#like every time it felt like the conversation would end

[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!

View all comments

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

lalalandlando4 He deserved better anyways 🤷‍♀️

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

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

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

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

4everf1loca NOOOOO my sheilaaaaa 😭

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I continued, my words raw.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

f1gossippofficial

Liked by formula1_news, wagscloset, formula1_gossips and others

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

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

lvr4lan Noooo Lando honey this isn't you run!

wagslov4 Did he pick you yet ? 🙄

bbpiastri81 What the hell is going on

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

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

momolew16 Forreal the girl didn't ask for this

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

mayyoushush8 Did she tell you that 🤨

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The 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

[alchemistc]

Part One

The loft is sadly undecorated. He'd tried, is the thing. Gone to the same novelty store they'd found on a random walk after a date, in late September, where Tommy had spent twenty minutes worrying a foam pumpkin in his hands while Buck tried to decide what sort of decor would fit his utilitarian loft.

They'd spent so long lingering over the sculpted white candles, Buck thrilled because Tommy's straight face broke every time Buck pointed out which ones looked like incredibly expensive dildos, that he'd felt bad enough to buy a whole set of them just to appease the girl at the counter who'd been watching them with a half annoyed, half wistful expression while Buck made a comment about dragons that had had Tommy biting his lip so hard he'd actually gone red in the face trying to hold the laughter in.

But every time he'd picked up a glass tree and thought how much fun it'd be to try to make Tommy go full Tik Tok Paramedic on him, every time he'd found something soft or plush enough that Tommy wouldn't have been able to resist running his fingers over it, plucking it up to toss it between his palms - well.

It wasn't like there'd be anyone in his loft long enough to really appreciate his decorations.

"Why'd you kiss me?" he asks, rounding on Tommy as Tommy takes a tentative step towards the kitchen.

"You were being annoying." At Buck's look, he elaborates. "Force of habit."

The finger comes up without any input from Buck, his voice tipping into that same flirty, bickering rapport he'd always pushed as far as he could. "I knew you did it to shut me up."

Tommy expression shutters. He recognizes Buck's tone. A few months ago that tone would start with a round of banter that usually ended with at least one of them with their pants around their ankles.

He looks spooked. He's staring at the island stool closest to the door like he's replaying the last conversation they had here, and Buck feels all his ire rear back up.

"You promised me clarity, Tommy." It's an accusation, and they both know it, because he looks ready to fucking bolt.

Slowly, he steps in. Half a yard closer to Buck, close enough to curl his hand over the island, and Buck is struck again by how goddamn unfair it is that Tommy looks this goddamn good in a suit.

"I did."

Buck's pretty sure he has some muffins he hasn't frozen yet that wouldn't actually damage Tommy, if he threw them at him.

"Can we...?" He gestures, vague as his half a question, and Buck wants to throttle him. Or kiss him again, which is -

"I need a beer. You?"

Tommy sighs. His grip on the corner of the island makes his knuckles go white. "Evan."

"No beer, got it." He swings the door open and doesn't wait for the reaction to either his snippy little rejoinder or the stacks and stacks of baked goods filling up the shelves of his fridge. He pops the cap with his back still turned, let's the fridge door fall closed. "Not like you drove here, but sure. One of us should be sober, I guess."

The switch back to Evan doesn't do anything for him at all.

Buck leans back against the counter and tries not to think about how he'd had this half formed idea of getting a real tree this year, finding some novelty kiosk that made those hokey ornaments for people to mark the years they'd been a family. He'd thought -

Tommy blinks guiltily when Buck catches him eyeing the way he fills out his slacks, a toe to groin drift of his gaze that makes Buck ache for when he could respond to that by dropping to his knees.

"That's a lot of bread," Tommy notes, eyes focused somewhere over Buck's shoulder.

"Why'd you break up with me, Tommy?"

Tommy freezes. Shifts from foot to foot. Sighs, and takes a few steps to the fridge, swings it open to grab a beer of his own. It's still the stuff Tommy likes. Buck's not picky, really, and it'd been habit to grab the six pack he always kept for Tommy.

The last five times he'd restocked.

Tommy takes half a step back to lean against the island, just off center from Buck, so they both have to twist their necks just a little to actually look at each other.

"You terrify me," Tommy murmurs, a few swigs in, when the silence is just starting to make Buck's skin itch. "Evan, I'm not -." He grimaces, frustrated. "I'm not some Super Gay who fights for justice and equality and the ability to make horrible television with Hummel doll sopranists."

"I don't know what that means."

Tommy's smile is wry. He'd had a running list of movies Buck's never seen on a note on his phone - every time Buck missed a reference, he'd added it to the list. They'd gotten through maybe twenty before -

"I led on a good woman for years because I convinced myself I could live my life ignoring a huge piece of myself. I hurled slurs with my buddies just to make sure no one noticed me. I fed into every toxic stereotype I could just to avoid anyone realizing I wasn't one of them. I'm not - I'm not some Gold Star Gay, paragon of the community. I didn't do shit. And even when I made the decision to let myself just be who I always was, I waited until no one in my life was close enough to me to question that I hadn't always been this way. I -." He winces. Shakes his head. "I run instead of fighting. I hide every time someone tries to see me. I'm not - this comfort you're so convinced I have I took at the cost of other people who were braver and stronger than I could ever be. Do you - is that an admirable quality, to you?"

Buck wishes they'd sat, like Tommy seemed to have been hinting at. He wishes he'd spent the ride over preparing himself for this, instead of stopping himself from crawling into Tommy's lap and getting a horrible rider rating for his trouble. He wishes -

"Do you think I don't already know all those things about you?"

It's - actually, it makes him a little furious, to think that Tommy spent six months thinking he'd successfully hid all those things from Buck. And - sure, he hadn't exactly been forthcoming about more than a few of those things, but like -

It wasn't like Buck didn't actively find ways to pry stories from Howie and Hen, even Bobby on occasion. It wasn't like Buck hadn't noticed the clipped way Tommy spoke of his past, his family, always tucking away more than he revealed. It wasn't like Buck wasn't well aware that Tommy Kinard had the capacity to be a total fucking asshole, if he wanted. Just because he'd kept it cool around Buck, made it just flirty enough for plausible deniability -

"You deserve better than that. Than me."

"Then be better than that, Tommy." It's not the best way to get his point across, but... "I've had multiple serious relationships, Tommy. I'm - I've been in love, before, and I've had my heart broken before, and I've had my trust broken before, and I've made people I love feel like shit. You weren't new and exciting, Tommy, we were - we were boring and domestic and it was the best six months of my life. It was what I -."

And this, of course, is where the words start to crest over, too many at once while his mouth tries to keep up and his throat is too tight to -

He swallows. Stares at his toes until his vision swims. Maybe those are tears, or maybe he's just stared long enough to go cross-eyed. His throat feels like he might be able to scrape a few words out

"I go too fast sometimes. I - I get scared I'm falling behind and so I clear a few hurdles too fast to catch back up and it -." Frustration rises through him as he remembers the way Tommy had levered himself up, spun away, broken things off without even a hint of the careful consideration Buck had grown so used to. "And you just - you tell me you want more than anything to be my last but you can't even give me the closure of a clean break! What the hell was that about?"

"Evan, I -."

"No! Okay, no. It's my turn to - it's my turn to be mad. It's my turn to - do you know how lonely I've been? How - how much I'm in my own head about where I went wrong, and what I could have done differently, and why you won't just fucking text me when you clearly want to? Do you know - do you know what it's like to think you've finally found something worth the humiliation of being known and then have it vanish in a single night? Over - you never talked to me about any of the shit you brought up that night, Tommy! You never - if you were so scared of not being enough to keep me interested, or so sure you weren't a good enough man, or so sure I couldn't possibly know what I wanted out of this, you could have saved us a hell of a lot of time and - and hurt by not being exactly the person I thought I could spend the rest of my life with! If that was all a - a smokescreen, some act, then why did you - are you actually so cruel that you convinced me we were falling in love while you had one foot out the door the whole time?"

Tommy's grip on the bottle looks painful.

"It's your turn to talk," Buck snipes, and he takes a little satisfaction in the way Tommy blanches. Just a little. Just enough to ignore how much he wants to rip Tommy's suit jacket at the straining shoulder seams and bite a bruise into that spot below his collarbone that even Tommy's undershirts hid well enough to keep the team at Harbor from putting him on blast for coming to work covered in hickeys.

"Six months with you was more devastating than two decades of hiding who I was, Evan," Tommy says, and it's a horrible opening that makes Buck feel like he's being drawn and quartered but he'd given Tommy the floor, so -

Tommy's eyes are a little too misty to call them anything but welling, and Buck hates it as much as it satisfies the pieces of himself he's spent weeks trying to pick up and glue back together.

"Evan, I lived with Abby for years and I don't think I saw her as much as I saw you. You -." He swipes a hand through his hair, and rustles one of his Superman curls loose to drape tauntingly over his forehead. Buck wants to bite him. He wants it to hurt. "You burrowed in and you just kept digging and I didn't take a second to question it until it was too late."

"Too late for what?"

"For me to take the cowards way out and leave before it hurt."

"Maybe I should have dug further," Buck snaps, and Tommy's gaze flits to his. Holds, for the first time all night. He's breathtaking in the best and worst way possible. He's spent weeks now trying to imagine anyone else ever making him feel the way prolonged eye contact with this man makes him feel.

"You did," Tommy admits, a confession that sounds like it's been gut punched right out of him. "You still -." Another grimace, Tommy pulling back, pulling away, hiding, running, and Buck can't -

"So what is this, Tommy? Is this - are you -?" He shakes his head to clear the cobwebs. Rears up, pushes off the counter, and Tommy's eyes widen like he's just now realized he doesn't have an easy exit. Buck just stands there, though. "If this is it, let this be it. If you don't want - if you're not willing to fight for this with me, tell me now. I know I'm - I know I'm a lot. I know I push for more when I'm scared. I know I'm overwhelming, and I sometimes can't stop talking to save my life, and I know I'm jealous and petty and - I know I'm not perfect."

Tommy sets his bottle on the counter beside him. Worries his lip between his teeth and rolls his jaw.

"You snore. You're a bitch sometimes and every once in a while it's not even charming. You hog all the covers and then you complain that it's too hot. You're vague about every single thing in your past that you think makes you seem like a bad person. You always think food needs more garlic and sometimes you're wrong. Sometimes when I spiral you just give me that stupid indulgent smile of yours and I know you stopped listening two reddit threads ago. When you're grumpy sometimes it takes everything in me not to pick a fight because you're such an asshole. You get cagey every time I pick at a thread you don't want to unravel and I - I hate it. I wanted a life with you and you couldn't stick around long enough to tell me why you were too afraid to go for it. So if - if you think I'm seeing you with rose colored glasses, or whatever. If you think I'm not - if you think being the first guy makes you too special for this to be real then just..." He sucks in a breath. Blows it out through his nose and feels the ache in his chest that's half remnants of his earlier panic attack and half fear that Tommy will actually turn and walk out at the end of this. "If you don't wanna fight for this I'll fill in the hole I dug as best I can and I'll leave you alone, okay?"

The look on Tommy's face is one he's never seen before. They've done this dance, or parts of it, at least. Tommy'd left him outside Micelli's, breathless and confused and aching, before he ever knew what it was like to hold his hand, to press his nose into the join of his neck and shoulder, to curl a hand in his hair or be filled by him - with attention, with affection, with the weight of his body and the stretch of his cock. Even then, this had felt different. Real, in a way the misty edges of his time with Abby, or the way Buck's puzzle pieces had never quite fit with Taylor's had never been. Even then, he'd just wanted so desperately to know and be known by Tommy that he'd taken his second chance and run with it.

"I don't snore," Tommy says, when the silence gets too heavy, and Buck - god, Buck has missed that tone, the snappy little tilt of his head, the blatant lie that passes over Tommy's lips so smoothly it's hard to tell sometimes that he's not being serious.

"I have audio proof," Buck says, and then doesn't immediately admit that he'd played it on a loop two nights into the breakup when he'd wrapped his entire body around the spare pillows on his bed and still hadn't been able to sleep alone in his bed.

"It bugs me that you spent days following scraps of information about a dead outlaw you convinced yourself cursed you, but you didn't even know what a Kinsey scale was."

This is - progress. This is... not Tommy bolting.

"I'm a two. If that's - is that, like, gay enough for you, or...?"

"You go too fast for me, Buckley," he says, and Buck knows that's a fucking reference to something he doesn't have context for just as well as he knows he's willing to spend the next decade waiting for the reference to pop up on Tommy's list. It's a terrifying, exhilarating thought and it's probably exactly what Tommy means.

"I can slow down," Buck says, and he tries to mean it. Nothing about how he feels about Tommy is slow.

"I don't want you to," Tommy admits, and then lets the silence stretch. They're two and a half feet away from each other and the distance feels like the farthest he's ever been from Tommy and the closest he may ever be again. "Living together, making a life together..." He swallows. "Marriage." That stops him short just long enough to recall how he'd blazed right past the I love you and straight into how he could keep Tommy. "You scare the shit out of me every goddamn minute of every goddamn day and I've never missed being terrified as much as I have since I walked out that door."

"I'm in love with you," Buck tells him, and Tommy blinks back tears. Takes a shaky breath and nods.

"That's what scares me. It's never - it's never been enough, before."

He'd sort of expected this to end with either the echo of his KitchenAid or a frantic rush up the stairs, but when Tommy meets him halfway all he does is sink his nose into the curls behind Buck's ear and breathe.

His arms drag Buck closer, his feet shuffle beneath them, his chin hooks over Buck's shoulder and he breathes, and breathes, and breathes.

---

"Your morning breath is rancid," Tommy tells him, palm centered on Buck's nose when he leans in for a kiss, pads of his fingers curled just slightly so that his hand is nearly encasing Buck's entire face. He wants to be annoyed but it's mind numbingly hot and Buck has missed it. Missed the snark, and the comfortable way Tommy will shoot him down when his head is in the clouds, and exactly how fucking large Tommy is.

"I'm so tired of avocado toast," Buck bats back, and Tommy is distracted enough by his need to make a face at that for Buck to swoop in and press a kiss to his cheek. He makes sure to make it a little wet just to watch Tommy's face crinkle in mock disgust.

He's in one of Buck's hoodies, is wearing the pair of his own sweats Buck had buried in the back of his closet in a fit of pique three days post breakup. He still looks properly debauched and Buck wants to drag him right back to bed.

Except -

"You don't have to go," Buck repeats, for the fifth time since he brought it up somewhere between peeling Tommy out of his suit pants and rolling out of bed to warm a hand towel under the sink so that Tommy could clean the cum off his abs. "But I need to shower and leave in like - twenty-seven minutes."

Tommy catches him by the waist and drags him in. "I won't be able to stay. You baked and I took as much holiday overtime as I could, but if you seriously want me there -."

"I seriously want you everywhere."

Tommy raises a brow.

"I mean that in a horny way and a codependent way."

Tommy snorts. "Good to know we're approaching this in a healthy manner."

"You told me not to slow down," Buck reminds him, and he gets a smack to his ass for his trouble.

"When Maddie pulls me aside, do you think she'll just slip me a poisoned glass of wine, or is she gonna get up on a step stool and make me stand there while she strangles me to death?"

"She won't do that." Buck leans in again, rolls a loose curl between two fingers. "She'll just stab you in the middle of the kitchen and warn my parents not to step in the blood."

"That's comforting."

Tommy takes a utilitarian shower in the downstairs bathroom and doesn't let Buck join him, and then rifles through Buck's closet until he finds all three of his button downs Buck had tucked away.

He has to borrow a pair of Buck's slacks and Buck absolutely does not mind that his ass is definitely gonna stretch them out.

With about seventy seconds to spare, Tommy presses Buck to his front door and kisses him just long enough to screw up Buck's meticulous timing - by the time he pulls back and gives Buck enough room to glance at the time on his stove, Buck knows they're gonna hit just enough red lights to make them late.

"I love you too, by the way," Tommy murmurs, and just this once, Buck decides not to be a brat about being five minutes late.

[devosin]

— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! episode three : bittersweet wine . . .

♡. Spotify playlist | Updates, every Friday !! — Vil Schoenheit x reader | Dual pov . .

You stare at your phone, the article of Vil’s break in loaded on screen, you focus on the title almost obsessively, your hands tightening around your phone in a death grip. Maybe scheduling a meeting so soon after something that traumatic was a bad idea, but you weren’t one to check the news often, you stopped around two years back when your ex-therapist noted how it affects your mental health negatively, so you hadn’t known the news until now, when you were scrolling aimlessly through your magicam account.  

A sigh escapes you as you lean back into your chair, Amanda had reserved a table at one of these exclusive private bars, just for privacy reasons, it would've been a nice break from your usual typical dinner outings or take-out days, if it weren't for the anxiety building up in the pit of your stomach, alongside a fresh cold platter of guilt for making Vil come out during this sort of situation, despite it not being your fault in the first place. .  or maybe it’s a good thing he’s getting out of his home . .  that is under the assumption that he did spend the night at his apartment after that. 

The bar was rather empty, everything felt like a blur, but you suppose it's normal, no one really visits the bar at 9 in the morning, sounds counter-productive, who starts the day off with alcohol anyways . .  alcoholics . . right.  

Time: 9:18 am Location: Angel’s share

Vil approaches your table, "Apologies for being late, I had to take a cab this time around", he says, as he takes a seat in front of you, setting his bag aside. 

The knots in your stomach finally come undone and you find your shoulders relaxing as you hear Vil’s voice, you didn't even know you were this worried he would stand you up, it was gravely unlikely either way, this wasn't a date but more so of a work meeting. You let out a deep breath, finally looking up at Vil’s face . .  and . . 

“Why are you wearing sunglasses inside?”, you ask, staring at him. 

“Fashion statement.”, Vil says as calmly as possible, his head moved up to meet your gaze, but you couldn’t tell if he was looking at you or not. 

You stare at him and silence falls over the table “. . . “, a few moments pass before you finally ask, “You’re hungover, aren’t you . .?” 

“. . .”, Vil gulps, turning to the side, before he mumbles out a response, , “ . . . Yes, I’m.” 

You pause for a brief moment, before letting out a laugh, everyone who you know to have previously worked with Vil has always commented on his professional and cut-to-the-point behaviour, never once did you think he'd come hungover or unkept to a first meeting.  

Vil opens his mouth, about to say something only to get interrupted by the waitress, "Excuse me, are you both ready to order?", she smiled and she looked a little familiar. Vil squinted his eyes, trying to make out her face fully, he would take off the sunglasses but the bright lights would probably make him want to kill himself, and unfortunately he couldn’t tell exactly where he'd seen her before. 

“hav—”, Vil was cut off mid-sentence, this time by Y/n, “Ah—Yes, we're ready to order.”, Vil stares at Y/n, clearly taken aback by the rude interruption and Y/n doesn’t seem to notice, probably due to his tinted sunglasses. 

“I’ll have an appletini”, Y/n says and then meets Vil’s gaze . .  he chooses to remain silent, which was a bad idea since Y/n just ended up ordering for him anyways, “You can’t stay hungover if you’re still drunk”, the logic was clearly unmatched. 

Time: 9:43 am Location: Angel’s share 

Vil pours you another drink and the two of you clearly should stop drinking—he leans down over the counter, and for a split second he takes in your features—like really takes it all in—and . . you look . . tolerable, he gulps. 

Things were quiet as you tried figuring out what new conversation starter to use, the last half an hour or so the two of you had just been talking about random things, you learnt a lot, like how Vil keeps his first award under his pillow before an awards show for good luck—which seemed so unlike the man in front of you, to the point where it was even a little adorable. 

"You know—", Vil starts speaking, capturing your attention, he swings the class slightly as he makes eye contact with you, "I don't like you very much". and silence falls over the two of you . . but weirdly enough you didn't find it uncomfortable, and for a second you thought all that therapy on confrontation had finally paid off—but it didn't, a weird feeling sat in the pit of your stomach, and you asked softly, "Why?"   

Vil paused, gulping down the rest of his drink, and he could see the waiter from the corner of his eye sighing internally—he paid him no mind—"I just don't believe you can act" . . you froze.

Yes Rook is married, because it just feels in character for Rook to be married by his mid-20's to me, like he gives that golden gilded fences perfect family daydream lifestyle vibe to me.

Cater being a good friend . . I guess?

Vil momentarily being attracted to Y/n's looks because why not.

Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter . .

— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! ♡. Synopsis : VIL SCHOENHEIT recently signed a contract under Descendant. Inc for his very own late night show, only to find out his co-star and fellow co-host is none other than Y/n L/n, someone he hates despite knowing very little about them and never having met them, previously. Y/N L/N, an actor who made their debut 3 years ago and hasn’t been able to catch a break since, recently decided to sign a deal with Descendants. Inc to host their new late night show “late nights & flashing lights”, as a break from acting . . Only to find out their favorite long-time actor will be co-hosting with them. Tune in every Friday, for a new episode of “late nights & flashing lights” to see if these two hosts can find a peaceful work-bond amidst their judgements . . and quite possibly even love? . .

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© devosin , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

[retiredteabag]

learning together - Christmas Special

parental Gojo attempts to get Megumi in a Christmassy mood, it appears to be more of a challenge than he thought.

pt. 1

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Ice crystalized the window of Satoru's Tokyo apartment, A thick dusting of snow laid atop the city below, and the house smelled distinctly of mulling spices and his favorite "sugar cookie" candle. But the teenage boy had a deep sense of dread when he remembered that he had no idea what his little pupil wanted for Christmas.

Typically, Satoru did not live with Tsumiki or Megumi; he paid for them to have their own place closer to their school. But with the end of the year came winter break, and a wide gap of time for the children to be home alone. That, and as he so often found himself saying these days,

"It's Christmas!!!!"

Tsumiki would giggle, and Megumi would roll his eyes. This phase had propagated into Satoru's vocabulary ever since the children's last day of class when Megumi had asked on the road out of school,

"Why do we have to go to your place? Can't we just stay at home?"

Tsumiki had glared harshly at the boy and nudged him to be quiet. But Megumi just furrowed his brows and softly whispered, "What?"

Satoru leaned back in the passenger seat of his car, an assistant had accompanied them because 1) Gojo doesn't like to drive, and 2) he wanted someone else to unpack all of the kid's stuff so they could spend that time settling in.

As it would later turn out, Megumi was closely attached to his backpack and refused to let anyone else touch it. Odd kid, that one.

Gojo had grinned then, "Becaauuuse" He began in a whining tone, "It's Christmas! You can't be all alone for the holidays!"

The little boy turned to look out the window, fog had accumulated so he could not view of the passing busy street, he avoided Gojo's covered gaze and squeezed his bag handle. "'M not alone. I've got Tsumiki." He mumbled, resting the crown of his head on the door.

Since then, every time Megumi made some negative comment, be it about: Satoru's overindulgence at cafes, the excessive decorating, or even his hyper attitude, Satoru would reply,

"Megumi, it's the Christmas season, be a little more jolly!"

But it seemed more evident as the days went by that Megumi did not have a jolly bone in his body. That, accompanied by his inability to come up with his wish list for Santa, Satoru was discouraged.

"Santa isn't real, Gojo." The boy would huff, rolling his eyes.

"How do you know that?" Gojo would pout, pointing out that at least his big sister humored him with the Santa stuff.

The boy would just pull his, 'are you really being serious right now' face and attempt to extricate himself from the conversation.

One day, after much time purchasing Sanrio toys, art supplies, lip glosses, new shoes, an adorable tea set, a bundle of DS games, and virtually any other gift he could imagine for Tsumiki, and stowing them away in one of his many walk-in closets, he called the young girl into the kitchen.

Megumi was reading in on of Gojo's guest rooms, avoiding everyone.

"Every time I ask him what he wants he just gets all grumpy and tells me not to get him anything..." Satoru confessed after thanking the girl for her willingness to make a list to Santa that included: A cute plushy or maybe new colored pencils?

Santa would pull through on her requests, of course, but Megumi hardly even said anything about food he enjoyed, let alone anything "unnecessary". Every time Satoru found something the boy might like, he got the image of an upset or disappointed Megumi and felt his stomach drop. The kid was hard to shop for, to say the least.

"He won't complain about anything! I promise, Gojo, he just... doesn't...like asking for things." Tsumiki smiled at her benefactor, so mature. From an outsider's perspective, it would seem as though a little girl was consoling a very oversized child who just fell on the playground and scraped his knee.

"But...Why?" Satoru groaned, looking to the girl for some idea of how to make the boy smile. It was Christmas for goodness sake. "I don't want him to 'not complain' I want him to get him something exciting, something he really wants."

Tsumiki twisted her mouth and twiddled her thumbs, "I think...hmm", she cut herself off, rethinking what she meant to say, "I think he already feels so indebted to you, you know? I think it would just upset him to ask for a present."

Satoru opened his mouth, only to close it a few times. He had no words. Why would a child, a boy who has practically just learned to read, feel as if he owes him something?

It was this event that caused Gojo to switch his mindset. If the boy refused to ask for something verbally, Satoru would use his innate talent of observation to deduce for himself what the boy wanted. He would unearth every little wish inside that emotionally constipated boy's heart.

A day later, Satoru found the kids on the floor in the living room, drawing together by the fireplace. Under closer inspection, it was clear why Tsumiki wanted new colored pencils. The ones she had been using in school were practically nubs, she had to hold them at an odd angle to be able to draw properly.

"Watcha dooooin'?" Satoru strolled into the living room, carrying bags of sweets and tissue paper.

"Drawing!" Tsumiki sang back. Her brother huffed and caged his arms around his sheet of paper. Trying to hide his drawing, he put his head down and scribbled some more.

"Ooooo! That's fun!" Satoru called out, tiptoeing to the master bedroom, "Don't let me bother you, I've got some top-secret Santa business to get up to-" Satoru spun around, turning this way and that in a comical show of 'spying', "You kids better stay out of my room!" He squinted at them, "It's never good to be nosy around Christmas!"

Tsumiki laughed and nodded at Gojo but Megumi made a face that showed clearly what a fool he thought the man was. What he didn't know, is that Satoru had real good eyes, and for the first time all week, he had an idea of how to get the boy in the Christmas spirit.

--

The image of Megumi's green crayon scrawled across a sketched pine tree stuck out in Satorus mind as he zipped up Tsumiki's coat. "C'mon Megs! The trees aren't gonna pick themselves!"

Megumi hurriedly called, "I'm coming! Just-ugh- gimmie one second!" as he fumbled with his shoe laces.

"Hey buddy, no rush, I can help." Satoru knelt down on the floor, still a head taller than the boy, he bent and tightened the laces.

The boy's eyes twitched, he had stumbled and clung to Gojo's shoulder for a moment before embarrassment flooded him and he huffed.

Satoru stood, patted the boy's head, and ushered them out the door.

On the eve of the big day, and for the first time, it was clear, Megumi was as excited as Tsumiki, though he tried to hide it, his spine was straight, he was wide awake, his hands tapped his lap unknowingly, and he kept puffing air in his cheeks, he could hardly wait to get to Christmas tree farm.

The boy was brimming with anticipation.

As much as Satoru wanted to follow the kids around, pestering them about what trees they liked, he decided to fall back, allowing them to meander and play amongst themselves. Although unspoken, Tsumiki had been trying to help Satoru in bringing her brother out of his shell. It hadn't really changed much outside of learning that the boy liked reading just a bit more than Gojo suspected.

"GOJO!! GOJO!!" The little girl eventually spun around and waved her arms around in the air. "LOOK! THI- This one-" She inhaled deeply, "Don't you think...it's nice?"

Megumi, who had privately been grinning with his sister just a moment prior, was now avoiding his benefactor's eyes, shifting his weight awkwardly while pretending to be occupied by the snow on his shoe.

"Nice? Oh, Miki, I think it's perfect!" He ran around the tree and came to the other side of them, "Only... Megumi? Do you think this one is right as well?"

Tsumiki stood by the tall man now, blinking at the boy expectantly.

"Mmm." He nodded after a second.

"'Mmm' yes? Or 'Mmm' 'let's find a different one'?"

"'Mmm' yes." He stood up straight and decided.

Satoru pumped his fist, "Whooooo! We got a Christmas tree! Oh boy! I can't wait to decorate! Good thing the farm has got some stuff, huh?"

By the time they had wrapped the tree to the top of a staff vehicle and acquired just about every ounce of tinsel and bows the little shop had, the children's noses were pink with cold and the sun was beginning to crest the horizon.

Not too long ago, Satoru had been feeling deep-seated dread around the Christmas atmosphere or lack thereof. Now, as he raced back to the car to start heating the seats, he had a spring in his step.

--

Satoru, surprisingly, was quite a good cook, unfortunately, they hadn't the time for a homecooked meal when they had important tree-decorating-business to attend to, so they ordered take out and got straight to work.

The three of them worked as a team to adorn the branches with twinkles of silver and velvet ribbon. Satoru had purchased far too many strands of lights so they set aside bunchs of them to decorate the kids rooms.

After taking a moment to back away, they all admired their diligent work. It was beautiful, all lit up and sparkling. Satoru had never felt so grown up. Buying a tree and decorating it himself.

After grinning to themselves, Satoru noticed. Oh, how had he forgotten? It's the most important part!

"The topper!" He groaned. "Ughhhh what are we gonna do...I guess I can go out and buy one..." He mumbled, he spun around, hoping to avoid any sighs of disappointment from the little ones. He looked at the clock on the wall and realized how late it was getting.

Tomorrow was Christmas. Everything was closed. Satoru was just about to suggest making one of their own when Tsumiki spoke up.

"Umm... Gojo... Megumi has something to say." She poked at him with her shoe.

There was a long pause before he spoke, "Well....".

But then he was rushing from the living room. Trapsing his way back to the bedroom he was staying in. Satoru felt awful. He wanted everything to feel like a family event.

"What... was that?" The white haired man began, "Is he... that upset?"

Tsumiki didn't even have time to disagree before the boy was racing from the threshold again, this time, something behind his back. He was huffing and puffing with the effort of his speed.

"What've you got there Megs?" The boy still had his hands behind his back. He looked a bit strange with his elbows bent all weird.

"We can... just use this." He spoke so lowly, it was as though he was ashamed. "If we haven't got anything else."

Imagine Satoru's surprise when the boy, who had been the grinch incarnate since day one, brought out a glass star tree topper. It seemed as though it had been hand painted, perhaps a school project. When did Megumi get this?

It took a moment before the oldest of the three spoke, this seemed to discourage Megumi and he was about to hide it once more, saying, "We don't need to... it's not very good."

"NO!" Both Satoru and the boy's sister practically screeched. "NOT VERY GOOD???" Satoru basically flung himself to his knees to get a better look. His glasses had long since been on his head, but he yanked them off, as though they might obstruct the boy's creation. "IT"S GORGEOUS!"

"You're over doing it..." The boys brows were furrowed. Satoru knew the kid was trying to play it off as if he wasn't happy with the older boy, but Megumi's lips were twitching.

"This!" Satoru tilted his nose to the ceiling, "Is the finest of tree toppers! I do declare! How dare you keep this from us! This is what we've needed all along."

--

That night, Megumi would lay in bed, recalling how it felt to be lifted so high, setting his little star atop the tree. His teacher in the week prior had loudly told the class to hang up their stars with their family over Christmas break. There was a strange giddiness he felt knowing he was able to use it. To know it was hung up, not hidden in his school bag.

That morning Satoru had woken the kids up early, skipping into their bedrooms to announce that Santa had come in the night.

"Wow. Santa sure does like cookies..." Megumi almost smiled as he pointed out that the sweets on the counter from the days before were nearly gone.

"Right you are Megumi! I like how you think, we'll need to get more!"

Gojo watched as the kids opened their numerous gifts. The both of them seemed quite uncomfortable with the stacks they had laid out at first. Tsumiki jumped with joy after opening the smallest box, a designer set of colored pencils along with a new sharpener. And that, more than anything, made her little brother smile.

Megumi, however, had a harder time accepting his gifts. Christmas evening, after opening new clothing to grow into, book after book, dog toys, and much more. He found himself watching Satoru from the living room as his sister played games on her DS.

"Whatcha lookin' at Megs?"

Satoru hadn't even peered up from the dish sink, but he knew Meg's had been eyeing him.

"Nothing." Megs turned away and watched Tsumiki reach a new level.

Oddly, he felt like crying. Did he not want it to end? Did he feel guilty? Did he wish he had gotten something else? No, he knew it wasn't any of that.

And then it struck him. This felt an awful lot like a family... it hurt him deep in his stomach and sent pricks to his eyes. Satoru, of course, could tell something was brewing in the boy but he just couldn't get him to say anything.

It wasn't until Gojo was tucking Megumi in for the night, (for the very first time) that he asked.

"Well Megs, was it a good Christmas?"

The boy just nodded and pulled the duvet to his nose.

"Did Santa do a good job, or was there something else you were wishing for?"

The thought struck the boy as insulting.

"No. It was seriously too much, Gojo."

"Hey, kid, don't blame me, that was alllllllll the big guy."

"So were all those cookies going missing..." Megs rolled his eyes.

"Now you're getting it." Satoru decided not to push his luck with patting the boys head and lifted himself to his full height. "Well..." he rolled his head over too the door, "I'm going to go say good night to your sister."

It was at this precise moment, just as Satoru was leaving, that Megumi had a wave pass over him. He tried to sit up but it was too much. He forced the words out, shutting his eyes.

"I wish you would s-stay."

After he said it he breathed a huge sigh, as if it was the most challenging thing he's done.

"What was that?" Gojo's eyes were huge, confused. He sped over to the boys bed, kneeling once more, "What did you say?"

It was too hard to get out again. Megumi just shrugged and felt blood fill his cheeks.

"Did you ask me to stay?" Satoru seemed to chase the boys eyes with his head, leaning over into Megumi's space. "Do you mean here? Or... with you? You and Tsumiki?"

Megumi tugged his comforter to his nose once more, hiding the majority of his face. "With us. Like this."

Years later, Megumi would groan every time he would recall this moment, but for now, it was just for Satoru and him, and his warm toned desk lamp.

"Hey, kid, I'm not goin' anywhere."

Satoru smiled but Megumi wouldn't meet his eye.

"'Cause it's Christmas?"

Satoru's smile widened and this time, he did pat Megumi's head.

"Nah, 'cause I don't want to."

[your-hockey-mom]

loved your sick gf/helpful quinn post

can we get a sick quinn this time? I feel like he'd be a big baby when he's sick

Quinn had coughed all night.

It had started off small but had quickly developed into something more consistent and with a persistent wheeze alongside it. He seemed so uncomfortable: tossing and turning, trembling with the chills and cold sweats. It seemed like with each passing hour a new symptom appeared: from the cough to finally the body aches. You wanted to soothe his pain and make him comfortable but he just pushed you away, It had kind of hurt your feelings having him reject you time and again, but you were just trying to help. Best you could do was tell yourself it was just because he felt bad and that he didn't mean to be that way.

By this point, you couldn't sleep. Quinn's constant shifting and coughing had given you no peace or himself for that matter. Sometime in the night, you grabbed your pillow and went to the sofa instead, You didn't want to leave him, but if he was sick, he would need someone to care for him come the morning. If you were running on a couple hours sleep, it wasn't going to be you; you might as well be sick right alongside of him.

Even from the living room, you could hear him cough, hear the wheeze cause him so much pain with its ability to take his breath away. You probably didn't sleep any more on the sofa than you would have beside him. Every so often you'd force yourself to get up and check on him. He had a fever and was burning up yet he appeared to be asleep. Quinn needed medicine and as soon as possible but you weren't about to wake him up to take any. Instead, you'd dig through the bathroom cabinets and find some multi-symptom cough syrup. The label said it would help counteract each of the things Quinn was dealing with but would it be enough? You'd leave it on his bedside table for the next time a coughing fit woke him.

When morning came around he seemed worse. Congestion had set in and it had changed the sound of his voice to something nasally instead of its usually velvety tone. Getting him to take anything was like pulling teeth because he just wanted to lay with the pillow over his head, hidden from everything especially the morning light. Though Quinn wasn't normally the dramatic type, when he was sick, it was like the end of the world.

"Baby, please, just take this and I'll leave you alone. That's all I asking you to do."

"I'm fine. I just-- I'm fine," he said from under the covers.

"You're not and you know it. Please, just take it?"

"I just need to sleep it off."

You tried to contain your sigh but it was hard. He was being completely unreasonable and it was starting to wear on your nerves. If he just took the medicine it would help but getting him to see that point wasn't going your way. This wasn't the first time he had probably felt like this, so why was he being such a baby?

"Why won't you take it, Quinn?"

There was a long pause. You knew he wasn't asleep. Was he ignoring you in the hopes that you'd give up and just walk away? If that were the case, you were close to it.

"Okay, fine. Suit yourself." Leaving the medicine on the table, you'd leave the room defeated. What else were you supposed to do? He didn't want to be touched, loved on, or anything but left alone. At least that's how it seemed. Even simple conversations were proving to be a battle.

You shut the bedroom door behind you and went to the kitchen. Food didn't seem like the magical end-all-be-all cure to his cold but if he didn't want it then you'd just take it for yourself. Soup seemed like the best choice even if it was the cliche option. "Comforting to the soul and stomach," your mom always said when you were sick. However, a quick assessment of the pantry revealed you didn't have what you needed for soup.

Instead of sticking your head back into the bedroom to let him know you were headed out, you texted his phone saying something similar.

"I going to the store. I'll be back in a bit."

Short and painfully to the point. It wouldn't be until you were in Quinn's car that you felt guilty for how you had come off. You'd text him once more before finally leaving; trying to rewrite your sour attitude towards him.

"I love you."

- - -

When you returned to the apartment, you could see signs of life that hadn't been there before. The cough medicine was now on the island; the used dosing cup had remnants of the syrup still in the bottom, A loaf of bread was poorly wrapped up alongside it, and what looked like a simple cheese sandwich sat on a napkin with one bite taken out of it. And finally, on the sofa, was a bundled up Quinn, his tangled curls spilling out over one of the pillows he rested his head on.

"Hi," he said, when you walked past him. His tone was defeated, moping even. Had you hurt his feelings? It wasn't your intention to, but it was just frustrating trying to help someone who just came off like they would rather stay miserable.

"Hi, baby."

"Where did you go? I came out and you were gone." Quinn didn't lift his head off the pillow or even his eyes. When you looked over at him he was looking at your feet.

"I texted you. I went to the store to get stuff to make you soup."

"I haven't looked at my phone. You didn't have to do that." His monotone was worse now, tinged slightly with his own flavour of annoyance.

Had you been in a worse mood, you would have said something about checking his phone, but instead you were able to bite your tongue. He didn't feel good, you had to remind yourself of this fact. This wasn't your Quinn - your sweet Huggy Bear - this was someone struggling with their body fighting against them to get better. You knew Quinn would never purposefully give you an attitude or be short with you, and the same should have been said about you.

"I'm sorry I was short with you, Quinn," you finally get out. You had hoped that would have removed some weight from your chest but instead it only made it heavier. He still wouldn't look at you. In fact, he closed his eyes after you had spoken your apology. Seeing him ignore you that way felt terrible, but you felt you had earned his cold shoulder. You had been sick a few times since you had been together and Quinn had been so kind and selfless. What had given you the right to be so unsympathetic?

"It's fine," he said, snuggling deeper into his self-made cocoon.

"It's not fine." Your heart hurts as you cross the room to kneel before where he lay. "Honey, I'm sorry." You brush the sweat-matted hair from his forehead. He was burning up with fever but this time he managed to look at you. He looked like he could melt into tears at any moment.

"I'm sorry I ignored you earlier," he replied, meeting you halfway with his own apology.

"You don't feel good, Quinn, it's okay. I'm sorry I got mad. I had no right to."

Quinn sniffled, either from the congestion or just because he was getting that emotional. Either way, you leaned forward and gave him a tender kiss to his forehead. This made the faintest smile appear on his half-concealed lips.

"You probably shouldn't kiss me," he mumbles, silently thankful for the gentle affection. Deep down, he wanted it; wanted to be babied and taken care of but instead of asking for it, he just found himself coming off as hard-headed.

"It's alright," you reassure him, a second kiss finding its mark along with the first. "I'll just get sick right with you."

"I don't want you to get sick, though."

"I know you don't but sometimes it happens. At least we'll have soup." You give him a smile, the first one that day. He returns the sentiment.

"What kind?"

"Broccoli cheddar and the classic chicken noodle. Which do you want first?"

"You got stuff for both?" His little voice sounded shocked, amazed that you'd treat him to two different types of soup varieties. Sometimes it was the little things that made the biggest impact.

"Of course I did."

Quinn tries to sit but gets winded halfway through, a coughing fit taking what strength he had built up.

"Oh, baby, you need to rest. How about you get a nap and I'll wake you up when I get something done?"

"Okay."

"It's okay, sweetheart, I'll manage." You wink, trying to reassure him that everything would be okay, and that you could handle some soup-making alone. When you stood up, you caught the subtle trembling from under his blanket. "I'm going to get you another blanket, okay?"

"Okay."

Those short responses you recognized were the best he could do at the time and didn't strike a nerve like they had earlier. But walking away from him still hurt like it had the first time, and you could feel his eyes on you still. From a tote under your bed, you found a heated blanket your parents had sent you after you made the decision to move to Vancouver. Hopefully this would bring Quinn some more consistent heat despite his body running his internal thermostat like a child left unsupervised.

"Here, baby, this should help you. Do you want this overtop or...?"

"I want that one," he said, pulling the original one from his body as best he could.

"It's okay, it's okay. Here, let me get it," you say, helping Quinn untuck himself before draping him with the ultra-plush heated one. "Should be nice and hot in just a few minutes."

"Thank you," he said, gripping it tightly. "Thanks for helping me."

"Thank you for letting me. I'm going to go make you some soup, okay? I'll try to be quiet so I don't wake you."

"I'll just...I'll be right here," he said through a yawn, the medicine finally kicking in and lulling him to sleep.

[endereies]

ENDEREIES' CHRISTMAS

Finally! It's fucking Christmas, cannot believe I didn't crash out just yet. To be honest, with a few more days left of the year I have all opportunity to do so. With it now being this festive holiday I thought it would be nice to give my mutuals a little bit of that festive cheer. I know not everyone celebrates Christmas so this won't be entirely Christmas themed, yet, it will be a cute little paragraph dedicated to a few of my mutuals or followed blogs. SO WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, I PRESENT ENDEREIES' CHRISTMAS!!

@phone4pills - I am on my way to wrap a wreath and ribbon around you and Robot!Chris' dick. On a serious note, you are so fucking talented and it blows my mind every time. The amount of thought and dedication that you put into your work is so admirable. I hope your holidays aren't as drab as this UK weather but nonetheless I'll be creating Robot!Chris as soon as possible (we are sharing custody). LOVE YOU AND YOUR WORK SO MUCH

@pasteldreams - OH MY FUCK, CAN WE TALK ABOUT YOUR MOODBOARDS FOR A MOMENT. I am so impressed by them all and if you see me stalking... no you don't! The images are perfect for each colour and you bet your ass that Avery and I were going feral on them. I'm so excited to read your fics when they surface. On my way to stalk the moodboards right now. But I love your moodboards and of course, the person who created them

@strnilolover - Gabby!!! Oh fuck I have too many things to say to you. You're so talented, I know I have yapped about your au's so many times but it's because they are STUNNING. They are produced so well. Everything you write is. When I am sent your works early, I am blown away. The descriptions, the dialogue, it is perfection on my screen. But all work aside, you're such a sweet person and I love talking to you every day. Even with our time differences, we still spend hours talking. Either about tumblr, fic ideas, edits or just random shit. In your post, you said you saw me as a bigger account and were slightly intimidated to talk to me BUT THATS HOW I FELT ABOUT YOUUU. I was in AWE over your work and the way you wrote (I still am) it's crazy to me how we are mutuals BUT I LOVE YOU TO THE MOON AND BACK BABY

@hearts4werka - YOUR INBOX MESSAGES MAKE ME SMILE EVERY TIME. I know we don't interact as much as every fucking hour but when we do we have such nice conversations through our inboxes, I just wake up to a message from you and I am immediately smiling ear to ear. The first interaction was about my profile and the last was about seeing a biker look like Matt. Duality of friendship for SURE. Buying you merch bc yes.

@streamermattsgf - SAGEEEEEEEE We are fairly new mutuals and I thank Cece for showing me your account which then led to me seeing the Sturniolo Tumblr Awards. That idea was so sweet and creative and definitely brought the community together. I was even on there at one point which actually blows my mind but I digress. You're so sweet in everything you do, when there was hate about the awards you handled it in the most perfect way which I will always give credit for

@thenickgirl - MY FAVOURITE NICK ACCOUNT ON THIS APP YESSIR. Nick and Jalen are my babies, you cannot change my mind. Tumblr definitely lacks in Nick content and I will forever love yours. Everytime I'm drawing Nick or I see a tiktok, I immediately think of your account. AND YOU'RE SO KIND WHATTT ILY BBYYY I cannot wait to continue reading about Nick and Jalen as you post about them. I have to interact with you so much more than I do.

@lovesturni0l0s - ASTRIDDD I love you so so much and everything you do. We became mutuals and started talking quickly about random shit in our inboxes and they still make me giggle. They always end in appreciation too which is everything to me. I love yapping with you over random things hehehe. Your fluffmas is PERFECTION, I will always read every single one as soon as I see that it is released, just how you did on my NNN posts. You are SO supportive of everyone and it is truly so nice to see. I just want to talk with you whenever I can

@chrisweetheart - LIAAA We do NOT interact as much as I want to but whenever we do you're the kindest person everrr. Talking with you or reading your fics is always a highlight of my day. Your blog is so fucking pretty and I could admire it for hours, and I know you are the exact same. I am literally on my way with my basket of kisses.

@flouvela - My fucking bae. I've been following you for so long and when you followed me back I had a heart attack. Your writing is so cute and I love reading all of them. I still remember the one where Matt held your iced latte when it was cold outside so that you could stay warm. If she wasn't warm, my heart definitely was. You're so kind and thoughtful and definitely someone that I look up to within my writing.

@y3sterdaysproblem - Avery my baeeee I'm so so proud of what you have managed to accomplish this year. Your talent is actually so immense and anyone can see that in anything and everything that you post. Your series 'smoke and mirrors' still has me in a chokehold (I have read it 4 times). I cannot wait to see what you end up creating further along next year but just know I will support and love it all.

@chrislilcumslvt - Marls I will be forever thankful for you and your account. On anything that I post, whether it be a fic or me just yapping, I can always count on you to be one of the first people to like it. I will never get bored of your inbox messages, they are such a highlight of my week. LOVE YOU FOREVER

@issysh3ll - ISSYYYY MY AUSSIE GAL You will never fail to impress me LIKE OMGGG phases was and still is one of my favourite ever fics made in this fandom. It's so descriptive. educational which applying to the smut that this horny community love. I don't think I will ever get tired of your inbox messages, I always want to know how many wine glasses Chris can balance on his ass. If I ever have any questions I now know who to turn to

@sturnioz - CAS There are so many things about you that I could happily yap about lmao. My first introduction to you was a fic from the beginning of July, not that I even knew it then. Then your au's came along and it is safe to say I fell in love with everything you made. I am always drawn to your account and reread blurbs more times than I can count. When you followed me on your alt account I was giggling to my friends because I was stunned (I still am) I always wanna yap in your inbox but I never know what to say and lowkey I'm a little intimidated but I digress. You're so sweet whenever I am in your inbox and then I fangirl to Cece buttttt Love you and your work forever baby

@x0x0bunny - THE ONLY MUSIC ARTIST EVER, like you're talented in literally everything?? gimme some talent. And your fics are so so good. I'm so hyped to start talking about music production with you for my Producer!Chris au like it's so yummy you don't understand. I wish I interacted with you more and that shall be my new years resolution FOR SURE

@colorthecosmos444 - My big sister forever. Cece, you're literally everything to me ever. You're so kind, considerate, thoughtful and understanding at the same time. I will never get over our need for Emo!Matt, I am barking whenever he is mentioned. But I'd pick you over him any day. I love sharing my ideas with you and helping each other with everything. I WISH WE TALKED WHEN YOU WERE IN LONDON I'd rush to you in a heartbeat and show you everything. I could spend hours talking with you even if its 4am for me. Your work is perfection and no one can replace the true Emo Queen. Love you forever sis

@sturniolosiphone - AALIYAH MWAH You have the prettiest blog I ever did see and you give off the biggest Clairo vibes ever. You're work is PERFECT and no other word is fitting enough than pure perfection. Not to mention how cutsey you are when we interact with one another. You're so supportive and I will forever love talking about the triplets with you!

@missmimii - My inactive queen lol. When I first found your blog is the most heavenly thing I set my eyes on. The layout, the wording, the descriptions and such cute fics were and still are my roman empire. You are pure fucking honey and I still smile whenever your username is on my screen, it's so perfect. I will read your work so often and I will never ever get bored of it.

@55sturn - STAR one of my first mutuals on my account and I've been obsessed since day one. Your Loser!Chris x MeanGirl!Reader au is chiseled into my future gravestone so that I can read it after I die. The timeline and structure is just YES. You've been through a lot and I am forever proud of you. We may not interact a whole bunch but I love you dearly

@muwapsturniolo - PEACHESSSS It still shocks me how we are mutuals because you are the baddest bitch ever. You're like a celebrity role model to me and I'm just in awe. Not to mention how stunning your writing is, I could stare at my screen until my eyes burn just staring at your writing. LIKE I JUST LOVE YOU SO MUCH

@bernardsbendystraws - ROSEYYYFIGEDUHIJW MY DAY ONEEEEEE Baby you mean everything to me. Part of my Discord family that I cherish so much. I was honestly so intimidated by you when I met you on that server simply because of your energy. You seemed so confident and easy going which was something I could only dream of. And now we are friends and mutuals and someone I trust dearly. I will be forever proud of just how far you have come, with yourself, writing and followers. I'm forever grateful for our friendship in ways I wish I could show you. But I will always have your back in anything you do or have against you because you have done so much for me that is simply irreplaceable. We have also became so similar in how we speak which is hilarious to me as well. Love you forever and ever baby

@raysmayhem-72 - RAYYY Ugh where do I even begin. My fellow Londoner and yet we are yet to meet? That has to be fixed immediately. Talking to you is one of my favourite things ever and I love listening to you yap about books LIKE YESS LET ME SEE THOSE FICTIONAL CHARACTERS. You'll forever be my Discord family, you can't escape. Forever grateful for all the yummy conversations about everything and how willing you are to support and listen to me, it means more than you could ever know.

@pattyshome / @patscorner - PATTY CAKE You are so fucking special to me in every fucking way. Talking you is free therapy and I love you for it all. You've been through so much and every single time you still manage to have a smile on your face and continue to spread irreplaceable kindness that is too pure. Even in your current situation the efforts you make with your friends are so special. I'm so proud of you and I hope things ease up for you, I will move you to England if I have to

@bueckerrss - ARI MY EDITING PARTNER IN CRIMEEE Your edits are impeccable and your improvement is so clear to see. You've supported mine since day one and I'm so grateful for that. Even if ride or die was initially meant to be a collab with you and it wasn't, I still think of you whenever I read it again and it's now an au! Your performances are also just so satisfying to look LIKE YES POP OFF QUEEN. Another one of my day ones and I love you so fucking much.

[coffeegnomee]

I finally finished the vod and BRO. derap just reminds me so much of eclipse zam. I think that's why i forgive all his wrongs. his leading questions, his wanting proof of change of zam choosing him over mapicc.

Derap has found himself on a team that he loves dearly. That he never wants to leave. That he refuses to leave. That was there for him at his lowest, and accepted him in when he had nothing. (and he feels like the anchor to keep zam from going evil, feels like he's making positive change on zam whom he was (and still is) convinced will go insane and evil if he doesn't take care of himself)

And every conversation he thinks zam will be the one to leave him. kick him out.

Every damn meeting in eclipse zam left being like "yippee im so glad they didn't kick me off the team!" completely, completely missing the concept that vi and subz desperately loved him and didn't want him to leave. the last thing they wanted was for eclipse to fall apart. they would change and adjust the plan as much as necessary to make zam know they wanted him to stay. that they wanted him to love the project they were working towards. and every time zam said he was okay with the plan again, they breathed a sign of relief.

But every day zam swallowed his own opinion and kept moving forward with the team. and freaking derapchu is doing the same thing. there have been so many instances of this, i could never list them all. zam thought of bringing his tree from spawn to zaun and derap almost said he hated how it looked and zam shouldn't build it, but swallowed that and said if zam wanted to build it he could. he said he wanted to start going on a murder spree and zam said he didn't want that at all, and next thing you know derap is saying he doesn't want to kill anymore. There's a hundred little instances of derap realizing his opinions differ from zam's wants and he shoves his own opinions away. if he doesn't, he will be kicked off the team.

And as derap tries to bring up what his concerns are, he shoves the responsibility for deciding the fate of the team on zam. Just like zam did. zam could not tell eclipse he wanted to leave, he wanted them to choose for him.

eclipse was doomed because zam had to face the fact that he couldn't put his needs last. that he couldn't just ignore what mattered most to him. period. and because he was terrible at confrontation and communication.

and somehow derap, despite founding this team precisely upon making zam realize he needs to put himself first and be selfish, doesn't realize he needs to do that too. and that he's not doing it. even if he rebuttled zam when zam brought that up. tbh imo he switched it up fast when zam brought that point up.

it does help that zam isn't lying to derap: unfortunately eclipse was keeping secrets from zam. big secrets.

But derap is convinced zam is still lying to him. he said it and then immediately went back on it.

And fundamentally, it was not so much that eclipse lied to zam about the wormhole, and more that zam thought they were lying when they said they weren't going to be the villains. he didn't believe that it was about protecting the three of them, not taking over the server. and it was always about protecting them. vi proved that in the end with banning himself and letting spoke completely take over the project.

There is a massive conflict of interest and a deep insecure distrust. and derap cannot admit how much that bothers him. he says he's fine with zam doing things with mapicc. he says he's just wants zam to be happy. but he is so desperately unhappy. no matter how much he insists on the opposite.

devotions only got their win (yipppe!!!) because zam refused to stop talking to mapicc and mapicc felt comfortable enough saying exactly what he thought. and then zam felt comfortable saying exactly what he thought too. both aired their real grievances, not shooting hypotheticals and asking only for the other to make choices about wether or not they would stay teamed. and it earned apologies and resolution all around. devotions w.

and mapicc compromised with zam, he didn't change his opinion for him. he still thinks mawn was good, did do good, doesn't want to let it go, but thinks it's done what it was meant to do. so he is letting it fade away. zam compromised with mapicc. he still thinks mawn was too much, that he can't join it, that he won't go against it, but thinks maybe it wasn't all bad. so he's going to help mapicc if mapicc needs help. W being secure in having your own opinions.

derap keeps changing his opinion for zam.

maybe they don't fall apart. derap is not zam. everybody is unique. but damn if the parallels aren't here and aren't looming like a storm cloud over it all.

[lieslab]

Skipped through the five waves of grief

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Chan X gn reader

Summary: After being caught in the middle of your parents' messy marriage, Chan finds you after they announce their divorce.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 2.4K

Domestic abuse and depression resources

Trigger warning: Domestic abuse, mentions of anger and yelling, depression, and emotional defeat

A/N: I'm on a roll with requests. This request is also from a while ago and requestee, I made the ending silly and fluffy. Sometimes Chan gives me cuteness aggression, so in order to ease the hurt about this topic, it ends playfully. This topic is a lot emotionally speaking, so I hope this eases a bit of your burden <3

_ _ _

Parents were supposed to love each other. They were supposed to be the light of each other's lives. Tender touches and sensual kisses. Healthy communication and cemented boundaries for one another. Marriage was supposed to be a joyous celebration. It was supposed to be something that would last forever, but the rings on your parents’ ring fingers began to rust. 

You didn’t know when it first happened. So many days had been spent arguing and bickering. Kisses were withheld from one another and words were thrown. The walls used to be nurtured with sweet murmurs and ‘I love you’s.’ They turned into rot. 

Golden rings rusted and turned their skin green and blue. They cut off blood circulation to their hearts and morphed them into something indescribable. The same reasons that they fell in love, it was the same reason why that love crumbled apart years later. 

The compliments from your mom turned into your father’s annoyance. Your father’s independence swallowed him whole and pig-headedness led him to push your mother away. Simple conversations began to get louder as anger burst out of each of their lungs. 

And you? You were innocent in this entire thing. Your existence was proof that they loved each other, but that was a long time ago. Every year that you grew older, it was another year that their connected flame began to shrink. Smaller and smaller until it snuffed out all together. 

It was easier to use you. The two of them managed to avoid one another like crazy, but you became the scapegoat. A ping pong ball that was forced to hit the board between both of them. Over and over and over and over again. 

“Mom said-” 

“Dad wants you to-” 

“Mom wants to know if you-” 

“Dad wanted me to ask you-” 

It always led to you feeling awful. You were no longer their kid, but rather a pigeon that was forced to carry their notes back and forth. Your back ached from the emotional toil and your brain suffered from their attitudes, but they didn’t see that. 

When a wave of anger was shoved towards you because you were the messenger, you forced yourself to take it. Day in and day out, you were just a cog in their toxic wheel of romance. The romance died, but their bitterness towards each other didn’t. So you bowed and you leaped. You took each cue with hesitation and a held breath. As time went on, your house turned into a battlefield with yourself as the victim. 

Too focused on fighting one another, neither parent understood the holes that they were drilling into your heart. They didn’t understand the ache in your bones and the curdled marrow. Even after you moved out, you still felt the effects of their disintegrating marriage. 

Text messages blew up your phone from both parties. Fingers pointed and both of them blamed the other for things falling apart. Despite you not being home, they still asked you to check in with the other for one reason or the next. 

No matter how miserable it made you, you complied. You didn’t want something to happen and cause the two of them to do something indescribable. Their violence came out in curses and shrieks. Flinging arms, bulging veins, and red faces. If that anger built and snapped, you weren’t sure if it’d ever truly get physical, but that thought worried you. 

You moved out months ago. When Chan suggested that the two of you grab a place, you agreed in a heartbeat. It provided some comfort away from your parents and for once, you felt like you could finally breathe. Neither of their hands were wrapped around your lungs and squeezing to leave you breathless. 

So the two of you went apartment shopping. You picked out furniture and paint colors. Fortunately for the two of you, the landlord was a sweeter older lady. She didn’t mind what you did with the place, as long as you had her permission before you began a project, she was pretty relaxed about most things that other landlords hated. 

You slathered your shared room with a brighter version of your favorite color. At least, by using that shade, it’d keep you rather upbeat. It was better than the last room that you had. Plus, the room was bigger, so you had more space to play with and freely added more and more objects. 

You and Chan had been living at the place for nearly a year. You had your job and he had his. The two of you grew accustomed to one another’s schedules. You went grocery shopping together every week and took turns divvying up the chores. Besides the shitshow from your parents, life was treating you fairly well. 

When you came home from work, you kicked off your dirty shoes, left them by the door, and headed into the kitchen. You were on duty to make dinner and you already knew what you were making. For the past two days, you had been planning to make this special dish tonight. 

Two days ago, your parents got into a huge fight. You didn’t know what happened until your mother informed you the next day. The verbal altercation was so loud that someone alerted the cops. When the cops broke it up, it was so bad that both of your parents had to be separated and calmed down. 

Your heart ached at the news. You felt awful because you didn’t know and couldn’t stop it. Guilt weighed upon your heart heavily. Maybe if you could have been there, you could have stopped it from happening. 

You carried the guilt and burden from things that you didn’t have to. It was one of those things that you couldn’t help. You grew up with your parents being dependent on you during their heated moments and when you weren’t there to stop it from escalating, it made you feel like shit deep down. 

You knew that it wasn’t really your fault. You weren’t responsible for their reactions, but it still felt like you were. If one of them would have alerted you, you would have dropped everything and rushed over. Anything to get them away from potentially hurting each other. 

Picking out the best knife, you took your time cutting the vegetables. You washed them and one-by-one, you placed them on the chopping board and began to dice and slice. Mince the garlic, ignore the sharp scent on your hands, and continue on to the next step. 

Chan would be home from work soon and the past few days, the two of you had been consuming frozen prepackaged food and ramen. Time had been relatively short for both of you and it was something quick and easy. Chan had been discussing wanting a homemade meal and you were thrilled to provide one for him. 

You continued to follow through the steps, but you stopped when your phone vibrated. Worried that Chan had to stay over at the studio, you washed your hands and pulled out your phone. You were expecting Chan, but when you pulled up the message, it was from your mother instead. 

“Your father and I are getting a divorce.” 

You read the words over and over and over again, trying to make sure you read them right. In the past, when anyone mentioned your parents divorcing, they each scoffed at the idea, stating that it took too much effort. 

For months, you had been praying for this moment, but now that you were here, you felt defeated. Your heart weighed heavily in your chest. Instead of responding right away, you left your mother on read, and you tossed the phone onto the nearby counter. 

Days and days of emotional torment finally broke the camel’s back. Your hands shook and tears collected in your eyes. Your legs wobbled and you desperately reached out to grab the kitchen counter. There wasn’t time to catch your weight before your legs slipped from beneath you. 

You hit the ground with a gasp. For so long, you felt so burdened by the scenario. Throwing knives struck your heart and they had been embedded there for so long. This information was like jerking them out all at once. 

How many times had you been involved in fights along with them? When a parent got too mad and the pendulum of anger swung towards you. You had kept it inside for so long. You were still just their kid, but your parents weren’t there to comfort the unsealed hurt that leaked out. 

Twenty minutes later, Chan sang the latest chorus of the new song that he’d been working on. He sang beneath his breath and bobbed his head. With a clicking tongue and humming of the last few notes, he spun the silver key ring around his finger. 

The two of you always kept the door locked no matter what. Even when the other was home, you still used your keys to get in. It was easier that way and you were anxious about strangers. Chan thought it was a bit silly, but he went along with it to make you feel better. 

He headed inside and kicked off his shoes. He pulled off his bag’s side strap and placed it on the couch. His laptop, hoodie, and an empty bottle sat inside. His tongue clicked again and he bobbed his head while walking into the kitchen. 

He spotted the half sliced carrot and the minced garlic. A few plastic bottles full of spices sat off to the side. Pork belly had been pulled from the fridge and a pan sat on the stove, but you were missing. 

His head tilted and he spun around to go find you. Knowing you, you were probably in the bathroom or you got distracted and went back to the bedroom. The floor creaked beneath his feet and he walked past the open bathroom door. 

The bedroom door was also open and when he stuck his head in, you were gone. Your unspoken name sat on the tip of his tongue, but it never rolled off. His head jerked backwards, wondering if he missed you somewhere, but with another look around the apartment, he couldn’t find you. 

“Where’d you go?” He mumbled beneath his breath. He headed back to the kitchen with a hand rubbing the side of his neck. It wasn’t like you to come up missing randomly. 

He walked further into the kitchen, up to the spices to see if you left a note. It was only then that he saw the hunched up figure off to the side. He frowned and headed towards you. “Whattcha doin’ down there?” 

His thick Australian accent usually made you laugh, but it never came. Sometimes he exaggerated his accent to make you laugh and this was one of those times. However, your usual smile didn’t appear. You were curled against the corner of wooden cabinets with your knees to your chest. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He frowned and crouched down beside you. “Did you hurt yourself while cutting the vegetables?” 

Your eyes were red and so were the tops of your cheeks. Your head weakly shook and the worry in his heart grew. “Then what happened? Why are you down here?” 

“My parents are getting a divorce.” 

He blinked and let the words sink in. He didn’t really know anything about your parents. A breath was sucked in through clenched teeth. “I’m really sorry about that.” 

Your head shook. “Don’t be. I’ve been wanting them to get divorced for a while, but I just-” You leaned down and let your chin rest on the top of your knees. “I don’t know. I’m relieved and I feel miserable about it all at once. A lot of the time, they used me to communicate with one another. I’m happy, but I’m empty and I also feel hurt.” 

“I fought a lot with my dad and I don’t know how to put it all together. There’s a hundred feelings all at once. I’m so happy it happened, but I just…” 

“Wish it happened earlier, so you didn’t have to be involved so much?” 

You finally nodded and swallowed. “Yeah, I guess that’s it. My mom texted me a while ago and I needed a moment to let it sink in.” 

“So you picked the dirty kitchen floor?” He teased you slightly.

“I just cleaned this floor last night.” 

“And it’s such a shame that I might have spilled milk on it late last night.” 

Your head went back up. “You didn’t clean it up? What’s wrong with you?” 

He laughed and pulled away. “I’m just kidding! Of course, I cleaned it up. It would have smelled nasty if it sat and curdled.” He stood up and stretched his hands out towards you. 

“I think this calls for a celebration of sorts. It looks like you were in the middle of making something, so I’m going to help you. Let’s do something to take your mind off it.” 

You reached up and he tugged you up with ease. The moment you were back on your feet, he yanked you towards him. You squeaked  as he wrapped you in a tight hug. 

His forehead found the side of your neck. You tried to squirm away, but he held you tighter. Warm lips softly pressed against your skin. You cried his name and tried to lean back again, but he didn’t let go. 

“Stop trying to escape my love.” His breath was warm on your skin. He planted another soft kiss against your pulse point. “Just let me love my baby.” 

Your head leaned back with a loud whine. “You’re giving me your cooties and it tickles. How am I supposed to tolerate it? I can’t help that I’m ticklish!” 

He giggled and kissed the side of your neck once more before he gave up. His arms remained around your waist and he let his head nuzzle against you. “You know, one day I might marry you.” 

“Oh brother.” 

“What do you mean?” He pulled his head back in mock offense. “We’re going to have the best marriage of all time. Maybe we might even end up with kids.” 

“Too fast and too soon bucko.” 

“Bucko?” 

“Bucko.” 

His parted lips began to turn into a smirk. When you saw the glint in his eyes, you quickly jerked backwards. “Now wait a-” 

“Come ‘er.” 

You spun around and took off. He chased after you with his hands out. His fingers wiggled, a silent threat to tickle you. You shrieked and rushed out of the kitchen. He giggled as he hurried after you. 

Your parents’ marriage might have ended in divorce and heartbreak, but with Chan, you were certain your marriage would be eternal. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lina-linny @straykidsstanforeverandever @seungnishi @stellasays45

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi

[stayteezdreams]

Christmas Comfort

Plot: You expected to be spending this Christmas alone, left with your own thoughts and loneliness. But your boyfriend and best friends have a surprise for you.

Pairing: Han Jisung x Gn!Reader (est. relationship) + Reader & Stray Kids

A/n's: I'm gonna be real with you, this fic is entirely self serving and a comfort fic for myself. I lost both of my parents this year and they were the only close family I had left. So I will be alone for Christmas for the first time. So I wanted to write something to give myself a little comfort, and help anyone else who might be in a similar situation. I did not give any particulars for why the reader is alone, so hopefully more people can relate if they are alone this Christmas too.

Warnings: Mentions of loneliness, general sadness. Angsty but comforting.

Words: 2k

It felt odd, being alone for Christmas. Before, you would be celebrating with family or friends, enjoying the usual traditions, foods, and movies. You'd have fun decorating the house and the tree. But it was all different this year.

The traditions became memories. The foods unmade; the movies unwatched. Aside from a few decorations you set around your apartment, nothing in your home told you it was Christmas at all. No lights. No tree. No presents. Nothing.

You never really expected that it would end just like that.

If you had known last Christmas would have been the last one you had the way you were used to, you would have cherished it more.

It wasn’t that you hated Christmas now, or didn’t want to celebrate, you just didn’t see the point. Not when you were alone.

You enjoyed talking to your boyfriend Han about all the things he was doing with his family, the group chat between you and the boys was lively. You didn’t tell them how you were feeling, or that you were completely alone. They knew things were different this year, but you had hidden a lot of it from them.

You didn’t want to take away their joy of celebrating with their families after working so hard. They had all been gone for about a week now, and you admittedly did miss them. Their presence made it a lot easier for you to escape the threatening emotions lingering beneath. Now that they were gone, it was getting harder.  

It was three days before Christmas, and you could feel it slowly getting harder to feel nothing.

When the boys asked you what you were doing, you never really lied, but you didn’t tell them the whole truth. Yes, you did bake Christmas cookies, but they were for your neighbors you barely even knew. You did decorate, by putting a wreath on your door, and setting out a couple cute pillows.

You weren’t necessarily sad or disappointed in not having a real Christmas this year. But you had to admit, it felt…empty. Nothing would feel the same again and you knew that. But next year, it will be different. It won’t be as difficult to find the familiar Christmas joy. But this year, you would have to grow comfortable with your own company for now. And just hope that the lingering feeling deep in your gut won’t become too unbearable.

You could do this. You can do it. It will be okay. You may be lonely now, but you aren’t alone.

Looking at the group chat as an array of messages came through, you smiled and scoffed at the jokes and playful insults. Something clenched in your chest, and you took a deep breath.

You had such a good handle on your emotions. You were doing okay. You’re okay.

“I’m okay.” You mumbled to yourself, trying to settle your quivering heart.

Setting aside your phone, you went back to reading your book, forgetting about the group chat, and missing the slow awareness by the others that you were slowly talking less and less over the last few days.

You were also unaware of the conversations going on in the group chat you weren’t a part of. The discussions of a plan nearly finished.

Did you think they wouldn’t notice? How you would slowly drop from the conversations that centered around Christmas. That you would be excited for everyone but give vague replies when it came to yourself. Did you think they didn’t know you were alone? That you were hurting in ways you were too afraid to worry them with?

You were family. Even if you convinced yourself, you weren’t as important as that to them.

Han tried to bring you back to visit his family with him, but you had to work. But he also knew it was because it would be difficult for you to adjust right now, to being in the middle of someone else’s Christmas, someone else’s traditions, you wanted familiarity. But you no longer had that.

It was Han’s plan originally, to go home as early as he could, celebrate with his family, and return to you. When the others heard this, they wanted to join too. They all knew how hard this year was for you. And how hard you were trying to hide it. They wanted you to know you weren’t alone, they didn’t want you to wallow in your own pain.

“Hello?” You asked with a smile as you answered Han’s call.

“Babbyyyy.” He said loudly, making you chuckle.

“Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“I just went on a walk remember. Oh, then I stopped at a little café, but I’, heading back home now. How about you? Did you go to the market with your mom?”

“Nope!”

“Oh, then what?”

“I was preparing a secret Christmas surprise.”

“Uh oh.”

“Uh-oh? What do you mean uh-oh?!” His sassy tone made you laugh. “I’ll have you know it’s the best surprise I’ve ever pulled off!”

“Oh really? What is this surprise then?”

“I’m not telling you now!”

You laughed, “Oh come on! I wanna know!”

“You really wanna know?”

“Yes.”

“Let me ask you something first.”

“Okay?”

“Are you okay?”

Your heart jumped a bit, and you let out a soft laugh, though it was forced. “What?”

“You haven’t been responding to the group chat, and your texts with me are always vague. I wanted to know if you were lying about being okay.”

Your heart was pounding a bit now, “Why are you suddenly asking that?”

“Because I want you to know I noticed. That I didn’t miss it. That none of us did.”

You stopped in your tracks for a moment, how could you expect Han to not notice you weren’t okay? He noticed everything about you, even when he wasn’t there. It was one of the reasons you loved him so much. He saw you, in ways no one else did.

The boys too. They were always there when you needed them, even when you didn’t ask. They always noticed when you went quiet for a little too long. They noticed when you seemed withdrawn or evasive. And then they wouldn’t leave you alone until you told them everything.  

Halfway through your walk today, you spent a little too long thinking about the things you no longer had. You cried. For the first time in a while. You had always stopped the tears before they fell, but today you couldn’t.

It was Christmas and you were so sad.

But Han made you smile, and you loved him for that. And now he was telling you he knew, somehow, that you weren’t okay anymore. That you failed at keeping it together.

“You knew this Christmas was going to be a hard one for me.” You said softly.

He asked if you wanted him to stay, to not go home, but you refused. You would not take that from him, no matter what was going on with you. So, he left, reluctantly, but he left.

“Of course I knew.”

You felt tears brimming in your eyes again as you reached your door. “I was just hoping I was wrong.” You finished softly.

“Hey baby?” Han’s voice was suddenly quiet.

“Hmm?” You unlocked your door, waiting for his response.

“Merry Christmas.”

As the door swung open, you came face to face with not only Han, phone still to his ear, but all of the boys, sitting around your living room. Their faces held smiles, as they anxiously waited for your reaction to them being here.

Your house was covered in Christmas lights and decorations. And in the previously empty corner, was a large Christmas tree. On the wall, a line of stockings filled with what you assumed was candy.

Littering the tables and floor were various loose decorations, tinsel and boxes. You assumed while you had gone out, Han, having his own key, snuck all of them in and they decorated your house as much as they could before you returned.

“Wh- how-“you hesitated as you looked around at them in surprise.

“Surprise!” They all cheered out, Changbin tossing tinsel in the air as Lee Know twirled around some ribbon.

Your eyes locked with Han’s as he slowly put down the phone with a grin. Unable to stop the sudden emotions that came over you, tears became obvious as you stared at them all, still in shock, but overcome with emotions you had been repressing.

Their faces changed from bright smiles to looks of concern mixed with relief. This is what they wanted, but they hated it at the same time. You needed to let everything out that you had been holding in. And now it was happening.

Han rushed forward and pulled you into a hug, the others stood around, allowing him the moment as you cried into his shoulder.

He gently swayed you as he hushed you and gently rubbed his hands down your back. “I know baby. But I’m here now, okay?”

Slowly, the others surrounded you, hugging you and patting your head, giving you comforting words and reassurance.

After a few moments you stepped away from Han and looked around at them before letting out a strangled laugh, knowing you must look terrible now. “Why did you all come here?”

“Because you’re our family Y/n.” Chris said as if it was obvious. “And we never leave our family alone.”

“We’re sorry we didn’t tell you we were going to come back.” Felix added in, “Originally it was just Han’s idea, then we all decided we wanted to surprise you too.”

“We hated that you were suffering alone without telling us.” Hyunjin broke in, a frown on his face.

You looked at Han, “You were always planning on coming back early?”

He nodded, “You told me I had to go see my family, I did.”

“But it’s Christmas.”

“Exactly!” Lee Know said with a somewhat harsh, but at the same time caring, tone, “And you were alone. That’s unacceptable.”

“We got to spend time with our families.” Chris started, “And now we are doing it again, here, with you.”

You sniffled again as another wave of emotions threatened to spill out. You wanted to protest some more, but you knew there was no point. They were here now, and even if part of you wished they hadn’t left their families for you, you were relieved, and so grateful that they cared enough for you to come back.

“Thank you.” You mumbled out as you repressed the urge to cry again.

Seungmin ruffled your hair, “Don’t cry anymore Y/n, you’re ugly when you cry!”

Turning, you smacked him, making him laugh, which in return made you smile. Changbin grabbed at him while jokingly cursing at him for what he said.

Han grabbed you and pulled you back into his chest as he playfully pointed threateningly at Seungmin before he wrapped his arms protectively around you.

After everyone settled down, and you had finished crying, for the most part. You sat down on the couches as the boys decided to surprise you with presents.

“What are all these?”

“We got you presents, duh!” Seungmin said as he waved one in front of your face.

“Oh, wait!” You said as you rose before sprinting off to another room. When you came back, you had a large box in your hand full of wrapped presents. “I planned to give these to you when you came back.”

There was a chorus of ‘awes’ and gasps as you set down the box of their presents.

“Gift exchange!” Han said happily as he pulled you into his lap.

As everyone playfully argued about who should open something first, you looked around at them with a grateful smile.

Yes, the heartache of change still sat heavy in your chest. But one thing that would never change was this. Your found family. The ones who knew you inside and out.

Han, who loved every part of you and accepted you. Who always made you smile and feel wanted.

And your friends, your brothers, who took care of you in ways you never had before.

Yes, things were different now, and the pain of that would still linger for a long time. But you had them. You weren’t alone. Not anymore, and never again.

xx End xx

And that's it for the 12 Days of Christmas 2024!

I know if sort of ended on an angsty note, but I hope you all enjoyed the fics!

((Taglist Form))

12 Days of Christmas Taglist: @multi-fandommaniac, @mbruben-stein

General Taglist:  @charmsprout, @brattybunfornct, @bahng-chrizz, @otakutrash669,

@tinyelfperson, @pinievsev, @teenyfinds, @everythingboutkpop,

@shymexican, @stillwjk-channie-lixie, @alexxavicry

Stray Kids Taglist: @laylasbunbunny, @skz1-4-3, @prettymiye0n, @thunderous-wolf, @thedistractedwriter,

@briqnne, @dinossaurz, @carattinymoa, @stay3096,

@vnessalau, @3rachasninja, @life-is-a-game-of-thrones

Han: @dear-dreamie

[frillydolle]

ok idk if u have done this before but what abt low honor arthur x shy/easily flustered reader…been thinking abt this for awhile

lowhonor arthur x shy female reader

꒰ 𝝑𓏲 ꒱ arthur is a little pervy , suggestive themes?

he was terrifying, mean, and even sadistic man. those rumoured whispers explained a lot about him in that way. there was no remorse from a man like him, no mercy, either. to be one of the worst men that's involved with the infamous gang. the most wanted man within the states, there wasn't a day that he didn't come back with someone's blood on his hands.

he was disgusting and vile. probably the most perverted man u have ever come across, too. his unannounced touching would often catch u off guard. the women in the camp always gave him a sort of a dirty or death state, knowing that kind of man arthur is now ever since the relationship ended between him and mary. that took a toll on him more than people thought.

not with u, though. he knew that gaze made u feel uneasy, made u squirm, almost like a coyote watching its prey. it's like he enjoyed it, too. u weren't the social butterfly. u kept to urself or the small group of girls u would do chores with or u would be often see talking the only man, arthur. to be honest, u were even sure how he felt about u, it's not like many spoke to u.

he made the man stay away from u, but that's a different conversation...

u didn't even need to turn around, knowing who it was coming towards u by their hard footsteps. “hey, babydoll. missed my favourite girl while i was away.” he says with that cocky smirk on his face, leaning against the pole behind u, totally not looking at ur rear while u hand washed some clothes.

“hi morgan, I've been okay.. keepin' busy like-” “good girl. as y'should be. wouldnt want ms. grinshaw gettin' mad atcha.”

she was a terrifying woman, ms. grinshaw.. but not as terrifying as arthur, of course. he was the worst. but arthur liked her a lot. he wasn't sure how to tell, and so he often showed her through his actions... like his weird, perverted touching and words.

he told u to come here, and once u were finished cleaning, of course, u made ur way over to him before he took u round the wagon, no one was there. this was strange but u did sort of like him.. u didn't know why. he was always odd with u, but u did find a small sense of comfort in him every time he brings a small gift to u as he comes back to camp.

“have i ever told ya how pretty y'look? 'course i have.." he says, his tone laced with roughness. his big hand soon glides down to ur waist, gripping the flesh so hard that it light leave a mark later, curse him.

“thank you, arthur-” u reply, feeling ur face rise with heat, squirming slightly under his intense gaze, all embarrassed. “y'know what else would make ya prettier? some little hickeys on yer neck, my girl.”

was he being honest?... well, of course he was. he was a very serious man, not the type to be funny unless it was one of sick jokes. anyway, he could do not that, the two of u were in camp! someone might see u both, ms. grinshaw might catch u or even dutch! and that woukd be a lot more embarrassing than how red ur face is right now.

“arth- we cant, i- we'll get caught- arthur!” ur gentle protests mean nothing as he took a hold of ur wrists, making u back up against the wagon. he inhaled ur scent of lavender and pine, made the man almost crazy.

“lemme mark ya up, so everyone can see how I feel 'bout ye. c'mon sugar, i might be gentle but dont count on it.”

god it was like u couldn't move or couldn't talk, u didn't know what to say, how to react. ur face was all flushed with his words, it wasn't a surprise that he'd be flirting with u now.

and soon, he began toying with the collar of ur blouse. soon that felt to unbutton the top few buttons before he inched closer to mark u up.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

nymph. [part 4] l General Marcus Acacius

Summary:  you have been with him for a long time, but he has never seen you. but everything has changed.

Warnings:  +18, smut, fluff, maybe a little bit of angst, gods and mythology are treated in a simple way

A/N: part 4. I secretly hope you'll be gentle with me. I'm very curious about what your thoughts will be after this chapter. Please remember that I'd love to hear your comments and ideas. And especially when it comes to the ending of this part… I'll leave you alone now. I send you all my love.

I hope you will be gentle with me. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

nymph [masterlist]

"She's not from here."

Marcus raised his eyes and followed his old friend's gaze. They could see your silhouette between the trees. It was a beautiful, sunny day and you and Melitta were spending it in the garden. 

The young girl had become your companion, although Marcus had often noticed the embarrassment and delight in her eyes almost simultaneously when she looked at you.

"No, she's not," he confirmed. "But would you believe me if I told you?"

Brutus smiled, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening. "I'm old enough to believe anything." he said. "But please, Marcus. Don't tell me things you should keep to yourself. Here," he pointed to the General's broad chest. "Everything is safer here."

Brutus' gray eyes wandered back to the garden. He had known Marcus when he was a child, his father had been Brutus' friend, and after his death he had surrounded the young man with care. He had never seen a woman in his house before, and he certainly didn't know of any that Acacius would look at in such a way.

"You love her." He said.

He didn't have to ask. He was at an age where certain things were simply obvious to him. Like this.

"I do." Marcus sighed. "More than anything."

"That's good. You can't fight the whole world without someone close to you. But she's not from here. Is she free?"

Marcus's eyebrows drew together. "I didn't take her as a concubine or a slave. She's free, more than any of us."

"Her family?" he saw a shadow in Acacius's gaze. "I see. Don't explain it, Marcus. She shouldn't appear among people without a background. Let's think..."

A warm wind blew through the window, playing with the delicate curtains, carrying with it the sweet scent of flowers. Brutus took a sip of wine and cleared his throat.

"You should say that her parents died when she was still a child. It would be safest." he said, and Marcus fixed his gaze on him, listening carefully. "Later, some distant family member took care of her. It wasn't a significant family. You met and fell in love, simply. Don't mention her origins, don't pay attention to her. Some may gossip about you, but it will quickly die down."

"I'm not afraid of gossip, only of her safety." Acacius replied. "I am the General, and I'm afraid that I won't be able to ensure the safety of the one I love."

Brutus nodded his gray head in understanding. "The gods must be favorable to you if you found each other in this vast world. It's a good sign."

And he really hoped that his friend was right.

A dozen or so days at Marcus' house passed quickly. You didn't find boredom there. Melitta accompanied you every day, slowly becoming a close friend. 

Antigonus, on the other hand, strived to ensure that all your requests, or at least those that General Acacius agreed to, were fulfilled. So although he sometimes grumbled something under his breath, he let you sit for hours in a room full of maps and writings, which you looked through, and then in the evenings you asked Marcus about them.

His duties to the Emperor and Rome didn't allow him to spend as much time with you as he would have liked, but the thought that he was coming back to you was something that kept him sane. 

Never before had this house been filled with such conversations and feelings. Never before had he felt as if he was hiding the most precious treasure. You.

"If you knew the true faces of the gods, your eyes would turn white." You said one evening, turning in the sheets. The glow of the candles danced on your bare back, and your hair was in a sweet mess. "All those carvings in the temples, the paintings - poof! - nonsense. None of you have seen the true wrath of Mars or Jupiter. You have not experienced the grace of Venus."

"So what lies next to me if not a gift from Venus?" Marcus asked, leaning down and placing a kiss somewhere between your shoulder blades. "Or Mars? I thought I was the favorite of the gods?"

"Sometimes you are too sure of yourself, General." You replied sarcastically, but you sighed quietly when his hand tightened on your buttock. "The gods have their favorites, but that doesn't mean they can't get bored with them."

"I don't care." His hands grabbed your hips and quickly turned you around, your laughter filling the darkened chamber. "As long as I have you in my hands, I am not afraid of the wrath of the gods. You are my redemption."

A hand tenderly stroked his cheek, fingers slipping into the curly hair among which you could see silver threads. "Don't treat me like one of them, my beloved... I'm not worthy of this."

The brown eyes that were staring at you, however, said something else. Adoration and delight radiated from his insides.

"To me, you are above them all." he replied, spreading your thighs with his hand and placing himself between them. "I want to adore you every day. Praise the day when my eyes saw you for the first time. Fight for you, conquer for you, live for you."

"Marcus..."

His hard cock slid into you without a problem, all the way to the base. Still slippery, full of his seed. You had made love just a moment earlier, like almost every night. Almost, because you also appreciated those moments when you could just fall asleep in each other's arms, feeling the closeness of your bodies, feeling the steady beating of your hearts.

"I will adore and worship you." his voice was low, he whispered to you as if he was praying "Your body is a temple, your sweet moans are songs of praise..." you sighed feeling him move inside you, you tightened your fingers on his strong shoulders "I was a mere mortal when your grace fell upon me. You were the one who decided to stay with me, now I will give you all of myself."

Hot lips kissed your neck as Marcus thrust into you with increasing force. You already knew perfectly well his endless hunger for you, so you gave him what he needed.

Acacius was a generous lover. He gave you pleasure in every way he knew, and you fell apart in his hands, intoxicated by this feeling. 

You never thought before that bodies could fit together so well, complement each other so much and give each other small deaths, while feeling that they were more alive than ever before.

"I love you..." his hot whisper reached your ears, you wrapped your arms around his neck, slid your hands into his soft hair "More than life, more than anything I know."

He hit exactly that spot, you couldn't say a word, catching your breath. His hot, sweaty body was pressing down on you lightly, but it didn't matter. Soon the pleasure spread through your body, all your senses and heart froze.��

Marcus felt your delicate walls squeeze his cock, but he didn't stop. His prayers had to be finished. He lifted himself on his shoulders, eyes swept over your sweaty cleavage and breasts, wandering to the place where you were connected. He disappeared inside you a few more times, and then a deep moan escaped his throat as his seed spurted into you, filling you up again.

Tender hands touched his face again, pulling him into a kiss. Soft lips that he never wanted to leave, arms that were supposed to embrace him forever. The woman who was supposed to love him for eternity.

When Marcus told you that morning that you could go out with him and see Rome, your eyes widened with delight. You had been begging him to let you see the city for a long time, although you understood perfectly well why he refused to do so. Every decision had to be thought out, every move planned.

"We'll visit Brutus, it's nothing interesting." he said, but the smile didn't leave his lips when he saw the glint in your eyes.

Melitta had been trying to help you dress for several minutes, but you were so excited that you couldn't stand still.

"My lady." she sighed. "The sun will set before you cross the threshold. Please..."

"I know, I know..." you repeated once again "It's just so, so exciting."

"Rome is beautiful." Melitta draped the material over your shoulder "You'll like it. Although I prefer forests and meadows... Bathed in the morning light, with the grass still covered in dew."

You tightened your fingers lightly on her arm. "I'll take you there, I promise." you said quietly "Soon."

The door creaked and you both jumped as General Acacius appeared before you. Even though he wasn't wearing armor, he still looked dignified. He smiled at the sight of you and nodded towards Melitta.

"Is everything ready?"

"Yes, my lord." she said curtsying.

"You did well." he praised her "You look wonderful, my love. I have something for you."

He took your hand and carefully slid a gold ring with an emerald stone onto your finger. He pressed his lips to your knuckles.

"It's for your safety." He explained seeing your questioning look. "Anyone who sees this ring will know who you..."

"...belong to." You finished for him.

He kissed your hand again and covered it with his. He wanted to avoid saying those words, but at the same time he wanted them. He wanted to know that you were only his.

Your eyes darted from one face to another, from one fruit stand to the beautifully dressed people you saw leaving the building. Conversations, laughter, the sound of horses' hooves, children running around. You had never been in a place like this before.

Marcus was close to you the whole time, observing your every move and gesture, noticing every smile and delight in your eyes. For a moment he regretted that he didn't see it all the same way you did. 

Years of fighting wars, talking to politicians, worrying about the fate of the country, had made him feel tired and numb. To everything, except you.

"Thank you, beautiful lady! May the gods bless you!" a hoarse voice rang out behind him.

It was only then that he noticed that you had escaped his eyes. Something or someone caught your attention. An older man, in a tattered robe, who was sitting against the wall begging for alms. The closer to the gladiator fights, the more of them appeared in the city, of all ages, sexes, and in various states of health.

Something flashed in the man's dirty hand and Acacius realized that you had given him one of your rings. Not the one he had given you that morning, some other one. He felt a warm surge of affection for you, because he had already forgotten what or who you were before, that you thought differently than those he knew.

A strong hand gently grabbed your arm. "We should go."

You nodded and obediently followed Marcus.

"The Emperor expects your presence during the fights. You should be there." Brutus sat comfortably on a bench under a spreading tree and nodded to the young girl who handed him wine. "There will be no better opportunity for her to go there with you."

"I'm not so sure about that." Marcus replied. "The Emperor, these people..."

"You can't keep her at home forever, Marcus!" the man snorted "I know you want her safety, but someone will notice her soon. Besides, I heard that a few people would be interested in you finally getting married."

Acacius frowned and snorted at the very statement. This topic always appeared when he returned to Rome, that's why he preferred barracks and battlefields, soldiers didn't care about marital status. 

Besides, marriage for people of his position was rarely connected with deeper feelings. It was about the arrangement, about position, about wealth, about creating a strong family.

Somewhere nearby he heard a familiar quiet laugh and noticed you with Aurelia, Brutus' wife, who was showing you around their house. His friend noticed how the General's face brightened at the sight of you.

"It gives me great joy to see you like this." he said warmly "I don't know what spell this girl has cast on you, but the gods are kind to you, since they allowed your paths to cross."

"I will be grateful to them for the rest of my life." Marcus said. "I feel like I knew her before my eyes first met her."

"Is that possible?"

"I don't know... Maybe it was just a dream." He raised his glass to his lips and took a sip of sweet wine. "So be it. She will accompany me there." Brutus patted him on the shoulder happily. "You're right. There will be no better time, and I don't want to risk it."

"We will be there too. But warn her, Marcus. A viper's nest is a terrible place for beautiful creatures like her."

Acacius nodded. A strange fear filled his heart, but when he heard your footsteps, when he felt a familiar hand on his shoulder, it all flew away with the wind.

Something strange woke you up at night. For a moment you tried to understand what it was. Marcus was sleeping quietly next to you, his arm around your waist, his body as hot as the sun close to yours. 

You felt it again. The scent that woke you up, so familiar.

Sage and other herbs, burning somewhere outside the window, in a garden immersed in darkness. You quietly and carefully got out of bed and threw thin robes over your naked body. The window was open and the gentle wind must have unconsciously brought the delicate smoke into the room.

You strained your eyes to see in the darkness the person who was not only burning herbs, but also... 

Yes, you knew the words to this prayer. You had heard it several times in one of the temples, but not in the temple dedicated to Minerva. These were words addressed to Venus, and they were whispered quietly by someone you knew so well. 

A prayer filled with regret, interwoven with quiet sobbing…

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

@ashleyfilm @gothcsz @littlenicpascal @missladym1981 @axshadows @psychoenergy @sabsunflowergirl @pedrofan @heckzprince @hard-candy-writing @mynameisbaby9 @94namkooksworld @bbyanarchist @picketniffler @tranquilty @psyched2b @jeewrites @tuquoquebrute @aotfantasmagorias

[yubinluvclub6]

Die With A Smile, touya todoroki

𓆤࣭ ─ dabi/touya todoroki x sweet!reader, angst!, fluff, also i think i used the words “sweet” and “soft” about a million times, but reader is that, so.. dabi literally doesn't care of readers existence at first sob sob. highly inspired by “die with a smile” by bruno and gaga mwach, hence the title. sad ending! teeny tiny smutty moment, but it doesn't go into detail :( so sfw! idk how to write these tbh. strangers to friends to lovers(?) he calls her “doll” eeee sniff sniff! they're so in love <3 it's my first time ever writing & posting so please be nice! it was fun writing this! super short and sweet. no big plot. just for shits and giggles he he #1 touya fan !! i have such a fat crush on him i miss him sm waaa okay enjoy <3

When Dabi first laid his eyes on you, he didn’t care to spare a second glance. Why would he? You were just another member of the League, another cog in the machine of Shigaraki’s grand design, and he had no interest in entertaining the presence of another needless human who played no part in his own personal plans.

You, with your annoyingly bright smile, that would light up your entire face, and that stupid little cat you keep around you, always toting around with it. He didn’t care. But you did play a big role in the League. You were useful. Born with a healing quirk, you were vital. Shigaraki Tomura didn’t need more crew members on his ship, but when he saw you, healing a battered up and bruised stray kitty in a filthy, sketchy alleyway near the hideout, how could he not take you in?

Dabi recalled the first time you spoke to him. Your voice of sincerity. Delicate. Gentle. Voice like an angel. Nourishing. It had weight to it. He’d thought that alone could heal his every wound and scar. You introduced yourself. Simple. So soothing. “I’m Yn. Nice to meet you all!” You had said. Smile oh so evident on your face. Luminous. That’s the first thing he noticed. No... second. Your bright ass smile. What the fuck were you smiling so bright for?

He remembers. He remembers when you first went on a mission together. He’d assumed.. quite smugly, actually, that you couldn’t fight for shit, but man, despite only possessing a healing quirk, your combat skills surprised him. He hated that it impressed him. But he didn’t care. He doesn’t care.

But it began happening.. slowly. You, chipping away at his defenses.

𓆤─

After a particularly tough mission, Dabi returned more bruised than anticipated. His skin burned. Sizzling. Hot. Irritated. But he can’t feel. He doesn’t want to feel. Pain was an old friend. But just maybe, he does.

And so, with gentleness, you took him by his hand, guiding him to a nearby chair, sitting him down, and began curing his ruined, roughed up skin with your oh so soothing magic. Hands of an angel.

He didn’t question it. Sat. Silently. Letting you do your thing.

“You need be more careful,” you said. Your voice so sweet it felt like a whisper against the chaos of his existence.

Those words lingered, and he smirks thinking about it now. Battered and bruised, just like the stray cat, before fate brought you two together. In the same position, once again, just like when you had said those words.

...

And so, began a stupid little friendship, if he dared to call it that.. You and Dabi were opposites in every conceivable way, like Sun and Moon. And yet, you gravitated toward each other. You both clicked.

Nights blurred into days, most of which were spent in his room, or yours. Banter, mindless chatter, quiet conversations, and the softest of giggles coming out of your pretty lips from an unintended joke. He enjoyed it. Found an odd sense of comfort in it. Solace. He'd often find himself craving it. The cycle would repeat, and you'd become a constant.

He's thinking. Smiling. How he would love to feel your warm hands against his stomach, despite the already burning sensation he’s feeling deep in.

His thoughts drift again.

𓆤─

He's sat alone one night, in the silence of his room, his thoughts twisting around anger and vengeance.. fear..

You knocked softly at his door.

“Dabi?” you call, hesitant. As quietly as possible, as you peak through the open gap of the door.

He doesn’t answer, tense hands buried in his dark hair.

“Can I come in?” voice still so timid and soft.

Still, no answer. And yet, you enter.

Warmth. Your body against his. You embrace him, enveloping him completely. Your softness against his harsh scars. Yours against his. Yours. Yours. Yours.

And for the first time, he let's himself hold you. His arms are around yours, tight. So tight. He doesn’t think he’ll ever let go. You, the only thing tethering him to this world. And then he tells you. He tells you everything. His past. His bitch of a father, Endeavor. Touya.

That’s when he first feels it. Plush, soft. Always soft. Always you. And he presses. Applies pressure to your lips. Putty. That’s what you both are. Your hands in his messy hair, pulling against his locks gently. His, caressing your waist, your cheek, in your hair. Everywhere. He wants you, wants all of you. He kisses with urgency and need. He wants to memorize you.

And when you’re under him, moon illuminating your features, hair messy, pretty, hands in his hair, still. Your lips on his, still. Legs wrapped around his waist, forehead pressed against eachother. Warm breaths mingling. He decides. Wherever you go, he’ll follow. He wants to be next to you. With all of you. He wants to hold you. Wants to hold all of you.

...

Dabi chuckles, liquid dripping down from his dried up mouth, dyeing his shirt red. Crimson. Metallic. Down his nose and chin. How did he end up in this situation.

...

You lay entwined in his arms, light breeze blowing from the open window. Early morning sun, golden against your body and his.

“Touya?” you say softly, head against his chest, tracing little doodles onto his chest.

“Hm?” He let you. Touya, he thinks to himself. He let’s you call him that. Sounds freeing. Comforting, playing with his name against your lips. He likes it.

“Alright, if. If the world was ending? What’s the last thing you wanna do?”

He scoffs, small smirk evident on his lips. “Why the question.”

You perk, looking up at him, eyes big and glossy. You’re perfect, he thinks. “I’m curious..”

His hand finds itself in your hair brushing it back absentmindedly, gently. Doesn’t stop. Fingers coming though them. “Then stop bring curious.”

“Touya.”

“Yn.”

You sit up, sheets falling off your body like silk. You're facing him now, cross legged. “Seriously. What’s the last thing you’d do” You press.

He rolls his eyes.

“I don’t know. You tell me. What would you wanna do?”

You smile. Pretty, he thinks.

“A lot of things.”

“Fuck that. You can only choose one.”

You whine. Telling him there’s time. Some shit about the “few hours before it actually is the end of the world.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Fine. The last 10 minutes. If the world was ending, and you had only 10 minutes, what are you doing.”

You think. Pouty, Pretty. So fucking cute.

Then you shrug. A sigh, lying your forhead against his chest. “Probably eat my favorite food. I can’t think of anything else.”

He laughs.

"Hm," you smile, looking up. “Your turn.”

Dabi looks into your eyes, his turquoise orbs, looking, admiring, studying. His thumb brushing against your cheek.

“What?” You say, cheeks flushing, a blush pink hue forming.

“Next to you.”

“Huh” You ask, small frown forming, confusion evident on your sweet face.

His voice soft, that of love, and tenderness. “If the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you.”

You freeze. Silence. Your cheeks flushing, once again. Shy, pretty, as you process his words. Then, with a smile that could rival the sun, you kiss him deeply, harder than ever before.

“I love you, Touya” you whisper against his lips.

…

“Wait… but mine isn’t as good as yours…” you frown.

𓆤─

Touya laughs again. He laughs at you, and your stupid little questions. He laughs at your frown, the one that forms everytime you’re even the slightest bit confused. He laughs at your smile, so bright. Your cheeks, the ones that flush whenever he teases you. He laughs at you.

Then, he cries. Blood, again. Trickling down his cheek. Like it’s doing down the rest of his body. The blood soaks his shirt.

And so, he keeps laughing. Laughing at the fucked up situation he’s in. Laughing at his thoughts before he met you. At Endeavor, and his stupid, little brother. Laughing at his heart. His feelings. His emotions. It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

And he remembers again. 10 minutes.

And he hears. Touya. Your voice. Calling out his real name. He could hear you say his name forever. Like music to his ears. Butter. Smooth. Loving. Caring. So full of fucking love.

Touya. Say it again.

Touya. Again, please..

“Touya!” His eyes open, bloody, sticky. Your voice shatterring the silence.

“Touya” You cry, soft, warm hands frantically caressing his bloody face.

No. fuck, don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I’m sorry.

“You’ll be okay. Alright, just- just stay with me, Please.” You say breathlessly, hands brushing his disheveled hair back, touching anywhere you can.

He feels warm again. Your hands, against his abdomen, his chest.

You’re healing him. Trying. You're hurt too. Shit.

He laughs again, tears still rolling his cheeks.

Tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Yn” He says, barely there. Whispered, in pain. It hurts to swallow, it hurts to speak. Everything hurts.

“It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.” You choke out tears. “I promise. Just stay awake. Alright. Just-“

“Doll.” His weak hand goes up to his chest, wrapping around yours. Tightly, forever.

You sniff, sobbing “No”

“It’s okay.” He smiles. Fuck it hurts. “I promise.”

“Yeah. You- you’ll be oka-“

“Remember... remember 10 minutes?”

“Ten-… Touya wha-“ He smiles again.

You frown. Cute. He really does have a soft spot for you.

“I’m glad it came true.”

Suddenly it clicks.

“No. No Touya. You’re gonna be fine. I promise. Please. Just-“ Your sobs grow louder.

“I love you, Yn.”

Sobbing, tears streaming down your cheeks, hands tightly clenched in his, forehead pressed against his blood soaked chest, “I love you too. I love you so much, Touya.”

Touya smiles. Because fuck, despite being here, after everything… He’s here, with you, next to you.

it's a lil boring lol but i had fun doing this so! tysm for reading <3

[artsninspo]

❄️ SNOWED IN SEDUCTION - RIO X READER

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ ���

: ̗̀➛ rio's library - good girl nbc

𐙚 based on this prompt

summary: a whirlwind fic about two strangers stuck on a resort because of a snow storm on christmas eve. starring rio, an enigmatic and mysterious investor.

warnings: this one's messy, with language and its spicy. 🌶️ 🌪️

pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Reader

word-count: 2.1K

You let out a frustrated groan, putting your head in your hands as you tried to figure out how this had come to pass.

It had started with the snowstorm. The announcement over the hotel’s PA system had grounded you, along with dozens of other travelers, in the luxurious mountain resort. A work trip gone rogue, the only reason you were in attendance was that you had volunteered to ensure one of your colleagues didn't miss the lead-up to Christmas with their young children. But the snow had blown in, ruining your plans for Christmas Day. The frustration of missing Christmas with your family was palpable, but you’d resigned yourself to making the best of it.

Then there was Rio.

The man had appeared at the reception desk, his presence commanding and effortlessly magnetic. You noticed him immediately—the neck tattoo, the scruffy facial hair, the way his black cashmere sweater and dark jeans fit him as though they were made custom. He was a contradiction: rugged and refined, approachable yet untouchable. And when he’d turned his attention to you, his eyes locking onto yours with a heat that made your pulse quicken, it was as though the rest of the world had ceased to exist.

It was one of those magnetic moments people reference in songs and the rising action of movie plots. When two people look at each other and just know. That’s what it was like—exactly like that. One look communicated mutual attraction in an instant.

Instead of moving hastily or getting bent out of shape, Rio maintained his resolve, moving slowly, commanding time, and insisting the receptionists see to your needs first. It seemed like an innuendo and acted as an aphrodisiac to what would follow. In an attempt to make lemonade out of lemons, the hotel threw a party for its guests. You were in bed on the phone with your sisters when your invitation and a clothing rack of dresses arrived. It was your first note from him.

Hope to see you there. Champagne is on me.- Rio

A quick internet search made it clear the man had money. The bottle alone was worth between thirty to fifty grand. The dresses were all five figures too. How he’d managed to find something to fit your frame so perfectly was beyond your comprehension. Feeling sexy, sultry, and encouraged by the expensive gifts and your sisters' prodding, you were excited to see him again, going against your sensible side. The allure of Rio’s charm proved too strong to resist.

The party had been a haze of champagne and laughter, the two of you moving seamlessly between conversations, dances, and stolen moments that left your skin tingling. Rio had been attentive, his hand at the small of your back, his deep voice whispering in your ear. There was a chemistry between you that felt almost dangerous or maybe it was simply something about him that signaled danger.

When the party ended, he’d walked you back to the Skyloft suite. His kiss had been the beginning of the unraveling—a heady mix of dominance and desire that left you breathless. What followed was a night unlike any you’d ever experienced. Rio was commanding yet patient, his every touch deliberate, his every whispered word a promise of pleasure. He took control, unraveling you piece by piece until there was nothing left but raw vulnerability and euphoria.

He slipped inside, filling you slowly until he fit like a glove. Leaving your breath bated as your body gets used to the stimulation. Dark eyes look down at you under thick lashes. His thumb pressed firmly against your spot forcing your eyes close in a satisfied moan. His lips part yours not allowing for any reprieve and his hips find a rhythm that drives you wild. Tears bead in the corners of your eyes as he goes harder, his hips go faster and his kiss is more feverish. His thrusts are punishing, but his dominance and size makes you crazy for him. Your mouth opens, breaking the kiss in a bid to get air. You’re overstimulated and delirious. It feels so good there’s no room for anything else. Rio looks down at you enjoying the effect and impact of his physicality. The slapping of skin, the heat from your body, the slickness of your pleasure mixed in with his. The chemistry between the two of you is so raw it’s stripped both of you bare, leaving nothing there but an instinctive need for pleasure. He’d seen the doubt in your expression. Men with his bank account often slacked in bed, not him, not with pussy this good. The image of you writhing in pleasure under him keeps him creative in his approach to the fucking and hard as a rock. Wanting to see your pretty eyes again he roots himself deep inside of you. The groan you let out is coupled with a climax and your eyes go to him again. It’s number two in what seems like no time at all.

“If you want me to keep fucking you like a whore act like one and look at me. Watch me while I’m fucking you. Take this dick like a good girl” his words added to the sensation, it feels so good you need a moment and you pull him into another kiss. He kissed you soft and seductive, slowly drawing the freak out of you as replaces his manhood with his fingers, a cheap imitation of what he’s capable of.

“I know your game” he whispered against your lips but you’ve never been fucked like this - ever. Looking up at him he seems like the perfect pleasure dealer. Looking between his legs you find reassurance at how his impressive size stands at attention

.

“You’re defying gravity for me” you commented with eyes that waited to be granted permission to touch him.

“Nah” Rio smiled, his ego too strong to let you be his undoing. He watched your eyes sparkle at the realization of his  objection and smiles when instead of challenging him you find yourself on all fours grabbing him full control. He admires your arch.

“Pick the hole” he said, making your body ache for him. Who even says shit like that?! Reaching back you slide him into your center. Rio hums at the contact enjoying being inside you as much as you enjoy him nestled there too. The angle was everything, giving you the privacy to close your eyes while taking him in peace as he finds your depths testing your limits. The chorus of moans make Rio feel like the old him before the money. It was clear now how much other women put on a facade. The lazy fucking he gave them had them carrying on in ways that didn’t make sense now that he could feel a real unbridled reaction from you. The way your core clenches his manhood before you moan, how your hands go to massage areas being overstimulated, how every time he went to grab your breasts your nipples were pebbled for him. That kind of reaction was all instinct, something that couldn't be faked and it filled Rio with pride. The way you felt to him and how he was making you feel had to be some kind of christmas magic.

He could get lost in you easily, losing his focus on his work and dropping the ball. Your shit was good enough to turn him into a trick or a fiend. The onset of his orgasm is violent and unfamiliar. Warm thick streams float into you for the first time and the sensation drives you wild. Your breaths are rugged as he stays rooted in you. The moment is intimate and unlike anything you’ve ever experienced with anyone else, ever. You couldn't have dreamed up a better session, as exhaustion flows in so does a well earned afterglow. Rio stays hard even after he’s caught his breath. Sliding out he rests against the pillows. Your cheeks burn as he looks over at you unable to fathom that this is real as he watches his seed leak out of you. Your brain doesn’t even click into survival mode from the post coital bliss.

“Tell me what I taste like” he says clearly with some power to override your common sense. Slight bitterness and exhaustion stopped you from complying.

“I’d know if you let me suck it” you respond instead of tasting him from your own body and he smiles. Looking between your legs and getting up. Rio returns with a warm rag wiping you clean. The aftercare surprises you. He slipps on a pair of pants and you feel your heart fall, but he takes the robe hanging in the bathroom and places it over your body.

You can still feel the heat of his touch as if it were imprinted on your skin. The way his lips had moved against yours, his hands firm yet gentle, made you shiver even now. He had been attentive in a way you hadn’t expected, making you feel seen, desired, and utterly consumed. You had lost track of time entirely, the hours blending into one long, intoxicating blur of intimacy and passion.

Now, in the bright light of Christmas morning, the reality of it all hit you like a gust of icy wind. Rio was gone, his presence lingering only in the faint scent of his cologne and the ghost of his touch. The knock on the door earlier had shattered your reverie—two men in dark suits presenting an NDA with clinical efficiency. You’d signed it without hesitation, using the alias you always employed for work. Only then had they confirmed his full name: Rio Montana.

Investor. Enigma. And now, a ghost in your memory.

The exchange had been cold, transactional. One of the men had placed a card and a banking printout on the table alongside the money. The other had stood silently, his expression unreadable. "The additional fifty thousand can be accessed following the instructions on this card," the man had said, his voice devoid of warmth. The automation of it all had made you feel small, like an afterthought in a world of power and wealth.

You glanced at the money again, the weight of it pressing down on your chest. What did it mean? Compensation? A parting gift? A bribe to ensure your silence? The thought made your stomach churn, but another part of you, the pragmatic side, couldn’t deny the practical appeal. A hundred thousand dollars could change your life. It could pay off debts, fund dreams, or simply buy you freedom from the grind you’d been stuck in.

But at what cost?

The drive to the airport was quiet, the snowstorm having finally relented. The resort staff had arranged a fleet of SUVs to transport stranded guests, and you found yourself staring out the window, watching the pristine white landscape blur past. The excitement of Christmas felt distant, replaced by a strange cocktail of emotions: shame, exhilaration, and something else you couldn’t quite place.

The roads were lined with snow-covered evergreens, their branches heavy with the weight of winter. Christmas decorations adorned the small towns you passed, twinkling lights and festive wreaths offering a stark contrast to the turmoil in your heart. You’d always loved the holiday season, but this year it felt hollow, as though the magic had been replaced with a cold, hard reality.

At the terminal, you moved through security and boarded your flight, your carry-on heavier than it had been when you arrived. Settling into your seat, you looked out at the snow-covered tarmac, the events of the past day replaying in your mind. The encounter with Rio had been a whirlwind, a departure from your otherwise measured and predictable life. It had awakened something in you, something you weren’t sure you could name yet.

The plane taxied down the runway. You stared out the window, watching the clouds drift by in a blanket of white, and placed a hand absently on your stomach. A faint flutter of nausea lingered, stressed and mixed emotions threatening to come up with the morning's breakfast.

The other passengers around you chatted quietly, their voices a low hum against the backdrop of the engine’s steady roar. A child a few rows ahead giggled as they played with a small, plush reindeer toy, the sound tugging at something deep within you. You found yourself watching them, a strange mix of emotions bubbling to the surface—longing, curiosity, and something you couldn’t quite put into words.

Dazed, shocked, and conflicted, you couldn’t deny the thrill of the experience. But it was bittersweet, a morally gray chapter in your life that you’d carry with you. The money was a blessing, the memory of Rio a curse and a gift all at once.

authour's note: thanks for reading ❤️ I played around with the formatting of this last minute, hopefully it wasn't too hard to follow. I wanted to try something new before the year ended.

there are more holiday fics in the rio archive linked above.

tags: @meadows5 @wnbweasley @becauseimher @ariiaeltheedonn @woahthatshitfat @miniaturehideoutmentality @kokobells @ffenthusiastt @sowhatariyana @1xtral1983 @theegoddessofmelanin @fictionalreads @roxytheimmortal

if you made it all the way here, this is an prologue concept I have been working on for a secret baby story with OC's.

[xmads-omensx]

Word Count: 1,251

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Reader

Content Warnings: talks of loneliness, depression, not feeling good enough

Summary: Y/N didn't enjoy her birthday but can't figure out why. Noah helps her as she deals with the pain she feels.

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lacy1986 @collidewiththesav @kenjipepsi1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland

My birthday was rapidly approaching and I hadn’t given it much thought.

I never really did.

Usually, I would go out for dinner with my best friends, but that was no longer an option since our friendship had ended.

Sure, I was glad they were out of my life since they had caused me so much pain, but it still hurt.

I tried to push it out of my mind as the months drew on. It worked.

Noah wasn’t a huge birthday guy, so the conversation never came up which I was grateful for.

I had completely forgotten about the matter of my birthday until it was only a week away and I still didn’t have any plans.

Noah had bought me theatre tickets for a showing of Six at two pm on my birthday, but had only told me so that I could plan around it.

Obviously, I was excited for that, but there was still something missing.

In the past, it was my two best friends who organised where we went for dinner so that it was still a surprise, but that wouldn’t be the case this year.

My heart hurt as I thought about it, but I pushed it away once again.

I didn’t need that pain.

I didn’t need their bullshit.

Not anymore

I was noticeably happier without them.

Granted, it had taken me some time to get there, but I got there.

Noah was by my side every step of the way and I couldn’t be more grateful.

My birthday rolled around in what felt like minutes and before I knew it, Noah was zipping up the back of my dress as we got ready to leave for the theatre.

It was nice spending time with him like this.

It felt domestic.

Noah would deny it, but he loved the show.

I could see him lip syncing along to the words that he knew as he watched the talented women on the stage perform the brilliant soundtrack.

“Best birthday gift ever.” I said to him as we walked back to his car after the show ended.

“You deserve it, my love.” He replied, kissing the top of my head affectionately before opening the passenger side door for me.

The drive home was quiet.

A nice quiet.

The kind that feels easy.

It stayed that way for the rest of the day until Jesse returned home and started singing Christmas songs, which was not at all out of character for the strange man.

It made me smile.

Noah ordered pizza for our dinner, which we ate as we re-watched Attack on Titan for what felt like the hundredth time, but I would never complain about that.

Falling back into our routine, we snuck up to bed when Jolly and Jesse joined us on the sofa.

Noah undressed into his boxers, and I changed into one of his shirts, leaving on my cotton panties.

We both climbed into bed, with Noah instinctively pulling me into his chest.

“Goodnight.” He whispered with a kiss to the top of my head.

“Goodnight, pumpkin.” I whispered back.

Noah tilted his head down to place a kiss on my lips before drifting off to sleep.

I soon found out that I would not receive the same luxury.

My birthday felt incomplete.

Sure, the day wasn’t over yet, but something felt… missing. Like that feeling you get when you feel like you’ve forgotten something.

It felt like I was stood in a dark room without a torch. Not pitch black, but too dark to see everything.

It was a strange feeling.

Deciding that my quest for sleep was futile, I retreated back to the kitchen and made myself some chamomile tea. That usually helped me sleep.

I grabbed the book that I had been reading off of the coffee table and snuggled down to read. Surely that would make my eyes tired enough to fall asleep.

The narrative was comforting, but not helpful in my mission for sleep.

If anything, it was making my problem worse.

I just felt… alone.

Footsteps in the hallway pulled me out of my trance as I looked up and saw Noah standing there rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“What’re you doing up?” He grumbled.

“Couldn’t sleep.” I replied with a whisper.

“Selfish. You know I can’t sleep when you’re gone.” Noah mumbled, crawling on top of me and snuggling into my neck, making me laugh.

“I’m sorry bub.” I replied.

“Seriously though, what’s up?” He asked.

Noah always knew when something was wrong.

“I’m not sure.” I replied.

He gave me a confused look, so I explained how I was feeling.

“Maybe it’s because it’s your first birthday without Lily and Jay?” He suggested.

Then it all fell into place.

That was exactly it.

The two of them had always celebrated my birthday with me.

They had since we were five years old.

Noah reached up to brush a tear off of my cheek that I hadn’t realised had fallen.

“Baby, it’s okay, you’ve been functioning perfectly without them for a while now. You can get through this.” He said comfortingly, but it didn’t help.

I pushed him off of me and sat up.

“I just feel so lonely.” I whispered.

“You’re not lonely.” He said. “You have me, Jesse, Jolly, Folio and the rest of the guys. They’re your friends, they’ll always be there for you. And you know damn well you’ve always got me.”

“But they’re not my friends!” I exclaimed, suddenly angry at Noah. “They are your friends, Noah, not mine!”

Silence encased the living room.

“Baby, I’m sorry for yelling.” I said after a moment.

“Don’t be sorry.” Noah said, walking towards me. “Never be sorry.”

He pulled me into a tight hug.

Tears began to spill down my face.

“It’s just so lonely without them.” I sobbed into his warm, bare chest.

Noah didn’t say anything, just rocked me back and forth as I cried.

My heart yearned for an easier time when my birthday was something filled with friends. But today it had just felt empty.

“Let’s head back to bed.” Noah whispered after a few minutes.

I nodded.

He gently placed his hand on the small of my back and guided me up to our shared bedroom and closed the door behind us.

I immediately gravitated to the bed in the middle of the room and curled up beneath the covers that smelled like Noah before he pulled me into his chest.

“I know you miss them, but it will get easier.” Noah began. “I promise you that you will feel less lonely as you readjust to life without them. It will get easier baby.”

I didn’t know how to reply, so I just looked up at him.

He smiled softly at me before placing a loving kiss on my lips and pulling me back into his chest.

“Sleep well, my love, and dream of me.” He whispered.

“Ew.” I replied.

“Did you just fucking say ew?” He asked, shocked.

I giggled.

“Oh that’s funny is it?” He said tauntingly.

I nodded my head.

“Oh I see how it is. You want war? I’ll fucking give you war idiot.” He said, before tickling my sides, making me cry out with laughter.

“There’s that laugh.” Noah sighed, pulling me back into his chest.

“I love you.” I whispered, kissing his bare chest.

“I love you more.” Noah whispered, kissing the top of my head.

Suddenly, I didn’t feel as lonely anymore.

[casuallyobssessed]

Fairytales & Firesides - Bodyguard!John Wick x Fem!Reader ❥ 6.1k Words

A/N: My Keanuverse Secret Santa gift for @at-wicks-end, hosted by @97keanu ! I hope you love it! P.S. I don't live in an area that gets snow, sorry if this is inaccurate! 🫶🏼

Before You Read: bodyguard AU, fluff, canon typical violence/descriptions of violence, short-ish slow burn (I tried lol), angst, no beta, use of Y/N, :3c

gif creds to dalekinapaintedparadise - divider by bleachbambi

Archive of Our Own Link

Winter crashes into the mountains like a raging bull, forcing you inside for the foreseeable future. Sleet and snow dominate the weather forecast, rendering the outdoors dangerous in more ways than one. While the snow comes down, you could usually be found tucked away in your home library. Warm light from the fireplace bathes you in an orange and red glow as you curl up in your comfiest chair with one of your many books. This has always been your treasured safe space. 

At least, it was, until things with your uncle got more complicated. For a while now, you've been living in one of your uncle's mansions, kind of doing whatever you want. He allows you to stay there only because you promised to look after the place every winter when there aren't as many people around to help on the property due to the snowfall in the mountains. 

Your uncle, Diego, is into some pretty shady stuff. Gangs, drugs, secret societies? You name it, he has his fingers in it. Recently, Diego had some kind of drug deal gone bad with a very prestigious group of people involved. Since then, they've hired a hit on your uncle and any of your family that they can get their hands on. A distant cousin, one aunt, and your great grandfather have all fallen victim to revenge killings. Diego fears that you could be next since you live in one of his properties, so he's hired a selection of bodyguards for your protection.

Unfortunately, the newly hired muscle made your comfort space feel more like a prison. As silly as it might sound, you felt like a princess locked away in her secluded tower. Being a full grown adult, something like this seemed like overkill. You didn't need twenty four seven protection from everything that goes bump in the night, but you were dependent on Diego’s generosity, so you accepted his offer of security with gritted teeth. 

As the time passed, your bodyguards came and went. You never had the same one for more than a week at a time. Many of them were kind to you, and thankfully, only one of them had been a creep. They were promptly dealt with (according to Diego, anyway). 

It didn't take too long for daily life to start losing its spark. You plowed through a good portion of your books in the first couple of weeks. This prompted you to start writing your own book. Really, it was more of a journal documenting your experience, but who said it couldn't be both? 

The guards were usually your only contact with the outside world, so you appreciated your conversations with them. Trading stories of their heroic actions for your recounts of the fantasy books you had been reading, you were able to keep your imagination running wild and your notebooks full of ideas. 

After one particularly difficult week, Sunday rolled around and it was time for a new guard. You bid farewell to the previous one and patiently waited to meet the lucky new bodyguard. Diego would brief them on their duties before they were dispatched to your side. You just hope they were kinder than the last. 

Your newest guard is set to find you on the floor in your library, busy reviewing pieces of your story journal. The click of the door opening snatches you back to reality, turning your attention to the man entering your sanctuary. Standing up, you step over your journal and various papers scattered around the floor, and slowly walk over to where he stood. 

“Good Morning, Ms.Y/N,” His voice is as smooth as honey.

“It's nice to meet you,” You offer your hand and he takes it, giving it a firm shake, ”What's your name?” 

“John. I see that you're busy, I'll keep out of your way.” 

John looks past you, at the chaos spread about the room, and gives you a curt nod before assuming his post by the door. You return to work on your journal, hoping he doesn't notice the urgency in your writing as you occasionally steal glances at him, documenting the handsome new guard. 

John is not a bad looking man. He stands a good bit taller than you with slicked back, dark hair and a matching, well groomed beard. He has beautiful brown eyes that twinkle as though they hold the secrets to the universe. Maybe that last part is all in your head, but there's certainly something mysterious about this man that captivates you.

Out of your way is where John stays for the next couple of days, quiet and mostly indifferent to your presence. He followed you whenever you left your library but kept a distance either in front or behind you. At night, he sat on the couch in the far corner of your room. Under normal circumstances, it would have made you too uneasy to have someone watching you sleep, but after weeks of constant surveillance, you were used to it. 

Come the third day, you are determined to break the ice with him. Two days of no conversation other than one word responses was driving you mad. It never took this long for a guard to warm up to you. So, you decide that you are going to try your best to get some kind of response out of him. 

Small talk definitely isn't going to work. This man is clearly not one to gossip or discuss the weather with. Your first attempt is to ask him about current events. ‘What's the world like out there right now? Anything important happening that I should know about?’ You're met with only a shrug and a small, well meaning smile. Strike one. 

Next, you try asking him about himself and his home life. ‘Have anyone at home missing you while you're busy here? Do you have any pets?’ Unfortunately, these questions don't receive much of a response either, not even so much as a shrug. The look in his eyes hardened after the first question, though. You figure it's best not to push it. Strike two. 

For your last attempt, you decide to ask him if he has any interesting stories about jobs he's had in the past. This was a common question you had for your guards as their answers would usually help inspire your writing. ‘Do you have any cool action stories or experiences you could share? I can tell you about some of the books I've been reading in exchange!’ Finally, John looks at you with somewhat of an amused expression on his face. It's the most emotion you've gotten out of him, so far, but he doesn't say anything. Strike three. You're out! 

…Or are you? 

John shifts on his feet before clearing his throat to speak, “I suppose there are a few I could share with you.” 

“Awesome. Let me grab my notebook,” you say incredibly calmly, desperate not to give away your excitement. Mentally, you're doing a celebratory victory dance. 

-

For hours, you two trade stories. His were outlandish, but true. Each story is more nail bitingly exciting than the last. Yours range from the worst romance novels you've ever read, to the best fantasy books you have shelved in your library. You filled half your journal with wonderful ideas thanks to John. And on top of that, it seems like he is getting more comfortable with talking to you. It's an overall win-win for you. 

That night, you become keenly aware of John in the corner of your room, reading one of the books you suggested to him. You're not sure what changed, but you feel very differently about having him here. Sure, you feel protected, but something inside you has started to feel warm and gooey knowing he's always nearby. Maybe you just need a good night's rest. It's been a long day. You snuggle up underneath your comforter and drift off to sleep. 

The next morning you wake yourself up from tossing and turning. You can't catch your breath, you're completely flushed, and your heart is racing. It takes a moment, but suddenly your dream from last night comes flooding back and you're blushing like a schoolgirl. 

You had a dream about John. Oh God. Your cheeks must be burning bright red from embarrassment. Looking over at John, he is seemingly still asleep. His eyes are closed, head leaned back, arms crossed on his chest, and legs spread wide. You wonder what would happen if you were to crawl between those long legs and… Nope! Nuh uh! Shaking the rogue thoughts from your head, you promptly get out of bed and make your way to the bathroom. You need a cold shower, pronto. 

Upon returning from your shower, John was finally awake, reading the same book from the night before. Realizing you’re back and wearing only a towel, John excuses himself and steps outside the door to wait for you to change. 

You don't know how you're supposed to face him, but you know that the thoughts you're having aren't fair towards him. John has been completely professional with you while he's been here and it would be inappropriate of you to cross that line. 

Getting dressed quickly, you pick out a pair of plaid pajama pants and a long sleeved shirt. Never leaving the house has some perks. You rarely have to get dressed up in stiff, fancy clothes unless you really want to. Days like today, you can lounge around in pajamas with no consequence. 

Once you’re finished dressing, you leave your room and briskly walk past John without a word. You don't necessarily want to be cold towards him, but until you get a grip on yourself, it's probably better that way. 

John dutifully follows you back to the library and posts up by the door. You tend to the fireplace, rekindle it as needed, and then plop yourself onto the bench next to the window adjacent to the hearth. Frost is crawling up the edges of the window, obscuring your view only slightly. As you stare out into the wintry wonderland, you try your best not to think about John and the contents of your dream. 

Instead, you focus on the snowflakes as they dance down from the sky in a flurry and collect on the ground below. With how soft the snow looks, you have no trouble imagining yourself making the perfect snow angel, right in the front yard. You're not sure if going out there is the best idea, given the weather and the unpredictable danger, but a little freedom might just be what you need right now.

Maybe if you move fast enough, you could get past John and escape outside. It was worth a shot. You nonchalantly rise up from the bench and silently shuffle back to your room. John trails along behind you, looking moderately confused. You hurriedly shut the bedroom door, accidentally closing it in his face.

“Sorry, John! Give me a minute, I'm changing again,” You call out.

A muffled ‘Okay’ can be heard as you dig through your closet looking for your puffy winter coat. You find it half shoved in the back corner, dangling precariously on its hanger. After pulling your coat on, you slide into your snow boots, wriggle your fingers into your gloves, and head towards the front door. 

As fate would have it, a big coat and snow boots are not the smartest choices when you're trying to move fast. You make it as far as the foyer, reaching for the door handle before he stops you. So much for keeping your distance from him today. 

“Ms. Y/N, where do you think you're going?” John grabs your arm tightly enough to keep you in place. You try shrugging him off, but he's got too strong of a grip on you. 

“Outside. I want to see the snow.”

“You can see the snow from in here,” He responds as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. 

“I want to feel it, John. I want to remember what it's like to breathe fresh air.” 

“It's my job to keep you safe. Inside,” He replies sternly.

“I'm going out and you are not going to stop me,” You spit back at him, putting your foot down. 

John reluctantly lets you go and takes a step back. He considers you for a moment before he speaks again.

“Fine. Diego won't be pleased, but at least let me put on my coat.” 

You oblige his request and wait for him patiently until he returns wearing his heavy, black coat. Though you do feel a little bad for how you spoke to him, you don't regret it. You have been cooped up in this house for far too long. 

John insists on stepping outside first to make sure it's clear before allowing you to follow him. The second you cross the threshold, cold, crisp air hits your face and you breathe a sigh of relief. Being inside all the time gets incredibly stuffy and winter isn't the ideal time to be opening windows to air things out. You stare up into the sky as snowflakes land on your face, only to melt against your skin. 

Everything is still and quiet. From the house to the trees, it's a peaceful, untouched spread of snow, give or take a few sparse animal tracks. Off to the side, John is watching you and your surroundings with a sharp eye.

You trudge around in the snow looking for the best place to make your masterpiece. Just in front of the windows to the library, you find the perfect spot. 

Without another thought, you fall back into the snow, moving your arms and legs to create the shape of a snow angel. You feel as giddy as a kid, smiling ear to ear and laughing like a fool. Who knew something as simple as playing in the snow could make you feel so happy, so free? 

“John, come on! Make a snow angel with me. Please?” You’re begging him to have some fun with you even though half an hour ago you were plotting how you could avoid him indefinitely. 

His footsteps crunch in the snow until he's standing over you with a smile almost as wide as yours as you look up at him. You feel as though the heavens have opened up and you're staring directly at an angel. The frost nipping at your nose pales in comparison to the heat bursting inside your chest. 

He solemnly shakes his head at you, “I can't, I'm sorry.”  

You stay like that for a bit until the cold from the snow starts to overwhelm you through your coat and pajama pants, sending chills down your spine. You stand up from the ground to admire your handiwork. It's a solid outline if you ignore John's big footprints in the snow above the head. You decide it's an easy eight out of ten.

Satisfied with your creation, you move on to your next activity. You scoop up a handful of snow and pat it into a ball in your hands. Luckily for you, John is turned away, distracted by something off in the distance near the trees. Now’s the perfect chance to strike. 

You wind up your arm and toss the snowball at him, smacking him squarely between the shoulder blades. Pumping your fist in the air, you holler out a loud ‘Yes!’

You hear an exasperated sigh come from John, and quickly, you realize you may have messed up and taken things too far. 

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-” Your apology is cut off by John whipping around, grabbing a fistful of snow, forming it hastily in his hands, and then throwing it at you, landing in the center of your chest. 

Stunned, you let out a loud laugh before returning fire. John obviously has the better aim of you two. Missing every other shot was an improvement for you, while he was landing every hit flawlessly.

Unsurprising to you, John ends up as the winner of the snowball fight. You gave up once your stomach started rumbling and you realized that you hadn't eaten any breakfast yet. Hungry and defeated, you head back inside with your bodyguard in tow.

In the foyer, you strip off your coat, gloves, and boots, tossing them to the side. You had plenty of time to worry about them later. John hangs his coat up carefully on the coat rack and turns to you expectantly. 

“Thank you for going out there with me. That was a lot of fun,” You exclaim while rubbing your hands together to bring back the feeling in them. 

“It can't happen again, but you're welcome,” He looks genuinely sorry. 

“I know,” You understand the danger, but you wish things were different, “Are you hungry? I can make us some mean pancakes.” 

“Sure, Ms. Y/N,” Once again, John is smiling at you and it's enough to ignite even the coldest parts of you. There was no way on earth you could keep trying to avoid him when he made you feel this way with just a smile.

-

Breakfast went off without a hitch. Well, there may have been a minor hitch involving the pancake batter, but John stepped in and saved the day. He ended up offering to take over the process entirely, and you agreed. That gave you a chance to watch him do something besides stand still and look all serious.  

Once you’re done eating and all the breakfast dishes are clean, you scurry back to your library with John right behind you. Your journal and miscellaneous papers are still spread around the floor from the night before. John had really given you some wonderful stories to fuel your imagination, and now it's time to incorporate them into your book. 

By the door, John stands perfectly still, aside from the sly glances he throws your way. Seeing him stand over there by himself tugged at your heartstrings a bit after the eventful morning you've had. It suddenly felt very selfish to have someone on their feet, at attention, all day and night just for you. From your seat on the floor, you gesture to the chair right beside you.

“You can sit down if you want. I'm sure you can still protect me from any threats just as well over here.”

“Thank you for the offer, Ms. Y/N, but it's in your best interest if I stay here.”

“Are you sure?” You think for a moment and then continue, “What if I said I felt way more safe with you sitting next to me?” 

John gives you a hint of a smile before quickly resuming his professional poker face, “I really shouldn't… but if it makes you feel safer, I guess I can do that.” 

You lean over and pat the cushion of your comfy chair, encouraging him to sit. He makes his way over to you and sits in your chair, sinking down into it like it was made for him. After a few minutes of sitting together in silence as you worked, you begin to wonder when the last time he was truly able to relax was. 

“Hey John?” You look up at him, journal in hand.

“Mhm?” His voice thick with unease as he looks down at you.

“Can I read you some of what I have written so far? Will you tell me what you think?” 

“Sure.” 

Ever so slowly, John starts to truly relax as he listens to you. He spreads his legs just so and lets his shoulders ease back into a comfortable position, listening to you intently as you tell him your story enthusiastically. You stop occasionally to get his opinion on a set of dialogue or how a sentence is phrased and he's more than happy to advise you. By the end of the day with him, you've completely filled another notebook and you've fallen totally head over heels for John. 

-

The next few days pass by in a blur. John assists you in nearly completing your book, lets you sneak outside again (a couple, glorious times), and he even makes breakfast for you on Saturday morning. 

On Saturday evening, knowing that he'll have to leave soon, you convince him to have a movie night with you by letting him pick whatever movie he wants. You make a huge bowl of popcorn for the occasion and get settled on the couch while John peruses your Uncle's movie collection. He decides on an obscure western you've never heard of, and settles onto the couch, leaving one seat's worth of space between you for the popcorn bowl. 

Subconsciously, you wish he was sitting closer, but you'll have to settle for accidentally touching hands while reaching for popcorn at the same time. 

So far, the movie is a total snoozefest. You wouldn't dare say that to John, considering he seems to be enjoying it. If it weren't for his proximity to you keeping your heart racing, you definitely would have nodded off by now. Surprisingly quickly you run out of popcorn, so you set the bowl on the coffee table to get it out of the way and break down that final barrier between you and John. 

Half way through the movie, you find yourself scooting inches closer to John. You hope he doesn't notice, but something about him just has a magnetic pull that draws you in effortlessly. 

-

Now three fourths of the way through the movie, you start to feel brave. Taking notice of how lonely his hand looks resting on his thigh, you make the bold move to place your hand over his during a particularly high action scene. His hand is warm against yours and the feeling sends tingles through your fingertips. 

You're pleasantly surprised when John doesn't shrug you off, but instead looks over at you with a small smile, before lacing his fingers with yours. Your heart is thumping inside your chest as he gives your hand a squeeze, but you're sure it's going to explode when he lets go of your hand to pull you into his lap. 

Your senses are overwhelmed as you get a light whiff of the warm spice of his cologne as you lean in close, taking all of him in. His hands are gently holding your hips as you wrap your arms around his neck. You look to him for silent permission before closing the gap between you, pressing your lips against his. The feeling in the air is positively electric as his lips meet yours. 

-

The two of you stay like that for what feels like hours. John's the one who breaks away from you first, looking absolutely debauched. His hair is slightly tousled, cheeks and lips are brushed red, and the lustful look in his eye is burning a hole right through to your center. 

It's him who decides to ignore the tenting in his pants and politely recommends that you go to bed. As much as it kills you to do so, you reluctantly peel yourself off of him and go straight to your room to take another painfully cold shower. 

Your entire night is filled with another round of tossing and turning mixed with racy dreams featuring your bodyguard, who never finds his way into your room throughout the night. You assume he's keeping watch from the living room, only slightly neglecting his duties of having an eye on you at all times. 

-

Saying goodbye to John the next morning may have been one of the most difficult things you've ever had to do. No amount of begging or tears could have changed Diego's mind. ‘Getting attached to these people is like falling in love with a mutt you know you can't keep. They're here for your protection, Y/N, not for you to play with.’ His words stung. Even if it was the truth, you didn't want to hear it.

With tears in your eyes, you watch through one of the library windows as John's car retreats down the driveway. The hole in your chest feels massive, like it’s destined to swallow you whole if you aren't careful. Holding yourself tight, you curl up in your comfy chair and cry. It's the only thing you can muster the energy for. 

-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

You're startled awake from your sleep by loud, insistent thuds of the brass door knocker echoing throughout the otherwise silent house. You're not sure how long you’ve been out for, but the sun has gone down and the only light left is coming from the crackling embers in the fireplace. Rubbing your eyes, you drag your feet to the front door and open it without thinking twice.

Standing on the other side is a wall of a man. He has to be taller than John by at least half a foot, and twice as wide. He's wearing a simple black suit, not unlike something one of your bodyguards would wear during their time here. That must be it, he’s the newest guard hired by Diego. Since you had been asleep, you haven't checked your phone yet to see if you had any missed calls from him.

“Y/N, I assume?” His voice sounds like gravel, in an unpleasant sort of way. It lands roughly on your ears and makes you wince.

“That would be me. Did Diego send you?” 

The man ignores your question and gestures towards the foyer, “Can I come in? It's freezing out here.”

“Uh, yeah, sorry, come on in.”

As you step back to allow him through, he slams a massive hand against the door, knocking it wide open and shoving you harshly onto the floor. Before you can make sense of what's going on, he's got a hand in your hair, dragging you further into the house. 

You kick and scream as he lugs you down the hall and into one of the spare bedrooms. You try digging your nails into the back of his hand but he doesn't seem affected by the pain as he picks you up off the floor and tosses you onto the bed. The second he lets go of your hair, you scramble off the bed and towards the door. In a flash, the man grabs you by the ankles and drags you back over to the bed. 

This time, when he chunks you on the mattress, he produces a gun from his waistband and places the cold barrel directly against your forehead.

“Don't move again or I'm gonna blow your fuckin’ brains out.” 

Your eye twitches as you stare at him, afraid to even blink. He puts the gun back in his waistband and reaches into a pocket inside of his suit jacket. Out of his it, he pulls a pair of shiny metallic handcuffs. 

You're tempted to make another run for it, but you recall the feeling of his gun against your skin and you decide better of it. He grabs one of your wrists and slaps a cuff onto it, and when he reaches for your other wrist, you snatch it away. 

This appears to be your second mistake of the night. The man rears back and slaps you harder than you've ever felt before. 

“Stop acting like a brat,” He hisses at you. 

Tears well up in the corners of your eyes as pain shoots through the side of your face. You barely register it as he successfully grabs your hand and places the remaining cuff around your wrist a little too tightly. The cuffs dig into your skin painfully, taking your mind off of the pounding in your head.

The mystery man paces around the room checking the windows and shutting the bedroom door before stopping in front of you. He places a hand on your shoulder and clears his throat to speak. 

“All right, listen. Here's how this is gonna go. When I get the go ahead from my Boss, I'm gonna kill you. Until then, we wait.” 

You shrug his hand off your shoulder and your brain starts to spiral into full blown panic mode. There's no way you can muscle your way out of this. You could try playing the money card, he might fall for it. 

“You don't have to do this. Do you want money? My uncle can pay you double whatever your boss is paying. Call him, I'm sure he-” The man presses a finger to your lips, shutting you up. 

“Stop talking.” 

With that, he goes back to pacing around the room, occasionally checking his phone for that green light to take you out. Your mind races a million miles an hour as you pull against the handcuffs, knowing you can't slip out of them. Sniffles fill the room while your eyes start watering again. The man gives you a disgusted look as your breathing quickens and your lip trembles. 

“Are you really crying right now? Give me a fuckin’ break. This is just business. Eye for an eye type deal,” He snarls before going back to the window.

“Shit. Shit!” 

He sees something he clearly doesn't like, and backs away from the window. In a huff, he's grabbing your arm, and snatching you off of the bed. You resist, pulling away from him and stumbling backwards. The man growls before charging at you, grabbing your waist, and hoisting you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

“Put me down!” You scream and pound your fists against his back to no avail.

With his other hand, he pulls out his cell phone and makes a call that goes unanswered. He hastily leaves the bedroom and carries you down the hall, heading towards the kitchen. You try to grab everything you can as you pass by to try and slow him down: the walls, picture frames, even a curio cabinet that only topples over and smashes, littering the floor with glass. Unaffected by your attempts, he stops in front of the back door, overlooking the patio. 

“Hope you like the cold,” He grumbles and opens the door, cold air blasting into the house. 

Not giving you a chance to resist this time, he walks out into the snow and tosses you on the ground, landing you hard in the snow. 

“Get up, come on,” He's got his gun out again, pointed directly at you, “Towards the trees. Go!”

You try to collect yourself to stand up, but you're shaking so bad that you can barely keep your balance on your bare feet. Lacking the patience to wait for you to get a grip, he tucks an arm underneath yours and starts dragging you along again. 

The cold bites against the skin around your cuffed wrists. Your feet are so painfully frozen, they almost feel warm as you try to keep up with the man holding a gun to your head. 

It's a long walk to the tree line and by the time you make it there, you can't feel your feet or hands anymore. Your pajama bottoms are soaked through from the snow and you're convinced there's no possible way you can take another step, so you don't. You collapse at the base of the nearest tree, slipping out of his grip. 

“Any last words?” The man raises his pistol to your head once more, “I'll make this quick.”

As you look up at him, your attention is drawn to the black outline of a figure running through the snow behind him, about halfway between the house and the trees. Your brows furrow in confusion, prompting the man to turn around and follow your gaze. 

“What the fu-” You watch in disbelief as a sickening splatter of blood, bone, and brain matter explodes from one side of his head, tainting the bright white snow with a glistening red. All that can be heard besides your own heavy breathing is the loud crack echoing against the mountains. The light disappears from his eyes as his body crumples beneath him, landing with a soft crunch as the snow packs down underneath. 

You'd scream if you could feel any part of your body, but the best you can do is screw your eyes shut and hope you're not next. Your tears freeze against your cheeks as you cry and hold your arms as close to your body as you can for warmth, even if it's futile. 

Not long after, you hear fast approaching footsteps stomping through the snow, headed right your way. 

“Y/N?!” Your eyes snap open. You know that voice. 

“J-J-” With how bad your teeth are chattering, it's hard to speak. 

In an instant, John is in front of you, pulling off his coat to wrap around you. He crouches down to eye level with you and places both hands on your cheeks, looking at you, his deep, brown eyes are full of concern. 

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

You're not sure how to answer that question without crying even harder, so you just lift your hands up to show him the cuffs digging into your wrists. He seemingly understands what you're trying to say and turns towards the unmoving heap of a man on the ground. He searches through the man's pockets, pulling out a wallet, a cell phone, car keys, and finally, the keys to the handcuffs. John unlocks the cuffs quickly and tosses them into the snow beside you before gently rubbing the sore areas around your wrists. 

“Let's get you inside, hm?”

You nod eagerly and try to stand up with him, but you can't feel your legs and you end up losing your balance again, almost toppling over into the snow. Thankfully, John catches you before you hit the ground. 

“I c-can't-”

“Shh, I've got you. Hold on to me,” He reassures you. 

With that, John is placing your arm around his neck and picking you up bridal style. The walk back to the house seems even longer and colder than before. You hug his neck tightly as he carries you, hoping that your shaking doesn't bother him too much.

-

John carries you into the house, past the broken glass and snow that's blown in from the open doors, not stopping until he reaches your safe space, your library. He sets you down in your comfy chair and kneels down while holding your hand. 

“We have to get you out of these wet clothes, is that okay?” His tone is soft and sweet, yet urgent. 

Again, you nod and let him help you out of your freezing, wet pajamas. He starts with your bottoms, tucking his fingers under the waistband and pulling them down your legs. Next, he pushes the coat he gave you off your shoulders and carefully helps you lift your arms up to slide off your shirt. He dumps them in a soggy pile on the floor next to your chair.

“I'll be right back,” He pats your knee comfortingly before leaving the library.

You sit alone and shivering for a minute until John returns with a big, fluffy blanket. 

“Do you think you can take your underwear off by yourself?”

You look at him with wide eyes and then down at your hands. With how bad they are still shaking, and the fact you only kind of have feeling in them now, you aren't sure what you could do by yourself. 

“I'll help you. I won't look, just wrap yourself up in this.”

John wraps the blanket around the front of your body, then reaches around behind you to unclasp your bra and places it on top of your shirt in the pile. He kneels down again and reaches beneath the blanket, slowly pulling off your underwear and dropping them on top of your bra. You can feel your cheeks heating up from embarrassment, and you're glad at least some part of you seems to be warming up. 

Now that you're free from the clutches of the wet clothes, John turns away from you to relight the fireplace. While he's occupied, you pull the blanket around your shoulders and hold it closed in front of you, still partially numb to the fact that it was John who came to save you and you did not die back there. 

When he's finished with the fireplace, John comes back over and kneels on the floor in front of you, grabbing your hand and holding it tightly, like you'd float away if he lets you go. He still bears a twinkle of concern in his eyes but he doesn't say anything else. Together, you sit quietly, thawing out your extremities and regaining some of your composure. 

You’re first to break the silence once you're feeling properly warm again. 

“You came back?” You whisper.

“Of course I did, Y/N. I couldn't stay away.”

[1980shorrorfilm]

can you hold me together?

click!!!

pairing…skye riley x gn!reader

in which…skye had picked paul hudson over you, and now has to deal with the aftermath once she’s recovered and sober.

before you read…no demon au. angst with comfort. ur basically gemma. kinda short lmk how we feel about skye fics skye riley nation

“hey.” “hi.”

skye and you study each other, as if seeing each other for the first time again. it feels brand new, scary and exciting. she appears significantly less angry than the last time you were together. her eye bags weren’t as deepened or dark, tan skin insanely smooth, glowing, and beautiful. she is so beautiful.

even like this, at midnight, dressed in sweats. she could be wearing a garbage bag and still appear to be the stunning star that she is; something you had honestly told her.

she also looks very fucking stunned.

skye hadn’t expected you to come here, to be standing outside her door, in her presence. yeah, she had messaged you, asking you to, but she never thought that you would actually oblige.

you hadn’t been over in a very long time, the woman attempting to check in on you every so often, hoping that the day would come when your name would be in her notifications.

that day never came.

she couldn’t blame you, she had led your…friendship, down this road. the harsh and pointless arguments, the shutting you out when all you wanted was to be in her life, just to be replaced by someone else, someone she pretended to love.

sometimes you thought that was her punishment for you. you weren’t sure what for, but it had felt like it. seeing her and him dazzling on red carpets, all so fake.

maybe that’s why she made it a goal to ignore you, you saw through her. through everything that she tried to keep buried, you knew her too much. you had loved her too much, and at the time, skye had thought of it as suffocation.

caring too much for her when she was inevitably going to fuck up. she already carried the weight of the world on her shoulders from everyone else in her life, she did not want that with the person she had loved most.

so she made sure that wouldn’t happen. she got rid of you.

and like a stray animal in a storm, you’re at her door, both of you with weak smiles as if the last conversation held between you didn’t end with you two sobbing.

“do you want to…?” she asks the dumb question nervously, stepping aside to let you in.

you thank her, welcoming yourself into her calmly lit place, a sense of dread in your stomach despite the endless fond memories you had experienced here.

sitting beside her as she plays her piano, watching her delicate fingers drift over the keys, occasionally meeting her brown eyes. you always found peace when she was only singing to you, it seemed more personal. especially with the love songs that she kept for your ears and your ears only.

holding her on the cool tile of her kitchen floor, allowing her to cry in the safety of your arms from whatever was troubling her that day. you’d last in that position for hours, body going numb but you never complained. you welcomed it, if anything.

on top of her on her bed, listening to the sweet sighs leave her lips like the melody of her songs. sometimes skye needed you as close to her as possible, tasting you and relishing in it. it leaves a bad taste in your mouth now, worried those precious moments will never be replicated.

not with skye, and not with anyone that attempts to fill the skye-shaped void in your life.

“so…how are you?” skye speaks, gently shutting the door behind her. she doesn’t approach you, still eyeing you like an object that randomly spawned in her home.

you’re still studying her living space, but when you do turn to her, she takes notice of the cardboard box in your hands, resting against your stomach. blocking her from engulfing you tightly.

“good…yeah…fine. and you?”

“me too…i mean i’m also good.”

awkward. this is awkward, and both of you should have been prepared for this. skye did envision how this would go, the right things to say, but now all those planned words have died on her tongue. she gulps.

“i, uh…i wanted to apologize…for like…everything.”

“skye–” “the way i treated you after…after he showed up…i regret it. a lot,” she laughs nervously, one hand playing in her hair while the other is shoved in her pocket, “and you’re like, all i think about, so it’s been really fucking hard, you know? wondering where you are…if you’re okay…if you found someone new.” someone that wasn’t her, she thinks.

”and i just,” skye continues, approaching you, “i miss you…i have since…”

she lets her words linger, unable to say the hard part to your face. since she decided to leave you behind. when you stand before her, with the face she absolutely adores, it feels like hell to imagine she had made the same face cry. the same kind eyes pour like a rainstorm.

“i’m…i’m so sorry. i know that means probably nothing but i mean it...” skye honestly tells you, immediately anxious for whatever words were to leave your lips.

worried you wouldn't feel the weight of her words and how much she truly meant the things she had said. that the damage had been done, and she had lost the person that mattered to her most. for good, this time. a year of physical separation and endless stalking of social media already felt like torture to her.

for you, it’s almost overwhelming. you almost didn’t come here, you needed a motivation other than to simply see her. you wouldn’t know where that would lead you, showing up completely vulnerable. that’s what the box in your hands is for, why you’re here. why her words hurt you just as much as they heal you.

you feel the bubble in your throat begins to grow.

“i brought some stuff you never picked up from my place,” you say almost robotically, trying to not show any of the emotion pouring over you. you ignored her completely, skye’s brows furrowing in a blend of confusion and disappointment.

“w-what? i–” she stutters, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. “are you not going to acknowledge anything i just said?”

you take a step toward her, her arms suddenly occupied when you shove the box into them.

“it’s mostly clothes—”

“stop,” skye interrupts, eyes widening when you’re already walking away from her. towards the door. you hear a thud, the box now on her floor. then you feel her hand on your wrist, a tight grip to hold you in place.

“i d-don’t want my clothes, i want…” skye stops herself, pleading eyes doing all the talking for her. her heart is pounding, afraid all of her words were for nothing, that you’re done with her. for good. the worst possible scenario, that almost makes her want to breakdown and cry.

“i don’t know what you want me to say, skye.”

“fucking anything,” she laughs humorously, the uncomfortable hold she had on you loosening, but not completely. “y-you can even say you hate me— just anything.”

“i don’t…hate you.”

“you don’t?” she sounds…almost shocked. and that really hurts. you would never want skye to even think that was ever a possibility, and you wonder how long that idea has been in her head. “i figured after everything…”

after everything i still love you, is what you want to say. you don’t allow yourself to, not ready to put your heart on a platter and serve it to her, so instead you do the second best thing. you hug her. tightly, like someone is trying to take her away from you; a nightmare.

she embraces you just the same, if not tighter if that is possible without suffocating you.

“i’ve…missed you too,” you admit, “seeing your face everywhere doesn’t help.”

she groans as if she can relate, which in a way she can. she also sees your face everywhere, just not on the covers on magazines and billboards. in her head, before she sleeps, and when she wakes up.

“sorry about that.”

“don’t be…i’m proud of you. like, really proud of you skye,” you tell her, something you should’ve already said. “watching you get better…seeing you happy….that’s all i wanted.”

her heart flutters your name in morse code, your simple yet reassuring words feeling like the sun was beaming on her; as warm as your body is pressed against hers.

you hesitate, “you…are happy, right?”

“yes— yeah,” skye answers near immediately, “have almost everything i want.”

almost. the embrace comes to an end, her soft brown eyes meeting yours. you open your mouth, then shut it, because you don’t know what to say to her insinuation. you didn’t come here for this. you didn’t. and yet the barrier you placed between your heart and hers is crumbling.

“skye…” “i just want you back…in my life…that’s it…” she tells you, not wanting you to feel pressured romantically and scare you away. simply to have you within her grasp, to feel your love once more, is all she longed for. that is something that you have in common, so you nod.

“…okay.”

“okay?”

“okay, skye.”

she wears a bright smile, one of relief, of hope. hoping to mend your relationship, to make you feel comfortable enough again to have a genuine relationship. a pure one, not tainted by the person she used during the dark days of her past. to fix everything she had let go wrong.

a second chance. with the person she loves the most.