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celabi · 1 month ago

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𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒

shidou + sae + kaiser + ness + nagi + isagi + reo + rin x f reader

throws this at you and runs away giggling

shidou thinks he’s god’s gift to women.

even when he’s standing in the doorway of your shared bedroom in nothing but crusty spiderman boxers with a hole near the waistband, hair an untamed and wild mess, and that signature smug little smirk tugging at his lips.

there you’d be, lying in bed like a goddess in some delicate, sheer lace nightgown, white and silky, barely clinging to your figure, looking like you had just walked out of some teenage boys fantasy. like some playboy magazine cover model come to life.

and him.

he’s standing there like he’s the main fucking event. arms flexed slightly, hip cocked to the side, trying to give you the look, the one where he raises one of his eyebrows and puts on a sexy smoulder he learned when you both watch tangled the other night and won’t stop doing—

“you like what you see, babe?”

he winks, digging his thumb beneath the waistband and drawing back, only to let it slap back against his hip with a loud snap. “it’s your lucky night. spider man’s feelin’ real naughty...”

you blink.

he climbs into bed like he’s about to change your entire life, and the scent of his body spray (which smells suspiciously like the high school gym locker he confessed to you in all those years ago) hits you almost instantly.

you shuffle an inch away, a small grimace on your face which he immediately takes notices of. “what? awe, don’t act shy now, sweetheart,” he purrs, throwing an arm around your waist and pulling you back in, those fucking children’s boxers brushing up against your thigh. “you didn’t marry all of this for nothin.”

you sigh, a hand dragging down your face.

yes. you did marry him. you just didn’t know the spiderman boxers would come with the deal.

sae loved stuff like this.

you were practically bouncing with excitement, eyes sparkling as you dragged him through the zoo with the excitement of a small child.

“monkeys first,” you told him, clutching your camera to your chest. “the little ones that look like they’re judging everyone.”

sae gave a tiny smile, the kind he only ever gave you. “mm.”

you made a beeline for the primate exhibit, and he followed, hands in his pockets, steps a little lazy as he stayed behind.

and yeah, the monkeys were indeed adorable. tiny, scruffy, wide eyed little creatures that climbed all over each other and made judgmental little faces when people threw banana’s into the den. you cooed and laughed and snapped like fifty photos while sae leaned on the railing, watching you as if you were the attraction instead of the small animals.

and then, out of nowhere, he softly slips his hand into yours.

“honey, look.” he murmured, pointing behind you somewhere. you turned, expecting maybe a new baby monkey or something cute.

but no.

seagulls.

plain, loud, not even part of the zoo seagulls, strutting around like they owned the place. annoying visitors and making a mess of the trash can.

“…seriously?” you blinked. “the monkeys are right there and you’re watching birds?”

sae just shrugged, totally serious. “they’re smart.”

one of them squawked and stole a french fry from a kid who began to cry, and you swore you saw his eyes light up.

“see?”

you stared at him like he’d lost it. “you brought me to the zoo for cute animals and you’re impressed by street birds?”

he nodded. “they’re intelligent creatures.”

you sighed, but your lips twitched.

and when he took a sneaky photo of you next to a monkey doing the exact same unimpressed face, you let him.

kaiser was thriving.

lights flashing, fans screaming, reporters yelling his name from every direction, but none of it mattered. because you were on his arm, and you looked so fucking good it should’ve been illegal. and maybe it was, on his poor heart.

you, in a dress that made people double take. and him in a designer suit which basically screamed ‘look at me!’ but still refusing to let go of your hand for even a second.

“look this way, kaiser!”

“over here!”

“pose with the ball!”

“kaiser, who’s the woman with—”

“yeah yeah, i know, i’m hot,” he waved dismissively at the cameras, tugging you closer. “but have you seen her? look at her. look. she’s the star. me? i’m just her soccer groupie.”

you barely blinked, and shielding your eyes from the countless flashes. “you dragged me here.”

“because the red carpet needed flavor,” he grinned, nudging you playfully. “and you’re the whole meal. i’m just the bowl you sit in.”

“what does that even mean—”

cue the camera clicks exploding like fireworks.

someone handed him a microphone and instead of answering questions about his match performance, he started bragging about your skincare routine.

“she does this thing with, like, snail goo or whatever? and her face? glowing. radiant. i tried it once and got a rash.”

you quietly nodded beside him, giving the cameras a blank expression like this was just your normal tuesday.

he kept tugging you in for selfies, making sure they got his good side where his jawline was razor sharp, while you stayed poker faced the whole time, slightly turned away by the dozens of desperate faces trying to get some material of michael kaiser and the new woman on his arm.

“god… i love how mysterious you are,” he whispered in your ear over the raving crowd. “like people are gonna think you’re a secret agent.”

“…i’m literally an accountant.”

“mm, yeah, schatz… the hottest accountant i’ve ever seen.”

he didn’t even look at the photographers when they asked for solo shots. just kept gazing at you like you were the only thing worth capturing.

ness had never liked eating out.

not because the food was bad, no, he’d happily devour three servings if you let him, but because he couldn’t stand the idea of other people talking to you. looking at you. breathing near you. especially men.

and today?

you were barely five minutes into your meal when a cheery waiter stopped by your table, leaning just a little too close for ness’s liking.

“would you like some ketchup with that?” the guy asked with a smile.

you didn’t think much of it, just nodded politely and said, “sure, thank you.”

but across from you… ness stiffened.

his fork hovered mid air, his eye twitching, lips pressed into a thin line. he didn’t say anything right away. just… stared down at his plate like it had killed his entire family.

you glanced over when he doesn’t react to your foot softly rubbing against his ankle. normally you’d get a ‘yippie!’, so it was a little concerning.

“lexis…what’s wrong?” you raise an eyebrow.

“…ketchup.” he muttered.

“huh?”

ness turned to you, his voice a dramatic whisper, “so that’s what you’re into now, huh? ketchup guys?”

you blinked. “…what.”

he pointed his fork accusingly. “he asked if you wanted ketchup. and you said yes. to him.”

“…because he asked?”

“but why him?” he leaned closer, narrowing his eyes. “if i asked, would you have said yes too? or was it his ketchup you wanted?”

you just stared. “alexis, he’s a waiter.”

ness huffed, angrily stabbing at the fries on his plate. “i’m watching you. and your stupid ketchup.”

he sulked the rest of the meal, still feeding you bites of his burger, still playing footsie’s with you under the table, but glaring daggers at the ketchup bottle like it personally insulted him.

and later that night, you found your phone filled with photos of you and ness under an album label “the mustard to my mayo <3”

nagi had a problem.

you had a shiny umbreon. his favorite. it sparkled, it looked cool, and worst of all, you wouldn’t trade it to him, no matter how many shitty common pokémon he tried to offer you for it.

“it’s my favorite. i evolved it at midnight on purpose.”

nagi, who was laying upside down on your couch with his phone resting on his face, mumbles out a small, “i need it though.”

you didn’t budge, and so… phase two began.

nagi turned into the laziest scammer known to man.

he’d send you trades labeled “ultra rare secret glitch ‘mon” with the sketchiest lineups. rattata, rattata, rattata, shiny magikarp (nicknamed ‘definitely umbreon 2.0’).

“you renamed a magikarp and thought i wouldn’t notice?”

he yawned, rolling onto his tummy. “worth a shot…”

he got more elaborate. once wore sunglasses and a fake mustache, made a fake trainer profile called “pokechoki” and messaged you from across the couch like

“hello i am collector of rare pokémon. would like your umbreon. will give 4 bidoof.”

you turned, deadpan, and nudged his thigh with your fuzzy gengar socks. “nagi, you’re in the same room as me.”

“huh? don’t know of this ‘nagi’ person. i’m seishiro.”

eventually, he climbed into your lap like a giant sleepy cat, nuzzled into your neck, and tried to guilt you with his classic, “if you loved me… you’d give me your umbreon…”

you didn’t fall for it.

but you did catch him later, holding your phone while you were brushing your teeth, trying to sneak trade himself the umbreon while you were distracted.

his defense?

“…is it really stealing if ‘what’s mine is yours’?”

isagi has been so strange lately.

you’re in the kitchen, scrolling through your phone and sipping your coffee when you hear a thud in the hallway.

“i’m okay!”

his voice echoes from somewhere down the corridor.

you raise an eyebrow, not even surprised anymore. your husband had been on a mission lately, a weird mission to prove that even though you’re already married, he’s still “hot husband material.”

his latest phase? doing push ups shirtless whenever you’re nearby. flexing his biceps whenever he opens a jar. winking dramatically when handing you anything.

today was worse.

he strides into the kitchen moments later, dressed in nothing but grey sweatpants and a face filled with determination. a towel thrown over his shoulder like he’s in a men’s health shoot.

“babe,” he grins, “check this out.”

he goes to do a one armed push up right then and there on the kitchen tile, except his hand slips, and he faceplants so fast it sounds like a cartoon slap.

you sit up straighter and raise an eyebrow.

“…honey.. are you okay?” you ask, holding back a laugh.

he stays face down on the floor for a second before mumbling, “still hot though… right?”

you roll your eyes fondly and get up to sit on the floor next to him, nudging him with your knee.

“…you’re lucky i already said ‘i do’.”

he peeks up at you, grinning with a busted ego and a red forehead. “i’d marry you again if it helps my case.”

you kiss his forehead and shake your head. “let’s just keep the seduction off the kitchen floor, yeah?”

reo always had expensive taste.

in cars, in watches, in clothes.

but his favorite luxury? you.

he spoiled you when you were just his high school girlfriend. snuck designer bracelets into your locker, filled your dorm with roses during exams, flew you out for weekend getaways like it was nothing. the other girls were jealous, always whispering, “what does she have that we don’t?”

reo never gave them the attention they wanted. he just kissed your cheek and made you show off the shiny chain around your neck.

now, years later, not much has changed. except you now wear a ring on your finger, and his last name behind yours.

you wake up to breakfast already made, gifts by the door “just because,” and his card in your hand with a small, “go get yourself something pretty.”

he comes home from practice and scoops you up into his arms like a lovesick idiot, still obsessed, still whipped.

and when you pout? even a little? he acts like it’s a national emergency.

“what do you want, baby? tell me. shoes? a trip? my kidney?”

reo’s love language has always been excess, and when it comes to you, there’s no such thing as too much.

girlfriend or wife, high school or forever, spoiling you was always part of the plan.

rin itoshi, even as a fully grown man, was still… rin itoshi.

he might’ve been a world class athlete now, a stoic genius on the field, cold and composed in interviews, but at home? at your home?

he was still that emotionally constipated, socially awkward, emo haired boy who never knew what to do with his hands.

he sat stiffly at your parents dinner table, trying not to breathe too loud, trying not to make eye contact with your dad, silently praying the chair would collapse and swallow him whole.

you, sitting beside him, casually spooning mashed potatoes onto your plate, looked as chill as ever. like you weren’t dining with two parents who were grilling your boyfriend with every polite smile and every “so, rin, what are your intentions?”

you kicked his ankle under the table.

“sit up straight.” you whispered.

he was slouching like he wanted to vanish into his hoodie. and the worst part? he wasn’t even wearing a hoodie. he was wearing a button up shirt, with sleeves, rolled up.

also, you had brushed his bangs behind his ear before dinner and told him he looked cute like that so now his emo fringe shield was gone and he had to make full eye contact with your mom while she passed him the salad bowl.

“thanks.” he mumbled, voice barely audible.

your mom blinked. “sorry, sweetheart?”

you leaned in. “he said thanks.”

rin looked like he was about to throw up from how clenched his jaw was. then, as the cherry on top, your dad broke the very uncomfortable silence and said, “you know, itoshi, she’s quite a handful. you sure you can handle her?”

and rin, already clinging to life by a thread, nodded stiffly and raised a glass of water to his lips.

you patted his back with the most innocent expression in the world. “oh come on, rin. don’t act like you don’t worship the ground i walk on.”

he glared at you. cheeks pink. ears red. small frown.

still the same awkward, emotionally stunted guy from his blue lock days.

but your fingers brushed his under the table, and you smiled at him softly. and maybe, maybe, he could handle dinner with your parents after all.

as long as you didn’t make him talk too much.

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yanderedrabbles · 4 months ago

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This is a thought I’ve had ever since i read your yandere outlaws story: what if you (try to) run away with one of the outlaws…could you even do that…. Would the poor guy even survive if you two get caught

Which of the yandere outlaws would run away with you?

CW: noncon, violence, knife play

You can't exactly ask the boss to run away with you. He's got responsibilities, authority. His men rely on him. If he wasn't the boss though? Yeah, in that case his loyalty would stretch very far at all.

The gunslingers absolutely would. But is it really a good idea? Without the boss around, there's no one keeping them in check. How much tighter will their grip be, with no one to scold them for the bruises?

They're the type to make you earn their help, and then force you to keep paying off that favour for the rest of your life.

"Mighty dangerous thing you're askin' pretty."

"How you gonna compensate us for our trouble?"

The wrangler absolutely wouldn't. Which is a real pity, since he's probably the only one with the skills to evade tracking. But he's also loyal to a fault.

"I wish I could beauty, but there are some debts that can never be repaid."

The kid, hmm. Yes. Maybe. It depends on how much time they give him. The outlaws know he's still soft, so I don't think they'll leave him alone with you for too long. He's young and guilty. You can definitely manipulate him.

"I'll...I'll do it. Just don't tell anyone, 'kay?"

The second in command, the man who claims to love you. You'd think all it would take is batting your pretty eyes and asking him to take you away from all this. And you'd be partly right. If it was any other gang, he'd be gone with you by morning.

But despite all their flaws, these outlaws are his brothers. He owes the boss his loyalty.

He's also a practical man. He knows it will be considered a betrayal. And the boss isn't one to let that slide. Even if he did make it out with you, he'd spend his whole life looking over his shoulder. And what kind of life is that?

"No. You belong here. Nowhere else."

But let's ignore all of that and assume you do manage to run away. How will the outlaws react to you and the traitor?

The boss will shoot them. It doesn't matter who. And then he'll bend you over the nearest thing and fuck some sense into you. Rough this time. Not holding back. You've proven kindness is wasted on you. Anal probably, dry and unprepped.

You realise for the first time exactly how thin his patience is. How cold and terrifying his anger. He'll be clipped and curt the entire time. "Move it." "C'mere." "Suck it." No sweet pet names this time, no treating you like his little girl. You want that softness? You're going to have to earn it back.

The gunslingers will make a game of it. Say whoever finds you gets to have you all week. They'll kill the traitor slow. Maybe leave him out for the ants and coyotes. And then they'll tell the boss you need to be punished.

They're the kind of bastards who'll slap a knife against your pussy just to see you shiver, scrape the tip against your inner thighs. Never drawing blood but always getting oh so close.

Double penetration too, until you're too cock drunk and hurt to even think about running.

The wrangler is the one who can track you down the fastest and also the first one to figure out if you're plotting something. He won't tell the others. He'll just follow you and come out of the dark like a ghost. Shotgun levelled right at your heart. He won't kill the traitor, but the cold glint in his eyes shows you exactly how close he is to doing it.

When he gets you home, he'll make you sleep in his bed. So if anyone mentions your absence, he can say you were with him.

He won't be angry with you. Instead, he'll just hold you. His chin on the crown of your head as you sob into his chest.

"I'm sorry beauty. But there really is no way out. Wherever you run, I will always find you."

If it's the boy who finds you, it's a toss up. He might let you go, might remember how much you cried that first day. He might still be a good person at heart.

Or, he might see this as his opportunity to finally earn the rest of your body. That's what the gunslingers said, remember? If he wants to fuck you, he needs to earn it. And what better way than to bring you home?

The second in command almost never gets angry, but this time? He doesn't even bother with a gun. He kills the traitor with a knife. Rips his throat out and leaves him to bleed out on the desert sand.

He's explosive. Grabs you by the jaw and throws you against the wall. Kisses you before you can fall, ripping your clothes off with one hand. He's the worst of them all when it comes down to it. His anger making him twice as cruel and thrice as callous.

He fucks you with the other man's blood still splattered across his face.

"You wanna be like that? Don't like it when I'm nice? Fine."

He'll fuck you dry, his hand around your throat the entire time. His lips just the tiniest bit away from yours, just watching the fear and the tears. Revelling in them. When you're done, he shoves you down on the bed.

"Open your fucking mouth."

He'll make you suck the blood and come off his cock, pulling your hair so hard it gives you a migraine.

He'll grab your jaw so hard the bones ache, and yank you up to his lips.

"I'll fucking kill you next time."

You believe him.

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #yandere x reader #Yandere Outlaws

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beefjumper · 4 months ago

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Life Series but beefburgered

Hello my tumblr 👋 I'm not dead, I've just been fandom jumping then felt the urge to make somewhat of a reference sheet for the lifers for future use. Yap session about the designs below:

Grian: Very standard Grian. You can smell the Cherrifire influence in this one. I imagine the turtleneck being wide enough to hide his mouth behind as he stares menacingly into the distance. His eyebrows are practically fused with his eyes but it's probably best not to think about it too much. I have considered placing a literal waffle on the back of his head but it might be tedious to draw continuously.

Scar: Everytime I draw Scar he looks weird. It might be because I'm not too good with longer faces, but that's how I'd imagine the character looks like. I think I'll switch up this design a lot as his eyes and hair bug me sometimes. Maybe experiment with the scars too. Artists make him look really cool as an explosion victim.

Mumbo: The slicked back hair looks right. Extra strand sticking out to make him look a bit disheveled. I wonder if I should commit to making him look more goth/vampire-like. He gets a tiny mullet because it fits.

Jimmy: Wanted to make him look a bit bird-like so I tried to express that with the back of his head. I hope he looks pathetic enough.

Joel: Fairly shrek-like. I wanted to make him look grumpy so he has a shorter and broader build. Also decided that one green hair streak wasn't enough for my satisfaction. His brown coat has a honeycomb pattern, but that's not too obvious. Also, he is shorter than Lizzie.

Scott: Pretty sparkly guy. I wanted him to look quite friendly. He actually has thick eyelashes here instead of eyeshadow but I'm not against that idea either. Kind of miss his Last Life skin.

Impulse: I don't watch Impulse too much so this design was based on some common interpretations of him. The horns are a cute idea.

Skizz: Very standard Skizzleman design. The ripped sleeves and the arms are probably my favorite thing. Maybe I should add more hair on the arms.

Tango: People tend to draw him really different, so I took aspects from designs I liked and put it here. Both his sclera and shades ended up being red, but I thought the sclera was iconic and the design looks more interesting with shades on. I'm not sure if I'd prefer for Tango's hair to literally be made out of fire. I tried making it resemble fire instead.

Etho: Attempted to make him a contender for Top 10 Hottest Anime Men. I'm always interested to see how people work around his definitely unrecognizable Minecraft skin (sarcastic). Like other designs, I think I'll add a maple leaf on his clothes or something.

Bdubs: He looks more terrifying than I intended but that might be the point. Might change his hairstyle here. I'd like to draw his white-haired skin at some point.

Cleo: Very standard ZombieCleo design. The hair was based on their VTuber but I decided to use the clothes from their Minecraft skin. The stitches are the fun part. I might make her hair curlier.

Martyn: Very standard InTheLittleWood design. You can smell the Cherrifire influence in this one ×2. The little beard is a wonderful addition I think.

Ren: Picking between black or cyan shades was tough. He also gets an obligatory ponytail because uhm. Tail. Dog. Get it? I also took a good while figuring out how I should go about his ears. I wasn't satisfied with human ears but I needed the shades to fit somehow. You can smell the Cherrifire influence in this one ×3

Lizzie: Yes, I have watched Empires S1 and S2 and it shows. Whoever first decided to give Lizzie cat-like buns should be given an award. I like the idea of heart-shaped buns too so maybe I'll alternate on that.

BigB: Very standard Bigbst4tz2 design. Don't let his friendly interaction with Lizzie fool you but he tends to stare into your soul for uncomfortably long periods of time. The highlights in his eyes come and go.

Gem: Very standard GeminiTay design. She probably has my favorite skin among this batch. I heard there was a shortage of elf Gem (there isn't) and I have decided to contribute to that (because there's no such thing as too many elf Gems).

Pearl: Inside Pearl are two wolves and I decided to draw the one that's sopping wet. Her hair has a few crescent-shaped curls. I'm definitely looking forward to drawing her more intimidating side sometime.

Overall I was hoping to make the designs simple and mostly accurate to skins/pfps. Nothing too special, other than a few pointy ears I sprinkled around here and there. I might add more to the designs the more I draw them.

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marvelwitchergilmore · 10 months ago

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Busted

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> Rogue has a date, and you and Logan decide to follow. You're just making sure she's safe. But sometimes it's in moments like that, that you find out your 'husband' is the love of your life.

Disclaimer: Mostly chaos, fluffiness, fake dating, mentions of being a soldier, the claws come out briefly, a nosy book club and its members. Some swearing, steam and a little angst. I wrote this over two days so apologies if it becomes spotty. This is a long one. Not Proof Read.

Rogue had a date.

Both yourself, Logan and…practically most of the teachers in the school knew about Rogue having a date.

Yet, despite knowing all of this. And somewhat knowing the guy’s intentions…Logan had decided to follow them.

And you had found yourself tagging along.

“And what did you think you were gonna do when they figured out you were following them?” You asked him. “At least this way it just looks like we decided to pick up dinner in town.”

“At the same restaurant?”

“You ask that as if this wasn’t your idea.”

“Oh please,” Logan practically rolled his eyes at you. “I saw what you were actually looking at early. You were caseing the place.”

“I was looking at their opening times.” You countered, if a little harshly.

“You were casing the joint and you know it. If I wasn’t coming down here, you would have already come.”

You gave a short, heavy sigh. “Fine. I wanted to make sure this wasn’t some kind of set up. I just want her to be safe and have fun.”

“And I want to make sure the guy isn’t a creep.” Logan finalised before opening up the door for you allowing you to step inside.

“Hello, madam! Ah, good sir! Table for two?” The waiter looked at his list.

Logan looked and felt a little out of place. He was hoping you could both enter quietly, not have an announcement made to the entire restaurant.

“Uh, yea. Yes, please.”

The waiter smiled, picking up two menus. “Please, this way.”

“Logan.”

Logan followed your line of sight to see where Rogue and her date were sitting, smiling and laughing with one another as they looked over the menus.

“Uh, actually, bub?”

The waiter turned around. “Yes, sir?”

“If you don’t mind we’d like to sit…” Logan looked around and found an empty table. “There.”

You saw where he pointed and realised why. Too far back into the restaurant, you’d pass right by the happy couple.

Sitting where Logan was currently looking, gave you direct sight of the happy couple and with a chance, more coverage from the rest of the guests.

“There?” The waiter asked, a little offended. “Oh, no, Sir. Please. We have a lovely booth for a couple such as yourself back here. Romantic candle light, a lot more privacy, no?”

You felt yourself blush at what the waiter was trying to subtly say.

And it seemed that Logan caught on, too. And looked at you, unsure of what to do.

You gave a small laugh and moved closer to Logan, “I’m sure, but you see, the thing is, my…”

You hesitated a little on your next words. “Husband.”

Christ, you felt that lie weigh on your chest.

“He was in the army. Not a big fan of not being able to see the door. Just a habit, I suppose.”

The waiter gave a softer smile. “Ah, no worries.”

Swiftly, he began leading you both towards the table Logan had pointed out. “My sister is serving overseas right now. We are all very proud. Thank you for your service, Sir.”

Logan gave an awkward smile and thanked the waiter before you both sat down with your menus.

“I thought we were busted then,” Logan shifted in his seat.

“So did I,” you replied. “So long as they don’t draw any-”

“So, what will it be?”

Both yourself and Logan jumped at the waiter's sudden reappearance. However, he didn’t seem to notice as he began rattling off the specials. And then the wines. And then came the crash.

Everyone’s heads turned inside the restaurant.

Including Rogue’s.

Quickly, you scooted your chair around so the waiter blocked you from view. By the time he turned back around, muttering about incompetencies about the newer staff members, he excused himself and headed in the direction of the crash.

You saw Rogue settle her back to talking with her date and you breathed again, pulling your chair back to its original position.

The waiter returned.

“So, what will you be having?”

This time he blocked your view from Rogue’s table, giving Logan a clearer view of her date. You could see something flare up in Logan.

“Uh, we’re gonna need another minute.” You said hurriedly, willing the waiter to walk away.

And he did.

For a moment.

“Logan.”

He turned back to you. “What?”

“Have you decided yet?” The waiter was back.

Logan took your menu from you and placed it with his before handing it over to the waiter, who seemed shocked for a moment since it took him just as long to realise what Logan was doing.

“Two cheeseburgers, a side of fries and two sodas. Please.”

The waiter seemed to force his smile a little. “Of course, sir. Anything else?”

“No, thank you.” You replied and the waiter bowed his head before walking away.

For a split second as you looked at Logan, you felt a comfort in your gut. And apparently the look was still clear on your face when he looked back at you.

“What?”

You shook your head, snapping yourself out of it. “Nothing, just…well, the last time a guy ordered my food for me he ordered me a salad, with a side of vinegar and sparkling water.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, slightly confused. “Is that what you wanted?”

“Fuck no.” You answered honestly. You didn’t want it then, and you sure as hell didn’t want it now.

Especially the sparkling water.

Logan looked at you for a moment in a silence you hadn’t known from him before. Then he turned back to watch Rogue’s date.

And there was that look again.

“Logan. You can’t kill him from here.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

You nodded. “I know that. And so does everyone else in this restaurant. At least now I know why Scott doesn’t send you undercover.”

Logan turned back to you.

“You might be the ‘mysterious, silent’ type but if someone took one look at your face, they’d find their answers.”

“Are you saying I’m easy to read?”

Someone came and placed your drinks down on the table. You shrugged.

“To the people who know you, yes.”

“Okay, then. Fine.” Logan turned his full attention onto you. “What am I thinking?”

“That I’m wrong. And that you wished you had the powers of invisibility so you could be closer to the table without being seen and mess with her date whilst he can’t see you.”

Logan remained still for a second before shifting in his seat. “Okay, fine. Maybe I am easy to read.”

You smiled and took a sip of your soda. “See.”

For the next twenty five minutes, things ran smoother than expected. You both enjoyed your meals, yourself and Logan talked a little however spent most of your time watching Rogue and her date enjoy their time.

“What would you do?”

Logan hummed a questioned response.

“If you took someone out on a date? What would you do?”

Logan scrunched up his paper napkin and placed it beside his plate. “Why do you want to know?”

You shrugged, looking away from Rogue’s date. “Curiosity? I’ve had that many crappy dates in my time, maybe you can rescue my last sliver of hope.”

Logan felt a smile on his face for a moment, hearing your plea for hope.

“Oh, come on. They’re talking. If we look at them any longer they might sense someone staring.”

Logan sighed. “Fine.”

“So, what would you do?”

Logan shrugged. “I don’t know. Go for a drink, maybe some food. Honestly, it’s been a while since I’ve dated.”

“Seriously?”

Logan nodded. “Seriously. What about you?”

You thought about it for a moment. “Well, the last date I went on the guy ordered my food for me.”

“Sparkling water guy?” Logan asked.

You nodded. “One in the same. He spent two hours talking about his businesses, and didn't notice I hadn’t touched my food. Or my drink, for that matter. Then at the end, said that if we ever got married, I wouldn’t have to worry about anything other than what I was going to make him for his dinner each night.”

“Fucking asshole. Why did you stay?”

You decided to answer honestly. “Didn’t have anything else to do. And my friends had been on my case about my dating life. They were all either married or getting married or starting a family, and when they said they knew this “really great guy, you’ll just adore him” I decided to give it a shot.”

“What did they do when they found out he was an asshole?”

“Couple apologised, others asked me to give him a second chance. They haven’t tried setting me up with anyone since.”

Logan watched you for a moment as you pulled your soda to your lips. He wanted to punch the Sparkling Water Guy. He didn’t realise how lucky he was to be on a date with someone like you. And, in all honesty, he wasn’t too happy with your friends either.

“You deserve better.”

Your eyes widened and for a moment Logan thought he had fucked up, saying that to you out loud.

“Logan. Logan, quick. Shit.”

Then he noticed where you were looking. Rogue was standing up, as was her date.

“Shit.”

You looked around you, trying to find the best place to hide yourself. Only Logan found a solution.

From under the table, he grabbed the bottom of your chair and pulled you closer towards him.

“Just keep looking at me, hopefully we’ll just blur in with the rest of the crowd.”

And you did. You kept your eyes on Logan.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Rogue slipping her coat on with her date’s help, who just so happened to rake his eyes up and down her body from the back whilst she wasn’t looking.

Then he felt your hand on his.

“Logan,” you whispered to him, getting his attention.

With your hand on his, you were covering the tips of his claws that started peeking out from between his knuckles.

“He’s just helping her put her coat on.”

Logan felt the tips of his claws retract, however three small holes were left in the cloth on the table beside his plate.

“Sorry.”

You just smiled. “It’s okay.”

Then the waiter came back. “Ah, so lovely to see a couple so in love.”

You felt your cheeks go red and hid your face against Logan’s shoulder as he curled his arm around your back and smiled at the waiter. “Can we have the check?”

The waiter nodded. “Of course, just one moment.”

Within seconds, the waiter was back just as Rogue and her date walked out of the door.

“Have a lovely evening!” The waiter called out to both of you as Logan took your hand and headed for the door.

Rogue and her date were already half way down the street.

“Where are they going?”

“Maybe he’s walking her to the cab station?” You offered.

Logan, with his eyes still fixed on the dates, nodded his head in the opposite direction. “Taxis’ that way.”

Looking back at you, you both made a simultaneous decision and were back to following them.

“Where the hell could they be going?”

“Maybe they’re just going for a walk. It is still early and they looked like they were having fun. Some couples like to take a walk together after a date.”

“They’re not a couple yet. And this is their first date.”

You caught up beside Logan and pulled him to a slower pace so neither of you looked like frantic maniacs going down Main Street.

“If we get any closer, they’re gonna see us.”

“You’re right.”

Yourself and Logan tailed them down the street and around the park before deciding to head back home. “If they’re coming round on the top of the street, they’re gonna see your car.”

Logan looked around him before taking hold of your hand and nearly pulling your arm out of its socket. “This way.”

“Logan, slow down.” You told him. “We aren’t all ten feet tall.”

Thankfully, he did slow down, however didn’t let go of your hand.

“Do you think we did the right thing? Following them?”

You nodded. “I was questioning it at first but…at least this way we know the guy actually meant what he said when he asked her out. Oh, shit

“What?”

You just managed to push Logan into the doorway of a closed bookstore, pushing his back against the glass.

“What are you doing?”

“Uhhh,” you panicked. “Nothing. Just a…puddle. Big puddle.”

“It hasn’t rained in three days. What are you-”

Logan stopped when he saw what you had seen. Rogue’s date was about to lean in to kiss her.

You pushed him back, trying your best to keep him pinned to the wall. “Okay, I get we tailed them most of the night but we have to give them some privacy.”

“Did he even ask?”

“I don’t know, but just keep your voice down. The car is three spaces away. Hopefully they’ll be distracted long enough to-”

You peered back round the corner. “Oh, thank god.”

“What? What’s going on? Has hell opened up and sucked him in?”

You looked back at Logan, a little less than amused. “They’re going into the ice cream shop. Come on, before they see us.”

However, just as you both stepped out of the doorway, you found your path blocked by an elderly woman and her dog.

She chuckled to herself. “Don’t mind me kids, just taking Frankie on a walk. And don’t worry, honey. I remember when I first met my Harry. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other.”

You let out a nervous laugh as Logan looked like he was about to burst from embarrassment as he ran a hand through his hair, his shirt coming untucked and showing off a small hint of his torso.

Mrs Keller watched where your eyes landed and gave you a knowing albeit loving smirk as she watched you move closer to Logan, tugging his shirt down a little and pressing close into his side.

“We should get going. It was nice seeing you Mrs Keller.”

Mrs Keller waved you both off towards Logan’s car. “I’ll see you for next week's book club?”

You nodded. “I’ll be there.”

“Feel free to bring your husband along,” she called back. “It’ll drive Little Miss Prissy up the wall that you’ve been keeping that Handsome Fella a secret.”

You laughed nervously once again, as Logan gave you a slight smirk despite his initial embarrassment at what the old lady thought you were both doing.

“Good night, Mrs Keller.” You called out before Logan repeated it.

She waved you both goodbye before continuing down the street with Frankie walking by her side.

Closing the passenger door, you covered your face with your hands already feeling Logan’s eyes and teasing smile on you.

“She was nice.”

“Shut up and drive.”

Logan chuckled, placing his key into the ignition and pulling out of his spot, his hand behind your headrest as he did so when looking over his shoulder.

Barely five minutes into the drive, Logan started asking you questions.

“You’re a part of a book club?”

“We all meet every fortnight and talk about books.”

“And Mrs Keller…?”

You sighed.

“Is one of the founding members. I met her at the library one day when taking some books back. She was at the desk asking if they had the newest Danielle Steel. They didn’t, but I had seen it in the shop window in a bookstore on the other side of town. We walked together and she invited me to join.”

“How was the book?” Logan asked.

“I cried.” You answered honestly. “First book I actually cried at.”

Logan let out a small laugh and you hit his arm whilst trying to hold in one of your own. “Don’t laugh.”

“I-I’m not laughing. Okay, maybe I am. I mean, it is funny. Is this where you’ve been disappearing every other Saturday?”

You nodded. “Pretty much. They’re a fun group. Well, most of them are.”

“Let me guess?” Logan asked. “Little Miss Prissy?”

You groaned. “She lives two doors down from Eva. Eva can be nice, but Prissy? God, she’s a nightmare. Every time it’s her turn to talk, she somehow manages to turn it back to her and her “ever doting husband” and their “precious baby niece and nephew” and “oh, look at how cute he is with them.” You know, we read American Psycho once. She still managed to turn it back to her husband.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” you continued. “If she wanted to know about anyone else’s love life. Like…” you sighed, thinking of an example. “Mrs Keller? Her and Harry have been together since they were seventeen. They met when they were twelve, lived across the street from each other their entire lives. Mrs Keller had been stood up for one of the local dances by Harry’s friend. So, the minute he found out, he ran over to her house, still covered in motor oil and asked her to the dance. Mrs Keller deserves to write her own romance book for everything that her and Harry have done together. But can she get a word in edgewise? Nope.”

“Sounds like a love for the ages.” Logan said with a soft smile on his lips, looking at you before turning his gaze back to the road in front of him. “And by the sounds of it, Mrs Keller is going to give her something else to talk about.”

You covered your face again. “Oh, god.”

“Hey, come on, it can’t be that bad.”

“How do I tell Mrs Keller I’m not married? She’s gonna think that I’m-”

“What if you didn’t?”

You turned and looked at Logan. “What?”

“What if you didn’t? Tell them you’re not married? I mean, it’s not like they’re gonna meet me.” Logan explained. “Just…keep up with the lie.”

“And what do I do when they ask me questions?”

Logan shrugged. “Just…bend the truth.”

“Okay,” you sat up in your seat, deciding to test him. “How did we meet?”

“At work. We’re both teachers.”

“When was our first date?”

Logan thought about it. “Six months after we met. We decided to stay up late and ate leftover Chinese food.”

You furrowed your brows. How the hell did he manage to answer these so quickly? Sure, most of it was true. You were both teachers, and the first night you spent alone in the same room together was eating the leftovers in the fridge. Of course, what wasn’t being said was that you both actually met when Logan nearly bulldozed you when he ran into the Professor’s office just after he’d woken up in Jean’s lab. Or how neither of you had properly spoken to one another until that night six months later.

Or how afterwards, it took a long time for you to make a genuine friendship with him that wasn’t just talking about the team or what the students had to learn in that semester.

“And then what?” You asked him. “We kissed and lived happily ever after?”

Logan shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

You groaned again. “I hate lying to Mrs Keller.”

“You just lied to her like ten minutes ago. We both did.”

Eventually, Logan pulled up outside of the school and left the car back where he had found it.

“Like we never left.”

You smiled. “Come on, before she gets back and figures out what we’ve been doing.”

Walking through the school ground and up the front steps, both you and Logan chatted away, laughing a little here and there about anecdotes you were telling him.

Then you were alone in the middle of the empty hallway, cast in darkness and hints of moonlight.

“We should get to bed before they get back.”

“I think I might stay up and wait for her to get back. Make sure he didn’t do anything he shouldn’t have done.”

You stepped a little closer to him. “Be nice, Logan.”

“I’m always nice.”

You just raised an eyebrow at him.

“Okay, fine.” Logan sighed a laugh. “I’ll be nice.”

“Thank you. Tell me how it goes?”

Logan nodded. “Course.”

However, as you both stood together in the hallway, soaking in the vision of the other, you both heard footsteps.

“Shit.”

Logan looked around. “Here.”

Taking your hand, Logan pulled you into the small space besides the bookshelf and the window.

Being pressed between the wall and him, you felt his scent and body heat swirl around you and mix with your own. Your own heartbeat was drumming so loud in your eardrums you could hardly hear what Rogue was saying when she was talking to her date.

From above you, Logan leaned down, his eyes roaming across your face, whilst you found your own gaze doing the same.

Your heartbeat seemed to drum harder and faster against your chest, your lungs trying to find an even pace to breathe at.

But you weren’t the only one struggling with that.

Because Logan’s breathing had become laboured as he looked at you, wanting the space between you both to be further so he could think clearer and not do something you both could regret, but at the same time, for you to be closer to him so he could cross that line.

You swallowed thickly, trying your best to keep your gaze from his lips.

You were failing.

“Logan…”

“Y/n…”

The hand you had pressed against his chest slid up his chest before you took a wad of the loose fabric by his collar in your hands, holding him closer, begging for that line to be crossed. Just as you did so, his own hand pushed the hair from beside your face, his hand gripping onto the space between your neck and your shoulder. Maybe if he forced himself, he wouldn’t move his hand and he wouldn’t cross that line.

“Alright, where are you two?”

You and Logan stilled. “Maybe if we’re quiet…”

Rogue started walking around. “You wouldn’t have gone to bed yet. Where are you? Oh, come on. I saw you both in the restaurant.”

You and Logan sighed and he closed his eyes, leaning a little further into you. You didn’t want him to leave.

“Busted.”

Slowly, you and Logan came out from your hiding spot and Rogue spun around her heels. “There you both are.”

“Look, before you yell, you need to know something.”

Rogue crossed her arms, waiting.

“It was Y/n’s idea.”

“Logan.”

But rather than yell, Rogue laughed a little. “Why does something tell me that’s a lie?”

Logan shrugged. “It might be part of a lie.”

You gave a sigh. He was hopeless.

“We just wanted to make sure you were safe. And, if you want to know, we’ve already learnt our lesson.”

“Really?”

Logan nodded in agreement with you. “Just take our word for it.”

“So, how did your date go?”

Rogue smiled. “If you must know, we’re going out again next Saturday. He’s going to take me to the movies and then we’re gonna go bowling.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“It will be,” Rogue said. “So long as you two promise to not follow us this time?”

You crossed a sign over your heart. “I swear.”

Rogue waited for Logan to do the same, and only when you nudged him did he do so. “But I’m dropping you off.”

“Just agree,” you told Rogue. “It’ll be easier on all of us.”

Rogue agreed. “Fine. You can drop me off.”

Not long after that, both yourself and Logan went to bed whilst Rogue walked towards the kitchen to grab a bottle of water before doing the same.

“Are we being overprotective?”

“She’s just a kid, Y/n. We’re allowed to be.”

Logan walked you to your door, both of you calling goodnight to each other. However, you didn’t fall asleep.

At least for the first couple of hours.

Mrs Keller thought you were married.

Married to the same man you were friends with.

The same friend you had almost kissed.

The same friend who had almost kissed you.

By the time you woke up the next morning, you seemed to be the only one awake. It was no surprise though, considering you were still three hours off the clock having a one at the beginning of it.

“Morning.”

You jumped a little when you heard a voice before you opened your eyes to confirm it was Rogue’s voice who had spoken to you.

“What are you doing up? It’s 7 am. And a Sunday.”

Rogue gave a smile. “Could ask you the same thing.” Rogue told you. “Figured you’d be wrapped in Logan’s arms right now.”

Your back was to her as you opened up one of the doors to the fridge, however became completely still and forgot why you’d opened the damn thing in the first place.

“What?”

Turning around, you saw Rogue and her smirk, sip at her coffee.

“I saw you and Logan last night.”

Beside the bookcase?

“At the restaurant?” Rogue was confused by the more than panicked look on your face. She had said she saw you both, when she got home last night, didn’t she. “You and Logan were sat at the table by the window?”

“Oh…” You felt your heart leave the vice you’d just locked it in. “Oh, yeah.”

Rogue smiled again. “Looked pretty cosy if you ask me.”

“Good job no one’s asking you.”

Milk. That’s why you opened the fridge.

Taking the carton out, you closed it behind you and reached for a bowl and some cereal.

“All snuggled up together, his arm around you. I was pretty sure he would have kissed you if the waiter didn’t interrupt. Though, if he didn’t, maybe you would have done more than kiss at that table.”

“Rogue!”

She laughed. “What? Oh, come on. I’ve seen the way you look at each other. Seen the way he looks at you.”

She mumbled that last sentence into her coffee cup leaving you questioned just exactly what she meant by it.

“It’s too early in the morning for this,” you grumbled to yourself, replacing the cereal box in the cabinet.

“You could always go back to bed.” Rogue offered. “Or go and see if Logan wants some company.”

You turned around a slightly shocked, slightly disgusted look on your face. “Oh my god.”

“I’m kidding.” Rogue laughed out. “Kinda.”

“When did you grow up?” You asked out loud, coming to the daily realisation that Rogue wasn’t the little kid you had first met when she arrived at the school but was, in fact, very quickly on her way to becoming a full grown woman. After all, she had started taking on a small time tutoring job and she was still a couple months away from graduation.

The rest of the day went smoothly. Well…as smooth as it could go when you were having a constant internal flashback to the night before. Mrs Keller and what she thought you and Logan were doing, it almost happening beside the bookcase, and then you walked in on him in his bathroom.

He had said it was safe for you to come inside, and you had happened to see him shirtless a couple of times. Though never in sync with a time when at least two people on the planet thought you were married, another one was trying to convince you she saw, at the very least, something similar to what the others had and the two minutes spent beside the bookcase which you had thought about over and over.

“Hank is asking if you want corn or peas.” You told Logan as you walked inside, trying your best not to yell or scream out loud and retreat away.

“Either is fine. You okay?”

You snapped your eyes back to Logan’s face. “Hm? Oh, yeah. Fine. Have you talked to Rogue?”

“Not today,” he replied. “Why? Should I have done?”

You couldn’t help but shudder. “No. That kid is scary.”

You heard Logan laugh as you closed the door a little as you headed back out.

“Hey, wait.”

You opened the door again, holding onto the frame for dear life. “Yeah?”

“About last night…”

“What about last night?” You tried your best to remain as casual as possible, though it didn’t help when you remembered Logan was practically a walking lie detector.

He could hear your heartbeat.

And it was only getting faster.

You told yourself to calm down.

It was only a question.

A big question.

That he hadn’t finished.

Was he going to tell you to forget about it? Was he going to pretend it didn’t happen? Did it happen? Had you made the entire thing up? Was the line that you thought had blurred for a second been completely in bold this entire time and hadn’t shifted?

“Thanks…for coming with me…I know you would have gone anyway. But, I’m glad you didn’t try to stop me.”

You smirked a little. “Logan, you’re made of metal. The only practical way I could have is if I owned an industrial magnet.”

Logan chuckled a little. “Still. I’m glad you came. It’s nice to know the kid’s not alone, you know?”

You nodded. “I know. Anyway, I should probably…”

“Yeah, yeah. I, uh, I’ll meet you down there.”

You nodded, letting your eyes take a mental picture of Logan before you shut the door again and headed downstairs and back into the kitchen.

“He said either.”

Hank nodded and turned back to the stove.

“You were up there for a while,” Rogue appeared by your side. “And you look a little flushed.”

You turned your head to look at her and glared. “I do not.”

“You do look a little red in the cheeks, Y/n.” Hank added from where he was standing, busying himself by the stove.

“Maybe I’m coming down with something.” You pressed your hands to your cheeks to hide them.

Rogue stood in front of you and pressed the back of her hand to your head. “You don’t feel hot, maybe- Oh, hey Logan!”

Rogue broke out into a wide grin.

Logan was a little shocked by Rogue’s enthusiasm. “Hey, kid.”

“Come here, does Y/n feel hot to you? She’s looking a little flushed.”

“Rogue.” You warned under your breath. But she just smiled and pulled Logan over where her hand was replaced by Logan’s.

And there it was again.

That same…difference.

Just like when you stood in front of him when you both got back, before you hid beside the bookcase.

“N-no. She feels…she feels okay.”

Rogue looked back at Hank who was trying his best to hide his smile. “Why, Logan, you’re looking a little flushed yourself.”

Logan quickly stepped back, as did you. Only, you fell into the counter and gripped onto it for dear life.

You looked down at the floor.

“Maybe you’re coming down with something, too. I hope it’s not catching.”

Logan shook his head. “I can’t get sick.”

Hank hummed. “Must be something else then.”

“Must be.” Logan’s voice was quiet as he looked at you and found you looking back.

Though you couldn’t look for too long, feeling your cheeks heat up again.

“I better-”

“Yeah, I’m gonna-”

Both yourself and Logan headed in opposite directions. Yourself out of the kitchen the way you came in, and Logan out through the back door and into the gardens.

Eventually, you made it to your room and locked your door before moving over to the mirror. You did look flushed. Even more so when your brain projected the feeling of Logan’s hands on you from the night before, as well as the look on his face from thirty seconds ago.

By the time dinner rolled around, yourself and Logan tried to keep your distance until you both suddenly found yourself seated beside each other, taking one look at each other and then taking a large gulp of your drink.

Your main suspect for the forced seating arrangement was Rogue. She had been the one to lay out the cards. Three days previous, you were sure you had been sat beside her and Storm.

And when you looked over to her and found her smiling in your direction, you had your confirmed culprit.

For most of the night, you were kept distracted by the stories being told by everyone as you all caught up with one another from the past couple of months or so.

It was a few days until things felt normal between you and Logan. At least to the extent where you didn’t feel yourself visibly flush at the sight of him.

And everything seemed normal.

Until Saturday.

You had already left - Logan being the only one to know where you actually were heading off to.

“Okay, but Logan, you’re not allowed to get out of the car.” Rogue told him. “You’re just dropping me off. And you’re not allowed to come into the movie theatre, either.”

“What if I want to see a movie?”

“Not tonight, you’re not.” Rogue told him. “I like this guy, okay. And I think having The Wolverine sat behind us both isn’t going to make things easier.”

Logan sighed. “Okay, fine. I won’t come into the movie theatre.”

“Promise?”

Logan nodded, and crossed his heart. “Promise.”

“And you can’t send Y/n in, either.”

“Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. She’s busy.”

“Let me guess, on a date at the movie theatre?”

Logan held back his smirk. “No, smartass. She’s at a book club. But you can’t tell the others. She doesn’t want them to know.”

“Y/n’s part of a book club?”

Logan nodded and stifled a laugh as he flicked on his indicator and turned down a side street. “Yeah, it shocked me too.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be the mysterious husband they’re all talking about?”

As a red light came on, Logan slammed on his breaks a little too hard. “What? How would you know about-”

“Y/n took me to the library. There were a load of women looking at her. She was outside but when I asked her about it she said it was nothing. But I definitely heard them talking about her being married.”

Logan looked back to the road.

“Logan?”

“Yeah.”

“It's green.”

A car behind him honked and Logan quickly got moving, all the while feeling Rogue’s eyes on him.

“Oh, my god.” Rogue smiled and turned back to the road in disbelief.

“What?”

Logan was beginning to feel a little panicked. Though he didn’t quite know why.

“You are him.” Rogue stated. “Oh, my god. Is this what you meant by ‘learning your lesson’? Did something finally happen?”

Logan was confused. “Finally? What do you mean finally?”

“I mean finally.” Rogue repeated. “Jesus, Logan. Have you not seen the way you look at her? How she looks at you?”

“How she looks at me?” Logan questioned.

Since when did driving Rogue to her second date become a time for confessions?

“Hank was right, you both really are as bad as each other.”

Logan had to shake his head. “Wait, Hank? Beast Hank?”

Rogue could help but laugh.

For months Rogue had watched Logan and yourself get close to each other. She had to watch as the looks Logan gave you went from untrusted, to familiar, to friendly to…everything after the fact of trust. Not only could you see it in his eyes that he trusted you, but you could also see what he was too scared to admit to himself.

He was in love with you.

And had been for quite some time.

Of course, Rogue had only noticed this in the last couple of months.

Except, when talking with Hank as he cooked and she mostly watched and snacked on the parts he wasn’t using for the main meals, she realised it had been going on for years.

How you had looked at Logan. Intrigue, civil, uncharted, familiar, friendly, safe and,,,love.

And apparently Hank hadn’t been the only one in agony watching both of you. According to him, so were the rest of the team.

They were all just surprised nothing had actually happened yet.

“W-why are you laughing?” Logan’s gaze kept flicking from the passenger seat beside him to the road ahead until he finally pulled up outside the movie theatre.

“Because you’re both idiots.”

Logan didn’t look entirely amused. “Thanks, kid.”

“Look, I could tell you but…you need to work this one out for yourself. Thanks for dropping me off.”

As Rogue stepped out of the car, she closed the door and walked away. However, a few paces from the car she stopped and turned back around.

“Fuck it, I’m just gonna tell you.”

Leaning back inside the car, Logan looked back at her.

“You love her. And she loves you.” Rogue told him. “You’ve both loved each other for a long time and it’s about time you both do something about it before time passes and you’re both too chicken shit to do something about it. There is a reason everyone already thinks you're a couple, and that’s because when neither of you are thinking, you both act like it anyway. You should really see the way you look at each other, Lo. I hope I can find that some day, too. It’s rare. Don’t let it slip past you. Either of you.”

Rogue watched as Logan soaked in all of her words and then settled back behind the steering wheel.

Reaching into her bag, Rogue pulled out a book. “This was on the counter when I came downstairs.”

Logan took it from her. It was a new book. The new book you would be discussing about. Tonight.

“Figured she might need that. Maybe you can drop it off with her?”

Logan looked at Rogue and gave a smile. “Thanks, kid.”

Rogue shrugged. “Just mention me during your wedding speech.”

Shutting the car door, Rogue watched as Logan pulled out of his parking spot and drove down the street, turning the corner to head towards the address you had given him earlier that week.

“Just in case you or Rogue needs me.” You had told him.

Pulling up outside the house, KELLER written on the mailbox, Logan turned off the engine, took the book from the passenger seat and headed up the porch steps and knocked on the screen door.

From inside he heard laughing before a familiar face opened up the door.

“Oh, my. Logan, isn’t it?”

Logan nodded, trying his best to hide the flush on his cheeks. “Mrs Keller. I’m hoping Y/n is here. She left her book and I thought-”

Mrs Keller gave a wide smile and pushed open the screen door for him to come in. “Of course. The more the merrier. Your wife will be happy to see you, I’m sure. Follow me.”

As he did so, Logan soon found himself entering a second living room where around a dozen people were sitting in somewhat of a circle, either on the sofas or on the floor.

“Look who’s come for a surprise visit!” Mrs Keller announced.

Everyone turned with welcoming smiles and slightly shocked expressions.

“Logan.” You weren’t expecting to see him.

“Hey,” Logan breathed with a smile at seeing you. “Rogue. She picked up your book and I thought you might need it.”

You stood and took it from him softly. “Thanks.”

“Well, honey? Aren’t you going to give him a proper hello?”

Suddenly you and Logan felt a dozen pairs of eyes on you both and with a slight awkwardness, you leant up and kissed his cheek.

“Oh, come on. Girls, I tell you. Last week they were like two teenagers.”

You felt your cheeks go bright red and you hid your face with the cover of your book. The only comfort was Logan’s hand that hadn’t left your hip since you stepped into him to kiss his cheek.

“Oh, Logan, please. Will you stay?”

Logan looked around the room. It was the first time he understood the expression “Feeling like you were going to be eaten alive.”

“No, no. This is…your thing. I don’t want to intrude-”

“Nonsense! Besides, we’ve been dying to know more about our little mystery.” Mrs Keller said with nothing but affection.

“Who knew mystery could have so much romance?”

Logan turned to where the voice came from and by your reaction, he gauged the voice belonged to Prissy. Who’s name he would soon learn was Pricilla.

“I’d love to.” Logan replied, looking back to Mrs Keller.

“Wonderful!” She clapped her hands together and got comfortable in her chair. “Oh, Darwin, honey, come and sit by me so the lovebirds can sit together.”

The sofa in which Darwin had been sitting was as big as a seat and a half. So, when Logan did finally sit down, you were practically sitting on his lap, the only comfortable position you could find yourself in was tucked in by his side, your legs over his whilst his hand held your knees on his thighs.

Thankfully, your back was supported by the arm of the chair, but either way you felt yourself melt into Logan’s side, his body heat warming you. The fire Mrs Keller had on in the hearth was enough to heat the room but there was just something about Logan’s warmth that made it…different.

“Oh, you two just make the most adorable couple.” Mrs Keller smiled, watching the pair of you, noticing the smiles you gave each other as you both finally got comfortable in being so close to one another. “Like no one else is in the room.”

Logan heard Rogue’s words echo inside of his head.

She was right.

“Oh, you have to tell us how you met? Please.” Daisy asked from the floor beside the coffee table.

Prissy coughed. “Aren’t we more interested in discussing this week’s book?”

A chorus of “No” sounded out.

With a shlump, Prissy sat back with a noise stuck at the back of her throat.

“Oh, tell us how you met!” Darwin called out. “Start at the very beginning.”

“You know it’s gonna be a good story when they look at each other like that.” Daisy added on.

Prissy leaned forward. “You know, if you want a good love story, I can always tell you about how me and my darling husband met.”

Dawin groaned. Loudly. “We already know your story, Pricilla.”

“God knows we’ve heard it enough,” Mrs Keller mumbled.

“We want a new story and we want to hear about Y/n and Logan.”

You looked at Logan and Logan looked back. Something seemed different about him. It was almost like something was gleaming inside of him. You just couldn’t figure out what. Or why.

But you loved seeing a new side of him.

There was just something that made your stomach flip and your heart grow when Logan showed you another side of him. A side he didn’t let people see that often. Sometimes a side he wouldn’t let himself see.

“We met at work.” Logan told them.

“Yeah, he nearly bulldozed me in the Professor’s office.”

“I did not.”

“You did.” You countered. “I almost got a concussion from how hard you opened up that door.”

“You weren’t even near the door.”

“No, because I jumped out of the way when you did.”

Mrs Keller smiled. “Let me guess, you didn’t get off on the right foot?”

You shrugged. “Not particularly.”

“It took time…about six months before we had a real conversation. And even then it took time.”

Mrs Keller smiled with a knowing look. “The best ones always do.”

Over the next two hours, you and Logan were asked question after question. Most of them scolding you for not mentioning or bringing Logan to the book meetings sooner so they could all meet him.

Eventually, you did get onto the book you had all read. Prissy spent most of the time talking about the book and Logan got to witness first how she took the descriptions of a bird and placed the conversation back on her husband and what they had done during the week.

The first time, Logan could see it almost as sweet. After that it just got tedious.

But he couldn’t care. Not when he felt you fall into his side, allowing for his arm to come around your back, his hand fanned out across the exposed skin from your hip where your t-shirt had come untucked from your jeans.

As the fire in the hearth settled into a constant warmth, people started to get more relaxed and cosier, pulling up blankets, putting on Mrs Keller’s complimentary cosy socks.

Apparently she had a pair for everyone.

“Let me go and get some more snacks and then we can talk about chapter fifteen.” Mrs Keller gave a small gasp. “I didn’t see it coming.”

But you shot to your feet. “No, you sit down. Let me.”

“Oh, thank you, dear.”

Sitting back down, Logan stood with you and walked into the kitchen with you.

For a moment, you both talked about the book club and everything that had just happened before a comfortable lul came and you both realised you had to talk about the elephant in the room.

“We need to talk.” Logan told you.

“Do we?”

“Rogue told me something and it’s been on my mind ever since. And I can’t stop thinking how much she might be right.”

You poured some pretzels from the jar into a section of the dish. “Really? It must be bad if you’re agreeing with her.”

“Can you just…look at me for a second?”

You stopped pouring the snacks and looked at Logan, only for him to grab your hands and hold them in his. Running his thumbs over your knuckles, you forced yourself out of your thoughts and back to focusing on the real Logan in front of you.

“I think I’ve known it for a while, I just don’t think I’ve been able to let myself know it because, if I do…look, I’ve lost a lot of people.”

He was scaring you now.

“Logan, what’s going on?”

“I’ve lost a lot of people,” he finally looked you in the eye. “But I’ve come to realise you are not someone I can lose, Y/n. I don’t want to lose you. But if I don’t tell you something now, there might be a day when I could still lose you anyway.”

“Logan, you’re scaring me. Has something happened? What did Rogue say to you? I told you not to talk to her. That kid can be scary.”

Logan chuckled at that. It was true. Especially more recently. Very recently, in fact.

“I’m in love with you, Y/n.”

You felt yourself falter and stiffen at his words.

“You are the person I trust the most in this world, and I don’t say that lightly. I trust you and I love you. But I can’t lose you. So…” Logan took a breath. “Please tell me if I’m going to lose you because of this, because I don’t want to. I don’t want to ever lose you. Especially over something that I’ve done.”

“You…you love me?” You questioned. “Logan…how…when…Logan, you can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you…you just can’t.”

You were in shock and disbelief. “I’m not someone you fall in love with.”

“Little late for that.”

“I’m being serious.” Pulling your hands from his, you walked away for a second. You needed space. You needed to breathe. You needed…you needed…

“So am I.”

You couldn’t help but scoff. “Logan…I…you…we…we don’t…”

“We don’t…what?” Logan asked you.

“We don’t fit, Logan. We…we spent years building…us. Don’t you think that couples tend to know- if not instantly, a little sooner than us?”

“Y/n. I love you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I love you.”

Logan started walking closer to you, repeating his words with every step.

“Logan, you don’t.”

Taking you by the shoulders, he looked you in the eyes. “Yes, I do. And…I’d wager to say you feel the same, too.”

“Logan…”

“Just listen to me.” Logan begged. “Please.”

And so you did.

“Coming in here to tell you this? I didn’t expect you to tell me the same. I still don’t. I get you’re scared. Hell, I’m terrified. But the only thing that is keeping me from running out of that door is you. I know you, Y/n. And you know me, so when I stand here telling you that I love you, you know I’m not lying. You know that you are the only person I cannot lie to. I respect you too much to do that.”

Logan continued.

“But just now…you said ‘us’. And after what almost happened the other night and what happened in the kitchen with Hank…hell, even back there with the Town Gossip Board…”

Logan studied your face for a moment. You were fighting back tears, white knuckling the countertop beside you both.

“I can’t lose you, Y/n. So, please, tell me now. Just answer me this and if you want me to walk away I will. Do you love me?”

“Logan…”

Logan’s grip on you tightened for a moment as he bit his lip saying your name. He was desperate for an answer, wishing for you to say yes. For you to tell him not to walk away.

He couldn’t lose you…but maybe he already had.

“Please…” His voice broke. “Please.”

And then you broke.

“Of course I love you.”

Pulling him in by his collar, you held your other hand against his face before kissing him. It wasn’t soft or gentle. It was full of desperate and an outburst of emotion that you couldn’t put into words. You could only hope he knew what you meant by your kiss.

Almost instantly you felt his hands come to your waist before he pushed against you, kissing you back, allowing his arms to snake up and around your back, holding you flush against his chest. All the while, his lips caught yours once more after half a breath.

Your tears dried up and your hand fell to Logan’s side as he turned you, your ass bumping against the lower counter in the kitchen. A low groan came from the back of Logan’s throat as your hand dipped under his t-shirt and your fingers raked across his skin and up the side of his torso.

However, just as Logan was about to lift you onto the counter, you both heard a voice call out from the living room.

“Did you manage to find the pretzels? They’re in the cabinet above the stove!”

You and Logan pulled away, breathless. With his hands tangled in your hair and your forehead pressed against his, Logan forced a swallow, his cheeks heating as he smiled, still feeling your hand on his skin.

“Yeah, we’ve got em’!” Logan called out. “We’ll be there in a second.”

You let out a small laugh, as did Logan.

“How long have you got left here?”

You turned your head to look at the rustic clock above the kitchen dresser. “About an hour.”

“Make it 45?”

“50.” You gave it as an offer. “I still want to find out what they thought about Chapter twenty two.”

Almost out of arm's reach, Logan pulled you back. “Hey.”

“What?” You asked, allowing yourself to fall back into him.

Looking at you, Logan smiled before brushing the hair from your face and leaving you with a kiss that left you a little stunned and dizzy in the best way imaginable.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Wait.” Logan said once more, before pulling you back. You laughed a little.

“If we spend any more time in here, Mrs Keller is going to think we’re about to defile her kitchen.”

“We almost did,” Logan smirked watching your face heat before he started fixing your hair and your top.

And you did the same with him.

Finally walking back into the living room with the snacks, you and Logan sat back down together, your legs draped over his lap all the while your fingers subtly played with the ends of his hair, allowing your nails to run up and down the back of his neck every once in a while that had him shifting in his seat.

You were out of there within forty minutes.

But not before Mrs Keller gave Logan his own pair of cosy socks.

“Yellow and blue,” she told him. “For some reason, they speak to me. They’re yours. You’re an honorary member. Feel free to drop in any session. We’d love to hear more about you two.”

Both yourself and Logan smiled before walking back to the car where he opened up the door for you before walking around and getting into the driver's seat.

It took all of a month before everyone found out you and Logan had finally come together. Rogue and Hank seemed the most relieved that something had finally snapped between you two.

You both spent most mornings and nights tangled in each other’s arms, finally free to admit the truth to each other.

You had loved Logan for a long time. And he had loved you just as long.

Neither of you planned on stopping that any time soon.

2K notes · View notes

kathaelipwse · 2 months ago

Text

Mission: You || C. San

୨୧ Pairing: Choi San (ATEEZ) × Idol!Reader

𓂃🖊 Requested: Yes

𓂃🖊 Word Count: 7461 words | Reading Time: 27-ish mins

𓂃🖊 Trope: Variety Show Meet-Cute, Slow Burn to Lovers, Matchmade by Chaos

𓂃🖊 Warnings: Idolverse AU, Fluff overload, Minor angst, Secret dating, Mentions of illness (non-serious), NO PROOF READING WAS DONE.

❄ Synopsis:

What started as a chaotic duo challenge on Running Man turns into something no script could ever write. With linked hands and stolen glances, Reader falls first… but San falls harder. From dessert deliveries to whispered confessions, their love grows behind the scenes—until it’s ready for the spotlight.

❄ Author’s Note:

This fic is my love letter to slow burn softness, variety show chaos, and San being the literal blueprint for green-flag energy. If you're into lowkey lovers turned “forever” soulmates, this one’s for you ♡♡♡

It started, as most memorable things do, with utter pandemonium. Bright studio lights assaulted your eyes, a cacophony of blaring horns threatened to burst your eardrums, and the iconic chant of “Running Man!” echoed through the cavernous set, sending a familiar thrill-cum-nervousness down your spine. You weren’t a stranger to the world of variety shows, your years as a solo idol having thrown you into the deep end of unexpected situations more times than you could count. Yet, this felt different. Larger in scale, undeniably rowdier, and carrying an undercurrent of delightful risk that made your palms slightly sweaty.

As your gaze swept across the line-up of fellow guests and the ever-energetic Running Man regulars, a particular figure caught your attention. Choi San. Even amidst the vibrant chaos, he stood out, dressed in a deceptively simple black tee that showcased the lean lines of his muscles and practical cargo pants. His smile, however, was anything but simple – wide, genuine, and radiating a mischievous energy that suggested he was not just ready for this madness, but actively anticipating it.

“Alright, everyone!” Yoo Jaesuk’s booming voice cut through the lingering cheers, his signature glasses glinting under the studio lights. “Welcome, welcome! Today’s episode theme is—Running Man Match-Made Mission!” A collective murmur rippled through the guests. Jaesuk’s grin widened. “Each guest will be randomly paired with one of our regulars or idols for a full-on couples-themed challenge. And yes,” he emphasized, drawing out the word for dramatic effect, “you’re stuck together. All. Day. Long.”

Your stomach executed a nervous flip. The prospect of being tethered to a complete stranger, especially in this unpredictable environment, was both exciting and slightly terrifying.

Behind Jaesuk, a massive screen flickered to life, displaying flashy spinning wheels adorned with cheesy pink hearts and cartoon cupids. One by one, the pairings were announced, each reveal met with a unique blend of screams, cheers, and bewildered laughter. You held your breath, a strange mix of anticipation and apprehension swirling within you.

And then, the announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers once more: “Y/N and San!”

Your eyes widened. Before you could fully process the pairing, a figure was already moving towards you with that signature, captivating smirk playing on his lips. His dimples were deep parentheses framing his infectious grin, and the crinkles around his eyes hinted at a playful nature. You could practically see the word ‘trouble’ shimmering in the air around him.

“Guess you’re stuck with me,” he said, his voice a pleasant baritone as he extended a hand towards you. His fingers were long and slender.

You took it, your own hand feeling surprisingly small in his firm grip. “Let’s not lose.” The words came out with more conviction than you initially felt.

He tilted his head, his dark eyes studying you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “Confident. I like that.”

☾ First Mission: Water Balloon Relay – Hands Linked

The producers were clearly not ones for subtlety. The moment the first mission was announced, you understood the true meaning of “stuck together.” Your hands were literally tied together with a surprisingly sturdy rope, San’s fingers interlaced snugly with yours. The starting whistle blew, and you were off, sprinting across a treacherously slippery field, a fragile water balloon balanced precariously between your backs. The combined awkwardness of being physically connected and the inherent instability of the task led to immediate chaos.

“Left, left—no, your other left!” San shouted, his laughter echoing across the field as your synchronized movements devolved into a series of stumbles and near-falls.

“You’re the one dragging me!” you retorted, your own laughter bubbling up despite the precarious situation.

“Because you’re slow!” he teased, his grip on your hand tightening slightly as he tried to steer you.

“You’re a menace!”

“And you’re cute when you’re panicking,” he shot back, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You faltered for a split second, the unexpected compliment sending a wave of heat rushing to your cheeks. You quickly forced your focus back onto the wobbling water balloon, determined not to be the one to drop it. San’s grin widened. He had definitely noticed your reaction.

☾ Second Mission: Couple Obstacle Course

The obstacle course was a grueling test of teamwork and endurance. You crawled through muddy tunnels, balanced on wobbly beams, and navigated a series of increasingly ridiculous challenges. In between gasping for air, San surprised you with unexpected moments of consideration.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern as he noticed you panting heavily after scaling a particularly high wall.

“A little out of breath. I’ll live,” you managed to say, wiping a stray strand of hair from your sweaty forehead.

Without a word, he reached into the waistband of his cargo pants and pulled out a small, folded towel. Gently, he reached out and dabbed at the sweat on your forehead. “Can’t have my partner collapsing on me.”

You blinked at him, momentarily stunned by the unexpected gesture. “You’re… oddly gentle.” The playful image you had formed of him was slowly being chipped away by these surprising glimpses of a softer side.

He shrugged, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “I can be sweet. Don’t tell anyone. It ruins my image.”

☾ Final Mission: Name Tag Ripping – Lovers’ Edition

The final mission descended into pure, unadulterated chaos. The field became a whirlwind of flailing limbs, desperate grabs, and the distinct ripping sound of name tags being torn away. Betrayals were rampant, alliances were formed and broken in seconds, and shouts of frustration and triumph filled the air.

“Stick with me,” San said, his tone suddenly lower, the playful energy replaced by a focused intensity. He moved with a surprising agility, ducking and weaving through the throng of contestants. He instinctively pulled you behind him, your back pressed against his chest, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist. It was a surprisingly intimate position amidst the mayhem.

He was fast. Incredibly fast. With a series of swift movements, he managed to rip two name tags in under a minute, his eyes sharp and alert as he scanned the surroundings for new targets.

You tried to contribute, reaching out to grab at passing name tags, but every time someone got remotely close to you, San was already there, effectively using his body as a shield.

“Let me at least do one!” you huffed, feeling a surge of competitive spirit.

He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated against your back. “No way. You’re too pretty to get tackled.”

You rolled your eyes at the blatant flattery, but a warmth spread through your chest nonetheless. Your heart, you realized, was thudding at a rather alarming rate.

You and San didn’t emerge victorious, but as the exhausted contestants gathered backstage, the staff announced a special award: “Best Chemistry Award.” A collective cheer went up, and you couldn’t help but exchange a tired but genuine smile with San.

Backstage, sweaty and utterly drained, you found yourselves sitting side-by-side on a flimsy plastic bench. San nudged your shoulder with his, a comfortable silence settling between you.

“Today was fun,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse.

“Surprisingly,” you agreed, a genuine smile gracing your lips. “You’re not so bad.”

He leaned a little closer, his eyes sparkling with that familiar mischievous glint. “Give me your number. I might need a partner for a rematch.”

You raised a playful eyebrow. “Are you flirting with me, Choi San?”

“Only if it’s working, Y/N.” His gaze held yours, and for a fleeting moment, the boisterous energy of the studio faded away, leaving only the two of you.

You pulled out your phone and handed it to him. He meticulously typed in his number, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips as he handed it back.

That night, as you lay in bed, your muscles protesting with every movement and your cheeks still slightly sore from all the smiling, your phone buzzed with a new notification.

San: Can’t wait for Round 2.

A soft smile bloomed on your face. It seemed, just as you had suspected, that the initial chaos was only the beginning.

It started, predictably, with a healthy dose of self-deprecation disguised as humor.

The morning after the Running Man episode aired, your phone vibrated with a text from San. Attached was a photographic masterpiece – a gloriously blurred shot of him mid-air during the water balloon relay, his limbs resembling a startled octopus. The caption was pure Choi San gold:

“Pretty sure this is the textbook definition of ‘grace under pressure.’ Thoughts?”

A snort escaped you, quickly escalating into full-blown laughter that echoed in your quiet apartment. You immediately saved the image under the contact name you’d just re-created by changing from 'San(ateez)' to : “San (Chaos Coordinator).”

From then on, your phone became a conduit for playful banter. Texts arrived at irregular intervals, snippets of his day, random observations about the world, and, of course, plenty of teasing directed your way (and vice versa).

San [1:03 PM]: “Just saw a replay of me almost taking out Kwangsoo during the name tag ripping. My ninja skills are truly underrated. Also, still accepting bubble tea as a reward for my heroic efforts.”

You [1:04 PM]: “Heroic? You mostly used me as a human shield. And if anyone deserves bubble tea, it’s me, for surviving your… enthusiastic protection.”

San [1:05 PM]: “Enthusiastic is one word for it. Another is ‘strategically brilliant.’ And you were a very effective, albeit occasionally vocal, shield. Still cute though.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile playing on your lips despite yourself. He had a knack for delivering compliments wrapped in playful insults that somehow didn't feel offensive. It was infuriatingly charming.

The texting soon evolved into calls, initially under the guise of post-show analysis. You’d dissect the chaotic missions, reliving the funniest blunders and the most shocking betrayals. But as the days turned into nights, the calls stretched longer, the topics broadened, and the laughter softened into comfortable silences. You found yourselves sharing vulnerabilities you hadn’t intended to reveal, whispered secrets under the cloak of anonymity that the late hour provided.

“You know,” he said one night, his voice a low hum that sent a strange flutter through your stomach, “for someone who throws such sharp shade in texts, you’re surprisingly… easy to talk to.”

You mumbled into your pillow, a blush creeping up your neck. “Don’t say things like that. You’ll inflate your already massive ego.”

“My ego is perfectly calibrated, thank you very much. And besides,” he countered, a playful lilt in his voice, “is it really so surprising? Maybe you just secretly enjoy my captivating presence, even through the cold barrier of technology.”

“Captivatingly annoying, maybe,” you retorted, but the warmth in your tone betrayed your words.

“…Maybe,” he conceded, a chuckle rumbling through the phone. Then, a beat of silence before he added, softer now, “But maybe… more than that too.”

One particularly draining Tuesday left you feeling like a deflated balloon. The relentless pressure of your solo comeback had reached a fever pitch. Practice had stretched into the early hours, your usually patient choreographer had sighed audibly at your repeated mistakes, and the internet was buzzing with malicious rumors. You retreated into yourself, offering clipped responses to concerned messages from your team.

That evening, the insistent ring of your doorbell broke the silence of your apartment. Confused, you opened the door to find a familiar delivery bag sitting on the mat. Inside, nestled amongst ice packs, was a container of your emergency comfort food – the triple chocolate fudge brownie from your favorite cafe. Tucked beneath it was a small, handwritten note.

“Consider this a strategic energy boost. Don’t let the noise get to you. -S ☀️”

Your carefully constructed composure crumbled. The unexpected kindness, the quiet understanding, it was almost too much.

Your phone buzzed.

San: Heard it was a rough day. Remember that even soloists have a support system. And mine includes the right to send emergency brownies. You good?

You typed a quick, shaky “Yeah, thank you,” before a second message popped up.

San: Good. Now eat. And maybe watch that ridiculous cat video we were laughing about yesterday. Distraction is key.

You didn’t mean for this connection to burrow so deeply. You were fiercely independent, wary of letting anyone get too close, especially another idol who understood the chaotic demands of your life all too well. Yet, San’s open sincerity, his ability to seamlessly blend playful teasing with genuine care, was disarming. He could turn a simple check-in into a lifeline, a shared laugh into a moment of unexpected intimacy.

And you were falling.

Not in a dramatic, head-over-heels rush, but in a slow, steady descent, each shared joke and thoughtful gesture acting like another step down a slippery slope.

That night, a voice note arrived, his tone low and laced with a comforting weariness that mirrored your own.

“Just wanted to say… you’re doing amazing, Y/N. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Get some rest. Proud of your resilience.”

You replayed it, the warmth of his words a soothing balm on your frayed nerves.

Taking a leap of faith, you recorded a reply, your voice barely a whisper. “Thanks, San. You always know what to say. Sleep well.”

Before you could second-guess yourself, you hit send.

Five seconds later, a text popped up.

San: Just ‘San’ now? No more ‘Chaos Coordinator’? Am I losing my edge? 😉

You smiled into the darkness.

You: Only if you stop sending me blurry selfies and emergency brownies.

Another text arrived almost instantly.

San: Deal. But only if you promise to laugh at my questionable dance moves next time we meet.

You: Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Sannie.

The nickname slipped out effortlessly, a comfortable familiarity settling between you.

San: Sannie, huh? I like the sound of that.

And just like that, the playful jabs and late-night confessions had woven a thread between you, something far more intricate and potentially significant than a fleeting variety show partnership. The teasing hadn’t just been fun; it had been a subtle dance, a way of testing the waters, of building a connection that now felt undeniably real. The chaos of Running Man had faded, but the delightful, unpredictable chaos of your burgeoning relationship with Choi San was just beginning to unfold.

It began with the ephemeral intimacy of voice notes. Short, breathy messages sent and received in the dead of night, carrying the weight of unspoken feelings. Then came the hushed phone calls, a fragile thread connecting your separate worlds after the relentless demands of your schedules.

Soft, late-night whispers became your sanctuary. Stripped of the usual idol facade, there were no filters, no carefully constructed personas. Just sleepy confessions murmured under the covers, punctuated by shy laughter that felt stolen from the quiet hours when the rest of the world slept.

“Are you still awake?” he’d ask, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through your phone and settled in your chest.

“Only because I’m talking to you,” you’d whisper back, the truth of your words surprising even yourself.

Somewhere between the clock striking 1 AM and the first hint of dawn painting the sky, the two of you carved out your own secret universe. It existed within the fragile signals of your phones, in the comfortable silences that spoke volumes, and in the unspoken space that hung heavy with a feeling neither of you dared to fully acknowledge.

Soon, the digital connection wasn't enough. The yearning for something tangible grew, a quiet ache that mirrored the exhaustion of your demanding lives. You started sneaking out.

Under the cloak of darkness, after grueling schedules and the watchful eyes of your teams, you’d orchestrate brief, clandestine meetings. Sometimes it was in the anonymity of his parked car, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. Other times, it was on a quiet rooftop, the city lights twinkling below like a silent audience to your unspoken connection. There were no cameras flashing, no stylists fussing, no managers hovering. Just him, often in comfortable sweatpants and a worn hoodie, his arms opening for you like he’d been waiting all day for that single embrace.

You didn’t talk much during those precious stolen moments. Sometimes, he’d simply pull you close, the solid warmth of his chest a grounding force against the constant whirlwind of your life. He’d rest his chin on your shoulder, swaying you gently in a silent rhythm as the city hummed its endless lullaby below.

“This,” he said once, his voice a low murmur against your ear, “this is my favorite part of the day.”

You didn't need to reply. His embrace said everything, and the quiet contentment that settled over you in his arms was an answer in itself.

Seven months passed in this delicate dance of stolen moments and whispered affections. Then, the calls stopped. A day of silence stretched into two, an unnerving void in your routine. A knot of anxiety tightened in your stomach with each unanswered text.

Finally, desperation overriding your usual caution, you called his manager, your voice tight with forced casualness. That’s when you found out.

San was sick. Really sick. He’d been pushing himself relentlessly, fueled by the demands of his own packed schedule, skipping meals, ignoring persistent coughs and fatigue, and working through sheer exhaustion – a tragically familiar pattern in the idol world. But hearing it, knowing he was suffering alone, ignited a fierce protectiveness within you, bordering on anger.

You stormed into his dorm the next morning, a container of steaming soup clutched in your hand, your carefully constructed composure barely containing the storm of worry and frustration brewing inside you.

“I’m fine,” he croaked, his voice hoarse but a familiar teasing glint flickering in his tired eyes. He was pale, shadows under his eyes stark against his skin.

“You’re not fine. You look like a ghost who hasn’t slept in a week.” You placed the soup on his bedside table, your concern overriding your annoyance.

“You nag more than my manager,” he joked weakly, attempting a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

But the moment your hand instinctively reached out to touch his forehead, your brow furrowing in concern at the heat radiating from his skin, his playful facade crumbled. His eyes softened, a vulnerability you rarely saw in their depths surfacing.

“I like it though,” he whispered, his gaze fixed on your hand. “Your nagging, I mean.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to maintain your stern demeanor, but the corners of your lips twitched. You found a spoon in his cluttered kitchenette and began to gently feed him the soup you’d painstakingly made yourself – the same simple chicken and vegetable recipe your mother used to make when you were little and under the weather.

“You really didn’t have to do all this,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

“Yes, I did.” The words were firm, leaving no room for argument.

He paused, watching you intently as you carefully brought another spoonful to his lips. “Why?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. Your heart pounded against your ribs. The answer was right there, clawing at your throat, desperate to be voiced.

Because I love you, you ridiculous, hardworking idiot.

Because being near you feels like finally coming home after a long journey.

Because the thought of you being sick and alone terrifies me more than any headline or scandal ever could.

But instead, your gaze flickered away, settling on the messy stack of books beside his bed. “No reason.” The lie felt heavy on your tongue.

He didn’t press, his gaze lingering on your averted face for a moment before his hand found yours on the blanket, his fingers wrapping around yours, warm and surprisingly steady despite his illness.

That night, you stayed. You sat beside his bed, watching his shallow breaths as he finally succumbed to sleep, his hair damp with sweat and stuck to his forehead. His grip on your hand remained unbroken, a silent anchor in the quiet room. It was in that stillness, watching his vulnerable form, that the undeniable truth solidified within you.

You didn’t just like Choi San. This went far beyond the playful banter and stolen kisses. You needed him, in a way that both terrified and exhilarated you. His well-being felt intrinsically linked to your own happiness.

And maybe, just maybe, the fragile vulnerability he’d shown you hinted that he needed you too.

But the weight of your intertwined careers, the potential fallout of a public relationship, pressed down on you, a suffocating reality. You couldn’t confess these burgeoning feelings, not yet, not when the stakes felt impossibly high. A love like this could shatter the carefully constructed worlds you had both fought so hard to build.

So instead, you leaned closer, your lips brushing against his forehead in a silent, chaste promise. “Sleep well, Sannie.”

And in the quiet darkness of his room, you hoped, with every fiber of your being, that he could somehow hear the unspoken “I love you” tucked between the silence and the gentle rhythm of his breathing.

The aftermath of San’s illness lingered like a comfortable silence. He had recovered physically, bouncing back with his usual boundless energy on stage and screen. But something had shifted beneath the surface. He was undeniably, irrevocably smitten. It was evident in the way his eyes lingered on you during your rare joint appearances, in the extra beat of hesitation before he spoke your name, even in the ridiculously lovesick emojis he’d occasionally slip into your late-night texts.

Of course, being Choi San, this newfound infatuation didn’t magically erase his inherent need to tease. If anything, it fueled it.

“Still haven’t replaced that lock screen of the puppy that looks suspiciously like Hongjoong with a picture of your infinitely more handsome variety show partner?” he’d smirk over a crackly FaceTime connection, his brow arched in playful challenge.

“For the tenth time, it’s a husky, and I never said it looked like—”

“The resemblance is uncanny. And your silence speaks volumes, Y/N-ssi. Volumes of unspoken admiration.”

“You’re incorrigible.” You rolled your eyes, a well-practiced maneuver by now.

“Incorrigibly charming, you mean.” His grin widened, showcasing those dimples that still had the power to make your stomach do a little flip.

But the teasing was a two-way street now, a comfortable dance of playful jabs and knowing glances. You found yourself emboldened, the walls you’d carefully constructed slowly crumbling under the weight of your growing feelings.

“You sure you’re not catching feelings, Choi San?” you’d ask casually during a brief backstage encounter, feigning nonchalance as you adjusted your microphone.

He’d lean in close, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “Honey, I already caught them. You’re the one who’s been clearly infected with ‘San-itis’ for months.”

“‘San-itis’? Seriously?” You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of your lips.

“It’s a highly contagious condition characterized by excessive smiling at my photos and an undeniable urge to hear my voice at all hours. Sound familiar, babe?”

The casual endearment made your heart skip a beat. “Babe? That’s new.”

He’d feign innocence, his eyes wide. “Slip of the tongue. My bad.”

“Say it again.” You challenged, meeting his gaze directly.

He’d chuckle, shaking his head. “Nope. Gotta keep you on your toes.”

“Coward,” you’d whisper, a playful smirk of your own.

Then came the unexpected gift of a free Sunday. A rare oasis in the desert of your schedules. No early morning shoots, no grueling dance practices, no blinding spotlight. Just the quiet promise of a day to yourself. You hadn’t seen San in what felt like an eternity (weeks just weeks), the demands of your respective comebacks keeping you frustratingly apart.

A sudden knock on your door startled you from your lazy morning routine. You peeked through the peephole and your breath hitched. There he was. Choi San. In faded black sweats and a familiar grey hoodie, his usually meticulously styled hair adorably messy, and that lazy, heart-stopping smile gracing his lips.

You couldn’t even pretend to be unaffected. The sight of him, so unexpectedly casual and real on your doorstep, sent a wave of longing crashing over you. Your heart ached with a tenderness you could no longer ignore.

“Movie?” he offered, holding up a small, hopeful smile.

“Only if you bring popcorn,” you managed to say, your voice betraying the tremor of your emotions.

“Already in my trusty backpack, right next to my extensive knowledge of cinematic masterpieces. A true romantic, wouldn’t you agree?” He winked, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

He flopped onto your couch with his usual unceremonious grace, kicking his feet up onto your coffee table and casually throwing an arm over the backrest behind you, his fingers dangerously close to your hair. You tried, with every fiber of your being, to focus on the movie you’d selected. You really, truly did.

But the subtle brush of his thigh against yours sent jolts of electricity through you. The way his fingers occasionally toyed with the soft fabric of your sleeve was a tantalizing distraction. And the simple, undeniable fact of his presence beside you, a calming anchor in the often-turbulent sea of your thoughts, was almost unbearable in its intensity.

The carefully constructed dam of your unspoken feelings finally broke. The words tumbled out, a rush of vulnerability you couldn’t contain any longer.

“I love you. A lot. Maybe… maybe too much.”

The movie paused mid-explosion. San blinked, his playful expression instantly wiped clean, replaced by a look of intense focus. He stared at you for a long moment, his dark eyes searching yours.

Then, impossibly, his lips curved into that infuriatingly smug smirk again, but this time, it was softer, edged with something akin to relief.

“Wow,” he said, a low chuckle escaping his lips. “Beat me to it.”

You stared at him in a mixture of disbelief and horror. “Are you serious right now? You’ve been teasing me for weeks!”

He laughed, a full, warm sound that resonated deep within you, chasing away the last vestiges of your anxiety. And then, he reached for you, pulling you straight into his chest, his arms wrapping around you with a fierce tenderness, as if he’d been waiting an eternity to hold you this close.

“Y/N,” he murmured into your hair, his breath warm against your scalp. “I’ve been yours since day one. That chaotic mess on Running Man? Yeah, that’s when you got me.”

You melted into him, your hands clutching at the soft fabric of his hoodie, your heart racing in sync with his against your ear. You tilted your head back, your gaze meeting his, and then, acting on an impulse you no longer felt the need to resist, you pressed a soft, reverent kiss to his jawline.

He turned his head just slightly, his eyes never leaving yours, and then his lips found yours. The kiss was slow, hesitant at first, a gentle exploration. It was careful, like you both understood that this moment was a precipice, a point of no return after which your worlds would be irrevocably intertwined. And you didn’t want it any other way.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and your foreheads touching, you whispered against his cheek, the vulnerability raw and exposed.

“Don’t let go.”

San didn’t even hesitate. His arms tightened around you, his voice a low, unwavering promise against your ear.

“Never.”

The weeks that followed that whispered confession on your couch unfolded in a soft, almost dreamlike haze. Promises exchanged in hushed tones hung in the air, more binding than any contract. His kiss, tentative yet sure, had indeed turned your world inside out, leaving you breathless and wanting more. And in the quiet aftermath, you had both admitted the truth that had been simmering beneath the surface for months, the one thing that held the power to both elevate and shatter your carefully constructed lives:

You were undeniably, irrevocably in love.

But a love like yours, two prominent figures in the relentless world of K-pop, didn’t neatly fit into meticulously planned press schedules or precisely choreographed dance formations. It was a fragile bloom that needed to be shielded, tucked away from the harsh glare of public scrutiny, hidden behind hurried corners and the anonymity of zipped-up hoodies pulled low over your faces.

So, you dated quietly, your love story unfolding in stolen moments and hushed whispers. Only a select few were privy to your secret.

His members, surprisingly, had caught on with an almost unnerving speed. They’d exchanged knowing glances during your joint appearances, nudging each other when San’s gaze lingered on you for too long, and offering thinly veiled teasing about his sudden “variety show glow.”

“Hyung’s been staring at his phone like it’s the eighth wonder of the world,” Jongho had Stage whispered to Yunho during a music show rehearsal, earning a playful shove from San, who was indeed re-reading your latest text with a goofy grin plastered across his face.

Your closest friends, on the other hand, reacted with unrestrained glee the moment you finally confessed. There were squeals of delight, emphatic “I knew it!” declarations, and an abundance of celebratory emojis flooding your group chat.

“About damn time,” Wooyoung had muttered dramatically during one of ATEEZ’s rehearsals, rolling his eyes with mock exasperation as he watched San practically melt into a puddle of adoration every time your name was mentioned. “Seriously, the tension was thicker than Hongjoong-hyung’s eyeliner.” (sorry- I had to)

Your moments together were precious, stolen fragments of time carved out from your demanding schedules. Stolen glances exchanged from across crowded rooms during music show shoots, a silent language passing between you amidst the noise and flashing lights. His hand brushing deliberately against yours under the table during joint interviews, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt of warmth through you. Late-night voice notes, his voice thick with sleep and laced with a soft “I miss you” that made your heart ache in the best possible way. Kisses snatched in the relative anonymity of deserted car parks – short, sweet, and breathless promises of more to come.

You even got matching phone charms, a small, tangible symbol of your secret connection. His was a tiny, cheerful sun. Yours, a delicate silver cloud with a tiny, mischievous lightning bolt.

“Weather opposites,” he’d teased, looping your charms together with a playful wink. “But always stuck side by side, weathering the storm together.”

San was fiercely devoted. No matter where his relentless schedule took him – across the country for a festival, overseas for a concert tour – he always answered your calls, his voice a familiar comfort across the miles. He curated playlists filled with songs that reminded him of you, sending them with heartfelt messages about lyrics that echoed your shared moments. He’d even orchestrate surprise drop-bys, sometimes just for a fleeting five minutes, just to hold your hand, look you in the eyes, and whisper, “You’re doing amazing. Just wanted you to know.”

And when the weight of his demanding life pressed down on him, when the relentless spotlight burned too bright and the pressure threatened to suffocate him, you knew how to break through the carefully constructed idol facade. You made him laugh. Really laugh. Loud, full, head-thrown-back laughter that crinkled the corners of his eyes and chased away the shadows.

“You’re magic,” he told you once, his voice husky with emotion after a particularly stressful day you’d managed to alleviate with a ridiculous string of animal memes and silly impressions.

Eventually, the constant need for secrecy began to wear on both of you. It wasn’t about craving the validation of a public announcement, although that thought lingered in the back of your minds. It was about the quiet exhaustion of constantly hiding a fundamental part of yourselves, of pretending that the most significant person in your life was just a friend, a colleague. It was about wanting to simply be yourselves, together, without the constant fear of discovery. It was about owning your truth, choosing each other openly, even if it meant facing the inevitable scrutiny.

So, one quiet afternoon, curled up on his comfortable couch, the sunlight streaming through the window casting a soft glow on his relaxed features, you made a decision. You reached for your phone, snapped a soft selfie – you nestled in his familiar black hoodie, his cheek pressed gently against your temple, both of you wearing the unguarded smiles that bloomed only when you were together.

The caption was simple, a quiet nod to the beginning of your story:

“My lucky mission partner 💫”

Within minutes, the internet exploded. Notifications flooded your phone, a tidal wave of comments, shares, and frantic messages. Fans flooded the comments section with a mix of shock, speculation, and surprisingly, a significant amount of heartfelt support. The Running Man cast group chat lit up with a flurry of congratulatory (and teasing) texts. His members started yelling excitedly in their own chaotic group chat, a string of celebratory emojis accompanying their bewildered questions.

But you? You simply looked up at him, your heart overflowing with a quiet joy. He met your gaze, a soft understanding passing between you, and then he leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Now,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver of happiness through you, “the whole world knows I’m yours.”

Months had spun by in a blissful blur since that public declaration of your relationship. The initial storm of media attention had gradually subsided, replaced by a wave of overwhelming support from fans who had witnessed your connection blossom from that first chaotic episode of Running Man. And now, in a delightful twist of fate, you found yourselves back where it all began.

Stepping onto the familiar Running Man set, this time hand-in-hand and undeniably, officially a couple, felt surreal. The moment you two walked through the entrance, the cast erupted into a cacophony of disbelief and celebratory shouts.

“WAIT—NO WAY!” Kwangsoo’s jaw practically hit the floor, his eyes wide with comical shock.

“WE DID THIS!!” HaHa jumped up and down, pointing between the two of you with triumphant glee.

“THE POWER OF RUNNING MAN LOVE IS REAL!!” Song Jihyo exclaimed, a rare and genuine smile gracing her usually stoic face.

“SOMEONE ROLL THE FOOTAGE! WE NEED A MONTAGE!” Yoo Jaesuk bellowed, his arms flailing dramatically.

And cue the dramatic flashback. The giant screen behind you flickered to life, showcasing a hilarious and heartwarming montage of your first episode together – the awkwardness of the handcuffs, the playful bickering during the water balloon relay, San’s surprisingly protective stance during the name-tag ripping, the stolen glances, the undeniable spark that had flickered between you amidst the chaos.

Suddenly, everyone wanted to take credit for your relationship.

Ji Sukjin, with his characteristic bluster, insisted he was the one who “saw it first,” recalling some vague comment he’d made about your “potential” during a break.

HaHa swore up and down that he’d subtly advised San to text you after the show, embellishing the story with dramatic hand gestures and exaggerated winks.

And Yoo Jaesuk, ever the master of ceremonies, simply pointed at the two of you with a smug grin and yelled, “You’re welcome, Korea! Running Man: Bringing hearts together, one ridiculous mission at a time!”

The games commenced, a nostalgic echo of your first encounter. The producers, clearly capitalizing on the full-circle moment, resurrected familiar couple-style missions: a slippery obstacle course that had you clinging to each other for dear life, a trivia battle where your combined knowledge (and strategic whispering) proved surprisingly effective, and of course, the iconic name-tag ripping war – now imbued with a whole new level of playful tension.

San still pretended to be your fierce rival, playing up the competitiveness for the cameras with exaggerated growls and mock threats. But this time, he didn’t even bother to convincingly hide the way he deliberately slowed down, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he let you snatch his name tag (again).

You playfully smacked his shoulder, a wide grin on your own face. “You let me rip it off again! You’re supposed to be trying!”

He just grinned back, that infuriatingly charming dimple on full display. “You looked way too happy to ruin the moment. Besides…” he leaned in close, whispering into your ear, just loud enough for the mic to pick up, “I’m whipped. What do you want me to do?”

The rest of the cast groaned and playfully jeered at your blatant affection.

“Is this Running Man or Running Romance?!” Kwangsoo wailed, clutching his chest dramatically.

“Can we get a spinoff show just for them? ‘Running in Love’?” Somin suggested, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Y’all are making us single people suffer!” Jongkook grumbled, though even he couldn’t suppress a small smile.

During the interview segments, you found yourself instinctively leaning into his side, a comfortable habit formed over months of quiet intimacy. He’d gently adjust your microphone, his touch lingering for a fleeting moment, a silent reassurance under the watchful eyes of the cameras. You both wore matching smiles, a radiant glow of happiness that seemed to emanate from within, creating your own little world amidst the usual Running Man chaos.

The viewer comments online exploded once again, this time with an overwhelming wave of adoration and heart emojis.

Fan 1: “THE CHEMISTRY IS INSANE. They’re even more in love now, it’s beautiful!”

Fan 2: “They look so effortlessly happy together, it actually makes my heart ache with secondhand joy.”

Fan 3: “I’M CRYING OVER THIS REUNION OMG. My original Running Man ship has sailed and reached the cutest destination!”

Then, as the episode drew to a close, Yoo Jaesuk, ever the master of the unexpected, cleared his throat with a dramatic flourish, his eyebrow raised in that signature mischievous way.

“So…” he began, his gaze sweeping between the two of you, a pregnant pause hanging in the air. “Now that we’ve witnessed the full circle of your Running Man romance… should we be expecting a wedding special anytime soon?”

The entire room fell silent, all eyes fixed on you and San. The usual boisterous energy of the set seemed to hold its breath.

San blinked, a slow, thoughtful smile spreading across his face. He turned slightly, looking directly into the camera, his gaze steady and sincere.

“Ask me again in a few years,” he said, his voice a low, confident murmur.

Cue:

The cast erupting into another round of excited screams and playful teasing.

You grinning, a blush creeping up your neck as you playfully nudged his side.

San throwing a protective arm around your shoulders, his laughter echoing through the studio as you simply leaned into his embrace, content in the warmth of his smile and the irresistible charm of his dimples.

And the screen faded to black, leaving viewers with a tantalizing question mark hanging in the air:

“TO BE CONTINUED?”

Three years had painted a rich tapestry onto the foundation laid in that chaotic studio. Three years of stolen kisses squeezed between the relentless demands of your schedules. Three years of sleepy morning voice notes that chased away the lingering darkness and midnight giggles shared like precious secrets. Three years of stolen glances across crowded award show venues, of shared playlists that spoke a language only you understood, of secret codes whispered into the phone, and quiet promises murmured under starry skies.

It wasn’t a fleeting infatuation anymore. It was real. Solid as the intertwined fingers resting on the console between you. Soft as the comfortable silences that settled between you. Steady as the unwavering beat of your hearts when you were near.

And today, as the sun began its slow descent towards the horizon, it felt as though the universe itself had decided to pause, to hold its breath just for the two of you.

You and San were parked in his car near the coast, the sky a breathtaking canvas dipped in sherbet hues of orange, pink, and lavender, the sun melting gently into the vast expanse of the sea. There were no flashing cameras, no bustling idol chaos, no ever-present entourage. Just two souls in a car, fingers interlaced, the soft melody of a shared favorite song drifting from the speakers, and hearts brimming with a love that had weathered every storm.

You leaned against the cool leather of the passenger seat, your voice quiet as you gazed at the mesmerizing sunset. “Isn’t it wild?”

He chuckled softly beside you, his thumb brushing gentle circles on the back of your hand. “One silly mission… and here we are.”

“You mean the mission where you tried to drown me with strategically aimed water balloons and shrieked every time I got within a five-foot radius?” you teased, a fond smile gracing your lips.

He shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. “Hey, I was in character. Besides, you wiped my sweat like a pro and… I distinctly remember letting you win that last name tag battle.”

You laughed, the sound light and airy in the quiet car. “You let me? You were practically running in slow motion!”

He shrugged again, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “You looked cute when you were determined.”

You turned to face him fully, your eyes shining with a depth that went far beyond nostalgic reminiscing. “Thank you, San. For always showing up for me, even when it felt impossible. For always… choosing me, amidst all the noise.”

San’s gaze held yours, a warmth radiating from his dark eyes that made you feel like you held the entire universe within your embrace. He reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his hand then cupping your cheek with a tenderness that still made your heart flutter after all this time.

“You were the best thing I never planned for, Y/N-ah,” he murmured, his thumb stroking your cheek softly.

“The best plot twist in my entire story,” you echoed, leaning into his touch.

The gentle sea breeze carried his next words like a precious secret, whispered into the fading light. “I’ve been thinking…”

He paused, his gaze dropping to your intertwined hands before meeting your eyes again, a newfound seriousness in their depths. “Long-term. You and me. Forever kind of things.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, a wave of emotion washing over you. He leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours, his warm breath feathering against your lips.

“You sure?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “You know all my embarrassing habits now. The way I steal the covers, my questionable singing in the shower…”

He grinned, that familiar, heart-melting dimple appearing. “And I snore, remember? Loudly. Enough to rival a small engine.”

You chuckled, a genuine, happy sound. “I’ll take your snoring over silence any day, Choi San.”

As the last sliver of the sun kissed the horizon, painting the sky in the deep, velvety hues of dusk, his hands moved from your face, gently framing it as he leaned in to kiss you. The kiss was soft and tender, a silent promise of forever. Then, with a careful and loving motion, he shifted you from the passenger seat, drawing you onto his lap, your legs straddling his as the kiss deepened, a sweet and intimate moment shared in the quiet sanctuary of the car.

Pulling back slightly, his voice, low and steady, he said:

“Running Man was the mission.”

His eyes, filled with a love that transcended the chaos and the fame, held yours captive across the close confines of the car.

“You were always the prize.”

THE END.

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kyri45 · 4 months ago

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Kyri!!

I am fucking vibrating!

In my FanFic serious The Westward Sun.

(Still a WIP so it's not posted)

MK finds out he's Macaque and Wukong's son by, and lets run through the list here:

1: accidentally manipulating his shadow, 2: finding a second pair of ears while washing dust out of his mane after training his monkey form, and 3: realising that practically speed running through the training that THE Sun Wukong spent literal years learning isn't really possible if you don't already possess the magic.

So he confronts Nüwa.

(Haven't figured out how, again, still a WIP)

And, after quite literally screaming at her for answers, she goes on to explain the nature of Order and Chaos.

(Because he definitely needs a culture/ history lesson whilst in the middle of an existential crisis.)

One can not exist without the other.

To have true Chaos, you must maintain a semblance Order. To have true Order, you must maintain a semblance of Chaos.

There must be a Method to the Madness and a sense of Madness within the Method.

It's the Balance of the Universe, so to speak.

So, to create a true Harbinger of Chaos. She'd have to combine the two elements of that balance.

The nature of Order and Chaos is:

Energetic and Calm.

Impulsive and Rational.

Open and Reserved.

Bold and Soft.

Careless and Cautious.

Optimistic and Pessimistic.

Abrasive and Gentle.

Like the Sun and the Moon

Now, after that explaination, MK points out that, since she doesn't need exsisting life to make new life, she easily could've done all of that combining the elements thing without actually using the energies of two monkey men with the biggest "divorced couple" vibe in the Universe.

So why?

(Actual exerpt from the chapter below)

~~~

She hummed at the question, raising a hand and tapping at her chin, just under her bottom lip, with her index knuckle as a thoughtful expression graced her face. Her eyes, curious and gentle, examined the little monkey before her, studying him in a way that, for some fucking reason entirely unbeknownst to him, could only be described as sympathetic.

After what seemed like years, her eyebrows flew to the nonexistent ceiling above them, as if she had reqched an unexpected epiphany. Eventually, a chuckle left her, followed by another, then another, and more until Nüwa's voice had disolved into pleasant laughter. It was warm and sweet, wafting through the empty air like the scent of fresh bread.

MK felt his shoulders relax, feeling at ease with the sudden change in atmosphere as the Goddess' laughter increased, every giggle and snort bouncing against the nonexistent walls surrounding them.

"You know-" She paused, allowing a bubble of laughter to pass her lips "-it's the funniest thing!" Another giggle.

She placed a hand on her chest, smiling at him.

"I... I don't really know myself!" She didn't even try to bite back the giggle escaping her, eyes once again studying him, this time with care.

"It just felt right."

Mk went to respond, mouth opening and closing in confusion, like a fish.

Only to find himself back in his room in the blink of an eye.

Literally.

"Holy shit... Mei's gonna flip."

~~~

I've been working on The Westward Sun ever since S3 came out and did a whole lot of rewriting after S4 & 5, so I was super proud of that idea.

And then I got distracted, and a little overwhelmed, and worried that it might've been a bit of a stretch.

You have no fucking idea how excited I got when reading this and the previous chapter! I was vibrating!

Like:

"Yes! I'm not the only one who had this idea! It's not as far-fetched as I was worrying it was! I'm so fucking excited!"

And now here I am.

Also, just reading the comic has helped me improve my drawing skills. Do you have any idea how easy it is to draw clothing wrinkles now? I used to have so much trouble getting wrinkles to look nice, and failing because they ended looking too detailed, then I experimented with the way you draw them (which I assume is roughly inspired by Studio Ghibli films)

And it's fucking easy now!?

You're a beautiful human being.

Have a nice day.

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

This is an absolutely beautiful explaination on how Chaos can work!! I wanna steal that (joking, I wont of course) but I'll definetely tag you and link this post if anyone ask me how chaos magic work because you describe it beautifully!

#shadowpeach bio parents au #ask box

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 9 months ago

Text

Wouldn't you like to see something strange?

HI I know the new Halloween character isn't out yet but I needed an outlet for my excitement (Yes, I am unfortunately a Nightmare Before Christmas girlie) 💀 so please be advised that he may not be in character here, I'm just writing based on vibes! This is technically a twisted!Jack Skellington x Reader fic, but the Reader is basically playing a role similar as Sally from the film.

P.S. I want everyone to know that I busted out my drawing tablet to make this special border for him the same day he was first announced... Yeah...

Boo.

On the nights with full moons, he liked to steal away to the Spiral Hill on the outskirts of town.

The outcrop of land overlooked a vast graveyard and field laden with pumpkins, perfuming the air with the crisp sweetness characteristic of autumn. Beyond it, uncharted territory. When he squinted into the darkness, he could make out the vague shapes of naked trees, their gnarled branches like fingers beckoning him to approach, whispering his name.

He draped his long, lithe legs over the hill, letting them hang in the frigid air. Spindly as he was, the wind easily blew them, knocking his legs around like the straw-stuffed limbs of a scarecrow. He kicked with the breeze, carefree as a child on a playground swing.

The moon stitched his pinstriped suit and tattered cravat with silver thread, touched his pointed crown at its highest points. Even the white ribbons ribbing his jacket and the pattern of bones tugged over his gloves seemed to glow under the celestial light. He liked the view, and the view seemed to like him, too.

Held in his skeletal hand was a single flower. He stroked a silken petal, then slipped another finger under it, plucking the petal free. The wind claimed it, setting it sailing off into the unknown.

He continued. A second, a third. So on and so forth, until the flower was left stripped down and barren, even robbed of its leaves.

He dropped the stem off the hill. The pumpkins below consumed it, and the once lovely flower’s body became one with the patch.

"I figured this is where you were."

He lowered his dark circular lenses. His bright eyes slid to the figure that had approached from behind, on feet so swift they hardly made a sound. They came in with the sweetness of deadly nightshade, the trace of a poisoning committed at midnight. "Not a lethal dose, just enough to knock the doctor out for a few hours," as they always said. "How else would I sneak out to see you?"

Dry, ghostly lips dashed with hatch marks pried into an open smile, both teeth and the gaps between them. Charming, in a crooked sort of way. "My dear. You've come."

You bent down. “If you don't mind, I'd like to join.”

“The spot beside me is always reserved for you.” He patted it, inviting you to take a seat.

"Such a gentleman." You sunk down, folding your hands in your lap. "And so handsome when you're brooding. You're terribly good at that."

He was, he was, especially silhouetted by the moon. The man was practically monochrome, but bathed in silver like this, his pale skin was less sickly and more ethereal. He almost appeared like a cruel angel in the light, descending to expunge evil.

"I'm not brooding," he pouted, "I'm dreaming."

“Dreaming." You reached out and tucked a strand of alabaster hair behind his ear. "Father says it’s a ridiculous, wild thing.”

"Ah, but that's what makes it so much thrilling. Life’s no fun without a good scare.”

His mouth quirked to one side, and his smile became off-kilter--as his ideas often were. "He'll bring us to ruin with his crazy, new-fangled thinking and flights of fancy," your father would complain. But you adored that about the boy. How spontaneous he was, how his curiosity was never-ending. He'd race about like a child, picking items up and sticking his face where it probably shouldn't go.

Full of life in this otherwise lifeless town.

"What's this? What's this?" he'd say. "I must know!"

"He's gone daffy," your father would declare.

"Mmm." You nodded absentmindedly, tracing your fingers along the shell of his ear and down to his arm. "What were you dreaming about today?"

He lifted his head, looking beyond the hill and to the woods. Not a word was exchanged. None had to be.

"The Hinterlands?" you whispered. "But we don't know what's out there. No ghoul or monster has ever ventured out that far."

"Then sounds like I'll be the first! They’ll put me down in the history books as a pioneer." His laughter brightened up the gloomy night. When he quieted, his gaze was solemn—more solemn than you'd ever witnessed him. "... Don't you wonder about what's out there? Stuff that's cold and fluffy and falls from the sky. Things that come in colors we haven't seen."

"Sometimes," you admitted quietly, "but those are just dreams. I don't chase them."

"Maybe you should. We should," he mused, fingers tucked under his chin. "I bet there's all sorts of things we've never even dreamed of, too. And wouldn’t you like to see something strange?”

"I would. I really, really would," you told him in a soothing tone. Trying to reassure him as much as you were yourself. "Let's not doing anything dangerous though. I sense something in the wind—tragedy at hand. I can't shake that feeling that something bad is around the bend if you tread that path."

You gingerly laid your hand over his. Behind tinted lenses, his eyes widened.

"Stay here with me," you begged. "We can be together. Gaze at the stars. Be safe in one another's arms."

“… Sweetness, I would love for nothing more than to have you and to hold you ‘til death do us part.” His voice fluttered like the brush of a falling leaf upon your cheek. He regarded you tenderly, locking his fingers with yours and squeezing. “But you know that’s not the kind of man I am.”

“Yes, you’re every flavor of foolish imaginable,” you replied, pressing your forehead against his, “and I love you for that.”

“As do I.” He brought his icy lips to the back of your hand. A chill spider-walked up your arm, and you shivered.

“Then…”

“That’s why I must depart one day.” He pushed his glasses up. You caught the tragic reflection of your face in his lenses. “Out there… something more awaits us. I’m sure of that. I intend to find it and revive our town, this season that’s gone stale.”

“I won’t stop you if you decide to go,” you murmured. “And I will count the days until you return to me.”

“I knew you’d understand.” His smile—now it was touched with sadness, the knowledge of soon parting ways. “Thank you, dearest.”

He stood slowly, drawing you up with him. Your feet followed, as if pulled along by a puppeteer. How in sync the two of you were, how nicely molded your bodies were to one another’s. Your joy melded under the watchful eye of the moon.

“Shall we share a dance? One for the road,” he crooned. An errant breeze tousled his pallid hair, his tattered coattails—but to you, he was fairest of them all. “Our last dance for a while.”

“Alright, let’s make this one count,” you chuckled, “so I can send you off on your travels with a smile.”

“Excellent 🎵” He slid a hand around your waist, guiding you to lean into him. “Let the merrymaking commence!!”

“Yes…!!”

The midnight waltz began.

He led you, step by step, and you trailed after. Movements easy and effortless, like two intertwining maple leaves, spinning and spiraling. Their partner, the center of their universe.

“It’s as plain anyone can see,” he breathed.

“We’re simply meant to be,” you returned.

They danced as if possessed or an enchantment was cast upon their footwear. The moment too sweet, too succulent, to relinquish so soon. They wanted to savor it, indulge in it—and each other.

For never was there a more perfect pair than the Pumpkin King and his consort.

858 notes · View notes

mrsfancyferrari · 7 months ago

Text

Want You

Summary: LN4 + "But I don't want them, I want you." 🥧🏈

Song: Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 10.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

You stand in the mirror, pacing back and forth as you fix your hair for the third time. Tonight is one of those nights where the universe feels electrically charged, a perfect blend of thrill and anxiety swirling in your gut.

Layla, your best friend, has just finished getting ready and is practically beaming with excitement beside you.

Her skin glows under the soft lights of your apartment, and her dress hugs her figure perfectly. You can’t help but feel slightly overshadowed by her beauty.

"Do I look okay?" you ask, biting your lip, your eyes darting from her to your reflection.

"Are you kidding? You look amazing!" Layla exclaims, twisting a lock of her hair, her eyes sparkling. "But you really need to get out there more. You’re gorgeous in your own right!”

You chuckle, brushing off her compliment with a wave of your hand. "Yeah, well, even if I am, who's going to notice when you're around? You’re the one who gets all the attention. "

"That's not true! But anyway, tonight we’re supposed to have fun, not talk about that,” she says, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you lightly. “Now, remember the plan?”

You nod, though your heart feels heavier with those words. “Right. We’re meeting Lando and the guys at the club. I just hope he doesn’t think I’m some awkward third wheel. He’s popular.”

Layla rolls her eyes playfully. “You say that every time. You two are friends. Besides, I think he likes you more than you think.”

“Whatever you say,” you respond, your mind racing back to the day Lando had randomly entered your life during a charity event you were volunteering for.

He was charming, funny, and incredibly humble for someone so famous. But the thought of anything romantic blossoming between you seemed absurd, especially when Layla was practically the embodiment of what everyone desired.

At the club, the bass vibrates through the floor, and colorful lights dance around the crowd like fireflies in the night. It’s an atmosphere alive with energy, but you feel your heartbeat quicken at the thought of seeing Lando.

You spot him near the bar, a bright smile on his face as he talks to some friends. Dressed casually, Lando is effortlessly cool, like a magnetic pull that draws everyone’s attention.

“There he is!” Layla exclaims, her excitement infectious. You watch her eyes grow wide like a child spotting a shooting star.

“Go! Go talk to him!” you nudge her, unable to keep the urge to play matchmaker at bay.

“No way! I’m not going without my wingwoman,” she whispers urgently, grabbing your wrist.

With a resigned sigh, you stride forward, Layla trailing closely behind. The moment Lando sees you, his face lights up, and he waves enthusiastically.

The way his presence commands attention is almost intoxicating.

“Hey! You made it!” he greets, pulling you in for a quick hug. You can smell his cologne, fresh and invigorating. Suddenly, your shyness mellows into warmth, though a tiny inner voice reminds you that you’re about to play cupid.

“Of course! Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you reply, your demeanor suddenly a mix of confidence and nervous fluttering. “Lando, this is my best friend Layla. You should hang out with her more—she’s awesome!”

Layla’s cheeks flush, and a playful smirk spreads across her face, but you can’t help but feel anxiety gnawing at you.

“Nice to meet you, Layla,” Lando says, his bright green eyes sparkling with genuine curiosity. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Only good things, I hope!” Layla giggles, twirling a strand of hair around her fingers as if she wasn’t sure what to do with her hands.

“Yes, definitely,” he chuckles lightly, shooting you a glance that feels a bit mischievous. “I always wanted to meet the friend who keeps you so grounded.”

You fight to keep your composure, trying to bury the layer of jealousy creeping in. “Well, tonight’s all about celebrating. We should hit the dance floor!”

Hours pass with drinks flowing and laughter echoing. You dance, reveling in the rhythm while keeping a watchful, almost possessive gaze on Layla and Lando. They banter, and you notice how easily they connect, the chemistry undeniable.

A part of you feels satisfied, hoping for the sparks to ignite. Yet, another part steals glances at the way Lando laughs—could he truly like her?

“Hey,” you hear a familiar voice call, pulling you from your thoughts. Lando approaches, his brow slightly furrowed. “I was looking for you. Want to join us?”

You swallow, glancing at Layla, who is leaning against her car, her smile bright. “Um, sure. Just one moment.”

He watches you, a look of concern crossing his face. “Everything alright?”

You smiled, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “Yeah but you know, Layla really lights up the floor.”

“She does,” he nodded, taking a sip of his drink. “But I think you’re just as fun. It’s nice having both of you here.”

“Nice being here with you.” The words spilled from your mouth before you could bite them back.

Before you nerves could take over, you added, “You know, if you’re interested, Layla would love to get coffee or something. She’s crushing on you.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Lando’s face, followed by an understanding nod. “Yeah, I picked up on that. But honestly?” He paused, searching for your eyes. “I think I’d prefer hanging out with you instead."

Your breath hitched, and you felt a giddy thrill dance in your chest. “Really? You mean that?”

“Definitely,” he said, leaning forward with a grin. “You’re fun to talk to, and we have a great vibe. I really like spending time with you.”

“Wow, I… I wasn’t expecting that,” you stammered, a mixture of confusion and excitement swirling inside you. “I mean, Layla is great and all, but—”

“Look,” he interrupted gently, his eyes softening. “I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, but I’d love to get to know you better. Just you. No Layla.”

The morning sunlight peeked through the curtains, casting soft golden rays across the small living room where Lando and you sat. Your head ached, pounding in rhythm with your heartbeat, and the remnants of last night's festivities loomed over you like a heavy cloud.

Lando chuckled softly, shaking his head. “It wasn’t anything too wild, don’t worry. Just that you really like spending time with me… and that you might like me in a different way.”

Your face burned even hotter, a mix of embarrassment and panic flooding your senses. “Oh my god! Lando, I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to… I don’t remember any of that! It’s embarrassing.”

“Hey, don’t stress,” he said, a warm smile crossing his lips. “It’s not like you announced it to the whole party or anything. Just me, your trusted partner in crime. Besides, it's actually kind of sweet.”

His words were laced with a sincerity that calmed the storm brewing inside you, just a little. “You really think so?”

“Definitely,” Lando nodded, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I mean, how often do you get to hear someone’s true thoughts when they’re tipsy? It made my night a lot better.”

“Are you serious? I was a mess!” You tossed a pillow at him, your heart still racing from the earlier confession. “I can't believe I let that slip.”

“You were not a mess, you were just… liberated,” Lando smirked, leaning back on the couch and folding his arms behind his head. “And honestly, I don’t think it’s a bad thing. In fact, it kind of makes me happy.”

“Ugh, Lando, you’re just saying that to make me feel better,” you replied, your voice wavering as you tried to muster a hint of displeasure.

“No, I’m not.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I mean, how often do you get to hear someone’s true thoughts when they’re tipsy?”

“Are you serious? I was a mess!” You tossed a pillow at him, your heart still racing from the earlier confession. “I can't believe I let that slip.”

“No you weren't.” His face lit up with a smile that was infectious. “First things first, though—let’s get you over that hangover.”

You chuckled softly, grateful for the shift in energy. “Right.”

“Exactly,” Lando said, standing up and moving to the kitchen. “How do you feel about greasy food? Because I believe that’s the primary cure for hangovers.”

Your lips curved into a smile. “Always a solid choice. I could go for some toast or maybe even pancakes.”

“I can whip up something interesting,” he called back, a hint of mischief creeping into his voice. “But it might not be traditional breakfast food. I’ve been experimenting a little.”

“Oh boy, this should be good,” you said, following him into the kitchen, the earlier tension still lingering, but now more like a hopeful promise than a cloud of uncertainty.

Lando looked back over his shoulder with that charming grin that made your heart race. “Just trust me. You’ll love it.”

As he rummaged through the cabinets, you felt a flutter of excitement amid the remnants of your embarrassment. Maybe today wasn’t just about curing a hangover. Maybe it was the start of something new—something sweet and just a little bit wild.

The kitchen filled with the aroma of sizzling ingredients, laughter, and casual banter, the gravitational pull of your connection drawing you closer.

And for the first time that morning, as the sunlight spilled in and the soft music played, you felt truly, undeniably alive. . . .

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden hue over the McLaren paddock as the roar of engines filled the air. You had arrived earlier than expected, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Lando had invited you specifically to watch him race, and you had decided to bring Layla with you, thinking it might make the day more enjoyable.

But now, as you watched the interactions unfold around you, you began to regret that decision.

“Look at them,” Layla said, nudging your arm and pointing toward the racing cars as they zipped around the track. “Isn’t it incredible? I still can’t believe we’re here!”

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to suppress the tension knotting up your stomach.

Lando was on the other side of the paddock, surrounded by his team, engrossed in the pre-race hustle. He looked effortlessly cool in his race suit, flashing that signature smile that made your heart skip, and exchanging laughter with his crew.

You could see the admiration in Layla’s eyes, the way her gaze followed him, almost too fondly.

“Do you think he’ll win today?” Layla asked, her voice bright with enthusiasm. “I mean, he’s been so on form lately. This might be his season!”

“Yeah, I hope so,” you managed, but your heart sank a little at the way she spoke about him, as if Lando was already hers, as if you didn’t even exist in the context of their perfect relationship.

As the anticipation built, Lando finished up with his team and made his way over to you both. With a warm grin, he wrapped you in a tight hug, his comforting scent of fresh cedar and sunlight enveloping you.

“Hey, you made it!” he exclaimed, pulling back to look into your eyes. He waved cheerfully at Layla, who returned the gesture with a beaming smile.

With a playful tap on my shoulder, he kept his attention locked on you. “I bought your favorite snacks in case you get hungry. Just ask anyone in hospitality and they'll give them to you.”

“Oh, Lando, you didn’t have to,” you said, touched by his thoughtfulness.

“I knew you didn’t eat much,” he replied, with a hint of teasing in his tone. “Gotta keep you energized, right? What would the fans say if they saw you fainting in the stands?”

You chuckled, the lightheartedness of his comment managing to ease some of the tension in your chest. “I appreciate it, really. Thanks, Lando.”

“Of course!” He flashed that dazzling smile again, and your heart skipped yet again, wishing it wouldn’t betray you so. “Are you excited for the race?”

“Absolutely,” You said with a grin. “I can’t wait to see you speed past everyone. You’re going to crush it!”

Lando’s cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment. “I’ll do my best. And if all goes to plan, maybe we can celebrate afterward?”

“Definitely!” you replied a little too quickly. “That would be amazing!”

As Lando left to get ready for the race and you walked to the garage, Layla nudged you playfully. “Haven't you seen the way he looks at you?” she said, a teasing smirk on her face.

“How do he… look at me?” you asked, a hint of confusion in your voice.

“Like he's helplessly falling in love,” Layla teased, her tone light but with a touch of sincerity.

Your cheeks heated. “Oh, come on. He’s just friendly. You know how he is.”

“Friendly? Girl, he’s practically glowing when he sees you! It’s more than friendly.”

You didn't reply but her words were replayed in your head for most of the day. . . .

The roar of the engines and the excitement of the crowd filled the air as you settled into your seat, your heart racing along with the cars on the track.

You had been eagerly watching Lando drive with impressive precision, your admiration mixed with nerves as he expertly navigated the twists and turns of the circuit.

But as the laps dwindled down, your stomach began to rumble louder than the cars. You leaned over to Layla, who was just as engrossed in the race aside from the occasional glance in your direction.

“I'm going to grab some snacks Lando got for me. Want anything?” you asked, trying to mask your growing hunger with a light-hearted tone.

“No, I’m good! Can’t believe you have personal snacks from the Lando,” Layla teased, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.

With a playful roll of your eyes, you made your way to the hospitality room, the bright lights and lavish decor a stark contrast to the rawness of the track.

You felt a rush of nostalgia thinking about all the times Lando had surprised you with silly little gestures, like snacking during breaks or rescuing you from long queues at events.

As you entered, the atmosphere abruptly shifted. A tall, undeniably handsome man leaned casually against the bar, a cocky smile on his face that could light up the room.

He had perfectly styled hair and a confidence that was palpable. You instinctively felt your pulse quicken, but not in the way you were used to with Lando.

“Hey there,” he drawled, his voice smooth like velvet as he turned to face you. “What’s a gorgeous girl like you doing all alone?”

You blinked, taken aback. It was the first time someone had openly flirted with you in public, and the realization made your cheeks flush.

“Um, just grabbing some snacks,” you stammered, glancing back toward the snack table. “Not much to see here.”

He moved closer, leaning forward on the bar, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, I’d hardly call you ‘not much to see.’ You definitely stand out from the crowd. What’s your name?”

“Uh, it’s…” you hesitated, almost forgetting your own name for a moment. “It’s Y/N. And you are…?”

“Ethan,” he replied, extending a hand with an air of confidence. You hesitated but eventually shook his hand. “So Y/N, do you come to the races often?”

“More often than you’d think,” you answered, forcing a smile.

Your mind kept drifting back to Lando, his curly hair bouncing with every turn, his infectious laugh, his enthusiastic spirit. You couldn't help but mentally compare every detail of Ethan to Lando, a habit you couldn’t shake off.

“What do you think of the race so far?” Ethan asked, diverting your thoughts back to the present.

“Oh, it’s exhilarating! Lando’s doing really well,” you replied, your voice faltering slightly as you mentioned his name. “He’s a great driver.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Lando? The Lando?”

“Yeah, we’ve known each other for a bit. He’s… well, great,” you added sheepishly, not wanting to divulge too much about your friendship.

“Sounds like you’re a bit smitten,” Ethan teased, his eyes sparkling with playful banter.

You cut him a look, a blush creeping up your neck. “No! It’s not like that. We’re just friends!” The resolve in your voice felt weak against the wistfulness laced in your words.

Would Ethan ever understand the depth of what Lando meant to you?

The race continued, and Ethan shifted his attention from the track to you. “While I might not have curly hair or that… infectious laugh, I can still try to impress you,” he said with a smirk.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “I can’t deny you’re charming, Ethan. But the thing about Lando—”

“Is that he’s Lando,” Ethan interrupted, his voice low as though the name itself held some power. “I get it. You’ve got this history that I can’t compete with.”

He looked down, running a hand through his hair. The gesture seemed so reminiscent of Lando, yet distinctly different.

You couldn’t shake off how much every flick of Ethan’s hair and every smile he flashed felt in stark contrast to Lando’s bouncy curls and radiant grin. He smiled, sure, but it felt like a shadow of something brighter.

Just then, a staff member waved at Ethan from the other side of the grandstand, beckoning him over for photographs. “I’ll be right back!” he said, throwing you one last flirtatious grin before he slipped away.

You decided to take the chance to get back to your seat, curious as to why the cheers around the paddock were getting louder.

“Did you get your snacks?” Layla asked, her eyes still glued to the screen where the race was unfolding.

“Yeah,” you replied absentmindedly, still feeling the flutter of excitement from Ethan's attention. As you focused on the race, your thoughts danced back to him intermittently.

The atmosphere was electric; Lando was still in the lead for qualifying, much to the delight of the crowd, and your heart raced not just from the race—but from the momentary thrill of flirtation.

“Come on, come on, Lando!” Layla shouted, her enthusiasm infectious. You mirrored her excitement, your eyes following the sleek McLaren as it whizzed around the track.

When Lando crossed the finish line, securing pole position, the roar from the team was deafening. Everyone in McLaren was ecstatic, their cheers echoing the adrenaline that surged through the air.

"Yes, Lando," you said, smiling as the cameras captured the jubilant scene.

With Lando’s triumph, you watched as the team swarmed to congratulate him. You couldn't help but chuckle at his signature grin, the way he seemed to glow with the thrill of victory.

But as you looked closer, you realized that despite the chaos around him, Lando’s gaze was searching the crowd.

“Do you think he’ll spot us?” Layla asked, her eyes narrowing, trying to catch a glimpse through the throng of people.

“I doubt it. I mean, look at him! He’s the star of the show right now,” you replied, attempting to downplay the hope that fluttered in your stomach.

Still, your thoughts were interrupted as Layla suddenly grabbed your hand, pulling you through the crowd.

“C'mon! We need to get a closer look!” she shouted over the noise. Your heart raced for a different reason now, excitement growing as you maneuvered through the ocean of fans, team members, and media.

You just managed to catch a glimpse of Lando standing on his car, fist raised triumphantly in the air. “Look at him! He’s on top of the world!” you exclaimed, your voice barely audible over the cheers.

“I know! He’s incredible!” Layla responded, beaming at Lando’s joyous display.

Amidst the clamor and celebrations, you decided to yell out, “Lando, over here!” hoping he might hear you.

To your surprise, he turned in your direction, a radiant smile breaking across his face. He scanned the crowd, and for a heartbeat, your eyes locked. His smile grew broader, and you felt warmth flood your cheeks.

Then, without a thought for the crowd around you, you made your way over to him. You squeezed through a chaotic throng of jubilant fans, the buzz of celebration swirling around you, until you reached the area near the barriers.

There he was, laughing and exchanging high-fives with the team. You couldn't help but grin as you approached.

“Lando!” you shouted over the noise, arms open wide.

He spotted you immediately, and a look of pure joy washed over his face. With almost immediate instinct, he lunged toward you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace.

The strength of his excitement was palpable, and you squeezed him back, your heart racing.

He chuckled as he lifted you slightly off the ground. “I did it! I can't believe it!” he cried, setting you back down gently. “Did you see that last lap?”

“Are you kidding? It was amazing! You were so fast!” you exclaimed, your voice rising above the cacophony.

As he pulled back, he looked down at you with his bright eyes sparkling in the fading light. “I couldn’t have done it without all your support. You were here every step of the way.”

“You’ve worked so hard, Lando. You deserve this,” you said, your gaze drifting for a moment as you felt the warmth of his presence envelop you.

But then, staring at him with the backdrop of the ecstatic crowd, your heart felt odd. Being so close to him, you suddenly found yourself stammering. “I—uh, I mean… you really did great.”

Lando tilted his head slightly, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You alright?” He took a small step closer, his arm still around your waist, making you acutely aware of the physical closeness between you, which felt both comfortable and electric.

“Uh, yeah, totally fine,” you replied quickly, but your voice was barely above a whisper. You caught a brief glimpse of Lando's gaze flitting to your lips, and it sent a jolt of connection rushing through you.

“I just… I mean…” You struggled to finish your thought, the reality of your best friend stepping into the limelight making you feel both thrilled and ridiculously nervous.

“Just what?” he teased gently, his smile unwavering but those eyes—oh, those eyes were searching, digging deeper.

“Just… I didn’t think you’d get pole position! I mean, I thought maybe, like, third or fourth?” You laughed nervously, but his gaze didn’t waver.

“Hey, you should always believe in me!” Lando said, but there was a soft intensity behind his words that made your heart race all the more. “If I can get here today, then you have to promise you’ll always believe in me, no matter what.”

You paused, looking earnestly into his bright eyes, biting your lip. “I promise. But you’ve gotta promise me too; no matter how famous you get or how many trophies you win, you won’t forget about me, okay?”

“Never,” he said softly, but the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine. He lowered his voice, his teasing demeanor fading slightly.

“You’ve been my constant through all of this, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Lando’s words lingered palpably in the air between you. You felt like the entire world had faded away, the crowd’s roars dimming into background noise. “I just… I could never replace what we have.”

“Exactly,” he said, moving a fraction closer, eliciting butterflies to flutter chaotic within your stomach. “Remember that time you thought I’d mess up in Monaco, and then I didn’t? I was convinced I could do it because you believed in me.”

You laughed, flushing at the memory. “Yeah, and you laughed at me for just being realistic.”

“Realistic is boring! You should know that by now. In racing, and in life, you gotta dream big,” he said, voice lightening as humor returned to the moment.

Just as you were about to respond, Zac approached. “Hey! Lando! Congrats, mate!”

He clapped Lando on the back, breaking the synergy you had created. “That was an incredible race! You crushed it!”

Lando’s hand left your waist as he turned to engage with Zac, his infectious excitement pulling him into the conversation. “Thanks, man! I can’t believe it! I was so nervous the entire time!”

You stepped back slightly, allowing the two of them to revel in the adrenaline of the moment. Lando beamed, his eyes sparkling as he spoke animatedly with Zac about the race strategy.

You watched as he made his way to get weighed and interviewed, your heart fluttering with a mix of pride and something else you weren’t quite ready to admit.

“Really, though, I don’t understand why you’re still on the fence about it,” Layla said, stepping beside you as you discreetly observed Lando.

Her voice was laced with curiosity as she nudged your shoulder. “He’s been so into you these past few weeks. Did you see how he looked at you when he saw you?”

You sighed, leaning back against the wall, your gaze still fixed on Lando. “Yeah, well, I saw that. But just because he looks at me a certain way doesn’t mean he likes me. He’s excited about the race, Layla. I’m just… there.”

“You’re not just ‘there.’ You’re practically glowing in his vicinity. It’s like he only sees you when he talks!” Layla insisted, her tone shifting to teasing. “You could light up an entire stadium with the way he smiles at you.”

“Okay, maybe he enjoys spending time with me,” you conceded, your cheeks warming at the thought. “But that doesn't exactly scream ‘I like you.’”

“Maybe not,” she replied, tilting her head as she watched Lando waving at fans and signing autographs, “but you’ve got to admit, there’s something more. I mean, look at him! The energy is off the charts!”

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep the conversation light. “You know how he is. He’s a charismatic guy. He’s like that with everyone.”

“Maybe. But wouldn’t it be amazing if he was like that with just you?” Layla’s voice softened, and she nudged you again. “Take the leap! Ask him how he feels—it doesn’t have to be a grand declaration.”

The sun was beginning to set over the racing circuit, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky as Lando settled himself into a high-backed chair in the paddock lounge.

It had been a day filled with adrenaline, the thrill of achieving pole position lighting up his thoughts.

The victory celebrations had been electrifying, but they were quickly overshadowed by a single purpose that surged through him like fuel to an engine—he wanted to see you again.

After the debrief, he had scanned the crowd, searching for you, his excitement building with each passing second. He had been talking about trying a new restaurant in town, and he couldn’t wait to explore it with you.

But the moment he stepped into the bustling lounge, he spotted you, and his heart sank just a little.

You were laughing.

Not just a polite chuckle, but a full-bodied laugh that lit up your face. You were engaged in conversation with Ethan Smith, the American actor who had been brought in as a special guest to support the race.

Lando could see the chemistry between you two—it was glaringly evident in the way Ethan leaned in slightly, his playful jokes coaxing out laughter and smiles that made your eyes sparkle.

“Hey, you look like you’re going to kill Ethan,” Layla, your best friend, teased as she sidled up to Lando, noticing the tense atmosphere that had suddenly enveloped him.

“Who?” Lando asked, tearing his gaze from you for just a moment.

“Ethan Smith? One of the most famous actors in the US? You don’t know him?” Layla's voice was filled with disbelief.

“Nope, and I don’t like him either,” Lando grumbled, eyes narrowing as he watched Ethan wink at you.

You giggled, and Lando felt a twinge of jealousy in his chest. He stood up properly, unable to resist the pull any longer.

As he stormed over, Layla rolled her eyes, giggling softly in amusement. “Good luck, hero.”

Lando approached, trying to keep his expression neutral even while he could feel a competitive spark igniting within him.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” he said, forcing a smile as he sidled up next to you, “but I thought we were going to check out that new place together.”

You turned to him, your smile blossoming even wider. “Lando! You were amazing out there today! I still can’t believe you got pole position!”

“Thanks! It was a good day, but I’ve got even better plans,” he added, shooting Ethan a pointed look. “I’m taking you out for dinner remember.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow, clearly unbothered and amused by Lando's sudden intrusion. “Oh, is that so? Looks like you’ve got some competition, Norris.”

Lando’s jaw twitched slightly. “I don’t see any competition, honestly. You’re just a—”

“Just a what?” Ethan interrupted with a smirk, leaning back casually. “Just a huge star who happens to be having a lovely conversation with someone he finds incredibly charming?”

You giggled again, a sound that made Lando’s irritation simmer down just a fraction. “You guys, come on. I’m just trying to enjoy the evening here.”

“Exactly,” said Ethan, flashing you a disarming smile. “And you deserve it! Besides, I was just giving her some advice on how to handle the media.”

“Media?” Lando questioned, crossing his arms. “I didn’t realize you were running a media workshop.”

Ethan shrugged, unbothered. “Hey, just sharing the wisdom I’ve gained. It can be tough, huh? Like staying out of the limelight while everyone’s watching you, waiting for you to slip up.” He shot a harmless smile, but Lando felt the jabs in his stomach.

You frowned, sensing the tension. “You guys, let’s not make this into a competition. Lando, you were the one who wanted to go out tonight.”

Lando looked at you, and then back at Ethan. “Right,” he said, softening his tone as he fixed his eyes solely on you. “I just wanted to celebrate with you a little, that’s all.”

Ethan grinned, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright! Looks like you’ve claimed your prize, my friend. I was just enjoying the company. I’ll step back.”

Lando glanced at Ethan with a nod, appreciating the concession, but still feeling a little victorious as he turned back to you. “So, are you ready to go eat? That new place is supposed to be amazing.”

You looked back to Ethan, and then nodded, a sweet smile curling on your lips. “Yeah, I’m ready. Sorry for taking up your time, Ethan.”

Ethan waved it off with a playful wink. “No problem! Have fun out there, you two. Just remember, she was laughing with me first!”

As you and Lando began to walk away, he turned back to you with a raised eyebrow. “You know, just for the record, I think he was flirting with you.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh please, he’s just a friendly guy! Besides, I already have someone I’m interested in.”

“Good,” Lando muttered, feeling a rush of relief and warmth flooding his chest. “Just making sure.”

He smiled down at you, his heart feeling a little lighter now. “Let’s go enjoy our dinner and make some headlines of our own, huh?”

“Sounds perfect,” you said, linking your arm through his as you both made your way out, leaving the tension behind you.

Lando couldn’t help but smile at the thought of spending the evening with you, feeling that maybe the only competition that truly mattered was the one he could embrace.

The evening air was cooler than expected, igniting a small thrill of anticipation as you stepped out of the car. You looked up at the restaurant’s glowing sign, your heart fluttering a little.

This place was newly opened, a fusion of modern and vintage charm, and you were eager to see if it lived up to its reputation.

As you adjusted your jacket, you glanced at Lando, who was standing beside you with an easy grin, his eyes sparkling like the city lights around you. Ever since he came into your life, each moment felt a little more vibrant, a little more alive.

“Have you seen the menu?” you asked, looking up at him, excitement bubbling in your voice.

He nodded, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “I did, and I can tell you right now, I’m going for that pumpkin risotto. It sounds incredible.”

You laughed. “Pumpkin risotto? It seems a bit heavy for someone who just came off a race, doesn’t it?”

“Hey, I need my carbs!” he retorted playfully, nudging your shoulder with his. “Especially after that race last week. I burned more calories than I could count, you know.”

“Fine, but I’m holding you to it. If you fall asleep in the middle of dinner, we might have a problem,” you teased back, stepping inside the restaurant.

The atmosphere enveloped you like a warm embrace—soft lighting, a hint of herbs wafting from the kitchen, and laughter echoing from nearby tables. You felt a buzz of excitement in your veins as you and Lando were led to a cozy corner table.

“So, what are you going to have?” he asked, picking up the menu and scanning it with genuine interest.

You shrugged, pretending to gauge the choices with utmost seriousness. “I think I’ll try the seafood linguine. It’s been ages since I’ve had good pasta.”

Lando’s expression softened, and he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “You know, I love when you get excited about food. It’s one of those little things that makes you… well, you.”

A warm blush crept onto your cheeks. “I didn’t realize you were so observant, Mr. Norris.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I notice the important things. Like how you scrunch your nose when you’re thinking, or how your eyes light up when you talk about your favorite books.”

“Okay, now you’re just getting mushy.” Your voice barely hid your embarrassment, but the fluttering in your chest was unmistakable.

You loved how easily he could make you smile.

Their server arrived, and you both ordered. As you waited, the conversation flowed easily, moving from playful banter about Lando’s racing experiences to sharing your dream travel destinations.

“I really want to visit Japan,” you said, your eyes dancing with the thought. “The culture, the food, the cherry blossoms… it seems magical.”

Lando leaned back, an amused smile plastered on his face. “You’re a romantic at heart, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” you admitted, biting your lip. “What about you? Where would you go if you had the chance?”

He paused, his expression thoughtful. “Probably somewhere quiet. Racing is intense, so I think I’d like a peaceful beach. Just to sit, reflect, and maybe learn to surf.”

“Surfing, huh?” You quirked an eyebrow. “You? I can already picture you wiping out spectacularly.”

“Oh, I’d definitely faceplant! But I’d get back up,” he said, his laughter infectious. “Just like on the track. That’s what makes it all fun, right?”

Before you could respond, your food arrived, and the divine aroma filled the air. You both dove into the dishes eagerly, enjoying the burst of flavors that danced on your tongues.

“This is amazing!” you exclaimed, savoring a mouthful of your linguine. “You have to try this.”

Lando took a bite of your pasta and nodded approvingly. “Wow, that’s really good! But I’ll stick to my risotto for now.”

As dinner continued, the conversation turned more personal. Lando shared stories of his childhood, his dreams, and the pressures of being in the limelight, while you opened up about your own aspirations and the challenges you faced.

“Sometimes, it’s overwhelming,” he confessed, a hint of vulnerability lacing his words. “I mean, I love racing, but it can feel like everyone’s expectations are just weighing down on you.”

You reached across the table, placing your hand on his. “But you’re doing something incredible, Lando. You’re following your passion and inspiring people along the way. Just don’t lose sight of what matters.”

His gaze locked onto yours, lips curving into a smile that reached his eyes. “You always know what to say to make me feel better. I’m lucky to have you around.”

In that moment, you understood something deeper was blossoming between you—a connection that transcended the thrill of racing. It was a shared dream, a mutual understanding, and an undeniable chemistry that lit up the evening.

As the night wore on and the plates were cleared, you felt a mix of contentment and longing. The restaurant buzzed with laughter and conversations, but in your little corner, it was just you and Lando, caught in your own world.

“Next time, we should pick somewhere even more adventurous,” he suggested, a playful gleam in his eyes.

You leaned back, thinking of the possibilities. “That sounds perfect. Let’s make it a tradition.”

Lando grinned, and in that moment, you knew this was just the beginning of something beautiful. You just hope that your feelings won't get in the way. . . .

Layla’s coughs echoed through the empty hall as she wrapped herself tighter in a soft blanket on the couch, trying to drown out the sound of the outside world.

It felt bitterly unfair that her body had rebelled against her just when she’d been looking forward to watching the race with you.

“Hey, Layla,” you called from the kitchen, where you were prepping a few snacks. “I’m heading out now. Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

She turned her head slightly, her hair tousled and her cheeks flushed. “No, really, you should go. I’d just be a downer. Besides, I’d hate to get Lando sick. He’s got that race this weekend!”

“True, but…” you hesitated, feeling the weight of the unspoken words. “I mean, it would have been nice if we could all hang out together. I was kind of hoping you'd be there.”

Layla's smile was faint but brightened her pallid complexion. “I think you’re hoping for more than just ‘hanging out.’ You like him, don’t you?”

You sighed. “Maybe? I mean, after last night’s dinner… I just can’t tell if it was all in my head.”

A soft laugh escaped her lips, quickly followed by a cough. “You actually thought he was, what? Just being polite? You guys were practically flirting all night.”

“Flirting? Really?” You raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “I thought he was just being friendly. Charming, even. He’s always like that.”

“Yeah, but that look he gave you? Come on! It was like, 'how do I impress you?’ and 'you’re amazing’ wrapped in one.” She coughed again, and you felt guilt worming its way into your chest.

“Maybe he was just being a nice guy. Or he was bored...” you trailed off, unsure.

“Or maybe he’s into you, and you just don’t want to see it,” she countered, her voice softening. “You should go talk to him. Tonight could be your chance!”

You ran a hand through your hair, pondering Layla's words. What if? What if that spark you felt between you was mutual?

You took a deep breath as you nodded. “Okay. I’m going. Just to check in on him.”

“Good! Now go knock his socks off!” Layla replied, her enthusiasm cutting through her congestion. As you waved goodbye, a quiet mix of excitement and apprehension simmered in your stomach.

You arrived at the paddock, the unmistakable hum of excitement buzzing in the air. The energy of fans waving flags and donning their favorite team colors could be felt all around; it was palpable and infectious.

You took a moment to soak it all in, engaging with the fans milling about, sharing smiles and snapshots that captured the thrill of race day.

But amidst the joviality, you couldn't shake off the knot in your stomach. Lando had been acting differently lately, receiving an outpouring of negative comments and disproportionate criticism on social media.

It made your heart ache to see someone so talented being torn down and misunderstood, especially when he had always been so kind and considerate.

Today was supposed to be about racing, but you had a growing worry that Lando might not be able to shake off the weight that was pressing down on him.

Once you greeted the last group of fans, you made your way through the paddock with purpose. The noise faded slightly as you approached Lando's garage—his sanctuary, where he would armor up for the battles on the track.

The energy there was different; it was practically electric, the team buzzing around, making final adjustments to the car and going over the last-minute strategies.

Still, your focus was solely on Lando.

You searched for him in every nook and cranny, peeking into the bustling pit area and checking around the hospitality suites. But a feeling of dread began to take root when you couldn’t find him.

“Maybe he’s in his driver’s room,” you murmured to yourself, trying to push down the worry that lingered like a shadow.

At the door, you hesitated, your heart racing. You knocked once, then twice, listening for the sound of his voice.

When no response came, you slowly turned the handle and pushed the door open, half-expecting him to be absorbed in some last-minute race preparation. Instead, the scene that greeted you was far from it.

Lando was curled up on the small, worn sofa, hands wrapped around his knees. He jumped slightly at the sight of you, his eyes wide, a mix of surprise and vulnerability.

“Oh Y/N, I didn’t hear you come in,” he said, forcing on a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You frowned at the sight of him, the dim light casting shadows across his face, revealing red-rimmed eyes. Your heart sank. “Lando… what’s wrong?”

You lowered yourself onto the sofa next to him, the familiar scent of his cologne wrapping around you like a comforting embrace, but it did little to ease your concern.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” he replied too quickly, the practiced lightness in his voice clashing with the heaviness in the room.

You could see the slight tremor in his hands, and your worry deepened. You reached out, tentatively placing a hand on his knee.

“You’re not fine,” you said softly, searching his face for the usual spark you loved. “I can see it. Talk to me?”

He looked away, glancing out the window at the racetrack where the cars were roaring around the circuit.

You followed his gaze but quickly turned back to him, determined to break through the wall he had put up. “Does it have to do with the race? Is it the pressure?”

Lando shook his head, something between sad and grateful passing over his features. “It’s not that. Just… a lot on my mind, you know?” His words were heavy, like anchors sinking in deep water.

“That’s okay,” you said, shifting closer to him. “I’m here. You don’t have to go through it alone.”

He chuckled softly, though there was no humor behind it. “You’re always here, Y/N. That’s what I like about you. You make it easier.”

“Then let me help you,” you insisted gently, nudging him with your elbow while you tried to coax out a more genuine response.

“Can I get a hug?” you asked, knowing that physical closeness might be the best way to pull Lando out of the shell he’d crawled into.

He hesitated, eyes darting around the room like a deer caught in headlights. Then, hesitantly, he leaned into you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

The warmth of his body was comforting, but as he buried his face against the curve of your neck, you felt the tell-tale signs of him holding back. You hugged him tighter, hoping he could feel the strength of your support.

“Let it out,” you whispered, holding him as he exhaled deeply, searching for words that seemed stuck in his throat. “Please.”

You rubbed his back in soothing circles, the silent rhythm cocooning you both in a bubble of softness. You didn't care if you were basically sitting on his lap; all you cared about was Lando.

“It's just... a lot,” he murmured finally, his voice muffled against you. “The media, the fans—they're relentless. I don’t think I can do it today.”

“Shhh…” you soothed, leaning back slightly to bring his gaze toward you. His big, dark eyes looked lost, a storm brewing behind them. “You’re stronger than they think. You love racing, remember? You belong out there.”

He looked away, swallowing hard. You could see the emotions swirling within him, battling between fear and desire, doubt and determination. “But what if I mess up again? What if…”

“Lando,” you interrupted gently. “What if you do great? You can’t let fear write your story for you. You have to give yourself a chance.”

His fingers found your waist as he held you closer, the intensity in his grip conveying everything words could not. “I just don’t want to let anyone down,” he confessed finally, his breath warm against your ear.

“You won’t,” you assured him, your heart racing with the intimacy of the moment. “Not with me by your side. You have me, Lando; I believe in you.”

With every squeezed breath, the hug felt too tight, arms closing around you, squeezing you, pressing together, inch by inch. You could feel his hesitance melting into something else, something deeper, something that felt like your very own electricity.

Lando was the unpredictable force that set your heart aflame. Those arms wrapped tightly around you felt intoxicating, like a drug that sent your pulse racing when the rest of the world faded away.

His phone buzzed, jolting you both back to the reality of the upcoming race.

“It’s Oscar,” he muttered, annoyance tugging at his features. “I don’t want to go; I can’t face the pit or the cameras.”

You lifted your chin, meeting his gaze fully. “Well, I can’t do this for you, but I can be right there with you. You need to let them see how you feel. It’s okay to show vulnerability, Lando.”

He took a deep breath, and you could see the gears in his mind turning. “What if it’s not enough?” he muttered, but the fire in his voice was finally wavering.

“Enough for who?” you pressed. “You don’t have to perform for them. Just do your race, and I’ll be right there cheering for you.”

“Really?” He looked at you, the hope flickering in his gaze almost enough to make you lean in and kiss him.

“Absolutely. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You grinned, feeling the air shift between you, filled with the promise of something more.

Suddenly, Oscar’s voice boomed from the other side of the door, urgent and loud. “Lando, it’s time for the race!”

Lando groaned, clearly annoyed at being forced back into reality. “I guess I can’t hide in here forever, huh?”

“Nope. Now come on, let’s get you out there and show them what you’re made of.” You smiled, standing abruptly and holding out your hand to him.

He hesitated for a heartbeat before taking it, and you felt that warm pull between you. The brief moment of intimacy melded into something more solid as he clasped your fingers. He rose to his feet, tilting his head slightly to find your gaze once again.

“Thanks,” he said softly, his voice clear and stronger now. “For everything. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Probably get a lot more nervous,” you teased lightly, nudging him playfully. “But seriously, let’s go. You’ve got a race to win.”

As Lando Norris crossed the finish line for the fourth time that season, the entire track erupted in a symphony of cheers and celebrations.

You could barely contain your excitement, adrenaline surging through you as you pulled off your headphones, the sounds of the race still echoing in your mind.

All that mattered was Lando—your brilliant, talented Lando.

You joined the staff, a vibrant mix of engineers, mechanics, and strategists, who were all equally charged up. The atmosphere was electric, the air thick with the scent of burnt rubber and victory champagne.

You barely noticed the chaos unfolding around you as everyone rallied around the pit area. The crew, those unwavering supporters who had helped you get closer to Lando before, ushered you closer, their enthusiasm infectious.

“Come on! Right this way!” one of the crew members shouted over the noise, grabbing your hand and leading you through the throng.

You felt your heart race as the crowd’s energy swirled around you, anticipation making you giddy.

“Lando! Lando! Over here!” you shouted, waving your arms above your head like a lunatic.

A couple of crew members pointed in your direction, assisting the chaotic dance of the crowd.

And then it happened. His eyes met yours—green and bright like emeralds sparkling in sunlight. Time seemed to slow as he brightened at the sight, a genuine smile breaking across his face.

Without hesitation, he tore away from the crowd, sprinting toward you. The world blurred around you, the cheers fading until nothing mattered but the two of you.

When he reached you, it was like everything else faded away. He enveloped you in the biggest hug, his head tucked tightly against your neck.

Warmth washed over you, and you couldn’t help but laugh with pure joy.

“You did it! I knew you could!” you shouted, the excitement lacing your words as your arms wrapped around his neck.

His grip tightened as he pulled back to look into your eyes, the sexual tension thick between you. Lando's gaze lingered on your lips momentarily, and something about the way he held his gaze left your heart racing.

“I couldn’t have done it without you cheering me on,” he confessed, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re my good luck charm.”

“I think it’s the other way around,” you teased playfully. “You’ve got the talent, but I like to think I add a bit of magic.”

Lando chuckled, a sound like music that echoed around you, making your heart flutter. “Well, keep that magic close then, okay?”

Before you could respond, he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, just a breath away from your lips. Your breath hitched as the world fell away again, your cheeks flushed with warmth and perhaps a bit more than embarrassment.

“I—I should let you go celebrate with everyone,” you said, almost feeling shy as you took a step back, the rest of the team rallying around him with congratulations.

“Hey,” he said softly, his gaze never wavering as he reached for your hand, holding it tightly. “You’re coming with me, right? We have to celebrate together after!”

You blinked, surprised. “Really? Don't you want to celebrate with only your team?”

“I want to celebrate with you too!” He smiled, an infectious grin that made your heart skip a beat. “We’ll carve out our own little celebration. Just us after.”

Your heart soared. You nodded eagerly. “Okay!”

After the podium celebrations ended, the crowd dispersed, and the atmosphere filled with the crackling excitement of victory turned to an afterglow.

Lando Norris, with his signature grin and a trophy held high, had basked in the limelight, soaking up the roaring applause of the fans.

But that was only a moment for him; now, he was dragged away to the media center, leaving you standing at the edge of the pit lane, heart fluttering with the kiss he had planted on your cheek moments before.

You leaned against the pit wall, watching as he disappeared behind a barrage of cameras and reporters.

The warmth of his fleeting affection lingered on your skin, and a smile crept across your face despite the noise around you.

“Thinking about him, I see,” a voice interrupted your thoughts. You jumped slightly, caught off guard as you turned to see Ethan approaching.

He wore a knowing smirk, one that made your stomach twist of embarrassment.

“Oh, hi Ethan, what are you talking about?” You feigned nonchalance, crossing your arms.

“Lando, I’m talking about Lando,” Ethan replied, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Look, it’s clear you’ve got this enormous crush on him, but let’s not kid ourselves. He doesn’t like you like that. He’s just being friendly.”

Your heartbeat quickened for a different reason now—a mix of frustration and hurt. “What do you mean he doesn’t like me? He just won a race, and he kissed me, it was sweet.” You tried to sound more confident than you felt.

“Sweet?” Ethan scoffed. “That was just a celebratory peck. You know how he is with his fans. He flirts with everyone. It doesn’t mean he has a thing for you.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing back against his doubt. “But it felt different. The way he looked at me before he left… Ethan, we’ve talked, we’ve laughed.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Look, you’re a great person, and I get that you want to believe he’s into you. But do you really think he’s capable of liking someone with all of this fame and pressure around him? He’s got a busy life, and girlfriends are just more trouble in that world.”

The frustration bubbled in your chest. “You sound like my mom,” you shot back, unable to hide the sharpness in your tone. “You don’t even know him like I do.”

“Fair enough,” Ethan said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But you’ve got to admit, you’re setting yourself up for a huge disappointment here. Just... don’t get your hopes too high. I wouldn’t want to see you hurt.”

His exasperation was genuine, but it only deepened your resolve. “And I wouldn’t want to live my life scared to try because of what ‘might’ happen.”

Ethan sighed. “Okay, I’m not trying to ruin your fantasy. I just want you to be realistic.”

“Realistic or pessimistic?” you countered.

He laughed softly, the tension in the air easing just a bit. “Alright, let’s call it realistic, then.”

“Lando doesn’t like you that way,” Ethan had said, concern etched on his features.

Those words replayed in your head like a broken record, setting a tight knot in your stomach every time you thought of the charming driver.

Just as you attempted to shake off the lingering doubt, a staff member materialized out of thin air, his voice breaking through your thoughts. “Lando wants to see you now.”

“Thanks!” you called out, excusing yourself from Ethan’s company.

You felt a mix of anticipation and anxiety as you navigated through the hubbub of the garage, pushing aside doubts that had lingered since your morning conversation with Ethan.

Finally standing before Lando’s driver’s room, you raised your hand and knocked gently. “Come in,” his voice called out, warm and inviting.

You opened the door to find Lando leaning against the wall, a genuine smile lighting his face, so different from the frown of earlier that day. “Hi, champ!” you greeted him, a spark of joy igniting within you.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, standing upright as he approached you. “I’m really glad you’re here.” His eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint, and you could feel an electric tension crackling in the air between you.

You both settled into a rhythm of lighthearted conversation, laughing and reminiscing about the week’s events, but underneath every playful jab and shared joke, there was an unspoken acknowledgment of the chemistry that simmered between you.

Lando’s gaze felt heavy on you, filled with unexpressed words that lingered just beyond reach.

The air crackles with an unspoken tension as you stare into Lando's eyes, a mix of confusion and yearning coursing through every nerve in your body.

You can feel the warmth of his presence enveloping you, a fire igniting in the pit of your stomach as you try to decipher the myriad emotions swirling between you.

“So,” Lando began, his voice almost a whisper, eyes glistening with something serious, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

His voice quivers with uncertainty, the weight of his unexpressed feelings hanging heavily in the atmosphere, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

Your mind raced back to Ethan’s words: “Lando doesn’t like you, Y/N. He’s just playing around.” You shook your head slightly. You wouldn’t let yourself believe that.

You couldn’t allow the confusion between friendship and something more to blur in your mind; it was too painful.

He said, his tone firm yet tender. “I like you, Y/N.”

“You don’t, you can’t,” you protest meekly, recalling the stinging words Ethan had casually tossed your way, words that left a lingering ache in your chest.

The notion that Lando might not harbor genuine feelings for you feels like a betrayal, an unwelcome specter haunting the edges of this beautiful moment.

“Y/N—” His voice was earnest, but you shook your head, biting your lip to keep the tears at bay.

“Please don’t joke about that. If you don’t like me—if you’re just messing around—then don’t joke about it.” Each word felt like a dagger, piercing through the bubble of hope forming in your chest.

“Why do you think I’m saying this?” he asked, his voice low and laced with emotion. “Why would I bother if I didn’t mean it? This isn’t just some casual fling for me. I care about you, and it’s driving me insane keeping it all bottled up!”

You took a step back, your back hitting the closed door. “Lando, please, you can’t say that!” Tears began to stream down your cheeks unbidden.

“Why not?” he challenged softly, moving closer again, his gaze intense. “Why can’t I? Are you really going to deny what’s been between us? You feel it too right?”

The truth in his words shattered your defenses. “Lando, I—” Your voice broke, and the words tumbled out, heavier than you imagined.

“I’ve never been someone’s first choice before. It’s hard to believe that you actually want me.”

“Then believe me,” he urged, his hand gently cupping your cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

Lando’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he whispered, “You deserve to hear it, and I mean every word.”

You melted into him, your head resting against his chest while he held you tightly—firmly yet gently, a safe haven amidst your unraveling emotions.

He didn’t flinch as the tears soaked his shirt.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, sniffling against his shoulder. “I don’t want to lose this.”

“You won’t lose me. Not ever,” he promised, pulling back slightly so he could look into your eyes. “Just give us a chance. I won’t hurt you.”

After a long while, you managed to calm down, your heart still racing but your breaths a little steadier. Lando pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes; the concern etched on his face warmed you.

“Can I kiss you?” Lando asked, his voice laced with just a hint of uncertainty, as if he feared this moment would evaporate into thin air.

Time seemed to stand still as you considered his question. You could feel the heat radiating between you, a magnetic pull that drew you closer.

This was the moment you had both been dancing around, the very reason for the tension that crackled in the air.

You felt a flutter in your stomach at the question, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. “Yes,” you finally breathed out, the single word filled with yearning.

His eyes sparkled, and he leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted. But you didn’t; if anything, your heart raced as he brushed his lips against yours, soft and hesitant at first.

His lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss that spoke volumes of the feelings you both had kept hidden for too long. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in a warm embrace, filled with the promise of love and acceptance.

As the kiss deepened, you felt an overwhelming sense of relief and joy. It was as if everything you had fought against—the doubt, the fear—melted away, replaced with the certainty of Lando’s affection.

You knew, right then and there, that you had finally found someone who would stay, who truly wanted you for who you were.

When the kiss finally broke, you rested your forehead against his, your hearts still racing from the intensity of it all. “I’m sorry I pushed you away,” you murmured.

“Don’t be,” he replied softly. “I’m just glad I finally got to you.”

And in that moment, surrounded by a haze of newfound love and vulnerability, you both knew that this was only the beginning of something beautiful.

Something that you both deserved. . . . .

619 notes · View notes

yourlocalsmutwriter · 6 months ago

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IYCRTTBFO - Joel Miller x reader

cw: dbf! Joel is also a cam model, light(ish) daddy kink, creampies, at least two references to Wheeler Walker Jr. songs, big fat age gap

You couldn't sleep. It started at college, when you were working part-time while doing your masters thesis. Your night shift ended at 2.30 in the morning. Then, by the time you went to bed, you were struggling to shake off the buzzing energy. Your body was tired, and your mind was elsewhere. So you turned to the only true, tried and tested method of getting yourself to sleep. Masturbation. Low effort, porn video you've already watched, finger rubbing your clit, masturbation. It worked for about a week. Then your "sessions" got longer. And longer. You had to spend an hour now, chasing your orgasm. Begging yourself to cum. Getting more frustrated and then practically passing out like a log. You got good sleep out of it. But also it was getting painful. Your clit would hurt, a short stabbing pain taking your mind off of your thesis critique. Not that you were too keen on hearing about the feedback on your research model. So you were going to quit, cold turkey style. On the one hand, your insomnia persisted. Now you had replaced porn with your self assigned reading. But that did not help you sleep, just made you more cranky. Your cycadian rhythm was fucked beyond belief. So you moved through life half- asleep, always spending your days off napping. Morning meetings were rough and when you slept through an internship interview at 1, you knew enough was enough.

Back to flicking the bean to not be mean. You just figured you needed a change of scenery, so to speak. You considered OnlyFans, ready to be shelling out your hard earned cash for tasteful nudes (perhaps those of Markiplier or something like that). But that wouldn't be personal enough. You tried audio stuff, but the JOIs weren't really catered to you. Yes, they had your kinks. Or the pet names you liked. But never together, never quite enough. And call it conditioning, but you wanted something familiar. A certain Austin draw, a slice of the Texas you were far away from. But alas, your cowboy was not on Quinn or soundgasm. So you went old-school.

Girls like you weren't even supposed to know about camming sites. It was such a retro thing, more of your father's and Joel's generation. But it was thanks to the former's inability to delete a browser history that you were here. The landing page of the website was fine. You had to make the choice of looking at women, men, couples, or the trans category. Craving to see a solo cumshot, you click on "male". You should've expected that even here, it would be geared towards other guys, like most porn was. The tags of the rooms said it all. Anal. Fuckmachine. Party. But as you refreshed the home page again, someone caught your eye. It was a guy in a cowboy hat over his face. His tip goal was simple, promising a glimpse of him shirtless. It was the amount of tokens needed that amazed you, it was so high. Seriously, from your little time on the website, you could see this was a bit too self assured. But he was getting there. You clicked the video, morbid curiosity taking over. This and his username of thicktexanbeercan. A man after your own heart.

People flood in, apparently the red color of their usernames means they're part of a fan club? You wanna learn more, so you click through the whole thing. The "cam boy" or "cam man" or whatever you were supposed to call him was just welcoming people. There were other newbies like you because you were half-listening to him explaining about his mic.

"You can hear me so clearly cause I have it clipped to my neck on a fucking chocker. Which you guys should've let die in the 90s btw." You're looking at his tags of #monster cock, #daddy, #master and #orgasmguide. And when someone voices your thought of "some of us weren't even born in the 90s." you found out why. He reads it out and snorts.

"Look at you, so young and already a pathetic little pervert watching older men. What, daddy didn't love you enough, babydoll? So now you gotta come here at night and tune into me stroking my cock for you. Wishing you were on your knees, trying to take it in your bratty little mouth?". The donations explode. The sound effects of coins reverberate through your headphones. The goal is met and the stream has been on for only 15 minutes. You can't see him smile, but you can feel it, by the way his shoulders relax.

"You're such a good girl tonight, spoiling your old man. So needy, already wanting me to take off my clothes. I will, little slut, just let daddy take care of something first." He rolls his chair to the desk and takes his keyboard. You chuckle at the faded and yellowed stickers on it, they vaguely reminded you of something. The man can touch type and you've never wanted to be a pair of keys more in your life. The goal's adjusted, promising whipped cream on his chest. As he fiddles with the camera angles and wonders aloud how to best give you a show, you hover to his bio tab. The man intrigues you. Under real name, he put “Can't tell you, but my screen name is a pun”, so you guess it's Bud or even Sam Addams. His age is listed as late 40s, and when you see a glimpse of his salt and pepper chest hair, it makes sense.

This guy intrigues you. Instead of rubbing one out, you're scrolling further. There's pictures and videos. While there's one of him wearing assless chaps for free (which quickly gets saved to your phone gallery), the rest is behind a paywall. Videos of him cumming or even simple things like doing push-ups. Your palms are itching and you know your payday is coming soon. But before you end up buying a filthy mp4, you go back to the stream.

Somehow, he had made taking off a flannel sexy. Rubbing his fingers against his chest. Touching his happy trail. Then someone in the chat asked, "How much to see the good stuff?" He reads it out, chuckles, and presses a few keys, making a tip menu appear in the chat. It has the usual stuff, promises of flashing his cock or flexing his biceps. C2C and PMs (which you had learned stood for cam to cam and private messages). Then, was the more personal stuff. Nudes rating (5 photos), praise, degradation, ddlg. He clearly knew what people wanted. Was it what he craved as well, you wondered? Then came "the goods" the other person was probably talking about. Jerking off, cumming, even using a vibrator or a fleshlight on himself.

You wondered how long it would take to see the self-described "thicktexanbeercan.". But thanks to someone just as horny as you, if not more, it would be almost immediately. When the tip for "jerking off" came through, he said the person's username and then asked, "How do I thank you, using my southern charm or Austin dirtbag style?"

When the person replied with "dirtbag style," also my pronouns are she/they."he presumably glanced at the message. Probably keeping eye contact with the camera, he reaches for his belt.

"Thank you for being horny, I guess. Desperate little thing, that doesn't like to wait. Impatient darling, needing to see daddy pump his cock for you. Gonna show you exactly what you wanna see, baby.". The belt is on the ground and his jeans are around his ankles. Never did you think that a guy simply taking off his pants would be so hot. Your gaze trails from his delicious thighs to his boxers. Holy shit, even by his outline you can tell that his username isn't an exaggeration.

He pulls it out and it's the prettiest and biggest cock you've ever seen. His hand wraps around it, one slow pump he thrust into, back arching. Then he folds one arm behind his head and turns straight into the camera. You like the mystery, but wish he would show his face. His voice is breathy, he obviously likes what he's doing. And his thrusts are speeding up.

His chat is going crazy, tokens pouring in.

"You like what you see, huh? Bet you're aching to touch yourself, too. Go on, spread your pretty legs for me, and give me a show, too.". Before you know it, you're following his instructions. Pajama pants quickly pulled down, you touch yourself. And God damn, are you wet. You're fucking dripping, for this stranger on the internet. You don't have time to be embarrassed. You trail a finger against your opening, gathering the slick. Then you touch your clit, rubbing it slow and then gradually speeding up. But it's so much more intense, it's fucking electric. You glance at the clock on your phone. Look back at the man on the stream, his chest, his cock. And in a minute you're cumming. Eyes closed, pussy getting tighter and clenching around nothing orgasm. You close the stream, mortified. You go to bed and have the best sleep of your life.

By the next stream, you have an account, and you follow him. He acknowledges that, and you're tempted to already start touching yourself. But it's a Friday night, you've promised yourself that weekends are for yourself. Seeing that you pushed for Saturdays off, one would think you'd need to be up, bright and early, and going somewhere. But not this time. You had planned a slow day, where you catch up on laundry and read. But before the weekend was this. You caught on to today's stream a bit too late. Your cowboy (a middle-aged man that probably didn't know you existed) was already shirtless. He had a loofah and a mug filled with water next to him.

"One of y'all suggested I try temporary tattoos. Now, I had to go to the grocery store and get weird looks as I pumped quarters in a machine. So you better enjoy them. Or actually, if I find good ones online, I'm adding them to the wishlist.". He moves off camera and holds up two sheets of temporary tattoos, very tribal and barbed wire inspired. The other is surprisingly butterflies and unicorns.

He unbuttons his pants and lowers his boxers. You can see just the tip, straight as a ram rod. You can't help but wonder if he gets off on being watched. Your head gets filled with fantasies of him and you. Embarrassingly you're picturing him pulling out his pecker in a mundane place like Walmart and fucking you in the aisles. Maybe you just need to do better groceries, you think looking at the takeout bag from the restaurant you just spent 8 hours in. There were enough chicken nuggets in there to feed a family. You get your mind back in the gutter when the performer moans. You stare at the screen. His torso is covered in the temporary tattoo, and he's strategically placed the barbed wire around his nipples. As he drags the wet loofah against his pelvis, he groans.

"God, this is cold. Wish you were here, to warm up my cock. With your mouth or cunt or ass. Filling you so well."

This time, you come before he's even pulled out his dick. Yet you keep watching. A second orgasm gets squeezed out of you later, with the help of your dildo. When "beercan" reaches a crazy tip goal, he fucks his fleshlight. He's merciless, using the pocket pussy like a cocksleeve, whispering the most obscene stuff.

"You like that? You like it when daddy fucks you like this. Of course you do. You're so tight for me, yet you take my big cock so well. Trained you well, didn't I? Made my own little whore, that needs my cum. Beg for it.". And you do, miles away from this stranger. You orgasm with him, sex toy deep inside of you. He cums and makes the stream watch as he cleans the fleshlight with the same loofah he used earlier.

That stream basically breaks you. For some reason two intense orgasm equal a very productive day then. You're a new person. You study and work better and no longer need to fuck yourself to sleep. That you stranger whose name is Bud or Sam Addams or Miller. Not that you drink the latter anyway, so it never crosses your mind. After all, Joel is older, in his mid 50s. But what he's not above is lying on the internet. Using the world wide web to show his nasty bits to the world. And what he'd soon realize is that his best friend's daughter isn't too.

After finishing your masters thesis, you come to the harrowing reality that there's no jobs for you here. And then comes your dad's constant pestering to come home. You reject him at first. There's nothing left for you in Texas anymore, besides the family house. But then, a former high school mentor posts a job opening on their Instagram story. And it's perfect for you, aside from the fact it's in Austin. You off handedly mention it to your parents, after immediately applying. You don't expect to get it. But with interviews and all, you do. They even allow you to start a bit later, making sure you work off your part-time job shifts.

So you take the plunge and buy plane tickets. There's only one problem. The flight is so early that you'd practically have to leave your empty apartment at 4 in the morning. So you decide to pull an allnighter. You're not sure how you end up back on the chat room site. You don't even know if "thicktexanbeercan" still cams. But as you click on the page, you get a notification that he's in a live show. Feeling bold tonight, you know you wanna be a bit more adventurous. Call it what you will, but you need a shake-up. After so much uncertainty, you need to do something so out of character.

You feel the money in your pocket burns a hole in it. Yes, packing your stuff and sending it back wasn't cheap. Nor was the last-minute plane ticket (even with Spirit airlines). But you had sold a lot of your things, gotten your rental deposit back, and got your days off comped as overtime. So you were, technically, on the flipside. Now, responsible people would put that into savings. You were spending it on tokens. You wanted to be seen. So you tipped for "nudes review." Truth is, ever since your last partner in freshman year of college, it was a string of bad hookups and boring first dates. No one had seen you naked in a while. But that didn't mean you didn't have nudes. Nope, you liked taking shots of yourself in compromising positions. After all, your pretty lingerie deserved to be shown off.

So you mindlessly sent over 4 shots via the opened pm option. He moves a large IPad in front of his face to obscure it. His ever-present cowboy hat is moved to his head as he stares at your pictures. He strokes his cock, at his usual fast pace.

"Jesus fuck, darling, aren't you a treasure. Look at that ass, so perky. It would look good in red, after I'm done with you. Let's see the next one, oh, you're doing the hand bra thing. Need someone to fondle your tits, huh. Don't worry, I'd grope them for you. Put my mouth on them, tease your sensitive nipples. Fuck, let's see the third. Damn, you're stark fucking naked. What a little whore you are, showing me everything. Don't know if I wanna think about your boobs again or your hips or your pussy. Might just stick around and look at it. Only one more, okay. Fuck, that's my favorite one, doll. Even though you should've been more careful. You forgot to crop out your face. I can see your needy expression as you're rubbing your clit. Hand in your lacy black panties, must have been a special night. Who in their right mind would have let you go instead of fucking you right against the mirror you're using as a prop. Don't worry, I'll make it right. I'll give you a tribute, right here. How's that sound, darling? You want this old man to cover your photo with his cum in front of thousands of people?".

Any fear or shame you've had is long gone. You don't only want that, you need it. You type a "please, daddy" in the chat. His groan fills your headphones. He fumbles, balancing his hat on his nose. For the first time, you see a glimpse of his face. His tongue wets his lips as he zooms on the iPad, making sure that others only see from your chest down. He jerks his cock over it, painting his screen with spurts of his cum.

"That was intense, think I'll put you on hold for a bit. It's been a while since a first orgasm drained me like that. Daddy will be back soon." He says and pauses the broadcast. Truth is, his cock would be hard again in a minute. It was the fact that he came to you that was haunting him. His best friend's daughter. A girl who was younger than his niece. A woman who was coming back to Texas after leaving as a 19 year old. Then you were still awkward and Joel would never look at you twice. You were a child, for God's sake. But now, some years later you had shed your baby face. You were a fucking bombshell. And he was about to implode.

After a whirlwind rest of the stream, you go to the airport and catch your flight. Despite being a full-grown adult, your parents insist on picking you up. You're back in your childhood bedroom, surrounded by boxes of your new life. You notice that some stuff from before is missing.

"Hey dad, where's the old blueetoth keyboard we bought when the laptop was on the fritz? Might need it for work." You ask. You're sure you can easily write down notes on your phone or on paper. But there was something satisfying about hooking up your old iPad to a keyboard and typing. Maybe it's the fact that it got you through college twice that has you feeling sentimental. Maybe it's the truth that your parents didn't know you bought it, and now you had to use it daily to justify spending money on it. Either way, your dad replied with

"Oh, I gave that to Joel. He said he was starting some new call center job and needed it. Working on European projects, so he's always busy at night. Must pay a pretty penny, he's always got packages on his doorstep. You should see his new pickup truck too, she's a beauty." Your father said.

"Didn't need the whole prologue, dad. Can you just get it back?" You ask.

"Now come on honey, you're a grown woman. You can go over and ask him yourself. He's not gonna eat you." Your dad insists, and you have to agree. With a resigned "At least text him and tell him I'm on the way.", you go. There's no use arguing. You can not explain to your dad that when you were 19, you wanted nothing more than Joel taking your virginity. That now, years after, you still wouldn't mind a sip of that can of Miller.

One of the reasons your dad and Joel were friends was the fact that you could get to the latter's house in about 15 minutes. You're there in less, ringing the doorbell and waiting. Joel emerges in a moss green bathrobe and grey sweatpants. His hair is tousled, and it's obvious that he was sleeping. You'd feel bad if he didn't greet you with a

"What the fuck do you want, I ain't buying anything. Oh. It's you. Hey, kiddo.". Your eyes go to the mat on his front porch, but not before taking in his cock. Was he hard? Had you interrupted an intimate moment? You mumble something about "wireless keyboard" and "borrowing it back, please" when he leads you in. If he had a lady friend, she was as quiet as a church mouse.

"It's in the guest room. Had to convert into a sort of home office, after getting a desk job, so many years as a contractor. Got hard on my back. Wanted to enjoy doing nothing, then Sara got knocked up again. Just like Tommy, both of them can't stop having kids. So now I have to be rich gruncle Joel. And I don't know why I'm telling you this instead of just getting the keyboard." He says. Joel pops in, but he doesn't close the door all the way. Peeking in through the hole, it seems familiar. Like you've seen it before, but recently. You shrug off the deja vu and take the keyboard from him. But as he hands it to you, familiar stickers facing you, you piece it together.

"Thicktexanbeercan" had the same one. And you recognized it because you "decorated" it as a sticker obsessed teen. There was no way. Mr. Miller was not camming. You had not orgasmed to him dirty talking to you. And most importantly, he had not come all over a photo of your tits. It was just a huge, cosmic coincidence. But there was only one way to find out.

The wait until your first paycheck was too long, yet you had to endure. There is no way you were taking money out of your savings to fulfill possibly Joel's wishlist. So when that sum hit your bank account, you expertly navigated to thicktexanbeercan's page. Clicking on the shop icon, you choose to ignore that the man is selling his nudes, his underwear, and his socks. Though tempted by the Polaroids of his cock, you move on. You buy the custom temporary tattoos, a callback to a previous stream. Your pussy twitches at the memory and you're quick to suppress your urges. You send your "requirements" to the Amazon seller and hope they get them ready soon. You also secretly order some for yourself, shipping them to a friend's house. You start tuning into the streams regularly, watching them all the way through. Your coworkers have the grace to not comment. Especially since the nightly nsfw is always in the background of something else. So you're doing research on one screen, while listening to maybe Joel call you a nasty whore for watching him.

TGIF was never your thing, until this one. Your cowboy walked in with a package, his address dutifully scribbled out. He opens it and out comes the sheet of temporary tattoos.

"Oh, someone's been watching me for some time, huh. Can't get enough of me inked. Well, I aim to please, so let's get this show on the road.". Beercan undresses to his boxers and starts examining the tattoos.

"Whoever picked these out is one creative motherfucker. I like them.". He starts showing them off to the camera, chuckling about the "save a horse, ride a cowboy" and subsequently the "don't ride a horse, but I'm hung like one". But one in particular makes him tick.

"Your throat goes here? Really, sweetheart? You expect me to walk around with that, to make you all see it as I stroke my cock for you? Fuck it, it's my job to give you a good show." He peels off two of those and places them on the space between his thumb and pointer finger. Was he? He was. Thicktexanbeercan was gonna live up to his name, by using both hands to jerk off.

He's fast, wanting this to end. His Friday shows weren't that popular, so no use milking it. Now, on Saturdays, that's when most people tune in. It's better to save his stamina for then. But you and the chat had other plans. You had mobilized them as he was busy answering questions earlier. Now, he would get enough tokens for a cumshot. Maybe Joel really aims to please. So he goes for it, double orgasm, sure. Then, as soon as that one's over, another. He barks at the chat that he doesn't like being bossed around like that. But you have him cumming until he's shooting blanks. After he just shuts off the stream and goes to bed after running a wet towel on his stomach, to wipe off the cum.

Less than 8 hours later, there's a constant ring of his doorbell. He opens and you're standing there, looking so fuckable his cock stands to attention. You're wearing a skimpy outfit and your lips are shiny with a pinkish gloss. But that doesn't stop him from wondering why you're gracing his doorstep like an angel sent straight from hell.

“I need help picking out a present for my dad.” You say.

“Sweetpea, I know you've been away for a while, but that doesn't change the fact that your dad's birthday isn't for months.” he replies.

"I know. It's not for that. I fucked up and broke something of his. Can you help me?" You ask.

"Sure, what do you need from me?" He counters.

"I think I wanna be stereotypical and get him something stereotypically dad-like. Like a craft beer, something he can crack open with the boys. And since you're "the boys," I'm here. Need a recommendation for a thick Texan beercan." You watch him react. He twitches like a rabbit spooked by a stick snapping.

"So you know. But I'm sure your parents wouldn't be thrilled by the fact that you're watching porn. Have you ever donated, I wonder. Bought something with their hard earned money. Straight from your father's wallet to your daddy." Joel counters, not missing the way your eyes glaze over when he calls yourself your daddy. But you are not won over so easily.

"You're a liar. Late 40s, my ass. Late 40s when you last had to change your ID or what? I could expose you. I'm sure the girlies and the rest watching you would love to know they were scammed. Tinder swindler, but worse."

"What do you want?" He tries.

"As Lana del Rey said, put me in the movie. Let me be in a video." You demand.

"Come back at night, around 9. Get something to cover your face too. Don't need someone recognizing you." He says.

You follow his instructions like an obedient puppy. You make up excuses to your parents. Your cunt's shaved, your outfit is complete and you're not wearing underwear. Joel drags you in, literally. He looks at the pink cowboy hat you have in hand and chuckles.

"No saying my name, preferably not saying much. Just follow my lead, and I'll make you feel good. If you wanna stop, what do you say?" He lists clinically.

"Light beer," you say, acknowledging the pun behind his moniker. You should've figured this out way earlier.

He half laughs, half looks disappointed at your bad pun. You know he's gonna get you back for this , sooner or later. You just desperately hope it's with his dick.

Joel starts the stream. He makes you sit in his chair as he gets a bit closer to the camera. You can see him, mic clipped to chocker and all. He speaks to his chat, introducing you as a "special cowgirl guest.".

"Bet you all wanna take her place. I'm sure she can tell you all about it. If she can speak after I'm done with her anyway." He continues. You wanna protest, to bite back with a comment. But he crawls between your legs, placing kisses up to your pussy. And you are speechless. The fact that you can see him, dark brown eyes and gorgeous roman nose is too much. He's even revealing the top of his greying hair. You grip it and bring him closer to your center. He chooses to lick and suck your clit instead and you moan so loud, even the felt of your hat doesn't muffle it.

"Gonna make you extra wet so you can take my cock, doll. Would you like that?" He asks and you reply with "yes, daddy". You can hear him extra crisp, the audio bouncing around the room. It's all too much, every fantasy of yours coming to life. You come against him, riding it out.

"You ready for more, my little fuckdoll? Can I?" He asks. You plead, you tell him you need him.

Joel makes sure to zoom the camera to your sopping cunt, showing you off to the chat. He fiddles with it, making sure it captures your greed. He sits on the chair, swatting your ass to get you up. Legs trembling, you do. He unzips his jeans, the sound as familiar to you as a notification on your phone. He puts it against you, just to give his viewers a preview on how deep he was gonna be in you.

"You think I'll fuck her up. Make this pussy memorize the shape of my cock. Let's give this pretty doll her first cervix bruising, shall I?" He says. He slides his cock in you in one swoop motion, not caring about the stretch.

"Just like that." You moan, dangerously close to saying his name. Joel spreads your legs and fucks into you. He's all grunts and swears, gone is his dirty talk. His hands are grabby, squeezing your thighs. He's so pussy whipped that he says

"Let me come inside you. Please. Need to.". The "yes, yes, daddy" is enough for him to do so and continue thrusting in you until he's soft. Joel rolls the chair forward, "manually zooming" his camera. His audience gets a pretty shot of his cum dripping out of you before the broadcast cuts out. He helps you up and draws a bath. If the camming paid for the clawfoot tub you saw, hell you'd join in more.

"You know, what we did was wrong. But it sure as hell felt right. I'm not saying we should do this daily. But maybe instead of both of us getting off on each other from afar, we can do it together." He asks, almost a schoolboy confession.

“Yes Joel, I wanna fuck you again too. Now shut and let me enjoy my life after taking your thick Texan beercan.”

#dbf!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #the last of us smut #dbf!joel x reader #dbf!joel smut

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starrrlights · 5 months ago

Text

Two Sides of a Coin

alt!TimeBomb x reader

A/n: Ekko's uni! reader is a firelight. Fem!reader. a mix of ekko's pov and third person. Dialog is accreate to the show, but then I gave up halfway.

Also, thanks for all the likes on my Vi post, 🫶🏻

And if anything seems out of place or funky, just tell me and I will fix it. Tumblr has been kicking my butt with my drafts.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

He could feel the hairs on his neck practically stand when he looked around. It was Zaun, yes, but it was oh so different. And not in a way that it had gotten worse or had different people in it. No, it was better, cleaner, brighter.

Ekko was definitely not supposed to be here, but he was, and he was damn sure that he just saw one of the dead firelights walk around.

He had his book out with drawings of the Arcane out, pencil markings of the circular ball of magic spreading multiple times over the span of a page. He wasn't even sure if it was his own hand drawing them. His hands were so clean and more fresh looking than his own back in his original universe, not to mention the green suit he was wearing. Definitely not something he could be caught wearing back home.

His leg bounced nervously, watching carefully with his surroundings, but mostly Vander and Benzo. oh Benzo, it he could hug him again he would, and again and again. the old man was like a father figure to him basically, and the fact that the was alive here made him feel sick and jealous. jealous of the world that could've been his but wasn't.

it was until Powder snapped him out of his thoughts again, her pale fingers snapping in front of his face. He looked at her with wide eyes, it was like he didn't even recognize her.

"Hey, spaceboy, I'm not talking to myself over here."

Ekko couldn't help but look back down at his book and look back at her, straightening his composure.

"What is up with you? You've been out of it all day."

"... I feel like, I woke in the wrong universe."

Ekko glanced at his book again, the mindless drawing of the Arcane roughly drawn over words that he couldn't care less to read right now.

"This is what happens when you stay up all night. Those synapses start firing around like drunk slugs."

Powder said jokingly, but Ekko looked back at Vander and Benzo, who were talking amongst themselves at the bar. Vander leaning over behind it and Benzo sitting in one of the seats.

"there's still plenty of time before the competition, okay? Plus, toots will help us work out the kinks. we've got you."

Powder put out her hand reassuringly on Ekko's forearm, but Ekko flinched away, still under the haze and shock of what was happening to him right now. Could it be the sickest and worst nightmare he was having right now? Or was it actually happening. He couldn't tell the difference.

A cup that was next to Powder tilted over from the sudden flinch, spilling over onto the table. Ekko put his hand to his head as a weird headache came on, making him feel woozy and dizzy. Powder looked at Ekko almost weirded out and confused. Her brows furrowed down in thought before she picked up the cup.

"Ah, if it isn't Zaun's royalties. My liege"

Powder watched Ekko as he stood up with a shocked expression on his face, keeping his eyes on the owner of the voice and the people around them.

The owner of the voice was from Mylo, and the right of him was Claggor. They looked different. Mylo had grown facial hair and Claggor was even larger than before, now practically Vander's height if not shorter. It wasn't until Ekko looked at the (h/c) girl when his heart almost stopped. It was (Reader), his closest best friend and co-leader of the Firelights. She looked different, a good different.

She looked healthier, cleaner, and livelier, almost like she had never fought anyone before physically, at least. You looked like how he would want you to be if you had never gotten into the mess you had called life back home.

Powder shook her head and chuckled at Mylo's teasing before nodded down to the chairs next to her.

"Sit down."

"Hey, hey, little man. Trouble in paradise?"

Claggor moved to the seat nearest to the wall that the table was tall table was next to. Ekko watches him in disbelief, watching as Mylo sat down as well, before looking at you.

"Just the usual project woes."

"Tell me about it."

Claggor said sarcastically before you chimed in.

"I'll be able to help tonight before the competition like I said I would. I'll also bring extra coffee this time."

you joked, thinking about the last time you helped the duo and ended up passing out with either limbs or heads laying on each other before the night was over.

Claggor explained the problems with his machine to the group as you stood behind Ekko and Powder, putting one hand on Powder's shoulder and moved your other hand to do the same with Ekko's before Powder stopped you. You gave her a confused look and she shrugged, mumbling something about how Ekko was a little jumpy today.

It was a little bit before the Inventors Competition too, so it was probably just jitters before the big thing if the gadget that Powder and Ekko had been working on if it would work or not. You could understand that.

Everyone looked at Mylo as he brushed back his eyebrows, giving knowing looks and head shakes. Everyone in the group knew of Mylo's crush on Gert, if he wasn't so obvious about it enough. Claggor shook his head before looking at Powder.

"I'll be right back."

"Oh no. Go, save him from himself."

Powder nodded, as you gave her a shoulder squeeze, giving her a 'good luck' smile. She gave a thankful one back and took your hand in hers, giving it a squeeze before walking over to where Mylo was making a fool out of himself.

Your gaze looked back at Ekko, looking at him the same, warm way you had done for Powder. He did look really tense today, and something about that didn't set right with you. The look in his eyes just, wasn't him; not really anyway.

Without hesitation, you put a hand on Ekko's shoulder. He flinched away from your touch, as he had with Powder, and looked at you freaked out.

Your hand went back to his shoulder a little more firmer, giving him a worried look.

"Are you alright, Ekko? You're really jumpy today."

You could see the slight movement of Ekko's neck as he gulped, eyes softening but flicking back and forth from you to the table and back. Your hand moved to his back, just where the collar of his suit is, rubbing the area affectionately.

"I'm alright, just tired from staying all night."

He said nervously, referencing what Powder had said to him, but mostly what he mostly caught to in that conversation. He glanced at Powder and Mylo, who were talking to the waitress, probably bugging her or something.

"..just, get some rest before the competition then, yeah? I'm sure you'll be better by then."

And by that, you gave Ekko a kiss on the hairline and walked over to Powder and Mylo to join in on the teasing that was happening; leaving a shocked and surprised Ekko behind.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

You and powder ended up working on the gadget as Ekko was with, what was his name... Hemindiger? He was an odd little fellow, quite... whimsical in your opinion. Always going around with smart inventions and his little ukulele.

It hurt a little when Ekko changed plans so quickly, and so close to the competition when there were still some kinks to smooth out. At least Powder was with you, even if it wasn't the same.

You tightened a bolt that had loosened during a test run, turning it around to make sure everything looked good before glancing at Powder. who definitely looked good.

She was currently twirling around a piece of chalk as she stared at the many drawings and words on the chalkboard. Her hair was tied back into french braids with her bangs sprawled put everywhere from her hands running so much through them, but were now mostly gathered to one side of her face, giving it a side bang look.

It looked really good on her.

As if she had some sort of pulling device on you, you slowly got up from your chair and carefully set the gadget down. You crept up behind her and gently wrapped your arms around her torso, placing your chin on her shoulder.

Powder looked at you from the corner of her eye and smiled, leaning her head on yours. The calm silence made you close your eyes, pulling her into you a little bit more.

The creak of some floor boards got your attention, as well as Powder's. You both looked over to the culprit, who was a wide-eyed Ekko.

Was he still shaken up? It's late now. Maybe the competition being so close to ate is messing with him. Sure, he was a sweetheart, and could sassy at times; but he wasn't this bug eyed for this long.

"Hey."

You and Powder both said, dropping your arms around her so you both could walk towards Ekko, a hurt expression still lingered on her face. You looked at her worriedly, then back at Ekko with the same expression.

"What is up with you today? You're still jumpy, and not the usual nervous kind or anything."

"Not to mention this morning."

Ekko's eyes shifted as if he was hiding something, and you were 100% sure he was. You didn't want to push too hard, in case it was something personal, in that case you would understand. But some context clue on what was happening would be good.

"Um,.. it's nothing. I just woke up from a bad dream, I'm just worked up about it still."

Was he nervous because he was lying through his teeth, or was he nervous because that was the truth? You couldn't tell, but you needed to drop it for the sake of getting anything done tonight.

A sigh left your nose as you looked at Ekko, noticing his gaze softening just a bit under yours. A weak smile stretched on your lips as you wrapped your arm around Powder's shoulders and reached out to do the same with Ekko's.

"Come'on, we gotta fix the damn thing before the competition before anyone else becomes more jumpy or stressed."

Ekko didn't flinch away from your touch, but tensed a little, letting you pull him with you to the table along with Powder. A warm feeling washed over his skin, the same feeling of when you would touch him in his home universe, a touch that he hadn't realized he needed in this moment until now.

He wanted to freeze this moment and bathe in the ways of this universe works. The way that you looked better (in a healthier way), and the way that Powder was happier.

Ekko's gaze went to Powder, and caught her gaze. but before she could look away, he gave her a sorry smile, as if to say: 'sorry for this morning'.

Powder gave him a warm smile in return.

In the back if his head, Ekko couldn't help but feel as if that smile was wrong, in a sense. He has seen Powder smile all of the time as kids in his home universe, but when she became Jinx, he hasn't seen a warm smile from her since.

But this, this was nice, Ekko had decided.

And he wouldn't mind staying a little longer here with you and Powder.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

(Bonus scene)

"-and then she kissed me! well, on the head but still!"

Ekko had been ranting about his day, to the second when he gained consciousness in this universe. About how Powder never became Jinx, how Zaun was different. How everything was different.

Hemindiger couldn't help but chuckle, he had been in this universe for how long, and had already went through the shock that Ekko was going through, in different ways of course.

"Well, boy, it's because you're dating."

Ekko's eyes grew wide at the older man's words.

Dating?

You?

Heat flushed his neck at the thought and cleared his throat. Yeah, he really liked you back home, but dating here? Practically a dream come true almost.

"...Is that so?"

"Quite yes, and you both with Powder as well."

...

As well?

The realization popped up in Ekko's head. You were giving Powder looks that no friend should give to their friend. The same way you looked at him as will her. But it didn't mean his body didn't get warmer at the thought of all three of you dating each other.

Who would've thought that a alternative version of him was getting with both of his dream girls.

#x reader #ekko x reader x jinx #ekko x reader #jinx x reader #arcane #arcane x reader #timebomb x reader #timebomb #ekko x reader x powder #ekko x powder #powder x reader

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obiwansito · 2 months ago

Text

made by ourselves

read on ao3 ʚĭɞ masterlist

pairing- obi wan x f!reader

word count- 2.8k

summary- after babysitting padme and anakin's twins, obi-wan and you discuss the possibility of having children. and the fun part, making them.

tags- smut (+18 mdni), breeding kink, cockwarming, order 66 didn't happen, fluff.

a/n- happy late mother's day!!! i posted this back in my (failed) kinktober on ao3 and figured it would be a good moment to post it here lol. enjoy<3

You had talked about this not so long ago with your fiancé.

You were both in bed, after a tiring day taking care of Luke and Leia, Anakin and Padmé's four-year-old children. The couple had decided to take a day off, and the two of you volunteered to babysit the little devils while their parents rested on a nearby vacation planet.

You had taken the children to the meadows of Naboo, where you had a picnic.

Luke was calmer, listening to everything you told him and eating quietly at your side. It was obvious that he was very much like Padmé, his beloved mom. He told you about his latest adventures with his Aunt Soka, and all that his dad was teaching him about the force.

On the other side, there was Leia. A very mischievous and playful little girl, and really, really stubborn. She had Obi-Wan running all over the meadow, laughing and teasing. Her personality was a mirror image of Anakin.

You had laughed when your fiancé finally sat back down next to you, his hair disheveled and his breathing accelerated from exhaustion. Leia didn't look worn out at all, and she pulled Luke - who groaned but followed her anyway - to show him some flowers she had found.

Obi-Wan had seen your smile looking at those beautiful children, and he didn't miss the opportunity that night to mention it.

You were lying next to him, your head on his bare chest, tracing little shapes on his abdomen. He stroked your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. “ Dear?”

You looked up, finding a smile on his face. “Yes, love?”

“Have you thought about having children?” your heart jumped at the sudden question.

Had you thought about having children? Absolutely. Since you were still in the order, the war wouldn't start and you were assigned to take care of the little younglings. Those intelligent little ones, who made you laugh with their tenderness and affection. And when you had begun to be with Obi-Wan, those desires had increased even more. But at that moment, it was practically impossible. Your relationship was secret and prohibited by the Jedi Code. The good thing was that you had decided to take a step back from that life four years ago now, and you could now have a normal life.

“The truth? Yes.” You sighed, feeling a warmth in your chest. “I think it's always been one of my biggest dreams.”

“I saw the way you looked at Luke and Leia today.”

You laughed softly. “They're wonderful little guys.”

“And...wouldn't you like to have your own?”

You looked into his eyes, your heart racing. You could feel in your bond that he was nervous. “Obi-Wan. What are you implying?”

He sat up in bed, trying to hold back his smile. “Today, when we were playing with the children... I could feel your excitement. Your maternal instinct. You... you'd make a great mother, my dear.” You blushed a little at his praise. “And obviously, I've always known that. But now I realized...we're not in the order anymore. We can be free, darling.”

He took your hand, helping you sit on the bed beside him, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “We can start a family. Have a baby. Just ours.”

Your breath hitched as you listened to his plans. A family. Just of you. Obi-Wan, you, and a little baby. It sounded perfect.

“My love...” You didn't know what to say. You rested your hands on his cheeks, drawing him in to bring your foreheads together. “It's... everything I've ever dreamed of. Nothing would make me happier than to have a family with you.”

Obi-Wan laughed excitedly, grabbing you by the waist to join your lips in a slow, soulful kiss. Wanting to convey to you everything he was feeling at this moment.

He took you in his arms, letting you straddle his lap. You rested your hands on his cheeks, enjoying the feel of his beard against your skin.

When you had to separate for lack of air, you pressed your foreheads together, trying to calm your breathing and giggling like two little kids. You were so excited. Your eyes were sparkling with anticipation. He couldn't wait for the moment when you would be with a round belly, full of life that he had helped you create.

“As much as I'd like to start trying to create a baby now,” he began, gently caressing your waist over the t-shirt you were wearing. “The kids wore me out. Kriff, Leia's a little monster. No one's made me run that hard since Anakin was a kid.”

You laughed, leaving a small kiss on his lips. “Hopefully, I can tell you that maybe our child won't be as troublemaking as Ani's.”

“Mmm... I'm not sure about that. I'll have to ask Master Plo what you were like as a little girl to confirm that.”

You gave him a little tap on the shoulder. “Oh, no. Don't even think about it.”

In the end, in between teasing, you ended up sound asleep in each other's arms.

You were truly living your dream. You were free at last. Nothing was perfect, obviously. But at least you had each other, and the world could know of your love. That was the most important thing.

Almost a week passed, you had both been busy with your jobs and household chores, but today was the day. You had planned a special evening with your beloved, and it would end with both of you in bed.

You prepared Obi-Wan's favorite meal, and made Meiloorun cake for dessert. You dined while you chatted lightly. Your gazes constantly connected, full of complicity and laughter.

When you finished, he got up to pick up the dishes and gave you a kiss of thanks. “That was delicious, darling. Thank you so much. However... I should ask, what was the occasion? Not that we need one to enjoy an evening together, but you understand.”

You laughed, nodding. “Yes, I understand. And... It's a surprise.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? And when do I get to find out?”

You stood up, stroking his beard. “Soon.” You stood on tiptoe to kiss him, he tasted of the wine you'd had at dinner. You bit his lower lip before pulling away and winking at him. “When you're free, come see me in our room.”

And off you went, leaving him with his mind a mess. Kriff, better hurry. He washed the dishes at full speed, making sure everything was in order to finally go to the room.

His heart was beating like crazy, he was trying to decipher something with your force bond but you were hiding it very well.

He opened the door, his breath hitching as he discovered your expected surprise.

You were lying on the bed, red lingerie adorned your body. And upon it, his Jedi robe. You smiled seductively at him, motioning for him to come closer.

Obi-Wan walked towards you slowly, as you rose, kneeling on the bed. He grabbed your waist, his eyes devouring you. The fabric of your bra was semi-transparent, and he could feel your nipples erect with excitement.

“So? What do you think?”

“You look... perfect.” He whispered, his gaze riveted on your beautiful body. His hands caressed your hips, your waist, moving up until his thumbs caressed your breasts, making you moan slightly. “Where did you get the cloak?”

“It was stored in an old box.” You shrugged. “I remember how much you used it...” Your breath hitched at the warmth of his hands on your body.

You posed your arms around his neck, pulling him close for a wet, hungry kiss. His tongue entering your mouth, tasting you.

You rose fully off the bed, now standing next to him, his big hands massaging your ass. Your hands worked on unbuttoning his shirt, pulling you apart to give him kisses on his neck. He moved his head aside to give you more room, feeling his cock harden from the way you were devouring his neck.

You shed the cloak, leaving only the small lingerie covering your body. You kissed him once more on the lips, smiling at him before kneeling in front of him, your eyes never leaving his. You were now level with his growing bulge. You licked your lips, eager to have his cock in your mouth.

Obi-Wan blushed, running his hands through your hair. “You know you don't have to, my dear.”

“But I want to. Let me please you, Obi-Wan."

He exhaled sharply, his eyes darkened by the lust he was feeling at that moment. Seeing you so excited to have him in your mouth brought out something inside him that was hard to control. “All right, baby. Do it.”

You unbuckled his belt, dropping his pants. Obi-Wan's cock was hard in his briefs, the fabric wet with pre-cum. You licked your lips, pulling down the last remaining piece of his sturdy body, freeing his erect member.

It was large, not gigantic, but longer than most. And wide, wide enough to have you begging him to have it all in you. You took it between your hands, stroking the tip with your thumb, filling your hand with pre-cum to lubricate it. Obi-Wan squirmed under your touch. You laughed a little, moving your hand slowly over his length. You brought it to your mouth, sucking on the glans and releasing it with a pop.

Obi-Wan gripped your hair a little firmly, but not that firmly because he didn't want to hurt you. “Stop teasing.” You looked up, searching his eyes. He was breathless, his mouth slightly open. It was a beautiful sight.

You lowered your head down his entire length, taking him slowly until you had him all in your mouth, his tip almost touching the beginning of your throat. Obi-Wan moaned slightly, which made you stir slightly, your center soaking wet.

You pulled back, licking his entire length and tip, as you moved your hand up and down masturbating him.

“Darling-” He murmured as you took him again with your mouth, making him let out another sigh of pleasure. “You're doing so well, love.”

His grip on your hair grew tighter, your lips wrapping deliciously around its full length. He was getting impatient, and you loved that.

He began moving your head up and down, using you for pleasure, all the while whispering praise. “That's my baby. You're doing it perfect. Yes... It feels so good.”

Obi-Wan was not shy. He moaned openly, enjoying your mouth. You closed your thighs, trying to cause friction on your needy clit.

You felt his breathing quicken, his orgasm was coming. “Oh, Maker. Kriff, Darling, I-” You moaned against his cock, his hand guiding your head. “Wait-”

He pulled you roughly, his cum splashing on your face. The sensation and the sounds they made excited you more, as you tried to catch your breath.

You stood there for a few seconds with your breathing quickened, processing what had just happened. Then, Obi-Wan knelt down in front of you, taking your face in his hands. “My dear. Are you all right? I didn't mean to be rough with you.”

You laughed lightly. “Don't worry, love.”

“You were amazing. That was... Maker. That was perfect, love.”

He scooped up the cum on your face with his thumb, resting it in front of your lips. “Open up, darling.”

You obeyed immediately, savoring his scent. You closed your eyes, sucking on his finger. Obi-Wan let out a whimper at this. “Shit.”

He grabbed you in his arms, tossing you gently onto the bed and perching on top of you. “This is just beginning, my dear.”

He kissed you again, slower this time, tasting his essence on your mouth. You moaned slightly, his hands roaming all over your body, knowing it even better than his own.

He unfastened your bra with agility, freeing your breasts and attacking them with kisses and nibbles, his growing erection brushing lightly against your wet pussy.

“Shit.” You whimpered, stirring under his big body. You needed him. “Love, please. I need you.” You whispered.

He looked down at you, chuckling slightly at your desperation. “I must get you ready first, my dear.”

He moved his hand down to the strap of your panties, wrapping it teasingly around his finger as you grew increasingly impatient.

His thumb lightly rubbed your center, eliciting a whimper from you. “So wet for me.”

He finally got rid of your underwear, spreading your legs for him.

“That's it, gorgeous.” He stroked your clit, moving his finger in small circles. Your hips moved involuntarily, seeking more friction. “You like it, hm?”

“Yes...” You murmured, closing your eyes at such a long awaited touch. He proceeded to kiss you again, while stimulating your clitoris with his hand.

His middle finger slipped inside you, making him gasp at the ease. “Shit. You're ready for me, aren't you, darling?”

You only moaned in response, wanting more.

He began to move his finger, pulling it in and out of your pussy, faster and faster as your moans increased.

He increased another finger, opening them like scissors to expand you further and prepare you for him.

“Oh- Kriff. Obi-Wan, please.”

“Please what?”

“I need your cock... Please.”

He laughed a little at this, leaving a small kiss on your neck. “You want my cock, hm? You want me to fuck you until I breed you? Stuff you with my cum until I make you a baby?”

You moaned in surprise. You weren't used to your fiancé using such dirty words. But you couldn't deny that you loved it. “Yes... Please. Fuck me. Breed me.”

Obi-Wan grunted at this, withdrawing his fingers and taking his cock, rubbing it lightly at your entrance.

“Maker. Just- Do it.” Your murmurs were interrupted as you felt his cock impaling you, filling you almost completely.

He used his knees to rock, ramming you again and again. All you could hear were the wet sounds of your bodies coming together, and your moans.

You wrapped your arms around Obi-Wan's back, kissing him again, your tongues tasting each other.

Your nails dug into his back as you felt his cock at your sweet spot, your legs trembling and your breathing was ragged as you moaned audibly. “Oh... Maker- Yeah, right there. Obi-Wan...”

Obi-Wan just whimpered in response, his head in the hollow of your neck, leaving kisses and nibbles all over the place. Your pussy was contracting perfectly against his cock, and it was making him feel closer and closer.

The thought of the possible outcome of this night, your pregnant, round-bellied fruit of his love, was turning him on that much more, murmuring praises to you.

You began to feel a warmth in your abdomen, growing more and more. Your orgasm was coming.

“Love... I'm-I'm close.”

“Me too.” Obi-Wan murmured into your neck. “Let's come together, darling. Let me breed you.”

You nodded, his voice trying to resist being enough so he could release you.

Your orgasm felt like fireworks in your chest, the pleasure taking over and building as you felt Obi-Wan's hot liquid filling you.

You pressed your foreheads together, trying to recover together. He tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear, smiling at you. You could feel your legs shaking, your pussy throbbing from the recent pleasure-fest.

“That was amazing. You were amazing.”

You laughed lightly. “You were amazing. We've been together for so many years, and I don't think I've ever heard you talk so dirty.”

Obi-Wan blushed, pulling out of you with a whimper, and falling down next to you. “Yeah, about that... I'm sorry. I got a little carried away. If you don't like it, I understand and-”

You interrupted him, resting a finger on his lips. “Hey, hey, love. You were fantastic. I've never seen that side of you before, but I can't deny I loved it.”

He just smiled, shy but pleased. He'd make a note for future times. “I hope this works.” He brought his hand to your abdomen, stroking it lightly.

“So do I. In fact, I checked my calendar. I'm ovulating right now, so the odds of it working are pretty high.”

Obi-Wan kissed your forehead. “Let's hope it does. And if not, we can keep trying, right?”

You laughed, rolling over until you were on top of him again. “That's right. What's more... I'd like to start from now.”

“Let's get on with it.”

Many rounds later, you were both absolutely exhausted.

You woke up the next morning, completely sore in your core. You looked around, you were on top of Obi-Wan, who was sleeping peacefully. You raised your eyebrows in surprise when you noticed something very peculiar. Your fiancé's cock was still in you. You really must have been exhausted.

You lowered yourself off him with a groan, your hips aching. You felt sticky, you felt traces of dried cum running down your legs. But you would worry about that later. Now you just wanted to go back to sleep in your fiancé's arms.

#dividers by @saradika graphics #obi wan x reader #star wars #obi wan kenobi #star wars fanfiction #the clone wars #fanfiction #obi wan x you #obi wan smut #star wars smut #star wars the clone wars #sw fanfic #smut #x reader #fem reader #female reader #fluff #kinktober

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birdofwildness · 2 months ago

Text

୨୧✧˚A dance with the devil

୨୧✧˚Tom Riddle

summary:: Tom Riddle needs a partner for Grindelwald's event. He needs to find the gaunt ring. Lucky enough,you're there.

warnings:: bit of y/n x Grindelwald, jealousy,brief smut, (y/n and Tom are the endgame)cheating

A carriage pulled up in front of the manor gates with a soft crunch of gravel, and for a moment, everything was still.

You weren’t sure what gave you the worse feeling — the fact that your heels were sinking into enchanted snow, or the knowledge that the man behind tonight’s elegant chaos might be Gellert Grindelwald himself.

The invitation had arrived wrapped in black ribbon, sealed in gold wax, with no return owl. No name. Just a single line in curling script:

“Only the worthy may enter.”

You smoothed the front of your dress, your fingers trembling slightly. Tonight was important — not just for the prestige, but for your boyfriend aswell. He’d worked hard for this invitation. A place among the magical elite wasn’t offered easily, especially not to half-bloods like the two of you.

The lamps floating above the entrance cast warm light over the arriving couples. Gilded masks, enchanted silks, laughter like bells. You stepped down from the carriage and turned toward your boyfriend—

He wasn’t there.

You blinked. Looked around.

Still no sign of him.

You checked the inside pocket of your cloak. Empty. The invitation — both invitations — were in the carriage. The one that had already started rolling away.

“Perfect,” you muttered under your breath.

A guard in deep green robes stepped forward. “Invitation?”

You smiled, awkwardly. “Ah. Yes, well. My partner has them. He’s just… running a bit late.”

The guard didn’t smile back. “Only couples may enter. And only with proof.”

You tried not to panic, eyes darting toward the road. He was nowhere. Maybe he got caught in apparition traffic. Maybe his tie snapped.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, watching the gate like it might produce you a new boyfriend if you stared hard enough. Your breath fogged the air. The guards were losing patience. So were you.

And then you heard footsteps.Steady, deliberate.

Definitely him.

A tall figure emerged from the shadows of the tree-lined drive — black coat sweeping behind him like smoke, wand tucked away, not a hair out of place. There was something theatrical about the way he moved, like he knew exactly who would be watching him.

Tom Riddle.

Of course it was him.

You hadn’t seen him since Hogwarts — and even then, your interactions had been brief, careful, tense. He was the kind of student who made you feel like you were always one step away from a game you hadn’t agreed to play.

He hadn’t changed. If anything, he’d only grown sharper.

Tom was just handing over his own invitation—that looked fake—to the guards when his eyes flicked sideways and landed on you.

Alone.

No invitation. No partner.

For half a second, you saw the calculation in his expression. That subtle flicker of decision behind the mask.

Then he stepped forward, smooth as shadow, just as the guard turned to speak.

“Apologies,” Tom said, calm and perfectly composed. “My wife can be a bit forgetful. She’s my plus one.”

Your stomach dropped.His what?Before you could speak, his arm slid into yours — practiced, firm, like this had been the plan all along.

The guard looked between the two of you. You held his gaze and gave the smallest, most forced smile of your life.

He stepped aside without another word. aside without another word.

As you passed through the marble arch, the ballroom glowing ahead, Tom leaned down — his voice low, his breath brushing your cheek.

“Try to look like you belong here.”

The air shimmered with perfume, magic, and the kind of silence that only the powerful know how to keep.

Tom led you a few steps in, just far enough from the entrance not to draw attention, then released your arm.

You turned on him immediately.

“What the hell was that?”

He raised a brow, calm as ever. “You’re welcome.”

“You just told a Ministry-level guard I’m your wife, Riddle. That’s not improvisation, that’s insanity.”

“You were about to be thrown out,” he said simply, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve. “I solved the problem.”

“I didn’t ask you to solve anything.”

He looked at you then — properly. Dark eyes, quiet and sharp.

“No,” he said, voice low. “But I needed a partner. And you happened to be available.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “You used me.”

“That would imply I didn’t give you anything in return. You’re inside, aren’t you?”

You took a breath, glancing around. Everyone was paired. Everyone was watching. No room for arguments. No room for mistakes.

Still, you hissed, “What are you really doing here?”

Tom’s gaze drifted toward the far end of the ballroom — where a cluster of guests stood around a man in silver robes. Laughing. Smiling. Powerful.

Grindelwald.

“I’m here for something he has,” Tom said quietly.

Your throat tightened. “What?”

Tom’s voice dropped even lower.

“A ring. Black stone, old magic. I believe it belonged to the Gaunt family.”

You frowned. “The Gaunt family? Who even are they?”

Tom’s eyes snapped back to you — not angry, but sharp. Measuring.

“That’s not your concern,” he said flatly. “All that matters is I need it. And you’re going to help me get it.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He leaned slightly closer, that same cold precision in his tone. “ You’re my advantage.”

You stared at him, pulse thudding.

“You don’t even know if I’ll say yes.”

Tom gave the faintest smile. “You already did. The moment you took my arm.”

The music shifted — slower now, a waltz weaving through the gold-drenched air. Around you, couples began to glide effortlessly across the ballroom.

Tom offered you his hand without looking at you.

"Shall we?" he asked, already stepping onto the floor.

You hesitated only a second before placing your hand in his — because like everything tonight, it wasn’t really a choice.

He pulled you in, one hand at your waist, the other cradling your fingers just a touch too precisely. The rhythm came back easily — a muscle memory left over from those mandatory dance lessons back at Hogwarts. You’d always hated them. He, clearly, had not.

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” you muttered as he spun you once, effortlessly.

“I’m good at most things,” he replied.

You rolled your eyes, but his lips curved slightly, like he enjoyed the reaction.

After a few silent beats, he said, “You came here with someone, didn’t you?”

Your brow lifted, surprised. “My boyfriend. Or, well—he was supposed to be here.”

“Late,” Tom said, almost too quickly. “Unreliable.”

You stiffened. “He’s not unreliable, he just—something must’ve delayed him.”

Tom hummed lowly, like he wasn’t convinced. His eyes stayed on yours. “You don’t look very bothered by it.”

You pulled your gaze away. “Maybe I am. Maybe I just didn’t want to stand outside alone like an idiot.”

He tilted his head, studying you. “He doesn’t belong here.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He doesn’t see you. Not really.” His voice was calm, smooth as ever. “He wouldn’t have left you standing there. And he wouldn’t have let someone like me step in so easily.”

You glared at him, trying to ignore the way your stomach twisted. “This isn’t about him.”

Tom's expression didn’t change, but his grip subtly tightened. “It could be.”

You searched his face, looking for a sign of what he meant — but, as always, Tom Riddle gave nothing away unless he wanted to.

After a beat, he said, “So. What have you been doing since Hogwarts?”

The question caught you off guard. His tone wasn’t mocking — just... curious.

“I thought you didn’t care about anything that wasn’t useful to you,” you said carefully.

“I don’t,” he replied smoothly. “But sometimes, knowing what someone values is useful.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but answered anyway. “I work with magical archives. Old spell records, cursed objects, family histories. I mostly do research and analysis.”

“Hmm,” he said, as if filing that away. “So you're still buried in books.”

“And you?” you asked, glancing up at him. “Are you still pretending to be charming while manipulating everyone in the room?”

That earned a low chuckle.

“I never pretended,” he said. “I am charming.”

You almost laughed — almost — but he turned you again, and for a moment, the world tilted. You were suddenly aware of the heat of his hand at your waist. The way his eyes didn’t leave yours.

He added, quieter now, “Besides... you’re not so different from me. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

The softness of the music swallowed the words as Tom pulled you closer, his steps fluid, each movement perfectly timed as though every step, every turn, was calculated with a single purpose.

“Look,” he began, as they spun in time with the waltz. “The ring won’t be easy to get. Grindelwald knows its value.”

“So, what’s the plan?” you asked, trying to keep the suspicion out of your voice, even as you kept moving to the music.

Tom didn’t answer immediately. He took a step, then guided the dance in another direction with the kind of smoothness that suggested this was exactly where he wanted to be.

“You’ll need to get closer to him,” Tom said quietly, leaning in just enough so only you could hear. “Grindelwald’s not an idiot. You’ll have to... charm him.”

You froze, briefly losing track of the steps as the words sank in. “Wait, what?”

Tom continued, his voice smooth, calculated. “But you’ll have to make sure he’s... distracted. Make him trust you enough so that he lets his guard down.”

You blinked at him. “So, what? You want me to... seduce him?” The words tasted bitter on your tongue, and you nearly stumbled in your steps.

Tom didn’t seem to notice your discomfort. Instead, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully as if weighing something in his mind. “You don’t need to seduce him, just... persuade him. A few drinks, a well-timed compliment. He’ll be putty in your hands.”

You pulled back slightly, shaking your head. “You seriously think I can fool someone like Grindelwald? He’s one of the most powerful wizards alive.”

Tom’s lips curved ever so slightly, that infuriating smile you knew too well. He didn’t break his stride as the dance carried on. “He’s just a man, Y/N. And you’re a young woman, who’s... quite easy on the eyes.” He paused for a beat, his gaze sliding over you, assessing. “Trust me, it’ll work. He’ll be distracted, and you’ll have the upper hand.”

Your jaw tightened. “I’m supposed to lure him in like some... pawn.”

“Not a pawn,” Tom corrected softly, almost too smoothly. “A key player. You’re the one who will make the difference. He’ll never see it coming.”

You shot him a glance, feeling the weight of his words settle on you like a heavy cloak. For all his confidence, for all his certainty — it was clear now that he saw you as more than just a partner. You were a tool in his plan, one he was more than willing to use.

Still, there was no choice but to play along.

“You better hope this works,” you muttered.

Tom gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod, his smile returning in full force. “It will.”

Before you could reply — before you could even fully process the strange glint in Tom’s words — the music stopped.

A hush fell over the ballroom, sudden and smooth, like someone had pressed their wand to the night and whispered Silencio.

Every head turned.

At the top of the grand staircase, illuminated by the soft golden glow of floating orbs, stood a man in long, dark robes trimmed with silver thread. His white-blonde hair was swept back, ageless and perfectly in place. His smile was faint but sharp, like it had been carved from marble.

Gellert Grindelwald.

You felt Tom still beside you — not with fear, but something sharper. Calculation.

Grindelwald raised a hand, and the room responded as if enchanted: breathless attention, not a whisper out of place.

“My friends,” he began, his voice smooth and rich, cutting clean through the silence. “Thank you. Thank you for gracing this evening with your presence — for celebrating not just the season, but possibility.”

He descended the stairs slowly as he spoke, every step deliberate, measured.

“We gather here tonight not out of tradition, but out of shared vision. You are the brightest lights of magical society — those who understand that the old ways no longer serve us. That change is not something to fear... but to lead.”

A few scattered claps broke the silence, quickly joined by others. Polite. Controlled.

Grindelwald paused at the base of the stairs, lifting his glass in a quiet toast. “To the future. And to those brave enough to shape it.”

He drank. The crowd followed suit.

Then — as quickly as the formality began — the music resumed. Laughter bubbled back into the air. Glasses clinked. Couples twirled.

Grindelwald stepped down into the crowd and began to mingle, his path unpredictable. Guests gravitated toward him instinctively, drawn to the glow of power he didn’t bother to hide.

Next to you, Tom’s voice was low, and very calm.

“It begins now.”

Tom’s fingers were still resting on your back, light as ever, when his voice slid past your ear.

“Well then,” he murmured, watching the way Grindelwald moved through the crowd like a predator among admirers. “Time to work your magic.”

You blinked. “What—now?”

He didn’t look at you. “Of course now. He’s alone. Vulnerable.”

You swallowed hard. “What am I supposed to say? What if I mess it up?”

Tom finally turned his head, his eyes dark and calm. “You won’t. Just smile. Laugh. Let him think you’re fascinated. That’s all men like him ever need.”

You took a slow breath—until Tom’s hand gave you the slightest push.

“Go on,” he said under his breath. “Seduce him.”

And just like that, he nudged you forward — straight into Grindelwald’s path.

You stumbled slightly — not enough to fall, but enough to seem flustered — and collided gently with a tall, warm figure.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” you gasped, straightening your gown and immediately looking up.

Grindelwald turned toward you with a look of polite surprise, his glass still half-raised. For a moment, his sharp blue eyes scanned your face — curious, interested.

“No harm done,” he said smoothly. “Though I daresay I should be the one apologizing. I’m quite used to people avoiding me, not falling into my arms.”

You laughed, just the right kind — light, apologetic, a little embarrassed. “I must be the exception, then.”

His smile deepened, amused. “How fortunate for me.”

From somewhere behind you, you could feel Tom watching. Waiting.

And now, the performance truly began.

You forced yourself to hold his gaze, letting your lashes drop just a little before glancing up again — like you had something to hide.

“I’ll admit,” you said, voice low but clear, “I’ve always found you... intriguing.”

Grindelwald arched an eyebrow. “Have you?”

“I know I probably shouldn’t say that,” you added quickly, with a light laugh, “but I’ve always believed there’s more to someone than the stories people tell.”

He tilted his head, and for a moment he studied you—not like prey, but like a puzzle he was just beginning to solve.

“Most people fear what they don’t understand,” he said. “But curiosity? That’s rarer.”

Without breaking eye contact, he reached toward a nearby server, plucking two elegant glasses of a deep, amber-gold liquid from a silver tray.

“To curiosity,” he said, handing one to you with a graceful nod.

You took it, fingers brushing his just enough to count. “To mystery.”

He smiled again — and this time, there was something approving in it.

Grindelwald motioned toward a small, marble-topped table set near one of the side alcoves, half-shadowed and away from the worst of the crowd. He didn’t ask. He simply walked, knowing you would follow.

And you did.

You sat across from him, crossing your legs slowly, glass in hand, heart beating a little too fast as you felt the weight of Tom’s plan — and of Grindelwald’s gaze — settling over you.

“So,” he said, swirling the drink in his glass. “If it’s not the stories that brought you to me… what did?”

You met his eyes, steadying yourself.

Think. Be clever. Be bold.

You took a careful sip of the drink — sweet, smoky, with just a hint of something floral. Your eyes didn’t leave his.

“I suppose…” you began, swirling the liquid in your glass like it might offer courage, “I wanted to see if you were real.”

Grindelwald gave a soft chuckle. “And am I?”

“That depends. Are you everything they say you are?”

“And what do they say?” he asked, leaning forward slightly. His voice was velvet, threaded with danger and amusement.

You smiled, tilting your head. “That you’re powerful. Brilliant. Dangerous. The kind of man who could change the world… or burn it down.”

He was silent for a beat, blue eyes searching yours for something beneath the words. Then:

“And what do you believe?”

You let the question hang, not answering right away. Instead, you leaned in as well, mirroring his posture, your fingers lightly resting on the base of your glass.

“I think I’d like to find out for myself.”

Just as you were beginning to think you’d found your rhythm, the sound of low laughter drifted from a nearby table — too familiar to ignore.

You didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

Tom.

He was seated just a few feet away, effortlessly charming a tall, elegantly dressed witch with silver hair and an empty laugh. She leaned in far too close as Tom whispered something against the rim of his glass.

Grindelwald followed your glance and raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that... your husband?”

You blinked, heart lurching. Then you gave a soft, carefully measured sigh, letting your expression fall into something wistful.

“Yes,” you said, voice quiet but bitter-sweet. “My husband. Though lately... we’ve been arguing a lot.”

Grindelwald’s gaze lingered on you, and for a moment, you thought you saw something flicker behind his expression. Curiosity? Sympathy? Or simply amusement?

“Mm,” he said, taking another sip. “He doesn’t seem particularly torn up about it.”

You gave a hollow laugh. “No. He rarely is.”

Then — inside your mind — a cold, familiar voice curled into your thoughts like smoke through a crack in the door:

“Well played.”

“He’s watching. He’s listening. Keep going.”

“You’re doing perfectly.”

You didn’t react outwardly. But your fingers tightened slightly around your glass. You could almost feel Tom’s satisfaction, as if he were toasting you from across the room.

Grindelwald watched you carefully for a long moment, then leaned back slightly in his chair, his voice dropping to something more intimate.

“You know,” he said, “people often forget that power… can be lonely. They assume those who lead have no need for companionship. But even kings need someone who understands them.”

You tilted your head. “And who understands you, Mr. Grindelwald?”

His smile was thin and quiet. “No one. Not really.”

There was something haunting in that answer — something dangerous, too. You felt it settle in the air between you, like a spell with no clear intent.

And then—

“He’s lying.”

Tom’s voice again. Icy, quiet, unmistakably tense.

“He’s testing you. He wants to know what side you’re on.”

You kept your expression neutral, even as your pulse spiked. The voice in your head wasn’t calm like before. It was tighter. Sharper.

Almost… possessive?

“Don’t get too comfortable.”

“He’s not interested in you — only in what he thinks you can offer him.”

And you are? you thought, the words not spoken, just felt.

Tom didn’t answer. But you could feel his silence stretch between you like a tether pulled too tight.

Grindelwald leaned in again, his voice suddenly lower, eyes searching.

“And what about you, dear girl? Do you understand power? Or are you simply drawn to it, like a flame you can’t quite touch?”

You smiled politely. But your eyes drifted — just for a second — toward the other table, where Tom was no longer smiling.

The girl beside him was laughing. He wasn’t.

And for the first time, you wondered whether this whole game had started out as strategy… but something else was beginning to slip in beneath it.

You laughed again — lighter this time, as if the wine had finally begun to hit you. Or at least, that’s what you wanted him to think.

Grindelwald’s glass clinked softly against yours as he refilled it. “You’re dangerous,” he said, slurring just slightly. “Charming. And far too clever.”

You tilted your head with a grin. “Careful. Flattery makes me reckless.”

“I don’t mind reckless,” he murmured, lifting his glass again.

He was flushed now — the tips of his ears a little pink, his posture just a little looser. It was working. You were winning.

And then—

“How many drinks does he need?”

Tom’s voice again. Cold. Sharp. Frustrated.

You kept your smile frozen on your face as you raised your glass, nodding at something Grindelwald had said but hadn’t truly heard.

“You’re enjoying this too much.”

“He’s touching your arm.”

He’s drunk, you thought firmly, replying in your mind.

“You’re supposed to be my wife, Y/N. Remember?”

Your heart jumped at the intensity in those words. Not our mission. Not remember the plan.

You blinked, startled enough that Grindelwald noticed.

“Everything alright?” he asked, a little more sluggish now, his words melting together.

You nodded quickly, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Yes. Just a little dizzy.”

He grinned, clearly thinking it was the wine.

“Good,” he said, lifting his glass again. “Let’s both get a little lost.”

But you weren’t the only one getting lost.

Across the room, Tom Riddle’s jaw was tight, his arm hanging loosely around the woman beside him, who had started to speak again — but he wasn’t listening.

He was staring at you.

And his eyes were no longer calculating.

They were burning.

“You want to get some air?” Grindelwald asked, his voice low and rough, breath tinted with wine and something darker.

You gave a breathy laugh, steadying yourself on the back of your chair. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He rose first, offering his arm like a true gentleman. You hesitated just enough before taking it — playing the part, every move a calculated temptation.

He led you out of the main ballroom, through a long hallway lit with floating candles and paintings that watched in silence. The music faded behind you, and soon there was only the hush of footsteps on marble.

Then a small door — a side terrace — and the night air rushed over you like freedom.

He turned to you, and his eyes had gone darker.

“I think I could trust you,” he said softly. “And that scares me.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

He stepped closer, hands brushing your waist, and before you could second-guess yourself — before Tom’s voice could return — Grindelwald kissed you.

His mouth was warm, slow, tasting of wine and danger.

And then—

“Enough.”

The word split through your mind like a lash.

“That’s enough, Y/N.”

Tom’s voice wasn’t calm anymore. It thundered in your skull — not from anger alone, but from something deeper.

Possessive. Hurt. Furious.

You didn’t pull away — not yet.

You let the kiss linger. Let Grindelwald think he was winning.

But your fingers had already slipped toward the pocket of his coat.

The ring was close.

Grindelwald was still close, his hand on your waist, his lips moving against yours — but something in the air shifted. A presence, colder and more dangerous, seemed to bleed from the shadows.

And then — a figure appeared behind him.

Tom.

Before you could even react, Tom was there.

In an instant, he grabbed Grindelwald by the collar and yanked him away from you. Grindelwald barely had time to register what was happening before Tom’s wand was pointed directly at his chest.

“Stupefy.”

A flash of light — and Grindelwald crumpled to the floor with a soft thud, unconscious.

Silence.

Tom stood over him, his chest rising and falling in controlled breaths, his face a mask of cold fury. His eyes, however, were anything but calm. They burned.

With a swift motion, he crouched down and, without hesitation, reached for Grindelwald’s hand. His fingers brushed against the cold metal of the ring. His expression didn’t change, but you could sense the tension in his every movement as he carefully removed it from the fallen wizard’s finger.

You watched, speechless, as Tom stood back up, the ring now clenched tightly in his fist. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

He looked down at the ring, inspecting it for a moment before turning it over and slipping it into his coat pocket.

"You know," he continued, the tone shifting slightly, "I don't like sharing what’s mine."

You felt a shiver run through you. There was no question now. This wasn’t just about the mission anymore. Tom had claimed his prize. But you... you were clearly part of it.

Without a word, he stepped closer, his body practically radiating heat, and you could feel the tension coil between you like an invisible thread pulling you toward him.

You weren’t sure who moved first. It didn’t matter. All you knew was that, in the next instant, Tom’s lips were on yours — urgent, burning, all-consuming.

The kiss was fierce, raw, as if he was marking you, staking his claim in a way words never could. His hand found your waist, pulling you closer to him, the heat of his body pressing against yours. You responded without hesitation, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart beneath his clothes.

Everything around you seemed to fade. The cold air outside, the memory of Grindelwald — all of it disappeared, drowned out by the fire that erupted between you. It wasn’t just passion. It was something darker, something that made your pulse race with both excitement and fear.

Tom deepened the kiss, his fingers tangling in your hair, drawing you even closer, as if he couldn’t get enough. You could feel his control slip just slightly, the raw intensity of his emotions seeping through. It wasn’t just about the ring anymore — it was about you, about what was between you two, something neither of you could deny.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, your heart pounding in your chest, Tom’s expression was unreadable. But his eyes... they were wild now, the dangerous flicker of something unspoken passing between you.

You couldn't get a word out before his lips were on yours again and your back against the wall. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close.

He pulled away and moved you a to face a mirror. He grabbed your ass,and grunted "You don't know what his thoughts were like,y/n. If I wasn't such a gentleman I would have fucked my wife infront of him"

Getting fucked in a room full of art? That was every girl's dream with a man like Tom Riddle,who by the way had a weird obsession with thinking he's your husband.

#tom riddle #harry potter #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle x you #tom riddle smut

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