The white eyes were exchanged for a visor that flashed.

Sam brushed a hand against her skirt and her outfit turned into green and purple, something like what Poison Ivy would wear stretching and growing over her skin. Leafy clothes and flowery details covered her body until she could’ve blended into a garden perfectly. Flowers began to pop into existence beneath them all.

Wes shook his head and everything about him turned into granite. His clothes became formal, like a suit from the 1800s, and horns and wings began to grow from his head and back stiffly. He sat in his chair, unmoving and still.

Valerie flicked her hair behind her head and her yellow clothes began to bleed into white with red stains. She wore a uniform that looked like the combined versions of both a nurse and a doctor, with a cloth covering her mouth and red goggles over her eyes. Her curly hair seemed to have grown even messier.

Dani was the last to show off her form, and she spread her arms and her clothes transformed into that unique style she had developed not too long ago, something that looked like a cross between Batman and Robin. It was all black and gray, with yellow, green, and red accents. She had a bright yellow belt and a long cape that glimmered with holographic shapes.

“Ta da!” She cheered. “What do you all think?”

The air had become bone-freezing cold, frost appearing on Bruce’s eyelashes and his breath turning into white clouds. It was cold before, but now it was blood curdling. There was a pause where the spirits all looked at each other before they switched back in an instant, and the temperature flew up, warming them immediately.

Everyone sighed from the relief, and Bruce handed Alfred his cape, who sighed before taking it begrudgingly. Then in that moment, his kids stood up and approached the spirits as they immediately went to chat with one another, completely ignoring Bruce.

Dick ambushed Dan, who didn’t seem unhappy with him as he was immediately pulled into an animated conversation with him. Bruce recalled how Jazz and Dani talked about how much Dan liked his eldest son, so it was no surprise.

Dani was chatting with Stephanie and Cass, waving her arms exaggeratedly as she talked. Steph looked at her like she was the cutest thing on the planet, while Cass stared at her like she was an interesting, but endearing bug underneath a magnifying glass.

Damian and Tim were chatting with Valerie, Sam, and Wes in a serious conversation. They seemed to be debating something, with Damian and Valerie mostly doing the talking with Tim and Sam interjecting every once in awhile. Wes looked as though he was trying to instigate an argument, however, as everyone glared at him whenever he talked.

Jason had already pulled Jazz into a corner of the building, and they leaned against the wall and talked quietly, shoulders pressed together.

It looked… intimate.

Bruce almost wanted to march over there and pull them apart, but he barely held back when Danny and Tucker approached their table. Tucker immediately pulled Alfred into a conversation about the maintenance of the Batcomputer, mostly with the both of them complaining about how the kids were so messy around the keyboard.

Danny sat next to Bruce and said, “So why did you call us here?”

Bruce blinked, pulling his gaze away from his son and the spirit of Crime Alley. “What?”

“Why’d you call us here? You usually don’t summon us all at once.”

Bruce said, “Dani accidentally revealed herself to Tim and Dami. I thought it was high time that I introduced all of you.” Danny looked back at his siblings, all who were deep into their conversations.

Bruce followed his gaze, watching his kids have fun and make friends with the spirits.

He felt satisfied, looking at them. He wanted nothing more than for his children to be happy, safe, and protected. The spirits had helped him many times when he was still starting out as Batman, giving his advice and narrowly saving his life multiple times.

Now, hopefully, they would help his children too.

Bruce continued, “And it’s Christmas.”

Danny didn’t turn to look at him, only humming, “That’s true. It is the holiday season.”

“I got you and the rest of the spirits presents,” Bruce said, and Danny perked up.

“What?! Are you for real?!” Danny cried excitedly. “Can I see? Please? Now?”

Bruce laughed. He presented the gift to him, and when the other spirits took notice, they also approached, pulling away from their conversations. Jason and Jazz were the last to come over.

“Ooh, what is it?”

“Open it!”

“Do we also get one?”

Bruce passed out their gifts as his kids also crowded around and heckled them into opening it.

One by one, they all opened their gifts.

Dani received a bucket full of (human) treats and snacks, with a bottle of motor oil at the bottom. She cheered when she saw it and immediately opened a bag of gummies to share with everyone else.

Sam received several packs of the seeds of poisonous flowers and plants. She happily took it as the people around her took a wary step back away from her.

Tucker received a Bluetooth speaker. He declared that he would use it to annoy Bruce and Tim into sleeping whenever they stayed up too late, and everyone but Bruce and Tim cheered.

Wes received a high quality camera. Tim offered to help him use it efficiently, and he accepted, with both of them leaving the table to chat about it.

Valerie received a tube full of anesthesia. Like Sam, everyone took a step away from her as she hugged the capsule to herself.

Jazz received the bike that Bruce had asked Jason to bring. She jumped up and down and thanked him profusely and for some reason, Jason glared at him for it.

Dan received a photo album. He took a peek and then closed it tight, smiling to himself as he refused any questions asked. Bruce knew it was a photo album of the few times he was able to take pictures of the spirits, as well as an entire horde of Dick’s photos.

Danny received the deed to a new building built in Gotham City, an observatory tower for the stars. When he saw it, his face split into a beaming smile like a miniature sun and when the other spirits saw it, they also congratulated him, especially Dani who wanted to see it as well.

“It’s still being built,” Bruce explained, but Danny didn’t seem to care.

“Thank you so much!” He said happily, admiring the deed to the building in his hands.

Bruce felt various eyes from both spirits and humans on him. He didn’t mind. He smiled and enjoyed how much they all loved the gifts they got from him, gifts that they deserved. As all of the spirits admired their presents and chatted with his children, Alfred turned to him.

“If I recall correctly, I believe that you have mentioned them before. They must have been the friends you mentioned a long time ago, hm?”

Bruce nodded. “They’ve been with me since I first started.”

Alfred hummed. “They seem like good children.”

Bruce smiled and nodded again.

The hours passed and eventually, Sam and Valerie couldn’t handle the strain anymore. They disappeared back into their domains, signaling the end of the reunion. More and more spirits began to leave, with waning enthusiasm as their strength was being drained from being out too much. The car and laptop were left behind by Dani and Tucker when they disappeared. Only Jazz and Danny seemed relatively fine, as the rest began to leave back to their haunts. They still looked tired though, and Jazz politely excused herself.

“You’re leaving already?” Jason asked, as Jazz straddled her bike.

She nodded, her helmet covering her face once more.

“We’ll talk more later?” Jazz said, and Jason gave a firm nod.

“At 2. At the usual place.”

She nodded and left, fading into shadows.

Danny was the only one left. He held the deed in his hands and smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Bruce. You should go home now. Spend some time with your family. We appreciate the gifts you’ve given to us, champion, and do not worry, we will watch over the city and your family.”

Bruce gave a nod.

Danny reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. The weight of it was heavy and significant, but it also spread a warmth through Bruce’s body.

It was an extra blessing for the night.

Bruce gave him a minuscule dip of his head. Danny just smiled and like a cloud, dissipated.

Bruce released a small sigh of relief.

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure what he had felt about his kids and the spirits meeting. He wanted the spirits to protect them. He wanted his kids to accept them. He was just… scared. For some reason.

But everything had gone well.

The spirits had always loved his children, and his kids were never probably not able to offend them. After all, they were also vigilantes of Gotham, and all of them risked their lives on the daily to help the city.

It was no shock that they got along like a house on fire.

The blessings of the spirits meant a lot.

His children would now have extra help by their side to keep them safe if he wasn’t able to.

It was Cass that spoke up and brought him out of his thoughts.

“B? Home now?”

Bruce nodded.

He felt… strangely full. Like eating a full meal. He felt satisfied and content.

He smiled, then. “Shall we go do some last minute Christmas shopping?”

Alfred sighed, as the kids cheered, enthusiastically agreeing since they now wanted to open their own gifts after watching the spirits. Bruce couldn’t help but laugh as Cass stuck by his side and Damian insisted on picking another fight with Tim with Jason instigating as always.

Bruce blinked and looked up as he felt something cold fall over his face.

Snowflakes drifted down, bright against the dark sky.

Alfred hummed. “It’s snowing. Master Bruce, shall we go back into the Batmobile?”

Bruce smiled.

“Yes. Let’s go.”

It was Christmas Eve. And with his family by his side and the blessings of the spirits, Bruce had nothing else to worry about for awhile.

“Wait, B! We’re not patrolling today?”

Bruce shook his head. The spirits had agreed to patrol for him, so he could spend the entire day with his family. They all looked surprisingly hopeful at him, even Jason.

Yes, it was a good day today.

Tomorrow would be even better.

“Nope. Today and tomorrow are days all to ourselves!”

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Merry Christmas (Eve)! I hope you guys enjoyed this fic. It’s scary how the year is already starting to end. Ty to @meditating-cat for betaing my fic for me!

Me: *writing a Bruce-sympathetic fic*

Me: Is this character development (for me)?

This fic is meant to be comical and fun, so I tried to breeze past the sad parts as best as I could.

At one point, Danny was acting too mature and this fic was starting to look like a Spirit Halloween ship fic, so I had to quickly change things up :,/

This fic is inspired by this idea specifically, but also about the Gotham City spirit Danny AU on my blog here. (Look at the tags for more).

Wolf is Jazz’s vigilante name and she is part of my assistant!Jazz AU.

393 notes · View notes

reidmarieprentiss · 2 days ago

Text

Call Me Dad

Summary: You take Spencer home for Christmas.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, comfort

Warnings/Includes: use of Y/N, you have a mom and a dad, airplane

Word count: 8.7k

a/n: i literally wrote this dinner the summer and just remembered it lmaooo NOT PROOF READ

Spencer and you have been dating for six blissful months. You are his first girlfriend at 25 years old, and while he is still anxious he could do something wrong, you prove time and time again that he has nothing to worry about. You've already told him you love him, and he treasures the way you feel. He hasn't returned the sentiment yet, but you're not upset about it. You understand that he needs his time, and you're more than willing to give it to him.

With Christmas approaching, you ask him to come home with you for the holidays. His mom is on a Caribbean cruise with her residents and caretakers, and you can't stand the idea of him being alone during this special time of year. Spencer hesitates at first. Memories of his dad leaving him when he was young, combined with his mom not often being in a state to parent, have left him unsure of how to navigate familial interactions.

Despite his nerves, Spencer accepts your invitation, knowing how much this means to you and wanting to be a part of your world. He's never been good around parents, but he knows this is a chance to experience something he's always wanted: a warm, loving holiday with someone who truly cares for him.

Spencer's anxiety was at an all-time high as the two of you made your way through the bustling airport. You could feel the tension radiating off him, his shoulders hunched and eyes darting around as if he were expecting something catastrophic to happen at any moment. His usual calm demeanor had all but disappeared, replaced by a bundle of nerves that made him appear more like a skittish cat than the brilliant profiler he was.

Recognizing his unease, you took the lead, gently guiding him through the labyrinthine halls and throngs of people. Your hand wrapped securely around his, you navigated the chaos of the airport with practiced ease. Spencer was content to let you take charge, grateful for your steady presence beside him.

Once you reached security, Spencer fumbled with his belongings, his fingers trembling slightly as he removed his shoes and placed them into the plastic bins. The noise and commotion seemed to blur together, creating a cacophony that only heightened his nerves.

"It's okay," you whispered reassuringly, brushing your thumb over the back of his hand. "Just breathe. We'll be through this in no time."

He nodded, taking a deep breath and doing his best to focus on your calming words rather than the endless line of travelers. With you by his side, he managed to get through security and baggage checks without too much trouble, though he was visibly relieved when the ordeal was over.

As you settled into your seats on the plane, Spencer finally seemed to relax, even if just a little. The roar of the engines and the hum of people boarding around you faded into the background as he focused on the comfort of your presence. He clasped your hand tightly, resting it in his lap as if it were a security blanket.

Despite his well-documented aversion to germs, Spencer was willing to overlook the potential contamination of the airplane seat if it meant keeping you close. In truth, he needed something tangible to hold onto—something that reminded him he wasn't alone in this unfamiliar and slightly terrifying journey.

"I'll definitely need a hot shower once we arrive at the hotel," Spencer muttered with a half-smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

You chuckled softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Well, if that’s the price of getting to spend Christmas together, I think it's worth it. Besides, the hotel has great water pressure."

Spencer managed a genuine smile at that, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as the plane began to taxi down the runway. The steady thrum of the engines provided a soothing background noise, and he found himself focusing on the rhythmic sound of your breathing instead of the clamorous thoughts still circling in his mind.

As the plane ascended into the sky, Spencer gave your hand a gentle squeeze. He felt a warmth spreading through his chest, grateful for your unwavering support and the way you always seemed to know exactly what he needed.

The steady hum of the airplane engine and the gentle warmth of the cabin worked their magic on Spencer, lulling him into a deep sleep shortly after takeoff. The tension that had gripped him so tightly began to ebb away as his eyelids grew heavy, and soon he was slipping into a much-needed rest. His head rested comfortably against your shoulder, a soft snore escaping his lips as his breathing evened out. You watched him with a fond smile, glad to see him finally relax.

—

The flight seemed to pass in the blink of an eye as Spencer remained blissfully unaware of the turbulence or the occasional announcements crackling over the intercom. When the plane finally touched down, the jolt barely registered in his sleepy daze.

You gently nudged him awake, whispering, "Hey, sleepyhead. We've landed." He blinked groggily, trying to shake off the remnants of his nap as he stretched and rubbed his eyes under his glasses.

"Mmm," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. "We're here already?"

You chuckled softly, helping him gather his belongings. "Yes, we are. Come on, let's get through the airport."

In his post-nap haze, Spencer moved almost on autopilot, following your lead as you navigated the bustling terminal. The world around him felt surreal, the bustling crowds and overhead announcements fading into a distant hum. He kept a firm hold on your hand, trusting you to guide him through the maze of travelers and luggage carts.

Picking up the rental car was a blur. Spencer watched as you handled the paperwork, his mind still foggy from sleep. He leaned against the counter, blinking slowly as if trying to process everything happening around him. Once the keys were in hand, you led him to the car, and he gratefully sank into the passenger seat.

"Why don’t you close your eyes for a bit while I drive us to the hotel?" you suggested, glancing over at him with a smile.

Spencer nodded, resting his head against the window. The rhythmic motion of the car soon lulled him back into a state of semi-consciousness, where he drifted in and out of sleep, vaguely aware of the passing scenery.

When you finally arrived at the hotel, Spencer was roused once more, his sleepy daze still clinging to him as you checked in and made your way to your room. He stretched as he stood in the elevator, trying to shake off the last vestiges of slumber.

Once inside the hotel room, Spencer looked around with bleary eyes, taking in the cozy atmosphere. "This looks nice," he mumbled, a hint of appreciation in his voice.

"It does," you agreed, dropping your bags and heading toward the bathroom. "Why don't you take that shower you were looking forward to? I'll unpack while you do."

Spencer nodded, grateful for the suggestion. The promise of a hot shower was too enticing to resist, and he quickly gathered his toiletries and a fresh change of clothes. As he stepped into the bathroom, the sound of the rushing water immediately filled the space, creating a soothing ambiance.

He let out a sigh of relief as he stepped under the showerhead, the water smoothing over him with an invigorating force that seemed to wash away the last remnants of travel fatigue. The hotel, as promised, had excellent water pressure, and Spencer couldn't help but revel in the sensation. He closed his eyes, letting the steam envelop him as he began to feel truly awake for the first time since they boarded the plane.

With a renewed sense of calm, Spencer finished his shower and emerged from the bathroom, feeling refreshed and ready to embrace whatever came next. He found you unpacking and couldn’t help but smile, appreciating the small but significant act of settling into this new space together.

"All clean?" you asked, glancing up from the suitcase with a knowing grin.

"Yes," Spencer replied, running a towel through his hair. "And you were right. The water pressure is fantastic."

You chuckled, walking over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Told you so. Now, are you ready to explore? I figured we could take a walk, get some fresh air, and maybe grab something to eat."

Spencer nodded, feeling more at ease than he had all day. "That sounds perfect," he said, slipping his hand into yours as you both headed out into the world beyond the hotel, eager to make the most of this special time together.

—

That night, Spencer found himself lying wide awake in the darkened hotel room, his mind racing with thoughts that refused to quiet down. The shadows danced across the ceiling, and the gentle hum of the air conditioning did little to soothe the anxious thrum of his heart. His anxieties swirled relentlessly, fueled by the thought of meeting your family for the first time.

He couldn't help but wonder what they would think of him. The prospect of meeting your parents was daunting enough, but what about your siblings? Did they have partners? How many people would he have to interact with? Spencer's mind spun with hypothetical scenarios, each one more nerve-wracking than the last. He feared making a poor impression or saying something that would betray his social awkwardness. Would they see him as the socially awkward genius he often felt like, or would they recognize the man you loved?

He turned slightly, glancing over at your sleeping form beside him. The moonlight filtering through the curtains cast a soft glow on your peaceful face, and Spencer felt a wave of gratitude wash over him. You looked so serene, so completely at ease, and he envied your ability to find rest so effortlessly. He couldn't help but feel a deep appreciation for your invitation to join him for the holidays. It was a significant gesture, a sign of trust and affection that meant more to him than he could easily express.

As he watched you sleep, he couldn't shake the guilt that crept in alongside his fears. You had been nothing but supportive and understanding since the day you met, always knowing how to ease his worries with a kind word or a gentle touch. And yet, here he was, plagued by doubts and insecurities. It felt unfair, especially when he knew how excited you were to introduce him to your family.

"If this family raised you," he mused to himself, "they couldn't be all bad." The thought lingered, providing a small comfort amid the turmoil of his mind. After all, if they were responsible for shaping the incredible person you had become, surely they possessed qualities worth admiring.

Spencer let out a soft sigh, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling once more. He tried to focus on the positives—the fact that you wanted him there with you, that you believed in him enough to introduce him to the people who mattered most. It was a gesture of acceptance, a sign that he had become an integral part of your life, and that alone was enough to make him feel a little braver.

In the quiet stillness of the room, he closed his eyes and tried to calm his racing thoughts. He reminded himself that he was not alone in this. You were there, right beside him, and that was more reassuring than anything else. As he listened to the gentle rhythm of your breathing, he slowly began to relax, the warmth of your presence wrapping around him like a comforting blanket.

—

The next morning, Spencer awoke to one of his favorite sights: you, comfortably nestled against the pillows, your hair tousled from sleep. The sun filtered gently through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You were sitting up with a book in your hands, your glasses slightly askew, an endearing nod to your dedication to the story that had captured your attention even this early in the day.

He watched you quietly for a moment, a soft smile spreading across his face as he took in the familiar scene. There was something immensely comforting about the way you immersed yourself in your book, completely absorbed in the world the author had crafted (he doesn’t know you’re reading smut). It was a reflection of the curiosity and passion that he admired so much in you, a trait that you both shared and often bonded over.

“Good morning,” he finally murmured, his voice still a bit husky from sleep.

You looked up from your book, your eyes brightening as they met his. “Morning, sunshine,” you replied with a playful grin. “I didn’t want to wake you. You seemed like you needed the rest.”

Spencer stretched, feeling the remnants of sleep ease out of his muscles. “I appreciate that,” he said, propping himself up on one elbow. “Didn’t sleep much at first, but I feel better now.”

You set your book aside, giving him your full attention. “Were you up worrying about today?”

He nodded, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “A little bit,” he admitted. “I couldn’t stop thinking about meeting your family. It’s kind of a big deal.”

You reached over, gently adjusting his hair, which had gone a bit wild during the night. “I get it. It is a big deal, but I promise it’s not as scary as it seems. They’re just people who love me, and they’ll love you too because of that.”

Spencer felt his heart swell at your words. Your unwavering confidence in him was like a balm to his nerves, calming the storm of anxiety that had plagued him. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Probably stay home and read all day,” you teased, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. “But you’re here with me, and that’s what matters.”

Spencer chuckled, feeling some of the tension lift from his shoulders. “True. I’d much rather be here with you than anywhere else.”

“Oh, just a little fantasy novel,” you replied, holding the book to your chest with a private smile. “Faeries, creatures, magic, the lot.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow, a look of genuine curiosity crossing his face. “Really? I didn’t know you were into fantasy.”

You shrugged playfully, a mischievous glint in your eye. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Doctor Reid. I have a soft spot for worlds where the impossible becomes possible.”

He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “I suppose that makes sense. You’ve always had a knack for finding magic in the mundane.”

You leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I think you’re the one who does that, Spencer. You make even the most ordinary things seem extraordinary.”

He felt a flush of warmth spread across his cheeks at your words. It was moments like these that reminded him of how lucky he was to have you in his life. Despite his initial hesitations, you had shown him a world full of wonder and possibility, much like the stories you loved to read.

As you both settled into the morning, Spencer felt a renewed sense of hope for the day ahead. He knew that with you by his side, he could face whatever challenges awaited him, including meeting your family. Your presence was a reminder that he was not alone in this journey, and that thought brought him more comfort than any reassurance ever could.

With a deep breath, Spencer pulled himself up to sit beside you, the two of you leaning against each other as you shared the quiet morning together. The world outside might have been bustling with holiday cheer, but inside this little bubble, it was just the two of you, wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and understanding.

“Ready to start the day?” you asked, glancing over at him with a smile that made his heart flutter.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Spencer replied, feeling more confident than he had the night before. He was ready to embrace whatever the day had in store, knowing that he had you to guide him through it all.

And so, with a sense of excitement and a touch of nerves, Spencer prepared to meet your family, his heart full of hope and gratitude for the love that had brought him here.

—

As you turned onto your family's street, Spencer's fingers fidgeted nervously in his lap. The drive had been filled with light chatter and music from the radio, but now that you were only moments away from the meeting he had been anxiously anticipating, the familiar weight of worry began to settle back into his chest. He watched the rows of houses pass by, each one decorated with festive lights and wreaths that hinted at the warmth within.

When you pulled into the driveway of your childhood home, you noticed Spencer take a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the cozy-looking house adorned with strings of colorful Christmas lights. You could feel the slight tremor in his hand as you reached over to give it a reassuring squeeze.

Turning to him, you offered a soft smile, trying to ease his apprehension. "Spencer," you said gently, "are you sure you're ready for this? We can always take a few more minutes if you need to."

He met your gaze, the earnestness in your eyes helping to ground him. "I think so," he replied, though the edge of uncertainty in his voice was still present. "I mean, I've faced serial killers and the most dangerous criminals, but this... this is a different kind of pressure."

You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "I promise my family isn't as scary as a room full of unsubs."

He laughed softly, the sound easing some of the tension from his frame. "I know, but meeting the people who raised you... it's important. I just want to make a good impression."

"You will," you assured him, leaning over to brush a gentle kiss across his lips. "They'll love you just as much as I do. Besides, you've already made an amazing impression on me, and that's not an easy feat."

Spencer's smile widened, the warmth of your words settling comfortably around him. He took a moment to look at the house again, imagining the family inside who had shaped the person he cherished so deeply. The thought was daunting but also exciting in a way he hadn’t expected.

"Okay," he said with a renewed sense of determination, "let’s get inside."

"That's the spirit," you said, giving his hand one last squeeze before opening your door. Spencer followed suit, stepping out into the crisp morning air and taking in the sight of your family home, with its inviting front porch and the faint aroma of pine and cinnamon wafting from within.

Together, you made your way up the front steps, your fingers intertwined with his, a tangible reminder that he wasn't facing this moment alone. As you reached the door, you gave him a reassuring nod before ringing the bell, signaling the start of a holiday filled with new memories and possibilities.

The door swung open with a dramatic flair, revealing your sibling, Charlie, standing there with an expression of gleeful mischief painted across their face. "Y/N!" they exclaimed with a sing-song voice, their eyes gleaming with the thrill of having caught you red-handed. "I saw you kissing in the driveway!"

You sighed, rolling your eyes but unable to suppress a small smile at Charlie's antics. "Charlie! You had sex in Mom and Dad's bed! Are we even?"

Charlie feigned shock, clutching their chest with mock indignation. "Lips are sealed," they said with a smirk, clearly amused by the little exchange. Then, their gaze shifted past you to the man standing beside you. "Who is this beautiful man?"

You couldn't help but chuckle at Charlie's dramatic introduction to Spencer. "This is Doctor Spencer Reid," you said, gesturing to him with a flourish as if presenting a prize. "I found him on the corner. Only $20 an hour, can you believe that?"

Spencer, who had been standing there looking slightly bewildered by the sibling banter, let out a nervous laugh. He adjusted his glasses, clearly unsure how to respond to the unexpected introduction. "Well, technically, it’s a little more than that, considering inflation and all," he said with a small smile, his awkward charm instantly endearing.

Charlie burst out laughing, their eyes crinkling at the corners. "Oh, he's a keeper, Y/N! I mean, you found a guy who's both handsome and economically savvy? What more could you ask for?"

You and Spencer both laughed, the tension easing from the room as Charlie's infectious energy lightened the mood. It was moments like these that made you grateful for having such a lively and supportive sibling, someone who could turn any situation into a moment of joy and laughter.

As you walked deeper into the house, the familiar warmth and coziness enveloped you both. The comforting scent of home, mixed with the aroma of freshly baked cookies, filled the air. Spencer hesitated slightly as he stepped inside, taking in the comforting chaos of your family home, and the subtle charm that only a loving household could offer.

Charlie led the way, beckoning you both into the living room where the sound of a football game played on the TV. The announcer's voice carried through the house, mingling with the occasional cheer from the fans in the stadium. The room was filled with soft, golden light from the fireplace, casting a warm glow over everything.

As you rounded the corner, you found your mom and other sibling, Finley, lounging on the couch with a bowl of popcorn in their lap. Their attention was momentarily focused on the game, but they quickly looked up as you entered, a wide grin spreading across their face.

"Hey! Look who finally decided to show up!" Finley called out, putting the popcorn aside and standing up to greet you. They wrapped you in a quick hug, squeezing you tightly as if to make up for lost time. You could feel the warmth of their embrace, the familiar scent of home that always brought a sense of comfort and belonging.

"It's so good to see you, Fin," you said, pulling back slightly to look at them. "I've missed this place."

Finley grinned, giving you a playful nudge. "Well, it's about time you came back. We’ve got a lot to catch up on."

Then, Finley turned their attention to Spencer, their expression friendly and curious. "And you must be Spencer," they said, smiling with genuine enthusiasm. "I've heard a lot about you. All good things, I promise."

Spencer returned the smile, trying to channel his best impression of confidence. “It’s nice to meet you, Finley,” he replied, feeling a little more at ease thanks to Finley's welcoming demeanor. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you too.”

Finley chuckled, a twinkle of mischief in their eyes. “All good things, I hope,” they teased, shooting a knowing glance at you.

You rolled your eyes playfully, feeling the warmth of the familial atmosphere settle around you. “Mostly good,” you teased back, “but I might have left out the parts about your questionable taste in movies.”

Finley gasped in mock offense, clutching their chest dramatically. “Hey, my taste in movies is impeccable! It’s just...unique.”

Your mom, who had been quietly observing the exchange with a smile, finally chimed in. “Don’t mind Finley, Spencer. They love to exaggerate. We’re just really glad you could join us for the holidays.”

Her voice was warm and welcoming, instantly putting Spencer at ease. He nodded, grateful for the kindness being extended to him. “Thank you for having me, Mrs. L/N. It’s nice to be here.”

“Please, call me Sandy,” she insisted with a wave of her hand. “We’re all family here, after all.”

Spencer nodded, feeling a small weight lift from his shoulders. Your mother’s acceptance was a reassuring start, and he couldn’t help but feel grateful for how natural this all seemed.

As you settled into the living room, Coconut, your dog, padded over, sniffing curiously at the newcomer. The dog’s tail wagged enthusiastically, thumping against the floor with each swing.

Spencer knelt down to greet Coconut, his fingers gently scratching behind the dog’s ears. “Hello, Coconut,” he said softly, his touch unsure at first but growing more confident as Coconut leaned into him, clearly enjoying the attention.

You smiled, watching the interaction with a fondness that only grew as Coconut plopped down at Spencer’s feet, making himself comfortable. “I think Coconut likes you,” you observed, giving Spencer an encouraging nod. “That’s a pretty high honor.”

Spencer chuckled, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease further. “I suppose that’s a good sign,” he replied, continuing to pet the dog as Coconut rolled over, demanding belly rubs.

Your mom settled back onto the couch, a cup of coffee in hand, her attention shifting between the game and the scene unfolding before her. “So, Spencer, do you follow football?” she asked, glancing over with genuine interest.

“Not extensively,” Spencer admitted, “but I know a bit about it. The strategies can be quite fascinating.”

Your mom nodded, pleased with his response. “Finley here is the real football fanatic. They make sure we’re watching all the big games.”

“Guilty as charged,” Finley said with a grin, tossing a popcorn kernel into their mouth. “But don’t worry, we’re not too intense about it. It’s more about enjoying the day together.”

You reached over and gave Spencer’s hand a reassuring squeeze, sensing that he was beginning to relax. “We’re just happy to have you here, Spence. Family is about spending time together, not about impressing anyone.”

Spencer nodded, the warmth of your words resonating with him. As he settled back into the couch, he realized that this was exactly what he had always imagined a family gathering to be: relaxed, full of laughter, and surrounded by people who cared for one another.

As the game continued, you and Spencer joined in the lighthearted banter and conversations that filled the room. It wasn’t long before he found himself genuinely enjoying the company, the initial nerves giving way to a sense of belonging that he hadn’t anticipated.

With Coconut snuggled at his feet and your hand in his, Spencer began to see that maybe, just maybe, this Christmas would be as magical as the ones he’d read about in stories.

“Did I hear my favorite child is back?” your dad teased as he walked in from the kitchen, a towel slung over his shoulder and a warm smile on his face. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and holiday spices trailed behind him, adding to the cozy atmosphere of the room.

"Dad!" you exclaimed, jumping up from the couch and hurrying over to give him a hug. "I've missed you!"

He enveloped you in a bear hug, squeezing tightly before holding you at arm’s length to get a good look at you. “You look great, kiddo. I was just thinking that the house feels complete now that you’re here.”

You laughed, feeling the genuine warmth of your dad's words. “It’s good to be home. And look, I even brought a guest!” You stepped aside to gesture toward Spencer, who was now standing a little uncertainly, unsure of what kind of greeting to expect.

Your dad turned his attention to Spencer, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. “Ah, you must be Spencer,” he said, striding over to shake his hand. “We’ve heard a lot about you, son. Welcome to the family.”

Spencer’s nerves eased slightly at the friendliness in your dad’s tone. He returned the handshake with a grateful nod. “Thank you, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you. And thank you for having me.”

Your dad waved off the formalities with a chuckle. “None of that ‘sir’ business. You can call me Bruce.” He turned to the rest of the room, saying, “Now that everyone’s here, we can finally get this holiday started right!”

"Already trying to win the Best Dad Award, huh?" Finley quipped, tossing a playful grin his way.

Your dad shrugged, feigning innocence. "Well, I’m just trying to stay ahead in the rankings. Gotta keep you kids on your toes."

“Don’t worry, Dad,” you said, shooting Finley a teasing glance. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. You’ve always been my favorite.”

Spencer watched the exchange with a small smile, feeling a sense of warmth at the easy banter. The rapport you had with your family was evident, and it was a relief to see how effortlessly you slipped back into the rhythm of home.

As your dad settled into the armchair by the fireplace, he picked up a steaming mug of coffee from the side table, taking a satisfied sip. “So, Spencer, are you ready for the full holiday experience? We’ve got quite the lineup of activities planned.”

“Oh, um, yes. Looking forward to it,” Spencer replied, attempting to match your dad’s enthusiasm while simultaneously scanning his memory for any relevant data on traditional holiday festivities.

“Don’t worry, Spence. He’s teasing,” you assured him, a playful smile spreading across your face. “We don’t do too much. A quick present exchange, some of Dad’s famous cooking, and a lot of drinking.”

Spencer chuckled, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. “That sounds like something I can handle,” he said, relaxing further into the cozy atmosphere of the living room.

“Just be prepared,” Finley added, shooting your dad a mischievous grin. “Dad’s cooking is legendary. He’ll try to send you home with a week’s worth of leftovers if you’re not careful.”

Your dad feigned indignation, placing a hand over his heart. “Hey, I take pride in my culinary skills. Besides, isn’t that what the holidays are for? Making sure everyone leaves with full bellies and fond memories.”

“That, and making sure we all drink enough eggnog to last us till next year,” you teased, giving your dad a playful nudge.

Your dad chuckled, raising his mug in a mock toast. “To family traditions, then. May they never fade.”

Spencer smiled, feeling the warmth of your family’s love and joy seep into his bones. He realized that the dynamics in this household were vastly different from the ones he had grown up with, but in the best possible way. Here, there was a sense of ease and openness that made him feel welcome, despite being the newcomer.

—

You and Spencer walked back to the hotel room hand in hand, the crisp evening air wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. After a casual dinner with your family, filled with laughter and easy conversation around the football game, Spencer seemed more relaxed than he had been earlier in the day.

As you entered the room, you couldn't help but tease him, “So, how do you feel? Were they as scary as you thought?”

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head as he slipped off his shoes and hung up his coat. “Honestly? Not at all. I was so worried for nothing. Your family is wonderful. They were so welcoming, and it made me feel at ease.”

You smiled, feeling a sense of pride in your family's hospitality. “I told you they’d love you. But I understand why you were nervous; meeting a partner’s family is always a big step.”

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking thoughtful. “I think it was the idea of making a good impression. I just wanted everything to go smoothly, and it did. Your dad’s humor really helped break the ice. And Finley... well, I wasn’t expecting the football trivia quiz, but it was actually fun.”

You laughed, remembering the light-hearted trivia challenge Finley had orchestrated during halftime. “Finley does have a way of keeping things interesting. They were trying to see if you’d fit into our family banter, and it seems like you passed with flying colors.”

Spencer leaned back against the pillows, a content smile playing on his lips. “Your family dynamic is so different from what I’m used to, but in a really good way. There’s so much love and warmth in your home.”

You joined him on the bed, resting your head on his shoulder. “I’m really glad you’re here to experience it with us. I know it’s not easy to put yourself out there, but you did great. I couldn’t have asked for a better day.”

Spencer wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. “Thank you for inviting me. I’m happy I got to meet them, and it’s nice to be part of something so special. Plus, your dad’s cooking was definitely a highlight. I’m still thinking about those garlic mashed potatoes.”

You smiled, pleased to see how comfortable and at home he felt. “Dad does make a mean mashed potato. I’m glad you enjoyed it all.”

After a moment of silence, Spencer turned to look at you, his expression thoughtful. “You know, spending the day with your family made me realize something. I’ve always been a little afraid of getting too close to people, of letting them in. But being with you and your family... it feels different. It feels right.”

His words warmed your heart, and you met his gaze with a soft smile. “I’m glad to hear that, Spencer. You’re a part of my life now, and I want you to feel like you belong here, with us.”

Spencer nodded, feeling the sincerity in your words. “I do. And it’s because of you. You make everything feel less daunting, and I’m grateful for that.”

You leaned in to kiss him gently, feeling the connection between you deepen. “I’m grateful for you too, Spencer. This Christmas is already one of the best I’ve ever had, and it’s because you’re here.”

He returned the kiss, feeling a sense of peace and happiness that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Being with you, experiencing the warmth and love of your family, had opened his eyes to the possibilities of what life could be when shared with someone who truly cared.

As the night wore on, you and Spencer talked about everything and nothing, wrapped in the comfort of each other’s presence. The city outside was alive with the sounds of the holiday season, but inside the hotel room, it felt like time had slowed down, leaving just the two of you to savor the moment.

“Goodnight, Spencer. I love you,” you said softly, slipping under the covers and curling up beside him.

“Goodnight,” he replied, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. “Thank you for today.”

As sleep began to take hold, Spencer realized that he was no longer plagued by the anxieties that had haunted him the night before. Instead, he felt a deep sense of contentment and belonging, knowing that he was exactly where he was meant to be—with you.

—

The holidays had been a whirlwind of joy and laughter, each day unfolding with new experiences and moments of bonding that brought Spencer closer to your family. From playing with Coconut in the backyard to cozy evenings by the fire, the week had been a beautiful blend of warmth and happiness that Spencer had never quite experienced before.

On your last night at your family home, your dad approached Spencer with an unexpected invitation. "Hey, Spencer," he said with a friendly nod, "how about joining me for a drink on the back porch? It's a bit of a family tradition."

Spencer blinked in surprise, feeling both honored and slightly apprehensive. He had learned throughout the week that your dad was a man of deep wisdom and care, and being invited for a private conversation felt significant. As he followed your dad out to the back porch, Spencer couldn’t help but wonder if this was going to be the talk — the one where your dad would lay down the law about how he expected his daughter to be treated.

The night air was crisp and cool, stars twinkling overhead as Spencer and your dad settled into the comfortable chairs on the patio. Your dad handed Spencer a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light from the porch lamp.

"Thanks," Spencer said, taking the glass with a slight nod. He took a sip, feeling the warmth of the drink spread through him, doing little to ease the nerves bubbling in his stomach.

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, the quiet hum of the neighborhood providing a peaceful backdrop. Spencer braced himself, expecting the shovel talk that he’d often seen dramatized in movies.

Finally, your dad turned to him, a gentle smile on his face. “Spencer, I wanted to talk to you about something,” he began, his tone thoughtful yet reassuring.

Spencer looked over, curious and slightly terrified. “Oh?” he replied, unsure of what to expect.

Your dad chuckled softly, taking a sip from his glass. “I’ve seen how you are with Y/N these past few days. The love and care you have for her is plain as day. And I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate that.”

Spencer blinked, taken aback by the unexpected compliment. He felt his heart swell with emotion, a mixture of relief and gratitude washing over him.

“I know Y/N doesn’t need anyone to take care of her,” your dad continued, his voice steady and sincere. “She’s always been independent and strong, and I’ve never doubted her ability to stand on her own two feet. But it makes me happy to see that she has someone like you in her life—someone who clearly loves and respects her.”

Spencer was speechless, his mind racing to process the words. He had prepared himself for a stern lecture, but instead, he found himself enveloped in a warmth he hadn’t expected.

“Thank you,” Spencer finally managed to say, his voice thick with emotion. “That means a lot to me. More than I can express.”

Your dad nodded, his gaze steady and kind. “I know you didn’t have the best relationship with your own father,” he said, his tone gentle as he broached the sensitive subject. “But if you ever need someone to talk to, for advice or anything else, know that you can always come to me. You’re part of the family now.”

The offer left Spencer profoundly moved, a lump forming in his throat. He had never expected to find this kind of acceptance and support, especially from someone who barely knew him. The absence of a father figure in his life had always been a quiet ache, and here was an unexpected balm for that wound.

“I... I really appreciate that,” Spencer said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never had someone I could go to for that kind of support. It means more than I can say.”

Your dad reached over, giving Spencer’s shoulder a reassuring pat. “We’re glad to have you with us, Spencer. You make Y/N happy, and that’s all a parent can really ask for.”

Spencer nodded, feeling a sense of belonging that he hadn’t anticipated when he first arrived for the holidays. The conversation had taken a turn he hadn’t expected, filling him with a profound gratitude for the connection he was forming with your family.

They sat together for a while longer, exchanging stories and insights about life, relationships, and everything in between. As the evening deepened and the stars twinkled above, Spencer felt an overwhelming sense of peace and contentment.

Later, when he returned to the warmth of the house, he found you waiting in the living room, curiosity dancing in your eyes. “How was it?” you asked, a knowing smile tugging at your lips.

Spencer smiled, his heart full. “It was... wonderful,” he said simply. “Your dad is amazing. I feel really lucky to have met all of you.”

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. “I knew they’d love you, Spence. And I’m so glad you’re part of my life.”

He held you close, feeling the truth of your words settle deep in his heart. For the first time in a long while, he felt truly at home, surrounded by love and acceptance in a way that he hadn’t thought possible.

—

Later that night, Spencer found himself lying awake in the hotel room. The day's events played over and over in his mind, the words from your dad echoing with a resonance he hadn’t fully anticipated.

You were already asleep beside him, your breath slow and steady, a comforting rhythm that usually soothed his racing thoughts. But tonight, Spencer felt a wave of emotion rising within him, a tide of feelings that he could no longer keep at bay.

He had been holding it together all day, trying to process the overwhelming acceptance he had found in your family, the kind of love and support he had rarely experienced growing up. Now, in the quiet darkness of the room, the dam finally broke.

Silent tears began to slip down his cheeks, tears of joy mixed with a deep, profound sense of healing. For the first time, Spencer allowed himself to feel the full weight of what he had been missing all these years—the absence of a father figure who cared, the lack of a family who embraced him fully and unconditionally.

His younger self, the boy who had longed for approval and a sense of belonging, seemed to stir within him. Memories of lonely holidays and awkward family gatherings resurfaced, but they were now met with the warm, soothing balm of the acceptance he had found with your family.

The tears continued to flow, and though they were born from happiness, they carried the weight of years of unspoken pain. Spencer turned slightly, trying to muffle his sobs against the pillow, not wanting to wake you. But the tears wouldn’t stop, and soon, the quiet sounds of his crying filled the room.

You stirred beside him, sensing his distress even in your sleep. Blinking sleepily, you turned to him, concern immediately etching across your features as you registered the tears glistening in his eyes.

“Spencer?” you whispered, your voice gentle and soothing as you reached out to touch his arm. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

He shook his head, trying to find the words to explain the cascade of emotions washing over him. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m just... overwhelmed, I guess.”

You shifted closer, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a comforting embrace. “Hey, it’s okay,” you murmured, your voice soft and reassuring. “You don’t have to apologize. Just tell me what’s going on.”

Spencer took a shaky breath, trying to compose himself enough to explain. “It’s just... your dad, your family, everything,” he said, struggling to articulate the depth of his feelings. “I never expected to feel so accepted, so welcomed. It’s like... it’s like a part of me that’s been missing is finally starting to heal.”

Understanding dawned on you, and you held him tighter, your heart aching with empathy for the man you loved. “Oh, Spencer,” you whispered, feeling the weight of his words. “You deserve all of that and so much more. You’re part of our family now, and we love you for exactly who you are.”

He nodded, the tears flowing freely now as he allowed himself to fully embrace the reality of your words. The younger version of himself, the one who had always felt out of place, began to quiet, soothed by the knowledge that he was finally where he belonged.

As he held onto this newfound sense of peace, Spencer whispered something he hadn’t quite had the courage to say before. “I love you,” he murmured, the words slipping out like a gentle exhalation of truth.

You froze for a moment, not sure if you heard correctly. The quiet intensity in his voice seemed to linger in the air between you. “What was that?” you asked softly, wanting to be sure you had heard him right, a gentle smile starting to form on your lips.

Spencer met your eyes, his expression both tender and vulnerable. “I love you,” he repeated, a little louder this time, the conviction in his voice clear and unwavering. It was as though saying the words aloud had finally solidified them in his heart.

A warmth spread through you, a feeling of joy and completeness that you hadn’t realized you were longing for. You wrapped your arms around him tighter, your heart soaring at his heartfelt confession.

“I love you too, Spencer,” you replied, your voice filled with sincerity and happiness. “So much.”

He let out a breath he’d been holding, relief and joy mingling with the last traces of his tears. The weight of his past fears seemed to dissolve, leaving behind only the certainty of the moment and the bond you shared.

“I’ve wanted to tell you for so long,” Spencer admitted, his voice still a bit shaky from the emotional release. “But I was scared I wouldn’t be able to do it justice, to make you understand how much you mean to me.”

You reached up, gently cupping his face with your hand, your thumb brushing away the remnants of his tears. “You didn’t have to worry, Spencer. I’ve always known. Your actions speak louder than words, and I’ve felt your love in everything you do.”

He leaned into your touch, feeling a profound sense of gratitude and contentment. “You’ve changed my life in ways I never thought possible,” he said, his eyes locked onto yours with a sincerity that made your heart swell.

You smiled, feeling tears of your own threatening to spill over. “And you’ve changed mine,” you replied, your voice filled with emotion. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

Spencer let out a soft, shaky laugh, feeling lighter and more at peace than he had in years. He pulled you closer, reveling in the warmth and comfort of your embrace, knowing that this was where he was meant to be.

As the two of you lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you and the love that bound you. Spencer realized that he was no longer defined by the loneliness of his past but by the connection and happiness he had found with you.

In that moment, he knew that the future was bright, filled with endless possibilities and the promise of shared adventures. With you by his side, Spencer felt ready to face whatever came next, secure in the knowledge that he was loved and accepted for exactly who he was.

As the night deepened and sleep finally began to claim you both, Spencer held onto the truth of his feelings, knowing that he had finally found the home he had always been searching for—in you.

—

The next morning dawned crisp and bright, with the sky painted in shades of soft pastels. As you packed up your belongings and prepared to head back home, there was a bittersweet feeling in the air. The holiday had been a whirlwind of joy and connection, and neither you nor Spencer was quite ready to say goodbye to the warmth of your family.

As you made your way through the house, exchanging hugs and well-wishes, Spencer felt a familiar tug of anxiety mixed with gratitude. This time, however, the anxiety wasn’t accompanied by fear but by a deep appreciation for the acceptance he had found within your family.

When it came time to say goodbye to your dad, Spencer found himself standing on the front porch, the crisp winter air wrapping around him. Your dad approached with a warm smile, extending his hand for a farewell shake.

“It was great having you here, Spencer,” your dad said, his voice filled with genuine warmth. “You’re welcome back anytime.”

Spencer shook his hand, feeling the sincerity in your dad’s grip. “Thank you for everything, Bruce,” Spencer replied, his voice a little rough with emotion. “It’s been wonderful to be part of your family for the holidays.”

Your dad paused for a moment, then gave Spencer’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “you don’t have to call me Bruce anymore. Just call me Dad.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, a fresh wave of emotion washing over him. He felt the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, his heart swelling with a mixture of gratitude and love. This simple gesture, this offer of familial connection, meant more to him than he could express.

“I... thank you, Dad,” Spencer managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “Goodbye, Dad.”

Your dad gave him a nod, the look in his eyes filled with understanding and acceptance. “Take care of yourself, Spencer. And remember, if you ever need anything, I’m just a phone call away.”

Spencer nodded, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. “I will. Thank you.”

You watched the exchange with a full heart, knowing how much this meant to Spencer. As you wrapped up your goodbyes, you could see the mix of emotions playing across his face—the joy of being embraced by your family and the sadness of leaving it behind.

Once you were in the car, Spencer settled into the passenger seat, his mind still processing the weight of the morning’s farewell. He was quiet, lost in thought, and you could tell that he was holding back tears as he reflected on the kindness and acceptance he had been shown.

“Hey,” you said softly, reaching over to give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Are you okay?”

Spencer nodded, though his eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “Yeah, I just... I never expected any of this. It’s overwhelming, in a good way.”

You gave him a warm smile, understanding exactly what he meant. “Take your time. I’ll drive us to the airport.”

Spencer nodded gratefully, letting out a shaky breath as he tried to compose himself. You started the car and pulled out of the driveway, leaving the cozy warmth of your family home behind as you began the journey back to reality.

As you drove, Spencer gazed out the window, watching the landscape blur by. The silence in the car was comfortable, a space for him to gather his thoughts and emotions. He marveled at how much had changed in such a short time, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for the love and acceptance he had found.

He reached over, intertwining his fingers with yours, feeling the warmth of your touch grounding him. “I never knew I could feel so... at home. You’ve given me something I didn’t even know I was missing.”

As you both made your way through the airport, ready to embark on the next chapter of your journey together, Spencer knew that whatever lay ahead, he was no longer alone. He had you by his side, a family that embraced him, and a heart full of love that would guide him every step of the way.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

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waves-against-a-cliff · 2 days ago

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After the End - Post-Apocalypse Omegaverse AU

Summary - The final obstacles.

Tags - Omegaverse (duh), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, non traditional dynamics, all of the 141 are alphas, you're an omega. Eventual smut, dub-con, knotting, mating press, polyamory, alphas love alphas. 141 x reader, injuries, masturbation

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For the next two nights they dote on Gaz and Soap, the two most injured of their pack, despite their grumblings and huffs. Though Soap can’t hide his chuffs as well as Gaz can and he earns a cheeky wink from his fellow mask alpha. Of course sitting in enemy woods is less then ideal while getting cozy and romantic but that hardly stops Gaz from being sat in Price’s lap while he dotes on his fellow alpha.

“Price, really this isn’t necssary,” Gaz insists but Price shakes his head and pushes what’s left of his rations for the night to Gaz.

“Please Kyle?” He damn nears begs for his partnered alpha to take the last half of the portions.

“John-” Gaz sighs and gingerly takes the portions from Price. “You know you’re playing dirty with those puppy eyes,” he snips but Price smiles and gives Gaz a little nuzzle to which he chuckles from.

Soap meanwhile is completely passed out, leaning against Ghost with his head on his shoulder and his injured shoulder rebandaged and treated with some salve they had learned to make from a fellow group of survivors. Sometimes Gaz wonders if they made it or if they ended up zombie flesh. They were really kind people. The kind don’t often make it he thought blearily as his eyes began to droop before a familiar scent filled his nose.

He immediately perks up and sniffs the air a few more times before his head snaps to the north where the wind is blowing from. “Do you smell that John? Simon?” He asks and gets silent nods as Soap wakes from his slumber as well.

“Aye, I smell it too,” Johnny says and shares a look with Ghost. “We’re close.”

“That we are. What do you say men? Ready to get going tomorrow at sun rise?” Price asks and the three other men give their affirmations. “Tomorrow at sun rise it is.”

The sun rising the next morning never felt so refreshing. Gaz, though he hardly slept because he kept catching small whiffs of the scent on the wind just enough for him. Just for him, it felt like a sirens call. Come to me Kyle, the scent whispers and there’s an extra sweet tinge to it around the edges, that if Gaz is recalling correctly means one thing and one thing only.

Heat.

They traversed together, practically holding hands. Hell, Soap might’ve actually held hands with Ghost for a little while until Gaz started to look a little too closely. They were not going to be split up this time by different traps or scents. They followed Gaz who was the one who was leading them towards where their precious, if not sadistic, omega was. Several times they, mostly Soap, almost fell for another trap but was yanked back by a member of their pack.

They were silent otherwise, their boots crunching the snow beneath them and it made some of them wince. Well, it made Ghost wince as he thought about how important it might be to get the element of surprise on such a vicious omega. Ghost had never encountered an omega so vicious and territorial. Then again, he thought, I’ve never met an omega who’s been alone for years. Truly alone.

Ghost could vaguely recall how he had been once he had been picked up in Mexico after digging himself out of that grave. Violent, baring his teeth at anyone who came near and he had needed to be sedated by the end of it. An unpleasant experience overall. As they walk, he tries to relate that to the omega. Alone in the woods for years, maybe even years before the end of the world as they knew it. It had taken them a while to get this far up north after being stranded in the country side of France.

He did not want to think about that time.

Then as they pushed through a few bushes there it was. A log cabin, the chimney did not emit smoke. “Clever girl,” Price comments as he observes the state of the cabin. “Windows boarded up and I’m willing to bet there’s a bar or something preventing us from opening the door easily,” he says, mostly to himself before he turns to the rest of his pack.

You can hear them. Even though they tread quietly, underneath them you can hear every foot step after they finally opened the door. Certainly surprised to find it only locked. You wince as you think about having to replace that lock and venturing into town again. It’s such a long hike and you’ve been worn through the last few days.

The never ending anxiety and… well you’ve been trying to avoid the truth of it all. But it seems impossible at this point. And this on coming heat. The cotton stuffed into your nose only does so much and your inner omega whines and begs to take it out. To just breathe in their scents, that aroma that makes your head spin and heat go straight to your core.

Against your better judgement you do so. As if your hands aren’t your own, you take out the cotton stuffed up your nose and breathe in deeply. Their scents, this close, hits like a freight train. You cover your mouth right before a whine escapes and you rub your thighs together as an ache between them forms. You can’t possibily be quiet enough to eek another orgasm out, you’ve already had five in the last two hours. You keep waiting to hit a wall but it doesn’t come and the ache persists. Like an itch you cannot scratch yourself. Your omega purrs again at the thought of one of them. Or two. Hell maybe even three of them surviving the traps you have laid out for them in the cabin.

One last test, your omega purrs as you slide a hand between your legs as you lay in the nest you had built a day before. One last test and we can see who is fit to be our alpha. Or alphas.

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orangeblossomsintheair · 3 days ago

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LIONHEART (1/2) – LN4

summary : lando’s anxious journey as a dad-to-be

wc : 11k

an : this fic is kind of the antithesis of my whole “casual blog” thing but we close our eyes!! not beta read and quite a mess. it’s also longer so i hope that’s okay :>

Lando had always been confident.

On the track, in the spotlight, with a helmet on his head and a steering wheel in his hands. But when you told him you were pregnant, all of that certainty evaporated in an instant.

He just stood there in the middle of your kitchen, staring at you as if you’d just announced you were moving to Mars.

“You’re joking,” he said after a beat, his voice higher than usual, almost squeaky.

“Why would I joke about this?” you replied, holding up the positive test, your own emotions a mix of excitement and nervousness.

He blinked, his aquamarine eyes wide with disbelief, before breaking into a grin so wide it could’ve lit up the whole room. “I’m going to be a dad?”

“Yes, Lando,” you said, trying not to laugh at how genuinely dumbfounded he looked.

“A dad?” he repeated, as though saying it louder would make it sink in faster.

“Yes, Lando,” you said again, this time laughing outright.

He crossed the room in two strides, pulling you into his arms and lifting you off your feet.

He spun you around with an uncontainable excitement, his hoodie brushing against your cheek as he held you tight.

“This is insane,” he mumbled into your hair. “We’re going to be parents!”

“Careful,” you said, swatting at him lightly as he set you down. “You don’t want to shake the baby loose already.”

“Oh, right,” he said, letting go and stepping back. His head jerked up as he processed your words, looking alarmed. “Wait, is that a thing? Can I- are you okay? Are we okay? Is the baby okay?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Lando, I found out like an hour ago. I’m pretty sure we’re fine.”

He paced the kitchen, running a hand through his curls as his grin came and went in waves. “A baby. We’re having a baby. Oh my God. Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?”

“I don’t know yet, Lando,” you said, sitting down on the couch to watch him spiral. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

“What if it’s twins?” he gasped, spinning around to face you. “Oh, I should call my mum. No, wait, too soon. We need to come up with a plan first. Have you eaten today? You need to eat. Should we go to a doctor? Ooh, they need to be a really good doctor if they’re handling my wife and baby. Should I buy baby books? Do people still read books, or do we just Google everything now?”

“Lando,” you said firmly, grabbing his hand to pull him to a stop. “Breathe.”

He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, nodding. “Right. Breathing. I can do that.”

He knelt down in front of you, his hands resting gently on your knees. “Sorry, I’m just… this is the biggest thing we’ve ever done.”

You smiled, brushing a curl out of his face. “It is. But we’ve got this, Lando.”

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against your belly, even though it wasn’t showing yet. “Hi in there,” he murmured, his voice soft and filled with wonder. “I’m your dad. I can’t promise I’ll always know what I’m doing, but I promise I’m going to love you more than anything in the world.”

—-

Lando had always been a man of routine– wake up, train, meetings, practice, race, repeat.

But preparing to be a dad? That was a whole different kind of race.

“I need a list,” he muttered one evening, pacing the living room while you sat on the couch, trying not to laugh. “No, like, several lists. One for baby stuff, one for the hospital bag, one for- what else do we need? Is there a book about this? Should I read a book?”

“Lando,” you interrupted gently, “you’re spiraling again.”

“I’m not spiraling! I’m… planning,” he countered, though the way he was raking his hand through his curls said otherwise. “We have to be ready, love. What if the baby comes early? What if I’m away for a race?”

You set aside the baby name book you were half-heartedly skimming and grabbed his hand, pulling him to sit beside you. “We’ll figure it out, okay? You’re doing great.”

He groaned, slumping against the couch. “Am I, though? I can barely keep my plants alive. How am I supposed to keep a tiny human alive?”

“First of all, I’m the one who keeps your plants alive,” you teased, earning a weak laugh from him. “And second, you’re going to be an amazing dad. You care so much already. It’s sweet.”

“But what if I miss something important?” he said, turning to you with wide, anxious eyes. “Like the first kick, or the first cry, or- or- what if you need me and I’m halfway across the world?”

You reached up to smooth his curls, trying to ease his tension. “Lando, you’ve already done so much. The private suite, rearranging your travel schedule to be here for every appointment… You’re balancing everything perfectly.”

—-

The next weekend, Lando was halfway across the world for a race.

He had tried to keep his focus on the track, but his mind kept drifting back to you, sitting at home with your feet propped up, texting him updates about every little thing- what you were craving, how you were feeling, and whether the baby had started kicking.

During a rare free afternoon between practice sessions, he found himself wandering into a bookstore. He had no real plan, he just knew he wanted to learn everything there was to know about being a dad.

The parenting section was tucked in a quiet corner of the shop, and as he stood there surrounded by shelves filled with brightly colored covers promising to teach him how to raise a baby, the weight of it all started to settle in.

At first, Lando was focused, scanning the titles with a determined expression. “The New Dad’s Guide to Baby Basics,” “How to Survive Your Baby’s First Year,” “Sleep Training 101.”

He picked up a few books, flipping through them as if the answers to all his worries might jump out at him.

He grabbed his phone, quickly dialing you.

“Hey, love,” he said, his voice soft and warm. “Quick question- do you think the baby’s gonna like white noise machines? Because this one book says they’re a lifesaver, but another one says they’re not necessary. And then there’s this other chapter about swaddling- do you know how to swaddle? Because I don’t.”

You laughed softly on the other end of the line. “Lando, you’re overthinking again. We’ve got months to figure this all out.”

“I know,” he sighed, running a hand through his curls. “I just… I want to be good at this. I want to be ready.”

And then, as he stood there in the middle of the bookstore, holding a stack of baby books, it hit him.

He was going to be a dad.

The thought wasn’t new. It had been there since the day you told him you were pregnant. But standing there, picturing your little family and the tiny person who was going to look up to him, rely on him, need him… it was overwhelming in the best way.

“Lando?” you said gently, pulling him back to the moment. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, though his voice cracked a little. He cleared his throat, his free hand gripping the book tightly.

“I just-” He laughed nervously. “It’s a lot, you know? I mean, I’m going to be someone’s dad. That’s huge. What if I mess up? I’m practically a child!”

You smiled, wishing you could hug him through the phone. “You won’t mess up. You’re already doing amazing, and the baby’s not even here yet. You care so much, Lando. That’s what matters.”

He took a deep breath, letting your words sink in. “Thanks, love. I just… I want to do this right. For you. For them.”

“You will,” you reassured him. “And for the record, I think the baby’s going to love white noise machines and your ridiculous dad jokes.”

Lando chuckled, the tension in his chest easing slightly. “You think? Because I’ve already got a few saved up. Want to hear one?”

“No,” you teased, laughing. “Save them for when the baby’s old enough to groan at them.”

He grinned, his confidence slowly returning as he balanced the books in his arms. “Okay, okay. I’ll wait. But just so you know, they’re gold.”

After that call, Lando left the store with an armful of books and a heart that was a little fuller, a little steadier.

He still had moments of doubt, of wondering if he was truly ready for this massive change in his life.

But one thing he knew for sure- he couldn’t wait to meet the little person who was already changing his world.

—-

Even as Lando threw himself into preparation mode with the same energy he brought to a race weekend, scouring books and online articles about parenting, he still often got hilariously sidetracked by baby-related gadgets and gear.

“Did you know they make mini race suits for babies?” he asked one night, sprawled across the couch with his phone in hand, his eyes wide with excitement.

You glanced up from your own book, raising an eyebrow. “Lando, the baby’s not even born yet. Don’t you think it’s a little early for racing gear?”

“But imagine the photos!” he argued, sitting up and holding his phone out toward you like it was the discovery of the century.

On the screen was a tiny race suit in McLaren orange. “Our kid’s first photo: full McLaren merch. It’ll be iconic!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Iconic or not, I think diapers are going to be a bigger priority than race suits.”

“Why not both?” he shot back with a grin, already scrolling to find more baby-sized racing gear.

“Oh my god, look at this! miniature headphones for the paddock! Our baby could be sitting in the garage, looking like a proper little team member.”

“Lando,” you said, trying to sound serious but failing as a smile tugged at your lips, “our baby isn’t going to be born straight into a Formula 1 garage.”

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Blasphemy! Of course they are. It’s practically tradition.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help feeling touched by his enthusiasm. He wasn’t just excited; he was genuinely looking forward to every part of being a dad, even the ridiculous ones.

That wasn’t to say there weren’t more.. unwise moments even with non-racing related baby items.

Like the time he came home from a race weekend with three identical diaper bags.

“Lando,” you said, holding one up. “Why do we need three of these?”

“They’re different brands,” he explained, looking genuinely confused as to why you were asking. “What if one of them is better? Or has more pockets?”

“Pockets?”

“Yeah! Babies need a lot of stuff, right? I saw a mom at the airport with one of these, and she looked like she had her life together. I want you to have your life together too.”

You burst out laughing, and he groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Stop laughing! I’m trying to be prepared!”

“You’re overprepared,” you said, setting the bags down and walking over to wrap your arms around him. “But that’s why I love you.”

But it also wasn’t all fun and games.

Lando was determined to be as supportive as possible, especially when it came to your comfort. He took “protective husband” to a whole new level during your first trimester, hovering like an overzealous pit crew.

“Lando, I can still carry my own bag,” you told him one morning as he practically wrestled your tote out of your hands.

“Nope,” he said firmly, slinging it over his shoulder like it was his new personal mission. “You’re carrying our future world champion. I’ve got this.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s a tote bag, not a tire. I think I can manage.”

“Well, I’m not taking any chances,” he replied, puffing out his chest dramatically. “What kind of dad would I be if I let you strain yourself this early?”

“A sane one?” you teased.

He huffed, clutching the bag like it was a trophy. “I’ll ignore that slander. Now, where’s your water bottle? And your snacks? Have you eaten? Do you need to sit down?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Lando, I’m fine. You don’t need to act like I’m about to collapse any second.”

“Not on my watch,” he declared, marching ahead of you with your bag.

“Do you even know how many articles I’ve read about pregnancy? You’re supposed to avoid heavy lifting, stay hydrated, and-”

“-and avoid stress,” you interrupted, smirking. “Which you’re causing right now with all this hovering.”

“I’m helping,” he corrected, spinning around to face you with a determined look. “And besides, you’d thank me if you saw the kind of stuff I’ve been reading. Did you know some women crave chalk during pregnancy? Chalk! What if that happens to you? I need to be prepared!”

“Lando, I’m not craving chalk,” you said, trying not to laugh.

“Not yet,” he countered, narrowing his eyes like it was only a matter of time. “But when you do, I’ll be ready with… I don’t know, chalk alternatives or something.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing on your phone? Researching chalk alternatives?”

“Among other things,” he said with a shrug, completely serious.

“Did you know we might need a whole new mattress? Pregnant people need optimal support. And I saw this thing about belly bands. Do you want one? I can order it right now. Oh! And don’t even get me started on prenatal yoga-”

You reached out to grab his arm, laughing. “Okay, slow down, Mr. Norris. You’re going to give yourself a stress rash before we even get to the second trimester.”

He looked at you sheepishly, his determination softening into a shy smile. “I just… I want to do this right, you know? I’ve never done this before.”

You softened, cupping his cheek. “I know, love. And you’re doing amazing. But you don’t have to do everything perfectly. Just… be here. That’s all I need.”

His shoulders relaxed a little, and he leaned into your touch. “Okay,” he murmured.

Then, after a beat: “But I’m still carrying the bag.”

“Of course you are,” you said, shaking your head as he flashed you that trademark cheeky grin.

From then on, Lando took his role as your personal assistant very seriously. He stocked the fridge with all your favorite snacks, some of which you hadn’t even asked for.

“I saw this article about pickles and peanut butter,” he said one day, holding up a jar. “Do you think you’ll want to try it? Should I get bread?”

“You’re the one who’s going to end up eating it,” you teased.

And when it came to appointments, he was like a man on a mission. He set reminders, packed snacks for the waiting room, and even insisted on bringing a notebook to jot down questions.

“I don’t want to forget anything important,” he said, scribbling furiously while the doctor explained prenatal vitamins.

“You’re going to end up with a full-on pregnancy thesis,” you joked.

“Good,” he replied, deadpan.

“Because I need to know everything.”

He was equal parts adorable and exhausting, but one thing was clear: Lando was already the most devoted dad-to-be you could have asked for.

—-

Lando insisted on attending every single doctor’s appointment, even if it meant rearranging his training schedule or skipping a media event.

He didn’t care what he had to move around, he was going to be there.

Your husband had always been incredibly aware of his public image, and he knew his absence in a lot of McLaren PR videos was beginning to be noticed.

The whispers started subtly at first, just a few fans commenting on his social media posts, wondering why he wasn’t posting as frequently, why he wasn’t sharing his usual behind-the-scenes content.

But over time, it started to get louder. On Twitter, the rumors spread like wildfire.

Fans questioning his commitment to racing, accusing him of not showing up enough for the sport.

He couldn’t give a damn, to be honest.

“I don’t want to miss anything,” he told you one day as you both waited in the ultrasound room.

He was fidgeting with the strap of his McLaren cap, spinning it around in his hands like it was the only thing grounding him.

“What if they show us something important, like the baby’s heartbeat, and I’m not here? I’d never forgive myself.”

“You’ll see everything,” you assured him, lacing your fingers with his and giving his hand a squeeze. “I promise you won’t miss a thing.”

He exhaled deeply but didn’t stop fidgeting. “Do you think they’re okay? Like, really okay? What if the baby’s too small? What if-”

“Lando,” you interrupted gently, giving him a pointed look. “Breathe. Everything’s fine. You’re panicking for nothing.”

He let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry, I just... I’ve never been this nervous before. Not even before my first race.”

When the ultrasound tech finally entered the room and began the scan, Lando nearly jumped out of his seat.

He leaned forward, his eyes glued to the screen, his hand clutching yours like it was a lifeline.

“Alright,” the tech said with a kind smile, turning the screen toward you both. “Here’s your baby.”

Lando froze, his eyes wide as the faint image of your baby appeared on the monitor. “That’s… them?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“That’s them,” the tech confirmed, moving the wand slightly. “And if you look right here, you’ll see their heartbeat.”

She pointed to a tiny flicker on the screen, and Lando’s breath caught. “Is that… Is that their heart?”

“Yes,” she said warmly. “That’s your baby’s heartbeat.”

Lando’s eyes immediately welled up with tears. He blinked rapidly, clearly trying to keep them from falling, but one slipped down his cheek anyway.

“Oh my God,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “That’s them. That’s our baby.”

You reached up to wipe the tear from his cheek, your own eyes misty. “They’re perfect, aren’t they?”

“They are,” he said, his voice full of awe.

Then he turned to you with the biggest grin you’d ever seen, his face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. “They’ve already got your heart, don’t they?”

“And yours,” you added softly, squeezing his hand.

Lando laughed quietly, his free hand running through his hair. “This is insane. Like, actually insane. That’s a real human. Our human. I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” you replied, smiling at him. “Just feel it.”

He nodded, his gaze drifting back to the screen. “They’re so small,” he murmured, almost to himself. Then he let out a shaky laugh.

“God, I hope they get your patience. And your smarts. And maybe your taste in music too, because mine’s questionable at best.”

“They’ll be a little bit of both of us,” you said. “The good and the bad.”

“And hopefully less of the bad,” he joked, his smile growing wider. “Although if they’re anything like me, they’ll probably be a little naughty regardless.”

He spent a few moments just staring in silent awe of the ultrasound before leaning over and pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?”

You nodded, resting your head against his shoulder. “More than okay, Lando. We’re going to be great.”

For the rest of the appointment, Lando couldn’t stop staring at the monitor.

He asked the tech at least three times if he could get extra printouts of the ultrasound, and as soon as you left the room, he was texting the photo to his parents.

“You won’t believe this,” he said excitedly as he hit send. “They’re already perfect. I mean, look at them!”

You laughed, shaking your head at his enthusiasm. “You’re going to be insufferable, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” he replied with a grin, slipping the ultrasound photo into his wallet like it was his most prized possession.

—-

Lando stood in the kitchen, pacing around the table with the cake in front of him.

His hands were a blur, adjusting every little decoration as if this one cake would determine the future of the entire Norris family.

He wiped his brow for what felt like the tenth time, clearly worked up.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” Lando asked again, his voice laced with nerves, as he fiddled with the tiny blue and pink ribbons on top of the cake.

You raised an eyebrow, watching him with a grin. “Lando, it’s just cake. I don’t need a fireworks show or a parade. Just let me eat it. We’re finding out if we’re having a mini-me or mini-you today, not the cure for world hunger.”

He looked at you, eyes wide with mock concern. “I know! But this is important, okay? This cake isn’t just cake. It’s the cake that’s gonna reveal if our baby’s gonna have my style or your... I don’t know, your taste in TV shows.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, so my TV shows are the problem now? I seem to remember you binge-watching those ridiculous reality shows last week.”

Lando chuckled, adjusting the cake for the third time. “Fine. But I will not apologize for the occasional guilty pleasure, okay?”

Before you could fire back, there was a knock at the door, and Lando’s parents stormed in, as excited as ever, clearly eager to be part of the big reveal.

His mom was practically jumping up and down, already holding a bottle of champagne in one hand.

“Alright, alright, we ready for this?!” she practically shouted, already bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Lando, you didn’t mess up the cake, did you?”

Lando puffed out his chest, trying to seem cool, but you could tell he was as jittery as a kid before Christmas. “What do you think? I’m a pro. I’ve got this under control.”

His dad leaned in and clapped him on the back with a knowing look. “Sure, sure. It’s just cake, son. Don’t overthink it.”

“Easy for you to say!” Lando replied, rolling his eyes but clearly taking comfort in his dad’s easy confidence.

“Do I need to set up a tent or something for you? I can go grab the calm-down snacks,” his mom teased, already rifling through the bags of baby gifts she had brought with her.

Lando gave her a playful glare. “I’m fine, Mom. I’m just...you know, a little excited.”

He turned back to the cake, brushing his hands against his jeans as if trying to shake off his nerves. “Right. Big moment.”

You crossed your arms, trying to stifle your laughter at the drama of it all. “You know, you’re acting like you’re about to drive the final lap of a Grand Prix, not slice a cake, right?”

Lando shot you a look, half guilty, half defensive. “What do you mean? This is important, okay?”

“Yeah, because the world is watching,” you quipped, leaning against the counter with a grin.

“Absolutely! What if the cake doesn’t come out perfectly? What if it’s not the right color? What if-”

“Lando,” you interrupted with a chuckle, “I’m pretty sure it’ll be okay if it’s not perfect. It’s just a cake.”

He sighed dramatically. “You don’t get it. This is a moment. A huge one! I can’t mess this up.”

(Lando’s parents exchanged amused glances. “He’s got it bad, huh?” his dad whispered to his mom.

“Oh, you don’t even know,” she replied with a wink.)

“You’re really sure you’re not panicking?” you teased, nudging him, raising an eyebrow.

Lando flashed you a grin. “Nope. I’ve totally got it handled. This is the most important moment of our lives, and I’m... handling it.”

The room filled up with laughter and chatter as family and friends settled into their spots, everyone eager to be a part of the big moment.

The cake, a simple vanilla sponge with soft pastel decorations, sat in front of you all like a ticking clock. Lando’s hands hovered above it, shaking slightly as he gripped the knife.

You placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Lando, it’s going to be fine.”

He gave you a nervous smile. “Yeah, I know. I’m just- just a little excited.”

He cut the first slice carefully, holding his breath. His eyes darted between the cake and you, trying to gauge the moment, the color, the reaction.

“Is it-” Lando’s mom leaned forward, eager and almost bouncing in her seat. “Is it blue or pink?”

When Lando saw the blue filling spill out from the cake, it was like a switch flipped inside him.

His hands trembled for a moment, and then, without warning, his lips curled into a grin so wide it could have lit up the whole room.

He threw his arms up in the air, as if he’d just crossed the finish line, his chest puffing out like he’d just clinched a Grand Prix victory.

“YES!” he yelled, his voice carrying the excitement and relief of a race win. He even did a little fist pump, completely caught up in the moment, forgetting the cake still had to be served.

His family burst into laughter, but Lando didn't care. He was riding high on the adrenaline of the moment, his face flushed with joy. He turned to you, eyes wide and sparkling, as if the world had just handed him the greatest trophy imaginable.

“I’ve got a son! A SON! I’m gonna be a dad to a little boy!” he exclaimed, his voice rising in a playful tone, as if he was addressing a crowd at a podium.

“Lando, you’re not actually racing a Grand Prix right now,” you said, your laughter shaking your voice. “You don’t need to act like you just won Monaco!”

Lando paused for a split second, still grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Oh, but I am! This is my Monaco moment!”

—-

Before your son arrived, the two of you spent countless hours brainstorming names, debating, and laughing at your ideas, the excitement of becoming parents finally hitting both of you.

You sat on the couch in the private suite, your legs curled up underneath you as you flicked through baby name books.

Lando, sprawled beside you with his laptop open, occasionally paused to glance at you, a goofy grin on his face.

“You know what would be funny?” Lando said, his eyes lighting up. “If we named him after a race track. Like, Monaco or Spa.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused but skeptical. “Monaco? Really? We’re naming our kid after a place?”

Lando shrugged with a playful grin. “It’s iconic. Imagine saying, ‘This is my son, Spa Norris.’ Sounds like he’s destined to be a Formula 1 champion, right?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Yeah, that’s not going to fly. I’m not going to name our son after a race track, Lando.”

He pouted, pretending to be disappointed. “You’re no fun. I thought you’d be into it.”

You shot him a playful look. “Well, if you’re going to go that route, we might as well name him something like 'Aston' or 'Ferrari'.”

Lando dramatically gasped. “Ferrari Norris?” he echoed, as if he’d just had an epiphany. “That actually sounds pretty cool.” He immediately began typing it into his phone. “Imagine the headlines: ‘Little Ferrari Norris shows up at the karting track, stealing the show already.’”

You chuckled, giving him a teasing nudge. “Okay, okay. Let’s put a pin in that one, but seriously, we need something that isn’t a car or a race track. We need to think long-term. He’s not going to be five years old forever.”

Lando sat back, tapping his fingers on the side of his laptop, deep in thought. “How about Maximus? It sounds strong, right?”

You gave him a flat look. “You realize that would just end up as Max, and then we’d have to deal with every comparison to Verstappen and Max, right?”

Lando’s eyes widened slightly as you pointed out the potential issue. He paused, tapping his fingers on the laptop as he processed your words.

“Oh, right,” he said slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Maximus could be a disaster. Imagine our kid being called Max every time. He’ll spend his whole life being compared to Verstappen, and Max.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, not ideal. We’re already in the spotlight enough with you and everything, we don’t need to add fuel to the fire.”

Lando groaned, slouching slightly in his chair. “Okay, so no Maximus. What about... Thor? Sounds strong, right? A god or something.”

You blinked, trying to keep a straight face. “Lando, we're naming our kid, not preparing him for a Marvel movie.”

“I’m just saying,” he grinned, holding his hands up in mock defense. “Thor Norris. Sounds pretty cool, right? Imagine him on the playground.”

“Yeah, until he gets bullied for being named after a thunder god,” you replied with a teasing smile. “We want a name that’s strong, but also, you know, normal.”

Lando sighed dramatically, rubbing his temples. “Why is this so hard? This is supposed to be the fun part!”

“Because you're overthinking it,” you said, leaning over to ruffle his hair. “We don't need to make him sound like a superhero. We need something that suits him, something that feels right.”

Lando scrolled through a few more names on his phone. “What about Leo? You know, like the lion?”

You looked over at him, a thoughtful expression crossing your face. “Leo.. huh, I kind of like that.”

Lando met your gaze, his smile softening. “I do too. It feels strong. But it’s also… warm. I can imagine him growing up with that name.”

You smiled, already picturing your son, little Leo, chasing after you both in a go-kart, or laughing as he wore his tiny McLaren onesie.

“I think that’s the one,” you said softly, your heart warming at the thought of it.

Lando nodded, his voice quieter now. “Leo Norris. Yeah… I like it.”

You both sat there for a while, soaking in the reality that soon, you’d have a little one to love and raise.

A mix of excitement and nervous energy filled the air. But above it all, you both felt the quiet, comforting certainty that you’d chosen the right name.

“Leo Norris,” Lando repeated, his grin returning. “You’re going to be so cool, little guy.”

—-

By the time the baby’s due date was right around the corner, Lando had practically perfected the art of juggling his high-pressure career with impending fatherhood.

He FaceTimed you every chance he got during race weekends, even if it was just for a few minutes, to check in and ask how you and the baby were doing.

Every call was an opportunity for him to make silly faces at your growing belly, as if your unborn child could already understand what he was doing.

“How’s my little team doing today?” Lando asked, his face beaming from the screen, grinning like a kid with a secret.

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, ‘little team’? It’s still just one person, you know.”

He paused, holding his hands up as though giving you a game plan. “It’s all about the future, babe. Right now, it’s just me and you, but soon, we’re gonna have our first real team member. And I’m gonna be the best team principal there ever was.” He winked, clearly enjoying the idea.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Uh-huh. Sure. First, you have to figure out how to change a diaper before you’re giving out performance reviews.”

Lando's grin faded slightly, and his expression became more serious. “I can change a tire under pressure, but... a diaper? You’re sure I’m gonna be okay with that?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You’ve changed car tires with a stopwatch ticking down. A diaper is like... one percent of the stress.”

Lando scratched his head, clearly still not totally convinced. “Yeah, but there’s a lot more wiggle with a baby than with a tire.”

You chuckled, hearing the nerves in his voice despite his usual cocky demeanor. “I’m sure you’ll manage. You’re gonna be a great dad. Besides, how bad can it be? Worst-case scenario, we just put him in a McLaren onesie and call it a day.”

Lando’s eyes lit up. “Wait, does McLaren make baby clothes?” he asked, suddenly distracted, pulling out his phone.

You sighed, trying not to laugh. “Focus, Lando, the baby comes first, not McLaren merch.”

But he didn’t hear you.

He was too busy scrolling through his phone, searching for baby-sized McLaren gear. “Just imagine! Tiny little race suits! Our kid’s first proper race suit! It’ll be legendary*”

You smirked. “Right, because that’s all a baby needs, to be decked out in McLaren gear. A future world champion and fashion icon.”

Lando nodded seriously, still scrolling. “Exactly. The sooner they start looking the part, the sooner they’ll feel the pressure to deliver.”

You shook your head, your lips curving into a smile. “You’re definitely going to spoil this kid rotten.”

“I’m just preparing them for greatness!” Lando declared, his voice mock-serious. “Besides, they’re going to have someone to look up to.”

You laughed, a soft teasing tone in your voice. “You mean you? The guy who keeps asking me if he’ll be cool enough for a toddler?”

Lando looked at you, eyebrows furrowing with mock panic. “I just want them to think I’m cool, okay? What if they’re disappointed? What if they grow up to think I’m just some guy who drives a car really fast and wears too many McLaren hats?”

You snorted, not even trying to hide your amusement. “Lando, you drive a Formula 1 car for a living. I think you’ll manage to impress a toddler.”

“Yeah, well, toddlers are tough critics,” he muttered, flopping back onto his bed. “What if they want a cooler dad? Like, what if they see some famous soccer player or something and think he’s way cooler than their dad?”

“Lando, the kid isn’t even born yet, and you’re already stressing about being the coolest parent?” You shook your head, trying to hold back laughter. “Relax. You’re gonna be the coolest dad, hands down.”

“You really think so?” Lando asked, his tone suddenly turning sincere, a soft smile curling his lips.

“Absolutely,” you replied, your voice full of confidence. “You’re gonna be amazing. And anyway, when they get older, they'll think you're the coolest just because you drive an F1 car. That’s literally a dream job for kids.”

Lando smiled at you through the screen, clearly reassured. “Alright, alright. I can live with that.” He paused for a moment, his

“I’m gonna train them up. Baby steps, right? First, it’s McLaren onesies. Then, they’ll be driving go-karts by five.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “I think you’ve got a few years before that happens, buddy.”

—-

Lando had been pacing the living room for what felt like hours, his hands in his hair and his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

You watched him from the couch, amused by how obviously he was working up the courage to say something.

Finally, unable to take his fidgeting any longer, you set your book down and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Alright, spill it,” you said, crossing your arms.

He stopped pacing, turning to you with a sheepish grin. “Okay, don’t get mad, but… can I tell Carlos?”

You blinked at him, confused. “Tell Carlos what?”

“The baby!” Lando blurted, throwing his hands in the air. “I swear I won’t say anything to anyone else, but I feel like I’m going to burst if I don’t tell someone. And Carlos, he’s my best mate in the paddock, you know? and I feel like I’m going to burst if I don’t tell someone. He’s good at keeping secrets! Remember when I told him about… well, you know…”

You smirked. “The time you accidentally spilled coffee all over Zak’s favorite race notes and blamed the wind?”

Lando groaned, running a hand through his curls. “Yes, that! He didn’t tell anyone!”

He leaned in closer, his big, pleading eyes locking onto yours. “Please, love. I need someone to talk to about this in the paddock. I promise it’ll stay between me and him. And you, of course. You’re the boss.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, shaking your head with a smile.

“But adorable?” he pressed, grinning mischievously.

You laughed, shaking your head at his antics. “Alright, alright. You can tell Carlos. But only Carlos. If I see headlines about ‘Baby Norris’ next week, I’m blaming you.”

Lando let out a victorious whoop, throwing his arms around you and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You won’t regret this, I promise! I’ll handle it perfectly.”

“Uh-huh,” you teased. “Just don’t come crying to me if he accidentally tells the entire grid.”

“He won’t!” Lando assured you, already pulling out his phone. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a Spaniard to swear into secrecy.”

—-

Lando, despite his enthusiasm around friends and family, had always been the type to keep his personal life as far away from the media as possible, especially when it came to you and your pregnancy.

He’d pulled you aside earlier on, his brow furrowed in a mix of excitement and concern.

“I just want to protect you from all that stress, love,” he’d said softly, his hands resting on your shoulders. “The media’s only gonna make everything harder. Let’s keep it to ourselves and family and friends until we’re ready.”

You’d agreed, knowing his intention was to shield you from any unnecessary pressure.

So, you kept things under wraps, avoiding public appearances and letting Lando handle the media while you focused on your health and well-being.

But as your pregnancy progressed and your bump started to show, it became harder to stay out of the public eye.

At first, you’d manage to sneak in a few appearances, sitting in the background, away from the cameras. But soon, you started pulling back even more, skipping races altogether. The tabloids, however, didn’t miss a beat.

Lando was pacing back and forth in your living room, muttering to himself as he read through the latest batch of articles about him and your supposed divorce.

You could practically see the frustration building in him. He was giving off full-on whiny vibes, and you couldn't help but smirk at how ridiculous the whole thing seemed.

“I swear, they’ve completely lost their minds!” Lando groaned, throwing his phone down onto the couch with a dramatic flair. “What do they mean we’re getting divorced? Have they seen you? Why would I ever, ever, let you go?”

You leaned back on the couch, trying to keep your composure as he began pacing again. “Lando, calm down. It’s just the media. They love making stuff up.”

“No, it’s not just the media!” he whined, stopping mid-pacing to stare at you. “This is serious! They think I’m out here with a divorce like that’s even a thing. I’m happily married! You’re at home growing our kid, not plotting some dramatic breakup!”

You tried to hold back your laugh, but Lando’s whining was getting funnier by the second. “Babe, seriously, it’s not the end of the world. You’re acting like the tabloids are going to come for us with pitchforks.”

“I’m just-” He paused, running his hands through his hair like he was about to pull it out.

“I’m just trying to figure out how they got this idea. I’m not... like, I’m not perfect, but come on! Look at you! You’re gorgeous, and we’re over here living our best life, why would I ever let you go?”

You grinned, giving him a teasing side-eye. “Aww, are you saying I’m too good for you?”

Lando froze, turning to you with wide eyes. “No! I mean, yes, but no!” He huffed dramatically, flopping down onto the couch next to you. “You’re perfect! You’re the perfect wife! And you’re the one who makes everything better, and now they’re out here saying I’m getting divorced? No! That’s not how this works!”

You reached over, resting your hand on his, trying to hold back your own laughter. “Lando, babe, it’s just rumors. People are bored. They don’t know anything, and they’re making stuff up. Just ignore it.”

He looked at you like you’d just suggested the impossible.

“Ignore it? How am I supposed to ignore this? They’re making me look like the worst husband in the world! Divorce? I’ve been married for, like, what, five minutes? And now I’m already getting a bad rep? This is ridiculous!”

You snorted, finally giving in to the humor of the situation. “Okay, okay, so how are you planning to fix it? Go out there and shout from the rooftops?”

Lando sighed heavily, clearly still upset. “I don’t know! Maybe I should just do an entire press conference. ‘Hello, everyone, just in case there was any doubt, I’m not divorced! I’m happily married! And I’m going home to my gorgeous wife and our baby, who will totally not grow up to be a Formula 1 driver, I promise.’”

You couldn’t stop laughing now. “Babe, just post a picture of us and say ‘Still happily married’ that’ll do the trick.”

Lando groaned in frustration. “But why do I have to do that? Why can’t people just know? It’s like they’ve forgotten what happiness looks like. They’re just out here making up stories!”

You patted his leg, smiling fondly at him. “You’re cute when you get worked up, you know that?”

He shot you a look. “I’m serious! This is outrageous. I swear, if I see one more headline about our ‘divorce,’ I’m gonna lose it.”

“Alright, alright,” you said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Calm down. It’s just noise. We know what’s real.”

Lando pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not a fan of this noise. It’s too much, and I just want to be left alone to focus on being an amazing husband and father. Is that too much to ask?”

You smiled, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “No, love. It’s not too much to ask. But maybe, just maybe, try to ignore the headlines for once?”

He sighed dramatically. “Fine. I’ll try. But if they start talking about me again... I’m calling a press conference.”

—-

Lando had just finished a grueling race, his face flushed with exertion but still carrying that unmistakable grin.

He was on cloud nine, but he could already sense the usual flood of media around him. It was never just about the race with him, it was always about something else, something personal.

As he was making his way to the interview zone, one journalist, eager to get the scoop, stepped in front of him with a grin.

“Lando, congratulations on the win! How’s everything going with your wife? We’ve heard a lot of speculation recently, some rumors flying around about your relationship. Can you clear that up for us?”

Lando froze mid-step, his brow furrowing. The questions about his relationship with you had been relentless recently, but this, this was the last straw.

The media had taken their guesses and spun them into wild stories. He had kept quiet for as long as possible, but today, something inside him snapped.

“Rumors?” Lando repeated, voice low but filled with frustration.

He glanced over at his PR team, who were silently freaking out in the background, and then he turned back to the reporter, a small, sarcastic smirk pulling at his lips. “Yeah, here’s the thing.”

He paused, taking a deep breath. His hands were shaking from the adrenaline of the race, but his eyes were laser-focused on the reporter.

“Here’s the thing,” Lando said again, this time louder, looking directly into the camera, “I’m going to give a shout-out to my beautiful wife right now, and to hell with everyone else. To all the tabloids, the rumors, and the people making things up… fuck you. I love my wife. She’s amazing. We’re happy. Now, can we get back to the racing?”

Lando’s eyes burned with a mixture of frustration and determination as he stood there, refusing to back down.

The crowd of reporters and cameras around him seemed to freeze for a moment, unsure of how to react to his sudden outburst.

“Seriously,” he continued, his voice steadier now, but still tinged with that raw intensity, “I’ve kept quiet for as long as I can. I get it, you want the drama, you want the headlines.”

He glanced around at the sea of microphones pointed at him, his gaze intense. The silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the hum of distant chatter.

“But I’m here to race,” he added, his jaw clenched. “So, let me make it clear. My wife and I are doing great. I’m not hiding anything from anyone. The only thing I’m focused on is the fact that I just finished on a podium position, and that's what matters.”

For a moment, he allowed himself to breathe, his chest still rising and falling from the aftershocks of the race and the adrenaline of the moment.

The reporter, still holding the microphone, looked almost shocked by Lando’s outburst, but before they could get another word in, Lando raised his hand, cutting them off.

“I’ve had enough,” he said firmly. “So here’s the deal. To everyone who wants to keep spreading rumors or digging into our lives. Don’t. And to my wife, if you’re watching this, I love you. You’re incredible.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and then, with a final glance at the camera, Lando broke into a grin.

“And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a celebration to get to. See you at the next race.”

With that, he turned, walking away from the reporters, leaving them dumbfounded and speechless. His PR team scrambled behind him, clearly trying to catch up and figure out how to spin this into something less... explosive, but Lando wasn’t having it.

He was done with the noise, done with the rumors. And if the media wanted a story, they could have that one because he wasn’t hiding his love for you, and he wasn’t going to let anyone tell a different story.

Back in the paddock, as he made his way toward the celebration, he pulled out his phone, sending you a quick text: “Hey, I may have just lost my cool on live TV but don’t worry, it was for you. Love you always 🧡”

As soon as the text sent, Lando couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

—-

When you saw the text pop up on your phone, you blinked at it for a moment, reading it over a few times to make sure you weren’t misinterpreting things.

You didn’t have a chance to misinterpret anything when you were bombarded by videos of Lando’s recent stunt by your friends and family.

You froze.

The sheer audacity of him, of his love for you, left you speechless for a moment.

Of course, Lando had always been passionate, always been the kind of person who wasn’t afraid to stand up for what mattered to him. But this?

This was a whole other level. You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, a combination of shock and amusement.

You immediately hit the video call button, your heart racing.

When his face appeared on the screen, he was still beaming with that grin he wore after a good race, sweaty, glowing, and impossibly handsome.

But then, his eyes widened when he saw the expression on your face.

“What?” he asked, still out of breath from the race, his grin fading a little. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You couldn’t help yourself. “Lando Norris,” you began, trying to keep your voice steady, “did you just… tell everyone to fuck off on live TV?!”

His eyes grew comically wide, and he immediately slapped a hand to his forehead, groaning dramatically as if he was ashamed of his actions. “I swear I didn’t mean to-”

“Oh, you didn’t mean to?!” you interrupted, laughing uncontrollably, clutching your stomach from how hard you were giggling. “Lando, that was literally a full-on ‘fuck you’ to the media! And you said it was for me?!”

He flushed, sheepish but still trying to hide his growing smile. “Look, okay, I was just- uh- tired of the rumors, alright? And when they asked about you- about us- I just kind of... lost it. I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to make sure they all knew how much I love you. How happy we are.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you said, still laughing, wiping a tear from your eye. “You’re really doing a great job of showing that. It was the most Lando Norris thing you could’ve done!”

Lando leaned back against the wall, clearly embarrassed but still that familiar, playful Lando you knew and loved. “I didn’t think it’d go that far,” he muttered, but then his grin returned. “But you know what? Fuck it. They can say what they want.”

You let out a breath, finally calming down, though you were still grinning. “You are such a dork,” you said, shaking your head with affection. “But I love you for it. Seriously. I never thought I’d be watching you on TV yelling at the media like that.”

He puffed out his chest, doing a little dramatic bow. “What can I say? I’m just a man in love.”

“I’m starting to think you’re also a man who has no filter,” you teased, leaning in closer to the screen. “But I can’t deny, it’s kind of… hot.”

Lando’s cheeks flushed at that, and he let out a chuckle. “Oh, now you’re really making me blush. I can’t believe I just did that...”

“You definitely made a statement,” you said, the smile still playing on your lips. “The whole world now knows you’re not just a great driver- you're a very passionate husband, apparently. Also, good luck with your PR team after that one.”

“Oh, they’re probably freaking out right now,” Lando said with a knowing grin. “But hey, at least I got to make things clear.”

You paused for a moment, letting his words settle. “You know what, Lando? I really appreciate it. I know the media can be overwhelming, and I’m glad you’re doing what you can to protect us, even if it means embarrassing yourself a little. But just... maybe next time? You could, I don’t know, use a little less profanity?”

“Right,” he said, nodding seriously. “Next time, I’ll scream it in sign language. Less dramatic, more subtle.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart swelled with affection. “You’re impossible.”

“I know,” he grinned. “But I’m your impossible.”

—-

When the end of the racing season finally rolled around, Lando could hardly contain his excitement.

The grueling months of races, travel, and endless media commitments were finally over, and he was about to have a few weeks of uninterrupted time with you and the baby.

The weight of the season had been heavy, and now that it was over, he felt like he could breathe again, and it felt amazing.

For weeks leading up to the last race, Lando had been counting down the days.

The moment he heard the announcement that the season was officially over, his excitement bubbled over. He was practically buzzing with anticipation, his usual calm and collected persona giving way to a wide, ear-to-ear grin.

It was as if the pressure of racing and all the responsibilities had just melted away, and he was ready to dive straight into a new kind of excitement, one that involved a lot more time at home with you.

You were sitting on the couch, relaxing after your own busy day, scrolling through your phone, when you heard the familiar sound of

Lando’s boots hitting the floor. He was almost running, and his footsteps were light and fast, as if he couldn’t wait to see you.

“Babe!” he shouted, throwing his bag down with abandon, his voice practically singing with happiness.

Without a second thought, he rushed over to where you were sitting, scooping you up into his arms like you weighed nothing at all. He spun you around once, a burst of laughter escaping his lips.

“I’m home, I’m home, I’m home!” he repeated, his grin so wide it almost seemed to stretch across his face.

You couldn’t help but laugh as his excitement flooded the room, feeling the warmth of his embrace. "Well, I can tell you’re happy about the season being over," you teased, giving him a playful look as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I’m more than happy,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with joy. “I’m ecstatic. Finally, a break. No planes, no races, no media, just me, you, and... well, you know, our little one,” he added, glancing down at your belly with a soft smile.

“Sounds perfect,” you said, feeling the love in his words. “I think we both deserve a break.”

Lando nodded enthusiastically. “I can’t wait to just be home with you. I’ve missed so much of this year, and now I get to make up for it. I’ve got so many plans. We can do all the things we’ve been talking about, prepare the nursery, take walks together, have breakfast in bed, watch terrible movies... you know, all the usual relaxing stuff.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused by his enthusiasm. “Breakfast in bed every day, huh? That’s a bold claim.”

“I’m up for the challenge,” he grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. “I’m making the most of this time. No more rushing around, no more stress. Just time with you, our little one, and whatever chaos we manage to create together.”

He flopped down onto the couch beside you, pulling you in closer. His hand found its way to your growing belly, and he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as he gently placed his hand there. “I’m so ready for this next chapter, you know? I know the last few months have been crazy, but this... this is going to be perfect.”

—-

Lando stood in the middle of the nearly-finished nursery, hands on his hips, looking ridiculously proud of himself. The room was stunning.

Soft, neutral tones, sleek furniture that didn’t scream “baby” but still felt warm and inviting, and subtle touches of personality like a tiny McLaren-themed mobile hanging above the crib.

“You know,” he said, turning to you with a grin, “I think I’ve outdone myself. Custom everything. No IKEA in sight. You’re welcome.”

You raised an eyebrow from where you were sitting on the plush nursery chair he’d insisted be upholstered with "only the softest fabric money can buy."

“You do realize you’ve spent more on this room than most people spend on their entire house, right?”

He shot you a mock-offended look. “Excuse me for wanting the best for our baby. It’s called quality assurance.”

He scoffed, gesturing at the solid oak crib. “This bad boy? Handmade by some guy in Sweden who’s apparently a genius with wood. And the changing table? Designed by an actual ergonomist! No sore backs for us.”

You tried to keep a straight face but couldn’t help laughing. “Lando, it’s a baby. They’re not going to care if their crib is custom-made or from IKEA. They’ll drool on it all the same.”

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Excuse me! Our baby deserves the best! The absolute best. I’m not about to put our kid in some flimsy crib where one tantrum could bring it down.”

“Pretty sure you’re the only one throwing tantrums right now,” you teased.

He ignored you, walking over to the rocking chair and giving it an experimental sway. “This chair, by the way? Perfect for late-night story time. I tested at least twenty before I found the one.”

“You sat in twenty rocking chairs?”

“Of course,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “What if I’d chosen one that squeaked or wasn’t comfy enough for cuddles? I’m thinking ahead, love.”

“Thinking ahead is spending three months’ salary on a nursery?”

“Investment,” he corrected, plopping down beside you with a satisfied sigh.

“And it’s not just the furniture. Look at the details. That mobile? Custom order. The wallpaper? Hand-painted by some artist in Italy. Even the shelves are organized by height so the books will be easier to grab when the baby’s older. I’m not messing around.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “It’s beautiful, Lando. Really. You’ve done an amazing job.”

“Of course I have,” he said smugly, leaning back. But after a moment, his expression softened. “I just… I want everything to be perfect, you know? For them. For you. I want this room to feel safe and special and like… like a little haven.”

Your heart melted as you reached out to take his hand. “It already does, babe. It’s perfect because you made it with love.”

“Also with a ridiculous amount of money,” he added, flashing you a cheeky grin.

You laughed. “That, too.”

Lando leaned down to kiss your forehead, his voice full of affection. “Anything for you two. Now, all that’s left is to teach the baby to say ‘McLaren’ before anything else.”

You laughed, pulling back to give him a playful shove. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Fine,” he said with a wink. “Second word, then.”

—-

When the day finally came, Lando was fresh off a meeting with his team, when your water broke in the middle of your living room.

“Now?” he yelped, nearly dropping the cup of tea he’d just handed you. His wide, panicked eyes darted between you and the puddle forming at your feet. “It’s happening now?”

“Yes, Lando, now!” you snapped, clutching your belly as another contraction hit.

He spun in circles for a moment, muttering to himself, “Keys, keys, where did I- oh, my God, this is happening.”

“Lando!” you barked, cutting through his panic.

“Yes, yes! Okay! Keys! Bag! You!” He grabbed the hospital bag you’d packed weeks ago, slung it over one shoulder, then hesitated. “Wait, do you need me to carry you? Should I-”

“Just get me to the car!”

In record time, he managed to get you into the passenger seat, though not without fumbling with your seatbelt for what felt like an eternity.

“I race cars for a living,” he muttered to himself, hands trembling as he buckled you in. “Why is this harder than a pit stop?”

“Because a pit stop doesn’t scream at you every five minutes,” you shot back, gripping the door handle as another contraction rippled through your body.

---

At the hospital, Lando was a walking ball of nerves. He practically burst into the maternity ward, announcing to the nurses, “My wife’s having a baby! Right now! Like, right now!”

One of the nurses calmly guided you to a room, giving Lando a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “First-time dad?” she asked with a knowing smile.

“Is it that obvious?” he mumbled, following behind like a lost puppy.

Inside the delivery room, Lando couldn’t sit still. He paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair. “Are they supposed to take this long? Shouldn’t someone check on her again? Is she okay? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Lando,” you groaned through clenched teeth. “But if you don’t stop pacing, I might strangle you before this baby gets here.”

He froze mid-step, holding his hands up in surrender. “Right. No pacing. Got it. I’ll just... stand here.”

Once he could actually think past his panic, Lando immediately whipped out his phone, his fingers fumbling over the screen as he dialed his parents. The phone barely rang once before his mom answered.

“Lando? Everything okay?” her voice was calm but laced with concern, likely from the sheer urgency of his call.

“Mum! She’s in labor!” Lando practically shouted into the phone, his words tumbling out at record speed. “Like, actual labor. Right now. We’re at the hospital. It’s happening!”

“Oh, Lando, that’s wonderful!” his mom exclaimed, her tone immediately switching to excitement. “How is she? How are you?”

“She’s... well, she’s in labor!” Lando replied, running a hand through his already tousled curls. “I think she’s fine, but I don’t know! She might be mad at me for pacing too much. I stopped though. Well, sort of. Anyway, can you and Dad get here? Like, now?”

“We’re on our way, love,” she reassured him with a laugh.

By the time his parents arrived, just minutes later, Lando’s initial excitement had given way to full-blown panic. He was sitting in the corner of the room, staring at his hands, muttering under his breath.

“Do you think the baby will like me? What if they don’t like me? What if I’m a terrible dad? Oh my God, I forgot to pack snacks! What kind of dad forgets snacks?”

His parents stepped into the room, his mom taking one look at him and immediately placing a hand on his shoulder. “Lando, breathe,” she said gently, her eyes crinkling with amusement.

He jumped up at their arrival, waving his hands around. “I can’t breathe, Mum! Do you know how much responsibility this is? I’m going to be someone’s dad! What if I drop the baby? What if I don’t hold them right? Or they cry every time they see me? I-”

His dad cut him off with a firm but comforting hand on his back. “You’re going to be fine, son. You’ve got this.”

Lando looked over at you, lying on the hospital bed, still managing to roll your eyes at his dramatics despite the situation. “Does she think I’ve got this?” he asked, gesturing to you.

You groaned, partly from the contraction and partly from his antics. “Lando, if you don’t stop spiraling, I’ll personally make sure you get kicked out of this delivery room.”

His mom laughed, stepping closer to you. “She’s got it under control, doesn’t she?”

“She always does,” Lando muttered, his wide eyes darting between you and the monitors. “But what if I’m not ready, Mum?” he whispered, leaning closer to his mother as if it were a secret.

His mom reached up, brushing a curl from his forehead. “You’ll be ready when you see your baby for the first time, Lando. Trust me. You’ve already proven you’ll do whatever it takes to be a great dad. Now stop worrying and be there for your wife.”

Lando nodded, taking a deep breath and straightening up. Then he turned to you with newfound determination. “Okay. What do you need, love? Water? Ice chips? A—”

“A calm husband,” you interrupted, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Right,” he said, nodding rapidly. “Calm husband. Got it.”

And for the next two minutes, he actually managed to stay calm. Until the nurse walked in and said, “Alright, it’s time to push.”

Then all bets were off.

---

When your son (your son!) finally arrived after hours of labor, the world seemed to pause. Lando stood frozen as one of the nurses handed him the tiny, swaddled baby. His hands shook as he cradled Leo against his chest, staring down at him in awe.

His aquamarine eyes were wide as he stared down at the newborn. “Wow,” he whispered, his voice shaky. “He’s... so small. Like, really small. Are we sure he’s okay?”

“Lando, he’s a baby,” you said, exasperated but smiling, the exhaustion hitting you in waves. “They’re supposed to be small.”

“Yeah, but this small?” he asked, carefully holding Leo as if he were made of glass. He glanced at the nurse for reassurance. “Is this normal? What if I break him?”

The nurse chuckled. “You won’t, Mr. Norris. Just make sure to support his head, and you’ll be fine.”

“Support his head,” Lando repeated, adjusting his grip like he was handling the most fragile trophy in the world. Then he looked down at your son again, a mixture of awe and terror on his face. “Hey, little guy,” he murmured. “It’s, uh... it’s me. Your dad. I’m new at this, so, uh, go easy on me, yeah?”

You laughed softly, despite the ache in your body. “He’s not going to grade you, Lando.”

“Good, because I’m already giving myself a D+,” he muttered, carefully sitting beside you on the hospital bed.

Lando looked up at you, his eyes glassy. “You did so good,” he said softly. “So, so good. Thank you for... for him.”

As the tiny bundle in his arm let out a tiny whimper, Lando instinctively rocked him, whispering, “Shh, mate, it’s okay. Daddy’s got you.”

“You’re a natural,” the nurse commented, smiling as she adjusted your blankets.

“Really?” Lando glanced up, his grin sheepish but full of pride. “Because I feel like I’m one wrong move away from dropping him.”

“You won’t,” you reassured him, reaching out to touch his arm. “You’re already amazing.”

He smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “You’re the amazing one. I mean, you just made a person. How insane is that?”

As he sat beside you, still holding him as if he were the most precious thing in the world.

You rested your head against his shoulder, watching as he studied every tiny feature of Leo’s face. “He’s got my eyes,” he murmured, awed.

“And your gap-toothed smile too, probably,” you teased.

He chuckled, brushing a fingertip gently over Leo’s tiny hand. “That’s not a bad thing. He’ll be unstoppable. Just wait until he sees his first go-kart.”

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blackbirdsblackberries · 2 days ago

Text

I Hate The New Hero!

Pt 8: The Trapeze Artist's Fall

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4 - Pt 5 - Pt 6 - Pt 7 - Pt 8 (You're here) - Pt 9 - Pt 10

It was his second week of school for him. In no way was he excited. Gotham was a fresh start for the young boy, private school was meant to be a fun experience - many would kill to be able to get premium education - but he finds he misses the countryside hills that he'd watch pass by as his mamă taught him how to spell and read. He misses his tată teaching him math and cool sciencey things.

He misses his family.

The school wasn't the problem, though he found he was falling behind in learning due to his homeschooled life beforehand. The problem was his classmates, the ridicule he'd get for simple slip-ups. It wasn't his fault English is his second language, it isn't his fault he slips-up.

Last Friday one boy in the class, Mac Doust, had put gum in his hair. Dick ended up crying in the bathroom until Alfred came to pick him up - not Bruce, no, Bruce was as unavailable as Dick's dead parents honestly.

Gripping the straps of his backpack Dick mutters under his breath, trying to assure himself he'd be okay. The whole weekend he had practiced hiding his accent so kids would think he was normal.

Upon walking into the school he held his head high and didn't mess around, he headed straight to class.

...

That's strange, why was the door only opened partly? Ms Xavier keeps the door wide open, always greeting Dick with a wide smile and some Romanian she had put in the effort of learning for him.

Dick opens the door hesitantly, peeking inside.

He only gets to see Mac's stupid grin before water is dumped on him, the metal bucket clanging on his head harshly.

He doesn't know what to do, he stands there, the bucket on his head as the sounds of giggles and cackles fill his ears. Warm tears contrast with the cold water soaking his face.

Dick went home early that day. The incident struck a chord in him. If he wanted to stop the bullying he had to become better than them, put in the work and effort.

He will be popular, he will be better.

He will never do that cruel prank to anyone. Never

Looking down at his phone as he walks he feels nothing but a cringing sort of pain. He stooped to a level he never thought he'd get to. It was disgusting really.

Dick feels like he's no better than Mac. That he's no hero. The video plays on loop as the man takes in the pained look on your face, he can't bring himself to look at the messages in the group chat.

They're most likely supporting it, congratulating him for doing what they all wished to do.

Hell, if he was in their place he'd probably be celebrating it too. But to be there, to be the reason you reacted that way, is sickening for the young male.

Even now all he can think about is himself, how he feels. God, how self-centered could he be? It's not like he was the victim in this.. But still, surely he can't be the true bad guy in this, right?

Dick had decided against getting driven home, he felt that if he walked to the manor in the rain it'd be enough to be even with you - look, we both ended up soaked! Everything's better now!

He chuckles under his breath at his thoughts - what would Aranea even think of him?

She'd probably be angry at him for his actions but comfort him, telling him the things he needed to hear. That it wasn't his fault, that Y/N was a bad person who deserved it.

Whatever words needed so he could sleep at night really..

Dick finally decides to exit the looping video, the image of you burnt into his mind forever.

He goes into his messages and pulls up Aranea's comm number - he had put it into his phone so they could talk off shift, something she was hesitant about but ultimately caved in.

He types out a simple message. Then another. Then another.

"Heyyyy!!! Are you busy rn??"

"It'd be cool to hang out and patrol together!!"

"Bruce doesn't have to know"

He stares at the messages, waiting for them to be marked as read. 1 minute turned into 5, then 5 turned into 10. Dick sighs and exits out of the message log, clearly Aranea is busy.

He gazes on the chat log "Y/N. 🤮"

Maybe he should message her? Say sorry and try to make it up to her.. Yeah, that's what Aranea would say to do! She was always about communication.

"I know you're probably upset, I get that. I'm super sorry for what I did|

"I know you're probably upset, I get that. I'm|

"I know you're|

"What I did wasn't right. I'm sorry that I did that because you had a different opinion than me. I never meant to make you cry, only angry, I promise!"

Finally happy with the message he sends it off.

Only to remember the wonderful fact that your phone is fried due to the water.

Lucky him. He sighs, fed up with this bad luck streak he's been having.

Suddenly he remembers that he has money! More than you can even imagine!

He can buy a new, amazing phone to make things even. Yes, it's perfect. Surely you'll forgive him now!

He changes course and heads to the nearest electronic store, determined to make things right in his head. The purchase was swift and quick, the best phone he could find in the place.

Now, all he had to do was go to your apartment and give it to you!

Lucky him Tim leaked your address to everyone in the family as soon as he entered your apartment. So, with a high head he makes the slightly anxiety-inducing journey to you.

Knocking on the door of the apartment Dick stands straight as a board. The door opens and on the other side is a woman, she has severe eye bags and (H/C) hair. She seemed to have just gotten back from work. Her grey, lifeless eyes peer at him with suspicion before realizing who he was and smiling brightly.

"Mr Grayson! What a pleasure, is there anything you need?" She asks, Dick internally cringes, there was something about her voice that just grated against his ears.

There was just something so... Off... About her.

Still, he does what he usually does. He smiles and remains patient.

"Hello ma'am, is your daughter available? Something had happened and well.." Dick trails off, he doesn't want to get on Y/N's mother's bad side.

Her mother's eyes seem to cloud over at the mention of an incident, yet her smile remains in tact, if not strained. It's possible you told her already..

"Oh. An incident? What has she done, Mr Grayson?" Her mother asks, dark undertones coat her otherwise curious words. Dick furrows his brows slightly at the sudden change in the woman's mood. "Ah, well, it was my fault. I had played a nasty prank on her and her phone was ruined, I bought a new one to make it up to her!" He shows the brand new phone in it's box.

The woman doesn't look impressed, still, she smiles and hums. "Hm. Well that's lovely! Would you like to come inside? She isn't home currently but I'm sure she'll be home soon."

Something in Dick tells him not to go inside. Something was wrong. Yet, he reminds himself that he is a hero, if anything happens he will be prepared.

So, he heads inside, trailing behind the woman as he takes in the dungeon-like interior. "It's a... Lovely place, ma'am" Dick says, hoping to seem polite. The woman scoffs.

"M/N, my name is M/N. No need for such formalities!" The woman hurriedly states before flicking her hand dismissively "Y/N's room is the second door. You can wait there, or, if you want, you can hang around me!" She smiles sweetly, too sweetly, disgustingly sweetly. It reminds him of eating giant spoons of brown sugar.

He smiles politely, trying not to show his discomfort. "I'll just wait in her room for her..!" He hurries to Y/N's room, shutting the door once he's in. That woman gave him the creeps.

He looks around the small room, holy shit, no wonder you're always so pissy! He'd be pissy too if his room was just a bit bigger than a school storage closet!

The man knows he shouldn't snoop, he's done enough damage. But, maybe, if the guilt doesn't settle he can use information gathered here to help!

Dick makes his way to the chest and looks around, picking up an engineering bit, he isn't too into the whole mechanical side of things so there was no name he could pin it to.

Placing it back he moves to sit on the bed and wait. As he sits on the bed his eyes are drawn to a floorboard that seems to stand out from the rest. He kneels on the floor and digs his nails into the floorboard.

He starts to lift it up when..

RINGGGG

His phone goes off, he scrambles to answer the call, not checking who the caller was.

"Dick? Dick, okay, you're the only one that has answered!"

It was Duke, he sounds frantic. What happened..?

"Duke? What's going on? Is everything okay?"

"No, no, something bad's happened! Steph, Cass and I were at a cafe and Y/N and her friends were there as well but some waitress had messed up the orders and Y/N had an allergic reaction - or something like that!" Duke rambles, his words slurring together in a rush.

Dick's eyes widen and he feels the air leave his lungs, forgetting about the floorboard and quickly leaving the room. He'll put the new phone on your bed for when you return.

He brushes past M/N and leaves the apartment. Holy shit your luck was bad, he couldn't help but think.

"Okay, stay calm, are you guys at Gotham City Private Hospital or Gotham City Public Hospital?"

"Private."

"I'll be there in half an hour, it'll be okay."

With that he hangs up and runs out of the apartment complex.

Like hell was he about to let anything bad happen to you before he could make things right!

Taglist:

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witherby · 2 days ago

Note

Could you make more Damian and mer!Reader? I wanna see them swim together!

Yeah, I can do that! The previous post surpassed 10 reblogs so y'all can have another installment :)

Part 2 of Human!Damian x Mer!Reader

Content: Fluff, Swimming, Language Barrier, Courtship Ritual (unbeknownst to Damian)

Part 1 is Here!

You swim in fast spirals through your enclosure, ducking around seaweed and colorful rocks and the fake castle spire they installed for you to hide in, tail brushing against the rough, stony texture. The lights all dimmed about thirty minutes ago, leaving just the bioluminescent foliage scattered throughout your tank and a few, small overhead lamps to illuminate the space. You know that this means all the Attention Time is done for the day, and that Damian will soon be around for dinner and playtime.

When you feel those familiar disturbances in the water, the gentle swish, swish, swish of your favorite caretaker's hand, you bolt towards it and surface with a splash and a chirp. Damian wipes the water off his face and levels you with an unamused look, which you preen at, and you rest your arms on the lip of the tank.

"Hello to you, too," he greets, holding up your bucket. "It's dinner time. You did great today, as though we could expect anything less than perfection at this point."

You take the bucket and start eating, offering a piece of squid to Damian. He scrunches his nose and politely refuses, so you shove it between your own, razor-sharp teeth instead.

"Visitors asked a lot of questions about you today," Damian says. You register the general idea of what he's talking about — the "visitors" are the creatures that come to stare at you in the funny tunnels. "Two of the tour groups asked if you were lonely, being the only mer we have in the aquarium."

The boy tilts his head, vibrant green eyes unusually pensive as he regards you. You stare back as you chew, the fins on either side of your head twitching. You love staring at his eyes, more vibrant than any foliage in your tank and endlessly entertaining to look at. When he speaks again, you do your best to keep following along.

"I didn't know how to answer them. Mers, from what few we've observed in the wild, travel in pods. You don't exhibit behaviors of loneliness or excessive stress, however; I don't think living here without pod-mates is causing you harm, otherwise we'd see you picking at your fins and scales, or lashing out more violently, or at the very least hiding more often."

You smile. How silly of your caretaker — he is your pod! You socialize with him plenty, even if he can't live in your enclosure with you! You click your tongue and trill, showing him your empty bucket to get the frown off his face.

Damian takes it back with a quick word of praise and dodges your grabby hands when you make to pull him into the water.

"Patience. Let me change into the wetsuit, okay, Princess?"

You perk up and chirrup with glee. You know that word! He's going to come into the tank and play!

Damian disappears through a set of doors several yards away from the edge of your tank. You slip under the water to rehydrate your gills, floating aimlessly for a few minutes. When you surface again, Damian is standing on the edge of your tank in a black wetsuit with a small apparatus on his face. After an accident (and it was an accident, you promise! How were you supposed to know the land creatures couldn't breathe water the same way you did?) where you almost drowned Damian trying to play with him, he showed up a few days later with the suit and small face-thing that you learned was important not to pull off of him.

You whistle and trill, arms extended in delight. Damian's eyes crinkle just slightly around the edges, as he can't smile around the rebreather, and he lets his body tip forward into your waiting arms.

You splash into the water together, squeezing him in a tight hug, then draw back to grab his hand and pull him along. Damian allows it, kicking the flippers on his feet to help propel him along, though they're no match for your huge tail.

Playtime always starts with you dragging Damian to the bottom of your tank, either to show him the latest way you've arranged your collection of colorful rocks, or to find a gift for him. Sometimes you give him a rock, sometimes you give him a piece of foliage, and once you gave him a loose brick taken from your castle spire (he put that one back).

Today, you release his hand to dart into your seaweed nest, pawing around until you find what you're looking for, then pop back out and press it into his hands. Damian's eyes go wide, clutching the small handful of shredded scales you passed over with the delicateness one would use to cradle a baby.

Mers tended to have hoarding tendencies, especially for shiny things. Your myriad of painted stones and other aquatic-safe decorations were proof of that. In the wild, shedded scales were kept and used as further decoration for a nest, or placed around the entrance of their home so it could be easily identifiable. To see you hand him what is typically considered a valuable resource to your species...

Well, he's nothing short of flattered. You must care for him a great deal to be willing to part with your scales.

He signs Thank You under the water and carefully tucks the gift into a bag on his hip, since the wetsuit has no pockets. You grin back and twirl around him, bumping him a bit with your tail. Damian can just barely make out the sound of you trilling under the water as you bump him back and forth a couple times, a behavior you've never exhibited before. He bumps you back, which makes you trill even louder. It's fascinating.

When you're done, you circle Damian a few times, chittering and chirping, then gently shove his shoulders and take off like a bullet through the water, off to find a space to tuck yourself into for hide and seek. You can't play tag with him, it's never fair, but other games like this are easily adaptable between the two of you, especially given that your enclosure spans several floors of the building.

As you dart across your expansive tank looking for a place to slip into, you can't fight the giddy little skip in your heart. Damian accepted your scales! He accepted them and thanked you! You're so happy he accepted your proposal to be mated!

-----

Thanks for your support! Reblogs = more content!

#damian wayne x reader #batfam #damian wayne #mermaid au #batfam x reader

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miniwheat77 · 3 days ago

Text

Co-Star. (Ghost x Reader.)

!NSFW, Smut, cheating, unprotected p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), sex coaching, proceed with caution, NO MINORS!

Merry early Christmas, please enjoy this pure filth! Love you guys <3

Unedited*

You smile sympathetically as you push his hips back. “I’m sorry Johnny, it’s not you.” You mumble. “I can keep going, doesn’t matter if I’ve… finished.” He mumbles. “No, it’s okay. I’m too sensitive.” You laugh. “You want me to try anything else?”

“No- no it’s okay.”

That’s usually how it went when the two of you were intimate. It didn’t matter how long Johnny lasted or what he changed, it never seemed to be enough. No matter what he did. He was frustrated with himself for not being able to get you there.

When he arrived home, he saw Ghost sitting on their shared couch. He was watching a show. Johnny knew about his reputation with women. He sighs.

“Something the matter Johnny?”

“No. Well… yeah.” He mumbles. He walks into the room completely and sits down. Ghost pauses the show. “What’s going on?”

“It’s awkward.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… every time Y/N and I-“ he pauses. “Are intimate, I can’t satisfy her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Literally nothing I do will get her there.”

Ghost goes quiet for a second, crossing his leg over the other. “You rub her clit when you fuck her?” He asks, tipping his beer bottle back and taking a swig. “Christ… uh. Yeah. Yeah I’ve tried everything.”

“I mean I can go down the line but it’s not hands on so it won’t stick.” He shrugs.

An idea suddenly comes to Johnny’s mind. “If I ask her and she’s into it… you think you can show me?”

Ghost immediately feels the pit forming in his lower stomach, arousal.

“You mean you want me to fuck her?”

“To show me how to.. make her cum. Yeah I guess so.”

“Nothing weird though, right?” Ghost narrows his eyes. Johnny looks at him. Ghost stands up, stretching. “Obviously. I guess I’ll talk to her. Thank you Ghost.”

“Course Johnny.”

Ghost has to go take a shower and relieve himself. The thought of being inside you after being teased by you multiple times a week is overwhelming him.

A couple days later when Johnny is at your house again, he’s unsure how to bring it up to you. He wants his step brother to fuck you so that he can take notes and then MAYBE he’ll be able to make you cum? It sounds crazy to him even, how he’s supposed to get you to agree is beyond him.

“Johnny, you okay?” You pause the movie. He’s been acting weird all night.

“Uh.. yeah.” He mumbles. “You sure? You’ve been acting funny all night.” You sigh. You sit up on the couch, you’d been laying with your legs draped across him. “I.. I was talking to Ghost about… how I can’t satisfy you.” Your eyes widen. “Johnny!”

“I know I know. It’s not your thing to tell others about our sex life but I just want to be able to make you cum.” He laughs. “But I have a really weird request.” You look at him awkward. “He agreed to help me. Because obviously I’m not going to learn just by what he says.” You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?” You ask.

He chews on his lip nervously. “I mean.. if you’re okay with it. He’s going to show me how to please you. Hands on.”

“What do you mean Johnny? How is he supposed to show you anything hands on without touching m-“ you cut yourself off, eyes going wide. “Woah! Woah. No way. No fucking way Johnny.” You stand up. “Look.. I know it’s a lot to ask. I know.”

“Of course it’s a lot to ask, you’re asking me to have sex with another guy! Your step brother of all people. Christ Johnny.” You sigh. “Look. It’s just once. Just once so that I’ll be able to make you cum every time we have sex. Just once Y/N.” You close your eyes. “One time for the rest of our lives together.” He smiles. “I’ll think about it Johnny.” You mumble. “Okay. Awesome.” He smiles.

So you do. For a few days you think about what he wants you to do.

Have sex with someone else.

Sleeping with Ghost was definitely not on your mind. You liked him of course, you got along well and shared a few of the same hobbies with him. But you were okay just being his sister-in-law someday.

Having sex with Johnny once was enough to convince you. It was so bad and you had no idea why.

So the very next morning you approached him about it.

———

“Are you sure about this?” You ask him. He’s just pulled into the driveway of his shared house with Ghost. He laughs, clearly seeing how nervous you’ve gotten. “Are YOU sure about this?” He smiles. You sigh.

“I guess so.” You mumble. You follow Johnny into the house and see Ghost sitting on the couch. He finishes off his beer and stands up, turning the TV off.

You cross your arms with a sigh as the three of you stand there staring at each other. “This is as awkward as it’s going to get, let’s get this over with.” You turn your back and head into Johnny’s room.

You start tugging your clothes off. Jacket and shoes coming first, Johnny and Ghost watch until you’re in your bra and jeans. “Alright. You two get started I’ll be back in like… 10 minutes to see what you’re doing wrong.” Ghost mumbles, heading into his bedroom just down the hall. The wall is shared and he rests up against it like he has before, listening to you. You sound so pretty.

But you don’t sound nearly as good as you could. He wants to hear you when you cum.

He listens for a while. He finally has enough, going in. Knocking at the door before he just walks right in. “Anything feel different?” He asks. You chew at your lip, shaking your head. Johnny sighs.

“Alright. I didn’t even need to see it to know you’re really bad at this, Johnny.” He snorts. Johnny rolls his eyes. “Move away, I’ll show you.” Johnny stands up, sliding himself back into his jeans. Ghost moves toward you, your nerves are completely shot as he throws the blanket off of you, revealing you to him completely. You’re nervous. He’s very blunt in his movements.

He wipes his lips with his sleeve, trying to distract himself from you. He grasps two pillows, sliding one under your head. “Raise your hips up.” He nods, helping raise your hips as he slides it under you. “It’ll help raise her pelvis so that you can go deeper.” He glances at Johnny. He nods his head. “Got it.. just. Do your thing.” He mumbles.

Ghost reaches for his waistband. You swallow hard, making eye contact with Johnny. You’re clearly very nervous. “S’alright, no need to be nervous. Just try to relax.” Ghost has exposed himself to you. He’s moved himself between your legs. “When people say that bullshit on TV about foreplay it’s true. It’s easier to cum the more turned on you are.” He mumbles, sliding into you. Your eyes widen, clutching at the sheets. He fills you up to the hilt, cock deeper than you’ve ever felt. “Does it feel better?” He asks. You swallow hard, nodding your head. “Y-yeah.” You breathe.

“Alright. Sometimes you have to adjust the way you’re angled-“ he moves a little bit and thrusts a couple of times, trying to get a feel for you. He lowers himself slightly, adjusting just right and thrusting. When he hears you gasp, feeling you tighten around him. “To find that spot.” He takes a deep breath. “Once you find it, don’t move or adjust and keep hitting it.” Ghost is thrusting, not too fast and not too slow. “O-oh god.” You breathe. Feeling yourself tighten around him. He clears his throat, turning to look at Johnny. He’s watching you intensely. Seeing that you’re obviously on the edge, as you’ve never looked like this before. “When she’s close, don’t move and don’t pick up the speed. If you do, you’ll lose your rhythm and overstimulate her without getting her there. I assume that’s what happens regularly.” He breathes. He reaches down between you, thumb pressing into your clit. “Not too hard now..” he breathes. Gentle touches and gentle circles.

Tears gather in your eyes, you’re right there. “Oh fuck!” You hiccup. “Go ahead, cum for me.”

Johnny’s cock is hard, the way you’re reacting is something he hadn’t ever seen before. Your eyes roll back, screwing shut as you reach your peak around Ghost. He thrusts a couple more times to ride your high out completely before pulling out of you.

He stands up. He wants nothing more than to kiss you. To help you come down from your high. But it’s not his place and he knows it. “You get the idea Johnny. Just.. take your time with her.” Ghost needs to hurry, he’s about to lose that high. He excuses himself quickly, hopping right into the shower. He realizes that he’d forgotten a condom completely. He’d just fucked you raw right in front of Johnny and nobody stopped him.

“You alright?” Johnny asks. “Uh.. yeah. Yeah. It’s getting a little late though. I have work tomorrow.” You mumble. You stand up but your legs buckle. Johnny laughs. “He uh.. really knows his stuff huh?” He jokes. You smile nervously. “Yeah, yeah he does.” You mumble. You say goodbye to Johnny, leaving to your apartment.

The way you feel isn’t good. You’re not sure what these feelings are.

———

A few nights later, Johnny comes in. He’s clearly frustrated. “Everything alright Johnny?” Ghost asks. “No, I still can’t make her cum. I do everything you showed me and it just doesn’t work.” He groans, sitting down. “You know what… I’m gonna go out for a drink. You wanna come?” He asks. “No, I’m good. Got drills early tomorrow.” He laughs. “Loosen up Johnny, you’ll learn.” He mumbles. Johnny leaves and right as Ghost is changing, he hears a knock at the door. “Damnit, forgot his fucking keys that fast?” He mumbles under his breath, opening up the door. “Uh.. sorry to bother you.” You mumble. “Y/N? You know you don’t have to knock right?” He asks. “Oh yeah- yeah I know.” You shake your head. “Is Johnny here?” You ask. “Nah he just left, come in.” He moves to the side. He’s shirtless. “He said things didn’t go well.”

You shrug. “He just- acts like he’s in a hurry.” You breathe. “Tonight he just.. got mad and left right in the middle. Said.. it shouldn’t take me that long.” You laugh, cheeks red. He rolls his eyes. “He’ll get it one day.” He mumbles.

Ghost knows that what he’s thinking about is wrong. Pushing you down and spearing you on his cock until you’re sobbing. He hates that he can’t have you.

“Do.. do you think that-“ you pause. “I know it’s wrong but, can you help me?” You look up at him. His blood about freezes at that question, words he never imagined out of your mouth in a million years. “Y/N…” he mumbles. “Johnny would be pissed if he found out.”

You laugh, looking down. “Yeah- yeah you’re right. I know.”

“I just can’t shake the way you made me feel. I’ve never ever felt like that before.” You breathe. “Thanks anyways- sorry for bothering you.” You mumble, turning to walk out the door. He sighs. Reaching out for your wrist. “Wait.” He breathes. “Just once, and we keep it between us alright?” You nod your head. Before you realize the severity of what you’re doing, he’s pulling you into his bedroom.

He’s got a pillow under your hips in just a few seconds and your heart races in your chest. The excitement you feel to cum like this again is near pathetic. “Try to keep up with me, I’m gonna be rough.” He mumbles. You nod your head. He slides into you and gives you a few seconds to adjust. You’re full once again, relishing in the way he feels inside of you. He feels so much different from Johnny, just the slightest bit difference and you’re falling over that edge.

He pins your hips to the bed, starting his bruising thrusts into you. He’d usually warm you up with foreplay but he knows with Johnny out for a while, he doesn’t have that kind of time.

You whine out, hands clutching his bedsheets. He can’t believe this.

He’s inside of you again. And not for another fucking lesson, just because.

Just because you want him.

“Oh fuck!” You gasp. Your moans draw him back down to earth. “Fuck- you’re so fucking tight.” He hisses. Butterflies overload your stomach, you’re already close to your high. He hadn’t even touched your clit and you’re already there. “Simon-“ you mewl his actual name. He didn’t even know that you had known it. It’s unexpected and something he didn’t think he’d ever hear out of you. You cum around him and he doesn’t expect it, the tightening of you around him sends him flying into his own orgasm. Gasping out as he reaches it. He lets out a string of curses and moans as he cums, body tense and shaking. It’s by far the hardest he’s ever cum. “Fuck- fuck. I came inside.” He breathes. He draws back from you. “Shit..” you mumble. “It’s- it’s okay I’ll pick something up for it.” You pant. He nods. “You okay?” He asks. Now, he can comfort you. He can’t kiss you, he knows it. But he can comfort you.

He lets you calm down in his bed until you’re ready to leave, but when you get out to your car, the dread sets in.

The fact that you had just cheated on Johnny with his step brother.

You drive home in shambles.

When Johnny comes home, it’s late. But Ghost hasn’t slept. He can’t.

“Thought you said you had drills?” Johnny asks. “Yeah, can’t fucking sleep.” He mumbles. Breathing out. “I did something stupid.” He breathes. “What? What happened?”

“I fucked another girl.” Simon’s eyes widen. “Johnny.. seriously?”

“Yeah.. I don’t know how I’m gonna tell Y/N.”

Ghost shakes his head. “That’s the end of it yknow?” Johnny swallows hard. “What?”

“Doesn’t seem like the kind of girl to put up with it, that’s the end of your relationship.”

Ghost picks a water up out of the fridge. “That sucks, rather liked Y/N, she’s a good girl.” He sighs. Walking back into his room. Johnny takes a deep breath. He hasn’t thought this through. The end, he hadn’t thought about it.

The next day, when Ghost comes home from work, Johnny isn’t home.

He’s not usually but this time, he wonders what’s going on. If the two of you will come clean or try to work things out. If Johnny will come right home and sock him right in the face, Ghost wouldn’t blame him. He kind’ve deserves it actually.

He hears him pull into the driveway, and he walks in with a box of his stuff. “So.. it didn’t go well?” Ghost mumbles. “Nah- it went alright.” He mumbles. “It did?” He nods. “Yeah. She came clean about something though.” Ghosts hair raises, he just knows he’s gonna have to fight Johnny off.

“She said that after that day- when you fucked her to show me how to make her cum, she caught feelings for you. Told me she forgives me but it wouldn’t have worked out anyways.”

“Wait- what?” Ghost mumbles.

“Yeah. So I gave her your number.” He laughs. “Would you even be okay with that?” Ghost is taken completely off guard. “I like Y/N, don’t get me wrong. I thought I’d be more broken up about it. But the intimacy just wasn’t there. She felt more like.. a sister than a girlfriend. I’m glad it’s going this way. Besides, I’ve seen the way you look at her. I know you like her.” Ghost takes a deep breath. His phone buzzes in his pocket.

‘Hey. Want to meet?’

Ghost doesn’t even need to ask to know who it is.

“Go get her, Riley.” Johnny laughs. “There’s no way you’re okay with this-“

“Ghost. Stop being stubborn. I’ve got a fox waiting for me at the bar, just go.” He laughs. He disappears into his room. Ghost swallows hard, typing back quickly on his phone.

‘On my way.’

He can’t believe this is happening.

He drives way too fast to get to your apartment. Knowing right where to go. He pulls into the parking lot and parks. Throwing the door open and slamming it shut.

He hurries up to your door, knocking a couple times. You open it pretty quick, you’d obviously been waiting. He leans on the frame, smiling.

“Caught feelings, hm?”

You roll your eyes. “So you’ve talked to Johnny, I see.”

He smirks. Stepping into your apartment and closing the door behind him. Locking it. “Yeah, yeah I did. You tell him about last night?” He asks. “I actually left that part out, so keep your mouth shut or else, Riley.” You mumble. “Ah- he’s busy with that girl from the bar. He doesn’t care.”

“Good.” You smirk.

He pushes you backward, lips finally meeting yours. He’s waited forever to feel your lips on his.

“How about I show you how I really do this, hm?” He smiles. He lifts you up by your thighs, walking into your bedroom with you. He lays you down on your bed, helping you get undressed. He takes his time with you. The drastic difference between him and Johnny is confusing.

He kisses you passionately, toying with your clit as he does. He’s working you up.

He kisses down your chest, he’s got you undressed and at his complete mercy. He moves down your body, worshipping you. When you feel his tongue on you, you go tense. Breathing out a jagged breath. “Deep breaths. Relax.” He breathes. You nod your head. He rests his hands on your thighs and you clutch them, moaning out as he starts again. Tonguing your clit. You pant out his name, trying to be as quiet as you can. “Oh fuck Simon-“ you shake. You clench your thighs together slightly, trying not to squish him. He laps at your clit with his tongue. Working you close to an orgasm. He squeezes your thighs with his arms.

His dick is hard and he ruts into the bed. Hearing you moan his name is nearly too much. He knows you’re his now, that he can fuck you and make you cum whenever he wants. He doesn’t have to worry about anyone finding out, or coming home. It’s just you and him together.

You let out a mewl when you cum, something so pretty. He can’t shake the way you make him feel.

He moves up the bed, not giving you much time to come down from your orgasm before he’s sliding into you. You gasp, but he kisses you to muffle it. He works his hips into yours. Grasping your thighs and lifting your hips as he fucks you. Screwing his hips into yours, his bruising pace is brutal. You can barely catch your breath. You clutch his wrist, feeling his muscles clench under your grasp. “Fuck! How are you so good at this?” You cry. He smirks. “Just a natural sweetheart. Focus on cumming for me.” He laughs, it’s taunting.

He slows down, taking in a sharp breath. “Let’s do it my favorite way hm? Can’t let you have all of the fun.” He moves you, forcing you up onto your hands and knees, moving himself behind you. He rests his hand on the middle of your back, pushing down. You arch your back, laying your head into the pillow. Ass up for him. He lines up with you, sliding into you. He lets you adjust, he’s deeper than usual and he doesn’t want to hurt you. It doesn’t take long.

He finds that spot, finding that pace. He’s got you crying into your pillow in just a few minutes. His hands grip your hips hard, sure to leave bruises there. You can’t wait to wake up and see them in the morning. He grasps a handful of your hair and forces you up, hearing you gasp. “How about you be a good girl and cum on my cock, hm?” You shiver at his tone. It’s unexpected. You whine out. He lifts you up until your back is flush with his chest. “Need some help darling?” He laughs. He makes you feel pathetic. He glides his hand down your stomach, moving lower. You whimper at the thought of him touching your clit.

It’ll send you right over the edge.

He brushes his fingertip over it, hearing you mewl. “Please- keep touching it.” You cry. “Ask nice baby.” He grits his teeth. “Please Simon- please keep touching my clit.” You’re nearly sobbing as you ask. He puts more pressure on it, circling it. You cry out his name again. He can feel you clamping down around him. About to cum again. “That’s it… atta girl Y/N. Cum now pretty girl.”

You fall forward but he doesn’t stop, finger still circling your clit and keeping his pace as he finishes you off. Tears escape your eyes this time, and you’d thought he’d made you feel good before, but this time was different. Your eyes widen when you feel him cum, feeling it this time. He cums deep.

You gasp as he takes one last thrust, feeling the warmth fill you.

You’re panting, eyes screwed shut. Your cheeks are flushed and wet from tears.

He laughs at you. How you’re exhausted and completely fucked out.

“Fuck you’re good at that.” You laugh. Sitting up. He turns your head, kissing you deeply. “I hope you know this means you’re mine.” He breathes. “Thank god, I can’t go through this again.” You laugh.

“Were you crying? I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No- no not at all. You just overwhelmed me that’s all.” You laugh. “Scared me for a second, thought I was too rough.” He snorts. “Not at all.” You breathe. “Let’s get cleaned up. I’ll buy you dinner.” He helps you off of the bed, your knees buckle before you can take a step but he’s quick to catch you.

“Jesus.” He laughs. “Maybe I am really good at this.” He smirks. You roll your eyes. “Very humble of you.”

“Shut up before I make you cry again.” He pushes you forward to your bathroom.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

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