#i'm sorry if this is a little confusing???

[xan-izme]

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞𝐬

Part 2: The Dead Ones

Tag list: @pix-stuff, @sweetconnoissurgarden, @craftymoonchaos, @jsprien213, @hebaoffside, @bunbunboysworld, @melonylla, @numbu5, @tatsuri-zomushiki, @formulas-bitch, @fantasyhopperhea, @otterluver05, @caged-birdies-blog, @minkyungseokie, @una1002289, @vanessa-boo, @welpthisisboring, @sirenetheblogger, @salfishers, @meeeeeeee-stuff, @eylsiankub, @lilithskywalker, @midnightprocrastinator, @lilyalone, @cloudserenity, @wizzerreblogs, @reallynotsoconfident, @deliajo, @bitternsweet, @astterrial, @jjggdfvvy

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You and Bruce were in his office, you let out a puff of smoke as you stood by the window. Taking in the view.

"You know, in Arkham, there wasn't any bars on the windows. More like, plastic glass, so blurry I couldn't even see the moon clearly." The cigarette shortened even more as you took a long drag from the cigarette.

Bruce watched you from his desk, an unreadable expression on his face. You look so. . . it's hard for him to see you as who you are right now. Deep down Bruce knew you'd change some way after Arkham. Which was his sorry excuse for not visiting you. Only reading three of your letters, and stopped, he felt shame when it came to you. For which one of you, he doesn't know.

There are times, he did feel shame of being your father. Horrible, he knows. He's the worst father alive. And that's when he feels shameful of himself.

You let out a small sigh before turning to Bruce, you see the complex expression he had.

". . . You know Daddy, I don't think I ever seen you smile."

You walked closer to his desk and took a seat on one of the chairs. Bruce just silently stared at you. You still call him Daddy. He wanted to feel happy at the fact one thing stayed the same with you. But the way you said it. You said it in such a mocking way. Like it was a joke. Him being your father was a joke to you. It hurt. He rather you call him Bruce in the most hateful way you could.

"Y/n, I'm sorry-" Bruce tries to apologize, but you cut him off with the wave of your hand.

"I'm not here to fish out any apology from you."

Silence fills the room. You sighed again, putting out the cigarette by dropping it into a glass of water. You stood up and approached the vinyl player, you start it up as Bruce raised his brow in confusion. You turn around to face him

"Come on daddy, let's dance." You approached the older man, grabbing his arm and tugged him to stand. Even with how random your request was, Bruce complied, and you two began to slow dance together, the feeling was foreign to both.

The slow music continued as you two danced. You let your head rest on your father's shoulder, staring blankly at nothing. Bruce squeezed your hand. You began to realize. You have never been this close to Bruce. Always 4 feet away.

"When I was a little girl, there was this daddy daughter dance at school. . . I always wanted to dance with you like this. But you were busy. I understood, but it still hurt" Your statement caused Bruce to hold you a little tighter. Before he could attempt to apologize. You spoke up to shut him down.

"Don't you dare apologize."

The two of you continue to slow dance. You closed your eyes as Bruce rests his chin on your head. Closing his eyes. The two of you swaying to the music.

This moment should be a peaceful, loving moment between a father and daughter. But it felt more like an ending to a story that was going nowhere.

"Daddy, I have a question for you."

Bruce hummed in acknowledgement, still holding you tight.

Your eyes slowly open. "Have you seen Mommy recently?" Your question caught your father off guard. Visibly frozen. You lift your head up and see his expression turn a little sour.

"Why?" He spoke, slightly offended. Your spending time with him, why not focus on him?

"She's been missing. For a month. Not even her own family knows where she is. . ."

"Well, I don't where she is. I haven't had contact with her for years."

You sighed and pulled away, turning your back to him. A sign to show you were upset with his answer. Bruce frowns a little at you pulling away, his arms stayed up, almost to reach back for you.

"She visited me, every week, for several years. So please, understand I need to find her." You really were hoping to see if Bruce knew anything. But of course, he disappoints you with nothing. Again.

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You got a text from Rex; your grandfather needed you back at the manor. You didn't have enough time to get your things from your old room, so you left Bruce in his office, walking to the front doors, where Alfred waited for you with your coat, along with Dick, Tim and.. . someone else you didn't recognize. But you focused on Alfred, and gently smile to the older man.

"Thank you for the food, Alfred, probably the one thing I missed the most while locked up." You spoke in a joking manner as you turned to let Alfred put your coat on for you. Alfred smiled a little.

"Thank you, miss."

You look up and give the three men a small nod "Dick, Tim . . . And?" You gave the third man a small look of confusion.

"I'm sorry I don't believe I got your name." You adjusted your coat as you stared up at the man and gave him your hand to shake. But the man just stared at you, Dick had to nudge him to snap him out of it.

The man snapped out of it and quickly took your hand and held it as gently as possible. You took notice of the scars on his calloused hand. He spoke in a nervous tone

"Jason, Jason Todd"

You instantly come to a pause.

"I- Uh, Jason Todd?" You know the name. Very well. But the name doesn't fit the face you remember.

But the look on everyone's face says it all, you know this family would not lie about this. You stepped closer to Jason, your hands hovering over his face, Jason could see your eyes glossed over with incoming tears that never fell.

" How. . .I thought you were dead. . ." You spoke in almost a whisper.

Jason lets out a weak chuckle.

"I thought you were dead too."

No words could express how much he missed you. When he came back from the dead, back into the family. No one dared to mention you. Even when he asked about you. They acted as if you were dead. But you were only a few miles away. Locked up. The thought alone angers him, he could have saved you sooner.

"Heh, I seem to get that a lot." You coil back and felt your phone buzz. Your ride was here.

"Do you have to leave Miss? It's late, why not stay for the night." Alfred tries to have you stay for at least a night.

"You just got here" - Dick

"The crime has gotten worse lately"- Tim

"Please. . .?"- Jason

You sighed as you opened the door,

"Sorry boys, no can do. Maybe another time." You gave them a small smile and turned to the car that was here to pick you up, but when you took a few steps down the staircase, you turn around where the entrance door was still open with Alfred and the boys stood.

"Oh, and Jason" Hearing you speak his name, Jason immediately perked up

"It was good seeing you. . . alive and all." You gave him a small toothy grin, before finally getting into the car.

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Do you understand, how angry Jason was right now? After all this time thinking you were dead, his sweet little sister gone, you were alive, in a cage full of crazy's. He doesn't care if you took a few lives. You didn't mean too, it was an accident.

He was furious with Bruce for letting you get locked up for so long. Because you're staying with the Falcone's, a bunch of criminals that resort to anything if kept on the top.

"She was alive this whole time, and you knew."

Not only was it Bruce, but Dick knew to. Of all people to keep this away from him, Jason wouldn't think Dick of all people would lie.

"No one said she was dead Jay." Dick tried to calm Jason in some way.

"No one said she was alive!" Jason was quick to snap at Dick who just frowned at Jason's tone.

Your reappearance was indeed a shock to everyone and a lot of them are still trying to process it. As for the ones who never knew of your existence, they were trying to find out more about you. Your name has never been uttered, no pictures of you. Nothing. It was like you never really existed.

Thank Tim for that. Who had to remove you completely, so the Wayne name had less pressure on them. But now Tim is trying to gather what kind of rehabilitation you were in. He felt suspicious of your return. The way your eyes would bare into everyone in a sort of creepy way. As if analyzing them, Tim knew if he brought it up to either Bruce or Dick they would not listen to him. Especially by the way they reacted to your return.

So he was lucky Cassandra and Duke came to him first.

"The way she stared at me, I don't know man it gave me the creeps." Duke wasn't saying this out of meanness. You were genuinely making him uneasy every time you glanced at him, even more nervous when you gave him a smile.

Cassandra felt threatened by you. No one but her noticed how you stared at her the most.

"Something isn't right with her." Was all Cassandra said. Something was indeed wrong with you.

". . . Well, she just got out of Arkham, maybe she's a little. . . ?" Duke trailed off. Not wanting to say the word crazy just yet.

Tim silently listened to Duke and Cassandra's concern about you.

"Haven't you known her longer Tim?" Duke questioned.

Tim sat back in his chair as he let out a small sigh. You might have not noticed much, but he was always watching you. From the moment Bruce took him under his wing. You were small. Quiet, and simple. Not like that was a bad thing. At that time Tim wanted excitement, thrill. And you were none of those things, due to the fact you were practically a toddler.

But now, your different. Of course. It's a no-brainer Arkham would change you, he saw it coming. But your change was, unsettling. He hoped you would stay for him to find out more. But it seems your occupied with the Falcone's at the moment. Whatever it is, he's going to find out.

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"𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚊 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎?"

[writting-stuff-sometimes]

Knight in papaya armor - Lando x F. reader

Summary: Lando gets a late-night drunk text from y/n who seems to be intoxicated and in a weird place. Even when they've broken up he will search the earth to save her.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, mention of drugs, and roofies.

Word Count: 2.3K

Notes: I have something with exes, sorry not sorry.

···

When Lando got your text at 2 am he knew you were either in trouble or wasted. You had only texted him a couple of times after the breakup. The first one was a drunk voicemail telling him how much he had hurt you, and the other was when you had been locked out of your apartment in the middle of the night, no locksmith was available and he still had a key. But this had been months ago.

He was playing with Max off-stream. It was Christmas break, and he needed a detox from social media. When your message reached him, and as soon as Mary gave him the location, he was on his way there.

As he drove through one of the shipyard warehouses, his blood rushed just thinking about you alone there. As much as Monaco was a safe country, there were some places you wouldn't like to find yourself alone as a young female.

He parked his car next to some high-end cars and walked with his hood up towards the pined place.

He got to a semy-hidden entrance where a suited man stood blocking the door, looking at his phone.

"Invite code?" The man spoke without even looking at him.

"I don't think I need one" He rarely face-carded his way into places but knew there was no other way he could make it inside.

The guard looked up from his phone and took a close look at him, he was about to dismiss him when a drunk guy inside yelled his name.

"Lando? Lando Norris?" The drunken guy approached the entrance.

"Yeah" he simply answered.

"Mate, come on in" The drunken guy tapped the guard on his shoulder, and he moved to the side allowing the driver in.

"What can I get you?" The blond guy offered Lando a glass of champagne as soon as he was inside, the driver took it but had no intention of drinking it, he just needed to find you and get you the hell out of there.

"Thanks, I'm looking for a friend"

"I haven't seen any of the other drivers here" From the way he was dragging his words, Lando hoped his drunken state would make it easy to ditch him as soon as he had found you, allowing you two to escape the dark place.

As his new "fridend" kept talking, he looked around, a bunch of nepo babies, sketchy guys, and mostly underage girls in revealing outfits swamped the place. He could feel his heart rate rise just looking at the way most of the guys were behaving towards the drunken girls, and as he imagined you being treated the same, made his blood boiled.

"Sorry mate, the restroom?" He asked the blond guy.

"That way"

"Thanks" he patted him in a friendly way and walked towards the spot the guy had signaled.

When he was out of sight, he walked the place looking for you, trying to hide his identity. He was losing his patience by the second as he looked at the amount of alcohol and drugs being passed around.

He started looking for a red dress, and he could finally breathe when he found you. The moment he caught a guy's arm wrapped around your waist and saw him talking to your ear, he saw red. Without a second thought, he made a beeline towards you not caring anymore about pushing people to the side and being recognized, he just needed to get you out of that place, fast.

"Y/n" he yelled as he was arm's distance from you. The confused look on your face as soon as you saw him pained him a little. Usually, your eyes lit up when you saw him, but not this time.

"Lan?"

The guy next to you turned to look at Lando, annoyed.

"I need to talk to you" Lando took you by the arm and tried to pull you towards the exit but the dark-haired guy grabbed your hand before you two could walk away.

"Excuse me, she's busy"

"This will be quick" Lando tried to sound as friendly as possible.

"Don't think so, mate" The dark-haired guy pulled your hand harshly.

"Don't do that" Lando spoke menacingly.

"What are you going to do about it?"

Without a second thought, Lando punched the guy hard in the face making him lose his balance, his drunken state making it easy for him to fall and difficult to stand back up. He knew now, more than ever he needed to get the hell out of there. He grabbed your hand and pulled you fast toward the exit. Thankfully the people around you were too out of it to catch what had just happened.

You stumbled trying to keep up with him, but the heels and the amount of alcohol in your system complicated the task. You reached the entrance, the big guy in the suit was about to stop you but Lando swiftly shouldered him out of the way. He knew he had to run fast to his car so he pulled you over his shoulder and rushed to his car as you fought hitting his back and yelling for him to put you down.

He opened the passenger door, throwing you in as carefully as he could, and rushed to the driver's side, spinning his wheels leaving the bodyguards behind.

He reduced the speed once he was in the safety of the Monegasque streets.

"What the fuck?" You yelled annoyed, but he just kept driving silently, his knuckles white from how hard he was grabbing the steering wheel, breathing deeply, trying to ease his rushing heart.

"Lando, what the hell?"

Still no answer from the driver.

He got to your place and parked in the familiar spot.

You stood in the car in silence for a couple of minutes, the look on his face calmer now, but you knew him very well, it was one of those tense moments when you would just sit there silently waiting for someone to finally break the silence.

"Let's go" He opened the door and walked to the passenger side to open yours.

You stepped out the car, the look on his face softer now.

He touched your lower back and led you towards the elevator. You expected him to walk you there and return to his car, but he stepped in and pressed your floor.

You rode the elevator in complete silence, the alcohol in your system had gone down a bit, allowing you to stand up without any aid.

He walked you to your door, and you searched your bag for your key.

"Shit" you softly cursed under your breath.

A breathy laugh left his body as he searched his pants, took out a couple keys, and opened your door.

Yes, you had forgotten to get the keys back that last time he had helped you, or more like he had managed to avoid giving them back, just in case.

You stumbled in kicking your shoes off, and he did the same, remembering the no-shoes rule in your apartment.

"What the hell were you thinking?" He finally spoke.

You sat on the couch, confused, what the hell was he doing there? how the fuck he had found you?

"What are you doing here?" you tried to sound annoyed, you weren't sure why you were mad at him but knew you should be.

"You messaged me"

"What?" You took your phone and looked at the drunken texts. "Ugh"

"I'll take that as a a thank you"

"What should I thank you for? I was having fun at a party and you punched your way there"

"Actually, getting inside was the easy part" he joked, standing before you. He stared at you, assessing your estate, worried you had been drugged or something. From the way everyone was behaving at the party, he wouldn't find it weird the asshole talking to you had tried to spiked your drink.

"You can stop staring" You said trying to get his eyes off you. You had broken up six months ago but he still made your heart rush.

"Just making sure you're ok"

"No need, I'm perf-" A gag cut your speech short. "Fuck" you stood up and rushed to the toilet.

He walked behind you. You slammed the bathroom door in his face, but he stood outside as he heard you puke your guts out.

"I'm fine," you yelled behind the door. He smiled softly at your stubbornness; it was a sign you were okay, well, as much as you could be. He walked to the kitchen, giving you some privacy as he turned on the coffee machine.

You exited the bathroom a bit more sober now, your face damp from the water you had splashed over it trying to ease the dizziness and the minty taste of the toothpaste trying to cover the shameful puke aftertaste.

"Here" he offered a cup of coffee.

"Thanks" You took it and walked back to the couch.

"How did you find me?" you asked before taking a sip from the warm liquid, wincing at the bitter taste of the mint and coffee mix.

"Mary"

"She gave you my location?" Mary had spent the last six months cursing Lando's name.

"As much as she hates me she was worried about you too"

"Oh shit" That meant this was just the first time you were going to be scolded about tonight and Mary's version was definitely going to be worse.

"That's right, you scared us both, young lady"

"Don't call me that, i'm older than you two"

"Just one year, and it sure doesn't seem like it from the way you behaved tonight"

You rolled your eyes at his response and took another sip from the mug. Now that you were more conscious he knew it was time to lecture you, not that he never did stupid things, but this had actually been dangerous.

"Seriously, y/n" he sat on the coffee table in front of you, his hands on your knees sending electric waves through your body. "You can't do that again, please"

"Do what?" you tried to fight him.

"This, going to those places alone! do you know what could've happened?"

"It was just a party, I'm not a teenager, and I don't know why would you care anymore"

"I will always care about you, always"

"What?"

"Y/n, I love you" He softly said as his fingers caressed your knees under the satin fabric.

Your mind rushed, trying to remember the last six months, searching for the reason you had broken up and to remain apart. But there wasn't a specific reason, it had been a weird mix of life pulling you apart, his season being chaotic with the championship pressure, and your last year of school and the internship taking every minute of your time, making it impossible to support him like he wanted, making you feel guilty and making him feel alone and like a burden. He was the one who had offered to take a break, not because he didn't love you, on the contrary, he saw how you were trying to rip yourself into tiny pieces to fit school, work, and your love life, but it was too much, your sleeping and eating habits a mess trying to keep up with everything.

It pained him seeing you so worn out, and he felt if he pulled himself out of the equation, you might have time to take care of yourself, but of course, you weren't ok with it, your stubborness always trying to keep up with everything.

The day you broke up, you were running on 2 hours of sleep and two Redbull cans, the lack of food and tiredness blew everything out of proportion.

"If you don't want to be with me anymore, just say it, there's no need to make up all these dumb excuses!"

"Baby, listen to me"

"No! Just admit it, Lando, you don't want to be with me anymore!"

"Y/n, please listen to me" He tried to explain himself but you just grabbed your suitcase and rushed out of the apartment.

He tried calling you for days, but you were too burned out to listen to him, crying yourself to sleep every night for the next couple of weeks until Mary cornered you in some kind of intervention and kicked some sense into you. Of course, you had only told her your side of the story making her hate his guts for breaking her best friend's heart.

You cringed at the memory, feeling guilty as it downed on you he was just looking after you.

You looked down at the mug between your hands.

"Baby" Lando's hands took your face when he noticed a tear falling down your cheek.

"I'm sorry" you sobbed.

"There's nothing to be sorry" He sat by your side, hugging you tightly against him. "Baby, shhh, it's ok"

"No its not, I ruined it"

"No you didn't"

"I did, you were just trying to take care of me"

"I still do, I'll always will"

"How can you forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive, we were too tired and too busy to think things straight"

"You're too nice, I don't deserve you"

"No one really does"

You pushed yourself away to stare at him. A cheeky smile on his face.

"I'm kidding" He approached you and tried to kiss you but you turned away.

"Wait, I puked" you tried to push him away but he held you tighter against him.

"I don't give. shit" He turned your face and kissed your lips softly.

"I'm sorry" You said when he pulled back.

"Stop apologizing" he kissed you harshly now.

"But I really am. I wasn't thinking straight and I made Mary hate you"

"We both were too into our own stuff, and I'm pretty sure she didn't quite like me in the first place, so no damage done there"

"Are we..?"

"Do you want to give it another try?" His eyes glinted from excitement.

"Do you want to?"

"Of course, but you’re the one telling Mary we’re back.

“Chicken”

“She might actually kill me if I tell her”

________________________________________________

Thanks so much for all your love, feedback is greatly appreciated and let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

Tag List: @wtrmlnsgr94, @ricsaigaslec, @ironmaiden1313, @formulas-bitch, @f1fantasys

[cherryxbooo]

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!

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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?

View all comments

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 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

[nachrosas]

A CUP OF JEALOUSY, PLEASE | s.reid x reader

summary: in which a rookie agent tries to hard to get your attention, much of spencer dismay.

pairing: spencer reid x reader

content warnings: none, just pure fluff!

word count: 558

a/n: night, night! this is not my best work (still have doubts about posting it, but i kinda like it!) and it's the first time i write something about jealousy! a little late than usual, but that's it! also, my inbox is always open to chat (i love to talk and meet new people)! till the next one!

The cafeteria was particularly busy that morning, the aroma of freshly ground beans mingling with the faint buzz of conversations and orders being called out bit by bit. The team was scattered around one of the larger tables, enjoying a rare moment of respite. Spencer, sitting at the opposite end of the table, was leafing through an article on criminal psychology that he had printed out earlier, but his eyes didn't stay on the paper for long.

Every few seconds, he cast a discreet glance in your direction, mentally assessing the interaction between you and the rookie agent, who seemed to be much more interested in you than in the conversation.

“Really! You're the main reason I got interested in the FBI.” the rookie said with a broad smile on his face — too broad if Spencer could be honest. He was leaning forward as if he wanted to absorb his every word. “I heard reports about how you dealt with that killer in Seattle. It was brilliant.”

You laughed, trying to disguise your embarrassment. “It was teamwork, as always.”

The rookie shook his head, clearly not convinced. “No, really. You have an amazing way of dealing with things. It must be fascinating to work alongside you every day.”

Spencer, on the other side of the table, turned another page of the article with more force than necessary, the sound echoing through the room. No one seemed to notice, except for you, who cast a quick, puzzled glance in his direction.

“Ah, you need to hear this,” said the rookie, leaning even closer. “Once, in training, I was told that an agent like you only comes along once a generation. I bet the criminals don't even know what hit them.”

The exaggerated laugh he let out soon after echoed through the café, attracting stares - including from Spencer, who couldn't hold back any longer. He put the article aside and stood up calmly, but his movements were jerky.

“Sorry to interrupt.” said Spencer, his voice firm but polite, as he approached. ”We need to go over some of the variables in the profile before the meeting later. Do you have a moment now, Love?”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised and relieved by the sudden intervention. “Of course. We can talk now.”

“Great.” he replied, glancing briefly at the newcomer, who gave him a slightly disconcerted smile. “Oh, and maybe afterward you can share your 'inspiration' with the rest of the team, agent. I'm sure we'd all love to hear about the unique generation of talent we'll have here.”

The newcomer looked confused for a moment, but you didn't care, as Spencer was guiding you away, gently holding your arm.

“That was… subtle.” you commented quietly, holding back a laugh as you walked off to the side.

“He was being annoying.” Spencer replied, his eyes still a little dark. “And exaggerated laughter has no place in criminal analysis.”

“Oh, I see,” you said, smiling at him. “Does jealousy have anything to do with it?”

Spencer paused for a moment, the blush creeping up his cheeks. “I just thought the conversation had strayed from its… professional focus.”

You laughed softly. “Thank you, Spencer. That was lovely.”

He opened his mouth to protest but ended up sighing, muttering something about variables while concentrating on something other than the amused smile on your face.

[babybearnation]

driving home for christmas

⎇oscar piastri x gn!reader - you're spending christmas alone... or are you? (oneshot) ⎇author's note: my first ever oneshot and ofc, it's a gift fic hehe. MERRY CHRISTMAS @koalapastries I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!!!!!! (also sorry, i know you're australian but i know nothing about australian xmas so uhhh reader lives in england) ⎇content warnings: crying, implied depression, light angst with a happy ending ⎇word count: 1.1k

Y/n sighs, nudging the fridge door shut with their hip, a few things rattling inside. Christmas steadily ticks closer and closer and they were not looking forward to when the day would actually arrive. For the first time ever, they'd be spending Christmas alone, and they weren't looking forward to it.

Y/n sighs once more before focusing on making their hot chocolate, craving that much needed chocolatey warmth. Maybe it would make them feel better. Probably not, but it was worth a shot, right?

A bleep from their phone pulls their attention away and they look down at the device, placing the milk to one side to pick it up. What greets them is a text from their boyfriend, Oscar, who'd gone home to celebrate Christmas with his family. The message preview is just a simple [image attached]. Y/n smiles softly and unlocks the phone, a frown quickly forming on their face instead mere seconds later.

It's a cute photo - Oscar's got a silly little Santa hat on and there are all manner of tinsel and light decorations behind him - but Y/n feels bitter and jealous. Why couldn't they be there, celebrating with Oscar and his family?

Y/n sends back a few simple hearts before locking the device and turning back to finish making their drink with a heavy sign. They cradle the hot cup in their palms and stare around at their undecorated apartment with tired eyes.

"This holiday season is gonna suck."

"Hey baby." Y/n says, smiling as Oscar's handsome face fills their phone screen. His camera is more pixelated than normal and he appears to be in a car, the occasionally jerk to his body being captured by the camera.

"Hey, sorry. Meant to call you at home but something came up and now I have to go somewhere. Still wanted to call though." Oscar's voice crackles through the speakers, and Y/n smiles softly. It's a bit rough, but it's better than Oscar not calling at all.

"Where you off to?" Y/n asks, tucking their legs under themself as they stare at Oscar's form, albeit a much poorer quality version. Oscar hums distractedly before registering what Y/n had said, a soft blush coating his cheeks. Y/n's eyebrows furrow in confusion. What could possibly have him so distracted?

"Just a last minute visit to a family friend, that's all. Travelling across half of Australia for it." Oscar says and Y/n hums, frowning softly as they avoid looking at the screen. "You okay?" Y/n sighs at that. Why did everyone have to ask them that question all the fucking time?

"Just... first Christmas all alone, remember? Not even a pet to keep me company." Y/n scoffs, tears building in their eyes. They sigh and lift their head up, blinking away tears. "Sorry..."

"Baby, please, don't be sorry. I'm not gonna claim to know how you're feeling but I'm always gonna be here for you. I'll spend as much of my Christmas with you as I can, I promise you that." Oscar says, the endearing sweetness that made Y/n fall for him evident in his voice. When Y/n looks back down at their phone after blinking away the handful of tears that had graced their eyes, they're greeted by a softly smiling Oscar. Seconds later, he turns his phone, his mum appearing on the screen instead.

"Hello sweetie. Keep your chin up, okay? Next year, you can spend it with us if you're still alone." Nicole says, beaming at Y/n. Y/n smiles and chuckles softly, wiping away the new batch of tears that had sprung up out of nowhere. God, why did this make them so emotional?

"Thank you, Mama Piastri. That means a lot." Y/n smiles softly. Nicole smiles and wishes them a Merry Christmas before the camera is filled with Oscar's far too handsome face again. He looks apologetic and Y/n knows he's about to say goodbye. It hurts, but Y/n can't prevent it.

"I gotta go now, okay? I'll talk to you as soon as I can." Oscar says, a genuine sadness staining his expression. Y/n smiles and says their goodbyes, the call ending seconds later. Their phone drops to their lap as tears flood down their face.

Y/n winces as the brightness of their phone screen hits their face and fills their vision. December 25th, 7:18am. Still nothing from Oscar. It had been over an entire day of no Oscar and Y/n was starting to worry they'd scared him off with their crying a few days ago.

With a groan, Y/n rolls out of bed, padding over to the window. They tug open the curtains, taking in the frost-covered grass at the front of their house. A unfamiliar car is parked outside and Y/n grumbles to themself about neighbours not having the courtesy to ask to use the parking space before doing so.

The more they observe the random newcomer car, the more they notice. The driver is still inside, and unlike the other, more familiar cars that dot the street, this one seems relatively unblemished by the ice and frost outside. Y/n furrows their eyebrows before sighing and turning from the window.

"What am I doing?" Y/n murmurs. They cross to their dresser and pull out some clothes when an insistent knocking sounds at the door. They huff and drop their clothes onto their bed before traipsing out of their room.

Seriously, who the fuck was knocking at damn near 7:30am on fucking Christmas Day? Y/n was alone, sure, but no one else they knew was alone and all of their neighbours kept to themselves on Christmas Day. So who the fuck was it?

Y/n tears the door open as they reach it before freezing, eyes wide in shock at who stands before them. "Oscar?"

"Surprise." Oscar says. Y/n doesn't let him speak further after that, diving into his arms. His bags clatter and thud against the floor as he drops them, lacing his arms around Y/n's torso. "You didn't think I'd let you spend Christmas all alone, did you?" He whispers into their hair.

Y/n pulls away and cups his face, tears threatening to drip from their lash line. Oscar reaches up and wipes away the dampness, a soft smile on his face. Y/n tugs him into a kiss, not caring who could see. Oscar responds eagerly, fingers dipping below the hem of their shirt, brushing along Y/n's soft skin.

"I love you. I love you so much. I love you, Oscar." Y/n says. It's the first time they've said it, yet they know they mean it with each and every fiber of their being. Oscar smiles and kisses them again, tugging them even closer.

"I love you too, baby. Merry Christmas."

© all rights to babybearnation 2024.

[kiryoutann]

i feel like this was wayyy too cute not to share now, so… sneak peek??? and i'm convinced simon is the most patient girl dad out there.

Walking over slowly so as not to scare her, he then asked, “What’s goin’ on ‘ere then?”

Gianna whipped around in a flash like a criminal caught in the act, her big brown eyes gleaming with a touch of guilt but not a trace of fear. "I dropped my cereal," she confessed succinctly, mirroring a trait she had unquestionably inherited from her father.

He crouched down next to her. “’Ere, let me help you with that,” then reached out, taking the paper towel from her tiny hands and started cleaning up.

Gianna just watched him until she finally spoke. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to make a mess.”

“’S alright, darlin’. Accidents ‘appen.” Simon stated, rising to his feet and tossing the used tissues into the trash can. He then turned his attention back to his daughter. “But you could’ve woke me up. I’d ‘ave helped you clean it up straight away.”

“I know, but you were sleeping. An’ mum says you sleep like a… like a… clog?”

At that, he couldn't help but chuckle. “I think you mean a log, love.” He corrected.

“Oh right!” The little girl exclaims, nodding her head. “Tha’s the word. You sleep like a log.”

“Yeah, alright, whatever yer mum says.” He glanced at the box of cereal still sitting on the kitchen counter, then decided to keep himself and his daughter away from it. “So cereal is no option then. What d’you want for breakfast instead?”

Without missing a beat, Gianna chirps, “Ice cream!”

Simon snorts, shaking his head. “Can’t ‘ave ice cream for breakfast, darlin’.”

Gianna tilts her head to the side, eyes looking up at him questioningly. "Why not?" she asked. “Mummy 'as coffee for breakfast, alllll the time!” she spreads her arms out for dramatic effect—he chuckles at that. Definitely got it from mommy.

“Yeah, don’t be like yer mum, alright?”

The girl frowns slightly. “But why not? Mummy’s pretty, an’ she cooks good food.”

Something he couldn’t disagree with. He nodded, reaching out to ruffle her blonde hair. “That she does, darlin’. But we still don’t want you havin’ coffee or ice cream for breakfast, alright?”

"Okay, then can we go to Uncle John's house?" she asked.

“An’ why’s that?”

Gianna bounced on her toes, her arms swinging. “I miss Buddy an’ Daisy!”

Simon groaned inwardly. Should’ve known she’d bring that up. Ever since that one time he brought her to Price’s place and she met his dogs, Gianna has been begging to go back. Every time after school—“Can we go to Uncle John’s house?” Every weekend—“Can we go to Uncle John’s house?” And the thing is, the bloody mutts aren’t even there anymore, not since Price and his missus divorced.

“The dogs ain't there anymore, love.” He watched her face fall.

"Why not?" she asked, eyes wide in confusion.

Simon shrugged. “Cause,” he trailed off, not really wanting to explain the whole messy divorce situation to a five-year-old. “Nevermind that. What d’you want for breakfast?”

Instead of answering, Gianna crossed her arms while frowning. “I don’t want breakfast. I want Buddy an’ Daisy!

A sigh escaped Simon as the results of his parenting bit him in the ass. Bloody hell, he had to stop surrendering to her big eyes and pouting lips—just like her mum. She had learned from the best, hadn’t she? Got him wrapped around her tiny finger. There was only one trick up his sleeve to get her to cooperate.

“If you don’t eat breakfast, then then we won’t be able to go an’ watch yer mum later.”

And sure enough, Gianna’s whole expression lit up, renewed. She gasped, hands flying up to cover her mouth in an exaggerated gesture. Seems like he got himself a drama queen.

“We’re gonna watch Mum?!” she asked, full of hope.

Simon nodded, trying to maintain a serious expression but always failing because of her antics. “As long as you behave an’ eat breakfast.”

The five-year-old was cheering, jumping, and doing her little dances in unbridled energy—just like her mum. He guessed it was true what Garrick said that day the lads visited the two of you at the hospital after Gianna was born—“She’s a perfect blend of the both of you.”

[peterm4rker]

(❆⋆.˚) little white lie !

🕸🕷✮⋆ [mark x reader] ...୨♡୧... wc. 2.8k w. cursing, lmk if you find any! fluff ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

this christmas you were undoubtedly, royally fucked.

it had all started very innocently, a white lie to get your family off your back once and for all. but then it snowballed to create one big, ugly snowman to personally hunt you all through winter. it was because of him that you chewed at your nails nervously as you looked at the text that reflected on your screen, your cousin’s name adorning the top of the chat.

you should invite your bf to go christmas shopping with us! i'm sure k will be happy to have someone to talk to :)

fuck.

the text was nothing but friendly and well intended, there was just one tiny little problem. you did not have a boyfriend to invite. you tried to come up with an excuse, but you had unfortunately used every single valid thing that you could’ve thought of to get your nonexistent boyfriend off of all the family activities he was invited to.

“what are you making your fingers bleed for?” mark, your best friend, asked as he approached your body on the couch, holding two mugs of tea. once he placed them on the coffee table, he reached for your hand and moved it from your lips down to your lap as he always did to prevent you from harming yourself. 

“my cousin wants me to invite my boyfriend to celebrate christmas with my family” you groaned, your hands going up to rub at your eyes in frustration. 

mark’s eyebrows furrowed as he heard you speak “what boyfriend?”

and that’s when it downed on you, the fact that you had never told mark about your little white lie. you thought of ways to avoid the question, wracking your brain to find something to say other than “you actually, i've been lying to my family for months to get them off my back and they think you’re my very beloved and devoted boyfriend.” but you knew he wouldn’t leave it alone until he knew the truth, also, you had never been able to lie to mark.

“you” you muttered, face still behind your hands as you tried to pretend this wasn’t happening.

“huh?” mark asked incredulously, causing you to look from in between your fingers at his dumbfounded expression “come again?”

you took a deep breath before speaking again, finally moving your hands down and meeting his eyes. “a few months ago, at seollal i told my family i had a boyfriend because they wouldn’t stop pestering me about it and when they asked me who it was i couldn’t think of any other name but yours” 

mark ignored the way his heart skipped a beat at the knowledge that his name was the first one to pop into your head when you had to make up a fake boyfriend, looking at you with wide eyes “dude! that's like almost a year ago! why didn't you tell me?”

“i know! but it wasn’t supposed to last this long or be this important, you had no reason to know” you explained, notably stressed as you ran a hand through your hair “i’m sorry, okay?”

“what on earth are you sorry about?” he questioned, even more confused than before.

“i shouldn’t have used you like that” you muttered, your voice sounding way softer than before as you looked down to your hands, beginning to pick at the skin again.

mark’s heart shrinked about three sizes as he watched you, feeling guilty for making you think he was mad about that. “i’m not mad at you” he reassured, taking your hand in his to make you stop your nervous reaction. “i’m just saying that if you had told me i could’ve helped you”

you lifted your eyes to stare into his, eyebrows furrowing slightly “help me how?”

“i don’t know, i could’ve acted like your boyfriend or something,” he shrugged, smiling now that your eyes had found his.

“you would do that?” you asked, your lips forming a smile instinctively at the sight of his own.

“of course i would, bro” he squeezed your hands softly before letting go of them, trying his hardest not to show how difficult it was for him to let go. 

“would you want to come christmas shopping with my cousin and her boyfriend, then? if we go to that she can confirm you’re real and prevent my parents from sending me into a psych ward for making up a guy” you chuckled softly, a little nervous. 

“for sure, i wouldn’t want my best friend to be sent away like that” he joked and bumped your shoulder with no strength. “just let me know when and i’ll even pick you up”

“she said on the 17th” you couldn’t contain your smile as you jumped forward, enveloping him in your arms “thank you so much, markie”

the boy prayed that you couldn’t feel the way his heart was racing at the contact. even when you were always a touchy person, he couldn’t help but get flustered whenever your body came in contact with his. “of course, ynnie.”

…

“okay, let's discuss boundaries” you spoke as you got into his car. the day of your first mission (as he liked to call it) had finally arrived, and he had picked you up just as he had promised. “we need to make it realistic, but i don’t want you to be uncomfortable so i think no kissing is obvious” you presented as he began driving.

“sure, yeah” he agreed, deciding that telling you that kissing you would not make him uncomfortable at all would be a little weird.

“anything you want to add?” you asked as you looked at his side profile, a smile on your lips as you stared at him.

“nah, we’re good” he looked at you for a second before turning back to the road.

the rest of the drive was filled with laughter and chaos as always, you two only settling down when he parked the car at the entrance of the mall. you looked around for a few seconds until you found your cousin and her boyfriend standing by their car. 

“okay, they’re over there” you pointed out “ready, boyfie?” you asked with a humorous tone lingering in your voice.

“so ready, sweetheart” he smiled and got out of the car, moving quickly to open your door for you. you smiled and rolled your eyes in amusement at how hard he was trying before beginning to walk towards your cousin. 

you greeted her excitedly, then moved on to greet her boyfriend. you had known him for years, and were quite friendly with him. “guys, this is mark, my boyfriend” you smiled as you introduced them.

mark almost screamed at how being introduced as your boyfriend made him feel, even if it was fake “hey guys, nice to meet you” he smiled as he extended his hand towards the girl, shaking it politely.

time passed as you walked around the mall, your attention mostly on your cousin as you caught up after too long of not seeing each other, your respective ‘boyfriends’ walking a little behind as they carried your bags.

“she talks about you a lot, you know” yudai said as he caught mark looking at you adoringly, taking advantage of how you couldn’t see him.

“she does?” mark asked, tearing his eyes away from the back of your neck to look at the man walking next to him.

he nodded at his question, smiling at how the younger boy seemed so excited to know his girlfriend talked about him. “she always goes on about how much you take care of her and how funny you are, you make her really happy.” and right then and there, mark knew he made a horrible mistake when he said he would help you. there was no way his heart would come out untouched.

before he could open his mouth to answer, you stopped walking and settled by his side “what are you two talking about?”

“nothing, don’t worry about it,” mark smiled, hugging your shoulders and bringing you closer to him. the action took you by surprise, but you settled on his side anyways.

… 

“my parents want to meet you,” you told mark as you sat in front of him in a restaurant you had gone to for lunch. “they got jealous because my cousin met you first.”

mark chuckled softly as he finished eating, shaking his head at the comment “and when are we supposed to meet them?”

“we could go to their house for dinner today, get it over with so you don’t have to keep pretending anymore, if you’re okay with missing hyucks contest, of course.” you shrugged, trying to act disinterested as you tried to figure out why those words didn’t sit right with you.

“uhm, yeah sure” he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes like it always did.

“everything okay?” you asked, tilting your head curiously. “we don’t have to miss it if you don’t want to”

“no, it’s okay, i’m just kinda nervous to meet your parents” he shrugged, attempting to not show the disappointment it caused him to think of your whole charade being over.

“don’t worry, markie, they’ll love you” you gave him a reassuring smile and suddenly all the negative feelings left his mind.

a couple hours later, mark stood next to you in front of your parent’s door, extremely nervous. it didn’t matter to him that he wasn’t your actual boyfriend, he really wanted your parents to like him.

“It's okay, they’ll believe the whole thing” you attempted to reassure him, only making him worse at the reminder that you had no reason to be nervous. you were planning the fake break up already anyways. his thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of fingers tangling with his “they’ll love you.”

and the way your eyes looked at him with such sureness that he couldn’t help to feel like everything would be okay as long as you stood by his side. 

he waited for you to let go of his hand as the door opened, but it never happened. he squeezed it softly as he greeted your parents, making sure to shake their hands with his free one, wanting to hold on for as long as he could.

the night flowed perfectly as your parents practically fell in love with the boy you had brought home. it was weird, really, to be sitting there as mark told them a story about how he got lost at a mirror maze once and ended up at the hospital. he looked so pretty, smiling away as he used his abilities to charm your parents.

but you couldn’t be thinking of that, because it was all fake. he was just doing you a favor, and you couldn’t forget that for a single second or it would be bad.

“anyways, your daughter here made fun of me for about three months straight” he said, swooping your hands to lace his fingers with yours.

“i took care of you, though,” you retorted, laughing softly as you tried to defend yourself.

“true, you did,” he smiled as he brought your hands to his lips, leaving a kiss on the back of yours before diving right back into his conversation.

damn, he was a really good actor.

“you should come to christmas dinner this year” your father suggested as the four of you stood on the doorway.

“i don’t know if he can, dad, he has plans already” you said “right?” you looked at mark, silently hoping that for some miraculous reason he would say no.

“i do” of course “but i’ll gladly cancel them if you want me to be here.” oh?

you looked at him with confusion written all over your face. was he really willing to cancel his plans to play pretend boyfriend with you in christmas?

“let’s talk about it later, yeah?” you asked, looking at him breathlessly. had he always looked at you like he would be willing to give you his world on a silver platter?

the boy nodded before turning back to your parents, greeting them politely before you walked towards his car. the ride back to your apartment was silent, the only sound coming from the radio.

“you don’t have to come, you already canceled on your friends today” you said, voice barely above a whisper as you broke the silence.

“i don’t mind, i’ve spent every christmas with them since i was fifteen.” he mumbled back, afraid to speak too loud in the ambiance you had created. 

“and you would rather break that streak to be with my family?” you questioned, your heart racing slightly at how soft his voice was.

“i would rather break it to spend it with you.” he retorted, and you felt your heart miss a couple of beats as he pulled into the driveway.

“i’ll see you on the twenty fourth, then” you smiled, doing little to hide how endeared you were to his words.

“i’ll pick you up, sweetheart.” he smiled back, nearly making you giggle as you got out of the car.

…

it was finally christmas day, and mark was terrified as he waited for you to walk out of your apartment building so he could drive you both to your parents’ house where he would meet your entire family as your (fake) boyfriend.

“oh, wow” he muttered as he finally saw you. the cozy winter outfit you wore nearly made him faint “you look beautiful”

you bit your flustered smile back as you looked him up and down, taking in how handsome he looked. “you don’t look too bad yourself.”

he thanked you before opening your car door for you, something he had picked up on those last few weeks of pretend dating, allowing himself to look at you for a couple more seconds before closing the door.

“i have to say, with the amount of gossip i’ve heard about your family, i think i'm extremely prepared for tonight” he bragged as he drove towards your destination.

“shut up and drive,” you laughed, rolling your eyes.

the night had gone by better than you expected. your entire family was mesmerized by the boy, and you couldn't help the pride that made your chest swell at the sight of him laughing with your uncles on the other side of the room.

“you really were whipped, aren’t you?” your younger cousin asked as he sat down next to you.

you looked at mark for a couple more seconds before tearing your eyes away from him “yeah” you said, almost breathlessly “i am”

the boy made a disgusted expression, eliciting a soft giggle to tumble past your lips. “he is too, he told me”

wait, what?

“he did?” you asked, unable to hide the surprise that coated your voice. 

“yeah, why are you surprised?” the boy judged “haven’t you been dating for like a year?”

“yes, it’s just a little surprising still” you chuckled awkwardly, trying to diffuse the situation.

“it shouldn’t be, look at how he looks at you” he pointed towards mark, making you look his way. your eyes caught his immediately, betraying the secrecy of his loving stare.

your breath hitched on your throat as mark didn’t look away from you. “sorry, i´ll be back in a minute” you muttered before standing up and walking towards mark. “mind if i steal him for a minute, thanks” you smiled as you grabbed his hand and dragged him away to an empty hall.

“hey, ynnie, whats up?” he asked as you stood in front of him. there was a lovesick smile adorning his face, along with a look you recognized from the night he met your parents.

“maki told me you told him you're whipped for me” you blurted out, and mark’s smile only widened.

“i did” he assured.

“because it would reveal our act if you didn’t” you stated, more for yourself than for him.

“or because i am” he commented, a hand coming up to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“what?” you asked, astonished at the words that had just left his mouth.

“look up for me really quick, will you?” he asked, his voice sounding like honey and only confusing you further. you still looked up, heart stopping at the sight of a mistletoe hanging right on top of you.

you looked back at mark, at his beautiful eyes and his even more beautiful smile and you just couldn’t take it anymore. your hands found place behind his neck as you stood on your tippy toes, joining your lips together in a kiss you both had waited a little too long for.

mark’s hands made their way to your waist, pulling you closer as he felt relief all through his body.

there was no way this was fake.

★ blue's corner ;; i couldn't make a series and not put mark in it, we all know this. this is part of the love actually series that i'm doing with both of my blogs ! ★ taglist ;; @neozon3nha @winwintea @spacejip @dudekiss3r @yizhrt @lyvhie @morkiee @astrasng ★ back to the masterlist. ★ please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!! ★ divider by @fairytopea

© peterm4rker, 2024

[dorabellingham]

Complicated

warning: none

characters: jude x reader

summary: when you're trying to make dinner but he ends up making an unnecessary comment that bothers you

request: yess!

may contain spelling and translation errors!

It was a quiet night in your home, and you and Jude decided to cook dinner together. You were chopping vegetables while Jude stirred a pan on the stove. It was one of those simple and intimate moments that you loved, where the conversation flowed without rushing.

—You’re getting good at this, huh?

Jude commented, watching you wield the knife with precision.

—Only because you didn’t see how many fingers I almost cut off earlier.

You replied with a light laugh.

He laughed, exchanging knowing glances. You loved these moments with your boyfriend, where nothing seemed complicated or distant.

—Do you think we’ll be like this forever?

You asked, almost distracted, as you organized the vegetables.

—Like what?

Jude replied, turning to you.

—I don’t know... so comfortable. Like, even after everything we’ve been through, it seems like we’ve never lost that.

—Of course, babe. You’re my safe place. You always have been.

The comment made you smile, but before you could respond, Jude added something, distracted as he stirred the pan:

—And I’m lucky, because you’re not as complicated as other people I know.

You froze. The words were simple, but they sounded like a blow. It wasn’t what Jude had said, but how it sounded at that moment.

—I’m not complicated?

You asked, trying to hide the hurt tone.

Jude looked up, noticing something strange in your voice.

—That’s not what I meant. It’s just… I don’t know, you’re easier to deal with than a lot of people.

You dropped the knife on the counter, trying to process it. All you could think about were the times you felt like you were a burden to him —especially with your crises and the difficulty in adjusting to life in Madrid. That sounded like confirmation that you needed to try harder not to be a burden.

—Easy to deal with? —You repeated, your voice now lower. —Jude, do you have any idea how that sounds to me?

—Y/n, calm down. That's not what I meant. I just... —He ran his hand through his hair, clearly confused by your reaction. —I just meant that you're amazing and that you make everything seem simpler.

You took a step back, crossing your arms.

—But it's not simple, Jude. I'm not simple. I'm full of problems and insecurities. You know that.

—And I never said that was bad! —Jude exclaimed, getting closer. —Sweetie, you're human, like everyone else. But I love you precisely for who you are.

You looked away, biting your lower lip to hold back the tears. You knew Jude hadn't meant any harm, but his comment brought back all the times you felt inadequate, as if you needed to be "easy" to deserve his love.

—You'll never understand what it's like to feel like that. —You whispered. —Because you’re Jude Bellingham. Everyone loves you effortlessly.

—Hey, hey. —He held your arms gently, forcing you to look at him. —Don’t say that. Everyone can love me as a player, but who I really am… only you know. And you’re the one who makes me feel complete.

You blinked, letting out a stubborn tear.

—It’s just… sometimes I feel like I need to be perfect. That I can’t be a complication in your life.

Jude sighed, pulling you into a hug.

—Babe, you’ve never been a complication. I’m sorry if what I said made you think that. You’re the best thing in my life, and I love even the complicated parts of you.

You were silent for a moment, leaning your head against his chest as you felt the warmth of his embrace.

—I’m sorry for reacting like that. —You murmured. —It’s just that I…

—You don’t have to apologize. —He interrupted, kissing the top of your head. —I was the idiot. I should have thought before I spoke.

You stood there, hugging each other, while the smell of the sauce began to grow stronger. Jude pulled away a little, holding your face with his hands.

—You're perfect for me, Y/n. Not because it's easy, but because it's you.

You nodded, still feeling the weight of your emotions, but also the comfort of his words.

—I love you, Jude.

—I love you too. And please, let me know when I say something stupid again.

You laughed softly, wiping your face with the sleeve of your shirt.

—I think you already know when you say it.

—Fair enough. —He smiled and went back to the stove. —But for the record, I think I burned the sauce.

—Really? —You rolled your eyes, laughing. —I think we both need help in the kitchen.

Jude smiled at you, relieved to see you calmer.

—As long as I have you here, we can burn as many dinners as we need.

And with that, the tension was replaced by laughter and jokes, as you tried to save dinner.

[silentsamlikesham]

Cat Got Your Tongue? - Zosan Temp!Mute Fic

Thank you to @gingeralejasminetea for the following prompt "sanji or zoro somehow becomes temporarily mute and the other just *happens* to be the only one on the crew that’s able to completely accurately interpret their facial expressions/gestures, leading them to be their translator until their voice comes back" I'm not going to lie I did STRUGGLE with having only one of these idiots being able to speak. I made the brave decision to have Sanji lose the ability to talk and like- Zoro is a man of few words :'D. I'm not fully satisified with the ending to this fic, so maybe someday (not soon) I mayyy write a part 2, we'll see. OKAY ENJOY!! **Not Beta Read. Please excuse any and all mistakes**

Words: 4,350

--------------------------------------------------

Sanji tugged at his red checkered scarf, glaring at the faux grass on the Sunny’s deck as he listened to their tiny doctor finish his explanation to the crew. Chopper had gathered the crew to the deck after finishing his check-up on Sanji after the crew’s last fight. The air was tense from the fury radiating from the chef and he couldn’t bring himself to look at either of the crew’s two fabulous ladies to cheer him up, lest he’s met with eyes of pity.  

It was a burst of laughter that broke the silence, the sound reddening Sanji’s face as he turned to glare at the source. Of course, it was the mosshead doubled over the railing, tears streaming down his face as he laughed at Sanji’s expense.  

“Zoro!” Chopper chastised, as Nami slapped the swordsman on the arm.  

Luffy also began to chuckle from where he was perched under the ship’s mast, Sanji slowly dragged his gaze from Zoro to his captain.  

“Sanji, you can still cook meat, right?” Luffy smiled, wide and unapologetic.  

The chef nodded his head slowly, confused by the question before he had an armful of his captain to catch as Luffy catapulted himself straight into him. His stretching arms wrapping tightly around Sanji, but careful not to wring around his neck.  

“Then let’s have a barbeque!” Luffy decided, the crew laughing and cheering as the mood on the ship changed back to its usual chaotic state. 

“Luffy! Don’t squeeze his chest, coughing will be just as bad as talking for his throat.” Chopper wailed, pulling at his Captains foot until Luffy let go of Sanji, unraveling until he snapped back onto the deck.  

“Sorry Chopper.” Luffy smiled, not looking the least bit apologetic.  

“Does that mean dart-brows can’t smoke, Chopper? I bet that would really slow down the healing process.” Zoro grins, reveling in the look of horror creeping across the cook’s face, slowly twisting into rage as he began marching towards Zoro, his foot already smoking.  

The swordsman grinned, his hand going to his nearest hilt as Chopper dived between them.  

“NO!” The little reindeer cried out, tears forming in his eyes as he looked between the two of them, knowing the danger of getting in front of either of them when they were about to spar.  

  “No fighting!” Chopper did his best to keep a wobble out of his voice, relaxing a bit as the two, unwillingly, relaxed their fighting stances. “-and, no smoking.” 

Sanji waved his hands around in frustration, pleading with the tiny doctor with his eyes before running a finger across his neck at Zoro to let him know that the swordsman is dead as soon as he recovers.  

“Sanji, your throat is really swollen...there’s nothing I can do but tell you to rest it.” Chopper bites his lower lip as it trembles, his voice cracking like he’s about to cry. “Please, just a few days, no smoking, no talking, and-” The small doctor turns to meet Zoro’s eye as he finishes “-no fighting. Okay?” 

Sanji looks briefly to the sky, searching the clouds for some strength before he nods at Chopper.  

“Whatever.” Zoro yawns, over the whole thing as he realises there’s no more fun to be had. “Not like Curly-brows ever has much to say anyways.” 

Sanji’s hands curl into fists as Zoro walks by him, flashing him a shit-eating grin as he knows Sanji can’t bite back with his usual banter and shitty nickname.  

“You’ll heal fast, Sanji.” The cook looks down at where Chopper had stopped beside him, looking up at him with his wide eyes and child-like face. “And I’ll check on you every day, so you’ll know when it’s over!” 

Sanji lets out a small sigh through his nose, wanting so badly to comfort the little doctor and tell him ‘I know Chopper, you’ve done all you can.’ Instead, all he can do is pat Chopper’s hat and motion for him to follow Sanji into the kitchen. He can’t comfort the doctor with words, but he can give him some chocolate instead.  

----------------------------------------------------------------- 

Sanji was doing his usual lunch time rounds, dropping drinks and nibbles in front of his different crew mates. He spun out of the kitchen with his customary enthusiasm and excitement. At the last island they’d stocked up on, he’d managed to pick up some local honey and he had spent the afternoon making sweet protein balls out of it, mixing the honey with oats and some with chocolate.  

He skipped over to the ladies first. Robin hiding beneath the cover of an umbrella while Nami lay out in the sun, tanning beneath the relentless rays, her skin sparkling from the sunscreen she’d lathered on her skin.  

Sanji was swooning from the sight alone. His throat was aching, twitching as he blew a heavy breath from his lungs, longing to serenade the ladies with an onslaught of compliments and small talk.  

Instead, as he approached the ladies with his usual twirling and dancing, he could hear the familiar sounds of sniggering and noticed Usopp, Luffy and Chopper hiding nearby. 

“Ooooh Nami-Swannn your skin is as radiant as the sun, let me refresh you with the coolest of drinks and the most divine snacks the new world has ever seen.” Usopp did a terrible impression of Sanji, pretending to hold a cigarette in his fingers as he spoke.  

The impression had Luffy and Chopper cackling and rolling on the floor as Sanji sent daggers through his eyes at them. Robin chuckled at the sight, leaving Sanji deflated and flustered as he left her drink and nibbles in front of her. She smiled up at him though, thanking him with a warm look in her eyes. It was enough to easily snap Sanji back from his mood and had him twirling around Nami again.  

He managed to make his way over to Usopp while the sharpshooter had his back to him, continuing his poor imitation. Sanji felt marginally better as he got to kick the sniper in the back of the head, sending Luffy and Chopper running in fear and leaving Usopp groaning and overreacting on the ground.  

He didn’t even kick him that hard, but still Usopp cried up at him and clung to his leg, begging him to stop.  

Sanji tried to shake him off, anxiously glancing at the tray of food and drink as Usopp unbalanced him, dragging him left and right. Sanji didn’t easily drop a tray, and Usopp wasn’t that strong, but fear made the sniper erratic, and Sanji would probably cry in frustration if his shitty situation with his throat led to any food waste. 

“Oi, Usopp, knock it off. Curly’s gonna kill you if he drops that tray.”  

Sanji froze at the words, startled that he was hearing his thoughts spoken aloud.  

He glanced over to the swordsman leaning against the mast, he’d been convinced Zoro had been asleep in the shade. But now the mosshead was watching the pair through his one eye, the gaze feeling more intense and violating than usual. 

Usopp squeaked in response, throwing himself off Sanji and scampering several feet back from him. Sanji frowned, glaring at Zoro who held his gaze for a mere second before he shut his eye again. Sanji wasn’t used to losing Zoro’s attention so quickly, usually the pair would be foot to blade by now. Even if Zoro had just helped him out, he would have told the Mossball to shut it and keep out of his business and they’d be several bruises deep into an argument by now. 

Instead, Sanji had to swallow the comeback he couldn’t speak and continue upon his deliveries. He handed Usopp his drink with a cold glare, earning himself an apology and flurry of excuses before Usopp insisted on helping him hand the rest out.  

He served Zoro last, as usual, and the idiot must have been using his haki because he didn’t wait for a kick to the head to wake him up. His eye opened as Sanji got close, the distance at which Sanji would have usually insulted him and called him a name to get his attention. Zoro put a hand out for his drink without being asked and accepted his plate of blander, unsweetened protein balls without a word. 

Sanji stared at him, resisting the urge to bite his lower lip in thought as Zoro eventually gave him another glance.  

“What, Curly? Cat got your tongue?” 

Sanji’s frown deepened, his brows knitting together before he let out a tsk and stomped towards the galley. Once inside, he fiddled with the scarf around his neck, loosening it and letting the fabric fall into a long loop. He looked at the dark line of bruises in the reflection of a hanging pan above the stove, willing the purple and blue skin to heal.  

-------------------------------------------- 

It was day three of Sanji’s induced muteness and he felt like he was really starting to lose his mind. He’d never appreciated how often he used his words to convey things, to join in on the fun around the ship and to stand up for himself.  

The last three days had felt like a comical silent movie, chasing Luffy around the ship when he snuck into the galley, rolling his eyes at his ship mates annoying antics and last night, having to throw Usopp from his bed to wake him up to dispose of a spider in the bunk room.  

It was infuriating, it was tiring, and Sanji could feel a headache pulsing behind his eyes from the toll it was all taking. On top of the muteness his sore throat was making it difficult to drink, to sleep, to eat. Pain, Sanji could tolerate, but the hunger pangs he was feeling in his stomach were unnerving.  

Needless to say, Sanji was on edge. In fact, he was beyond the edge. He was clinging onto his sanity by his fingernails and right now, his current predicament might just be the final straw.  

If Sanji cries in the galley because he can’t find the knife Zeff gave him, the one he uses every day, the one that is basically an extension of his hands, then he might just throw himself off the side of the ship.  

He was staring at the kitchen island like he was going mad. His hands moving over the cold marble and brushing over the vegetables that were waiting there to be chopped. 

He’d just had it. How could a knife grow legs and walk away? He started lifting any plates and tea towels around him, sure he must have thrown them on top of it by mistake.  

A hand curled into his fringe, pulling slightly as Sanji let out a huff of pain. He needed a smoke, he needed a cigarette so badly, but he refused to make the healing process go any slower. There was no way he was going through this for more than a few days.  

Right as he was about to bang his head off the marble, someone spoke up from the corner of the room. Sanji flushed red as he jumped, he’d been so engrossed in his search and his poor mood that he hadn’t noticed the Mossball slide onto the couch the far side of the dining table. 

“It’s by the sink, Cook.” Zoro scoffed, folding his arms and tucking his chin against his chest, clearly about to nod off for a nap. He doesn’t usually do so in the galley but one glance at the falling mist of rain outside, and it made sense.  

Sanji stared dumbly at Zoro for a moment. What was the idiot talking about? Beside the sink? He turned his head, his eyes catching the glint of steel as his knife lay just beside the drying rack. He must have left it there when he threw the pans into the sink to soak.  

He looked back to Zoro with a raised brow and a wide eye. How the fuck did he know he was looking for his knife?  

But Sanji couldn’t ask and from the soft snores filling the galley, Zoro wouldn’t have replied anyways.  

Sanji picked up his knife, spinning it gently in his hand as he fiddled with the handle. He chopped up the vegetables in his usual rhythmic routine, but every time he scooped his prep into a bowl, he snuck a glance at the swordsman.  

Since when was Zoro a mind reader? 

------------------------------------- 

By the fifth day, Sanji felt like he was really going insane. No longer because he still couldn’t speak or smoke, but because Zoro was creeping him out. Every time they were in the same room Zoro was making small jabs and comments to Sanji that were almost perfectly in line with the running monologue in Sanji’s head. 

It was unnerving to see the Mosshead so aware of someone else. Usually, Zoro brooded in the corner, unmoving in his preference to exclude himself from most shenanigans and conversations on the ship. Now, Sanji was starting to realise the Mosshead was completely aware of what was happening around him and of his crewmate’s thoughts. At least, he seemed to know exactly what was going on in Sanji’s head. The cook was used to feeling that connection with the Mosshead in battle but for the day-to-day stuff, it was startling. 

The weirdest thing to happen so far, had happened today. The crew had docked at a small island, inhabited by a group that lived in a village on the southern side of the island.  

The log pose was going to take over a day to reset so Luffy had decided they should spend the evening partying on the island and spend a night at a local inn. It hadn’t been an easy thing to arrange with the lovely Nami worried about their budget, but there was no arguing with the captain when he wanted to party, and the rest of the crew were happy to get black out drunk and pass out in a bed that didn’t sway with the ocean.  

They’d gone to the nicest restaurant on the island, mainly because Zoro pointed out that Sanji had his eyes on the building from the moment they found the center of the island. 

That had been strange enough, that Zoro was actively pushing for something Sanji wanted. But the weirdest part was when they had to order. Usually, Sanji would order for most of the crew. He was easily able to tell what each of them would want most from whatever limited menu they had to order from. Tonight, Zoro hadn’t even paused after his order when he added- 

“The curly-brows wants the spicy seafood dish, and a glass of whatever wine will go with it.” 

It wasn’t as refined an answer as Sanji would have given the waitress, but it was close enough to the mark that Sanji’s jaw had unlatched as he stared dumbfounded at the brute. 

“What?” Zoro scoffed when the waitress disappeared into the kitchen, and he noticed the cook’s eyes on him.  

Sanji looked even more pissed off then, wishing more than he had this entire week that he could speak and ask the Swordsman what the fuck was going on.  

Instead, the crew interrupted them with their own chatter and chaos and Sanji was forced to sit back in silence for the following hours.  

It was only when everyone was heading towards the inn that Sanji had a moment to confront the mosshead. He fell into step with him at the back of the group as they all made their way to the inn. Zoro barely even glanced at him as they walked, and Sanji could feel the tick of annoyance on the back of his head as Zoro stayed silent for nearly the entire stroll.  

As they arrived at the inn, Sanji grabbed Zoro’s arm and physically held him back from following the crew through the main entrance,  

“What?” Zoro groaned, glancing longingly at where a bed was waiting for him. “What do you want, Cook? Not like you have anything to say.” 

Sanji continued to glare at him, his gaze hardening at the callous words.  

Zoro eventually glared back, letting out a frustrated tsk as the silence stretched on and Sanji did nothing more than angrily huff at him.  

���Look, are we going to fight and not tell Chopper or are you going to let me go the fuck to sleep?” 

Sanji’s frown deepened. Surprisingly, he hadn’t been thinking of kicking the moron. He looked away, almost embarrassed by his persistence when he knew he couldn’t voice his frustration. But eventually his glare returned to the Marimo. 

He crossed his arms across his chest and tapped his foot insistently, giving Zoro an unamused look. The Mossball just raised his brows in response, like he was egging Sanji to try speak his mind.  

“What? What do you want Cook? I’m not a mind reader.” 

Sanji groaned angrily at this, waving his arms at Zoro, trying to convey this is exactly what Sanji was trying to speak to him about.  

“What? You think I’m a mind reader?” 

Sanji just glared in silence now, pursing his lips further.  

“Is this about dinner? I should have known you’d be fucking weird about it. You order for me all the time, what’s your problem, did you not like your food?” 

Sanji sighed, running a hand through his hair and now deciding it was easier not to look at the Mosshead. He stared stubbornly at one of the lamps hanging off the wall of the inn as he tried to come up with a way to respond.  

“That’s not it...” Zoro grumbled, earning Sanji’s attention again as the Cook whipped around to look at him.  

Zoro studied him properly then, his one good eye analyzing Sanji’s body language from his feet to his face. It was intimidating, almost embarrassing to have Zoro’s eyes so intensely focused on him, inspecting every shift in Sanji’s stance and ever bounce of his brow. 

“Curly, I don’t fucking know what you’re so annoyed about. It’s not my fault you can’t speak.” Zoro sighed, looking tired all of a sudden.  

The first mate’s eyes went to Sanji’s scarf. It wasn’t an item of clothing that was remotely needed given the climate of the island, but Sanji had refused to take it off. He didn’t want his cremates staring at the dark reminder of the bruising around his crushed throat. That part, Zoro could understand. Not wanting to show a clear weakness to a crew that often relied on you. He didn’t know why the Cook was bothering him specially though, forcing him into an awkward standstill outside the inn.  

At this stage, the pair will be forced to room together, something both of them actively avoided and argued against. By now, the rest of the crew would be buried deep beneath rented duvets as they drifted off to sleep. No one would be willing to swap or listen to Zoro complain.  

Sanji sighed loudly in response, looking at Zoro with what he hoped was an exasperated expression. Then, it came to him, the one thing he never needs words for when dealing with Zoro.  

He motioned for Zoro to stand still and then made his way around the oaf. He stopped behind Zoro, facing away from the brute and leaning his back against the others. 

He can feel the muscles in Zoro’s back tense as he leans his weight against him, can hear the sharp intake of breath the Mossball draws in. Sanji raises his leg gently, the same way he would in a fight and on instinct Zoro’s hand goes to his hilts. As Sanji changes his stance and turns slightly to the right, Zoro automatically reacts, dropping a foot back to cover the left side Sanji opens. 

They continue this strange waltz for almost a minute, Sanji almost losing himself in the rhythm as he practices his fight style for the first time since the crews fight several days ago. He pushed himself with a wide arcing kick and as he drew his knee up, he rattles his lungs, forcing an unexpected haggard cough from his throat and ruining his balance as he flinched from the pain of it.   

He sways dangerously to the side, his shoulder slipping off Zoro’s and for the first time since he was a kid he feels himself falling from his stance. Before he can crumble to the ground, Zoro shifts behind him, twisting half around until a large hand wraps around Sanji’s bicep, steadying him and stopping his fall.  

Sanji blinks owlishly up at the swordsman, holding his breath as he meets a curious but annoyed stare. His face heats up and Sanji hopes the lamp light hides whatever colour is dusting his cheeks. 

Sanji doesn’t rush to fix his stance, instead he lets himself hang by Zoro’s grip and brings a finger up to poke pointedly at Zoro’s chest. This is what I’m talking about, shitty Swordsman. He tries to convey the thought in his eyes, in the way he let himself hang there, unfazed if Zoro was going to drop him. It wouldn’t be out of character for the Mosshead, but he knew Zoro would understand the significance of the moment and wouldn’t do it.  

He was proven right by Zoro grunting and averting his gaze, a faint blush on his cheeks now complimenting Sanji’s own. He tugged at Sanji’s arm and eventually pulled the Cook to stand upright again, dropping his arm like it burned.  

“Cook.” Zoro sighed tiredly, wiping a hand over his face and pushing his knuckles against his eyelids in the hope of focusing his mind a bit. “Are you freaking out because I can read you like an open book?” 

Sanji snorted at the phrase, crossing his arms tightly across his chest in distress. Zoro could not read him like a book, Sanji was not that straight forward a man. Zoro clearly was just...just...fuck, what was Zoro doing? 

“Curly, you’re not fucking subtle. You express every little emotion in that frantic head of yours the second you think or feel anything.” 

Sanji scoffs in disagreement, his eyes narrowing at Zoro’s words as he fiddles uncomfortably with a thread on his suit’s sleeve. The Swordsman was talking nonsense. 

“Like right now, you act like you don’t believe a word I’m saying but you’re ripping your sleeve apart because you know I’m right and that makes you freak out and fidget with the nearest thing possible.” 

Zoro takes a step closer to Sanji then. His words force Sanji to drop his sleeve and rest his hands by his side, his fingers twitching at the loss. He glares up at the ever so slightly taller man and meet’s his eye without hesitation. Their chests are almost touching, their foreheads inches from one another and Sanji is swallowing every bit of panic swelling in his chest because if he backs down from Zoro now, then it’s going to seem like Zoro is right. 

Which he’s not. He’s not freaking out over what Zoro is saying. There’s no way it’s true, Sanji may have his heart on his sleeve for the ladies but otherwise he’s a secretive guy. He’s hidden his upbringing from the crew, hiding his surname from the entire world, fooling even those who print the bounty posters. He’d lied effortlessly in the past, getting the crew out of some tough spots. Sanji was clever, he could be sly, secretive, a mystery.  

No one knew what was going on in his head. They might think they do but no one could guess what he was really thinking most of the time. Except apparently, Zoro could. Zoro who hated Sanji most days and who he had thought only understood him when Sanji’s shoe was buried in the side of his head.  

“You can deny it all you’d like, Sanji.” Sanji choked on his own spit, coughing brutally as Zoro just grinned, leaning in closer as he reveled in catching the Cook further off guard. 

“But I see you. I see right through the bullshit.”  

With that, Zoro flashed him a chesire grin, ruffled a hand through Sanji’s hair and brushed past the red-faced cook without another glance.  

“Don’t wake me up when you come into the room, or I’ll skewer you.” 

The sound of the inn door opening and closing echoed through the empty street. Sanji stayed standing in the center of the cobblestone lane, trying to catch his breath after his mini coughing fit and doing his best to will the flush from his face.  

Maybe he could blame that part on the alcohol.  

I see you.  

Sanji groaned, grabbing a fistful of his hair as he doubled over on the street. What the fuck did that mean? Also, using his real name like that? The bastard had to have known that would get to him.  

What an asshole. There’s no way Zoro was intelligent enough to understand a fraction of how Sanji felt or thought about things. He was just getting lucky and using the coincidence to rile the cook up. You can deny it all you’d like- That fucking smug- Sanji wished he could scream at the twinkling stars above. 

Sanji spent far too long loitering in the street before he could force himself to march into the inn and face sharing a room with the guy. Hopefully, he was asleep by now, and Sanji knew for a fact he’d be gone long before the oaf woke up in the morning.  

He decided the next time he was willing to face the Swordsman, was when he could speak again. Then he could give the asshole a piece of his mind, put the brute in his place and let him know just how wrong he was about everything.  

That, or he could just smother him in his sleep.  

That would be easier than admitting to himself that his entire perception of the brute had been flipped on its head tonight.  

[nellielsss]

⋆꙳•❅‧₊⋆☃︎‧ Cԋɾιʂƚɱαʂ αƚ ƚԋҽ Fυʂԋιɠυɾσʂ!

Summary: It's Christmas-time at the Fushiguro household! Although not all the members of the house have the best impression of the holiday, everything is still merry and bright--no thanks to your grump of a husband and even more grump of a son... Ft: Toji Fushiguro & Megumi Fushiguro (reader is Mamaguro) Note: I am so incredibly sorry for going missing for months!! College A. Kicked my ass majorly, and B. made me extremely depressed, but we're back! ... for now. CW: light religious imagery, nothing too major! Pure fluff (I'm way too tired to do smutmas...)

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆ Toji never truly gave two shits about Christmas. The Zen'in Clan was anything but merry and bright, and until you and Megumi came into his life, he saw no reason to celebrate the holiday--that, and it was technically a christian holiday, and god knows Toji wasn't no saint who deserved presents.

Those were the two reasons he gave when it came to not celebrating Christmas, but there was a deeper, more painful reason that he wasn't fond of sharing...

Christmas reminded him of everything he didn't have.

He didn't have a loving family, he didn't have a warm home to decorate for Christmas, and he never had enough money to even buy gifts to begin with. He never had more than $100 in his checking account until he got a wife and a kid, even with all the money he earned from being a highly paid assassin. He also hasn't seen his family since he was 18 and was free of their legal guardianship, so suffice to say: he didn't give two shits about Christmas.

And that was where you came in!

Christmas was probably one of the best holidays in the whole entire world for you. It was fun and bright, always full of love and laughter and general excitement for you. Even if not every Christmas was great, you still did the best you could year round.

When Toji saw you decorating the giant tree that you'd (miraculously) set up all by yourself in the living room, he nearly spit out his drink. What the hell was an 8-foot pine tree doing in his living room? But when he saw the joy and excitement on your face, and Megumi's little hands playing with the ornaments you were going to put up, he bit his tongue.

Eh, sure, why not? Let the wife have her fun. Happy wife, happy life. What he didn't expect was for the antics to ramp up with every passing year.

Each year, the decorations would become bigger and better. There were more ornaments on the trees, more candles lit, more nutcrackers, more garland--more everything. It was like Hallmark came and threw up in your home and left. He knew he was in too deep when you swapped out the bedsheets for Christmas sheets.

He couldn't lie; he was also starting to go all out himself, at least on the presents. He found himself hitting up his handler, Shiu, for more jobs so that he could get Megumi and his little wife the stuff that they deserved. He'd never been showered in anything but hatred and disgust his entire life, and he'd be damned if his son went through the same shit he did.

Which is what led to Christmas morning, when said wife and said son were opening what they got.

"Look what Santa got you!" you chirped, handing a box to little 5-year old Megumi, who was trying to keep his best nonchalant grimace on his face (don't mind him--he's just going through an angsty teen phase).

"You don't have to say it was Santa, mom, I know it was you and dad," he answered while opening it.

That made you deadpan and go "ehh?" while looking at Toji. "Did that little punk from your homeroom say something to you again? Is he putting these ideas in your head?"

"Nah," he answered, opening up the stack of books that he was currently into. "It's hard not to confuse reindeers for dad's heavy footsteps, but I know reindeers wouldn't survive the Tokyo traffic."

"Hey, watch it, punk," Toji grumbled, reaching out to rub his knuckles into Megumi's head, making him whine and fuss.

Despite your son knowing that Santa Claus is, in fact, his mom and his dad, the little scene made you smile and laugh. You even reached out to take a photo of the little interaction between the two of them and save it for later. "Just hurry up and unwrap your presents, Toji. Let's see if daddy ended up with coal, hmm?" You teased, handing him a box with a smile on your pretty face.

"Yeah, I wonder what Santa got me," Toji said jokingly. His big hands effortlessly ripped off the pretty wrapping paper you so carefully wrapped, and he was met with the name "Rolex" staring back at him. His smile dropped for a second in shock, and he touched the wooden box as if it didn't truly exist. "Babe, you didn't have to-"

"Now I know you've got simple tastes, and I know you're a simple guy, but try it on! I'm sure you'll love it. Besides, I got a raise at work," you encouraged with a wink.

Toji opened the wooden box to see a beautiful silver Rolex watch with a green dial--perfectly matching his green eyes.

He was speechless for a second, earning a proud smile from your part. "I outdid myself, didn't I?" you giggled proudly.

"This is... I've never had somethin' like this before," he said, taking the watch out of the box. "Thank you so much, babe--this means so much to me."

"It's no problem- oof!" He cut you off by wrapping his big arms around your waist and pulling you in, all but squeezing you to death. He then put a kiss on your face and let go of you slightly. "It's n-no problem, really... although... those hugs of yours will give me problems."

Toji simply chuckled and handed you a box as well. "Now it's my turn to spoil my pretty wife," he retorted with a confident grin on his face.

His ogre of a dad calling his princess of a mom his 'pretty wife' earned a sideways grimace from Megumi while he flipped through his books, but he didn't say anything.

"I wonder what Santa got me," you wondered, mimicking his earlier words. You eagerly unwrapped the bow, took off the wrapping paper, and the words "Louis Vuitton" stuck out to you. "Toji, this is..."

"Yup," he said with a cheeky grin, puffing his chest out proudly. "Saw you eyein' this bag like it was your last meal, figured that meant you wanted it."

You slid the top off the box and gasped in excitement and childlike wonder. 6 years into your marriage, and you were still the same girly and excitable woman he first met. "Oh my god, a rainbow Louis!" You held it up with both hands and eyed it like it was, in fact, your last meal.

It was a black multicolor Louis Vuitton Alma bag, complete with a Hello Kitty keychain (that he took the liberty of picking out for you). "Oh, Toji!" You threw your arms around his neck and all but tackled him off the couch, and you pressed kisses all over his stubbled face. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love it so much!"

Toji grinned from ear-to-ear and simply patted you on the back while chuckling deeply. "Hey, only the best for my girl."

While you pressed kisses all over his face and hugged him tightly, Megumi looked over and grimaced once again. "Get a room, you two. And get off my mom, you ogre."

"Aw, shut yer trap, ya little grinch," Toji reached out and pulled his son into the hug, both arms wrapped around his beloveds. "I'll be damned if someone interrupts my time with either of you."

Despite Megumi's growing complaints and whines about wanting to be let go, you couldn't stop yourself from smiling and hugging Megumi as well. "Is my little Gumi mad about getting some hugs?" You asked the little boy, making him sigh dramatically and give up. He begrudgingly hugged the both of you, and he couldn't lie--getting a hug like this wasn't so bad. Not that the little sea urchin would ever admit that, of course. He had a reputation to uphold.

Looking up from his hug and loosening his grip on the both of you, he looked around at everything in the room, at the life he built for himself. He had a cozy home, presents under the tree, a beautiful wife and an amazing son. Toji truly was a simple man at heart, because this was all he needed.

"This is all a man needs to be happy," he muttered to himself with a slight smile decorating his face.

Christmas might've been rough for Toji growing up, but those days were behind him. Now, he had his loving family, and that was all a man needed to be happy.

© nellielsss on tumblr - get your own shit bitches | ca. 12/26/2024

[novalityy]

No going back.

⋆·˚ ༘*🔭 In which a call is way more concerning than it seemed.⋆·˚ *🔭

Warnings *ੈ✩‧₊˚ - Blood, fighting, arguments, framing, crying, torture, taskforce 141 being mean, angst, comfort later.

Call of duty taskforce 141 x reader.

Hi, lol i'm back. Sorry I deleted my blog all of a sudden. I had to go for a long time, it's been a year? I'm going to rewrite the original story since i kindaa... deleted them..IM SORRY.

Blood trickled from your forehead, warm and sticky, as the dull ache in your skull pulsed with your racing heartbeat. The throbbing in your head was intense, but it paled in comparison to the crushing weight of betrayal in your chest. You groaned, instinctively trying to lift a hand to your temple, only to find your wrists bound tightly together. The rough bite of the restraints against your skin pulled you fully into the present. Forcing your eyes open, you took in your surroundings. The room was unmistakable—your base’s interrogation chamber.

Empty, save for you.

Your mind raced, piecing together the fragmented memories of how you ended up here. When you answered Price’s call this morning, this was the last place you expected to find yourself.

The morning had started innocuously enough. Your phone buzzed insistently, dragging you from the haze of sleep. Grumbling, you fumbled for it under your pillow, blindly swiping to answer.

“Hello?” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep.

Silence.

You pulled the phone away to glance at the screen. Price. His name stared back at you, ominous and foreboding.

“Price?” you tried again, sitting up now.

His voice, when it came, was clipped and cold. “I expect you at the base in 30 minutes.”

Before you could respond, the line went dead. You stared at the phone, unease curling in your stomach. Price was rarely one for pleasantries, but the venom in his tone was unmistakable.

Shaking off the lingering fog of sleep, you swung your legs out of bed and padded to the bathroom. The mirror reflected the toll of your last mission—dark circles under your eyes, a faint bruise along your jaw. You sighed, splashing cold water on your face before pulling on a pair of blue jeans and a plain white shirt.

Breakfast could wait. The urgency in Price’s voice left little room for delay. Grabbing your keys, you locked up and drove to base, the gnawing anxiety in your gut growing stronger with every mile.

As you arrived, the atmosphere was palpably different. Conversations hushed as you walked past, and familiar faces turned away, avoiding your gaze. The unease in your stomach churned into something darker.

By the time you reached Price’s office, your nerves were frayed. Knocking on the door, you pushed it open and froze. Four men were inside, their expressions grim. Gaz wouldn’t meet your eyes, staring down at his feet. Soap’s usual easygoing demeanor was absent, his jaw set tightly. Ghost loomed in the corner, his unreadable mask doing little to hide the tension radiating from him. And Price… Price’s eyes burned with something you couldn’t quite name but feared all the same.

“So?” you asked, your voice wavering despite your efforts to keep it steady. “You called me here. What’s going on?”

Price exhaled a cloud of smoke, his cigar nearly crushed in his grip. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and dangerous. “Drop the act. Tell me everything. Now.”

Confusion twisted your features. “What are you talking about?”

Price’s response was immediate and explosive.

He slammed his hand down on the desk, the force rattling the items atop it.

“I AM NOT IN THE MOOD FOR GAMES, OPERATOR! CONFESS, AND I MIGHT SPARE YOU HALF OF WHAT’S COMING!”

The words hit you like a physical blow. Operator. Not your name. Whatever this was, it was serious.

You glanced at the others, searching for an ally, but found none. Even Soap looked away when your eyes met his.

“Please,” Soap said softly, his voice almost pleading. “Just tell him. It’ll be worse if you don’t, bonnie.”

Your throat tightened. “Tell him what?” you demanded, anger starting to edge into your voice. “If this is some sick joke, it’s not funny. I don’t know what you think I’ve done, but—”

The door creaked open, cutting you off. A young cadet stepped inside, tall and blonde, his sharp blue eyes locking onto you with cold calculation. Recognition flickered—you’d seen him around the base, but you’d never exchanged more than a few words.

Price gestured to him. “Tell her.”

The cadet’s voice was steady, rehearsed. “I have proof that you’ve been leaking critical intel to Makarov.”

The room spun. You stared at him, then at the others, waiting for someone to laugh, to call this out for the absurdity it was. But no one did. Instead, Ghost’s voice cut through the silence, cold and sharp.

“We believe him.”

Your gaze snapped to him, disbelief written across your face. “Simon…”

“Don’t call me that,” he growled. “We’re not that familiar anymore.”

The words were a knife to the chest. You turned to Price, desperation creeping into your tone. “Show me the proof.”

He slammed a file onto the desk. You snatched it up, flipping through the pages. The evidence was damning—emails, login records, reports. It painted a picture so convincing you almost doubted yourself. Almost.

But the dates didn’t line up. The locations didn’t match. It was sloppy work, something you’d never do if you were guilty.

You threw the file back onto the desk. “You seriously think I did this?”

“Yes,” came the unanimous response.

Anger and heartbreak warred within you. “You’ve known me for years! You’re taking the word of some cadet over me?”

Gaz and Soap stepped forward, gripping your arms as you surged toward Price.

“Let me go!” you shouted, struggling against them. “You can’t seriously believe this!”

Price’s voice was ice. “Take her to the room.”

Panic clawed at you as they dragged you down the hall. “No! This is a mistake! I didn’t do it!”

They shoved you into the interrogation chamber. Before you could regain your footing, a fist connected with your face, sending you sprawling. You looked up to see Ghost towering over you, his eyes like flint.

“Couldn’t even wait to strap me down?” you spat, blood dripping from your lip.

“You’re a traitor,” he said flatly. “If it were up to me, you’d already be dead.”

The words shattered something inside you. He hauled you up by your hair, ignoring your struggles, and strapped you into the chair.

Price entered, knife glinting in his hand. “Last chance,” he growled.

“I didn’t do it,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face.

The blade plunged into your thigh, and you screamed.

The betrayal, more than the pain, was unbearable.

＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚

MAN I STRUGGLED, i hope i did well....ty ly

[bisexualtwinkk]

bff vi!arcane

queer! fem reader x vi from arcane

summary: you and vi are really close best friends, but she doen't know something quit important about you.

a/n: I can't get vi out of my mind.

it's almost impossible to be best friends for more than 5 years and not be close. you and vi went through a lot of fucked up situations together, being there for each other every day, getting to the point of living together after finishing college. some of your and her friends find it kinda suspicious, teasing both of you every time about being in love. everyone could see the way vi looked at you, with glistening eyes, and how you would do everything to make her happy and safe, from cooking her favorite food to take care of her wounds when she fought with random people when you two went out from drinks. but vi and you were oblivious of these things, continuing to believe you acted like a normal pair of best friends.

"I think I need a nap, vi" you yawned, feeling your eyes growing tired.

"my god, cupcake, can you at least cover your big mouth?" vi stood up, grabbing your arm to get you out of the couch.

"big my ass" she looked you up and down, with a smirk on her face, entering your room.

"I mean, it kinda is"

"that's why everyone think that we are a couple, vi! you're such a tease" you laid down under a blanket, moving closer to the wall, "big spoon or little spoon?"

"yeah, right, I'm the one asking about being cuddled or being the one who cuddles, genius" vi moved closer to you, turning around and grabbing your free arm, placing it on her waist, "which, by the way is a stupid question, I prefer being the little spoon, you should know it by now"

a laugh left you lips, getting even closer to vi, your faced buried in her neck, breathing slowly, "right, sorry about that" you squeezed her a little tight.

"does it bother you? the couple stuff, I know some people can feel uncomfortable and shit" her back got stiffer, almost like she was afraid of the answer.

"oh god, no, never"

"okey, I just thought it may be weird for a straight woman, that's all" your eyes got bigger and a loud laugh interrupted the silence of the room. "why are you laughing, you weirdo?"

"You must be joking!" vi turned around, almost being completely under your body, "vi, you really think I'm straight? like, heterosexual?" you whispered, a big smile decorated your face, looking at violet like the just said the most strange thing in the world.

"yeah?" her face showed how confused she was, "you are not? I mean, you didn't say you weren't, how would I know?" her eyes wonder your face, looking confused by how entertained you were by the situation.

"I'm not straight, vi, that's outdated" your finger tapped on her nose, getting on your old position again. "I'm queer, I think, at least, I just know I'm not straight." your fingers played with her shirt, "what about you?"

"haha, you are so funny, cupcake" vi closed her eyes, an involuntary smile forming on her face.

"we can talk about boys latter, if you want"

"oh, yeah, we can do that, pretty"

[30somethingautisticteacher]

Christmas Reconciliation

In case anyone was wondering how Buck and Tommy's Christmas is going today 😆🥰

****

The warm glow of Christmas morning filled Maddie and Chim's living room. Buck sank into the couch, surrounded by the aftermath of gift-opening chaos, crumpled wrapping paper littering the floor

Jee Yun sat cross-legged on the floor, completely absorbed in her new toys.

"Hey, little brother. You doing ok?" Maddie asked, her voice soft with sisterly concern.

"Oh uh yeah. It's Christmas. Why wouldn't I be?" Buck responded, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

"Buck," Maddie said in a warning tone. "You're staring at that phone awfully hard. What's up?"

"Connor sent me a Christmas text with a picture of him, Kameron, and Simon," Buck said, holding out his phone and showing the image to Maddie.

"Wow, he really does look a lot like you," Maddie observed, taking in the details of the photograph.

"Yeah, he does," Buck agreed. His voice softened, tinged with a deep, aching sadness. "I guess I'm just feeling jealous. I want that. I want to be a Dad on Christmas morning. I want to make Christmas breakfast and wear matching Christmas pajamas."

He paused, his eyes distant. "I saw that future. I could see it as clear as day. Me and Tommy snuggled up on the couch with two kids, drinking hot cocoa and watching a fire burn in the fireplace. And now? My future is just a blank slate."

"Maybe that's a good thing?" Maddie offered gently. "Full of possibilities."

"I don't want possibilities," Buck said, his voice trembling with raw emotion. "I want Tommy."

"Oh, Buck," Maddie said, pulling him into a hug.

She caught Chimney's eyes over Buck's head and nodded.

Buck let himself be held by his sister for a few more minutes before standing and taking a deep breath. "Okay, that's enough of that. It's time to ice my cinnamon rolls." He headed to the kitchen and fell into his chosen form of distraction. His focus was so complete he nearly missed the knock on the door.

"Hey, Buck?" Chim called out, a hint of something suspiciously like excitement in his voice. "I think Santa had one more gift for you today."

Buck wiped his hands on a dish towel, a puzzled look crossing his face as he walked toward the door.

"Tommy," Buck whispered.

"Merry Christmas, Evan. Can we talk?"

Buck nodded, unable to form words. Tommy looked worn and tired but still devastatingly handsome. Buck's heart skipped a beat as he looked into those deep blue eyes.

"Why don't you two go have a chat on the patio?" Maddie said.

"Thanks, Maddie," Tommy replied. He and Buck walked through the house and out the back door, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them.

"Why are you here, Tommy?" Buck asked, the words coming out more harshly than he meant for them to.

"I miss you," Tommy whispered.

"What?" Buck said, confusion and hope warring in his voice.

"I miss you, Evan. I miss you. I miss you so damn much that it hurts. I'm not sleeping, I'm barely eating. My captain even temporarily pulled me from air support because he said I'm not safe to fly in this condition." Tommy took in a deep, ragged breath. "I am so sorry that I broke us."

"Then why? Why did you do it? Why did you leave me? I wanted it all with you. I was willing to give you everything, and you just walked away," Buck said, his voice a mixture of pain and desperation.

"You don't know me, Evan. Not really," Tommy said, vulnerability seeping through his defensive words.

"And whose fault is that?" Buck challenged. "I want to know you. All of you. Not just the shiny cool guy that you let the world see. I want it all. And there were times that you trusted me enough to show me glimpses."

"I'm a mess," Tommy murmured.

"Hello! Have you met me?" Buck replied, a hint of humor breaking through the tension. "I don't care about that. You were my mess. We were each other's messes."

"Do you think there's any chance-" Tommy trailed off, leaving the possibility hanging between them.

"You're it for me, Tommy, and I'm sorry if that scares you, but it's true. I love you, and you are my endgame. Do you think maybe you can try to see me as yours?" Buck said, his eyes filling with tears.

"Oh, baby," Tommy said, gently wiping away the tears as they began to spill down Buck's cheeks. "I love you too, and I am never letting you go again."

They kissed gently at first, but then with more heat, pouring out everything they had been holding back.

"Ahem," The two men broke apart as Chimney appeared in the doorway, a knowing smile on his face.

"Now that that's all settled. How about some Christmas breakfast?"

They grinned as Buck grabbed Tommy's hand intertwining their fingers, and steered him inside.

They still had lots of work to do to repair the cracks in their relationship, but it was a start. And Buck knew that they were just going to get stronger because they were in love - messy, complicated, beautiful love, actually.

[stvrnioloslvt]

bestfriends? - matt sturniolo [pt.2]

genre: fluff with a tiny bit of angst / t.w.: none / check out all the other ficmas '24 fics in the masterlist / pt.1 here

③

there were a couple events in the past that made you think that matt felt something for you, even just a tiny bit, like that time you were so hungover after their birthday party that he tucked you in in his bed, kissing your forehead goodnight; or like that time he went up to you while you were studying, massaging your tense shoulders and neck; or the countless times he would slap your thigh as a joke while he was driving, giving it a little squeeze after, and the countless times he would feed you his food, or hand you his water bottle to drink out of.

a lot of times you brushed them off as "friendly interactions," like the type of interactions that people who kiss their bestfriend would probably have. then they grew even more intimate, like sharing cutlery, so you assumed that he saw you like a sister. and then they came at a point where it was undeniable, but you were both so scared and in denial. yet you would always find a way to snuck into his arms, fitting snugly in his embrace, and he would always find an excuse to call you pet names such as "sweetheart" and "darling".

but he was your bestfriend, and sometimes bestfriends act like this too, right?

and that's how you found yourself sprawled on your bed, screaming frustrated in your pillow, hoping that no neighbour would knock on your door to check on you or even worse — call the police. yeah, that would be pretty embarrassing. "cause what the actual fuck would i even tell them, 'oh hey officer, sorry for traumatising my neighbours i was just crashing out cause i like my bestfriend, hope you have a nice day!' like... wait, am i fucking talking to myself out loud? nah i'm going insane, there's no other explanation."

you stopped yourself in your tracks, not having even noticed that in the middle of your monologue you had gotten up from your bed and started to walk around on circles like a madman, and watched as the screen of your phone lit up with a new notification from matt.

you felt your stomach twist and turn with guilt as you watched the screen go back to black, knowing that you had been ignoring him for hours at this point — not because you were mad or anything like that, but because for the last 24 hours every time you opened tiktok your fyp was flooded by edits of you two, of your interactions, of that little smile that you hadn't seen in person the other day making your heart jump in your ribcage, threatening you to rip your flesh open just to escape your body.

finally, you decided that it wasn't fair for the boy to get ignored like that, so with shaky hands you unlocked your phone and opened his chat.

❛❛dumbass💙❞ ⑫

⤷ y/n

⤷ y/n

⤷ hellooo

⤷ you dead?

⤷ were you abducted by the ufos?

⤷ nah i'm serious where are you

⤷ i'm getting worried

⤷ sweetheart please, i know you have your phone in hand, is everything alright?

⤷ have i done something?

⤷ are you mad? :(

⤷ mr.wrinkleton says that he misses you

⤷ nah i'm done i'm coming over

your brows furrowed at the last message: surely he wasn't serious, right? right?

just then a soft knock echoed in the house, making you yelp startled.

"ain't no way..." you whispered to yourself as you walked towards the front door, opening it just to find a rather confused and worried matt looking at you from head to toe.

you stood frozen at the door, not knowing what to say or what to do, your face probably paler than ever.

"where the fuck —" he started, sass and annoyance dripping from his tone, "were you, miss?"

"i-i was sleeping i'm sor‐"

"cut the bullshit, you've been ignoring me since you went out last night."

he was annoyed. oh he was so fucking annoyed, like you have never seen him before in more than ten years of friendship and that scared you, your legs shaking under you, the hand that opened the door holding a death grip on the knob even if sweaty.

he must have sensed your uneasiness cause he gave you one last good look before taking a deep breath in and slowly exhaling, moving a step closer to you as his hands grabbed gently your shoulders, lightly nudging you inside so that he could close the door behind him.

tears prickled at your eyes at the thought of having made him angry, but you tried hard to fight them back. however, matt didn't miss the way your eyes turned watery, the way you bit your lip to keep it from wobbling.

"i- baby, what's wrong?" he cooed, pulling you in a hug, stroking your hair slowly. "what's happening, sweet girl? you can talk to me, you know that." his hand took ahold of you chin, gently moving your head so that he could look at your face. he tenderly caressed your cheek, wiping with his thumb a tear that had managed to escape.

"nothing," you whispered, sniffling faintly and rubbing your eyes in order to conceal those tears. matt's arms unfolded from around you, firmly grabbing your wrists and pulling them away from your eyes.

"don't. i've already seen them, and i want to know what's happening. if that means that you need to cry, then do it, you know that i won't judge."

you choked on a sob, finally breaking down. you buried your face in matt's shirt as you released years of fears, confusion and hurt, knowing that at that point you were at the final stage before ruining everything. matt's arms snuck around you, picking you up and taking you to your room, delicately placing you on your bed. he laid beside you, stroking the strands of hair that fell on your face away from your eyes, wiping away the tear strands that were drying on your cheeks.

"what's wrong pretty girl" he asked softly, his tone laced with care and worry. he placed a loving kiss on your forehead, intertwining your fingers before kissing gently each digit.

you watched silently the scene, your throat burning because of all the things that were bubbling up, ready to come out.

"that's – that's what's wrong," you croaked out, watching as matt gave your pinky finger one last peck. the boy's brows furrowed in confusion, pulling back slightly. "you don't like it?"

"no, no, that's not the point... they are right."

"who's right?"

"everyone!" you snapped, sitting up abruptly on the bed. matt followed your example right after. "your fans, your brothers, your friends, my friends, everyone is right!"

"baby i'm not following you right now-"

"what are we?"

the pressure of the question weighted heavily upon you. everything froze in the moment, even time. there, you finally had done that. you had ruined years and years of friendship in a second. you watched intently as matt's expression fell in one of unease, his mind working overtime to find a good answer.

"i-we- what are you even talking about, y/n?"

"i'm talking about the fact that everyone is seeing something that we are not. i'm talking about the fact that bestfriends do not do what we do. i tried finding answers, but none of them make sense. i'm talking about the fact that even your own family, your own blood and flesh is hinting that there is something more going on. everyone, and i mean everyone that i know does think the same. except us, apparently – except...you."

matt shook his head, a nervous chuckle coming from the back of his throat. "you don't know what you're talking about," he mumbled, over and over again, getting up from the bed and pacing around the room, much like you not even an hour before.

"what do you mean 'i don't know what i'm talking about'? everyone sees it! everyone!" you screamed, jumping up to your feet to face your bestfriend who was actively having a major crash out.

your hands were shaking uncontrollably by your side, much like everything else in you. your whole system was running off adrenaline, pure and unadulterated, preparing you to flight off the scene if things got worse.

"no. what you don't see is that you've been the blind one this whole fucking time. i've been trying. all these years, i've been trying and trying and you never once acknowledged it. not a single time."

"wait what‐"

"i love you! i fucking love you! you're right, we do not act like bestfriends do, cause you're not a bestfriend to me. you're more, you're something so much more precious than a friend and you're so fucking stupid and i'm so mad at you cause all these years i've been trying to make a move and each time you act like your other fucking friends treat you the same way and it's pissed me off more times than i can recount but at the same time i didn't wanna be too straightforward cause i had no idea if you felt the same way or not and i didn't wanna risk it." he chocked out the last sentence, his face red from having spoken so fast and so much with little breath in his lungs. he breathed in, relaxing his shoulders. you observed how his whole body relaxed at the confession, how it looked like a real weight was lifted off his shoulders.

you mouth fell open at the sudden confession, your head spinning from all the emotions that were washing over you. you sat back on the bed, grabbing the sheets to ground yourself. you tried to talk multiple times, failing. instead, you looked like a dying fish.

matt dropped to his knees in front of you, cradling your face in his hands. "please," he whispered, his icy eyes silently begging you, "say something."

"i- i fucking hate you. made me crash out multiple times just to find out that you love me? do you know how many times i've lost sleep over this? just cause the uncertainty wouldn't let me live peacefully? fuck you."

a shy smile tugged at matt's lips, clearly amused by your exasperation.

"so you do love me that much, hm?" he teased you, his lips hovering over yours.

your stomach did a flip at the proximity, anticipation building up in you. you watched mesmerised as his gaze flicked from your eyes to your lips, then again to you eyes. your fingers wrapped tightly around his wrists, nails digging into his skin.

"tell me that you love me."

"fuck y-"

matt's lips crashed on yours, latching onto you with desperation. your hands found their way in his hair, gently pulling strands of hair as he devoured you. the kiss was anything but gentle, years and years of pent up frustration released like that, lips on lips, hands grabbing soft skin, pushing each other as close as possible.

"matt," you gasped, coming up for air, "fuck. i hate you. but i also love you so so much, it's crazy."

matt smiled, his lips puffy. he intertwined your fingers before asking you:

"can i be you boyfriend?"

© stvrnioloslvt

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃/𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊. 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓

❃ a.n.: to the anon that asked for a pt.2... thank you🙏 i don't think I've ever written as much before and it's all thanks to you. i hope you enjoy it just as much as I enjoyed writing and imagining it.

love, bree ☾

taglist: @shadowthesim @sturnioloszn 🤍

[stuckinmymind22]

zoro x gn! reader

wc: 663

this is the first part of a series "you're in love with me" where you realize that they are in love with you can call them out on it

thanks for voting on this one, i had fun with it, sorry it took so long, i got busy with the holidays, but it’s here now 💕

ace's is done and will be up probably tomorrow and i'm gonna start on sanjis, but lmk if you are interested in any other characters

not proof read lol

this goes one of two ways, in both you're being called stupid, both included

it's a chose your own adventure babe!

zoro has been acting strange recently- he was almost too quick to come to your aid, even if it was something you both knew you could handle alone. he’s also been making sure that you eat. recently he brought up a plate for you when you were on duty in the crow’s nest. sure, the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks were tinted pink, but that was easy to write off as a consequence of the alcohol that was surely in his veins. but he didn’t leave right away like you thought he would, he stood on the ladder without moving until he saw you take your first bite. on the last island there had been a miscalculation in your provisions and the ship was running dangerously low on alcohol. there was no doubt that the crew was going to run dry shy of meeting their next destination, which was a bigger deal to some of the straw hats than others. it all brings you to the moment he offers you a sip of the last bottle of sake. you’re speechless. you always thought that hell sure would freeze over before he shared his booze and here he is willingly offering you some. you’re trying to figure out what was going on in his head, why he has been acting so strange, then it hits you.  “you’re in love with me.”

denial is a river in egypt

“did you hit your head or sum?” he asks, trying to remain as impartial as possible, but you didn’t miss how he nearly choked at your words. “no, zo, this makes sense,” you say connecting the dots, "you've been acting real weird about me recently, this explains it." you aren’t about to back down from this, not after you wanted this for so long, not until he admits it to himself. “you’re being an idiot,” he rolls his eyes, “do you want some or not?” with a smile you grab the bottle out of his hand and take a swig, sitting down next to him. “i don’t mind you know,” you say taking another sip, “that you love me that is” zoro is confused why he is so drawn to the dangerous smile that plays on your lips. he shakes himself out of it snatching back the bottle and taking a long gulp. you get pulled away by luffy wanting something, but he still feels your presence.  little do you know how those words haunt him for the rest of the night. fuck, you might be right

he's down bad and he knows it

“n-no I’m not,” zoro sputters, his face alight, “are you stupid or something?” “no, no, this is why you’ve been acting strange,” you say, the weight of your revelation still sinking in. “that’s why you haven’t let me out of your sight for the past week, right?” you don’t give him time to respond (not that he would be able to formulate a coherent response anyway). you continue listing all of his abnormal behaviors and fail to notice how his face grows redder with your every word. poor zoro is sinking into his seat hoping to disappear he’s so uncomfortable. he’s certain that he messed everything up and has no idea what to do now. he knows that you’re right of course, it’s kept him up at night, kept him from his precious naps. it took him a while to realize why you never left his mind, and the determining factor came from the fucking cook spewing some bullshit to a pretty woman on the last island. just when he is certain that he ruined whatever relationship you could ever have you turn to him with a big smile.  “it’s a good thing you are though, or else this would be awkward,” you tell him, before he can even think to question what you mean your lips are on his and his brain malfunctions.  maybe it’ll be alright.

masterlist

[vivilunacornio]

First of all, Merry Christmas

If you're finding this comment on the 25th… man we need friends lol

Second, if you're going to be annoying, don't bother yourself. Just move on, this is not for you.

Well, a month has passed since the end of Arcane and even though I haven't posted anything, I'm always here following some incredible analyses. And during all this time as a Caitvi shipper (long before the series was announced) I've seen everything in just one month

stan Jinx (sorry if you're a decent stan jinx, the ones I've met have serious problems), anti-caitvi, moral police, "arcane critical", vi hater, caitlyn hater, incel, misogynists, harassers, lesbophobes, people who go to the ship's tags to talk shit

And now I started thinking and finally came to the conclusion that… I don't FUCKING care about your opinion. I'm tired of stressing myself out because of misinterpretations. I'm going to have fun, there are fanarts, fanfics and people who love this ship as much as I do. If you couldn't feel the same way I did watching this couple's story, I'm really sorry, because I loved this experience with all my soul. I'm not going to ruin the affection and how special these two are to me just because you didn't like or didn't understand what the writers did to them

I have my own complaints about some of the choices the writers made with them, but nothing that would ruin my experience

To the couple's lovers, a piece of advice: don't pay attention to these people. They won't change the way they think and your argument doesn't mean anything to them, it will only make them think they are right. It's not worth damaging your mental health

So if you're one of those crazy lovers who just wants to freak out and have fun with hc, theories or just finding details, I'd love to freak out with you. Don't be shy, I promise I'm just a little weird

(english is not my native language, so I apologize if any words seem confusing)