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Wait you had autism and still got along with the other kids and knew what was going on with them?? I was never able to do that! I still chose to do my own thing but would have been unable to answer those questions.
I mean I didn't really WANNA make friends for a super long time so it didn't really matter? And if anyone was outright mean I don't think I noticed till like 6th grade.
After 6th a few other kids liked to throw or kick things at my face or steal my art supplies or give me mean nicknames- I remember almost all the boys in my class one year started a thing where if I got within 4 feet of them they'd yell "[tea] GERMS!" and make a dramatic mad-dash escape, and that was kinda hurtful, but IDK how long that was a thing??
Anyhow I started asking them if they had a crush on me or if they were just stupid, and when they asked what I meant I'd just be like "well there's two reasons boys act stupid around girls. Either you have a crush on me, or you're just always this stupid"
And that invariably led to them yelling "I'm stupid, I'm stupid!" or telling me, "I'd rather say I'm stupid than say I like you!"
Which might have been hurtful if I wasn't growing into a mild superiority complex that assured me I was smarter than them, and nicer than them, and there was really no need to desire the approval of stupid, mean people.
(This was, of course, backed up by the fact that my father was one of those mean, stupid sorts of people, and I fully beleived if I could handle him, I could handle anyone my size, and so what if you dont like me? My own dad doesnt like me, am i supposed to value your opinion?)
Then by highschool I got hot, and if one of them started chatting me up I'd just be like "You wrote in my yearbook in 2002 that I was a huge loser. Why would I want to hang out with you"
And by THEN I'd met enough genuinely fun, interesting people who actually liked me that I was never around anyone who openly disliked me anyways.
Not until I started to realize I wasn't 100% a girl and cut my hair off- Then I started hearing other girls whispering to each other that I looked like a lesbian- gasp- which, again, was actually pretty funny, 'cause then I'd just tell them not to get their hopes up 'cause I wasn't available.
Then I graduated, and moved, and it turns out I'm actually kind of hot funny smart and successful, and whenever I fall into the deep deep pit of dumb ugly stupid imposter-syndrome, I remember that as mean as other kids were sometimes, their parents thought I was the best.
So anyways get fucked Gabe from ninth grade, your mom used to give me candy and bail me out of detention. I had the biggest fucking crush on your mom dude
#But uhhh I guess if I can give anyone in the weirdo seat some advice it'd be Prioritize whose opinions you care about#Learn to like yourself#and Don't take any of that shit seriously like the MINUTE you get out it stops mattering#Also I'm a security guard now so I've hauled Gabe's drunk on a Tuesday stupid ass out of ditches a few times#That definitely makes things better#I never forgot the hockey puck Gabe you dumbshit#How's your mom
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EL COQUETO | FC43
an: welcome back as we write about my n.1 pookie, i've got some more works planned for him BUT i've just gotten to france so imma be very busy rip, based off of this request
summary: when franco catches feelings for a journalist who is persuaded he doesn't really want her.
wc: 7.6k
The paddock was alive with energy, buzzing with the hum of engines and the chatter of the press as they swarmed around the new driver. She watched him move through the crowd with ease, a slight swagger in his step and a dazzling smile that had already made him the focus of every camera. He was the story of the weekend: Franco Colapinto, the unexpected mid-season replacement, here to shake up the grid with his flashy driving style—and, evidently, his unapologetic charm.
He caught sight of her, raised an eyebrow in recognition, and made a beeline toward her with the confidence of someone who knew he’d be welcome, even if he hadn’t been invited.
“Hola,” he greeted, his voice carrying a thick, rolling Spanish accent that seemed to coat every word in warmth. “You must be my next question of the day. They warned me about the best journalist here—of course, I was told to behave.”
She gave him a practised smile, cool but polite. “Franco, welcome to the team. How are you feeling about joining mid-season?”
His eyes sparkled, unfazed by the businesslike tone. “How am I feeling?” He leaned in just slightly, as though sharing a secret. “Well, right now, very lucky. They said I’d get tough questions, but they didn’t say the interviewer would be… distracting.”
She fought the urge to look away, just barely managing to keep her composure. “So you feel ready for the pressure, then?” she asked, refocusing, though the tiniest hint of a blush warmed her cheeks.
“For the track? Yes, I am prepared to race anyone.” He paused, letting his gaze linger on her a beat too long. “For the interviews? That remains to be seen. Perhaps you can teach me how to handle that part, s��?”
She could sense her colleagues nearby, some watching with open amusement as they caught his flirtatious energy. Franco was as smooth as they came, that much was certain. But she wouldn’t be the one to crack first.
“I’m sure you’ll learn quickly,” she said, tilting her head, her voice steady, though her heart raced. “Now, back to the race. What are your goals for this weekend?”
His grin broadened, but he played along. “Goals for the weekend,” he echoed thoughtfully, shifting back into the question. “Win a few hearts, break a few records—no particular order.” He winked, and she felt a laugh bubble up before she stifled it, opting instead for a brisk nod.
“Right. Well, I hope you’re ready for the competition,” she managed.
He shrugged, eyes glinting with mischief. “With you here, qué competencia?”
She gave him a pointed look, resisting the smile tugging at her lips. “You know, charm doesn’t score you points on the track.”
“Ah, no?” He tilted his head, feigning surprise. “Then I suppose I’ll have to win the hard way.”
Just then, a flash of cameras went off around them, the media eating up every angle of Franco’s arrival. He seemed entirely unfazed, even performing slightly for the flashes. The crowd around them surged with questions about his plans, about what his first practice would look like, about his last season in Formula 2. But Franco’s attention was still locked on her, and he hadn’t missed a beat.
“So,” he said, with that soft smile of his, “do you think I’ll be able to charm Formula One, or will they be immune to my Argentian ways?”
She gave him a dry smile. “You might have your work cut out for you. It’s not a stroll through Argentina, after all.”
He laughed at that, clearly enjoying her wit. “You’re tough,” he said, a touch of admiration sneaking into his voice. “I can see why you’re the best.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Flattery won’t distract me from the questions, Franco.”
“No? Not even if I try very, very hard?” he asked, drawing out the words with a grin. It was ridiculous, really—the way he leaned into every word, the way he seemed to shine in the spotlight. But there was something endearing about it too, something that felt… unexpectedly genuine.
“Not even then,” she replied, her tone light but steady. “Let’s talk strategy. What’s your focus for your first race?”
He sighed, shifting slightly but keeping that glint in his eye. “Fine, I’ll behave,” he said with a sigh, straightening up to answer. “My focus is simple: get the car under me, push it to its limits, and aim for a strong finish. Maybe even a few surprise overtakes. I’ve been itching to get back on the track.”
It was the most serious answer he’d given yet, and she noted the shift in his voice—a hint of intensity breaking through the smooth, easy charm.
“And your teammate?” she pressed, sensing she’d found the thread to pull him out of his flirtatious veneer. “Are you prepared for the rivalry?”
Franco’s expression turned thoughtful for a moment, a flicker of something sharper in his eyes. “My teammate…” He paused, glancing away briefly before meeting her gaze again. “He’s William’s best. I’ll learn from him, give him the respect he deserves. But I didn’t come here to play second.”
She watched as someone next to her scribbled down his answer, though her mind wandered slightly, wondering at the complexity beneath his charm.
“Good to hear,” she said, offering a small nod. “We’ll all be watching to see if you live up to that confidence.”
“I live up to my promises,” he replied smoothly. Then he leaned in one last time, lowering his voice just for her. “One of them being to get at least one smile from you by the end of the weekend. I’ll start with that goal.”
Before she could reply, he gave a casual wave to the crowd, moving on to the next journalist as though he hadn’t just made her heart skip a beat with his easy, disarming confidence. She watched him go, flustered despite herself.
One thing was certain: Franco Colapinto was going to be a story.
When the time came, the race had barely begun, but her eyes were already glued to the screen, following the sleek white-and-blue car with Franco’s number emblazoned on the front. Despite her best efforts to stay neutral, to approach this like any other weekend, there was something magnetic about watching him. Franco Colapinto, the audacious rookie, who’d barely spent a week with the team and had taken to the grid without a single day of training in an F1 car.
From the start, it was clear he was playing it differently. He didn’t charge forward recklessly like other rookies might have, eager to prove themselves. Instead, Franco took a few cautious laps, feeling out the car, testing its responses. She noticed how his style evolved lap by lap, each one more aggressive, his moves sharper. He was adapting, learning the car right there in the thick of the race.
As the race progressed, he began to gain ground. Corner after corner, he squeezed every ounce of performance from his machine, edging closer to the pack with each lap. By mid-race, he was overtaking the backmarkers, slipping past seasoned drivers who had years on him, and the commentators were buzzing.
She caught herself smiling, feeling a strange, almost foolish pride as she watched. The memory of his easy, arrogant grin flashed in her mind, his voice low and teasing: “Do you think I’ll charm Formula One?” She’d laughed it off, but he had something special, didn’t he? That hunger for the track, the sheer nerve to go head-to-head with anyone in his way.
Then, as if her thoughts had summoned trouble, the camera cut to his car—a close-up on his visor as he fought for P12. Her heart caught as he made a daring move, threading his car through a razor-thin gap into the next turn. It was reckless, and yet somehow—somehow—he made it stick.
“P12!” The radio crackled through his team radio, their voice as surprised as she felt. For a rookie with zero F1 experience, it was practically a victory.
She exhaled, releasing a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. The chequered flag fell, and Franco’s car slowed down, his voice breaking through the team radio with a triumphant laugh, half-sighing, half-cheering in disbelief at his own result.
When she saw him back in the paddock, she managed to slip past the swarm of journalists waiting to pounce, positioning herself where he’d inevitably cross her path. She didn’t want to admit how much she wanted to hear his version of the race firsthand, to see if the adrenaline still sparkled in his eyes the way it had behind the visor.
When he finally caught sight of her, his face lit up. “Ah, my toughest questioner returns,” he said, the grin wide as he raked a hand through his hair, still tousled from the helmet. “So? Impressed?”
She raised an eyebrow, trying to keep her expression composed. “Not bad for a first race,” she said, voice calm but betraying the slightest hint of a smile. “Though I have to say, you took some pretty risky moves out there.”
Franco laughed, that low, familiar chuckle that could disarm anyone. “You sound like my engineer. But I had to make it interesting, didn’t I?” His gaze softened slightly, the playfulness ebbing for a moment. “I did better than you expected, maybe?”
“Maybe,” she admitted, leaning in just a bit. “I wouldn’t let it go to your head, though.”
He feigned a wince. “Ah, so I’ll have to work harder to impress you, then.”
With that, she couldn’t hold back the smile any longer. “Perhaps,” she said, voice softer. “But you’ve made a start.”
She followed the rest of the press corps into the media pen, her notebook in hand, watching as Franco slipped into his role with practised ease. The other drivers, still catching their breath, answered questions in measured tones, clearly exhausted. But Franco was… well, Franco. He leaned back against the barrier, relaxed, a half-smile playing on his lips as he answered questions, some about his lack of training, others about his shockingly high finish.
She hung back at first, observing him as he effortlessly charmed each journalist in turn, flashing that disarming grin and making even the toughest questions seem like casual conversation. But when his eyes caught hers across the small crowd, he subtly waved her forward, his grin widening.
“Ah, finally,” he said, his tone playful as she approached. “I was starting to think you were hiding from me.” The other journalists shot her curious glances, some smirking at Franco’s obvious interest.
She managed to keep her expression neutral, clearing her throat and lifting her voice to a professional tone. “Franco, congratulations on P12. Quite a debut.”
“Gracias, cariño,” he replied, eyes sparkling. “For a moment, I thought you didn’t think I could do it.”
“Well, you didn’t exactly take the most traditional route,” she shot back, raising an eyebrow. “You had us all on the edge of our seats with those overtakes.”
He leaned in a little, lowering his voice to just above a murmur, his gaze fixed on hers. “I thought about what you said. ‘Charm doesn’t score points.’ So I had to give you something else to smile about.”
She could feel her cheeks warm under his steady gaze, and she fought to keep her expression cool. “Don’t flatter yourself, Franco. I’m just here to report the facts.”
“Hmm,” he said, tapping his chin thoughtfully, though a playful smirk tugged at his lips. “Well, the fact is, I went from P20 to P12 on my first day. But somehow, I think I still haven’t impressed the person who matters most.”
“The person who—?” She trailed off, exasperated. “Franco, you were the story today.”
“Was I?” he asked, the innocent tone entirely ruined by the mischief in his eyes. “Because if I’m the story, you’re the reason it’s a good one.”
Before she could protest, he glanced over her shoulder at the next journalist, nodding politely. Then, in a flash, he was back to her, clearly undeterred. “When can we continue our interview?”
She forced herself to keep her composure. “I think you’ve given me more than enough material for one day.”
“A pity.” He shook his head, though his grin was unmistakable. “Then maybe next time, you’ll be a little more impressed.”
She watched him walk away, shoulders loose and steps casual as he moved from one group of reporters to the next, answering their questions with the same easy confidence he’d shown with her. She could still feel the heat of his gaze, the lingering effect of his words making her pulse quicken.
“Wow.” The journalist next to her, a seasoned reporter with a wry smile, gave her a knowing look. “You okay there? He has that effect, doesn’t he?”
She blinked, quickly snapping out of her daze, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up her neck. “I—yeah, I don’t know what’s going on,” she muttered, shaking her head, trying to compose herself. But she could still hear his words ringing in her ears, his playful teasing, the warmth in his gaze. “The person who matters most.”
“Oh, I think I do.” The other journalist smirked, nodding in Franco’s direction as he laughed and clapped a fellow driver on the shoulder. “It seems Franco over here has a slight crush.”
She scoffed, though it came out more flustered than she’d intended. “Franco has a crush on every woman he talks to. It’s his… thing since he got here.”
The journalist raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Maybe so, but I’ve watched him all day and that was different.”
Her colleague’s words only made her cheeks grow warmer. Was it that obvious? She was used to managing tough interviews, unflappable under pressure, and here she was, thrown off by a driver who hadn’t even been in Formula 1 for a full week. But somehow, Franco’s charm wasn’t just some casual game to him; it felt more… intense. And he’d directed every bit of that intensity straight at her.
The journalist chuckled. “Don’t overthink it. Enjoy the attention—it’s not every day a rookie looks at you like you’re the finish line.”
She glanced away, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. She didn’t want to admit it, not to her colleague, and definitely not to herself, but there was something in the way he’d looked at her, like she was more than just another journalist, more than just one of the many people crowding his spotlight.
“Well, let’s hope he stays focused on the real finish line,” she replied, aiming for a casual tone that didn’t quite land. But she couldn’t deny it—Franco Colapinto was becoming more than just the story of the weekend. He was starting to feel like her story, too.
Later that evening, she sat in her hotel room, trying to unwind from the chaos of race day. The lights of the city glimmered outside her window, but her mind was still caught on Franco—his effortless charm, that maddening smirk, the way he’d singled her out, even with half the media pen watching. It was absurd, really. She’d covered far bigger stories, spoken with veteran champions, and yet one rookie had managed to leave her feeling more flustered than she’d care to admit.
With a sigh, she scrolled through her phone, halfheartedly catching up on messages, until a notification popped up that made her heart skip.
Francolpainto has sent you a message.
She hesitated, a mix of curiosity and nerves swirling in her stomach as she opened it. The message was simple, casual—like he hadn’t already spent the whole day keeping her off balance.
Franco: Hola! Are you at the hotel?
Before she could talk herself out of it, she typed a quick reply.
Her: Yes, I am.
The response came almost immediately.
Franco: Perfect! I’m downstairs in the lounge. Come have dinner with me?
She stared at the screen, her mind racing. It was tempting—she’d be lying to herself if she said it wasn’t. But she knew his type all too well, didn’t she? The charming new driver who flirted with every journalist, every fan, anyone who would listen. She could already imagine him saying the exact same things to another reporter tomorrow.
No, she couldn’t let herself get pulled in. Not by someone who was probably just looking for a bit of attention.
Her: Thanks, but I think I’ll pass. Long day.
She set the phone down, hoping that would be the end of it, but a new message came through almost instantly.
Franco: Too bad. I was hoping I’d finally get a smile out of you without a hundred cameras around.
She rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t deny the small flutter his words sent through her. He was persistent, that was for sure.
Her: You’re very determined, Franco. But I have to ask—do you make this invitation to all the journalists?
A pause, just a few seconds longer than his usual quick responses. Then, his reply appeared, simple and direct.
Franco: No, just the one who keeps me on my toes.
Her: Pity, this one isn’t intrested.
She set her phone down after typing that, ignoring the little thrill that shot through her when he messaged her again almost immediately. Franco’s charm was undeniably effective, but she wasn’t about to let herself become just another name on his roster of admirers. He’d have to do a lot more than offer a casual dinner invite if he wanted her attention.
Franco: Really? You’re going to turn me down just like that?
She smirked at the screen. Of course he wasn’t used to hearing “no.”
Her: Really. I’ve seen you in action today, Franco. I’m sure you’ll find someone else to keep you company.
A longer pause this time, as if her words had taken him off-guard. When he replied, his tone was more thoughtful.
Franco: That’s not what I meant. Today was… different. I don’t want to go to dinner with just anyone. I want to go with you.
Her heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to stay firm. She typed a quick reply, keeping it casual.
Her: Nice try. But I’ve seen the way you charm everyone you talk to. You’re going to have to try a lot harder if you want me to believe that.
A few minutes passed, and she wondered if maybe he’d let it go. But just as she was about to put her phone down, another message appeared.
Franco: Okay. Fair enough. How about this: tomorrow, after practice, let me show you what a real date looks like. No crowds, no cameras. Just you and me.
She hesitated, feeling the pull of curiosity mingled with doubt. She knew he could be as persistent as he was charming, and there was something intriguing about his willingness to push past her refusal.
Her: Why should I believe this isn’t just a game to you?
His response came quickly this time, almost earnest.
Franco: Because no one else makes me want to try this hard. I’m not playing around here, cariño. Tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it.
She smiled, a little thrill rushing through her. For the first time, he seemed genuinely off-balance, unsure, and she couldn’t help but enjoy it.
Her: We’ll see if you mean that. Good luck tomorrow, Franco.
Franco: Gracias. And just so you know… I’m not giving up that easily.
The following week, she found herself in the bustling paddock of the Baku, her eyes catching sight of Franco’s car parked in the paddock. She had to admit, he’d stayed true to his word since their last exchange, staying out of her messages—though his lingering glances and smiles across the paddock hadn’t exactly disappeared. If anything, he seemed more determined, more focused. It was all part of his act, she reminded herself. And yet, there was something undeniably thrilling about it.
She was busy gathering notes when she felt a familiar presence beside her. Franco had sidled up, hands tucked into the pockets of his team jacket, his easygoing grin making her pulse quicken in spite of herself.
“Back to cheer me on, sí?” he asked, eyes bright with that familiar mischief.
She held back a smile, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “I’m here to cover the race, Franco. Your cheering section is back there.” She nodded to the growing crowd of fans waving his name on signs with Argentinan flags just a few metres away.
He laughed, the sound warm and rich. “They’re great, sure, but I was looking for one particular fan. The one who told me I’d have to work harder if I wanted to impress her.”
She raised an eyebrow, stepping out of earshot of the nearest camera. “Oh, you remember that, do you?”
“Every word,” he said, his gaze steady. “I thought about it all week.”
A small thrill ran through her, though she kept her voice steady and her tone cool. “Well, if you’re serious, you’ll have to do better than last week’s P12. Otherwise, it just looks like more talk.”
His expression shifted, his easy grin giving way to a flash of determination. “If it’s a higher position you want,” he said, leaning in just slightly, “then I’ll get it. Just keep watching.”
She crossed her arms, fighting the smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll be watching, Colapinto. Don’t disappoint me.”
He held her gaze for a moment, his eyes flickering with something that felt genuine, earnest. “I don’t plan to,” he murmured, stepping back with a wink before heading toward his car.
As he disappeared into the garage, her heart raced. Franco Colapinto, the rookie charmer, was setting out to prove himself to her. And, as much as she hated to admit it, she was looking forward to seeing if he could keep his promise.
She sat in the media centre, eyes locked on the screen as the race unfolded. Franco’s car was easy to spot, weaving its way through the pack with a precision she hadn’t expected. He was starting further up this time, P18, but it was still a long shot to even think he’d break into the top ten. Yet as the laps ticked by, he held his ground, pushing, clawing his way forward with a tenacity that had everyone watching in awe.
“Impressive for a rookie,” she overheard another journalist mutter, and she felt a strange pang of pride.
Halfway through the race, Franco made a daring overtake, squeezing past two midfield drivers into P10. She sat forward, barely breathing. He wasn’t just hanging on—he was gaining, going after every single opportunity on the track with a fierceness she hadn’t seen before.
He’d promised her he’d finish higher than last week, and she’d thought it was just talk, maybe a little playful charm. But here he was, proving her wrong lap by lap.
By the time he made it to P9, she was leaning forward in her seat, clutching her notebook tightly. And then, with a bold move on the final few laps, he passed another driver, slipping into P8. Her heart raced as she watched him hold his ground, fending off the competition, determined to keep the position he’d fought so hard for. The chequered flag dropped, and Franco crossed the line in P8.
She exhaled, a rush of surprise and admiration flooding through her. She’d known he was talented, of course—he wouldn’t have made it this far otherwise. But this? Climbing ten positions in a single race, all for a chance to prove himself to her? It was more than she’d expected.
As the race ended, she moved through the paddock, her mind whirling. Franco Colapinto, the charming rookie who flirted with everyone, had just delivered one of the most impressive drives of the day. For her. And she wasn’t sure if she was more impressed with his skill or his determination to keep his word.
She barely had a chance to catch her breath before she was back in the paddock, microphone in hand, ready to take on the post-race interviews. As she waited for Franco, she replayed his climb through the ranks in her mind—his nerve, his timing, the way he’d handled himself on the track. It wasn’t just impressive; it was astonishing. And as much as she tried to shake it off, she couldn’t ignore the small thrill that ran through her at the thought that he’d done it, in part, for her.
Finally, Franco appeared, still in his race suit his face glistening with the sheen of hard work. There was a slight glimmer of triumph in his eyes as he spotted her, a grin spreading across his face. He walked over, ignoring the other cameras and reporters, his gaze focused squarely on her.
She raised her microphone, keeping her expression as neutral as she could. “Franco Colapinto, P8—your second race in Formula 1, and already a massive improvement from last week. Can you walk us through it?”
He took a quick breath, then leaned in, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Well, you know, someone told me I had to get higher than P12 if I wanted to impress them,” he said, his tone light but his gaze steady on hers. “So I did it for them. Great motivation.”
Heat crept up her neck, and she forced herself to stay focused. She could feel the eyes of the other journalists and team members on them, her colleagues probably smirking at his obvious attempt to fluster her, but she managed to hold her ground.
“Impressive,” she said, keeping her voice level. “And this ‘motivation’—I assume it’s the same one who’s kept you on your toes all week?”
Franco’s grin grew wider, unabashed. “Absolutely. Turns out, when someone challenges me, I take it seriously.” He shifted his stance, his gaze softening just a fraction. “And if they ask, I’ll do it again.”
A few people around them chuckled, and she fought the urge to roll her eyes. This wasn’t the usual post-race banter, and he didn’t seem interested in giving anyone the typical driver answers. He was speaking to her as if they were alone, and for a brief moment, she almost forgot the cameras.
“Well, whatever you’re doing,” she replied, finally letting a small smile slip, “it seems to be working. P8 is no small feat.”
He tilted his head, as if studying her. “Then maybe next week, you’ll set the bar even higher for me?” His voice was low, just enough for her to hear.
She felt her resolve waver slightly, but managed to maintain her professionalism. “We’ll see, Colapinto. For now, let’s just focus on how you plan to keep this up.”
He chuckled, shifting his grip on his helmet. “Oh, I think I have all the motivation I need right here.” With one last grin and a wink, he turned to greet the other journalists, leaving her to process what was easily the most disarming post-race interview she’d ever conducted.
Later that night, she was back in her hotel room, unwinding with a cup of tea, trying to shake off the lingering thrill of Franco’s performance—and his audacity in the post-race interview. She still couldn’t believe how he’d shamelessly directed half of his answers at her, leaving her just as off-balance as he had on the track. But as much as she tried to dismiss it, her thoughts kept circling back to his determination, his promise that he’d push harder just because she’d challenged him.
Her phone buzzed with a message, and she glanced down to see it was from the William’s Instagram Account.
Team Rep: Hey, what’s your room number?
She frowned for a moment, surprised by the casualness of the message. But teams occasionally followed up with journalists for clarifications or comments, especially after high-profile performances like Franco’s. Assuming they needed to drop off some post-race press notes or team statements, she quickly typed back her room number.
Her: Room 914.
Team Rep: Perfect. Thanks.
Not even a minute later, she heard a quiet knock on her door. She glanced at the time, wondering if the team rep had come by himself. But when she opened the door, the hallway was empty. Instead, resting on the floor in front of her was a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers—vibrant, unruly, and charmingly imperfect, wrapped with a small card slipped between the stems.
Her pulse quickened. She didn’t have to check the note to know exactly who had left them.
Still, curiosity got the best of her, and she crouched down, carefully lifting the bouquet to pull the card free.
“To my motivation: thank you for the push. Let’s raise the stakes again soon. — F.
A soft, reluctant smile tugged at her lips. She felt the warmth creeping up her cheeks, aware that Franco Colapinto had managed to surprise her again. It was a move so bold, so unexpected—and, somehow, more genuine than any casual dinner invitation could have been.
She sighed, shaking her head but unable to fight the smile any longer. As she placed the flowers on the table, their vibrant petals catching the soft light, she couldn’t help but wonder what Franco would pull next to prove himself. Because one thing was certain: he wasn’t giving up. And maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want him to.
She couldn’t resist. Picking up her phone, she sent a quick message, keeping it light, casual.
Her: Cute.
It didn’t take long for his response to pop up.
Franco: Oh? You find me cute?
She rolled her eyes, though her heart skipped a beat as she typed back.
Her: No, the flowers were a cute move.
A beat passed, and then came his reply, playful but edged with a hint of something more.
Franco: Well, then… would you let the guy behind the cute move take you out for dinner?
She hesitated, fingers hovering over her phone. She knew what this looked like—a line blurred between work and something personal, maybe too personal. And for him, a rookie who’d just broken into the sport, one misstep could easily become a distraction he couldn’t afford. It wasn’t just her reputation, but his too, and the stakes felt higher than either of them probably realised.
Her: I don’t know, Franco. There’s too much on the line.
A pause, longer than his usual quick responses, and for a moment she thought maybe he’d let it go. Then his reply came through, brief and simple.
Franco: Okay.
She stared at the word, an unexpected pang of disappointment catching her off guard. Franco, usually so persistent, so bold, had accepted her hesitation without a fight. But as much as she wanted to push away her own reservations, she knew she was right. Still, the thought of him backing off now left her feeling… unbalanced.
Setting the phone down, she let out a sigh, glancing over at the flowers resting on her table. A small part of her wondered if maybe, just maybe, she’d made the wrong choice.
Four weeks later, they were back at the track, Austin, the usual energy humming through the paddock as teams and drivers prepared for the weekend ahead. She found herself scanning the garages, a little spark of nerves in her chest that had nothing to do with work. Franco had kept his distance over the past few weeks—well, as much distance as someone like him could manage. He was still his playful, charismatic self with the press, charming everyone in sight, but there was something different. He hadn’t followed up on his dinner invitation, hadn’t tried to push beyond her boundaries. She told herself it was for the best. Still, a small part of her couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d been too cautious.
Just then, she spotted him near the team’s garage, leaning against the wall in his race suit around his hips, deep in conversation with one of his engineers. When he looked up and saw her, his face lit up, a grin breaking across his face as if no time had passed. She felt a little of that old thrill in her chest as he walked over.
“Hola, stranger,” he greeted, hands tucked into his pockets of his team jacket, his voice as warm and casual as ever. “Miss me?”
She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “You were just here four weeks ago, Colapinto. Don’t flatter yourself.”
He chuckled, giving her that familiar, playful look. “Four weeks is a long time, don’t you think?”
She shook her head, feeling a bit of the tension from the past month melt away. Whatever her own doubts, Franco hadn’t let her brush-off change him—he was still here, as charming and persistent as ever. And somehow, that lifted a weight off her shoulders.
“Have you been behaving?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “Or should I be prepared for more unexpected flower deliveries?”
Franco’s grin grew wider, his eyes flashing with that spark she was growing dangerously used to. “Depends. You miss them?”
She laughed softly, looking down to avoid letting him see her smile. “I’d hardly admit that if I did.”
He leaned in just slightly, his voice lowering. “Good thing I’m a patient man, then. Because I’m not done yet.” There was a softness to his tone, a hint of something genuine beneath his usual confidence, and it made her heart skip a beat.
Despite herself, she found comfort in his persistence, in his way of toeing the line between serious and playful without putting any pressure on her. For all his charm, he hadn’t crossed any lines. He was waiting, leaving the door open if she ever wanted to step through.
As he turned to head back toward his car, he glanced over his shoulder, giving her a wink. “You know where to find me if you change your mind, cariño. I’ll be around.”
And with that, he disappeared into the garage, leaving her standing there with a soft smile, feeling just a little lighter, a little braver.
She found herself glued to the screen as the race unfolded, Franco’s car darting through the pack with all the finesse and raw determination she’d come to recognise in him. Starting from P17, he had a long climb ahead of him, and as the laps ticked down, he kept gaining ground, his timing sharp, his decisions bold. He was relentless, working his way through the grid with an intensity that kept her at the edge of her seat.
By the halfway mark, he was already up to P12, and she could feel the anticipation building among the journalists and crew around her. Franco wasn’t just driving; he was fighting for every single position, taking advantage of each moment with an almost calculated risk. And he was doing it with the confidence that had both frustrated and charmed her from the start.
Then, in the final laps, with a daring overtake on the inside line, he claimed P10. A top ten finish. It was almost too perfect—his words from the last race echoing in her mind as he crossed the line: “If they ask, I’ll do it again.”
The paddock was buzzing with excitement as she made her way toward the media pen, preparing herself for the post-race interview. She tried to tamp down the flutter of nerves, reminding herself that he’d been charming his way through interviews with her for weeks now. But there was something different this time, a spark of pride mingled with her excitement, and she couldn’t wait to see him walk in.
When he finally appeared, the smile on his face was brighter than she’d ever seen. Still in his race suit, a towel on his head, he strode over to her with that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. She raised her microphone, struggling to keep her voice steady.
“Franco Colapinto,” she began, her own smile betraying just a hint of the thrill she felt. “P10 from P17—congratulations. Tell us, how did you manage such an impressive climb?”
He grinned, leaning casually into the microphone. “Well, you know me. I like a good challenge,” he said, his gaze holding hers for a second longer than necessary. “And I couldn’t let down the one person who told me I had to keep improving.”
The implication wasn’t lost on anyone listening, and she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She rolled her eyes slightly, playing it off as best she could. “Seems like you’re making a habit of climbing positions to impress,” she replied, keeping her tone light.
Franco’s smile softened, turning almost genuine. “For some things,” he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear, “it’s worth the effort.”
She swallowed, momentarily at a loss for words, but managed to pull herself together, keeping the interview rolling. “Well, you’ve certainly earned that P10. What’s the plan for next time? Any more surprise performances in store?”
“Oh, definitely,” he replied, flashing her a grin. “But let’s say I’ll aim higher than P10 next time. If someone out there is willing to set a new challenge for me, I’ll be ready.” His words hung in the air, a subtle invitation that made her heart skip a beat.
She couldn’t hold back her smile as she wrapped up the interview, his gaze lingering on her with that same unspoken promise. And as she watched him walk away, her heart raced with the thrill of what might come next, realising that maybe—just maybe—she was ready to see where this challenge would lead.
As Franco walked away, she felt the lingering warmth of his gaze, that same thrill coursing through her that she’d tried so hard to brush off. But now, it seemed, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to. The interview had felt like more than just a casual exchange; his words, his look—there was something real beneath the flirtation, something she found herself wanting to chase.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of post-race coverage and media duties, but her thoughts kept drifting back to him, to the way his eyes had held hers, steady and genuine, as he’d promised to aim even higher. It was only when she caught herself looking around the paddock, almost instinctively, that she realised she was seeking him out. By then, her professional caution had faded, replaced by something far less reasonable but far more enticing.
She knew she was violating so many unspoken rules as she made her way around the paddock, ducking out of the more crowded paths and slipping past the occasional lingering crew member. A pang of guilt buzzed at the back of her mind, but it was no match for the magnetic pull drawing her toward his driver’s room.
She stopped outside the door, exhaling a shaky breath as her pulse raced with a mix of nerves and anticipation. The hallway was quiet, the sounds of the bustling paddock fading away. Before she could second-guess herself, she raised her hand and knocked softly.
The door opened, and there he was, in a grey tracksuit and plain black top, his expression shifting from surprise to that warm, familiar smile that had always managed to disarm her.
“Well,” he said, leaning against the doorframe, his voice dropping to a low murmur, “I didn’t expect my motivation to show up in person.”
She rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding her smile. “I figured I’d come to make sure you’re planning to keep your word. That climb to P10 wasn’t exactly a small feat.”
His smile softened, and he stepped aside, wordlessly inviting her in. As the door clicked shut behind them, the noise and pressures of the paddock slipped away, leaving just the two of them. The look he gave her—warm, unguarded, and almost vulnerable—made her heart skip a beat.
She’d broken so many of her own rules just to get here, but in this moment, she couldn’t bring herself to regret a single one.
Taking a moment to look around, she noticed his bags were packed and ready for the triple header and that there was nowhere to sit.
She sat on the edge of his bed, trying to look at ease despite the heat rising in her cheeks. Franco stood in front of her, close enough that her knees brushed his legs. The room felt charged with his presence, the quiet intensity in his gaze making it impossible to look away.
“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he murmured, leaning down a bit. The way his dark eyes lingered on her, sweeping over her face and holding her gaze, sent a rush of warmth through her.
She felt a smile tugging at her lips, trying to keep her voice steady. “Figured I’d make sure you’re holding up after all that hard work.”
He chuckled, his voice low, with just a hint of playfulness. “Oh, I’m holding up just fine.” He reached out, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek, letting his thumb linger just a moment too long against her skin. “In fact, I think I’m doing better than fine.”
Her cheeks flushed even deeper, but she held his gaze, determined not to let him throw her off-balance—at least not completely. “You know,” she said, trying to match his tone, “you don’t have to turn everything into a line, Colapinto.”
Franco tilted his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Only with you, cariño.”
She let out a soft laugh, her heartbeat picking up as he moved closer, until he was standing right between her legs. She felt his fingers trace gently along her jawline, his thumb tilting her chin up so she was looking directly into his eyes.
“Not used to being flirted with, cariño?” he asked softly, his voice smooth and teasing.
She swallowed, feeling her blush deepen as her usual composure slipped. “No… not like this.”
“Shame,” he murmured, his thumb grazing her cheek as his eyes searched hers, warm and intent. His voice softened, and the playfulness gave way to something more genuine. “Because I’m just getting started.”
She felt her breath hitch, her pulse racing as his words sank in, leaving her both disarmed and impossibly drawn in. And in that moment, she realised that every wall she’d put up around him was slipping away, piece by piece.
For a moment, she couldn’t take her eyes off him, the air between them thick with anticipation. Then, she noticed the small silver chain dangling from his neck, glinting faintly against the fabric of his black top, and without thinking, she reached up, wrapping her fingers around it gently.
Franco’s gaze flickered in surprise, his breath catching as she tugged on the chain, pulling him just close enough that their faces were inches apart. She could feel the warmth radiating from him, and the intensity of his gaze sent a thrill through her that made her heart pound. His hands settled on either side of her hips as he leaned in, their breaths mingling in the charged silence.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she closed the space between them, pressing her lips to his. The kiss was tentative at first, soft and exploratory, but the warmth in his response was immediate. His hand slid up her back, pulling her closer, and she felt his fingers tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss, his touch gentle yet confident.
She didn’t realise how tightly she was gripping his chain until she felt his hand cover hers, his thumb tracing lightly over her knuckles as if to say, I’m here.
When they finally parted, both of them slightly breathless, Franco looked at her, hand caressing her cheek, his smile soft and real, devoid of his usual playfulness. He looked at her with a quiet intensity that made her stomach flip.
“You know," he started, his voice dipping into that smooth, charming tone, “I thought I never had a chance with you. You made me work for every single look, every smile…” He shook his head, his hand still resting against her cheek, his thumb brushing just beneath her jaw. “I was convinced you’d never actually let me get this close.”
She felt a warm, amused smile tugging at her lips as she listened to him, his words genuine but tinged with that familiar, playful charm. Watching him, her heart surged with an undeniable impulse, one she didn’t want to ignore any longer. In one fluid motion, she slid her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down, pressing her lips to his again with a fierce, unrestrained intensity that sent sparks through her.
Franco’s surprise melted instantly, his hands slipping from her cheek to either side of her hips, matching her passion. The kiss deepened, turning slower, almost reverent, as if neither of them wanted the moment to end. She could feel his pulse racing under her hands, his warmth overwhelming in the most exhilarating way.
Without breaking the kiss, she leaned back, drawing him down with her onto the bed. She felt his weight settle gently over her, his hands bracing on either side of her as he kissed her with a hunger that felt both new and inevitable. When he finally pulled back just slightly, his lips hovering over hers, his voice was breathless, a bit dazed.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his fingers tracing down her arm as he held her gaze, a vulnerable softness there she hadn’t seen before.
“Good,” she whispered back, her own voice unsteady, feeling as though her walls were completely gone now. “Because I don’t plan on making it easy for you.”
A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he leaned down, his mouth finding hers again with an eagerness that left them both completely lost in each other, as if the rest of the world had faded away.
Maybe he was worth the wait.
the end.
#f1#f1 imagine#f1 smau#f1 fanfic#williams#franco colapinto#franco colapinto x reader#franco colapinto x you#franco colapinto x yn#williams f1#williams racing#williams formula 1#f1 social media au#franco colapinto smau#formula one x reader#f1 x reader#ann speaks#formula 1#franco colapinto imagine#franco colapinto fanfic
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hihi i love your work and writing soo much and i wad hoping if you could do seventeen reacting to their s/o calling them their husband when they aren't married yet (i hope this makes sense lol) 💗💗
seventeen reaction to you calling them your 'husband'
seungcheol: he goes from zero to full blush in a second. he freezes, hand halfway reaching for his wallet, and then he’s grinning so hard his cheeks hurt. “husband? me? you just made my day, you know that?” he says, all smug, but his ears are bright red.
jeonghan: raises an eyebrow, smirking like you’ve just revealed your master plan. “oh, husband? so, we’re skipping the proposal, straight to the good part?” he teases, leaning over to kiss your cheek. “alright then, what else does your husband want?”
joshua: he’s shy about it, glancing around like he’s hoping the drive-thru person heard it too. then he smiles all soft and leans in close, whispering, “you calling me your husband now? can’t wait to make that official,” and suddenly you’re the one blushing.
junhui: sparkles with pride, looking at you like you just handed him the moon. “husband? well, that’s a promotion if i’ve ever heard one!”
hoshi: it takes him a second to catch it, but once he does? game over. he’s literally bouncing in his seat, grabbing your arm like, “wait, did you just call me husband?!” practically shouting, “babe, i can’t believe you just said that!”
woozi: completely silent, but his face goes bright red. he looks away, clearly trying to hide his shy smile, don't say anything, but thinks about it all day tho, until he cant hold it anymore. “babe... you—we in drive-thru you—umm.. called me husband?”
wonwoo: his lips twitch up into a small smile “husband?” he repeats, liking how it sounds. then he raises an eyebrow. “guess i should start acting the part. anything else my spouse needs?”
minghao: smirks immediately, leaning back in his seat, crossing his arms. “didn’t know you were so forward,” he says all casually, but his cheeks are pink. “but hey, if you wannaaaa start calling me that, i’m not.. complaining.”
mingyu: he’s so shocked he practically yelps. “husband? me?!” he’s grinning like a little kid, unable to hide how thrilled he is. “i can’t believe you just called me that! like, actually? oh my god! did you hear that?” he asks to the attendant.
seokmin: his eyes go wide, jaw dropping as he looks at you in disbelief. “wait… did you just say husband?” he starts laughing out of pure joy... or nervousness, grabbing your hand. “you can’t just drop that on me like that! guess we’re getting serious now?”
seungkwan: “oh my god, did everyone hear that? husband!” he’s clutching his chest like he’s swooning, acting like it’s the best compliment he’s ever gotten. “if this is how you’re gonna talk to me, we better start planning a wedding.”
vernon: just stares at you with those big eyes, blinking like he’s processing what you said. then he breaks into a shy smile, looking down. “um.. first you need to talk with my momma about it” he jokes quietly, a little flustered.
chan: “husband? oh, we’re there already? are you readey? cause im am ready and—” he laughs. “not gonna lie, i kinda like the sound of that.”
#seventeen reactions#seventeen imagines#seventeen headcanons#seventeen scenarios#seventeen x reader#svt imagines#seungcheol x reader#jeonghan x reader#joshua x reader#hoshi x reader#dino x reder#minghao x reader#wonwoo x reader#woozi x reader#jun x reader#mingyu x reader#seokmin x reader#seungkwan x reader#vernon x reader#chan x reader
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beauty and brains || cs55
☆ summary: carlos’ long term partner is an engineering student, victoria’s secret model and all around fam favorite. him and a few others surprise her ahead of the singapore gp!
☆ pairing: carlos sainz x model!student!reader
☆ fc & warnings: kelsey merritt & none
☆ requested: yes!! thank you sm for the request and for your patience🤍
゚. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ゚
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user1: beauty and brains fr
user2: you are everything
yourbff: i can’t even imagine the stress of exams and the show
ynuser: i am so stressed but we shall persevere 😭 last time i ever have to do this!!
yourbff: you have GOT THIS GIRL! you gonna be a graduate so SOON!!!!!
ynuser: going to need some drinks after this is all over
yourbff: say less baby
carlossainz55: my gorgeous girl i can’t wait to see you 🤍
ynuser: i can’t wait to see you in singapore mi amor 🤍
carlossainz55: counting down the minutes. i am so incredibly proud of you
ynuser: 🥹🥹🥹🥹 don’t make me cry carlos
alexandrasaintmleux: you’re going to crush these exams mon ami
ynuser: thank you best friend 😘
user3: vs fashion show?! that is huge! im so proud of you 😭
user4: omg i’m going to the singapore gp too!!! i hope i see you
user5: you are the blueprint
carlossainz55 has posted to his story
[i am so proud of you my love. the sky is the limit and this only the beginning]
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user3: YAYYYY CONGRATS TO OUR FAVORITE PRINCESS
user5: how she managed to get a degree and be a full time model at the same time is so impressive
landonorris: yessssss that’s our girl let’s gooooooo
carlossainz55: could not be more proud!
landonorris: i am having the hardest time keeping my mouth shut abt the fact that we’re going to her show. she keeps talking about how much she misses you and all of us
carlossainz55: if you tell her i’ll drive you straight off track in singapore
landonorris: understood
user6: carlos are you going to the vs show??????
ynuser: i love you so much 😭 thank you for the flowers, im so glad to have gotten them this morning. i wish you could be here!
carlossainz55: it is the least i could do!! i love you more than words could express. i’ll see you soon 🤍
lilymhe: you should’ve gotten her more flowers
carlossainz55: 100 roses is not enough?
lilymhe: nothing is enough when you’re dating the most perfect woman in the world
carlossainz55: i suppose you got me there
scuderiaferrari: we are so proud of y/n!!
user8: begging to know if you’re going to make an appearance at the victoria secret fashion show king
user10: simp ☝🏻
user11: you’ve moved me with this carlos
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ynuser: new york city - it’s time 🪽
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user6: ahhhhh it’s vs time!!!
user8: gUYS is carlos going to be there to support her 😭
user12: i feel like no bc singapore is right around the corner
user8: ugh yeah true but this is so important and he already missed graduation 😭
user12: ik!!! crossing fingers he can make it
user10: the footballers in her likes lol
carmenmundt: so effortlessly beautiful
ynuser: that’s you carmen 😘
carlossainz55: that’s MY girl
ynuser: yes it is 🤍
user9: i’m literally so excited to watch the show later
victoriassecret: can’t wait to see you later y/n 🩷
yourbff: so glad to be here with you 🫶🏻
ynuser: you’re my rock
oscarpiastri: time to shine
ynuser: 💎
user10: that’s our engineering graduate!!! look at her go!!!
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f1gossip: 🚨 breaking: carlos sainz, lando norris, charles leclerc, george russell, carmen mundt, and alexandra saint mleux have all been spotted arriving at the victoria’s secret fashion show in support of y/n y/l/n who will be walking in the show tonight
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user12: user8 he’s there 🥹
user8: i fully screamed this news made me so happy
user12: we love to see the support 😭
user15: no bc i’m about to cry. what do you mean all of them flew out to new york when they’re supposed to be in singapore in 3 days to support their girl y/n/n?????
user22: no because they clearly love her so much im sick
user16: this is an elite pull by y/n
user4: this is everything to me i hope you understand
user19: praying this brings good karma to carlos in singapore
user18: y/n is so loved
user8: she really is 😭
user5: things i will never shut up about: this
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lando.jpg: even though carlos told me to close my eyes more times than i could count at the show, i wouldn’t have wanted to spend 24 hours in nyc with anyone else. congrats to y/n - we all love you muppet
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user3: he revived lando.jpg to congratulate his friend this is so sweet
user55: CARLOS TOLD ME TO CLOSE MY EYES IM CRACKING UP
carlossainz55: thanks for coming with me mate! and yes don’t look at my girlfriend
lando.jpg: my bad mate! i forgot i went to the fashion show to not look at any of the fashion
ynuser: carlos 🙄
carlossainz55: 🤭
user9: who is gonna tell carlos that his girl is a model and it’s literally her job to be looked at in crying
ynuser: landito!!!! i can’t express how happy i was to see you all there. thank you for coming my sweet sweet bestie
lando.jpg: y/n/nito!!!! ofc always happy to support you
user8: the way carlando and y/ncarlando are so close is so incredibly important to me
user43: the second pic of y/n and carlos just called me single in 55 different languages
lando.jpg: same
user43: LANDO
oscarpiastri: lily and i wish we could have been there!!! still so proud of you ynuser
ynuser: you were there in spirit, i felt it
use13: i’m not gonna be normal abt this, sorry in advance everyone
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ynuser: last night was unreal, a total dream come true. ever since i started modeling it was a dream of mine to walk in the victoria’s secret fashion show and i did it!! but what made the night even sweeter was all the amazing people who came to support me. to my carlos, thank you for making that happen 🤍 see you all in singapore!! i need a nap 😴
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user2: you were radiant
user5: the peoples princess fr
carlossainz55: anything for you mi angel
ynuser: i’m the luckiest girl in the world
carmenmundt: i’m so glad i got to be there!!! you are a STAR
georgerussell63: what carmen said!
ynuser: thank you carmen and georgie!! i love you both 🫶🏻
alexandrasaintmleux: proud is an understatement
ynuser: 🥹 i’m so thankful for you
user7: she is the moment
user10: i hope you get the best sleep of your life on that trip to singapore
sabrinacarpenter: gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous
ynuser: 🤍
user9: i’m going to miss you when i scroll
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user3: you need a rest ms girl idk how you’re still standing after exams and the vs show and now traveling to singapore
lilymhe: yayyy lemme come find you
ynuser: yesss please!!! i’m with carmen and alex
lilymhe: yay yay yay yay
user6: praying you bring him good luck today! i am SICK of the dutch national anthem
yourbff: did you sleep the whole flight?
ynuser: omg yes thank GOD. pays to have a bf with a private jet
yourbff; GOOD you needed that
lilyzneimer: i’m so glad you’re here with us 🫶🏻 i missed you
ynuser: i missed you more lils
lilyzneimer: truly not possible
user5: i’m here too!!! hoping to see you ms queen
user9: thank god you’re back in the paddock i missed seeing pics of you there
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ynuser: carlos sainz!!! el matador!!!!! oh my god i am speechless!! you did that baby 🤍
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user55: CARLOOOOSSSSSSSS
user6: carlos sainz winner of the singapore gp!!!! breaker of the mv win streak!!!
user8: tell me you all saw the clip of her crying while watching him on the podium
user2: might have been the cutest thing i’d ever seen
user8: i hope a love like that finds me
carlossainz55: you brought me some luck mi princessa 🤍
ynuser: no luck needed with a drive like that 😍
landonorris: i made the photo dump 🥹
ynuser: of course you did mr podium man
user9: carlando podium is so important to me
yourbff: congrats carlos!!! truly amazing stuff from you
carlossainz55: gracias y/bff
scuderiaferrari: ❤️❤️❤️
user11: i never thought i would care so much about vroom vroom cars but y/n you have shown me the light
user10: oh i love you two so much
゚. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ゚
a/n: thank you for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated. i do be slow af on here with these requests,, my apologies y’all
゚. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ゚
disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction
© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform
#f1 fandom#formula 1#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 smau#f1 social media au#f1 x reader#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#cs55 smau#cs55 x y/n#cs55 fluff#cs55 imagine#cs55 x reader#cs55 x you#cs55 fic#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz#carlos sainz smau#carlos sainz social media au#carlos sainz fluff#carlos sainz x y/n#carlos sainz x you
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i love you i'm sorry, charles leclerc + jude bellingham
summary : y/n y/ln and charles leclerc are the it couple in the f1 universe and when they aren't spotted together for some time hell breaks loose all over the internet. it's not long before y/n starts soft launching a new relationship but unbeknownst to her charles is still keen to get her back. faceclaim : cindy kimberly a/n : pls lmk if u want part 2 because i have so many ideas hehe
y/nusername a girl who is going to be just fine because she has her two boys.
liked by charlesleclerc, kikagomez, landonorris and 2,729,920 others.
charlesleclerc forever mon amour ❤️
y/nusername forever and always x
f1fan829 this is who i want to be when i grow up
user9292 no wag has ever wagged like she has
y/nfan91 crying because why are they acc the cutest ever 😭😭
user_0082 mom and dad
f1lover4eva id acc die if they broke up
username127 the hottest couple to ever exist and i will stand by that ✋️
kikagomez you have me too girl ;)
y/nusername love uuuu
forzaferrari56 love themmm
user11133 idk who im more jealous of actually
༘˚⋆𐙚。⋆𖦹.✧˚
text messages between y/n and charles
yk i love u right ? charles
ofc i do you only tell me like a hundred times a day 😭 y/n
ik ik i just don't want u to ever forget it, god im going to miss you sm over the next few weeks charles
oh baby we'll be okay and besides the monaco gp is less than a month away y/n
ik but i'm really going to miss you charles
such a simp y/n
🙄 charles
i'm really going to miss you too y/n
༘˚⋆𐙚。⋆𖦹.✧˚
charlesleclerc tough race for us as a team, hopefully we can bounce back at the next one 💪
liked by f1, y/nusername, carlossainz and 1,182,929 others.
user182 it's okay pookie we still love you 🫶
f1fan totally not your fault ferrari are to blame again
username67 wtf was that strategy....
f1lover plsss a podium in monaco we believe in you <3
user728 stopp he looks so sad
y/nusername love you always x
charlesleclerc 😘
forzaferrari they are actually just screwing up this whole championship for him
y/nusername 🌟🐇
liked by charlesleclerc, carmenmundt, lewishamilton and 2,018,528 others.
username_89 oh charles i get it
user00 she is literally the prettiest everrrr
f1fan it's giving disney princess
ln4_7 WE NEED Y/N IN MONACO OH PLS I BEG
charlesleclerc i'm so lucky
user116 atleast he's aware f1lover 😭😭
carmenmundt the prettiest angel <3
user728 omgg i need that lip combo rnnn
f1lover yes i am indeed jealous of charles leclerc
f1 monaco gp this weekend !!
liked by charlesleclerc, y/nusername, maxverstappen and 1,302,628 others.
user88 the girls that get it get it
f1fan this is my superbowl
user7202 i've waited all year for thissss
f1lover hoping that charles can acc get the winnn
user728_7 yesss ferrari pls don't mess up his strategy i beggg
user11 hehe can't waittt
y/nusername monaco ✈️
charlesleclerc it feels like a fever dream bit i couldn't be happier, the best weekend on my life. i love you all so much thank you for supporting me.
liked by y/nusername, maxverstappen, carlossainz and 5,728,929 others.
maxverstappen congrats :)
charlesleclerc ❤️ f1fan never beating the lestappen allegations
user78 so we can all collectively agree we all cried when charles crossed the line??
y/nusername so incredibly proud of you my sweet boy i love you so so much
user728 i can't im so emotional rn
username y/n's comment omg im sobbingg
f1fan never ever getting over this
f1updates highlight of my year actually
user266 his smile 🦋🦋
*y/nusername has just uploaded a new video*
》 oh my queen
》 her vlogs are acc my comfort
》 stopp the clip of charles playing piano to her im sobbing
》 her reaction to charles' win is everything
》 her voice is so soothing
》 i got the notification and screamed
y/nusername a quick stop in paris 🥐🇫🇷
liked by charlesleclerc, landonorris, pierregasly and 1,819,729 others.
pierregasly are u happy to be in paris
y/nusername oui
user845 "a quick stop in paris" oh girl u rich rich
username ugh to be leo leclerc like that dog has a better life than me and it's sad honestly
f1fan awww the cutest family
landonorris where was my invite :,(
f1lover whenever y/n posts ik it's going to be good
user78 i don't think i'd be okay if they ever broke up
༘˚⋆𐙚。⋆𖦹.✧˚
texts between charles and y/n
was this whole relationship just a joke to you y/n
did i ever even mean anything to you y/n
fuck of course you did baby i love u charles
you love me?!?! y/n
yes yk i do charles
we have been together 6 YEARS 6 YEARS CHARLES y/n
if you are not ready now, you are never going to be y/n
thats not true charles
yes it is charles y/n
if u don't want to marry me after 6 years of being in love with me you never want to it's as simple as y/n
i'm sorry but i just can't be with someone who doesn't want the same things y/n
charlesleclerc summer
liked by landonorris, maxverstappen, danielriccardio and 7,192,111 others.
landonorris ☀️
user828 i'm speechless
username11 looks like charles got leo
f1fan i miss them
user718 this breakup just can't be real
f1lover he's already replaced y/n with lando 😭
username_55 unless i see a statement or them dating other people i'm just going to try to convince myself it's rumours
anon delulu is the solulu
y/nusername i've never been happier :)
liked by charlesleclerc, carmenmundt, kikagomez and 5,299,551 others.
username_67 👀
user28 this is so petty of her and i love it
f1fan help not charles in the likes
f1_wag i refuse to believe they broke up....yes i'm that delulu
user727 that post breakup glow 😍
f1lover oh charles defo regrets losing her like omggg how can someone be this gorgeous
charlie_7 these pics are so aesthetic i could cry
user51 ik everyone only cares about the drama but GUYS Y/N IS SERVING CUNT
༘˚⋆𐙚。⋆𖦹.✧˚
texts between charles and y/n
please y/n charles
please charles
i can't take it anymore charles
i regret everything i said and i wish i had never even said it i wish i could take it all back charles
fuck i love u sm charles
i don't deserve you one bit charles
yeah you don't y/n
leave me alone charles y/n
we're done y/n
move on y/n
but i can't
*this user has blocked you*
༘˚⋆𐙚。⋆𖦹.✧˚
judebellingham
liked by y/nusername, football728, realmadridfc and 7,929,728 others.
user828 he fine asfff
f1fan guys y/n is in the likes....
username728 what a player 🤍
user_27 great game today jude keep it up!!
f1lover waittt are y/n and jude like dating
user25 omgg stop she just liked his post get over it weirdo
anon charles is better
username_12 great game, but y/n y/ln come on man
y/nusername finally found someone who treats me right 🤭🫶
liked by judebellingham, oscarpiastri , maxverstappen and 4,729,519 others.
user727 BRO WHAT
username i just opened instagram-
f1fan im shooketh
oscarpiastri glad you're happy ❤️
y/nusername thanks x user828 I KNEW IT I KNEW OSCAR WAS TEAM Y/N
user999 oh charles
f1lover f1 wag to football wag is crazy like girl what crystals are u using?????
user_27 ik this was probably supposed to be a soft launch....but girl you just broke the internet
username616 ik y/n is giggling just reading all these comments
༘˚⋆𐙚。⋆𖦹.✧˚
texts between lando and charles
did you see y/n's post? lando
yup charles
are you okay? lando
ha i mean no not at all charles
like its only been like 5 months and i have told her that i want her and i love her and now she's with him charles
sry mate but jude is actually sound lando
shit ik he is that's what makes this worse charles
maybe he is better than me charles
oh charles mate don't be thinking like that lando
lando she's never going to take me back charles
you don't know that lando
she blocked me charles
oh lando
like how am i supposed to sort everything with her charles
maybe you still can lando
how....wdym? charles
write her a song lando
......are u being fr charles
well yes i was but forget it just trying to help lando
no no wait you might actually be right charles
ha your welcome lando
༘˚⋆𐙚。⋆𖦹.✧˚
vogue model y/n y/ln confirms relationship with footballer jude bellingham
liked by f1fan7282, kikagomez, georgerussell and 5,910,011 others.
user9292 ik we all knew BUT WHAT
f1fan charles is probably dying rn
user0 imagine fumbling the y/n y/ln
user0101 jude is one lucky guy
username78 she's still the IT girl in my eyes idc what ya'll say
f1lover girl it's only been a couple of monthssss like chilll
user627 ugh if only i was a rich model living in monaco
y/nlover wait this is acc so iconic
charlesleclerc my first single "i love you i'm sorry" from my debut album comes out tomorrow at 12pm est. i have put alot of work into this and i hope you guys enjoy it just as much as i enjoyed making it. music has always been an escape for me and a way for me to express my feelings so i felt that it was right to put this album out. love you all ❤️
liked by landonorris, lewishamilton, oscarpiastri and 10,729,819 others.
user879 this is actual insanityyyy like sir wdymmm
f1fan oh he's hurtttt
user929 okay okay ik we all know its about y/n but can we talk about how that is literally SIR LEWIS HAMILTON IN THE SECOND PIC TF?!
f1lover i feel like im living through a moment of history rn
lewishamilton love u brother had the best time working on this with you 🙌
16_charlie what can't u do???
user000 my divorced parents
anon screw y/n what a bitch
landonorris your welcome everyone (i encouraged him to write this album)
user727 ha this is why we love u lando !! username22 omgg no wayyy f1fan pls this is so on brand for him
taglist ⭑.ᐟ
@lottalove4evelyn
@llando4norris
@hadidsworld
@sweetestgirlintown111
@mxryxmfooty
@heavy-vettel
#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 fanfiction#f1 fic#f1 fluff#masterlist#f1 2024#formula 1#f1 blurb#charles leclerc#charles leclerc fanfic#fic rec#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc smau#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#jude bellingham#bellingham
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Blooming flowers: Agatha Harkness x Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader
Masterlist
Requested by: Anonymous
Summary: You own the flower shop in Westview, you’re a good friend of Wanda and Agatha, who would have said you were going to fall for them.
Flowers and their meanings are beautiful, even if they are growing inside your lungs.
Warnings: Angst but with happy ending, mentions of blood and coughing also: Hanahaki disease is a fictional disease in which someone who experiences one-sided love coughs up flower petals, and it only ends when the love is returned or the victim dies
Word count: 12.8k
Author´s notes: Hello, sorry for being a little bit inactive, and for the requests I have already been sent, have in mind I will be writing them and posting them, just give me please a little bit of time, also this was a requested story three years ago, so, this was one of the first stories I wrote three years ago, I had posted them on Tumblr on my old account, but due to my mental health, I had to take a break from Tumblr and the toxicity and hate that had suddenly increased, I deleted all of my stories and my old account, now I have decided to upload them again here on Tumblr and also on Ao3.
Also I am almost done uploading all of my old stories of 2021
I hope all of you enjoy this!🥺💕💕
Taglist: @italianaidiota (Hey I am trying to tag you but I do not know why it does no let me) @midnight-lestrange @eliscannotdance
To love one person was something you knew people were used to do, but to love two at the same time?
You did not mean for that to happen.
You didn’t even know how it had happened in the first place, it just happened, so fast, you had fallen for them without realizing it.
You had fallen so quickly and so hard, how hadn’t you realized it before?
At first you had thought it had been just pure admiration for both women, they were so beautiful, so amazing and brilliant, they were fascinating.
To love two people was something you didn’t believe you were going to do, but how could you stop it?
You had just realized it three days ago when a single purple petal had come out of your mouth, you recognized the petal, it was a purple crocus petal, the flower was the symbol of royalty and nobility, it also represented, success, pride and dignity, you related that flower to Agatha, she was so beautiful and had all these traits in her, if a flower could define her, it was this beautiful one.
“Good morning doll” You didn’t hear the ring of your doorbell sounding, you were too distracted thinking about the owner of the voice that had just entered to your flower shop.
“Good morning Agatha” You said to her and unconsciously you smiled, her voice made you heart flutter.
Turning yourself around to see her walking to the counter in which you were behind, she smiled at you and you felt your face getting warmer.
“What can I do for you?” You asked her while placing one of your elbows on the counter, letting your chin rest in your hand.
“Oh, darling you can do a lot for me” She touched your forehead with her finger and you were sure you had a loving expression on your face, you loved all the gestures Agatha had towards you.
“I was wondering if you could make an arrangement of flowers” She inquired looking inside her purse
“Of course, what’s the special occasion?” You asked smiling while taking a piece of paper and a pen ready to write down.
“It’s for Wanda, today’s our anniversary sweetheart” You could hear Agatha’s excitement in her voice, they really loved each other so much, it was beautiful and painful at the same time for you.
“That sounds amazing, congratulations” You were really happy for them, you’ve never seen two people loving each other as much as they did it.
You wrote down in the piece of paper the word anniversary along with the names of different flowers you thought could be the best for the occasion.
“Thanks doll” You didn’t see the expression on Agatha’s face.
“So, which flowers would you like to include in the arrangement?” You asked before lifting your head to look at her.
“I was thinking about some roses” You saw Agatha bringing her hand to her face while she thought, you loved that she always did that whenever she was deep in thought, red roses were beautiful they reminded you of Wanda and her beautiful red hair, for you red roses represented Wanda perfectly, she was such a passionate woman whom you really admired.
“That’s a great election, red roses mean enduring passion, romance and true love”
“I didn’t know that doll, what other flowers do you think would be best to include?” Agatha leant onto the counter placing her hands on it, you thought about it for some seconds after talking again.
“I would recommend you also dahlias, red tulips and carnations” You went to the other counter that had some bouquets with different flowers and you took one of the three flowers you had told her, walking back to where she was you showed them to her.
“In general dahlias can demonstrate the lasting bond and commitment between two people, also they are great for anniversaries, you can choose from red, white, purple and pink dahlias, the meaning can change a little depending on the color, my favorite one is the pink because you can show your love to someone and how that person is irreplaceable in your heart, but never give black dahlias to someone, even though they are beautiful they commonly symbolize betrayal” You said to her in a soft tone, you handed her a single pink dahlia and she took it with a big smile on her face.
“Red tulips are a great choice to express that you love someone deeply, they symbolize passion, romance, eternal love, perfect love and true love, so red tulips are an amazing choice to give to your true love” You gave her the red tulip you were holding in your hand and she gladly took it.
“Now, last but not least, carnations, they mean love and fascination but depending on the color the meaning can change a little, for example, the light red ones mean admiration, the dark red ones mean deep love and affection, white stand for pure love and good luck and pinks usually mean a mother’s undying love, I find carnations to have the purest meanings, here take this one” You offered her a single white carnation.
“All of this is beautiful, thank you for sharing this with me” She told you while carefully caressing the petals of the red rose.
“Any time, so would you like a bouquet of all of these flowers or you want me to tell you about more flowers and their meaning?” You tilted your head a little to look at her
“I think these three types of flowers would do; their meaning is so beautiful”
“Alright so, what color do you want the dahlias and the carnations to be?” You asked her while taking again the pen to start writing down the colors
“I want the carnations to be dark red and the dahlias to be pink” She said in a whisper and you wrote it down the colors in the piece of paper, of course she was going to choose these colors for her girlfriend.
“Alright, is it alright for you to come back in two hours? Or do you need them before?” You asked her while admiring her messy bun, some strands of her hair were falling from her face and down to her shoulders, she was so beautiful it hurt you.
Before she answered you, you started to feel something bothering in your throat and you knew what it was so you tried to clear your throat a little.
“Can you excuse me for a minute, I have to go check if I have baby’s breath for more decorations in the storage room” You said in a rush, Agatha blinked in confusion, she had seen the way you slightly touched your chest, she heard you coughed a little before you disappeared in one of the rooms in the back.
When you were finally alone in the bathroom in front of the sink, you started to cough a little more, you tried not to make a lot of noise because you really didn’t want her to know there was something wrong with you.
You couldn’t let anyone know this, you had only heard about this in the news and how it was a really rare disease that only affected to a small percentage of the population, you didn’t want to think a lot about it, you already knew all the effects, the symptoms and how the disease developed, but you really didn’t want to think about it.
Pressing your hand over your opened lips, your throat finally felt free and you didn’t have the bothering feeling of something in it.
Taking the petal that had come out of your mouth with your fingers, you stared at the single red petal, this time it was a red rose petal and you sadly smiled at the sight, red roses were beautiful they reminded you not just of Wanda, but also the love Agatha and Wanda shared, you could see how much they loved each other, Agatha, Wanda and their kids were a really beautiful family and even if you wished you were a part of that, you felt so bad for wanting to be part of them, you knew you couldn’t and you could never be part of their amazing family, but it was so beautiful to think and dream about it.
You slowly threw the petal into the trash bin before washing your hands in the sink, after that you washed your face as well and passed the Cotton towel over your face to get yourself dry, when you looked at yourself in the small mirror in front of you a sad smiled appeared on your face, you didn’t know how many time you had left, but you were going to really enjoy it.
You had heard many times phrases like “Love can hurt” or “Love can be painful” but you had never stopped yourself to think a little about them and now you found yourself getting lost at nights thinking about how those phrases had a deeper meaning for you.
You sighed before putting on a smile again and walked out of the bathroom, closing the door you walked back to where Agatha was standing in front of the counter.
“It looks like I still have fresh baby’s breath, did you know that baby’s breath mean everlasting love and purity? That’s why I was thinking about adding them into your floral arrangement, also they make a really good decoration” You said with a smile when you were in front of her again.
“That sounds amazing sweetheart, you’re so sweet” You felt Agatha’s hand caressing your hair and her gesture made your heart flutter in excitement, how much you wished that touch was meant to be in a romantic way, but you knew she just did it because she was that way, you knew her good enough to know that she was always like this, your state of pure joy was quickly replaced by a sadness that you knew you had to hide.
“Are you alright? Doll?” The way she called you made you always feel warm, you love all of the endearments she had for you.
“Yes, yes, I’m alright, my throat was feeling a little itchy but I guess it’s just the dust, you don´t have to worry” You tried to shrugged it off, Agatha wasn’t convinced and you saw it on her face.
“So, at what time do you want me to have them? I was telling you that you can come back in two hours but if you need them before I can be faster” You said looking at her with a smile on your face, you really hope she dropped the other topic.
“It´s alright darling I can come in two hours, I don´t want you to rush things” A sad smile appeared on your face at her phrase about not rushing things, you really hoped this illness didn’t rush inside you.
“Alright then, your flowers will be ready in two hours, do you want me to write something in the card?” You asked her while taking a tiny card out of the stack you had in your files, it was simple and elegant, you really loved writing things down in cursive letters, it was so fancy, you have seen and written down many small love letters, some times it was a poem, some other times people just asked you to write some words down, but in the end you knew it was worth it, you loved to think that these tiny details make people feel loved.
You knew some people preferred to show their love and affection giving gifts and one of the best things was to receive flowers, each one of the many different and beautiful flowers had its own meaning and for you that was beautiful.
“What about
-Each flower means exactly what I feel
Even after they wither and their petals fall
My love won´t be something I have to conceal
And my love will stay with you after all.
Even when I fade away
My feelings will be here with you
Our souls will meet in a getaway
And we won´t feel blue again-“
You finished your little poem writing the last words in the tiny card, leaving the black fountain pen on the counter, you took the card in your hand and handed it to Agatha so she could see it.
You saw the way she carefully took it into her hands and you saw the way her lips formed a smile.
“This is beautiful, I didn’t know you wrote poems” She said to you in a whisper and you felt your face getting warmer again
“It´s nothing, it´s something I really like to do sometimes, so, do I attach the card to the flowers?” You asked while trying to hide your face behind a bunch of flowers you had taken in your hands to put them in a new vase.
“Of course, you´re really sweet darling, everything you do is beautiful” You gave her a small smile
“Thank you, Agatha” You said while biting your lower lip a little and she smiled, she thought you were a really sweet person
“I will come here again in two hours, I still have to run some errands, I know it will be beautiful” Agatha waved her hand at you before walking towards the exit of your flower shop, closing the door behind her when she walked out you sighed.
You´ve never loved someone before, not until now and now that you had just got to feel how it felt to be in love, you couldn’t help but think about all the time you had seen two people loving each other and wondering how did it feel to be in love, you had thought that to be in love would feel as you were walking on clouds, you had thought that being in love was like eating cotton candy, feeling the sugar melting in your tongue, tasting the sweet flavor in your mouth, you had thought that being in love with someone was like enjoying a sweet hot chocolate during a cold winter night, you were sure it was like that, but maybe not for you.
You knew some for some people was too easy to find their true love, some people found easy to fall for the right person, but maybe this wasn’t your case, after thinking a lot about it, you had come to the conclusion that maybe you had just come to earth to be a simple bystander admiring how true love was, maybe you weren’t born to be loved, maybe you were doomed only to see how real and true love looked like, and that was why you had fallen in love with two people at the same time.
But why you? Why it had been you the one to get this beautiful but painful and deadly disease?
It was already too painful to be in love and being aware that this love will never be reciprocated, but to have a constant reminder of this inside you made it worse, life was already painful but at the same time beautiful, and what was growing inside your lungs reminded you of the beauty and the pain that came with being in love.
How ironic, flowers always made you feel alive you loved them and now flowers were going to be the ones to take it away from you, at least you were going to feel some kind of love until your last days.
Trying to shrug the thoughts off you went to take the flowers you would be needing to make the floral arrangement for Wanda and Agatha´s anniversary.
You started by accommodating and placing red roses first inside the pretty white bouquet you had chosen, you thought about how many roses you should add, 9 roses to show eternal love, 10 to tell someone they’re perfect or 13 roses? They would never know the meaning of the numbers of the roses, if you put 13 roses you knew the meaning behind the number, it usually symbolizes friendship or a secret admirer.
After some minutes you decided to add just 13 red roses, you were aware that the meaning of this number and you didn’t mean them to symbolize friendship, you knew they didn’t know a lot about flowers, so they would never know; you were careful enough not to hurt yourself with the thorns and when all of them were placed inside the bouquet you took the tulips to start arranging them between the roses.
The next flowers you decided to put were the pink dahlias, you really loved this flower, it was so beautiful, the smooth leaves that belonged to it, the numerous and delicate petals encircling the tiny core of the flower, for you this flower had the purest meaning of all the flowers, to Victorians represented commitment to another person and eternal love for someone, if someone gave this flower to their partner they were showing the deep love they felt for the other person as well as showing appreciation.
Agatha and Wanda were really lucky to have each other, you could see the delicate but strong bond the two of them shared, they complemented each other so well, while Wanda tended to be guided by her heart, her emotions and sometimes her impulsivity, Agatha tended to use her mind, her cleverness, and she always thought on the consequences before doing something, you could see Agatha was the one who carefully analyzed everything, she wanted to know what other different options she could get, meanwhile Wanda rushed things a little.
If Wanda got angry you knew how she could react, she was always ready to fight back whoever who messed with her family, you really loved her passion about things, for you this wasn’t a flaw in Wanda, for you this was strength, she was so passionate about what she believed and what she wanted, Wanda just wanted to protect her family and her beliefs and for you that was awesome.
When Wanda got angry at someone or if Agatha just realized her girlfriend was having an argument with someone, she would always step in to try to calm Wanda and you were amazed how Agatha was the only one who could calm down her girlfriend, you knew the older woman just wanted to make sure that her girlfriend was alright and after calming her Agatha always made sure to say something to whoever who was arguing with Wanda, you´ve never got to know what is it that she says to them, because they always back off with a horrified expression on their faces.
You really loved how Agatha was aware and seem to be conscious on how people would react and she always knew what to say to everyone, how couldn’t you love them?
They were so amazing, you just wanted to feel a little of what it was to be loved, but knowing what was inside you, made your heart ache, it was painful to know that you could just admire them from afar, nothing else, the only thing you could do now was to try to be as supportive as you could and be grateful that you got to be here to admire what true love felt like.
You finished placing the pink dahlias around the roses and you loved the combinations, it was the perfect representation of passion, love, tenderness and softness, the two of them shared such an amazing love, you could only wish, but that was alright, life could be painful but it could be beautiful at the same time, just like roses.
Roses were amazing and beautiful flowers, their petals were something people loved, it is the most common flower that represented love, but people didn’t like the thorns.
That´s life you thought, even with thorns that can hurt you and tear you apart, there was beauty in it, you never understood why people took away the thorns from their stem and they threw them into the trash bin, you didn’t understand it because for you the thorns of the roses, symbolized that even in beauty could exist pain and for you that was beautiful, it was just like life, even with the awful and hurtful things that happened each day, there was beauty in it, you were grateful for seeing what love was like, you were grateful for being able to smell the sweet scent of the flowers, the scent of the wet soil, you were grateful for being able to see the colors of the sky.
Sighing you went to take the dark red carnations to start separating and choosing the best ones to put the flower arrangement, lately you couldn’t help but think on all the things you would miss.
Watching the dark color of the carnations’ petals you found yourself smiling, maybe what you were going to miss the most was the soft feeling of the petals against the skin of your hands and your fingers.
With a sad smile you kept doing what you were supposed to do, placing the last a carnation inside the bouquet you passed your finger over it, admiring the beautiful petals, taking the red tulips to start making the same process of choosing the best ones to put them into the arrangement you smiled, it was so bright and with different shades of red, the pink dahlias looked so pretty between the darker colors, finally you took some red tulips, to represent their true love, they were so lucky to have each other.
Finally, you took some baby´s breath to finish the floral gift, you loved the meaning of these tiny flowers, everlasting love; it was a really beautiful concept when you think about it, to have someone whose love would always persevere sounded so delightful.
You felt you throat getting itchy again and you tried to cough some times to see if something came out, but nothing came out of your mouth, trying to clear your throat it didn’t work at all, you still felt the sensation of having something in your throat so you went to take some water.
You took a glass and filled it with water and when you felt the cool water running down your throat, the tingling sensation went away; you frowned a little because you knew these were just the first symptoms, if this was already making you feel a little uncomfortable you couldn’t think on how it would feel when the final stages came.
You tried to brushed the thought aside an grabbed a small lace to attach the tiny card onto the arrangement, when you were done you stare at the flowers for some time, thinking about how much you were going to miss this.
You were lost in thoughts that you didn’t notice two hours had already passed until you heard the same voice you loved so much.
“Doll you seem deep in thought again” You heard her voice on the other side of the counter and it made you smile; you could never get tired of her.
She was smiling at you, you were sure her smile could light up an entire town, she was so charming, you were so in love with her, were you too obvious? No, you were sure you weren’t obvious, you knew how to keep your feelings to you, or at least you hope you knew how to hide your emotions and the love you felt for her and for Wanda.
“Oh no Agatha I was just admiring the flowers, they´re so beautiful, I think flowers can really talk for themselves, and they can also help us to express what we feel” Your eyes wandered to the different flowers In front of you and your hand caressed the petals of some yellow carnation you had in front of you.
You didn’t get to see the look in Agatha´s eyes, she always thought you were an interesting girl, you were always trying to help Wanda and her, when you babysat the twins, she always loved the way when the two of them came to their house, they would always have an amazing view of you playing a boardgame with them or playing hide & seek.
She walked closer to the counter and she pressed one of her elbows on the counter letting her chin rest in her hand, Agatha found herself amazed by the passion you seemed to have about flowers, you knew a lot about flowers and their meanings, you were so smart, you could arrange beautiful flowers in order to make something marvelous, she always loved all the effort you put in your work, she loved it.
“Oh yes, sorry, you´re arrangement is right here” She was distracted from her thoughts when she heard your voice, you pointed to the beautiful floral arrangement that was on top of the other counter.
“y/n, this is wonderful” Her comment made you smile and the way her face had lit up made you feel delighted.
“Wanda´s going to love it” That made you feel happier, you had made it for the two of them and you really hoped they both liked what you had done for them.
“I really hope so” You said while taking a piece of paper and you tried to hide your smiled behind it, Agatha always found all of your gestures adorable.
“Oh sweetheart I swear, she is going to love it” You saw the way Agatha admired the flowers and you saw her eyes shining, she really knew how to appreciate flowers and you loved it, you were sure she understood how flowers were so delicate but held a lot of power at the same time.
“How much is going to be sweetheart?” You heard her asking you and you bit your lip, you had thought about gifting her the arrangement, would it be too much? Would she think it was inappropriate? You didn’t know, but at the same time, you didn’t know how much time you had left so in the end you thought, why not risking a little?
“It´s nothing Agatha, this is my gift for the two of you” You said to her with a shy smile on your face, you couldn’t see her directly at her face so instead of looking her in the eyes you grabbed your pen and started to write down on it the things that you were almost run out of.
“Sweetheart, no, I have to pay you for this-”
“It’s alright Agatha, really, I want to give this to the two of you” You interrupted her with a soft tone but you didn’t dare to look at her
“Seriously, you don’t have to worry, I want to give this to the two of you, I want this to be my gift for your anniversary, I want to do this, can you let me do it, please?” You softly explained to her and slowly lifted your face a little to look at her.
You saw how her confused expression changed into a happy one, the way her eyes squinted when she smiled made you even fall for her more, you were already head over heels for her so you decided to look away to start writing on the same paper again.
Agatha walked towards you and she placed herself in front of you, her hand went to softly grabbed your hand that was holding the pen and she slowly made you stop writing, her soft hand was on yours and you loved the way she was caressing the back of your hand with her thumb, you felt your heart melting at her touch, how much you wished your heart didn’t confuse things, you knew she was always like that, all the time and you really thought this wasn’t alright, it would only be more painful for you.
But did you really wanted her to stop? Of course not, you wanted to keep feeling her hand against yours, you wanted her to hold your hand and that she would hug you, but you were aware that wouldn’t happen.
“Thank you so much doll, you’re incredible, thank you so much for this, I love it and I’m sure Wanda will love it too, you’re so sweet” You knew she was smiling and you wanted to see her smile, so you raised your hand and saw her face, she was so beautiful.
When she took her hand off yours you instantly missed her touch, but what surprised you was that she brought her hand to touch your face to caress your cheek in a soft way, unconsciously you leant into her touch and you closed your eyes, you were really going to miss her a lot.
“It’s alright, I really hope that you and Wanda enjoy your anniversary” You replied with a smile on your face.
Agatha took her hand off your face and you could see the happy expression she had on her face.
“I’m so happy that you’re here, you make Wanda and I really happy, thank you again for these beautiful flowers, I will think to do something to repay you darling”.
“It´s alright Agatha, really, you don’t have to, I wanted to do this for you, the two of you are amazing, you´re really good friends and I really love the two of you” The seven last words meant something deeper for you, but that was alright, it was alright, this was because of you, this wasn’t their fault, it was yours for accidentally falling for them and you knew it was alright, you can´t rush love nor make it an obligation, you were more than fine with being their friend, and that was what made you feel better, the reassuring feeling that at least you were close to them.
“We really appreciate you as well y/n, you´re always supporting and helping us, we´re happy” You became curious because she stopped talking and she looked down at the counter.
“We´re happy that you´re our friend too” You smiled at her comment and you nodded, you were happy to be their friend no matter what.
“I have to go and hide this, but we can keep talking later” You nodded and you stood straight nodding, Agatha took the floral arrangement and she stopped to look back at you.
“You´re an angel y/n” You were surprised at how easily Agatha could make your heart leap, you didn’t know what to say and unconsciously you bit your lower lip.
“I´ve got to go but this is very important to me, thank you” She said to you while pointing to the floral arrangement you´ve done for them.
Agatha started to walk towards the opened door and when she arrived at the door, she turned herself around one more time to look at you again and she winked at you, you felt heat in your face and you felt as if you wanted to hide.
You saw through the windows when she left in Wanda´s black car, watching the clock you realized it was already time to close your flower shop, it was time to go home.
Was it home though? Of course, it was, it had to be. You were happy this way.
Maybe if you repeat it many times in your head, you will start to believe it until it didn’t hurt anymore.
Stop, you said to yourself, there was no time for sad or self-pity thoughts, you had to keep going, you couldn’t let yourself fall into this increasing sadness, there was still a lot for what you could at least try; you couldn’t let what was growing inside you take away the last feeling of happiness, you needed to try to enjoy life, you weren’t going to waste this time letting the sadness consume you.
You remembered the first time Wand talked to you, she had entered to your flower shop, looking for some flowers to give to Agatha, you still remembered the way she was so excited to give something to the older woman.
“y/n you have to help me” She had said to you pressing her hand on your counter, her eyes were wide opened and fixed on you while her mouth was slightly opened, the view had made you chuckled because she was clearly in a hurry.
“Sure, what do you need from me?” You inquired and she ran her hand through her hair.
“I need to give something to Agatha, we had a little argument and she´s angry at me now, she´s not talking to me at all” You could almost even sense her mood, she bowed her head a little and she seemed to think about what had happened.
“Why is she angry at you?” You asked while tilting your head a little, Wanda raised her head and she sighed.
“It´s really not a big deal, I just, I forgot her birthday” She quickly said, and you chuckled.
“Oh Wanda, how could you have forgotten?” You asked her with a light tone.
“I swear I thought it was tomorrow, I thought today was Friday, I didn’t realize that it was already Sunday, it was a mistake” You saw the way Wanda was pouting and you found it adorable.
“Lucky for you today I have purple hyacinths they are perfect to give in a moment like this”.
You showed her the flowers before talking again.
“These flowers are an emblem of forgiveness and when you give this to someone, it means I´m sorry, please forgive me, you can give her a bouquet of these to show her you´re sorry, I´m sure she will love it”
“They are even purple, you´re a lifesaver y/n these are perfect” You laughed at her comment.
“Do you want to write something in this card? Also, we could put some baby´s breath if you like, baby´s breath mean everlasting love” You suggested and took one of the cards in which you usually wrote down small notes to go with the flowers, you handed the blank card and she carefully took it
“You can write down what you just told me about you mistaking the days and write down something lovely to go with it” You said while handing her a pen so she could write it down, you would have offered yourself to write it down with cursive letters, but you were sure Agatha would appreciate more that Wanda wrote it.
You saw Wanda thinking for some seconds what to write and then she stated to place words into the blank space, you couldn’t help but smile at her.
When she finished writing, she left the pen on the counter and looked at you with a smile on her face.
“What color do you want the lace to be? I recommend you to be white, so it looks good with the purple flowers, or do you want it to be a different color?” You inquired.
“White is good, thank you” You nodded and took a white lace to go with the arrangement.
You blinked when you heard the sound of your alarm in your phone, looking at the screen you noticed you had passed almost an hour lost in your thoughts, it was already 4:00 pm and still you hadn’t closed the shop.
Sighing you walked to the storage room to close it, you had already cleaned everything earlier so now you just needed to close the doors and head to your home.
Taking your keys and saving your phone on your pocket you got distracted by a small bouquet of white lilies, you remembered arranging this bouquet yesterday in the evening when you were about to closed, the flowers were beautiful but it made you sad their meaning, usually people would only give white lilies in funerals and that was because they symbolized peace and tranquility, it was meant to be given to the people who had lost a loved one.
You decided you would take it home with you, flowers always calmed you and even though it was another reminder of how your life was going to, at least it was recomforting to know that you could relate to a flower somehow, this flower meant to you a lot due to the circumstances you were passing through.
Taking the small bouquet in your hands you decided to finally leave and closed the shop, turning the lights off you locked the doors and looked at the empty street.
You were sure most people were in their houses enjoying the day, maybe with family or their loved ones.
What could you do when you arrived at your house? There weren’t many things you could do, you really wanted to do something different to start this new chapter in your life, you wanted to enjoy things as much as you could but at the same time you just wanted to lay in bed.
After minutes of walking you finally arrived at your neighborhood, the feeling of loneliness wasn’t helping your mood.
“Y/n!” You recognized that voice, it was Wanda´s voice, her accent was something you could never forget.
Turning yourself around to look at her you noticed she was walking towards you with a smile on her face and it made you smile too, the slight wind on her made her hair wave a little in the air, she was wearing a black hoody and black jeans, she looked so pretty as always, when she was closer to you, you felt your heart pounding faster in your chest and you were afraid she could hear the beating inside your chest.
You saw her playing a little with the sleeves of her hoody when she finally placed herself in front of you”.
“Hi Wanda, congratulations for your anniversary” You said a little shy holding closer to your chest the bouquet of lilies.
“Thank you so much” The two of you stared at each other for a while until she blinked and cleared her throat.
“These flowers are really pretty, are you going to give them to someone?” She questioned and you shook your head quickly.
“Oh no, no, these are white lilies, these are just given in funerals to try to give some kind of comfort to the people who lost someone” Wanda frowned a little, she was clearly confused, you noticed her expression and panicked a little.
“I just wanted to bring this with me because I know if I let them there alone, they will quickly fade away, so I´m going to take care of them” Wanda eyed you with a strange look on her face, you didn’t want her to suspect anything so you tried talking more.
“So, how are you going to celebrate your anniversary?” You asked moving slightly your eyebrows up and down.
Your question made Wanda´s expression changed; she went from confused to happy in seconds.
“Oh y/n I have a surprise for Agatha, she´s thinking we´re just staying home, but no, I made a reservation in the nice restaurant in the center of the town, she´s not waiting what I have planned for her” You could see that she was really excited, the way her eyes sparkled and her mouth curved into a smile, it was always a joy for you to see her.
“That just reminded me, I was looking for you because I wanted to ask you if you could watch the kids for at least two hours? It´s alright if you can´t” Wanda said the last words in a rushed moving her hands in front of her.
You smiled because this meant you weren’t going to pass the evening alone, this was a great opportunity for you to do something else, also being with the kids always made happy they were really funny and never failed to make you laugh.
“I can watch the kids; at what time do you need me to be there?” You asked her with a grin.
“You can come to our house at 6 pm” You nodded at her.
“Alright, I´ll go to your house at that hour” You really didn’t want to stop talking to her, but you had to. Had she already received the flowers? if so, had she liked them? You really wanted to know but if Agatha hadn’t done it yet, you were sure you were going to ruin the surprise, so you decided it was better not to.
“I´ll take a movie or two to watch it with the boys” You smiled at her, you could see she was thinking about something else but you weren’t sure, she looked as if she wanted to say something but she didn’t dare to, it was alright you could wait, you were really patient, and you had a lot of time.
Wanda kept playing with her sleeves, was she nervous? You couldn’t really tell.
“Well, I think I will go now, I have to prepare myself” She said to you after long minutes of just looking at you and then to the ground again.
“Sure, I´ll see you later Wanda” You gave her one last smile and you turned yourself around to walk to your house, your house was just two houses away from hers, so you just had to walked a little bit more.
You didn’t see that the woman just stood there in the middle of the sidewalk looking at you.
If only you had turned your head to look at her, Wanda thought, if only you had done it, sighing she just lowered her head and walked to the other side.
Wanda and Agatha had already discussed this, but she wasn’t even sure of what they had talked, what if it wasn’t true? She didn’t want to ruin anything, it would be another day, there was plenty of time, or at least that´s what she thought.
。 ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶
Watching the hour in your phone you decided it was time to go to Wanda and Agatha´s house, you always liked to be on time, you took two super-hero movies that you were sure the boys were going to love and walked towards your door, giving a last glance at the bouquet of white lilies you opened the door to walk outside your house.
You rang the doorbell and waited for someone to open the door, you were sure Billy or Tommy would yell at Wanda or Agatha to come to open the door, because they were not allowed to open it by themselves.
“Mom, there´s someone at the door” You heard Tommy yelling and you chuckled, you knew that was going to happen.
“Is not someone, y/n is the one who´s at the door mom” You could even feel Tommy rolling his eyes, rushed footsteps came to the other side of the door and someone opened it for you.
“Y/n!” The boys came out almost running and they hugged you, you patted slightly their heads, you were happy to see them as well.
“Thank you for coming y/n” You heard Wanda saying in front of you and when you lifted you head to see her, you eyed her all of her outfit and felt your face getting warmer, you had to look away because you felt like you were staring; she was wearing a red suit and she looked so beautiful it almost felt like a crime to look at her, you had to remind yourself that she was just your friend just like Agatha, sometimes you even felt guilty for having feeling for them.
Wanda of course noticed the way you had looked away from her so quickly and instead you looked at the floor, she pressed her lips together and tilted her head to look at you.
“You don’t have to thank me Wanda, I enjoy passing time with the boys, they are so funny, also I brought this for you guys” You showed them the two movies they you had picked up and you heard their gasps.
“Oh my god, we´ve been wanting to watch these for the past week, we didn’t know they were already available” Tommy said to you while taking the movies in his hands and passing one to Tommy so he could see the cover, they were excited and you smiled.
“I supposed you were going to say that I know how much you love the saga” You knelt in front of them and they hugged you again.
Wanda was watching you in awe, she always loved the way you look out for them, she knew her boys were in good hands with you, you were so good with them and she loved the way you interacted with her kids, you were so patient and sweet, her heart melted every time she saw these interactions.
“Can we put the movie on the tv, please mom?” Tommy asked his mother whine Tommy nodded aggressively.
“Alright boys, you can go to put the movie on” Wanda said to them and they started to run towards the living room.
“I´ll take care of them and I will make them go to bed on time” You said to her while still trying not to look at her.
Wanda was about to say something, but someone knocked on the door and you frowned, who could it be at this time?
You placed yourself behind Wanda and she opened the door revealing Agatha standing there with the arrangement of flowers, you were surprised because you had thought she was already inside, you could see she was wearing a black blazer dress and she looked so beautiful.
“Agatha?” You heard Wanda asking the older woman and Agatha stretched her hands with the arrangement out to Wanda so she could take it.
“Happy anniversary love” Wanda took the arrangement in her hands and she placed a soft peck on Agatha´s lips, their love was so beautiful and once again you found yourself looking away from them, you knew this was too personal for them, you were not part of it and you felt like an intruder, you didn’t want them to bother them so you walked towards the living room, leaving the two of them so they could enjoy their beautiful moment together.
It broke your heart but you had to accept this was not your world, it was theirs and you had to just accept it, this dumb heart of yours, why it couldn’t understand this wasn’t yours, this wasn’t your life and you would never be part of it.
“Hey kids, did you already put the movie on?” You asked the kids when you arrived at the living room, they were already sitting in the couch.
“Yes, yes, come sit with us y/n” They asked you and you put your ginger on your chin feigning to think about it.
“Of course, but don´t you want some popcorn?” You saw the way their faces lit up and they nodded, you laughed at their reaction at the mention of popcorn.
“Well, then I will go to make some” You were just going to the kitchen when you heard your name being called, turning yourself around you saw Agatha and Wanda walking towards the living room, Wanda walked closer to you with the arrangement in her hands.
“Agatha just told me you gifted us this” Shyly you nodded and unconsciously you bit your lip a little, you couldn’t help it, it was something you did when you were nervous.
“Thank you so much, this is amazing” Agatha put herself behind Wanda to look at you.
“It´s nothing I really wanted to give something to you, I knew this was a special occasion so I wanted you to have it” You whispered while you touched your hair with your hand.
“Mum y/n was going to prepare some popcorn, you´re distracting her” Tommy recalled and the three of you laughed.
“That´s true I better get going otherwise the prince here will get desperate” You joked gesturing with your hand as if you were telling a secret.
“I´m don´t want to be a prince, I want to be a hero” Pouted Tommy.
You rolled your eyes playfully at Wanda and Agatha and the redhaired woman chuckled.
“You better go, I don´t think you want to be late for your date” You said to them, you didn’t understand why they hadn’t left yet.
“Yes, you´re right, we have reservations, we will be back in two hours, before the boys bedtime” Wanda said to you and you saw how the boys stood up from the couch to hug Wanda and Agatha, you couldn’t help but feel like if you were an intruder, turning yourself around to look at the flowers in one the vases on one of the shelves, and you sadly smiled, the roses inside the vase were withered, you knew that withered flowers meant rejected love, how ironic, you thought.
“Be good boys” The two kids had returned to the couches and this time you turned yourself around to finally look at them again.
“We´ll coming later y/n” You nodded, and they smiled at you, after that they walked to the door to finally go, when you heard the door closing you sighed.
“I´ll go to prepare the popcorn, you can start the movie without me kids” They nodded without looking at you.
Entering to the kitchen you went to look inside the cupboards, you saw one container that had written with marker in it “pop corn kernels”, you didn’t know who had made it but it made you laugh a little.
It took only ten minutes for the popcorn kernels to pop, after that you placed them in a bowl to let them cool a little, being here on Wanda and Agatha´s house made you feel like if you were home, you felt safe here but at the same time you knew you didn’t belong here, this was not your place.
Trying not to think about that you took the bowl in your hands and went back to the living room where the boys were almost glued to the tv.
“Here is a bowl full of popcorn” You handed the bowl to them and they thanked you before grabbing it.
You were just about to sit in the couch when you started to feel the itchy sensation in your throat, but this time you felt it more, you started to feel the urge to cough, this time it was more violent, you didn’t just feel your throat itching this time it was really an uncomfortable feeling.
You tried to hide the fact that you were coughing but you knew you couldn’t hide it for a long time.
“I´ll be back in some minutes guys” Standing as quickly as you could from the couch you rushed yourself to arrive at the bathroom, opening the door of it you quickly closed it trying not to make a lot of noise.
The feeling was awful it was as if you couldn’t breathe, you tried to take deep breaths, but it was hard to breathe, the tickle in your throat started to be unbearable and trying to clear your throat many times the feeling didn’t go away.
The sound of the movie was loud enough for you to hear it even inside the bathroom so it was safe for you to make more noise, you couldn’t stand the feeling and your coughs started to be more aggressive even to the point where you thought you were choking.
After what it felt like hours finally you spat purple and red petals into the sink, you couldn’t believe how many petals had come out of your mouth, there were several and still you felt as if you couldn’t breathe properly.
Trying to clear your throat again, hoping that the uncomfortable feeling would go away, but it didn’t, after calming a little, you tasted blood in your mouth, but you were confused, just some days ago you had just spat two or three petals and now there were more, was it possible that the disease could have progressed more in just some hours? That couldn’t be possible right?
You took the petals that were in the sink and threw them to the trash bin, now you were a little scared, this was happening so fast, you were afraid now, and you couldn’t even tell anyone.
Washing the sink, you proceed to wash your hands with the liquid soap, splashing some water into your face and drying yourself, you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t believe what had just happened.
You couldn’t even explain what had happened at all, why had you suddenly started to cough in such a violent way?
Looking at yourself in the mirror you noticed that what it looked like little veins were visible in your chest and part of your neck, you were sure those weren’t veins, they were the roots of the flowers growing inside your lungs, they were barely visible but you could see them if you pay enough attention to them.
You came back to the living room and you felt relieved that the boys hadn’t noticed anything, you really didn’t want them to notice anything, it wasn’t good.
“Do you want some?” You heard Billy and saw he was offering you a can of soda.
“Thanks” You smiled and took it from his hand, they were good kids and the situation you were in made you fear, you were going to miss them, you were going to miss spending time with them and with ther mums, you had been preparing yourself for what you knew was going to happen, but now you were afraid, it had hurt a lot and the sensation of not being able to breathe was awful.
You couldn’t focus on the movie playing in front of you, there were many things going on in your head at the moment, everything was happening so fast and even though you had thought you were ready, but in fact, you weren’t.
You felt too tired that you didn’t even notice you fell asleep on the couch next to the kids.
。 ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶
You felt a hand shaking you a little, and slowly you opened your eyes to see that in front of you was Agatha with her hand on your shoulder, you quickly straightened and sat upright, how much time had passed since you fell asleep? At what time had they arrived?
“What time is it?” You blurted out.
“It´s 9:30” Agatha said softly, and you grumbled a little.
"I’m sorry I fell asleep, I don’t know what happened, I just felt so tired, I’m really sorry” you said to her, you felt guilty about it.
“It’s alright doll, you don’t have to apologize, are you alright?“ Agatha asked you and you quickly nodded.
"The boys told us they had heard you coughing in the bathroom, y/n, is everything alright?” Asked Wanda coming closer to you to sit next to you in the couch.
Your eyes went wide opened because you had sworn the boys hadn’t heard you.
“Darling earlier in the flower shop you were coughing as well, I heard you, are you sick?” At Agatha’s question Wanda frowned, she was concerned about you.
“I’m fine, I’m more than fine, maybe it’s just a cold” Agatha and Wanda exchanged looks, they were really concerned because you looked tired and paler.
“I think it’s too late and the twins have to sleep just as you, so I think it will be better if a leave” You rushed yourself to say.
"We can accompany you to your house if you want-
“No, not it’s alright, my house is just three houses far from yours, so I’ll arrive quickly”.
They were confused because they didn’t understand why you were in such hurry to suddenly wanting to leave, they could see that you really wanted to go, but it was strange to them, that you didn’t even say goodbye to the kids, they really didn’t want to pressure you, but they really cared for you deeply, and your behavior was strange, they really wanted to help you, but they couldn’t if you didn’t let them first, they could sense there was something in the wind.
They exchanged looks and just let you go, they will have time in the morning to talk to you again, their worry won´t be appeased until they were sure you were alright.
Looking at you are walking outside their house and closing the door with such quietness was odd for them.
“I think there´s something off with her” Wanda whispered to Agatha and the older woman nodded, it was true, there was something going on with you.
“I know love but what can we do if she doesn’t let us know?” The dark-haired woman inquired with a disappointed tone.
“What if we…?” Agatha´s eyes widened, and it was clear that she knew what her girlfriend was talking about.
“No, we can´t do that to her, we will be breaking her trust Wanda!” Agatha rushed to say to her while taking Wanda´s hands on hers.
“But otherwise how are we going to know what´s happening to her?” Agatha gave a disappointed look at her.
“No, I said no, we won´t read her mind, we can´t do that, if we do that, she´s going to feel betrayed and you know it, we have to wait until she feels ready”.
“Alright, we won´t do that, I´m sorry, it´s just that I feel really concerned, I can´t be in peace knowing there´s something affecting her” Wanda said while caressing the back of Agatha´s hand with her thumb.
“I know but she just needs some time” Agatha tried to reassured her girlfriend, the older woman left a soft kiss on Wanda´s forehead before standing up from the couch to go to the bathroom to was her hands.
Entering to the bathroom and letting the water run down she had to turn the faucet off because something caught her attention at the bottom of the floor.
“Wanda?” She called for her girlfriend and the worried tone in Agatha made her walk faster to the bathroom.
“What´s going on?” Agatha´s heart was beating faster against her chest, she prayed it wasn’t what she wasn’t thinking.
“Are those petals?” Wanda asked confused kneeling a little to have a closer look at them.
“But they have blood in them, Wanda, do you think that, maybe those came from her?” Agatha´s hand started to shake a little and Wanda covered her gasping mouth, quickly standing up from the floor.
“That must be why she´s been coughing a lot, but who´s doing this to her?” Wanda grabbed her girlfriend´s hands in hers and she hold them closer to her, fear was what they were feeling at that moment, the uncertainty of what was going to happen from now on, the fear of you fading away like a withered flower scared them to death.
It wasn’t unfair, you were so bright, you were so smart, you could light up every room even a whole city, you just brough joy to the lives of the people you talked to, why was this happening to you?
“It´s not fair Agatha” The dark-haired woman pulled Wanda closer to her chest and they stayed ther for some minutes.
“I know it´s not fair, she doesn’t deserve this” Tears were threatening to fall from the corner of her yes.
“We have to talk to her, I thought she needed time, but we don´t even know how much time she has left, maybe we can do something, I know we can save her, alright?” Wanda just nodded against her chest, she really hoped they could save you.
。 ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶
When you arrived at you house you tried to sleep, but you couldn’t sleep at all, you felt as if something was pressing your chest, you couldn’t breathe well, and you knew very well that indicated the roots were growing more, they were starting to obstruct your lungs.
You had been thinking about this for the whole week since it had started, but the truth it was that you still weren’t ready to leave this life, the simple thought of your breathing stopping frightened you, you weren’t ready at all.
Turning and tossing all nights because you couldn’t sleep made you feel frustrated, the mere thought of full flowers coming out of your mouth scared you, you knew that in some more days full flowers would come out of your mouth and you were going to feel real pain due to the thorns of the roses, for the first time in your entire life you wished you could have never loved someone, you knew it wasn’t their fault, you kept blaming yourself, it had been your fault, if only you weak heart hadn’t fall for them, if only you had been born with an incapacity to love, this wouldn’t have been so painful, you had tried to suppress the sadness that you knew deep down you felt, for days you had tried to suppress it, trying to act as if you were calmed and that you were alright with the thought of flowers blossoming inside you, but the truth was that you weren’t alright with it.
The urges to cough again came to you and this time it was harder to contain it, you went to the bathroom faster as you could you didn’t even have time to spit them into the sink, you did it right at the entrance of the bathroom, the coughs were more violent than hours ago, you were almost choking with the amount of petals coming from your mouth, the beautiful petals were covered with your own blood and you couldn’t even stand the sight, you were trembling, but you had to clean out, so that´s what you did.
You were scared, the only mistake you had done was to love them and now you were suffering, you couldn’t just stand the thought of them never loving you back, they were happy with each other and you knew you had to feel happy for them, but you just wanted to be selfish at least for tonight, just for tonight you wanted to cry and get rid of all the sadness and pain you felt in your chest, the thought of no one loving you and dying with a broken heart was awful, you didn’t want anyone else to feel what you were feeling, you didn’t wish this to anyone.
You wished you could stop loving them, but you couldn’t, you couldn’t, you had fallen for them, you will be facing death in some days, flowers obstructing your lungs and throat was a tragedy but, was it a beautiful tragedy? Now you just wanted them to notice how much they meant to you and the feelings you had for them, but you knew you couldn’t this to them, it was so unfair for them, you had to suffer in silence, they could never know what was growing inside of you.
The next day when you finally woke up after only having some hours of sleep you went to the bathroom to wash your mouth and spit some more purple and red petals out of your mouth.
You saw your reflection on the mirror and you could see that the roots were now more visible than yesterday, they look a lot as if they were veins, but thy were too many; passing softly your fingers over your skin you could even swear you could feel them under your skin.
Washing your mouth so the taste of the blood could go away you heard the doorbell rang, who could it be at this hour? It was too early in the morning.
Opening the door, you were surprised to see the two people who you loved the most with worried looks on their faces.
“Who’s doing this to you?” Wanda asked with tears on her eyes, she was pointing at you, Agatha and Wanda entered to your house, making you placed yourself to the side of the door so they could enter, and you just felt astonished what were they doing here on a Sunday morning? And did she mean?
“What are you talking about Wanda?” You asked her while closing the door behind you.
“Don´t lie to us y/n” Agatha had a sad look on her face that made you feel hurt, you´ve never seen her like this.
“We saw the bloody petals on the bathroom´s floor” Wanda came closer to you her tone of voice was full of concerned, you sighed and closed your eyes lowering your gaze, you couldn’t see them in the eyes, you had been afraid that they could notice it and they already knew because you couldn’t hide the petals.
“We want to help you. Who´s doing this to you?” Agatha took your hands in hers and you let out a bitter laugh.
“I can´t tell you” You whispered, and Wanda softly rubbed your shoulders.
“We just want to help you, don’t push us away” You didn’t want to push them away, but what else you could do? It wouldn’t help you at all.
“Why don’t you want us to help you? We´re your friends- “
“That’s why you can´t help me, I´m sorry” You blurted out and dropped Agatha´s hands, you couldn’t tell this to them while looking at their eyes.
“I´m sorry, alright? I didn’t mean to fall, I couldn’t stop myself, when I realized it was already too late” Tears came out of your eyes, moving your hands in the air trying to get some kind of relief to the pain in your chest.
“I can´t help myself, I can´t stop myself from loving you, and I´m sorry, this is not fair for you, this is all my fault”.
Covering your mouth with you hand, you tried to silence the sobs coming out from your mouth.
“y/n” You heard Wanda´s voice calling you behind you.
“Please, I can´t do this, not now” You didn’t turn yourself around to look at them, so they put themselves in front of you.
“Baby girl, you don’t have to be ashamed of your feelings” Agatha wanted to grab your hand but she wasn’t sure if it would be the best to do, she didn’t want to make you feel more upset.
“We thought, you were in love with someone else, and that broke our hearts, because we thought we were going to lose you” This time it was Wanda the one who spoke
You couldn’t look at them, so you didn’t lift your head, you just kept looking to the floor.
A soft hand came to your chin, Wanda´s hand softly lifter your head with her hand but still you couldn’t look at them.
“Please printsessa, look at us” You shook your head and tried to move her hand away with yours, but Agatha stopped you, instead she grabbed your hand and hold it into hers.
“We feel the same y/n, we´ve been wanting to tell you, but we didn’t know how o when to do it, we were scared that you weren’t into it, we thought we could only have your friendship, but darling we can cure you, we feel the same” What had Wanda said?
“That´s not true, you can´t joke with that!” You didn’t know where the anger had come from.
“She´s not joking, she´s saying the truth y/n, we feel the same about you” Agatha tried not to raise her voice, she didn’t want to upset you she just wanted to make you believe them.
“Stop lying, I´ve read many times that there are cases in which the other part just lie so they don´t have to feel guilty about this, please, you don´t have to lie, I already accepted, this is not your fault, you don´t have to lie to make this stop”
“We´re not lying!” Wanda said suddenly raising her voice.
“How could we be lying about this?” Wanda´s voice was desperate; you could hear the desperation in her voice.
“You have to believe us, we´re not lying doll” Agatha´s voice was filled with grief.
You didn’t know what to believe, what if it was true? What if they were lying just because they didn’t want you to die? There many possibilities, you didn’t want them to be lying but you couldn’t believe that they were saying the truth, suddenly it started to be hard for you to breath, it started to be more painful to breath, you felt a strong pressure on your chest, the sensation of something making pressure inside your throat made you choke, you couldn’t breathe.
Instantly you knelt on the floor, gasping for some air.
“What´s wrong? y/n?” The view horrified them, you were choking, you were trying to breathe but you couldn’t, they saw the way you pressed one of your hand to your throat, trying to relief the pressure in your neck.
You felt something coming out of your mouth and even when you tried to spit it you couldn’t, you felt it was too big and you couldn’t even spit it.
“We have to do something Agatha, she´s choking, there´s an entire flower coming out of her mouth, we can´t let her die!” Wanda was shaking with fear and the tears keep streaming down her face.
Agatha came to your side to hold your body against hers, you were passing out due to the lack of air, you were closing your eyes and it scared her.
“I will try to remove them from her lungs with my magic, I don´t what´s going to happen, but we can´t let her die Wanda, you have to help me” Agatha told her while holding your body against her and Wanda came to her side, Wanda opened your shirt a little and the saw the roots of the flowers, they were a lot inside your chest and they could see them underneath your beautiful skin, Agatha couldn’t contain her tears anymore and even though she wanted to scream she tried to maintain calm.
The two of them pressed their hands on your chest and purple magic and red came from them, some stems were already coming out of your mouth and they could see that more red petals were coming out, they really hoped this could help you, they were scared, Agatha wanted to remove the seed of the flowers, the seeds of your painful and deep love for them in order to save, Wanda knew what this meant, but if that meant to sabe your life, she was going to do whatever even if that meant, you would never love them again.
。 ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶
You woke up in a room you´ve never seen before, but you recognized the smell of the perfume that lingered in the room.
You remembered what had happened and quickly you looked at your chest, there was no trace of the roots underneath your skin, the pressure in it wasn’t there anymore and finally you didn’t feel the annoying sensation of something itching in your throat.
You heard the door being opened and you saw Agatha and Wanda entering to the room, Wanda looked as if she had been crying, her eyes were puffy and a little red as well as Agatha´s eyes.
“What happened?” You asked them when they were close enough of you, Wanda sit next to you and Agatha sit next you to as well on the other side of the bed, they were both by your sides.
“We saved you” You blinked many times, how had they done that? You thought that the seed could be removed only by surgery.
“But that´s impossible how-¨ You stopped talking when you saw Agatha´s hand making a movement with her hand and purple mist covered her hand.
“We saved you, we didn’t want you to die, we removed the seeds from your lungs, as well as the red rose that was blossoming” You could hear sadness and Agatha´s voice but you didn’t understand why, suddenly you felt a hand holding yours.
“We almost lose you; we were so scared; you were asleep for three days! I thought you weren’t going to wake up again” Wanda was crying again, Agatha´s hand came to rub your shoulder a little, you didn’t understand why they were so sad.
“But I´m here, you saved me” You said to the two of them, holding both hands in each one of your hands.
“You saved me and I´m grateful for that, I was so scared I was going to die” You saw how the two of them exchanged a look and Wanda stood up from the bed.
“We have something for you” She looked back at Agatha and you saw that she was nodding at her, you were confused, why were they being so secretive.
Wanda left the room and minutes later when she came back to it you saw she was holding a bouquet of flowers; you felt your heart leapt at the sight of the beautiful Ambrosias.
“We wanted to give you this, we know how much love flowers, and even after what happened, we´re sure your love for them, will be the same” You felt your lip trembling a little and you took the small bouquet in your hands, of course you knew the meaning of the flowers, but did they knew?
“What does this mean?” You asked them while eyeing both women.
“It means exactly what you are thinking, doll” You felt like you were going to cry at any time.
“We weren’t lying y/n, we made a research about what flowers someone can give to the loved one, we wanted to let you know that our love for you is mutual, we´re not sure if you still feel the same, but we just wanted to let you know how we feel” Agatha explained to you, never letting go of your hand.
“But my feelings for you haven’t changed, why do you think that?” Wanda blinked several times.
“You mean, that you still feel something for us?” Agatha asked you while squeezing your hand a little.
“Yes, I don´t know why you think my feelings changed” You said with a shy smile.
"So, now you believe us?” Asked Agatha and you shyly nod.
“Now, this means we can have a chance?” You felt your heart beating faster against your chest, you could swear the blush in your face was visible.
Agatha couldn’t help herself and she hugged you passing her arm around your waist when she separated from you Wanda was the next to hug you, just as the same way Agatha had done, one of her arms passed around your waist.
“You don’t know how happy you just made us y/n now we can have what we have been wanting for a long time, you don´t need to hide anything from us, you can trust us y/n” Agatha´s hand was caressing your cheek while Wanda softly stroked your hair.
You didn’t know what was going to happen from now on, but you were happy, this was your new chance to live, and you were going to make sure you enjoy it this time, the pain and sadness wasn’t inside your heart anymore, you felt content and with the two women there with you, you knew you weren’t going to feel sad again, you were happy that weren’t lying and all of what had happened you were sure, had been worthy.
“Now we can be the ones to give you flowers baby girl” Agatha´s voice distracted you from your thoughts.
“You are aware I own a flower shop, right?” Wanda laughed and Agatha playfully rolled her eyes.
“Yes, we´re aware of that, but we can still give them to you, we already know the meaning of many flowers we can give to you, to show our love for you” Wanda hold your hand and finally you understood how it felt to be loved.
#agatha harkness#agatha harkness imagine#agatha harkness x fem!reader#agatha harkness x reader#mcu imagine#mcu x reader#agatha all along#agatha x reader#agatha harkness x you#wandavision#wanda maximoff fanfiction#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff imagine#wanda maximoff#wandagatha#wanda x agatha#agatha x wanda#wagatha
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The Whispers at Howlett Manor
Your parents are forcing you to marry Lord Howlett in hopes of securing the future of Langley House. However, there is more at play than you realize.
lord logan howlett x fem!reader - no use of y/n, light reader description, reader has a last name - langley for story purposes, angst, forced marriage, regency era stuff, brooding logan, reader is stubborn, reader has sisters and a family, some fluff towards the end, sexual tension, light enemies to lovers, logan is a softie
a/n: Okay, so i love pride and prejudice/bridgerton (anything like that) so it was only a matter of time before i wrote something like that for logan. Anyway, this was going to be inspired by bridgerton but ended up being more inspired by logan’s comic book childhood mixed with just regency typical era stuff.
Also, i literally didn’t think this would be this long (i will admit the ending isn’t the best, i got tired of writing/kinda got writers block so sorry). also sorry it took so long to post but it's long af.
word count: 28k
“Must you always be so difficult?” Lady Langley’s voice carried across the room like the crack of a whip, sharp enough to pierce through the layers of the emerald chiffon being draped over your shoulders. The maid fumbled with the fabric, her hands trembling as she tried to secure the delicate buttons along your back.
You drew a long breath, pressing your lips together to steady your voice. “Mama, I have done everything you asked,” you said, your tone strained but calm. You waved the maid away, your impatience slipping out in the motion.
“Everything?” your mother scoffed, her fingers coming up to massage her temple in a familiar gesture of frustration. “Dearest, you have done the opposite of everything. That dreadful scene at dinner the other night—do you even realize how close you came to ruining us? Lord Howlett was barely polite by the end of it.” She turned, her skirts sweeping across the polished floor as she began to pace, the rhythmic click of her heels only adding to the mounting tension.
You spun away from the mirror, the sight of your own reflection—eyes dark with resentment, cheeks flushed with the heat of suppressed anger—was too much to bear.
“Why must it all fall to me?” you burst out, meeting her gaze with a defiance that startled even you. “Why must I be the one to endure it all, to wear the fine dresses and force a smile, as though I am some precious porcelain doll to be displayed? Did you and Father not bring us to the brink with your own decisions?”
Lady Langley’s eyes widened at your boldness, though whether with indignation or a glimmer of guilt, you couldn’t say. “We did what we had to do for this family,” she replied, her voice low and tremulous. “And now, you must do your part. Marrying Lord Howlett will restore everything. His wealth is our salvation—our only chance to keep Langley House from crumbling.”
You turned back toward the mirror, but not to admire your appearance. The gown was exquisite—deep green with gold stitching along the neckline, chosen for the way it complemented your hair and hinted at your mother’s hope that it might catch Lord Howlett's eye once more.
All you saw was a stranger trapped in silks, her future bound to a man she hardly knew. A man whose stern gaze and gruff manners at the dinner table had left her with a vague sense of unease.
A man who seemed old enough to be your father, though still handsomely rugged, with a strength in his bearing that spoke of battles fought far from the comforts of an English drawing-room. Lord James Logan Howlett—his name alone seemed to carry a weight that threatened to crush you beneath it.
“I will not be sold off like cattle,” you said quietly, almost as if testing the words. The defiance wavered in your chest, but it was there—small and growing. “You cannot force me, Mama.”
Lady Langley’s gaze softened, if only for a moment, and her hand reached out but stopped just short of your shoulder. “My dear, there is no force. Only necessity,” she whispered. “Think of your sisters. Think of your father’s health. We cannot afford a scandal.”
The room seemed to close in, the walls heavy with expectations that clung like dust to every surface. You felt the weight of it pressing down, smothering that flicker of defiance before it could truly catch fire. There would be no escape from the duty laid upon your shoulders—not without dragging the entire family down with you.
As the maid returned to finish securing the gown, your gaze drifted back to the mirror, catching a glimpse of your own reflection. You tilted your chin up and straightened your spine, forcing yourself to appear composed. You would have to play the part—at least for tonight.
The question lingered in the back of your mind: Who would Lord Howlett be, once the doors closed and the pretense fell away? It scared you more than you cared to admit.
Without another word, your mother swept out of the room, leaving behind only the faintest rustle of silk in her wake. You exhaled, shoulders drooping as the maid finished pinning the last curl into place. Downstairs, the murmur of your sisters' voices drifted up, accompanied by the distant sound of your father’s halting footsteps.
As you descended the grand staircase, your sisters gathered at the foot, their eyes bright with excitement and curiosity. “Oh, look at you!” one exclaimed, reaching out to brush the delicate fabric of your gown. “Such a beautiful color,” another said, her fingers tracing the lace trim with envy.
Your father stood at the end of the stairwell, leaning heavily on his cane. His smile was gentle but tinged with a quiet weariness. “You look lovely, my dear,” he said, extending a hand toward you. His voice had lost some of its usual strength, but there was still warmth in his gaze as he squeezed your fingers. “I am sure you will have a splendid time at the play.”
You returned his smile, though it felt stiff, as though someone had drawn it onto your face with a trembling hand. “Thank you, Papa,” you replied softly. “Though I—”
Your mother’s sharp voice cut across the hallway, shattering the moment. “You shall behave tonight,” she declared, appearing around the corner with a frown etched so deeply into her face that you wondered if it had been permanently carved there. “Do you understand?”
You sighed, dropping your father's hand as your sisters scattered like birds startled by a hawk. “Yes, Mama. I understand.”
“I am serious, girl.” Lady Langley stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as though she could will obedience into you through sheer force of will. “The Dowager Lady Elizabeth Howlett is to be your chaperone, and I have heard she is not a woman inclined to kindness. This is your last chance to make a favorable impression on Lord Howlett.”
Before you could reply, your father interjected, his tone soothing, yet strained. “My love, she will be fine. There’s no need to fret.” He reached for his cane again, wobbling slightly, and one of your sisters, who had been listening around the corner, darted forward to steady him.
You took a step toward him to help, but a knock echoed from the front door, interrupting you. The butler promptly moved to answer it, revealing Lord James Howlett and his mother standing on the threshold.
Lord Howlett’s dark, brooding eyes swept over the entryway, landing on you with an unreadable expression. His face was set in its usual stern lines, the strong jaw rigid as though it had forgotten how to soften. Beside him, Dowager Lady Elizabeth Howlett stood with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her thin lips pressed into a line of disapproval as if the very air of Langley House was beneath her.
“Good evening, Miss Langley,” Lord Howlett said, inclining his head slightly. “I trust you are ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be, my lord,” you replied with a polite curtsy, though your tone carried a hint of edge. “It is, after all, only a play.”
The faintest glimmer of something—was it irritation?—flickered in his eyes. “Indeed. Perhaps you might endeavor to watch this one instead of glancing longingly toward the exit.”
You arched a brow, a small, mirthless smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “I assure you, my lord, I shall be entirely captivated—provided, of course, that the performance is not as stiff as some of the company I keep.”
The Dowager’s eyes snapped to you, sharp as a hawk’s. “Mind your tongue, girl,” she said in a low voice that dripped with condescension. “A lady ought not to jest so carelessly.”
“Oh, but I am quite in earnest, Lady Elizabeth,” you replied, meeting the older woman’s gaze with a practiced sweetness. “I would not dare make light of such an important evening.”
Lord Howlett’s lips twitched, not quite forming a smile. “Let us hope, then, that your enthusiasm lasts until the final act,” he said, offering his arm. “Shall we?”
You hesitated a moment before taking his arm, the rough fabric of his sleeve brushing against your skin as you settled beside him. His posture was rigid, as though every step was calculated to maintain the distance between you, and there was a tension in the air that crackled like static.
“Tell me, my lord,” you said as you descended the steps together, “do you always bring your mother along when courting?”
His gaze slid sideways to meet yours, a dark brow arching slightly. “Perhaps I thought you might benefit from a proper example of decorum,” he replied, his voice as dry as autumn leaves.
You tilted your head, your lips curving into a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “How considerate of you,” you said. “Though I should warn you—I’ve never been easily subdued. Even with a watchful eye upon me.”
“Then let us hope,” he said quietly, “that you find something worth behaving for this evening.”
Together, you descended the steps with Lady Elizabeth two steps behind. You climbed into the carriage and the weight of the Dowager’s gaze bore down on you like a cold hand gripping your shoulder. Lord Howlett settled opposite you, his expression veiled in shadow, and for a moment, you wondered if there was more beneath that brooding exterior—something other than duty and disdain.
The thought was fleeting, and as the carriage lurched forward, you turned your attention to the dimly lit streets outside, wondering if the play would prove to be the most engaging performance of the evening, or if the true drama lay in the careful dance of words between you and the man who might soon be your husband.
────୨ৎ────
The play had begun with a flurry of activity on the stage, enough to momentarily capture your interest. But as the actors’ exaggerated gestures dragged on and the dialogue grew stale, your thoughts drifted elsewhere. By the halfway point, you were tapping your finger impatiently against the gilded armrest of your seat, biting back a yawn.
Lord Howlett sat beside you, his posture rigid, gaze fixed on the performers as if he were determined to will some life into the lackluster production. Behind you, two rows up, his mother, the Dowager Lady Elizabeth Howlett, sat in conversation with Lady Drummond, her sharp whispers cutting through the quiet like a needle through cloth.
“Must you do that?” Lord Howlett murmured, his voice low and taut, though he didn’t look your way.
You arched an eyebrow, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “If you mean by ‘that,’ not falling asleep in my seat, then yes, I must. This play is dreadful.”
His jaw tightened, the muscles working beneath the skin as though he was grinding down the words he truly wished to say. “It is hardly the fault of the actors if your attention span is as short as your temper,” he muttered.
You bristled, half-turning toward him. “Or perhaps, my lord, it is because I find greater amusement in watching the dust settle on these velvet curtains than in enduring one more moment of this drivel.”
Without waiting for a reply, you stood and swept out of the aisle, the swish of your gown echoing in the hushed theater as you made your way down the dimly lit hallway. The air was cooler out here, and you took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of relief and defiance coursing through you. Surely, there must be something more engaging than sitting like a doll, pretending to be enthralled by dreadful theatrics.
“Miss Langley.”
The clipped voice was unmistakable, and you rolled your eyes before turning. Lord Howlett had followed you, pushing the theater door open with a firm hand, his expression shadowed and irritated as he stepped into the corridor. “You cannot simply leave in the middle of a play,” he said, his tone laced with exasperation. “It is beyond improper.”
You let out a dry laugh and crossed your arms. “I can do as I please, my lord. If I find myself losing the will to live through another act, I shall not sit there and suffer just to uphold some antiquated notion of propriety.”
He took a step closer, his brow furrowing as though you were some curious creature he was trying to decipher. “Why must you always defy what is expected of a lady?” His voice dropped lower, edged with something like genuine bewilderment. “It seems you take a particular delight in making a spectacle of yourself.”
“It seems you take particular delight in brooding and casting judgment,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes at him. “Is that not a spectacle in its own right? Or is it simply the pastime of a man who finds fault in everything and amusement in nothing?”
For a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something else in his gaze—amusement, perhaps, or even admiration. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the same stony look he always wore. “You think this is a jest?” he said, his voice low and rough. “You have no idea what is at stake.”
You scoffed, turning away from him and pacing a few steps down the corridor. “Oh, I am well aware. My family’s reputation, our fortune—such as it is—dangles by a thread. You are meant to be our savior, are you not?” You whirled back to face him, your eyes flashing. “I am to marry you and secure my family’s future, regardless of my feelings on the matter.”
He stepped closer still, his eyes hardening as he looked down at you. “You do have a choice, Miss Langley,” he said, his voice almost a growl. “You may refuse me, of course. You may tear up the marriage contract and walk away. But do not pretend you are unaware of what will follow if you do.”
You felt the sting of his words, the cold truth in them. “You mean the ruin of my family, the loss of our home, our dignity?” you replied, bitterness curling in your voice. “You think I do not know what is at stake? I know it better than anyone.”
“Then why do you resist so stubbornly?” His tone was quieter now, the anger ebbing into something else, perhaps even a touch of weariness. “Do you truly wish to see Langley House crumble? Your sisters scattered to find their fortunes, your father’s health worsening under the strain of financial ruin?”
Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the bravado slipped. “Of course not,” you said softly, the fight draining from your voice. “But that does not mean I wish to spend my life bound to a man who sees me as a duty—a burden, even.”
His expression shifted something unspoken passing through his gaze. “I do not see you as a burden,” he said, though the words sounded as though they cost him something to admit. “But I will not pretend this arrangement is anything other than what it is: a necessity.” He took a step back, his jaw tightening once more. “However, necessity does not mean cruelty. I would not make your life a misery, Miss Langley. I may not be the husband you would choose, but I would see to it that you do not suffer.”
You searched his face, looking for some hint of insincerity, but found none. “You speak as though you would do me a favor,” you said, your voice quiet but edged with defiance. “But I cannot help but wonder if you say this only because you, too, have no other choice.”
He inclined his head, a faint, humorless smile curling at the corner of his lips. “You are selfish,” he said, his voice low and edged with disdain. “You would let your family slip into ruin simply because you find me... unlikable? Is your pride worth so much, Miss Langley? Why can’t you be an obedient lady and do what is required of you?”
“Obedient?” You scoffed, the word scraping against your throat like gravel. “Oh, I see. I am a dog to be trained, then? A creature to sit and stay at your command?” You stepped closer, defiance burning in your gaze as you met his eyes without flinching. “That is where we differ, my lord. You would have a wife who falls meekly at your side, a pretty ornament to nod and smile on cue. But I would rather have a husband who doesn’t haunt brothels while demanding loyalty in return.”
His expression hardened, a flash of something dangerous igniting in his eyes. The silence between you was like a blade drawn taut, ready to cut. “You do not know me, Miss Langley,” he said quietly, the words seething between clenched teeth. “You presume to judge, but your knowledge is nothing but rumor and spite.”
“Then enlighten me, my lord,” you shot back, your voice rising despite yourself. “Tell me why the other ladies of the ton avoid you like a blight. Explain why a man of your wealth and standing must settle for a bride who has no choice in the matter. It seems to me that you are as desperate as the family you claim to save.”
His jaw tightened, and for a moment, it seemed as though he might reach for you—whether to silence your insolence or pull you closer, you could not say. But he kept his hands at his sides, though they were balled into fists. “Watch your tongue, Miss Langley,” he said in a voice so low it was nearly a growl. “You speak of things you cannot understand.”
“Then perhaps you should make me understand,” you replied, refusing to back down. “Because what I see before me is not a savior but a man grasping at the last thread of respectability. If you think marrying me will somehow restore your standing, then you are the one who is mistaken.”
He exhaled sharply, a bitter laugh escaping his throat. “You truly believe you have the upper hand here, don’t you?” His gaze flicked over you, as though appraising something less than worthy. “But let me make this clear, Miss Langley. It is not just your family’s name that hangs in the balance—it is your sisters' futures and your father’s health. Or do you not care about that, either?”
The words stung, and for a moment, the fight drained from your voice. “Of course, I care,” you whispered, the anger giving way to something more vulnerable. “But do not expect me to be grateful for a fate I did not choose, nor for a man who believes he can command my respect by demanding it.”
He took a step closer, and you felt the warmth of his breath as he spoke. “And do not expect me to offer comfort where there is no gratitude,” he said, his voice a rough murmur. “I do not need your approval, Miss Langley, only your cooperation. Your disdain matters little in the grand scheme of things.”
“Then you shall have my cooperation,” you said, your voice steady even as a knot tightened in your chest. “But make no mistake, my lord—cooperation is all you will ever have. If you are hoping for an obedient wife to dote on you, you shall find yourself sorely disappointed.”
“Obedience is not what I seek,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. “But I will have a wife who understands duty. That, at least, I can count on from you.”
You turned your face away, refusing to let him see the flicker of uncertainty that stirred behind your anger. “Then you shall have what you wish, Lord Howlett,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. “But do not mistake duty for affection. You may secure this marriage, but my heart is another matter entirely.”
For a moment, his expression softened like a cloud breaking to reveal the faintest glimmer of light behind it. Then it was gone, replaced by that same stern resolve. “Affection,” he repeated, as though the word itself were a foreign concept. “I think we both know that sentiment has little place in arrangements such as these.”
With that, he turned and strode back toward the theater, leaving you standing in the dim corridor, your breath coming a little too fast, your pulse thrumming with a mix of fury and something unsettling that you could not quite name. The door closed behind him, muffling the distant applause from the stage and the dull murmur of voices, leaving you to wonder whether this confrontation had left either of you any closer to understanding the other—or if it had merely drawn a deeper line in the sand.
The carriage had barely rolled to a stop outside Langley House when you flung open the door and stepped out, your movements quick and agitated, as if you could outrun the suffocating weight of the evening. The cool night air bit at your cheeks, but it did nothing to soothe the roiling in your chest. All you wanted was the solace of solitude, to shed the layers of pretense like a stifling gown.
Your steps had scarcely touched the gravel drive before you heard the heavy thud of boots behind you.
"Miss Langley." Lord Howlett’s voice cut through the quiet, steady, and unyielding as ever. His mother, the Dowager Lady Elizabeth, called after him with an impatient huff, but he paid her no mind.
You quickened your pace, the glow from the house’s lanterns casting long shadows along the steps ahead. "I wish to be alone, Lord Howlett," you said sharply, your voice fraying at the edges. The marble step was slick with evening dew, and your foot slipped, your balance faltering.
In an instant, his hand was at your elbow, steadying you before you could tumble forward. The grip was firm, strong enough to remind you of his presence but not rough. Still, the warmth of his touch burned like an affront, and you wrenched your arm free, glaring up at him. "Do not touch me," you hissed, taking a step back.
His jaw tightened, but he did not retreat. "We need to speak about the marriage," he said, his tone low and even, though there was a trace of something gentler beneath it—a reluctant concern, perhaps, that seemed to soften the hard line of his brow.
"There is nothing to discuss," you scoffed, folding your arms tightly across your chest as if to barricade yourself against him. "The terms are clear—I have no choice in the matter, so let me have at least this one freedom." You gestured toward the door behind you, your voice trembling with anger. "Allow me to go inside and be alone before I am forever bound to you."
For a moment, he said nothing, merely studied you in the dim light, his gaze searching yours as if he could see the truth buried beneath your defiance. He exhaled a soft, reluctant sound. "You think I wish to force this upon you?" he asked quietly. "You think I delight in binding myself to a woman who loathes the very sight of me?"
"Then why follow me out here?" you retorted, your voice rising despite yourself. "If you do not wish to force my hand, then why not leave me be?"
"Because," he said, his voice firming again, "if there is even the slightest chance that we could find some common ground—some understanding—then we owe it to ourselves to try." He took a cautious step closer, his expression gentling just a fraction. "I do not want a wife who feels trapped," he murmured, as though the admission cost him something. "But I cannot simply walk away from this marriage without condemning your family to ruin. Nor can you."
You hesitated, caught off guard by the faint softness in his tone. It was the first time he had spoken of the marriage as something other than a grim obligation, the first time you glimpsed a hint of vulnerability in him—like a crack in a fortress wall, small but real. "And you truly believe that 'understanding' will change anything?" you asked, skepticism thick in your voice.
"I believe it could make the difference between a life of misery and a life of endurance," he replied, his eyes never leaving yours. "Or perhaps even... something more." The words were spoken so quietly you almost doubted you’d heard them right, but there was a sincerity in his gaze that made your pulse quicken in an unfamiliar way.
You swallowed, the chill of the night air seeping into your skin as the anger ebbed, replaced by a cautious unease. "And what would you have me do, my lord?" you said, your tone softer now, though no less guarded. "Pretend to be content? To play the obedient wife you seem to think I should be?"
"No," he answered, his voice rough with honesty. "I would not ask you to pretend. I would ask you to give us a chance to learn who we truly are, beyond what is expected of us." He hesitated, then added, almost hesitantly, "You may find that I am not the monster you imagine me to be."
A bitter laugh escaped you despite yourself, and you shook your head. "You ask much of me, Lord Howlett," you said, taking a step back toward the door, your hand finding the cold brass of the doorknob. "But I shall consider your... proposal, if only because it seems I have little choice in the matter."
He inclined his head, accepting your words with a solemnity that surprised you. "That is all I ask," he said quietly. "For now."
Without another word, you turned and slipped inside the house, the door closing behind you with a soft click. As you leaned back against the cool wood, you pressed a hand to your chest, where your heart still raced with the remnants of anger and something unsettling.
It was a small concession, what he had asked for—a chance. Whether it would lead to any true understanding between you was as uncertain as the flickering candlelight in the dim entryway.
────୨ৎ────
For the past few days, you had managed, almost miraculously, to forget the looming specter of your engagement to Lord Howlett. The bustle of your sisters’ chatter and the endless duties of tending to your father’s needs kept your thoughts mercifully occupied. It wasn’t until afternoon tea, in the quiet stillness of the drawing room, that reality began to creep back in.
"Dearest, you should be getting ready," your mother said, her tone as clipped as the neat pour of tea into her porcelain cup. She glanced at you over the rim, the same expectant look in her eyes that always made your stomach twist.
"Getting ready?" you echoed, glancing up from the delicate pastry you had just bitten into. "Whatever for?"
She set the teapot down with a soft clink. "Lord Howlett is calling upon you this afternoon. I told you several times already—he said it was urgent."
You paused, your brows knitting together in confusion. "I don’t recall—"
"Of course, you don’t," she cut in, already turning her attention back to the list she kept by her saucer. "But mark my words, he’s coming to make his proposal official. It is time you finally accepted your future, dear. There are matters to be arranged, details to prepare for the wedding. You should be grateful he’s being so… proper."
The word grateful sat uneasily on your tongue, and you swallowed it down along with your annoyance. Pushing back your chair, you rose hastily, a flutter of unease stirring in your chest as you rushed toward your room. The idea of marrying Lord Howlett had begun to seem less daunting—he had not been altogether unkind, and there was a certain steadiness about him that could be called reassuring. The thought of him proposing, of that moment when he would slide a ring onto your finger and the arrangement would become irrevocably real, sent a jolt of panic through you.
When you entered your chambers, you found your maid already laying out a gown of ivory muslin—a gesture of assumption that made your cheeks burn with resentment. Still, you let her help you into the dress, her fingers quick as they tied the ribbons and smoothed the fabric. You wore your hair loose, allowing it to tumble down your back in soft waves; an act of small rebellion, for you knew your mother would have preferred it neatly pinned.
By the time you descended the stairs, Lord Howlett was already waiting in the drawing room, standing near the window where the afternoon light softened the harsher lines of his features. He turned as you entered, his gaze sweeping over you with a measured look that betrayed nothing.
"Miss Langley," he greeted, inclining his head with that familiar formality. "Thank you for receiving me on such short notice."
You curtsied, your movements practiced and restrained. "I was told you had something urgent to discuss, my lord. I must confess, I am curious as to what could not wait."
His lips twitched, not quite a smile but something close. "Then I shall not keep you in suspense." He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a small, velvet box, opening it with a quiet snap. Inside, nestled against the dark lining, was a ring—a delicate band of gold set with a single emerald, flanked by two smaller diamonds. The green stone gleamed in the light, as deep and rich as the forests of Howlett Manor.
You were surprised by the quick stab of pleasure that rose in your chest. "The ring… it is beautiful," you admitted before you could think better of it. You caught his eye and saw something flicker there, a brief, almost imperceptible softening.
"I hoped you would like it," he said quietly, and for a moment, the tension that always seemed to hang between you loosened ever so slightly. "The emerald reminded me of—" He stopped, glancing away as though he had already said too much. "Well, I thought it would suit you."
A silence stretched between you, more thoughtful than awkward, before he cleared his throat and closed the box, slipping it back into his pocket. "There is also another matter," he said, his tone returning to its usual steadiness. "My mother is hosting a ball in our honor tomorrow evening. She insists it will be a grand affair, and I—" He hesitated, as though weighing his next words. "I would be honored if you would accompany me, Miss Langley."
"A ball?" you repeated, and though you meant for your tone to sound disinterested, you couldn’t quite keep the hint of dread from creeping in. "So soon? I would have thought we might… wait, given the circumstances."
"Lady Elizabeth is not a woman inclined to wait," he replied, a wry twist in his voice that was not without sympathy. "She wishes to make our engagement known to society without delay. It will be… expected, of course, that we present a united front."
"Naturally," you said, though the word felt bitter on your tongue. You looked away, toward the gilded clock ticking away on the mantel. "And what, precisely, would that united front entail, my lord? Do you expect me to pretend to be a willing bride, eager to embrace my future with you?"
He was silent for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was low, almost kind. "I expect only what you can give, Miss Langley. If all you can manage is civility, then that will suffice."
You glanced at him, taken aback by the gentleness in his tone. "You surprise me, Lord Howlett," you said, your voice softer than before. "I did not think you capable of such… understanding."
"I am not as devoid of feeling as you seem to believe," he replied, a faint, rueful smile tugging at his lips. "But I would not have you think I am resigned to a marriage without hope of something more than mere obligation." His gaze met yours, steady and unyielding. "If there is any chance at all that we might find some semblance of happiness, I would take it."
The words lingered in the air, as fragile and uncertain as a new leaf on a winter branch. You hesitated, and a small part of you were reluctant to dismiss him entirely. "Very well, my lord," you said at last. "I shall attend this ball, and we shall play our parts for society. But do not mistake my agreement for acceptance."
"I would not dare," he murmured, and there was the faintest hint of relief in his voice. He pulled the velvet box from his pocket handing it to you before taking his leave.
You found yourself opening the box, glancing at the ring once more, that emerald stone glinting like a tiny spark of hope. It was a beautiful ring, you thought, though whether it would come to signify a promise or a prison remained yet to be seen.
────୨ৎ────
"My, my. Howlett Manor is even more magnificent than I imagined," Lady Langley breathed, her voice hushed with awe as the two of you stepped into the grand entryway.
The butler bowed with a practiced grace, and the quiet echo of your footsteps on the marble floor seemed to emphasize the vastness of the space. "This is to be your home, dear," she added, her gaze drifting upward to the vaulted ceiling, where intricate plasterwork and painted frescoes caught the morning light.
You huffed softly, resisting the tug at your heart. The manor—no, the estate, as it ought to be called—was indeed more splendid than you cared to admit, though you had steeled yourself not to show it. Even from the approach, its beauty had been undeniable: the sprawling gardens with their perfectly trimmed hedges, the marble fountain in the circular drive, its water sparkling like diamonds, and the lush oak trees lining the path like silent sentinels. Yet the sight of the interior, with its polished wood paneling and gilt-framed paintings, stirred something inside you that you could not quite name—a feeling somewhere between wonder and resentment.
"It is... pleasant," you said at last, the word falling flat even to your ears. Your tone was deliberately blasé, a feeble attempt to veil the fact that the grandeur of Howlett Manor made Langley House seem almost shabby by comparison. You watched your mother drift toward a painting—a portrait of some long-dead Howlett ancestor, his expression as stern as the current lord's.
"Pleasant?" She shot you a disapproving look over her shoulder, one brow arching in that way that always made you feel like a child again. "Do not be coy, dearest. This estate could rival a palace, and you know it." Her voice took on a lilting quality as she turned back to admire the ornate chandelier suspended above you, its crystals glittering like a thousand tiny stars. "It will be quite the step up from Langley House."
You bit the inside of your cheek, turning away from her. "If only that were the most important consideration in a marriage," you murmured, more to yourself than to her. As if marble floors and gold leaf could ease the unease that settled in your chest. The manor may be exquisite, but it was still a cage, albeit a gilded one, with walls that seemed to close in the moment you stepped inside.
Just then, a door on the far side of the hall opened, and Lord Howlett emerged, his dark gaze sweeping over you and your mother with a hint of appraisal. His expression softened—though only slightly—as his eyes settled on you. "Miss Langley, Lady Langley. I trust the journey was not too taxing?" His voice was low and measured, as though politeness was a formality he had long since mastered but did not particularly enjoy.
"It was quite manageable, thank you," your mother replied, flashing him a practiced smile. "And I must say, Lord Howlett, your home is truly breathtaking. I believe my daughter finds it to her liking as well, though she is being rather modest about it."
You bristled at the suggestion and shot Lord Howlett a look that was equal parts defiance and wariness. "It is certainly... impressive," you said, your tone more guarded than before. "Though I would imagine it feels rather empty at times, with all this space."
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "It is certainly quieter than the bustling atmosphere at Langley House, I imagine," he said, with a slight lift of his brow. "But I assure you, it is far from lonely."
His words hung in the air, and you wondered if there was an unspoken meaning hidden in them, something deeper than mere pleasantries. For a moment, you allowed your gaze to wander over the grand staircase that swept upward, the dark wood banisters gleaming under the chandelier's light, and the tall windows that overlooked the grounds, where sunlight poured in, bright and unforgiving. It was a beautiful place, undeniably, but it wasn’t yours.
"Well, I suppose I shall have to grow accustomed to all this… splendor," you said, your voice softer now, almost resigned. "After all, it will soon be my duty to see that Howlett Manor is properly kept." The words felt strange on your tongue, as though you were speaking of another woman’s life.
Lord Howlett’s expression shifted, just a touch. "It will be more than a duty, Miss Langley," he said quietly, his gaze steady on you. "I would have you feel at home here. In time." There was a note of sincerity in his voice that gave you pause, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered if he truly meant it—or if he was simply trying to soothe you like one would a skittish horse.
You nodded, though you did not entirely trust yourself to reply. The weight of the ring on your finger suddenly seemed heavier, its emerald catching the light with a glint that reminded you of promises yet to be fulfilled, and choices that had been made for you long before you ever set foot in this grand house.
"Come, dearest," your mother interrupted, her voice bright with forced cheer as she swept back over to you. "Lord Howlett’s mother is expecting us for tea. We wouldn’t want to keep the Dowager waiting, now would we?"
You inclined your head in reluctant agreement and began to follow her, but just before you reached the door, you glanced back at Lord Howlett. His gaze met yours, and for a brief, disquieting moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something genuine there—a glimmer of hope or perhaps doubt. Then he turned away, and you were left wondering if you had imagined it altogether.
────୨ৎ────
"I am pleased you accepted my invitation for tea," Lady Elizabeth said, her tone as cool and crisp as the fine china from which she sipped.
The butler moved gracefully between the three of you, filling cups with practiced precision. "I am a very busy woman, as you can imagine, but I thought it prudent to speak with you before the ball this evening." Her gaze slid over you and your mother with an assessing look that felt more like judgment than welcome.
Your mother offered a polite smile, though you could see the strain in it. "We are honored, Lady Elizabeth. I have heard so much about your journeys. You must have seen some remarkable places. I do envy such a fulfilling life… though, of course, my duties keep me at home with my family."
Lady Elizabeth’s lips tightened as if your mother's words had struck the wrong chord. Her eyes—cold and calculating—rested on you, and you could feel the weight of her scrutiny. It was clear she did not much care for the Langleys, despite the upcoming union. Perhaps she tolerated this match because it served her son’s purposes, but not out of any fondness for you or your family.
Sensing the chill in the room, you made an effort to soften the atmosphere. "You must have had some wonderful experiences. Where do your travels take you, Lady Elizabeth?" you asked, attempting a pleasant tone.
The older woman waved the butler away, her movements sharp as she took up her teacup once more. "All over England, and occasionally the Continent. I have been fortunate enough to travel extensively," she said, though there was a faint trace of bitterness in her voice. "Of course, it was never meant to be a solitary pursuit. My late husband and I had always dreamed of seeing the world together." She paused, her expression hardening. "Alas, we do not always get the lives we wish for."
Your mother nodded sympathetically, though Lady Elizabeth seemed to pay her little attention. "How dreadful, losing one's partner," your mother said softly. "It must be some comfort to have your son by your side."
Lady Elizabeth gave a faint, humorless chuckle, setting her cup down with a little too much force. "Logan?" she said, as though the name itself tasted sour on her tongue. "He is a dutiful son, I suppose, though I always did wish..." Her voice trailed off, and she pressed her lips together in a thin line before continuing, "Well, it does not matter. One cannot change what is already done."
You felt a jolt of surprise at her words. There was no warmth when she spoke of Lord Howlett—only a veiled disappointment that seemed to cut deeper than mere disapproval. The realization unsettled you, and against your better judgment, a small pang of sympathy stirred in your chest. What must it be like, you wondered, to be judged so harshly by one’s mother? To be seen as little more than a reminder of unfulfilled dreams?
"Lord Howlett has been… kind," you offered, your voice gentler than before. "He has made efforts to make me feel welcome."
Lady Elizabeth’s sharp gaze flicked to you, her eyes narrowing as though she could sense the faintest hint of defense in your tone. "He is a man who understands his duty," she said curtly. "Nothing more, nothing less. But you would do well not to mistake that for kindness, Miss Langley. He has his father’s temperament—stubborn and unyielding. It will not be an easy life for you, no matter how pretty the ring on your finger."
Her words were like a slap, though you weren’t entirely certain if they were meant for you or her son. The way she spoke of him, as though he were a disappointment, made your chest tighten with an emotion you hadn’t expected—pity. It was a curious thing to feel toward a man you’d only just begun to know, but it was there all the same, lingering at the edges of your thoughts like a stubborn shadow.
Your mother quickly changed the subject, her voice a touch too bright. "Well, Lady Elizabeth, I must say, your home is simply splendid. The ball will surely be the event of the season." She turned to you with a pointed look, the silent reminder clear: Remember why we’re here. Play your part.
"Yes, I’m sure it will be… lovely," you murmured, though you felt none of the enthusiasm your mother’s words suggested. The idea of the ball—a grand spectacle where you and Lord Howlett would be displayed like fine wares, a symbol of union that felt far from heartfelt—made you want to retreat even further into yourself. But retreating was not an option, not when duty beckoned.
Lady Elizabeth's expression softened, though only slightly. "I expect nothing less," she said, her gaze sweeping over you both. "We must present a united front, after all. Appearances matter, even when the heart is not engaged."
The words hung in the air, heavy with implications. You glanced at your mother, who was nodding as though everything Lady Elizabeth said was perfectly reasonable. Yet you couldn’t help but wonder if there was a warning hidden in her tone—a reminder of what this marriage was truly about.
"Well, then," your mother said, setting her empty teacup aside, "we should go upstairs and prepare. There is much to be done before this evening."
Lady Elizabeth waved a dismissive hand. "Yes, yes. I have given instructions to the maids. They will see that everything is in order."
With that, you rose from your seat, grateful for the excuse to leave the stifling parlor. As you and your mother made your way up the grand staircase, you cast one last glance at Lady Elizabeth, who was staring into the distance, her expression as cold and remote as the marble statues that lined the hall.
At that moment, you thought of Lord Howlett again and wondered what it would be like to grow up under the shadow of such an unforgiving woman—one who seemed to see nothing but what could have been, rather than what was. It didn’t excuse his sternness, his brooding demeanor, but it offered some small insight into why he might be the way he was.
────୨ৎ────
The ball was a spectacle of shimmering lights and lavish décor, each detail carefully orchestrated to impress. The chandeliers above cast a warm, golden glow over the guests, who moved in graceful circles across the marble floor like figures in a painting.
Your gown—an opulent creation of deep sapphire silk embroidered with silver thread—caught the light with every turn, the fabric glinting like starlight and drawing the eyes of those around you. You felt their stares lingering, appraising, but it was as if they were looking at a finely dressed doll rather than a flesh-and-blood woman.
Your mother had drifted off, eager to mingle and sing the praises of this grand match. It left you standing alone in a sea of unfamiliar faces, the polite chatter around you blurring into a single, indistinct hum. Though the event had ostensibly been arranged in your honor, it felt more like you were a prize on display, set out for the approval of society rather than for any true celebration.
Determined not to appear lost, you moved to the edge of the ballroom, your gloved fingers trailing over the polished surface of a side table laden with flowers. You caught snatches of conversation as you passed by small clusters of guests, their voices rising and falling like the strings of an orchestra.
"Well, I must say, it's quite the surprise that Lady Elizabeth managed to secure such a match for her son," a woman's voice murmured, low and conspiratorial. You glanced to your left and saw a pair of elegantly dressed women in their middle years, their fans fluttering as they spoke. "I had begun to think poor James would never find a bride. His temperament is not exactly… charming."
Another voice chimed in, this one with an edge of mischief. "And his mother hardly helps matters, does she? Lady Elizabeth has been a terror for years, ever since her husband died. I can't imagine growing up under such a cold hand."
"Well," the first woman continued with a sigh, "he was always the dutiful son. But duty is hardly enough to make one pleasant company, is it?"
Their words settled over you like a damp mist, uncomfortable and cloying. You were still learning who Lord Howlett—or James, as they called him—truly was, but you had already sensed that the relationship between him and his mother was strained. Hearing it discussed so openly, with such dismissiveness, only added to the unease you had felt since the start of the evening. It was as though you were intruding on a story that was not yours, but in which you had unwillingly become a central character.
Feeling a knot tighten in your chest, you turned abruptly and made your way toward the terrace doors. You needed air—something to clear the suffocating sense of being scrutinized, and judged, even before the real marriage had begun.
Pushing through the doors, you stepped out into the cool night, grateful for the brisk wind that carried the scent of autumn leaves and distant rain.
The garden stretched out before you, illuminated by lanterns that flickered in the dark like tiny fireflies. You had barely taken a few steps when you saw a figure leaning against the stone balustrade at the far end of the terrace. His silhouette was unmistakable, broad-shouldered, and tense, with the light of the nearest lantern casting half his face in shadow.
"Lord Howlett," you said, your voice carrying a trace of surprise despite yourself. "I didn’t expect to find you out here, avoiding your ball."
He turned at the sound of your voice, his dark gaze finding yours in the dim light. "And I didn’t expect to find you fleeing the festivities," he replied, his tone dry but not unkind. "Is the grand occasion not to your liking, Miss Langley?"
You moved closer, folding your arms against the chill, though it was not entirely the cold that made you shiver. "It is grand, yes," you said, the words feeling hollow even as you spoke them. "But it is also… overwhelming. It seems everyone here has something to say about you and your family."
His expression tightened, a shadow passing over his features. "Let me guess," he said, his voice dropping to a rough murmur. "They’ve been speaking of my mother and me, as though we are some tragic figures to be pitied or criticized." He gave a short, humorless laugh. "People always do."
You hesitated, uncertain whether to reveal what you had overheard. Something in the darkness of his gaze, in the way his shoulders seemed to carry a weight that had nothing to do with the fine tailoring of his coat, made you speak. "They said… that your mother is difficult, and that you…" You trailed off, suddenly unsure. "That you have always been dutiful, but that it does not make you pleasant company."
His jaw tightened, and for a moment you thought he might turn away from you and retreat into the silence of the garden. But then he sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. "My mother is a difficult woman," he admitted, his tone devoid of any attempt at pretense. "She was not always so, but after my father died… she became colder. As though his death froze something in her. She has never quite forgiven me for not being the son she imagined I should be."
The raw honesty in his voice startled you. It was the first time you had heard him speak so openly, and the words cut through your resentment like a knife through silk, leaving you with an unexpected ache. "I'm sorry," you said softly, though you knew the words were inadequate. "It must be… difficult, to carry that."
His gaze shifted back to you, his expression softening just a fraction. "It is," he said quietly, "but I do not seek pity, Miss Langley. I am only telling you this because—" He hesitated as if weighing the significance of what he was about to say. "Because I would have you understand that I do not wish to marry out of obligation any more than you do. But life is rarely kind enough to allow us our preferences."
You took a slow breath, feeling the tension in the air between you, taut and humming. "Then what do you wish for, my lord?" you asked, the question coming out softer than you intended. "If not obligation, then what?"
He was silent for a long moment, his gaze steady on you as though searching for something in your eyes. "If we must go through with this," he said at last, "then perhaps we might find some way to make it bearable. To be… companions, at the very least." He gave a small, rueful smile, one that barely reached his eyes. "And you needn’t call me 'Lord Howlett' anymore. It sounds as though we are forever strangers. You may call me Logan if you wish."
The use of his given name felt strange on your tongue, but not unpleasantly so. "Logan," you repeated, testing the feel of it. The intimacy of the gesture surprised you, and for the first time, you wondered if perhaps there was more to this man than the stern exterior he showed the world. "Very well. But only if you call me by my name as well. I would prefer not to feel like a stranger in my marriage."
"Agreed," he said, the faintest trace of warmth returning to his voice. "Then we shall start there, at least."
You nodded, a small, reluctant smile curling your lips. The path ahead was still fraught with uncertainty, but for the first time, the weight on your chest seemed to lift just a little, as though you had found a foothold on a steep climb. The night air no longer felt quite so cold, and the lights of the ballroom behind you seemed a world away, as though the two of you were the only people in existence.
"Perhaps…" you began hesitantly, your voice almost lost in the cool night air. "Perhaps you like to dance?" The suggestion came out more tentative than you intended, as though you were testing the ground beneath you for cracks. "I—I don't know if you are a dancer, but—"
"I am not," Logan interrupted, his tone blunt as ever. His gaze flicked to the ballroom beyond the terrace, where the strains of a lively waltz floated out through the open doors.
You nodded quickly, heat rising to your cheeks as awkwardness settled over you like a heavy cloak. "I see. Well, then," you said, already beginning to turn away, "I should probably—"
"Wait," he said, his voice softer now, almost as if he regretted his abruptness. "I may not be a dancer by nature, but…" He extended his hand, gloved and steady, toward you. "I suppose I could make an exception. For tonight."
You hesitated, glancing between his outstretched hand and his eyes, which held a flicker of something unexpected—perhaps even a hint of apology. It seemed as though he was offering more than just a dance; he was offering a moment of truce, a chance to find common ground, if only for the span of a waltz.
Slowly, you placed your hand in his, the warmth of his touch seeping through the thin fabric of your glove.
He led you back through the terrace doors and onto the polished floor of the ballroom. The light was softer here, the shadows of the grand chandeliers dancing across the marble in tandem with the swirling couples.
Logan's hand found its place at your waist, and you felt the light pressure of his fingers against your back as he drew you closer. His other hand held yours gently, as though he were wary of holding on too tightly.
"You may find I am somewhat clumsy," he said, his voice low and edged with a reluctant humor. "I am better suited to riding or fencing than to this… delicate footwork."
"Then I shall tread lightly," you replied, a small, teasing smile touching your lips as you met his gaze. "It wouldn't do to embarrass you in front of your guests."
A wry glint sparked in his eyes. "I'd wager you would enjoy that far more than you should," he murmured, his tone laced with dry amusement.
The music swelled around you, and as you began to move, you could feel the tension in Logan's posture. His steps were careful at first, almost hesitant, as though he were measuring each movement to ensure he did not misstep. Yet, as the dance went on, a certain ease began to creep in. There was a surprising steadiness in the way he guided you, his hold neither too firm nor too tentative, as though he were learning how to match your pace.
"You're not a terrible dancer, you know," you said after a moment, allowing yourself to relax into the rhythm. "I think you may have misled me."
He gave a soft chuckle, the sound rumbling low in his chest. "If you say so. Though I still feel like an imposter among these graceful sorts." His gaze swept briefly over the other dancers, his expression thoughtful. "I imagine this isn’t exactly the kind of evening you dreamt of when you thought of marriage."
You glanced up at him, surprised by the note of genuine curiosity in his voice. "No," you admitted, your tone candid. "But I’m not certain I ever dreamt of marriage at all. Not in the way young girls often do. I always thought… well, that I might have a choice in the matter. That I would marry someone of my choosing." The words slipped out before you could weigh them, and you immediately wondered if you had said too much.
Logan’s grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly. "And yet here you are," he said quietly, his gaze locking onto yours, "dancing with a man you did not choose."
"Here I am," you echoed, unable to disguise the faint edge of resignation in your voice. "But you should know, Logan—I have not resigned myself to being simply dutiful." There was a challenge in your eyes as you met his, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur, leaving just the two of you moving in time with the music. "I do not intend to be a wife in name only, nor a woman without her mind."
The corner of his mouth lifted, though the expression was not quite a smile. "Good," he said, the word a murmur. "I would not want a wife who could be so easily subdued." There was a pause, and then he added, as if it cost him something to say it, "You have a strength about you, a fire. It… suits you."
His words, spoken so plainly, sent a shiver down your spine from the strange thrill of being seen, even if only for a moment. "Logan?" you asked, your voice almost a whisper. "What do you want from this… arrangement?"
The dance slowed, and he guided you to a stop at the edge of the ballroom, where the light was softer and the music faded into the background. His gaze never wavered from yours, and for an instant, you could see the layers of guardedness in his eyes, the uncertainty mingled with something deeper.
"I suppose I want what anyone wants," he said at last, the honesty in his tone startlingly raw. "A life that is… bearable, at the very least. Perhaps, in time, something more than just duty." His hand lingered on your waist, as though he was reluctant to let you go. "But I will not force affection where it does not exist. I would rather we find some common ground, even if that is all we ever share."
The tension between you hung in the air like a breath unspent, and you found yourself nodding, your throat tight. "I suppose that is a start," you said, a hint of a smile pulling at your lips. "But I will warn you, Logan—I have little talent for settling for 'bearable.' If I am to find contentment, it will be on my terms."
"Then let it be on your terms," he replied, his voice soft but resolute. "As long as you allow me to learn them."
The music swelled once more, the moment passed, but something unspoken lingered between you, fragile and tentative. As you moved away from the dance floor, you could not help but feel that you had glimpsed the man behind the title—neither a brooding lord nor a reluctant suitor, but someone trying, just as you were, to make sense of the path that lay ahead.
────୨ৎ────
The days before the wedding passed in a blur of preparations, each one more elaborate than the last. Your mother seemed determined to outdo herself in every detail, from the arrangements of the flowers to the grandness of the banquet, as though an opulent ceremony could distract from the quiet desperation behind it.
The Langleys were teetering on the brink of ruin, yet she had no qualms about spending lavishly, especially since it was Lord Howlett’s money footing the bill. It only pressed your nerves further, making you feel as though you were hurtling toward an unknown fate with no time to catch your breath.
Your sisters were surprisingly calm about it all, their usual youthful chatter subdued by a vague, uneasy acceptance. One of them, the youngest, had even confessed her concern as you helped her brush out her hair the night before. “Do you have to marry him?” she whispered, her wide eyes full of worry. “People say he’s… odd. They say his temper is frightful, and he spends too much time away from society.”
You forced a reassuring smile, though you could not quite summon the words to soothe her fears—when your own still lingered in the corners of your mind.
Yet, if there was any solace to be found in those frantic days, it was in the quiet hours you spent by your father's side. His health had declined steadily over the past year, leaving him confined to his bed more often than not, and you took every opportunity to care for him, fetching his tea, sitting with him in the evenings, and reading aloud from his favorite books. He was the one constant in your world, and though you tried to keep the worry from your voice, he seemed to sense the storm that raged beneath your calm facade.
One evening, you sat beside him in the dim glow of the bedside candlelight, the murmur of the household carrying faintly through the closed door. Your father’s eyes, though weary, still held a spark of the warmth that had always comforted you. He reached for your hand, his grip gentle but steady. "You seem troubled, my dear," he said softly. "I imagine it is not just the bustle of the preparations weighing on you."
You hesitated, but then sighed, letting some of your defenses fall. "I suppose I am… uncertain," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "There is so much talk—about Lord Howlett’s character, about his reputation. I hardly know him at all, and yet I am to marry him."
Your father’s expression softened, a faint smile touching his lips. "You’re right to have your doubts, but there is more to James than society sees," he said, his voice low and earnest. "He is a good man, despite what people may say. I have known him for some time."
You looked at him with surprise. "You have?"
He nodded, a faraway look in his eyes as if recalling something from long ago. "I once had the chance to see the measure of his character firsthand," he began. "It was a few years back before his father passed. There was an incident in the village—a fire broke out in one of the cottages. I had gone down to see if I could offer any assistance, and there was James, knee-deep in the smoke and chaos, helping to pull a family from the burning house. He didn’t wait for anyone else to act—he just did what had to be done." He paused, his gaze meeting yours with quiet intensity. "Afterwards, when the villagers tried to thank him, he brushed it off as though it were nothing."
You listened, the image of Logan emerging from the smoke—a man of action rather than words—forming in your mind. It didn’t fit the stories whispered about him at all, the rumors of a cold, temperamental lord who preferred his solitude to society.
"He doesn’t wear his virtues for others to see," your father continued, his tone tender. "But they are there, and I would not have agreed to this marriage if I didn’t believe he was worthy of you." His voice dipped, softening. "In fact, it was I who insisted upon it."
The admission struck you like a sudden breeze, and you blinked in surprise. "You insisted?"
A faint chuckle escaped him, though it was tinged with sadness. "Your mother had other plans," he confessed. "She wanted you to marry Viscount Ashcombe. But I knew that man for what he was—a charming rake with a smile that hid his vices. He would have squandered what little we had left and treated you as nothing more than a pretty ornament for his arm. I could not allow that."
A shudder of relief ran through you. Viscount Ashcombe had indeed been a frequent guest at Langley House, his charming demeanor masking a calculating gaze you had never quite trusted. That your father had shielded you from such a fate filled you with a new, deep gratitude, but also a touch of guilt. "And… Lord Howlett?" you asked, your voice hesitant. "You truly believe he is a better choice?"
"I do," your father said simply, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. "James may not be the gentleman of society’s dreams, but he is honorable, and he would not see you come to harm. I have seen how he looks at you, even if you have not noticed it yourself. There is a kindness there, though it is buried deep. I only ask that you give him a chance to prove himself to you."
You felt the sting of tears behind your eyes, not out of sadness, but from the overwhelming tenderness in your father’s words. He had always been a voice of reason and quiet strength, and if he believed Logan was a good man, perhaps there was something more to this arrangement than mere obligation. "I shall try, Papa," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "If you think it right, I shall try."
A soft smile curved his lips, and he reached up to tuck a stray curl behind your ear. "That is all I could ever ask of you, my dear," he said gently. "And remember, marriage is not defined by society's expectations or even by the beginnings it is built upon. It is shaped by the choices you make together, by how you face the world as one."
You stayed with him a while longer, resting your head on the pillow beside his as he spoke of simpler things—memories of your childhood, stories of when he and your mother first met. Yet, as his voice grew softer and the evening deepened, your thoughts drifted to Logan, and you wondered if this marriage could truly be more than just duty.
────୨ৎ────
"Stop squirming, dear. You'll ruin the lace," your mother chided, her tone sharp with impatience. The maid's fingers fumbled with the last of the tiny pearl buttons running down the back of your gown. You tried to stand still, though your nerves thrummed beneath your skin like the tension of a tightly wound string.
"But it's itchy," you complained, wincing as the delicate lace sleeves brushed against your arms again, the fine fabric more irritating than luxurious at that moment. The dress, an ivory satin creation with lace overlay, clung to your frame like a beautiful prison, its layers heavy and constricting. You stared at your reflection in the looking glass—the bride-to-be staring back at you was almost unrecognizable, her cheeks pale and eyes wide with the uncertainty she couldn’t quite mask.
"Beauty is not meant to be comfortable," your mother said briskly, stepping forward to adjust your veil with quick, efficient movements. "Today of all days, you must endure a little discomfort." She pressed a kiss to your forehead, though there was no true tenderness in the gesture—only the determination of a woman who would see her daughter wed, no matter what doubts might linger in the air.
You glanced toward the window where the light spilled in, illuminating the fine dust motes that danced in the air. Beyond the glass, the sprawling grounds of Howlett Manor stretched out, perfectly manicured and bedecked with white roses for the occasion. Guests were beginning to arrive, their carriages forming a neat line along the drive, and you felt a fresh wave of apprehension as the realization settled in by the end of this day, you would be Lady Howlett. No longer just yourself, but part of something larger and more daunting than you had ever imagined.
"Come, dear. It is time," your mother said, her voice taking on a softened tone that still carried an edge of insistence. She took your hand and led you down the grand staircase, the train of your gown trailing like a whisper behind you. As you reached the bottom step, a footman opened the doors, and the warm summer air rushed in, carrying with it the faint strains of music and the murmurs of assembled guests.
The ceremony itself was to take place in the garden, beneath a canopy of white silk, with roses entwined in the trellis above. You took your place at the entrance of the aisle, your breath catching in your throat as the music swelled.
Ahead of you, the guests rose to their feet, their eyes upon you like a sea of expectations. You felt as though you were walking into a story already written, where every step was a line you could not change.
Then you saw him.
Logan stood at the end of the aisle, his back straight and his face composed, but there was a different look about him today—something more open in his expression as if the stern lines of his features had softened slightly in the golden light. He was dressed in a dark coat and waistcoat, his cravat a crisp white, and for the first time, you thought he looked less like the brooding lord and more like any other man, perhaps even a little… nervous. The thought was oddly comforting, to see that he too might be feeling the weight of this moment.
What truly caught your attention was the sight of him speaking with a young woman—his cousin, Marie, whom you had met briefly the night before. She stood close to him, her dark curls bouncing as she laughed softly at something he said. Logan’s face, usually so guarded, was uncharacteristically warm. He reached out to gently touch her arm, a small smile playing on his lips. There was an ease in his manner that you had not seen before. It was a different side of him—a side that seemed capable of tenderness.
As if sensing your gaze, Logan looked up and met your eyes. The warmth did not fade from his expression; if anything, it deepened, and he gave you a small, reassuring nod. It was a subtle gesture, but there was something in it that steadied your breath—a silent acknowledgment that whatever lay ahead, you did not have to face it alone.
The music began again, and you took a step forward, then another, your heartbeat loud in your ears as you moved down the aisle. Your gaze remained fixed on Logan, his presence grounding you as you drew nearer. When you finally reached him, he extended his hand, and you placed yours in it, the warmth of his touch radiating through your glove.
His fingers squeezed yours gently, a subtle comfort. “Breathe,” he whispered, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “You’re doing fine.”
You exhaled, a shaky breath escaping you, and for a moment, the knot in your chest loosened. “You seem remarkably calm,” you replied quietly, glancing up at him. “Are you not nervous at all?”
His lips curved into a faint smile, one that was almost playful. “Terrified, if you must know,” he admitted, his eyes holding yours. “But I’ve been told I hide it well.”
A surprised laugh slipped out before you could stop it, the sound quiet and breathless. You hadn’t expected him to share such a candid confession, and somehow, it made everything feel a little less daunting.
The priest began to speak, the familiar words of the ceremony flowing around you, and though your mind still buzzed with nerves, you found yourself clinging to that moment of shared honesty, to the knowledge that beneath Logan’s composed exterior, a man was grappling with uncertainty, just as you were.
As the vows were exchanged, Logan’s voice was steady, but there was a sincerity in his tone that made you look up at him again, your pulse quickening. He held your gaze as he spoke, and at that moment, it felt as though the rest of the world had faded away—leaving only the two of you standing there, joined in a promise neither of you had fully chosen but both were willing to see through.
When it came time to place the ring on your finger, his hand lingered over yours, his touch careful, almost reverent. “You’re not alone in this,” he said softly, just for you to hear, his breath warm against your ear. “And you never will be.”
The words settled in your chest, bringing with them a quiet sense of resolve. As the priest declared you husband and wife, you felt a strange mix of relief and anticipation, as though you were standing at the edge of something new and uncertain, but not entirely unwelcome.
You glanced at Logan once more, catching a glimpse of that same warmth in his eyes, and for the first time, you wondered if perhaps there might be room, however small, for something real to grow.
When he leaned in to kiss you, you hesitated for a moment. He was gentle, almost tentative as though he were offering you not just a gesture of the ceremony but a promise of something more. The guests cheered and the music swelled pulling you back.
────୨ৎ────
The reception was in full swing by the time you made your way downstairs. The lively hum of conversation and clinking of glasses echoed through the grand hall, but the merriment seemed to blur at the edges of your awareness. Your mind was still reeling from the conversation you’d had with your mother moments before—her not-so-subtle suggestions about "wifely duties" and the inevitability of sharing a bed with your husband tonight.
The thought made your stomach twist, and your cheeks were still warm with embarrassment. You had hoped to delay that particular aspect of marriage, at least for a while, but there was no denying the weight of expectation pressing down on you.
As you rounded a corner into one of the quieter wings of the manor, you slowed your steps, grateful for a moment of reprieve from the noise and the prying eyes.
It was then that you caught sight of Lady Elizabeth, standing near the far end of the corridor with another woman you vaguely recognized—a guest, perhaps, or a distant relation whose name escaped you. They were somewhat obscured by the shadows, their heads bowed close together as they spoke in low, urgent voices.
You stopped short, instinctively stepping back to avoid being seen, but their conversation drifted toward you in hushed but distinct whispers.
"…it was the only way to ensure his claim to the manor," Lady Elizabeth said, her voice cold and matter-of-fact. "You understand, don’t you? A bastard child cannot inherit Howlett Manor unless certain… conditions are met."
The other woman gasped softly, her fan fluttering nervously at her throat. "Are you saying James is—"
"A bastard," Lady Elizabeth cut in, the word sharp and unyielding. "Yes. He is the son of a groundskeeper we had. I had an affair—brief, foolish—and yet, here we are. The late Lord Howlett agreed to raise him as his own, but only if Logan did what was necessary to preserve the family name and secure the estate. That meant marrying, producing an heir… appearing respectable." Her tone held a trace of bitterness, as though the situation was a distasteful chore she had no choice but to accept.
The truth struck you like a blow to the chest, knocking the breath from your lungs. You gripped the edge of the doorway, your fingers digging into the wood as the world seemed to tilt around you. Logan is not truly the heir to Howlett Manor? He is… illegitimate?
The whispers continued, their voices fading in and out. "…must keep it quiet, of course," Lady Elizabeth was saying. "If anyone found out the truth, it would cause a scandal. All the wealth, the manor—gone. That is why this marriage was so important. He needs a legitimate heir, and quickly."
You could hardly process what you were hearing. The weight of the revelation pressed down on you, filling your chest with a mixture of shock and betrayal. You had known there were expectations upon this marriage, pressures you had not fully understood, but this… this was an entirely different kind of entanglement. It wasn’t just a matter of appearances or duty—it was a lie. A lie that Logan had kept from you, that his mother had kept from society, a lie that now entangled you as well.
Forcing yourself to remain calm, you stepped back quietly, retreating before they could notice you. Your heart pounded in your ears as you made your way to one of the smaller parlors, where you sank into a chair, your mind spinning.
The scandal this could cause—if the truth were to come out, it would ruin not just Logan, but your family as well. The very thing you had married to avoid—the loss of Langley House, the disgrace—would become inevitable. I cannot tell anyone, you thought, a tremor running through you. No one can know.
Later, you found yourself drifting through the reception, the laughter and music around you feeling like a distant, disjointed melody. You did your best to play your part—the smiling bride, the gracious hostess—but every time you caught sight of Logan across the room, a fresh wave of unease washed over you.
You wondered how long he had known, how long he had kept this secret hidden from you. Had he intended to tell you eventually, or had he planned to let you live in ignorance, a pawn in his efforts to secure a future for himself?
As if summoned by your thoughts, Logan approached you near the edge of the ballroom, where you had retreated once more to catch your breath. His expression was softer than usual, and there was an unexpected warmth in his eyes as he came to stand beside you. "You look… radiant," he said quietly, his voice low and gentle. He reached out to brush a stray curl from your cheek, his fingers lingering near your temple. "I was looking for you earlier. I was hoping to steal a dance."
You stiffened at his touch, the tenderness in his tone feeling almost like a mockery in light of what you now knew. You forced a smile, though it felt brittle, and nodded. "A dance? Yes, of course. It is… our wedding day, after all."
His brow furrowed slightly, as though sensing that something was amiss. "Is everything all right?" he asked, his voice dipping with concern. "You seem… distant."
How could I possibly tell you? The question burned at the back of your throat, but you swallowed it down. "I'm just… overwhelmed," you replied, letting out a small, shaky breath. "It’s all been so… sudden." It wasn’t entirely a lie, and you hoped he would accept it.
His hand found yours, and he gave your fingers a reassuring squeeze. "I understand," he said softly. "It’s a great deal to take in. But you’re not alone in this." There was a genuine kindness in his eyes, a sincerity that should have comforted you, but instead only deepened your sense of betrayal. You knew that while he spoke these words of reassurance, there was a secret between you—one that threatened to unravel everything if it ever came to light.
You allowed him to lead you onto the dance floor, you couldn’t help but feel like you were playing a role, just as much as he was. The music swelled, and you fell into step with him, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder, his arm firm around your waist. He looked down at you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken, but instead of feeling warmth, you felt a chill.
"I’m glad you’re here," Logan murmured as you danced, his voice low enough for only you to hear. "I know we didn’t choose this, but… I’d like to think we could find some measure of happiness, even if it’s not the kind we once imagined."
You met his gaze, your heart twisting painfully at the sincerity in his expression. He looked at you as though you were the only person in the world, and yet… you could not forget the conversation you had overheard, the truth that hung like a shadow between you. "Yes," you replied, forcing the words out even as they tasted bitter. "I suppose we could try."
He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "We’ll figure it out," he whispered. "Together."
The word together stung, and as you looked up at him, you wondered if he was truly offering you a partnership—or simply playing a part in a carefully crafted lie.
────୨ৎ────
The wedding celebration had stretched late into the night, and when it was finally over, you felt an overwhelming sense of relief. The laughter, music, and endless well-wishers had been exhausting, and you had longed to retreat somewhere quiet and familiar.
But Langley House was no longer your sanctuary; Howlett Manor was now your home, and the realization settled heavily on your shoulders as the last guests departed, and the manor returned to its usual stillness.
The early morning air was cool and damp, the dew clinging to your skin as you stood on the grand steps of Howlett Manor, watching your family prepare to leave. The sight of their carriage waiting at the end of the gravel drive stirred a longing in your chest, a longing to climb inside and return with them to the warmth and comfort of your childhood home, to the place where you still knew who you were.
Your father embraced you gently, his kiss a soft brush against your cheek. "You’ll be fine, my dear," he murmured, his voice both reassuring and tinged with sadness. "Remember, if ever you need anything, we are only a letter away."
You nodded, managing a small, tight smile. "I know, Papa." But as you pulled back, a knot formed in your throat, and you had to bite your lip to keep it from trembling.
Your sisters crowded around you, their eyes bright with mischief and concern. "Now you're a proper lady, a married woman!" one teased, nudging your arm. "We expect to see you behaving with all the decorum of a countess." Another giggled, adding, "Try not to be too miserable without us."
You forced a laugh, waving them off as they climbed into the carriage, and you watched it roll away, the wheels crunching over the gravel until the sound faded into the distance. As the carriage disappeared from view, the sense of loneliness settled in, a cold, creeping sensation that sank into your bones.
Howlett Manor was vast, with its sprawling halls and echoing chambers, but it felt impossibly empty, like a hollow shell. The servants bustled about with quiet efficiency, their footsteps barely audible on the polished floors, but their presence did little to fill the silence. There was no life here, none of the warm chaos you were used to—just endless rooms and corridors that all seemed to lead nowhere.
You wandered, your slippers brushing over the ornate rugs, your fingers trailing along the smooth banisters. At Langley House, there had always been some comfort in the small, familiar things: the chipped vase on the mantelpiece, the faded armchair your father favored, the distant sound of your sisters' laughter drifting through the halls.
But here, everything was pristine and grand, untouched by time or sentiment. It was as though the very walls resisted your presence, like an indifferent host merely tolerating a guest.
Eventually, you found yourself in a small library tucked away on the eastern side of the manor. It was far more modest than the grand, formal library you had glimpsed earlier—this room seemed a bit forgotten, its shelves crammed to the brim with books of every kind. The air smelled faintly of dust and leather, and a few stray beams of sunlight spilled through the narrow window, illuminating particles that danced lazily in the air.
You sank into a worn armchair by the window, its upholstery faded from years of sunlight. It wasn’t a particularly inviting chair, but it was the first place you had found that didn’t seem to insist upon its grandeur, that didn’t make you feel quite so out of place.
Your fingers traced the spines of the books nearby—collections of poetry, histories, and old novels whose covers were cracked with age. You pulled a volume at random from the shelf and settled back, trying to lose yourself in the words, but the text seemed to blur before your eyes, and you couldn’t shake the emptiness that gnawed at the edges of your thoughts.
The loneliness here was different from what you had expected. It wasn’t the sharp sting of missing your family, nor was it the cold silence of being truly alone.
Rather, it was a kind of isolation that seeped into you even when surrounded by people—people who knew their place here, who moved about the manor with the easy familiarity you lacked. Even Logan, who you’d scarcely seen since the wedding day, seemed a stranger to this place at times. You had caught glimpses of him in passing, his brow furrowed in thought or his expression distant, and you wondered if he too felt as though he did not entirely belong.
You had just begun to drift off into an uneasy doze when the sound of voices outside the library door roused you. You started, closing the book and setting it aside as the door opened and Logan stepped in, speaking quietly with his cousin, Marie. There was a lightness to his tone, a warmth you had rarely heard in his voice. He laughed at something she said, the sound deep and genuine, and there was a soft smile on his lips as he reached out to ruffle her hair in an affectionate, brotherly gesture.
You felt a pang of something you could not quite name—jealousy, perhaps, or simply longing. It was strange to see him this way, unguarded and almost joyful.
As if sensing your gaze, Logan looked up and saw you seated there, half-hidden behind the armchair. His smile faded slightly, but a flicker of that warmth remained as he inclined his head toward you. "I didn’t realize anyone else was in here," he said, his voice carrying a faint note of surprise. "I hope we didn’t disturb you."
"Not at all," you replied, rising to your feet, though the sudden movement made you feel unsteady. "I was just… trying to pass the time."
Marie gave you a friendly nod before excusing herself, leaving the two of you alone in the quiet library. Logan's gaze followed her for a moment, then returned to you, and you felt the weight of his attention, his curiosity.
"Have you found everything to your liking?" he asked, his tone polite, though there was a hint of something else in it as if he was searching for reassurance himself. "I know it must be quite an adjustment…"
"Yes," you answered, forcing a smile that felt strained. "It is… different, certainly." The understatement felt almost laughable, but you could not bring yourself to confess the depth of your unease. Not to him. Not yet.
Logan’s expression softened, and he took a step closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "If there’s anything you need—anything at all—please let me know," he said. "I would not have you feel like a stranger here."
The kindness in his voice unsettled you, for you could not help but wonder if it was merely an act, part of the role he was expected to play as a new husband. After all, how could he speak of not wanting you to feel like a stranger when he had kept the most significant part of his life hidden from you? When the very foundation of this marriage was built on secrets and necessity?
"Thank you, my lord, but I fear I will always be a stranger here," you blurted before you could stop yourself. The moment they left your lips, a flicker of regret curled in your chest, but it was too late to take them back.
Logan's brows furrowed, a shadow of concern crossing his features. "I had hoped to make you comfortable," he said, his voice measured, as though he was choosing each word with care. "If there is something amiss… Is your chamber not to your liking, or—"
"It is not the chamber," you interrupted, shaking your head. "Everything here is grand. Perhaps that is the problem." You gestured vaguely around the room, where the dark wood paneling gleamed in the afternoon light, where the velvet drapes hung heavy and untouched. "Nothing feels… homey. It is as though I am trapped within these walls, surrounded by all this grandeur, but with nothing of substance to occupy me. There is an emptiness here and I…" Your voice trailed off, uncertain how to convey the rest without sounding ungrateful or childish.
He took a step back, the distance between you widening, though his gaze remained fixed on you, unwavering. "How can you be so unhappy when it has only been hours since our wedding?" There was a hint of frustration in his tone, barely concealed. "I know this is all new, but I thought—" He broke off, his jaw tightening. "I thought you were willing to give this a chance."
A dry laugh escaped you, tinged with a bitterness you hadn’t meant to reveal. "Willing, yes," you replied, a tremor in your voice. "But happiness? That is another matter entirely. I was not happy to begin with, and though I did promise I would try to make this marriage work, I don’t know if I can." You paused, your throat tightening around the words. "I am alone here, without my family, without my father. He has no one by his side."
Logan’s expression softened slightly, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. "I know it is difficult," he said quietly. "But I would not have you feel this way. If there is anything I can—"
"I do not need reassurances, my lord," you snapped, the sharpness of your tone surprising you. You took a step toward him, the frustration and fear that had been simmering since the wedding rising to the surface. "I need honesty. I need to know that I am not merely here to serve as the solution to a problem that was never mine to begin with."
He blinked, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. "What are you talking about?"
You opened your mouth to respond, the words balanced precariously on the tip of your tongue. I know the truth. I know what your mother said—that you are not truly the heir, that you are a— You swallowed, the weight of the secret pressing against your chest like a stone. But as you met his gaze, you saw a rawness there, a genuine concern that made you falter. The words died in your throat, and you looked away, unable to bring yourself to shatter whatever fragile understanding existed between you.
"Nothing," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "It is nothing."
"Is it?" he pressed, his tone gentling. He took a tentative step closer, his hand lifting as though to touch your arm, then falling back to his side. "I know this marriage did not begin as a love match, but that does not mean we cannot build something worthwhile from it. I am trying to give you a place here, but you must meet me halfway."
A bitter retort hovered on your lips, but you swallowed it back. "Halfway?" you echoed, a faint tremor in your voice. "And what would that look like? Me sitting in silence while you attend to your duties, while your mother watches over me like a hawk to ensure I fulfill my role as your wife and nothing more?"
Logan's jaw tightened, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes—anger, perhaps, or hurt, or some mixture of the two. "My mother does not dictate our marriage," he said, his tone firm. "Nor does she have a say in how I treat you."
"But does she have a say in why you married me?" The question slipped out before you could think better of it, and as soon as the words hung in the air between you, you wished you could take them back. You saw the way his expression changed, the guarded look that closed off whatever warmth had been there moments before.
"What are you trying to say?" His voice was low, his gaze piercing as though searching your face for answers you were unwilling to give.
You took a step back, wrapping your arms around yourself as though to ward off the sudden chill that seemed to fill the room. "Forget I said anything," you murmured, turning away from him. "I am simply tired. It has been a long day."
You walked away, the tension hung between you, a taut string threatening to snap at any moment. You could feel Logan's eyes on your back, his unspoken questions pressing against you like a weight. You had come so close to revealing what you knew, and now the secret lay thick and unspoken between you. Its presence impossible to ignore.
However, the damage was done. The words you hadn’t said had already begun to build a wall between you, one that grew higher with every passing silence.
────୨ৎ────
It was days later, in the quiet hours of the late afternoon, when Logan found you curled up in the worn armchair with a book in hand, nestled in the small, tucked-away library. It was far removed from the grand and imposing main library, which you had visited only once and found too vast, too cold for your liking.
This library felt different. It had a lived-in quality, as though it were a place where someone came to retreat from the weight of duty, a place where time seemed to slow. You had claimed it as a sanctuary of sorts, a space where you could be alone with your thoughts and the company of the old novels that lined the shelves.
You didn’t notice Logan’s presence at first, not until the faint creak of the door announced him, and you looked up, startled. Rising to your feet, you brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, your loose curls tumbling over your shoulders.
"My lord, I did not notice you there," you said, your voice betraying a hint of the nerves that still stirred whenever you found yourself alone in his company.
Logan’s lips quirked in a faint smile, his gaze sweeping over the room before resting on you. "You don’t need to stand on ceremony here," he said, his tone softer than you had expected. "And you certainly don’t need to call me ‘my lord’—not in this place." He glanced around at the cluttered bookshelves as if reacquainting himself with the space. "I always thought of this library as a refuge, of sorts. It seems you have found it, too."
You relaxed slightly, though you still felt a touch self-conscious. "I did not realize this was… your library. It felt less formal than the others—more… welcoming," you admitted, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "I hope I did not intrude."
"Not at all," he replied, stepping closer, his hands clasped casually behind his back. "In truth, I’m glad to see someone making use of it. I’ve always preferred this room over the larger one. There’s a kind of comfort here, wouldn’t you agree?"
You nodded, glancing back at the book you had set down—a collection of poetry. "I suppose I’ve always preferred smaller spaces. They feel less like… museums, more like places meant to be lived in."
Logan’s gaze drifted to the book resting on the armchair. "Byron," he noted, recognizing the gold lettering on the spine. "A man who made his life as dramatic as his verses. Are you fond of his work?"
"I am," you said, your eyes brightening at the familiar subject. "There is something about the way he captures longing and melancholy… It feels so human, so true."
Logan’s expression softened, a glimmer of shared understanding in his eyes. "Yes, there is a kind of honesty in his verses, even when they’re full of exaggeration. It’s as though he’s trying to make sense of his own heart."
He reached out, pulling a slim volume from the shelf beside him. "But I’ve always been more inclined toward Wordsworth," he confessed, turning the book over in his hands. "His love of nature, the way he finds solace in it… There’s a quietness to his poetry that I find calming."
You tilted your head, a touch of curiosity lighting your gaze. "That’s surprising. I didn’t take you for the type to seek out… calm."
Logan let out a chuckle, his thumb brushing over the book’s worn cover. "I suppose that’s why I do seek it. A man doesn’t have to look very far to find chaos, but peace… that’s something worth searching for." He glanced at you, and the lightness in his expression gave way to something more thoughtful. "You know, my father always called me James. I suppose it was the name he preferred—more dignified, I think, in his mind. But my mother… She always called me Logan, from the time I was a boy."
He hesitated, a shadow crossing his features. "I suppose I never stopped thinking of myself that way. James feels like… a stranger, a name for the person I am supposed to be, rather than the person I am."
The confession surprised you, and you found yourself searching his face, trying to understand the layers of the man standing before you. "Is that why you asked me to call you Logan?" you asked softly, as though the gesture could bridge the distance that still lay between you.
He nodded revealing a small smile, and for a moment, the tension seemed to ease.
“Then I shall call you Logan if that is who you truly are.” You said after a moment before sitting back down in the armchair, gesturing for him to take the one across from you, and after a moment’s hesitation, he did, setting the Wordsworth volume on his knee.
"You’ve made quite a collection here," you remarked, glancing around at the overflowing shelves. "I didn’t realize you read so much."
Logan’s expression warmed, and he shrugged slightly. "There was always more to learn, more to understand," he said. "I suppose books were the one constant when everything else seemed uncertain."
You understood that sentiment all too well, and it struck you how much you had underestimated him. He was not just the reserved and sometimes brooding man society saw, nor merely the heir struggling to uphold his family's expectations. There was a depth to him, a yearning for something beyond duty. You wondered if you had misjudged him—or at least, not truly seen him.
"You mentioned your father," Logan said gently, breaking the silence. "I know you miss him. I… I would not want to keep you from seeing him. Once I’ve attended to some business here, I shall take you to Langley House. You can stay as long as you like."
The offer came so unexpectedly that you stared at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. "You would do that?" you asked, a faint tremor in your tone.
"Of course," he replied, his gaze steady on yours. "It is your home, after all. I promised I would not have you feel like a stranger here." His lips curved in a small, earnest smile. "Besides, I would not wish to be the kind of husband who denies his wife the comfort of her family."
A warmth blossomed in your chest mingled with a pang of guilt at the secret you still kept from him. For now, you allowed yourself to accept his kindness, to believe that perhaps there was something to be built between you, some foundation upon which to steady the uncertain future that lay ahead.
You returned his smile, a tentative hope stirring within you. "Thank you, Logan," you said quietly, and as the light faded from the window, the two of you sat in the small library, the silence between you no longer quite so empty.
────୨ৎ────
The sun was sinking behind the trees, casting long shadows across the entryway of Howlett Manor, as you paced back and forth, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. The hours had dragged on, each one heavier than the last, filled with the monotonous duties of running the household—duties that had felt all the more tedious with your mind fixed elsewhere.
Your father was ill, and the news had struck like a blow to the chest, leaving you restless and frantic.
You had received the message from your mother just after midday, her handwriting trembling across the page as she described your father’s sudden fever. The thought of him alone, struggling for breath while you remained stuck here, had been gnawing at you ever since. You had been prepared to leave immediately, but propriety demanded you wait for Logan’s return; a lady did not travel alone, no matter the urgency. Yet the minutes had crawled by, and still, he had not come.
Finally, as the last light of day began to fade, the front door swung open, and there he stood. Logan’s hair was damp with sweat, and his coat was dusted with the evidence of his travels, but he seemed unharmed—unlike your father, whose condition you had only grown more desperate to reach with each passing moment.
"There you are," you exclaimed, your voice sharp and edged with impatience. "I’ve been waiting all day for you to return. I need to leave for Langley House at once."
Logan blinked, taken aback by your tone. "I’m sorry, I—"
"My father is ill," you cut him off, your pacing quickening as you spoke. "He’s taken a sudden fever, and I will not wait here a moment longer. I must go to him." The words tumbled out in a frantic rush, your chest tightening with every breath.
Logan frowned, concern flashing in his eyes, but his tone remained calm. "It’s already late. The roads are dark, and it would be dangerous to travel now. We should wait until morning—"
"Morning?" You spun to face him, incredulous. "You promised, Logan. You said as soon as your business was done, you would take me to Langley House. But now you ask me to wait even longer? My father could be—" Your voice broke, and you swallowed hard, fighting the tears that threatened to spill over.
He stepped forward, his brow furrowing. "I know you're worried, but traveling in the dark—"
"I don’t care about the dark!" you shouted, your hands clenching into fists at your sides. "My father needs me, now, not when it’s convenient for you." The frustration and fear you had kept bottled up surged forward, and before you could think better of it, the words you had been holding back escaped in a rush. "I know why you married me, Logan," you said, your voice trembling with the force of your emotions. "I know the truth about you—about who you are. A bastard son, trying to secure his inheritance through this marriage."
His expression froze, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. "What… what are you talking about?" he asked, his voice low and uncertain, as if the ground beneath him had just shifted. "Who told you—"
"It doesn’t matter who told me," you snapped, your heart pounding as you took a step back. "What matters is that you only married me to secure your fortune, and now you would have me wait while my father suffers? You are no better than a liar, Logan." The name felt bitter on your tongue, as though it belonged to a stranger.
He reached for you, his voice urgent. "Please, just listen to me. I don’t—"
You shook your head, unwilling to hear whatever explanations he might have. "I’ve heard enough," you said coldly, turning on your heel and marching toward the door. "I’m going to Langley House, with or without you."
Without waiting for his response, you stormed out of the entryway and hurried to the stables, your pulse thundering in your ears. A stable hand gaped at you as you demanded a carriage be readied at once, and you hardly noticed the incredulous look the servants exchanged as you climbed inside, your hands trembling with anger and fear.
The carriage lurched forward, and you stole one last glance at the manor as it receded into the distance. You half expected Logan to follow, to call out and demand you stay, but there was nothing—only the growing darkness and the sound of the wheels on the gravel.
As the night swallowed the road ahead, the magnitude of what you had done began to sink in. You had left without hearing his side of the story, and though part of you felt justified, another part—a quieter, more uncertain part—wondered if you had made a terrible mistake.
────୨ৎ────
A few days had passed since you arrived at Langley House, and you had barely left your father's side. His fever had not yet broken, and though he sometimes seemed to drift into a peaceful sleep, there were moments when his breathing grew labored, his skin pale and damp.
You clung to his bedside, your hand wrapped around his frail fingers, fighting the exhaustion that pressed against your eyelids. The hours blurred together, and you lost track of time; all that mattered was being there, willing him to recover with every silent plea.
"You should rest, dear," your mother had said, her brow creased with worry as she hovered by the door. But you waved her off with a weary shake of your head, and after a moment’s hesitation, she left you be. It was the first time in days she had not insisted on something, and you were grateful for the silence.
At last, when even your determination could not keep your eyes open, you retreated to your old room. It felt strange to be there again—the space was exactly as you had left it, a time capsule of your girlhood, yet you felt like an intruder.
The familiar lace curtains, the faded wallpaper, the worn quilt at the foot of the bed… all reminders of a past life, one that seemed distant now that you were a wife with different burdens to bear. You lay down, but sleep remained elusive, your thoughts tangled and restless.
A soft knock interrupted the quiet, rousing you from your half-conscious state. You sat up slowly, rubbing your eyes as a servant peeked hesitantly through the door. "My lady," she murmured, "there is a gentleman here to see you."
Your chest tightened, a familiar dread curling in your stomach. "If it is Lord Howlett, tell him I am busy," you said, your voice sharper than you intended. You had not spoken to Logan since you left Howlett Manor in a fit of anger and hurt, and you were not sure you were ready to face him yet.
The servant hesitated, her eyes shifting toward the hall. "He was quite insistent, my lady." Before you could respond, the door creaked open wider, and there stood Logan, looking unlike you had ever seen him.
He was pale, his hair unruly as if he had run his hands through it too many times, and there were dark circles under his eyes, as though he had not slept in days. For a moment, he seemed almost a stranger, stripped of the composed exterior you had grown used to. There was a rawness about him that made your heart twist despite the anger you still felt.
"May I come in?" he asked, his voice rough, and there was a vulnerability in his expression that gave you pause.
You hesitated, your grip tightening on the edge of the quilt. "If you’ve come to offer more excuses, Logan, I’m not interested," you said, but the words lacked the conviction they had held days ago. His appearance, so disheveled and hollow, had already chipped away at your resolve.
He stepped inside without waiting for permission, closing the door gently behind him. "I don’t have excuses," he said quietly, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that left you breathless. "Only the truth."
You folded your arms across your chest, trying to steady yourself. "The truth?" you echoed bitterly. "And what truth would that be? That you married me only to secure your claim to Howlett Manor? That your mother’s schemes made a fool of me?"
A muscle tightened in his jaw, and he took a slow breath before answering. "I did not know," he said, the words almost a whisper, as though admitting them pained him. "I didn’t know… until you left." He took a step closer, his voice thick with raw honesty. "After you stormed off, I confronted my mother. She… she told me everything. That I am not the true heir, that my father was not my father, and that the marriage was her way of ensuring my claim remained undisputed."
You stared at him, the floor seeming to shift beneath you. "You didn’t know?" you repeated, scarcely able to believe it. "You expect me to believe that you were kept in the dark about something so… so consequential?"
"I swear to you," Logan said, his voice hoarse, "I had no idea. All my life, I believed what I was told—that I was the legitimate son of the late Lord Howlett. I never had reason to question it." His expression tightened, a shadow passing over his eyes. "But now… now I know the truth. And my mother—" He let out a bitter, broken laugh. "She’s furious with me for confronting her. She won’t speak to me. I’ve lost… I’ve lost the only family I thought I had."
The anger you had been holding onto slipped through your fingers, replaced by an ache you had not expected. You saw the hurt in his eyes, the way he struggled to keep his voice steady, and for the first time, you felt a flicker of sympathy, even guilt. Slowly, you let your arms fall to your sides.
"Why did you come here?" you asked softly, your voice wavering. "Why now?"
"Because I needed you to know," he said, his gaze searching yours for something—understanding, forgiveness, perhaps even solace. "I needed you to know that I did not deceive you, not intentionally. And… because I hoped…" His voice trailed off, and he swallowed, his eyes dark with uncertainty. "I hoped you might still be willing to come back. If not for the marriage, then… at least to speak with me. To try to understand."
You hesitated, your heart tugging in two directions. You had been so sure of his betrayal, so certain that he had used you, and yet now, seeing him so undone, so lost… It stirred something within you, a reluctant compassion that you could not quite suppress.
You slipped out of your bed and took a step toward him, your hand lifting slightly before you let it fall again. "Logan," you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. "I don’t know what to say."
He looked down, his shoulders slumping as though he had been carrying a weight too heavy to bear. "Then don’t say anything," he replied, his tone quiet and strained. "Just… let me stay. Just for a moment."
Before you knew what you were doing, you reached out, your fingers gently touching his arm. He looked up at you, surprise flickering in his eyes, and you saw how deeply this had wounded him—this revelation that had shattered the foundation of his life. Slowly, tentatively, you let your hand rest on his shoulder, feeling the tension beneath your touch.
"It’s not your fault," you murmured, the words coming unbidden but somehow feeling right. "You didn’t ask for any of this."
His breath hitched, and he took a step closer, as though drawn to your warmth, his hand coming up to cover yours where it rested on his shoulder. "I don’t know what I am now," he confessed, his voice raw. "I don’t know who I’m supposed to be."
"Well," you said softly, offering a small, tentative smile, "I suppose that's the one good thing about something so tragic. You now have the freedom to be whoever you want." Your voice carried a note of gentleness, an unspoken reassurance that you hoped might reach him.
Logan’s expression softened, though the lines of exhaustion remained etched in his face. He glanced away, as if considering your words, his hand still resting over yours. For a moment, you both stood in the quiet room, the only sound the distant ticking of a clock. The air was fragile, a sense that this moment was a truce, however brief.
You drew in a breath, your hand slipping away from his shoulder. "You look exhausted," you said, your voice just above a whisper. "You should rest."
His gaze met yours, and though he hesitated, he gave a slight nod. "If… if you don’t mind, I could stay," he murmured, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "Just for a while."
You didn’t know why you agreed so readily—perhaps it was the rawness in his voice or the way his shoulders sagged as though the weight of the world had settled there. "You can stay," you said, and then, after a beat, you added, "There is a chair by the window."
He took the offer quietly, walking over to the armchair and sinking into it as though his legs had finally given out. You climbed back into your bed, your movements slow and unsteady, and pulled the covers up to your chin, still half-aware of his presence. It was strange to think that just days ago, you had left him in a storm of anger and hurt, and now here he was—wounded, vulnerable, and seeking comfort under the same roof as you.
Your eyes grew heavy with exhaustion, the events of the past few days catching up with you all at once. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the weariness seeped into your bones, and soon, you drifted off, the soft rustling of Logan shifting in the chair the last sound you heard before darkness claimed you.
────୨ৎ────
You awoke with a start some hours later, the room dimly lit by the pale glow of moonlight filtering through the lace curtains. You turned over, expecting to see Logan still sitting in the armchair, but the chair was empty, a faint indentation on the cushion the only sign he had been there at all. For a moment, confusion clouded your thoughts, and you sat up, rubbing your eyes. Where could he have gone?
Rising from the bed, you wrapped your robe around yourself and padded into the hallway. The house was silent, the kind of deep stillness that only comes in the middle of the night.
You wandered from room to room, your footsteps echoing softly against the polished wooden floors. The familiar sights of Langley House brought a pang of nostalgia, and for a moment, you could almost imagine you were a young girl again, tiptoeing through the halls after bedtime. But the gravity of your situation quickly pulled you back to the present, and your thoughts turned to Logan.
At last, you reached your father's room and saw the door was slightly ajar, a sliver of warm light spilling into the hallway. You pushed it open gently and paused in the doorway, your breath catching at the sight before you.
Logan was seated by your father’s bedside, his head bowed and his hands clasped together as if in prayer. His voice was a low murmur, almost inaudible, and though you could not make out the words, you could hear the raw emotion in them. Your father lay still, his breaths steady but faint, and you noticed the way Logan reached out to touch the old man’s hand, his fingers brushing gently over the wrinkled skin as though offering a silent promise.
You took a step inside, the floorboard creaking beneath your weight. Logan’s head snapped up, his eyes meeting yours in the dim light. For a heartbeat, you both remained still, the air between you thick with unspoken words.
"I didn’t mean to intrude," he said quietly, his voice rough with fatigue. "I… I woke and found myself unable to sleep. I thought I might… check on him." There was a tenderness in his tone and it sent a strange warmth coursing through you.
You walked slowly to your father's bedside, your gaze shifting between the frail figure in the bed and the man sitting beside him. "You didn’t have to come here," you murmured, though there was no reproach in your voice, only a quiet gratitude you had not expected to feel. "But thank you."
Logan shook his head, a faint, tired smile pulling at his lips. "I wanted to," he replied, his hand still resting on your father's. "I thought… if I my father were like this, I would have wanted someone to be there with him. Even if it wasn’t me."
The words touched something deep within you, and you found yourself sitting down in the chair across from him. The silence settled over the room again, but it no longer felt oppressive. It was a silence of shared understanding, of finding comfort in the presence of another even when there was nothing more to be said.
"Why did you come here, Logan?" you asked softly, the question escaping before you could stop it. "Why did you follow me to Langley House after everything that happened? I know you said it was to tell me the truth but—"
His gaze lifted to meet yours, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes. "Because I made a promise," he said, his voice steady but low. "And because… I didn’t want you to face this alone."
A lump formed in your throat, and you looked down at your father, his breathing steady and rhythmic, as if reminding you that time was still on your side. "You didn’t have to keep that promise," you whispered. "Not after—"
"But I wanted to," Logan interrupted, his tone firmer now. "I wanted to because… because I care." The last words came out in a hushed tone, as though they were fragile and needed to be handled with care. "And because, despite everything, I hoped that… maybe we could still find a way to make this work."
You inhaled slowly, your gaze still fixed on your father's frail form. The sincerity in Logan's voice stirred something in you that you had tried to bury beneath anger and hurt. You reached out, your hand finding Logan's where it rested on the edge of the bed. His skin was cool beneath your touch, and you felt him tense for a moment before his fingers curled gently around yours.
"I don’t know what will happen," you murmured, your voice barely audible in the hushed stillness of the room. Your gaze remained fixed on your father's frail form, his breaths slow and steady. "My feelings… they’re complicated. All I can think about right now is him—nothing else." The words came out in a strained whisper, the weight of them pressing heavily on your chest.
Logan's eyes never left you, his expression open yet laced with concern. "I’m not asking for anything more than for you to trust me," he said, his voice steady but soft, as though he knew this was fragile ground you stood upon. "That’s all, I promise."
The sincerity in his tone unsettled you more than any declaration of love or grand gesture might have. You stood, shaking your head, unable to shake the feeling that this conversation was too much for your father’s ears—even if he was too weak to hear a single word. "Not here," you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you walked toward the door. "This… it’s too much."
Logan followed you into the dimly lit hallway, pulling the door closed behind him with a quiet click. The air between you felt charged and tense, and as you turned to walk away, you felt his hand catch yours, his fingers curling around yours in a tentative hold.
"I can’t make promises," you said quickly, pulling your hand free with a frustrated shake. "You say things like that, and my mind begins to spin. What if it’s all just another lie? Another way to keep me obedient and… and compliant." The words tumbled out, each one weighted with the uncertainty and fear that had been building inside you. "You would lose everything if we fail to produce an heir. Did your mother tell you that? Did she tell you what’s at stake?"
Logan’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, there was a flash of something in his eyes—hurt, perhaps, or frustration.
When he spoke, his tone was calm, edged with a quiet determination. "She told me… enough," he admitted, his voice low. "Enough to know what is expected of us." He took a step closer, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that made your heart quicken. "But I am not my mother, and I did not marry you to force you into anything. I won’t make promises I can’t keep, but the one thing I can swear to is this: I have no intention of deceiving you."
You swallowed hard, your breath catching in your throat. "You say that now, but… what happens when time passes and there is still no heir? Will you still be so understanding then?" The doubt laced through your voice, but beneath it was a flicker of hope that you desperately tried to suppress.
His eyes softened, a mixture of sadness and resolve glinting in the depths. "I don’t care about titles, or legacies, or any of the things my mother obsesses over," he said, his voice roughened by an emotion you could not name. "I care about you. I care about the truth between us, even if it’s a tangled mess right now." He reached for your hand again, his touch gentler this time, as if he were asking rather than taking. "I know I’m not perfect, and I know you don’t owe me anything. But I’m asking you to give me a chance to prove that I can be the man you deserve, and not just the husband you ended up with because of circumstance."
You stared at his hand over yours, the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin, and for a moment, you couldn’t speak. The walls you had built up since leaving Howlett Manor felt as though they were crumbling, brick by brick, under the weight of his words. There was still a voice inside you, one that whispered caution.
"I don’t know if I can trust that," you whispered, your voice breaking. "How do I know this isn’t just a way to secure what you need? How do I know you’re not saying what I want to hear just to keep me from running?"
Logan’s grip tightened slightly, his fingers lacing through yours as if to anchor you. "Because I’m not asking you to stay for obligation’s sake," he said, the rawness in his tone sending a shiver down your spine. "I’m asking because I want to try and build something real with you—something beyond what anyone else expects of us." His other hand rose to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. "If you walk away now, I won’t stop you. But if you give me a chance… we can start by just… finding a way to be ourselves again. Not lord and lady, not husband and wife, but just… us."
The tenderness in his touch, the way his eyes searched yours for any sign of hope, struck you deeply. You felt a swell of emotions rising within you—fear, longing, confusion—all tangled together and impossible to untangle.
Slowly, hesitantly, you let out a breath, your chest tightening as you took a step closer, feeling the warmth radiating from Logan’s skin. "All right," you said, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to steady it. "We can try… but only if we’re honest with each other. Completely honest." The words felt like both a promise and a challenge, an unspoken plea for something real in a world that often felt like a tangle of duty and deceit.
Logan nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. There was an intensity there, a quiet determination that made your pulse quicken. His gaze flickered from your eyes down to your lips as they parted, and the faintest smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, as though he were allowing himself, for the first time, to believe that there could be more between you than obligation.
"That’s all I’m asking for," he murmured, his voice low and rough. His hand fell away from your cheek, lingering in the space between you as if he wasn’t quite ready to let go entirely.
The silence seemed to thrum with possibilities, the air thick with an unspoken question that neither of you dared to voice. You were close enough to feel the warmth of his breath, to see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes—the same uncertainty that you felt rising within you.
The memory of your first kiss drifted to the forefront of your mind: a soft, quick exchange during the wedding ceremony, one that had felt more like a formality than a true connection. This time, though, would it feel different? Would it feel real, tangible? The air itself was urging you to close the gap, to explore what lay beyond the roles you had both been playing.
Just as you took a breath as if to bridge the final inches, a soft voice interrupted the charged stillness. "Am I interrupting something?"
You and Logan sprang apart, the moment shattering like glass. Your head snapped toward the doorway where your father stood, his frame leaning slightly against the doorframe for support. His color was better, his cheeks no longer pale and hollow, and there was a hint of mischief in his eyes as they flicked between you and Logan. It was the most life you had seen in him since your arrival, and despite the awkwardness of the moment, a wave of relief washed over you.
"Papa," you said, your voice coming out higher than intended as you quickly brushed a hand over your hair, as if smoothing away any trace of what had almost happened. "I didn’t realize you were awake."
"I woke a short while ago," he replied, a slight grin tugging at his lips. "Though I can see I’ve walked in at a… delicate moment." He shifted his gaze to Logan, giving him a nod that was both acknowledging and appraising. "I suppose I should thank you, Lord Howlett, for keeping my daughter company while I recovered. I understand it must be rather difficult, managing a wife as stubborn as she is." His tone was light, teasing, but there was a glint of approval in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.
Logan dipped his head in a slight bow. "It is an honor, sir," he replied, his voice soft. "And I would say it’s rather a privilege to have a wife with such spirit. It keeps a man on his toes."
Your father chuckled softly, his laughter a welcome sound in the room. "Well spoken, my boy. Well-spoken." He glanced at you, his gaze warm with affection. "And you, my dear—you look as though you haven’t slept in days. You mustn’t worry so much over an old man like me. I’m feeling quite a bit better now, thanks to your constant vigilance." His voice softened. "I could hear you, you know… sitting by my bed, speaking to me even when I couldn’t respond."
A knot formed in your throat, and you quickly turned your head away, blinking back the sudden prick of tears. "I only did what any daughter would do," you murmured, the words catching slightly as you tried to compose yourself. "I’m just relieved you’re on the mend."
"Indeed I am," he said with a faint smile. "And I will continue to be, especially if I can trust that you’ll both refrain from causing a scandal in the middle of my convalescence." His gaze drifted pointedly back to Logan, a hint of fatherly protectiveness in his tone.
Logan met his eyes with a quiet assurance. "You needn’t worry, sir. I intend to take care of her," he said, his voice steady, but then he glanced toward you, the corner of his mouth curling up. "If she’ll allow me to."
There was something in his expression, something earnest and unguarded that sent a flutter through your chest. You felt a blush creep up your cheeks and quickly turned back to your father. "You should rest more," you said, avoiding Logan’s gaze as you walked into the room, busying yourself with adjusting your father’s pillows. "You’re still recovering, and I don’t want you overexerting yourself."
Your father gave you a knowing smile, then settled back into the bed with a sigh. "I suppose you’re right, my dear. But I expect to be up and about soon. And perhaps…" he glanced meaningfully between you and Logan, "if all goes well, I shall see some progress between the two of you by then."
"Father," you chided, though the blush on your cheeks deepened.
Logan only smiled, his eyes meeting yours with a quiet promise. "I think that’s a fair expectation, sir," he said, his voice softening as he held your gaze a moment longer than necessary.
You turned to leave the room and the feeling of his eyes on you lingered like a gentle warmth, as though the moment you had shared wasn’t entirely lost—just postponed, waiting to be resumed in the stillness of a future yet to be written.
────୨ৎ────
It felt oddly intimate, sitting outside for afternoon tea with the whole family, including Logan. The air was warm, softened by a gentle breeze that stirred the leaves of the nearby oak tree and rustled the delicate lace on your sleeves. You were seated at the white metal table beneath the shade of a parasol, idly fanning yourself as you watched the scene unfolding on the lawn.
Your father, who had recovered remarkably well, stood with his cane in hand, his posture straighter than it had been in weeks. Beside him was Logan, who looked unusually relaxed in his shirtsleeves, his coat draped over the back of a nearby chair. They were both attempting to teach your youngest sister the finer points of pallmall, though judging by her shrieks of laughter and exaggerated swings, it was clear she was more interested in chaos than in any true mastery of the game.
Your father pointed toward the wooden ball with his cane, giving some encouragement, while Logan crouched down to demonstrate the correct stance, his deep voice carrying across the garden.
You could see the way your sister's eyes sparkled as she looked at him, her cheeks flushed with excitement. There was a natural ease to Logan’s movements, a gentleness in his manner that you had not always seen. It stirred something unfamiliar and unsettling in you.
"He is rather easy on the eyes, isn’t he?"
You blinked and turned sharply toward your mother, who sat beside you, a faint smile curling at the corners of her lips.
"Oh, please, do not speak about Father that way," you quipped, rolling your eyes. But when you saw the mischievous arch of your mother’s brow, you realized with a jolt that she had not been referring to your father at all. "Mama!" you hissed, heat rising to your cheeks.
"What?" She gave an innocent shrug, though the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her amusement. "I may be an old woman, but I am not blind. And you’d do well to notice the way he looks at you." She glanced pointedly in Logan’s direction, and when you followed her gaze, you caught him watching you, his expression softening as your eyes met.
Quickly, you turned your attention back to your teacup, lifting it to your lips to hide the sudden flutter in your chest. "You’re imagining things, Mama," you murmured, keeping your tone dismissive, but there was no mistaking the warmth that crept into your voice.
"Am I?" your mother replied with a knowing smile. "Well, if I am, then perhaps I should get my eyes checked." She sipped her tea, her gaze lingering on Logan for a moment longer before turning to engage one of your sisters in conversation.
You chanced another glance across the lawn. Logan had returned to coaching your sister, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder as he corrected her stance. His hair fell untidily over his forehead, the sunlight catching in the strands, and there was an easy grace to him that seemed to draw you in against your will. It was as if you were seeing him anew. Someone who had begun to carve out a space in your thoughts, even when you hadn’t wanted him to.
As the game concluded and your sister raced off in pursuit of a butterfly, Logan strolled back toward the table, his gaze finding yours as if pulled there by some unseen force. He stopped beside your chair, a playful glint in his eye. "Would you care to join the game?" he asked, his tone light. "Your sister claims she is now the undisputed champion and says you would be no match for her."
You couldn’t help but smile at that. "Is that so?" you replied, arching a brow. "And did you encourage this confidence of hers, my lord?"
"Only a little," he admitted, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a faint smile. "But I believe it’s warranted. She has quite the swing."
"Then perhaps I ought to prove her wrong," you said, setting your teacup aside and rising from your chair. There was a flutter of anticipation in your chest as you stepped onto the lawn, and Logan offered you his arm, which you accepted, feeling a jolt of warmth spread from the point of contact. It was a small, ordinary gesture, yet it seemed to speak volumes—an unspoken acknowledgment that something was shifting between you.
He guided you to where the mallet lay on the grass, his hand lingering at the small of your back for just a moment. "Shall I show you the proper stance, or do you already consider yourself an expert?" he asked, his voice laced with a playful challenge.
You couldn’t resist the faint smile that tugged at your lips. "I think I can manage," you said, taking up the mallet and positioning yourself with as much grace as you could muster. But as you prepared to take the swing, you felt Logan step closer, his presence a comforting heat at your back.
"Here," he murmured, reaching around you to adjust your grip. His hand closed over yours, his touch firm but gentle, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your temple. "You’ll get a better aim if you angle the mallet just slightly…" His voice trailed off as his gaze met yours, his eyes dark and intent, as though he had forgotten entirely about pallmall.
You held your breath, aware of the inches that separated you—of how easy it would be to turn, to close that distance, to see if his lips were as warm and steady as his hands. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you wondered if he felt it too. If he, too, was resisting the pull.
Just as you were about to speak, to say something—anything—your sister called out from across the lawn, breaking the spell. The moment shattered, and you quickly stepped forward, your cheeks warm with something that felt dangerously close to longing.
"Thank you," you said, your voice steadier than you felt. "For the… instruction."
Logan’s lips curved in a faint smile, though there was a hint of something unspoken in his eyes as he stepped back. "Anytime," he replied, his tone gentle. "Though I think you hardly needed my help."
You turned away as your pulse quickened. You looked back toward the table where your mother sat, her expression unreadable, and you couldn’t help but feel as though something definitely between you and Logan had shifted, even if you weren’t quite sure what it was.
────୨ৎ────
The journey back to Howlett Manor was marked by a heavy, simmering silence. The wheels of the carriage rumbled over the uneven road, but it did little to distract you from the charged tension that hung between you and Logan.
He had spoken only a few words since leaving Langley House, his voice low and hesitant, while you had responded with polite nods, unwilling to break the quiet. It was as if something taut and brittle was between you, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.
When the carriage finally rolled to a halt, you glanced out the window and saw Lady Elizabeth waiting on the manor steps, her expression as sharp as a blade. She stood rigidly, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes narrowing as she spotted the carriage. The sight of her sent a chill through you, and even before she spoke, you could sense the confrontation that awaited.
Logan let out a weary sigh, his hand already on the door handle. "Stay here," he murmured, his tone edged with frustration. "I’ll deal with her."
But you were already reaching for the door, refusing to remain hidden like some guilty secret. "I will not," you said, your voice firm as you stepped out into the cool evening air.
The weight of his gaze was palpable as you moved past him, and you heard him mutter under his breath, a resigned, "Of course, you wouldn’t."
Lady Elizabeth descended the steps as you approached, her dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. There was no warmth in her expression—only a cold, calculated disdain that spoke volumes before she even opened her mouth.
"So," she said, her voice cutting through the air like a blade, "you’ve come back. And after the disgraceful way you left, no less." Her gaze flicked to Logan, as though seeking confirmation of your audacity. "I expect an apology, from both of you."
Logan's jaw tightened as he stepped beside you, his voice low and steady. "An apology?" he echoed, his brow furrowing. "For what, exactly?"
"For trying to bring scandal upon this family," Lady Elizabeth snapped, her eyes flashing as she turned her glare fully on you. "Leaving without a word, abandoning your duties as my son's wife. It was irresponsible, childish—"
"Enough," Logan interrupted, his tone sharp and edged with something you hadn’t heard before—a warning. He took a step forward, positioning himself slightly in front of you, as though shielding you from his mother’s words. "This is not her fault."
Lady Elizabeth’s mouth tightened into a thin line. "She left this manor in a fit of temper, and I will not stand by and have my family's reputation dragged through the mud by some—"
"She left because of the lies," Logan cut in, his voice rising. "Because of your lies." His eyes darkened, and he held his mother’s gaze without flinching. "She knows, Mother. About me. About the truth of my birth."
The silence that followed was like the calm before a storm, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something—fear, perhaps, or anger—in Lady Elizabeth's eyes. But it vanished as quickly as it had come, replaced by a cold, imperious stare. "And did you think it was wise to reveal such a thing?" she spat, her tone laced with venom. "To her?" Her gaze darted to you, filled with contempt. "What does she know of the sacrifices that were made to keep this family’s legacy intact?"
Your heart pounded in your chest, a surge of indignation rising in you. "I know that whatever sacrifices were made, they were not mine to make," you said, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and defiance. "I was used as a pawn in a game I didn’t even know I was playing."
Lady Elizabeth’s lips curled into a sneer. "A pawn, indeed. It is you who stands to gain from this marriage, my dear. Or did you think your family's situation was not known to us?"
Logan took another step forward, his hand clenching at his side. "That’s enough," he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "I won’t let you speak to her like that."
His mother’s eyes widened, a flicker of shock breaking through her composure. "You would take her side over mine?" she asked, incredulity dripping from each word. "I did what was necessary to secure your future, to ensure that you would not be cast aside. Now you turn on me for the sake of—"
"Leave," Logan said abruptly, his voice hardening to steel. "Leave now, before you say something you cannot take back."
For a moment, it seemed as though she might argue, but then she straightened, drawing herself up with all the dignity she could muster. "Very well," she said icily, her gaze flicking to you one last time, as though etching you into her memory with distaste. "But do not think this matter is settled." She turned sharply on her heel and strode back up the steps, disappearing into the manor with a swish of her skirts, leaving a chill in her wake.
The silence descended once more, you let out a breath. The encounter had left you shaken, and yet… there was a strange sense of relief, too. You glanced at Logan, who was still standing rigidly, his eyes fixed on the place where his mother had just vanished. There was a tightness in his jaw, an unspoken conflict that lingered in the lines of his face.
"You didn’t have to do that," you said quietly, your voice softening. "She’s your mother."
He shook his head slowly, his expression unreadable. "That doesn’t give her the right to speak to you that way," he murmured, his gaze finally shifting to meet yours. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—like longing, or perhaps relief, as though in defending you, he had also taken a step toward freeing himself from his mother’s expectations. "I promised to be honest with you," he continued. "And I meant it. Whatever else happens, I will not let her dictate our lives."
You felt a rush of warmth, not just from his words but from the quiet intensity with which he spoke them. It wasn’t just a defense; it was a declaration—a small but significant act of loyalty that stirred something deep within you. You took a step closer, your fingers brushing against his hand in a tentative gesture of gratitude, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.
The silence stretched between you, almost as a shared understanding—a bond that had begun to form amid secrets and betrayals, and was slowly becoming something more solid. Logan’s fingers curled around yours, and the touch felt like a promise in itself.
"Come," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. "Let’s go inside.”
You nodded, allowing him to lead you back into the manor, your hand still clasped in his. As you crossed the threshold together, you couldn’t help but feel that, despite everything, there was a glimmer of hope despite the uncertainty of the future.
Later that night, you found yourself pacing the length of your chamber, your footsteps muffled by the thick rug beneath your bare feet.
Sleep had become a rare visitor since the wedding; Howlett Manor held a kind of darkness that seemed to linger in the very walls, keeping you on edge. The vast, silent corridors, the draughts that whispered through the halls, the way the night settled heavily over the estate. It was as though the manor itself was unsettled, restless, and it had passed that restlessness on to you.
Then there were the sounds. Soft, distant groaning that seemed to rise and fall on the air. You had dismissed it before, convincing yourself it was nothing more than the old bones of the house shifting or the wind rattling the shutters. But tonight, as you stood in the shadows of your room, the sound came again, louder this time, and unmistakably human. It clawed at your nerves, tugging at your curiosity and, despite the unease prickling along your spine, you felt compelled to find out what—or who—was behind it.
Drawing in a breath to steady yourself, you reached for the door handle and slipped out into the dimly lit corridor. The candles along the walls flickered as you passed, casting long, wavering shadows that danced on the stone. You followed the noise, the low groaning growing clearer, guiding you down the hallway and toward one of the rooms.
As you drew closer, the sound sharpened into muffled cries, pained and desperate. You hesitated at the door, your hand hovering over the handle. It was Logan’s voice, unmistakable even in its anguish. A shudder ran through you as you pressed your ear to the wood, your pulse quickening. Was he hurt? Was someone in there with him?
You turned the handle and pushed the door open gently, peering into the darkness of the room. Logan lay sprawled on the bed, the sheets twisted around his limbs, his chest rising and falling rapidly as though he were struggling for breath. His face was contorted in agony, beads of sweat glistening on his brow. The groans came again, low and tortured, escaping his lips as he writhed in the grip of some unseen terror.
Without thinking, you hurried to his side, your heart pounding. "Logan," you whispered, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Logan, wake up. It’s just a dream—"
The moment your fingers brushed against his skin, his eyes flew open, wide and unfocused. Before you could react, his hand shot out, grasping your wrist in a vice-like grip and yanking you closer. The suddenness of the movement sent you stumbling forward, and you cried out as his other arm came around, knocking you off balance. You fell against the bed, your wrist pinned painfully beneath his hand.
"Logan, stop!" you gasped, your voice high and trembling. "It’s me—"
His eyes were wild, unseeing, and for a terrifying moment, you weren’t sure he recognized you at all. His grip tightened, and you winced, a sharp pain shooting through your wrist. But then his gaze seemed to clear, the dark confusion lifting as he blinked and released you as though burned.
The room fell into a tense silence as you pulled your arm back, rubbing your sore wrist and staring at him, your breath coming fast. Logan's eyes widened with horror as he took in the scene, his chest still heaving with the remnants of his nightmare.
"I—I didn’t mean to—" His voice cracked, and he sat up abruptly, his hand trembling as he reached toward you. "Are you all right?"
You nodded shakily, though your heart still raced. "I’m fine," you said, though your voice came out quieter than you intended. "It’s just… you were having a nightmare. I tried to wake you, but you…" You swallowed, the words trailing off as you looked down at your wrist, where faint red marks were already starting to form.
His gaze followed yours, and his expression crumpled with guilt. "God, I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice rough with shame. "I—I've never meant to hurt you. I didn’t even know it was you. I thought—" He broke off, running a hand through his disheveled hair, his fingers tangling in the damp strands. "I thought I was still… there."
You hesitated, the pain in your wrist already ebbing, replaced by a different kind of ache—one that came from seeing the despair in his eyes, the way his shoulders slumped as though he carried the weight of a lifetime’s worth of regrets. "Still where?" you asked softly, your gaze searching his face. "Logan, what did you dream about?"
He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he stared down at his hands, which lay open in his lap as though he were afraid of what they might do. "I have the same nightmare every night," he admitted, his voice low and unsteady. "It’s always the same. I see my father… the man who raised me. He’s lying there, lifeless, and it’s my fault. I’m the one who…" His voice broke, and he looked away, his breath shuddering. "I’m the one who killed him."
The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. You stared at him, your pulse thrumming in your ears as the full weight of his confession settled over you. "Logan…" you breathed, not knowing what else to say. There was a rawness in his voice that tore at you, a grief and self-loathing that seemed to spill out in waves. You found yourself reaching for him, hesitantly resting your hand on his arm, your touch light and tentative.
"He died years ago," Logan continued his voice barely above a whisper. "It was an accident, but… I was there. I could have stopped it. I should have stopped it." He let out a harsh, bitter laugh that made your heart clench. "I suppose that’s why the nightmares won’t leave. They remind me of what I could never make right."
You tightened your grip on his arm, drawing his gaze back to yours. "It wasn’t your fault," you said gently, the words spilling out even though you knew they might not bring him any comfort. "You can’t blame yourself for something you couldn’t control."
His eyes searched yours, a flicker of something glinting in the depths. "You shouldn’t be here," he said quietly, though he made no move to pull away from you. "You should have left me to my demons. It’s safer that way."
"Perhaps," you replied, your voice barely more than a breath as you looked down at where your hand rested on his arm. "But if I left, who would keep you from them?"
For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then, without fully understanding why, you leaned in closer, your touch sliding from his arm to his hand, your fingers threading through his. The silence between you was heavy. It was as though you were sharing the same breath, the same pain. Somehow, that made it a little more bearable for him.
Logan’s hand tightened around yours, and when he exhaled, it was as though some of the weight had lifted from his chest. "Stay," he murmured, his voice roughened by exhaustion. "Just for tonight."
You nodded, not trusting your voice to speak. As you settled back against the pillows, Logan lay down beside you, his body still tense but his grip on your hand unwavering. The darkness seemed to close in around you both, but this time, it felt less like a threat and more like a shared refuge.
Eventually, the rhythm of his breathing steadied, and you felt yourself slipping into sleep, lulled by the quiet comfort of his presence.
When the early morning light peeked through the curtains, its soft glow casting pale golden streaks across the bed, you were certain you were alone. The events of last night already seemed like a distant dream—the nightmare, Logan’s confession, the way you had fallen asleep side by side. The sheets felt cool where you lay, and for a moment, you wondered if he had left before dawn, quietly slipping away to avoid the awkwardness of the morning after.
You let out a small sigh and reached out tentatively, your hand roaming across the mattress, half-expecting to find only the emptiness where he had been. But then, your fingertips brushed against something warm. Your eyelids fluttered open, and you turned your head to see Logan lying there, his back to you, balanced precariously near the edge of the bed as if he had tried to keep as much distance between you as possible. It was almost comical—this broad-shouldered man, practically dangling off the side, as though the mere thought of sharing space with you was a dangerous line he dared not cross.
A small, unbidden smile tugged at your lips as you took in the sight. It was… endearing, in a way, how he seemed so out of place there, awkwardly trying to respect a boundary that neither of you had defined. The tension of the night had faded into something softer and sweet. You hadn’t meant to wake him, but you couldn’t help it—the sight of him like this, so different from his usual composed self, made you want to tease him, just a little.
"Are you planning on falling out of the bed, or are you just trying to escape?" you whispered, your voice still husky with sleep.
Logan stirred, a faint groan escaping him as he rolled over slowly, blinking against the morning light. His hair was tousled, falling into his eyes, and there was a faint crease on his cheek where it had pressed against the pillow. He looked at you, still half-asleep, and it took a moment for your words to register. Then a sheepish smile curved his lips, and he rubbed a hand over his face.
"I didn’t want to crowd you," he murmured, his voice rough and low. "You were asleep, and I… wasn’t sure if you’d…" He trailed off, his cheeks coloring slightly as if realizing how ridiculous he must have looked, hanging onto the edge for dear life.
A small laugh bubbled out of you, the sound light and unexpected. "I think the bed is big enough for the both of us," you teased gently, unable to hide the warmth in your tone. "You didn’t have to keep such a dramatic distance."
Logan’s smile grew, a flicker of amusement in his eyes now. "Well, I didn’t want you to wake up and think I’d taken advantage of your kindness," he said, his tone softening. "I didn’t want to… presume."
The sincerity in his voice made your heart squeeze, and for a moment, the awkwardness settled into something that made your pulse quicken. You hadn’t even realized until now just how much his presence comforted you, how safe you had felt lying beside him last night. The realization came with a rush of something warm and unfamiliar, and it took you by surprise.
"Well," you said, your gaze drifting to where his hand rested on the sheets between you, "if you’re so worried about my comfort, perhaps next time you can stay closer… so you don’t fall off the bed." The words left your lips before you could fully think them through, and as they hung in the air, you felt a blush creep up your neck, your cheeks warming with the boldness of your suggestion.
Logan’s eyes widened slightly, a mixture of surprise and something like hope shimmering in their depths. He glanced down at your hand, which had somehow drifted closer to his, and a crooked, endearing smile touched his lips. "Next time?" he repeated, his voice laced with a hint of playful curiosity. "So you’re already planning on sharing a bed with me again?"
You bit your lip, a nervous laugh escaping as you quickly shook your head. "That’s not what I meant," you stammered, though the smile pulling at your mouth betrayed you. "I just—well, I meant if… circumstances were to, you know… happen again." The words felt clumsy and inadequate, but there was no taking them back now.
Logan chuckled softly, his gaze warm and lingering on your face. "I see," he said, his voice dropping to a tender murmur. "If circumstances… happen."
You nodded, feeling a sudden wave of self-consciousness wash over you. The room seemed too bright, too intimate in the morning light, and you reached for the edge of the blanket, pulling it higher as if it could shield you from the vulnerability of the moment. Logan cleared his throat, the sound breaking the silence in a way that felt almost painfully loud.
"I should… I have matters to attend to with my mother," he said, his voice sounding rougher than usual. "I’m positive she’s still fuming." There was a faint hint of a wry smile on his lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
You nodded again, quickly, unsure if you could trust your voice not to betray the odd mixture of emotions swirling inside you. Relief, embarrassment, something like disappointment—it all tangled together, making it hard to breathe. Logan took your silence as agreement and turned away, slipping out of the bed with a fluid, quiet movement.
You found yourself glancing over at him before you could stop yourself, and then quickly averted your gaze when you noticed the way his nightshirt clung to his back, the fabric outlining the curve of his shoulders and the lean muscles beneath. You swallowed hard, focusing intently on a spot on the floor, as though it were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.
Logan’s bare feet padded softly on the rug as he gathered his clothes, his movements quick but not hurried, as if he too was acutely aware of the lingering awkwardness in the air. "I… I’ll see you later," he said, his voice low and hesitant, as though he were testing the words before letting them go.
"Yes," you managed to reply, though your voice came out softer than you intended. "Later."
For a brief moment, he hesitated at the door, his hand resting on the frame as if considering saying something more. But then, with a small nod, he slipped out, the door clicking shut behind him.
You exhaled slowly, sinking back into the pillows, the blanket still pulled up close. The room seemed larger now, emptier, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he had felt the same pull that you had—the subtle, magnetic pull that had lingered in the space between you. You pushed the thought away, telling yourself that it was foolish to read too much into a moment shared in the quiet hours of dawn.
────୨ৎ────
The better part of the day had passed in the garden, where the air was thick with the scent of blooming roses and the gentle hum of bees. You had retreated there after hearing the heated voices echoing up from downstairs. Lady Elizabeth’s clipped tones and Logan’s frustrated replies had risen in a crescendo that spilled into the halls, making it clear that whatever rift lay between them was far from being mended.
It seemed wise to keep your distance, and so you had found a book, tucked yourself into a quiet corner at the far edge of the garden, and tried to lose yourself in the pages while the murmur of nature surrounded you.
The stone bench beneath you was warmed by the sun, and though you kept your eyes trained on the book in your lap, the words seemed to blur together. You had long since given up on following the plot, your thoughts drifting back to the night before—Logan’s haunted confession, the way he had looked at you as if you were the only thing grounding him in the present. The memory of it lingered, unbidden, in the back of your mind, filling you with a confusing mix of tenderness and doubt.
The crunch of footsteps on the gravel path drew your attention, and you glanced up to see Logan approaching. His expression, which had been set in a firm line, softened as his gaze met yours. He looked weary, as though whatever argument he had just endured had drained him of energy, yet there was also a quiet determination in the way he carried himself, his shoulders squared despite the tension in his jaw.
"May I join you?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of hesitation, as though he were uncertain of his welcome.
You closed the book gently, offering a small nod. "Of course," you said, shifting slightly to make room for him on the bench. "How… how did it go with your mother?"
He sank beside you, his sigh barely audible but weighted with frustration. "As well as can be expected," he replied, running a hand through his hair. "Which is to say, not well at all." He paused, glancing at the neatly trimmed hedges and the flowers that swayed in the breeze. "But I've made a decision." His tone softened, and he turned to look at you. "My mother will be moving out of Howlett Manor."
The statement took you by surprise, and you blinked, unsure if you had heard him correctly. "She’s leaving?"
Logan nodded, his gaze steady. "Yes. I think… it’s for the best. It’s become clear that we cannot live under the same roof without tearing each other apart." He hesitated, his fingers tapping lightly on his knee as though he were working up the nerve to say something more. "With her gone, there will be… a lot of space in the manor. I was thinking… if you’d like, your family could move in. The Langleys could make this place their home too."
The offer hung in the air between you, carrying with it the weight of an unspoken promise. For a moment, you didn’t know what to say, your thoughts tangling in your mind. "That’s… kind of you to suggest," you began slowly, your gaze falling to your hands. "But our marriage… things are still so uncertain." You swallowed your throat tight with the admission. "I don’t know if we should be making decisions like this when we don’t even know what the future holds for us."
Logan's hand reached for yours, his touch gentle yet firm. "I know things are uncertain," he said quietly, his voice raw with sincerity. "But I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this marriage real—to make us real." His thumb brushed over your knuckles, sending a shiver through you. "I like you. I like the way you challenge me, the way you look at me as though I’m worth trying for. I want this to work, not because we have to, but because I choose to."
His words seemed to reach inside you, stirring something that had been long dormant—something warm and fragile that blossomed with each passing second. You looked up at him, your heart racing, your breath caught somewhere between hope and fear. "You… you mean that?" you whispered, your voice barely audible. "You’d choose this, even if—"
"I would," he interrupted softly, his other hand reaching to cup your cheek, his touch feather-light, as though he were afraid to break whatever spell lay between you. "If you’ll let me."
The moment stretched out, the world around you fading into the background until there was only him, his gaze locked on yours, his breath mingling with the warm air. You leaned in, almost without thinking, your eyes fluttering shut as your lips met his, tentative and searching. The kiss was soft at first, a gentle brush that sent a tremor through you, but as he deepened it, a quiet urgency arose, his hand slipping to the nape of your neck to pull you closer.
The world seemed to tilt, and when you finally pulled back, breathless, you saw a light in Logan’s eyes that you had never seen before—a mixture of relief, hope, and tenderness. That set your heart racing all over again.
"You kissed me back," he murmured, a hint of wonder in his voice as his thumb traced your cheek.
"I suppose I did," you replied, a shy smile tugging at your lips as you felt the warmth of his hand still against your skin. "It seems I’ve made my choice too."
He leaned his forehead against yours, his breath still slightly uneven. "Then let’s make this work," he whispered, the words like a promise carried on the breeze. "Together."
────୨ৎ────
The morning sun spilled through the tall windows of the nursery, casting a golden light over the pale blue walls and the delicate lace curtains that swayed ever so slightly with the summer breeze. The room was filled with the soft sounds of cooing and gentle rocking, and you sat in the cushioned chair near the window, cradling your newborn daughter in your arms. Her tiny fingers curled around your thumb, and you marveled at how something so small could hold your entire heart within her grasp.
The past year had swept by like a dream, and Howlett Manor had become a place of life and laughter in ways you hadn’t imagined when you first arrived. The once lonely halls were now filled with warmth, with family, and with a love that had grown slowly, steadily, and then all at once.
Logan appeared in the doorway, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a streak of dirt smudged on his cheek, evidence of whatever task had drawn him outside earlier. His eyes softened when he saw you, his gaze drifting down to the baby nestled in your arms. "She’s awake," he murmured, his voice low and filled with a quiet wonder that had not diminished since the day she was born.
You looked up at him, your heart swelling with affection as you noticed the way he lingered in the doorway, as though hesitant to disturb the peacefulness of the moment. "Come here," you whispered, tilting your head in invitation. "She’ll be glad to see her father."
He crossed the room in a few strides, his movements careful as though he were still getting used to the idea of this tiny new life you had brought into the world together. As he reached out to take her from you, his fingers brushed against yours, and you shared a quiet smile. The love between you had become something tangible, something that seemed to shimmer in the air every time your eyes met.
Logan cradled his daughter with a tenderness that belied his strong, rugged exterior. She blinked up at him, her wide eyes reflecting the light as she reached for his nose, her tiny hand waving in the air. "There you are, little one," he murmured, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur that was only for her. "You’re going to be causing all sorts of trouble before we know it, aren’t you?"
You laughed softly, leaning your head back against the chair as you watched them together. "If she’s anything like her father, she’ll be climbing out of windows and sneaking into the stables before she can even walk," you teased.
He glanced at you, his mouth curving into a playful smile. "And if she’s anything like her mother," he countered, "she’ll have a stubborn streak a mile wide and won’t take no for an answer."
The joy in his eyes was undeniable, and it was a joy that had become commonplace at Howlett Manor. The changes were everywhere—in the lively dinners shared around the long oak table, where your father told stories that made your mother laugh like a young girl again; in the afternoons when your sisters played with the dogs in the garden, their laughter carrying on the wind. The Langleys had made the manor their home, and though the arrangement had been born out of necessity, it had grown into something far richer—a tapestry of shared lives and everyday happiness.
The sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, and your mother appeared at the door, a fond smile on her face as she saw the three of you together. "There you are," she said warmly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "We were wondering if you planned to join us for the midday meal, or if we should come to you."
"We’ll be down shortly," you replied, glancing at Logan as he swayed gently, his daughter’s eyelids beginning to droop once more. "It seems someone is already ready for her nap, though."
Your mother’s gaze softened as she watched Logan rock the baby in his arms, a look of deep contentment on her face. "She’ll be a strong one," she said quietly, her voice laced with pride. "Just like her parents."
Logan met your eyes, a shared understanding passing between you as your mother slipped back out of the room. You rose from the chair, moving to stand beside him, and as you laid a hand on his arm, he turned slightly to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as though he couldn’t quite pull away.
"I think life has turned out better than either of us could have imagined," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.
You tilted your head up, your gaze finding his. "I think we made it that way," you said, a quiet pride in your voice. "Together."
The words hung in the air for a moment, a reminder of the path you had walked to get here—of the uncertainty, the struggles, and the slow, steady growth of love that had bloomed between you. You leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a tender kiss that spoke of more than just affection; it was a promise, a celebration, and an unspoken agreement that this—all of this—was just the beginning.
As you drew back, the baby stirred in Logan’s arms, letting out a tiny whimper that brought a smile to both of your faces. "Come on," he said, his voice soft and full of love. "Let’s go downstairs. Your family is waiting."
Together, you walked down the grand staircase, the sunlight streaming in through the windows, bathing the manor in a warm, golden light. The sound of familiar voices drifted up from the dining room, filling the air with the cheerful bustle of family life.
As you reached the bottom of the stairs, your daughter nestled safely in her father’s arms, you couldn’t help but feel that this life—so full of love, laughter, and even its small imperfections—was exactly where you were meant to be.
#logan howlett#wolverine#logan howlett x you#x men logan#x men wolverine#logan x reader#james logan howlett#lord james logan howlett#logan howlett angst#slight angst#regency#hugh jackman#angst#forced marriage#james howlett#brooding#angst and feels#angst and tragedy#angst and fluff#hugh jackson#ao3 fanfic#fanfic#bridgerton inspired#kate and leopold#wolverine x reader#angst with a happy ending#oneshot#logan howlett fic#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett fanfiction
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Kinktober Day 31 ~ Costume
Logan Howlett x Fem! Reader
Summary: Logan really likes your costume.
A/N: We started Kinktober with Logan and we're ending it with him. Happy Halloween and I hope you all enjoy!
Prev *✧・゚:
Kinktober '24 Masterlist
“What…is that?”
You look down at yourself, a little confused. “What? It's my costume.”
Logan focused on the tight, black leather suit you were wearing. The collar popping out along your neck. A zipper in the front of your cleavage. With yellow accents along it that really reminding him of his early X-Men days. “Wade told me you wore something like this when you first started. And I wanted to match with you…”
He motioned to his yellow and blue suit, “Sweetheart, I didn't even try.”
“Yeah, I know.” You shook your head. Logan would feel some type of way at your disdain, but he’s too focused on your suit. How it filled out your body very well.
“Just ignore pumpkin.” Wade commented, admiring you while dressed in his suit. Paired with a pink tutu and a tiara. “I think you look fantastic. Perhaps identical to our grumpy fella.”
“Aww, thanks.”
Logan grumbled, “Let’s just go.”
All of you were going to a Halloween costume party at a bar. Everyone dressed in various costume, drinking drinks that were half priced. Logan’s kind of scene, besides the goofy costumes. You were obviously excited, mingling with everyone at the party. Everyone complimenting on your costume. You pulling out your fake blades and impersonating your best Wolverine stance.
If it was anyone else, he’d think it was fucking corny. But this was you, his lover.
Who looked so damn good in that suit. Your curves highlighted for him to see. Well, not just him. Logan noticed others in the bar checking you out, eyes going up and down at your figure. Now, going to this party was a mistake. As always, you wanted him to behave, not start any fights that involved you taking cover somewhere. Good thing he had a handle on his strength. Otherwise the beer bottle in his hand would’ve shattered.
“I think this costume is too tight…” You sighed, snuggling beside him. “I can barely pull the zipper up past my chest.”
Logan felt the bottle crack. “Really? You’re usually good about your sizes.”
“I am. I told Wade what size to get when he said he was going to order it for me.”
“…you let Wade order your suit?”
“Yeah? He offered. He said he was getting Vanessa’s fairy costume at the same place-oh my god.” Suddenly, you got shy, your face buried in his neck. Logan’s arm around your waist got tighter as he comforted you. “No wonder some people were staring at me.”
He scowled at said patrons who immediately pretended to go back to conversing. “It’s okay, sugar. This is just a reminder to watch that asshole when you ask him things.”
You shrugged and Logan grimaced. He wasn’t a fan of you getting like this, having a sense that everyone was watching you.
“Hey,” He made you look up at him, “did I tell you how fucking sexy you look in that costume?”
You clicked your teeth, “No, you didn’t.”
“Well, you do. I wanted to rip that off of you and say fuck this party.” Logan admired your outfit once more, squeezing your side. “Actually, I still do.”
You lean forward, your eyes lowered as you scan his body. “Is that so?”
“You know it.”
“The party will keep going for a few more hours…” Your hands trail from his forearm, up to his bicep. “And Wade drove…”
Logan growled, pulled you close. “Just say where.”
You two did your best to disappear from the party, going to the backseat of the rental car. Your lips immediately on Logan’s before he could close the door. The kiss hot, heavy as you two tried to pull off each other’s costumes. Or at least enough to get to the important parts.
When you zip down your suit, the zipper stopping at your stomach, Logan went directly to your breasts held up by your bra. He had enough for him to mouth at your chest. Him kissing along the cups of your black bra while you grinded against his crotch. The tent in his suit prominent.
You clutched the ends of his mask while he gripped your thighs, squeezing them to increase the pace of your hips. His own matching the rhythm of yours. Your breaths mixing as your tongues collided once more, tasting hints of the drinks you two had. Logan didn’t give a damn if the car was shaking from your movements.
“Fuck me…” He felt cum leaking from his tip, “You gonna make me cum if you…”
Your mouth pressed along his once more, clearly not caring. Not when his covered cock was rubbing along your suit, managing to hit your clothed clit. Logan groans in your mouth as he can smell you, the grip on your thighs getting strong.
“Keep going…just like that…” You’re practically bouncing on him, starting to get incoherent. You don’t even care when he pulls down your bra cups, latching on to your nipple, pinching the other. He smirked when you cry out. The motion of your hips get sloppy, grinding along his cock to keep hitting that spot.
Logan knows your pussy was soaking your pretty panties. He didn’t get a chance to see them while you two were getting dressed, but he bets they match the cute bra you have on. The one he’s ruining to get more access to your skin. He’s so tempted to cut them off, but you don’t like when he cuts off your clothes.
Instead he goes through your suit, feeling the warmth of your bare skin. Logan decided to reach down, going under your lacey underwear to feel your plump bottom. You gasp, reaching under his mask to grip the nape of his neck.
A corral of moans and groaning fill the car. The friction of your covered pussy along his suit made Logan’s cock throb. Your moans increase in pitch, head thrown back when you shout to the car roof. Your body tense and trembling against him. He shuddered, not stopping his grinding as he was close. Logan’s muscles tensed when he orgasms, holding you close while cum stained his boxers.
He wanted to come inside you, but the night wasn’t over yet. He’ll save that when he has you in his bed. You give him one last kiss, pulling down his mask to dishevel his hair.
“You know, they’re gonna know we fooled around in the car.”
You move on to his face, leaving little kisses. “It’s Halloween. They’ll be fine.”
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@fandomfics @freythecrazyfae @maddyperezzzsstuff
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@howlingco @cherrypieyourface @snails-doodles22
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@golden-ebony @ethanhoewke @marit332
@smokeywhalee
#kinktober#kinktober 2024#logan howlett x reader#wolverine x reader#logan howlett x you#wolverine x you#logan howlett x black reader#wolverine x black reader#x reader#x black reader#wolverine smut#logan howlett smut#logan howlett#wolverine#cookie's kinktober 2024
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"you are my witch"
lilia calderu x reader • pure smut • 3.2k w/c
summary: you've been friends with lilia calderu for years. drunken from the poison of wine, you confess your love for the woman. although reluctant to admit her feelings, because she harbors a secret you don't know, you learn that lilia feels the same way. years of yearning come to an end, and you find yourself falling into your desires, unable to control what has been kept away for so long.
taglist: @setsuna1415 @honeypiperpizza123 @valarmorghuli @allseingeye @im-a-carnivorous-plant @worstendingever @ramblininsomnia @wandamaximoff-simp @mrsines @onlyv4use @kenzie-floops @screamsin-gay @numenamortenia @valkyrierain @babythere @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu @astrophilliaxx @giona45-5 @evilregal2002 @crescendoofstars @yourbasicqueerie @primalnight @darkangelchronicles @sapphic-girlss @thegoddamnfeels @doctormaviatorres @i-hate-most-insects @brisgayshit97 @iheartmilfzzsposts @redrouge7e7as @novavala @finnza @wandringlightsaber @romanoffsho @kingpreciouswrld @emilyprentitss @elobv10 @wandasreallover @kaypastore38 @thegayassbit-ch @marinalunaestrella @gryffindor-forlife @lorrainemylove @anais-casablanca @girlwithissuesworld @ofgoldandbraid @justgaygirlthings @beachhausu @deathly777 @confuseuniverse @eepyvampy @whyilovewomen @r-3-becca @roksana6448 @bugcolector @etw12 @heartsfromelle @zyguard118 @thelesbianapollokid4 @opossum-in-disguise @snoopyaah @amberwhale @marisacoulterswife @ionlylikefictionalpeople @derry-n @evie-101 @ganyulover123
author's note: so first i'd like to just THANK all of you for blowing up my post asking for who'd like to be tagged, because the taglist isn't even done, i can't fit them all in the blog. also, i tagged you if you liked or reblogged the tag ask post, because i bolded i would tag those who liked or reblogged. second; i'm sorry this isn't a longer fic. it was originally planned to be, but i don't want to use my idea i came up with in a one chapter fic, i'd like it to be used in a longer more meaningful one. i really hope you enjoy this. if you have any positive, negative, or general feedback, please let me know! i want to become the best author i can be for you guys. also, i'd love to receive any asks for fanfiction or one shots! i'm currently focused on my big multi character x reader fic, but im 100% open to and willing to write for your requests.
content includes: fingering, oral stimulation, biting, praise, hair pulling, pet name usage
you noticed the difference in her eyes like it was bolded in bright red ink. her smile fell, like an angel to descend from heaven. 'this is it' you thought, 'she’ll hate me.' you turned away in shame, your heart dropped. words flooded out, stupid, careless words. "i love you, lilia."
you couldn't bear to look, you feared the disagreement would show on her face. your body tenses, and you scrunch the bridge of your nose with your fingers. you expect her to tell you to get out, or leave.. but you hear nothing.
but you feel, oh, you feel.
you feel her behind you, closer than when you had muttered those stupid, damning words. her fingers gently traced your neck, and you closed your eyes, the yearning in your soul up to its brink of expression. each breath you take is shaky, is heavy. you tilt your head aside, desperate to feel her warmth on your skin forever.
you open your eyes when you feel her breath on your neck. she must've noticed your body's reaction, because she paused, and remained still. lilia traces her fingers down your body, to your hips. she stops here, her lips close to your ears, as her body presses into your back.
you lean into her, your head slightly leaning back, at the pure and utter pleasure you feel being so close to her. her lips part, and with such composure, yet so little solidity, she delivers a line that would come to send shivers down your spine. "i have loved you since i saw you the first time, long ago. i am consumed and rattled by you at every waking second.." her hands pull you in, and you hum at the gesture. your eyes are closed, not because you hate this, or don't want to be there, but because the way you long for her in this moment now is too painful for you to bear. a lump forms in your throat when you feel her wet cheek graze your neck. she was in tears, and you needed to console her; but how? how should you console her now? you did not have much time to think. her lips, warm, soft, and gentle, were on your neck. the kiss she blessed your skin with felt like one that existed prior to the world, and forever past the present. it was torture, it was devastation, when she pulled away. it hurt, it was brutal.. so brutal, your lips parted, and you gasped quietly. your hand reached back for her head, and you enveloped your fingers in the curly, silver locks of her hair. you held her head close to yours, as her thumbs rubbed gently upon your hips. her voice broke as she completed her confession, and your heart broke with it; you'd do anything to protect her, to keep her from harm. "i'm a witch, y/n.. how could you ever love a witch?"
your eyes opened, and you stopped breathing, for just a moment. you were sure you'd heard wrong. with a furrowed brow, and a worrisome expression, you broke away from her touch, from her hold. you turned to her, and your head tilted to the side, as tears began to form in your waterline. the sight of her, so weak, so doubtful of herself, so ashamed.. your heart shattered like a broken mirror.
her face was lined with streaks of wet. she had cried for this, she suffered for it. she couldn't even look at you, her eyes were avert.
your hands raced to cup her cheeks, and you gently wipe away her tears. her lips part, in astonishment, followed by her eyes meeting your gaze. finally, you saw those beautiful eyes again. your heart skipped a thousand beats at the sight of those irises. you smile, and your face softens. "lilia.." you whisper, your forehead pressed against hers now, "i've loved you since the sun rose opposite the moon. i've chased you in all of my wildest dreams. i've loved you in every moment and i would not stop because of what you are or are not." at your notation, her lips fold into a smile. she grabs your wrists softly, holding them. once more you spoke, "you are my witch, my little piece of divinity. you are mine, and my heart is yours." you watch as her eyes move from your eyes to your lips, and you wish for nothing but her to kiss you.
after all these years, of being her "friend", you have never wanted anything more than for her to kiss you. it's like an insatiable hunger you cannot destroy.
lilia bites her lip, and she grabs your chin with her pointer finger and her thumb. you start to breath heavy, and your heart begins to race. she brings your face to hers, so close that your lips graze against one another’s. you ache for her, you long for her. you need to taste her, to merge your body, your soul, your heart, with hers. you need her to kiss you.
and she does. her lips mesh with yours in perfect harmony, like the melody of heaven’s sea. your mind is adrift, clouded. you cannot form a thought, you do not desire to form a thought. her unaccompanied hand caresses the small of your back, and you pull her closer with the hands you hold on her face.
she slips her tongue along your bottom lip, and you moan softly into the kiss. her grip on your chin releases, and she holds your jaw instead. she guides you through the long, heart-felt kisses. her lips control your body, your mind.
warmth builds between your thighs, and your head is still covered by nothing but a blanket of emptiness. lilia is the first to pull away, her lack of oxygen in her lungs being the culprit. you curse the living necessity of air.
you yourself breathe heavy, panting almost. lilia’s lipstick is smudged, and you smirk at the notion that you've just kissed this marvel of a woman. she notices your cocky smile, and a single eyebrow lifts. she now wore a smirk herself.
“you're looking at me like you've just seen me naked, y/n.” you chuckle when she says this. “while i wouldn't be opposed to that, i'm just a little satisfied with the fact that in the midst of kissing me, you forgot about your lipstick.”
her smirk faded and her lips parted again, she pop looked offended, but you could tell it was just her beautiful sense of sarcasm.
“fix it for me?” she asked this with a lower tone and a wink, and you felt your core throb at the sound of her voice. she wanted you to kiss her again.
you ran your tongue across your bottom lip, and you couldn't help your smile. her hands guided your face close, and you pushed a curl behind her ear. she grew desperate, unable to wait. her lips caught yours, and you shut your eyes at the contact. in your head you pictured her eyes, beautiful and brown, like the rock embedded and shaded on the side of a mountain. your grip on her hair tightened as she pushed you back softly, making sure not to break the kiss. her lips were soft, so soft it felt like the comfort a pillow brings in the hour of sleep. you moan as your lower back makes contact with her counter, and your head leans back, which breaks the embrace.
the wetness between your thighs grows, and you figure your underwear must be utterly ruined. lilia's fingers stroked your hair, and she shook her head slightly, a whisper following shortly. "let me taste you.. every inch of you.." you bite your lip, and hold her gaze, nodding hesitantly; even though you don't feel hesitant on your answer at all. her smirk returns, and her hands descend, down from your hair to your neck. she drags them further down, past your shoulders. she stops at where the unbuttoned cardigan opens, pushing the material off of your arms and body. her warmth intoxicates you when her skin brushes against yours. she plants hot kisses on your upper arms, which are exposed because of the camisole top you wore.
her hands found the straps to your shirt, and she pulled them down slowly, kissing the empty place they used to cover. you tense, and your eyes shut as your lips purse together while you try to conceal the soft hum of pleasure you make.
lilia's fingers pull away the top, leaving you completely naked and exposed from your waist up. she smiles at the sight, her hands cupping your breasts. you feel the slick between your legs, it seems the inner part of your thighs had gotten soaked by extension.
her thumbs grazed over your nipples, and the sensation was enough to drive you wild. you pulled her head into the curve of your neck, your lips parted as soft moans escaped. she chuckles and her lips start to kiss your neck.
your knees go weak, simply from the ecstasy her lips brings you. her thumbs lose the feel of your sensitive buds, and she begins to creep down your throat. she leaves sloppy kisses down your collarbone, and down to your nipples. her eyes close as she takes one into her mouth, suckling on the sweet spot. your eyes fall back, and you inhale, biting down onto your lip to stop yourself from being loud. her fingers play with your lone nipple, and you feel as though you will not be able to take much more of this before becoming pathetic for her.
the witch releases your areola from her mouth and takes in the other, her tongue lapping around the bundle of nerves. her hands trace the curves of your body. they pause when she's reached your hips, and she digs her nails into your skin. the pain blends with the pleasure beautifully, and it's as if they are interchangeable.
you breathe heavily, your stomach twitching when she starts to drag her lips down your stomach. your pussy was so wet that she could smell the scent of arousal from your waistline. her fingers pulled up the black skirt you wore, and it revealed your soaked nude panties. she chuckled, looking up at you with eyes that were darkened and overwhelmed with lust. she bit her lip and furrowed her brow, which made you roll your eyes.
“you're so wet, darling. i could just devour you.” you gently pull her hair, forcing her head back a little. she smirks, and you pout. “please, i need you” you say, pleading for her tongue, for her fingers, for her to be the one to shape you into a mess of a woman.
she winks, bringing her mouth to your inner thigh. she leaves kisses along your skin, and it seems as though she’s teasing you. her eyes stay locked onto yours with each touch of her lips, she wants to see your face as she tortures you.
your hands release her hair, and grab onto the counter behind you, your nails scratch the surface with each new touch. her eyes look so dark, and it turns you on even more.
but your view of them is gone as she bites into your other thigh. her teeth are sharp, and your jaw drops, you whimper. her teeth release, and she kisses the bite mark. you open your eyes to see it, to see the mark she had left. it was dark red, and your expression changed, you felt your core throb uncontrollably, and you grabbed her head by her hair, guiding her to your cunt. your eyes pleaded with her.
lilia opened her mouth and licked the wet slick on your panties, all while looking you dead in the eyes. the touch was faint, but it was all your body needed to jerk up. it was so cruel, the way she left you needy and desperate for her. you couldn't think beyond her tongue on your clit, or her fingers buried in your warm folds.
she bit the material of your under garment, pulling it slowly down your legs. her eyes were stolen away by the sight of you completely naked and in front of her, soaked, ruined. you were such a slut for her. you wonder if she would tease you about how soiled you got for her later down the line.
the witch sighed, and her lips kissed the very inside of your thighs, right beside where you writhed for her. you thought you might faint.
using your hand, you rubbed her cheek, shaking your head at the sight of her, down on her knees, ready to please you.
she turned her face, kissing your gentle fingers. you smiled, and you took a deep breath as she brought her face as close as possible to your core. her eyes were focused on your face, you could tell she wanted to watch your face as she ate you out. so typical of her.
her face buried between your legs, her tongue circling your clit. your hands shot behind you to the counter once more, desperate to hold yourself up. your eyes closed, and your back arched. the moan that echoed through the room was inevitable. she took her time, finding the nerves that were more sensitive and paying more attention to them. you thought she must've found you stupid to be so wet and needy for her.
her tongue sped up, and she took your clit into her mouth, suckling the bud. you couldn't control the way your hips bucked, or the way your knees fell wobbly and weak. her hands grabbed your hips to stabilize her, and she pulled her mouth away in a flash.
you were worrisome, you thought maybe you'd messed up, or maybe she'd realized she didn't want you like this. it was almost heartbreaking to feel her pull away.
she had never stopped looking at you, though. you of course couldn't tell because your eyes had closed before out of the extremity of what you were feeling.
she looked serious, determined, but her eyes were still as dark as before. you blush at the sight of her face covered in your taste, your slick. her mouth opened, and you heard every word with such a heavy impact. “do not close your eyes again. i want to see your eyes, your face, at every moment. do you understand?”
your heart starts to race again, there was just something so inexplicable about the way her words made you feel. you nod your head, scared that if you spoke your words would be jumbled. she didn't accept it though, her voice changed, from demanding to mischievous. “you understand..? what do you understand, dear? how does it make you feel..? tell me how i make you feel.”
you bite your lip, looking up at the ceiling. maybe you were throwing up a prayer that you wouldn't mess up, or maybe you were just trying to prepare yourself for what she wanted from you. her right hand slipped from your hip, and you didn't notice, so fixated on her request. you went to start speaking, but as you did, you felt her fingers inside of you.
your head leaned back, and you closed your eyes. a hushed “fuck!”, was followed by a loud humming. she smirked, “what did i say about closing your eyes, baby?”
you forced them open, forced them to lock their gaze down onto her own. you wanted to make her happy. you needed to please her just as badly as you needed her to make you cum.
“i'm sorry, darling—” as you began again, her fingers started to pump inside of your pussy, and your mouth lay agape. she didn't stop, even as you took a moment to continue, and you took a deep breath.
“you want me to look— oh, fuck.. god.” it was like she went faster with each word you spoke. you took note of her devilish grin, thinking that you'd someday get your revenge. “you want me to look at you, you want to see me when— shit!” your body flinches as she curls her digits inside you, her speed still gradually increasing. “come on, princess, you're doing so good” she whispered this against your clit, right before sucking it into her mouth again.
you bit your lip and your hands pulled her by the hair, just giving you something to hold onto. “when i cum for you, when i'm just a puddle for you.. you want to see me when i take your fingers!”
the words came out shaky, spaced between your moans and whimpers. her fingers started to go as fast as they could, and lilia lapped her tongue around your wet clit, stimulating every single part of your cunt. she was still looking at you. you held her gaze as you started to tremble, your body shaking as it came to the brink of an orgasm.
you finished your thought, giving her what she asked of you. “it makes me feel like abandoning everything for you, to have you like this, every second, every moment.”
her eyes closed, and you watched her remain between your thighs. your body hit a climax, and your hips bucked up, your back arching. you yelled for her, her name. your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you bit your lip to muffle any further sounds as she fucked you through your orgasm.
when you had came, your white fluid casing over her fingers, she pulled her mouth away from your clitoris.
you, with your head still fuzzy, had managed to pull her back up to you by her hair. her lips were so wet because of you. you immediately pull her in to kiss you, tasting yourself on her tongue and lips. she pulled away, breaking the contact. her teeth captured your bottom lip and you sighed when she pulled it back.
lilia’s lips started kissing your neck, and she brought them to your ear, whispering hushedly, “clean your pretty little mess, my love.”
you whimper, and you open your lips, as she slips her two cum-covered fingers inside of your mouth. you suck off your fluid, and the growing wetness between your legs returns.
the older witch laughs, kissing your neck again. her lips find yours once more, and she kisses you like there is no other action in this world. her tongue invades your mouth, as she tastes the sweetness that remains.
#agatha all along#agatha harkness#agathario#rio vidal#agatha x rio#agatha harkness x rio vidal#rio vidal x agatha harkness#rio x agatha#agatha coven of chaos#aubrey plaza#vidarkness#aaa episode 8#aaa episode 9#aaa spoilers#aaa fanfic#agatha fanfic#lilia calderu x reader#lilia x reader#lilia calderu#patti lupone#witchcraft#witch x reader#character x reader#fem!reader#afab reader#smut#lesbian smut#wlw smut#wlw ns/fw#pure smut
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Happens to the Best of Us - Part 4
Bucky x Y/N
Y/N took the test. Who’s gonna check it?
Note: I feel bad for the last part…kinda. (@mayafatimakhan)
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Warnings: Possible pregnancy.
Time slowed as you and Bucky stood frozen, eyes locked on the small, plastic test lying on the counter between you.
The soft glow of the bathroom light highlighted his steady gaze, filled with unwavering support and gentle reassurance. For all his calm, though, you could feel the way his fingers trembled ever so slightly as they held yours, the weight of your collective hopes and fears pressing down on both of you.
Seconds stretched into eternity, each one pulsing with a nervous anticipation that filled the small space around you. You swallowed hard, barely daring to breathe. There was a strong chance that Bucky Barnes got you pregnant …
Your heartbeat echoed in your ears, loud and unsteady, almost drowning out the soft click of the timer on your phone counting down to the result.
Bucky squeezed your hand gently, his thumb stroking over your knuckles. “You good, sweetheart?”
You gave him a shaky smile, nodding even as you felt your knees weaken. “Just…a little nervous.” Your laugh was tight, your voice barely above a whisper.
Bucky’s eyes softened, and he brought your joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your knuckles. “Whatever happens, I’m right here, Doll. We’ll figure it out together.”
The warmth of his words wrapped around you, settling your anxious heart, if only just. You let out a slow breath, resting your head briefly against his shoulder, savoring the moment. As much as this was terrifying, it was also exciting, a moment you’d both dreamed of, even if it had seemed so far away not so long ago.
“You know we can’t just stare at it all night, Kitten?” he asked, his voice soft but steady, his expression a mix of excitement and trepidation.
“I know.”
“Want me to check?”
“No. Yes... Maybe…” You took a deep, calming breath, closing your eyes briefly before looking at him with a determined nod. “Yes. Go ahead.”
With a final squeeze of your hand, Bucky picked up the test, his face unreadable as he stared at the small screen.
The silence was thick, each heartbeat feeling like a lifetime, and you watched his face with bated breath, trying to glean anything from his expression. His brows knit together, and he tilted his head, squinting at the tiny symbols.
A long moment passed before he finally spoke, his voice hesitant and slightly confused. “Uh…I don’t know what this means, Doll…”
Your heart stuttered, and you blinked, feeling your breath hitch. “What? Am I knocked up or not?”
Bucky held the test closer to his face, his lips pressing into a thin line as he scrutinized it. “I don’t know! What does two blue stripes mean?” His bewildered expression was enough to break through your anxiety, a giggle escaping your lips despite yourself.
“Bucky, that means…that I’m pregnant.” The words left you breathlessly, the enormity of them hanging in the air between you.
Bucky’s eyes widened, the dawning realization transforming his face from confusion to awe. “You’re…we…we’re having a baby?” His voice was barely more than a whisper, his blue eyes shining as he looked at you, a flicker of joy lighting up his face.
You nodded, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you laughed, the sound giddy and full of wonder. “Yes, Bucky. We’re having a baby.”
Without a second’s hesitation, he pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in the warmth of his embrace and he was bouncing excitedly on his heels.
You felt him bury his face in your hair, his breath hitching against you as he held you tight, like he never wanted to let go. The two of you stood there, locked together in this perfect, fragile moment, neither of you daring to move.
Bucky pulled back slightly, his hands moving to cradle your face as he looked at you, his gaze filled with so much love it made your heart ache. His eyes shimmered, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “You’re really pregnant? I put a baby in you..?” he whispered, as if saying it aloud would make it more real.
You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks, and he brushed them away gently, his thumb lingering on your skin. “Yeah, Bucky. Guess you really do have strong swimmers...”
A quiet, joy-filled laugh bubbled up from him, and he pulled you close again, his arms wrapping around you with a fierce protectiveness that felt like a promise. You could feel the gentle, steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, grounding you, reminding you that this was real.
After a moment, Bucky’s hand drifted down, resting on your stomach with a reverence that brought a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you. “Hey there, little one,” he murmured softly, his voice a low, awestruck whisper. “It’s your dad.”
The words settled over you like a soft blanket, the reality of it sinking in. He was already looking at you with such pride, as if you’d done something extraordinary just by being here with him, by letting this miracle happen.
“Are you…happy?” you asked, voice thick with emotion, feeling the weight of his hand against your stomach, grounding you in this new, incredible reality.
Bucky’s answer was immediate. “Happy? I’m fucking- oh, Sorry. Small ears. I’m elated, Doll. I didn’t think I’d ever get to have something like this. Like you. I thought…” His voice trailed off, his expression tender, a vulnerability there that made your heart swell. “I never thought I’d be lucky enough to get a family.”
You reached up, cupping his face and pressing a soft kiss to his lips, pouring every unspoken word into the touch. “You deserve this, Bucky. You deserve every bit of happiness.”
He smiled against your lips, his gaze warm and overflowing with affection. “Guess we’re gonna be parents, huh?”
A bubble of laughter burst from you, and he joined in, the sound filling the bathroom, echoing in the tiny space and making it feel larger, warmer, like it held all the love in the world. He pulled you close again, resting his forehead against yours, both of you breathing in the joy of the moment.
After a few minutes, Bucky pulled back slightly, his expression shifting to a playful grin. “So…when can we go shopping?”
You blinked, laughing softly at the eagerness in his voice. “Already thinking about shopping? I haven’t even had a chance to process this.”
He shrugged, looking a little sheepish but still grinning. “Well, we gotta be prepared, right? Besides…” He placed a hand over your stomach again, his eyes shining with adoration. “I want our little one to have everything.”
Your heart melted at the words, and you leaned into him, feeling a deep, grounding sense of love and security. “Alright, but only if you promise we can take things slow. I think we have plenty of time.”
He grinned, a light in his eyes you hadn’t seen in ages. “Deal, Doll. But I’m not waiting too long—I’m already imagining them in a little Captain America onesie.” He chuckled, and you rolled your eyes, smiling as you let yourself get lost in his joy.
…………………………….………………………………………………..…………….………..
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run baby run {lads x reader}
Surely monsters of myths and folklore don't exist, do they...?
|| CHERUBFAE'S HALLOWEEN SPECIAL 2024 ||
tags: nsfw, smut, fem!reader, implied!plus sized reader (as a treat), Wanderer!Sylus, siren!Rafayel, werewolf!Zayne, kitsune!Xavier, predator/prey dynamics, breeding, ruts, monster fucking, porn with some plot, almost drowning (raf's)
a/n: this got away from me a little bit. I've been writing longer fics pretty much non-stop over these last two days and I'm in need of a little break once Halloween is over. I decided to try to take on too much with not much time before Halloween. it may not be the most cohesive, but I hope you can enjoy it! last fic is tomorrow!
Zayne
No, no, no, no. This wasn't right. This wasn't... He was supposed to be helping people. Not... Hazel-green eyes stared down at the lupine reflection, his face, along the river's surface; his maw dripping with warm, crimson blood. He let out a shuddering, mournful scream. But in this form, it echoed as a fierce howl. All he could do was run and run and run.
Zayne ran as fast as he could, massive paws thundering through the soft dirt. Something sweet and inviting calls to his hypersensitive nose, making him still and sniff again. Instantly, he takes off in the direction of the scent, quietly approaching a river. His eyes narrowed, like a vicious beast glinting in the shadows, as he neared your barely covered form as you bathed. The sight of you, his mate, was enough to calm his inner turmoil. He became weightless, his eyes fluttering as he lays his sight on you. His everything.
"It's dangerous to be out here in such a state and alone no less." He feels a slight sadistic satisfaction at your jolt, relaxing when you realize its him. His eyes follow the movement of your breasts, raking over the swell of them and how your nipples poke through the gaps of your fingers. "A beast might try to come stake his claim over you..." Zayne shifted back, his human form naked, skin stretched taught over fine muscle. His cock, heavy and long, throbbed between two powerful legs. "Why do you look at me so lovingly when you know what I have become?"
"Because it is still you, Zayne. The goodness in your heart. You are not the wolf that takes over." You stand, removing your shift and baring yourself to him once more. "No matter what form you take, I will love you always."
Zayne loosed a shuddering breath and he's hovering over you in an instant. There would be time to think of the consequences to his actions later. For now, while he still remained free, he needed you. He needed you more than the sun loves the moon. His mouth hot against your lips, swiftly picking you up and raking his hands possessively down your backside; gripping handfuls of your supple rear in his large palms.
"How lucky of a creature I am to have such a devoted and loyal mate." Zayne murmurs, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear. "I must worship you properly, hmm?"
Laying you down on the soft grass, Zayne enters you slowly. His cock, long and thick, stretches you out in the best of ways, hitting spots you could never reach with your fingers. Every inch of him is warm and throbbing, his hips rutting into you, his teeth gently nipping along your throat. "If you keep moaning so loudly, darling, others are gonna try to come and take you from me." Zayne silences you with a kiss, sliding his fingers down to caress your nub. "Better keep quiet then, hmm? Unless you want the whole of Linkon to know you're being bred by a werewolf?"
Zayne snarls as his hips pound at your ass, reaching an arm under you to pin you to him, your legs dangling off the ground slightly. "That's it, love... Take everything I'm giving you. Take it all..."
Rafayel
The water is cold, and your body is heavy. Your legs that had been rapidly kicking and treading water, slowed as your muscles burned with overexertion. The salty water made it hard to see. You doubted your crew mates cared you went overboard, left to be food for the sirens and whatever else lingered in the dark waters. Faintly, you heard the hauntingly beautiful singing; the song felt sad. The same that had accidentally sent you over, eager to hear it better you neared too close to the edge of the ship.
You were so tired; you weren't sure if you had it in you anymore. As you drift like a weightless cipher, your mind fading to the back, barely recognizing two strong, warm arms tugging you through the stormy, twisting tidal waves.
"Are you with me?" Fingers snap near your ear as you come to. Blinking at the low light, you faintly make out the blurred shape of a topless male hovering over you. "You were bleeding. I've staunched the wound. I thought humans were supposed to be at the top of the food chain. Why were you swimming during the start of a tsunami?"
Tsunami?! Your head snapped up, instincts kicking in to take shelter. Then you realized. You were already under the water. You were breathing under the water. Turning to look at your savior, it was then you realized the blue and magenta scales of a long tail laying lazily behind him. He scoffs, rolling his eyes with annoyance.
"Great. Just great. A human girl ruining my brooding time. Better be grateful I saved you. I won't do that for just anyone." The purple-haired male crossed his arms over his chest. He had interesting markings and jewels and scales marking his upper body and his face. "My name is Rafayel. Are you done staring or are you so stunned by my beauty? You look like a guppy with your mouth opening and closing like that." He gripped your cheeks, squeezing them together until your lips puckered out. Rafayel frowned. "You have a fever. Wait here, I'll gather ingredients for a salve."
You could only watch wide-eyed and weak as Rafayel beautifully dived into the small wave pool, his tail fins waving as he disappeared into the depths.
Over the next few weeks, Rafayel nurses you back to full health. You've grown immensely fond of this sassy merman. He was unlike anyone you ever met and it was clear he enjoyed the attention. Today, he was teaching you about Lemurians and how they differed from humans.
"These scales are beautiful. Especially with how they catch the sunlight." You admire, running your hand over the shimmering scales of his tail, feeling the strong muscle flexing beneath your palm. Leaning back in the warm sand, you and Rafayel rest your lower halves in the gentle waves.
Rafayel swallowed thickly. "I'm glad you like them..." His eyes widen as your hands curiously wander down his tail, getting too close to his slit. He catches your hand before you can touch him, making you jump. "That's a dangerous place to touch. You are only allowed to touch me there. No one else, little human." You met his eyes, drifting back to the opening, noting how clear slick began to drip from the slight opening. Then, it clicked where you were touching.
Emboldened, you look at him. "May I?" Rafayel looked like he was going to pass out and it wasn't from heatstroke. He nodded, his body like jelly as he guides your hand to his slit, gasping as you tenderly caress his puffy lips, coaxing forth two ridged pale purple cocks, dripping with precum the color of moonstone. Nearly the same color as his hair, his twin tips were pink, fading into a dark purple at the base.
"Well then, won't you thank me properly for saving your life?" His hand curled over the back of your neck and guided you down to his waiting, leaky cocks; both begging desperately for your attention. "Gods, I have never believed in Heaven but your mouth just may be it..."
Xavier
"Oof!.. What?" You look down to see what you tripped on, eyes widening as you take in the sight of several bushy grey-blond foxlike tails splayed beneath you. Reaching down to touch you them, you gasp as a clawed hand grips your wrist tight.
A sleepy voice grumbled behind you, an arm circles your waist and tugged you back into a warm chest. "You disturbed my sleep... That's rude." In a swirl of magic, Xavier pulled you onto his lap, his chest pressing to your back.
Twin grey ears twitch atop Xavier's head, the point of a fang peeks out from beneath his top lip as he stares unimpressed. "And it's rude to stare. Doesn't my star know any manners?" Xavier growled, leaning close to nip at your lips.
His warm, wide tongue flattens over your pulse point, licking a stripe up your skin. "It's been a while since I've been graced by a scent so sweet... I have never had the chance to act upon it. Will you indulge me, sweet maiden?" Xavier bowed his head over your shoulder, his fangs pricking your skin.
His hot cock slides between your clothed folds, soaking your underwear in his sticky pre. Your dress bunched together in his clawed grasp. Xavier makes no attempts to enter, just happy sliding himself against the thin cotton of your underwear, seemingly content with cumming over them instead of inside. He yanks your underwear taught, moaning as his wet head slipped against the rough fabric. Your panties practically translucent from your combined juices. Bucking your hips, you whine for more. "Oh, are you in a rush? We have all night, don't we? Why so eager to rush to the finale-- are you that desperate to have me fill you with my kits?"
Sylus
All you could see were two glowing red eyes within the shadowy tree line. They were impossibly high off the ground, meaning the creature who owned those eyes had to be at least seven to eight feet tall. A tremoring growl echoed as the creature breaches the darkness and towers over you, sniffing at the air.
"What a bold little rabbit to trample into the lion's den so willingly-- and during his rut no less." The beast-man circles you, large horns protruding from his head and curl backwards. Great, black wings are furled at his back. His skin is two-toned, half pale white and half-sleek and black as night. You couldn't quite tell what he was, too much like a chimera, his most dominant features resembled the visages of a crow and a dragon.
"Cheeky, cheeky..." He stepped fully into the light of the full moon. His form was massive and his horns only added to his already imposing height and build. Sylus circles you like cornered prey, his cock heavy and pulsating between his thighs. Lowering himself down to his knees, he tilts your chin up. "Tell me, sweetie. Have you ever been with an untamed beast like me?"
The grass was soft beneath your fingertips, curling them into the dirt as Sylus ruts into you with fervor. His heavy balls smack against your ass, one large, clawed hand covers yours, threading your fingers together. He took you like a lover; reverently, worshipping, like he never wanted to leave.
"If you want to scream for me, go ahead and scream. Let the whole forest know how good I make you feel. From this day forward, I will court you as my mate. You will never want for nothing again, sweetie."
|| please don't repost, reuse, or edit my works in any way! I do not give permission. Tumblr is the only site where I post. All characters belong to their rightful owner and the story belongs to me © CHERUBFAE 2024 ||
#love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace x you#love and deepspace smut#zayne x reader#xavier x reader#rafayel x reader#sylus smut#cherubfae 2024#cherubfae's halloween special 2024
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Hi!! I've been obsess with your works
Now, hear me out because your poll stroke an idea in me 👀👀
How about: Argentine!Reader x Oscar Piastri, and starts teaching him spanish so he can understand Franco's Interviews
Thank you!!
Ooooh yes yes yes!!! Here it is and I hope you like it 💌 thank you for your requests and support! I really appreciate it mwak mwak 😙 (sorry it’s a bit late but better late than never!)
——————————————————————————————
“Indirectas Directas” | OP81
Part 1 -> “Made in Argentina: The Series” (Oscar’s Version)
Parings: Oscar Piastri x Argentine!Reader.
Summary: you and Oscar have known each other since your best friend Franco Colapinto started competing in F3. You always had a crush on the Australian pilot. You have been friends for a while now but the friendship got closer since Franco got in F1 and you can see each other every race weekend. The butterflies starts for both of you. Do you really just wanna be friends? You teaching him “piropos” from your country may have subliminal messages.
Now playing: “IMÁN (Two of Us)” by Maria Becerra.
Word count: +1.2k.
Warnings: a few curse words. Pure fluff. Not a native English speaker so there could be (so many) errors. Not proofread.
Author’s note: alrightyyyyy I hope this is good! And I really recommend Maria! I love herrrr my queen!! I did my best with the piropos jajaja Don’t forget to like or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)
MASTERLIST
“Hola, todo bien?” Oscar said carefully and weirdly remembering what you taught him a few seconds ago. You nodded proud of his Spanish.
“Todo bien, ¿qué contas?” You said in your Argentine accent making him open his eyes wildly panicking. He loved your voice in Spanish; it was slightly higher pitched than in English. In English you have a deeper voice for some reason. Of course he asked about it and you explained it may be because of the pronunciation of the words. It's really so different from one language to the other.
“What the hell did you ask?” He said giggling a little, making you laugh too.
“I asked you what’s up” you explained and wrote down that phrase in the little notebook he brought with a pen. All mc claren branded.
The friendship between you two has become closer with each race. You were good friends before but not that close. It was something either of you couldn’t explain. Like your bodies were driven directly to one another unconsciously. You didn’t want to think too much about it. You didn’t want to overthink it.
His face was like ‘oh yeah right it makes sense’. He smiled at your handwriting so rounded and legible. Unlike his. His was a little messy.
“Yo estoy carrera hoy” he tried to answer it without asking how to. You laughed and he blushed. “This is embarrassing, it's really hard to connect the words” he said shyly and you found it so cute.
“It was close though don’t feel bad. Spanish it’s super complicated for non-Latin language speakers. We have like 20 tenses and shit. It’s a mess” you explained to cheer him up. He loved the fact you knew so much about languages because you also knew how to talk Portuguese and Italian pretty perfectly in his opinion. He has heard you even trying to speak French with Pierre last weekend. He was impressed.
“Yeah I get it now” he said grinning. “Must be nice to flirt in Spanish like I don’t know like you automatically sound sexier and more interesting” he said, making you laugh. “No really like I heard Carlos talking to an interviewer the other day and I think I am in love actually” he said, making you laugh even more. He loved making you laugh. Your laugh was like a drug to him. You looked way too cute doing so.
“Well I don’t know actually but in Argentina we have some top level flirting like really great phrases. Let me teach you some. Wait I’ll look for some on google so I can help myself remember” you said excited about it because you knew it was gonna be bizarre and funny at best.
“Phrases? Like roses are red and that kind of stuff?” He asked curiously and you nodded looking at your phone.
He couldn’t help but get distracted by the way you looked. Like every other race weekend you were wearing one of the million Argentina tees you have in your wardrobe. Your skin was glowing because of the sunscreen making your freckles stand out even more. You dyed your hair blond a few weeks ago and it looked incredible on you. He wouldn’t have expected that change but it looked so good on you. Anyway, he was convinced that anything you do to your hair will always look good always. Because you were beautiful. And he thought that was dangerous. You’re supposed to be friends right? And he knows Franco will kill him if he finds out he likes you. But he couldn’t help it. You were so interesting to him. You went everywhere with your mate and sang a lot of football songs he didn’t understand but you looked so happy singing them with Franco. Like he was captivated by your foreign beauty. So different from Australia or Europe or even the United States. You were loud and always laughing. Your bright smile always makes everyone so happy. All of the boys loved you. You were the life of every party. And you also knew so much about formula 1 it was impressive. Then you told him you were studying for an engineering degree and everything made sense. You loved the sport. And you were the proud friend. He loved that you were so passionate about everything. Even now that you have this teacher and student dynamic, you take it so seriously. He loved it. And he liked it even more because he knew that you were a teacher back in your country. And he could see how much you love to teach and you were actually really good at it.
“Alright I found the first one!” You said already laughing. “Okay ready?” He nodded, smiling, waiting for your magic voice to pronounce the weirdest shit but sound amazing.
“Mi amor, quien fuera cemento para sostener ese monumento” you said and started laughing because his face was a poem.
“What the hell?” He said laughing as well. “What does it mean? It really sounded terrible, " he said dramatically.
“It means: my love, who could be cement to hold that monument” he bursted out laughing.
“What? I don’t know if it’s geniuous or rude to be honest” he said sincerely making you laugh.
“Oh my god that was so cringe I love it” you said looking for another one.
“Don’t even try to make me pronounce that last one please” he warned you funny. You denied with your head.
“Okay I found another one listen: tu con tantas curvas y yo sin frenos. Try to translate it” you said because there were words you already taught him.
“Oh my god alright. Repeat it please?” You repeated it and he thought for a few seconds.
“Uh tu curvas y yo frenos?” He said confused. You giggled a little but applauded proudly.
“Yes! You're getting better Oscky” you said sweetly. “It was: you with so many corners and I have no brakes” you said, smiling funny.
“Oh like the curves of the body right?” You nodded at his questions. “Oh alright I get it! So is like double meaning”
“Exactly” you answered. “Alright last one: besar es el lenguaje del amor, te importaría comenzar una conversación conmigo?” You said blushing. Your subconscious chose this one without leaving you a warning.
“You said something with kiss right?” He asked and you nodded. He blushed too. You were like two teenagers blushing and giggling.
“I said: kissing it’s the language of love. Would you mind starting a conversation?” You explained.
“You wanna kiss me?” His words slipped through his lips.
“Maybe I do” your words slipped through your lips.
You were both so red. An awkward silence made its presence.
“Oscar, sorry to interrupt but Zac is calling us both. Hey y/n, you good darling?” Lando appeared out of nowhere so save yourselves from the worst silence situation you’ve ever been into. Lando hugged you kissing your cheek and you smiled at him. Oscar took his things ready to go.
“All good Land. Hope you have a good reunion. See you after the practices!” You said waving to him. And Oscar gave you a cheeky smile.
Holy shit you’re fucked.
#my work!🧉#f1 x reader#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 x you#f1 x female reader#f1 fanfic#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#op81 x reader#op81 imagine#op81 fic#op81
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“𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌” - 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 + 𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭
+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘
𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝙹𝙹 𝚡 𝙼𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚘!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛
𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐂𝐍𝐂, 𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩 𝐒𝐞𝐱, 𝐄𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞, 𝐑𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐤
10K
𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓽𝓸𝓫𝓮𝓻 𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓴 𝓯𝓲𝓿𝓮
⚠️ warnings contain spoilers ⚠️
situationship, kissing, swearing, graphic violence, mentions of blood, gore, bullying, teasing, mutual intoxication during a sex act, ownership kink, pet names, drug usage, drinking, blood, knife play, choking, oral male receiving, threesome m/m/f, rough sex, talking about the reader like she's not there, blood licking, finger sucking, hand kink, mask kink, stalking, gaslighting, physical violence, the reader wants them both, dark Rafe, dark reader, dark JJ, unprotected sex with multiple people, dvp, rough sex, oral female receiving, using objects during sex, cum tasting, squirting, creampie, anal play, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, size kink, ignoring a safe word, breath play, hair pulling, bondage, impact play, degradation, dirty talk, praise, pussy slapping
Reader’s POV:
“Okay, so, what is an antagonist?” The boy leans back in his seat, crossing his big arms over his broad chest, his white t-shirt strained. He stares you down, hoping you’ll crack and give him the answer. “M’not telling you, Rafe,” you correct him before he can even ask with a light laugh and a smile that has him returning the same.
“C’mon, pretty. Got no clue what’s goin’ on. I learn better this way,” he croons.
“You learn better by me telling you the answer?” You ask weakly, to which he shrugs and smiles. “This one. I’ll tell you this one. You’re making me think I’m doing a bad job, Cameron,” you add in exhaustion as you spin the cap off your water bottle, staring back at him tiredly.
“A bad job?” He asks in disbelief, eyebrows tugging together as a little scowl pulls on his pretty lips. “M’just givin’ you shit.”
“You’re not-“
”The character who opposes the main character in a work of literature,” he recalls the flashcard word-for-word, making your jaw slack in delight and irritation. His tongue pokes through his smile as he looks back at you playfully. “Best tutor I’ve ever had, princess.”
You feel your cheeks warm up; you take a quick sip of water to guise your smile. You were trying to do your best to stay focused on your session, but he just made it so hard. Rafe Cameron was a distraction, and he knew it, too. It’s hard to ignore his lingering gaze; how he leaned in a little too close when asking a question. His rich cologne muddled your thoughts. Rafe’s raspy, deep voice makes it almost impossible to get your words out confidently.
He’s so damn charming, and you know better than to encourage him, but sometimes the temptation is too strong. You clear your throat, pinching your eyes shut, cutting off his deep, dark stare cold turkey. He chuckles airly, clearly aware of his effects on you, though you’d never admit it.
“Thank you,” you respond with a smile as you straighten out the deck of neon flashcards. “Alright, next we have protagonist.” Rafe tries to bait you again with a look that has your mind spinning. “Enough,” you scold annoyedly.
He lifts his hands in surrender as he leans closer, resting his big forearms on the table. His gold chain falls out of his shirt, glinting in the library light. Your eyes follow the slight space between his cotton v-neck and burly chest. “Ya know, y/n. JJ is a lucky-”
“Am I interrupting somethin’?” JJ chirps, with a teasing edge in his ask, stopping Rafe before he can finish. The blonde leans down, wrapping his large arm around you, pressing a rough kiss against your cheek, earning a giggle and smile. Rafe rolls his eyes at the exchange between you, making JJ laugh teasingly. “Envy does not look good on you, brother.”
Rafe lifts his eyebrows, huffing out a laugh. “Bullshit, buddy. I look good in everything,” Rafe gloats. “All’s I was gonna say is how lucky you are.”
JJ gives him a taunting smile as he crashes down in the seat next to you, wrapping his arm around the back of your chair, looking back at his frat brother with a challenging gaze. “Right. You can keep remindin’ her, Rafe. I’m no Casanova, but keepin’ my name on your lips when you’re talkin’ to my girl isn’t going to get you anywhere,” JJ mocks. “Thought you had game?” Rafe balls up his notebook paper, tossing it at JJ hard and fast, nailing him in the forehead.
“I do,” Rafe answers confidently as his cerulean stare shifts from JJ’s to yours. Your stomach falls at Rafe’s words, slight guilt trickling in as he speaks nothing but the truth. JJ scoffs and laughs, kicking his boots on the seat beside Rafe.
”Yo, where’s Alexis?” JJ asks. You glance around the library, looking for her. I mean, she’s chronically late, but she would always send me a text or something.
”I don’t know,” you breathe as you lean over, snagging your phone off the table.
Alexis: Volleyball practice went late. Sorry.
Your ears perk up as you hear an announcement break over the intercom, catching everyone’s attention. “Attention students, faculty, and library staff. All classes have been canceled for the remainder of the day. Please stay calm and follow the campus safety procedures by filtering out of the nearest exit.”
You look out onto the crowded library, watching students look around, sharing hushed conversations about what’s happening that would cancel school altogether. You glance outside onto the dark campus parking lot, cop cars gathered by the masses, red and blue gleaming lights flickering in the night.
The backdoors of the ambulance swing open as a group of first responders race toward the vehicle with a covered gurney; an unmistakable shape underneath. You walk closer to the glass, squinting your eyes, trying to get a better look. Blood pools on the sheet, spreading like a wash of watercolor paint at the victim's stomach. The interior lights of the ambulance hit the sufferers face, all the blood leaving your own as you see Alexis.
You sit on the couch, drawing your coffee up to your lips, feeling the cup tremble in your hand. You swallow the bitter liquid fast, trying to ease your pounding head. It was a long night… The two of you up, following the story as it unfolded on TV, seeing that beautiful, friendly face plastered across the screen.
You were too wrapped up in thought to sleep; too consumed with the picture that would be forever etched in your mind as you watched her get hauled away only to die on the ambulance ride there. Alexis didn’t stand a chance: strangled, blunt force trauma, stabbed thirteen times, left to bleed out in the bathroom ‘til a teammate found her.
JJ sits next to you, your eyes glued on the TV as they show the suspected killer for the nth time. You always expect to see some blurry-faced man, maybe a deranged teen, but what you didn’t expect when an image of the suspect first dropped was a familiar white mask.
The news anchor’s voice drones on about another brutal killing in the night at a movie theater downtown, leaving the entire city on edge. “Yet another Ghostface killing,” she adds to her colleague, going on to talk about the same twisted methods he used to kill, all of which you remember from watching the movies. You had a visualization of the crime scene without an actual pictures— mental polaroids snapped with each new detail. You glance at JJ, who’s oddly unbothered, letting the new story play on like he’s listening to some mundane podcast.
The house is bustling: boys walking in and out of the messy estate, spent beer cans, and littered pizza boxes left over from the night before. None of them look fazed, everything seemingly unchanged like there weren’t people being murdered around town, with a crazed, masked killer on the loose.
Chills run down your spine as you watch the CCTV footage of a large figure in a cloak and a mask exiting the bathroom after killing Alexis before fading into blackness. It looked like a movie. One that you've watched on this very screen. Whoever this killer is, he’s real. He’s out there. JJ grabs the remote control, letting out an irked whine as the story continues, pointing it at the TV. “JJ!” You chide through a sharp whisper.
He looks over at you, cocking an eyebrow. “We already watched this, sunshine. Same shit on the hour,” he grumbles. “Nothin’ new, baby. Let’s watch The Office or somethin’.” He turns the channel, snuggling his big body into you more.
You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. Shit… The knot in your stomach tightens. You take a sip of coffee, trying to act normal, but nothing is ordinary. What if something happened? You dig in your pocket, pulling out your phone, catching a message from Rafe.
Rafe: No tutor session today please. It’s Halloween. God damn. Can you cut me some slack for one fucking day princess?
You roll your eyes, biting back a smile. He’s so annoying. You didn’t have anything scheduled with him anyway; JJ’s frat brother, just looking for a reason to drop you a line. JJ looks over your shoulder, reading the message before picking the phone off your hands. “Goddamn, baby. You got this man pussy whipped, and he hasn’t even gotten his dick wet,” he knocks as his lips meet your neck, kissing and biting at your skin. JJ reaches over your shoulder double-tapping the message, giving it a like. You shake your head and smile as you see Rafe instantly replying.
Rafe: Maybank stop bein a bitch
JJ: It’s y/n
Rafe: bullshit. Send me a pic, then?
JJ lifts his shirt, snapping a picture of his toned chest. He chuckles wickedly as he hits send.
Rafe: no. your girl’s got better tits than that
JJ scrunches his nose in disgust, looking down at the message like he’s trying to translate it. “Your girl’s got better tits. Fuckin’ asshole,” he mutters as he passes the phone back to you. You chuckle lightly, trying to slow your movements, but you’re desperate to see if there are any news updates. Your palms sweat, mind nagging with thought as you grow physically impatient. What’s wrong with me? These are real people dying, but even still, there’s this wavering excitement I can’t shake. It’s fuckin’ sick. I'm fuckin’ sick. And I know it.
A grainy clip plays on your phone screen as you browse the local news app— the crime scene from last night. You take another sip of coffee, following the chain of events, catching the irony: a Scream marathon playing at the AMC theater, the stabbing happening during Scream Two. The killer probably waited until the midnight showing of the Stab scene to take out the poor girl in real-time. Two slayed: the boyfriend in the bathroom and the girlfriend in the theater. You read the article carefully, taking in the differences of location: life taken in the back of the theater versus the front… She probably went out silently versus screaming out in terror. I mean, the person next to her didn’t even know she was dead until the end credits rolled.
“Baby girl…” JJ hums as he looks over, catching you looking a little too distracted. You hide your phone slightly, looking up into his beautiful blue eyes.
“Mhmm…” He stares down at you, giving you a knowing glance. His eyebrow arches, reading you like a book. “What’s up?” You ask as you drop your focus, looking down at your coffee like it’s the most interesting thing you've ever seen before taking another sip. His gaze hasn’t left you; you can still feel it burning into the side of your head.
“Baby…” He tries again.
You look up at him, hoping he’ll drop it, knowing he won’t. “Hmm…”
JJ quirks his pretty pink lips, leaning back into the couch a little to get a better look at your guilty face. “Really?” He mocks, his voice low and laced with amusement. “You gettin’ off on this or what?”
”What?” You gasp.
“What?” He echoes your soft tone impishly, with just enough sting to remind you of the reality you're skirting around. “You know what.”
You roll your eyes, feeling the heat of shame creep up your neck, pooling in your cheeks. “Stop.”
”Stop what?” He asks with a toothy grin, totally relishing in razzing you.
“It’s so bad, Jay…” You admit sheepishly as you tip your head back, relaxing it on the back of the couch. “Ya know?” You return your eyes to him, the man meeting your focus with a sideways glance.
“People are out there dyin’,” he ridicules you. The corners of his lips fight back a taunting smile, a slight glimmer in his eye, finding pleasure in humiliating you; he knows you’re not heartless. “This ain’t like those podcasts you watch, baby. And I know you like a good slasher fic, but come on…”
“Can you stop,” you whisper, feeling bad enough about it already.
“M’sorry, mama. Just givin’ you shit,” he grins. “You’re so pretty when you pout.” JJ leans in, pressing on your bottom lip, dragging it down slightly before leaning in for a gentle kiss. “I’ll stop.”
You fiddle with your pen, trying to focus as your professor continues, but your mind is miles away. You peek around the large lecture hall, looking at the gathering of students sizing up each. It might be someone from campus… Someone in this room right now. Someone I might know.
Stop.
There are thousands of people in this town and on this campus alone. The likelihood that I’ll know him directly is slim to none. Or her? I should be paying attention. I have a test in two days.
BUZZ.
Your phone vibrates in your book bag, making you jump, your nerves clearly on edge.
JJ: What do you want from Cash Wise?
Shit. You look up from the glow of your phone, spinning yourself up further. There’s supposed to be a party later tonight— a Halloween party at the frat. It’s still on, or JJ wouldn’t ask what I want from the liquor store. Right? Maybe we’ll have a chill night in. Who am I kidding… Those boys don’t give a flying fuck about the curfew, and neither does anyone else.
In a few short hours, liquor would be pounded, loud music would be flooding street after street downtown, parties raging, and people would forget all about what was lurking outside—what horrors walk amongst them.
If this is genuinely a copycat killer, there’s no way he’s skipping Halloween night… Maybe I should stay back at my apartment. Fake sick and watch the news. It’s not like I’m going to stop a serial killer…
But what if it’s someone I know? What if it is one of the guys I see daily at the frat house? JJ and I are casual. As much as I like him, there’s no way he’ll miss out on a Halloween party for me, if I’m being brutally honest. Sure, he might roll by the house at 3 AM, blackout drunk to cozy up in my bed, but he’s not stayin’ in and watchin’ the local news… What if something happens to him?
I’m just spiraling… Maybe there is no pattern. Maybe the killer is done. Some psycho with a vendetta against Alexis and the two other students at the theater. The three could be connected… I don’t know. It doesn’t fucking matter. There’s no way he’s done. I can lie to myself all I’d like. Tonight, people are gonna die, it's just a matter of how many.
There was no getting anything past JJ. He knew you weren't feeling sick. He knew you didn’t want to stay back for any other reason than to stand by and wait for the next story to drop. There was no way the boys were gonna let you skip either; they were gonna get you here one way or another.
If you didn't know better, you’d have no clue a masked man was terrorizing your city. Not here anyway… The energy in the room is infectious; laughter, music, and weed smoke fill the air. It’s just a fraction of the frat’s usual guest. Soon, this party’ll be wall-to-wall. JJ smiles at you, casually draping his muscular arm over your shoulders. A small, smug smile plays on his pink lips as he looks at his frat brother across the way. JJ’s ringed hand dips between your thighs, mouth pulled to your neck like a magnet, flaunting you in front of Rafe. “Fuckin’ shameless about it. Isn’t he?” JJ mumbles against the heat of your neck as he pokes fun at Rafe. He steals glances at you between his conversations with Kelce and Top, as he always does, his eyes lingering a little long taking in every inch of bare skin he's never seen before, studying the detail of your little Britney Spears costume.
Rafe finally makes his way over, sitting on your opposite side, making your heart beat faster. His pretty blue eyes twinkle as you match his gaze, the burly brunette giving you a panty-dropping smile. “I was a little worried there for a minute when you said you weren’t comin’,” he mumbles, recalling the texts from earlier as his eyes fall to your lips, watching a bashful smile form on yours. “I’m glad you could make it, princess.”
JJ chuckles, tightening his arm around you. “Don’t flatter yourself, man. She came for me,” he scoffs playfully.
”You look beautiful, y/n,” Rafe praises ignoring the blonde. JJ lifts his hand from your shoulder, thumping Rafe in the head.
“You’re testin’ me, Cameron. Stop tryin’ to steal my girl.”
Rafe smirks, leaning closer to you with a mischievous smile. “Can’t blame me for tryin’.” His eyes lift, matching yours; lips mere inches away. You can feel the warmth of Rafe’s breathing against your lips giving you the butterflies.
JJ reaches over, resting three plastic shot glasses on the coffee table before running them each so full of vodka that they spill over. “Oh, fuck,” he chuckles, already buzzing. He lifts the bottle to his lips, taking a swig. The clear liquid dribbles down his chin, landing on his orange shirt. His baby blue eyes match yours, giving you a playful wink. You feel your heart race a little faster as your eyes fall on his body: his costume hugging his athletic frame just right. His beachy, blonde locks are perfectly undone, his neck littered with fake tattoos.
Rafe’s hand rests on your thigh, just like JJ did, testing the waters, seeing how far he can get too, squeezing your bare leg. He moves a little closer, catching your eyes lingering a little too long on JJ, craving some of that attention for himself. His hand drifts a little lower, playing with the hem of your thigh-high stockings. You look back at Rafe: his beige locks brushed back off his face, just a little messy, letting his fridge fall casually on his forehead with a sailor’s hat sitting on the top. He snags his shot off the countertop, kicking his Noble loafers on the coffee table. He smirks as he reclines beside you, his velvet smoking jacket unintentionally pulling wider on his exposed chest. You look away fast, trying to hide your surprise as Rafe’s black satin pajama pants leave nothing to the imagination, letting you see the silhouette of what he’s hiding underneath.
“Fuck!” Rafe recoils as JJ flicks his fingers, snapping him right on the dick, making Rafe hiss out a pained breath.
“Stop bein’ such a slut, Cameron. Jesus fuck,” JJ snickers, nabbing Rafe shot off his hands as well, drowning it fast before Rafe can protest; the man still trying his best to catch his breath. You roll your eyes and shake your head, moving your shot glass over for Rafe before pouring another for yourself.
Rafe reaches over the back of you, punching JJ in the arm, making him grunt in pain, too. “Bitch,” Rafe clips.
“What are you supposed to be anyway?”
“Hugh Hefner, dumb fuck. N’aren’t you supposed to dress up? Seems like somethin’ you just pulled out of your closet.” Rafe plucks at the shoulder of JJ’s inmate costume. “That come with the Maybank starter pack or what?”
“Fuck you-”
“Fuck you.”
“Can we just drink?” You ask through a laugh, plucking both of their glasses off the table before passing them off and grabbing your own.
"You know, Cameron. It’s a dangerous game flirtin’ with someone else's girl,” JJ slurs as he lifts his glass slightly for a toast.
“Dangerous. Huh?” Rafe chuckles, lifting his glass as well. “What are you going to do about it, Maybank? Huh? Kill me?”
JJ smiles, rolling around Rafe’s words in his crooked mind, letting his question hang in the air momentarily. “Cheers.”
JJ smiles at you from across the room, and at that moment, everything disappears. The music, the thick crowd, the bumping of the bass pouring from the speakers all fades away. His lust-dazed eyes are locked on your body, studying how you move from across the room. Your hands shift as you dance with your friends, teasing him with the hem of your pleated skirt, your body feeling absolutely electric under his gaze.
You spin, pigtails turning with you, cinched at the bottom with baby pink puffs. You're not sure how many shots you've swallowed at this point… A few mixed drinks and a colorful pink pill from Rafe's pocket later, and your buzzed head is heavy, floating somewhere between tipsy and completely gone. You shut your eyes, moving your hips to the beat in your chest, feeling your body shifting slower than before. The room turns as you glance at your friend, laughing dizzily, too gone to care.
Fuck. Your heart skips a beat, then races away as you see a flash of white in the corner of your eye. You fumble slightly over your heels, clutching your friend for support as you catch a tall figure in a Ghostface mask. Wet liquid splashes up from the foundation, wetting your ankles and feet as you drop your drink.
You slam your eyes shut, trying to calm down, feeling yourself sobering up fast. This is the longest I’ve gone without thinking about any of this. It could just be a costume… Of course, it could be. It’s Halloween… That’s been a popular movie since the 90’s. “Can you hear me?” Your friend screams over the noise, catching your attention, jarring you back to reality. “I said ‘are you alright’?”
“Mhmm…” You nod and smile as you start to move again.
You look around a little more, feeling your paranoia mount by the moment. Why that mask? Here? In this city after everything happened? It’s probably just some frat boy thinking it would be funny to dress up as the killer. Or, he could have already had the costume. It could have been a coincidence that he hadn't thought twice about since, too desensitized to even see the problem…
How could someone be so careless? I mean, we all are. Aren’t we? All of us were out when the university told us to stay in. All of us were wasted when the police said that going out tonight would be a bad fuckin’ idea. But what if they aren’t being careless? What if the person under that mask is the reason why three people are dead?
The hair on the back of your neck stands straight, the music of the party seems to grow a little louder—too fucking loud, making it impossible to think straight. You survey the room again, trying to convince yourself it’s just some asshole, wordlessly praying you’ll catch a college kid with his mask pulled back, sucking face with some sorority sweetheart.
Your pulse spikes as you lock eyes with him again, the Ghostfaced figure even closer than before. He’s standing there, perfectly still, unlike the people moving around him, making him seem even more out of place. He’s just staring… Lifeless. You yelp as you fall, this time missing your friends completely, as you're shoved to the floor. You stand up fast, head swiveling, watching as a tall figure pushes through the dense crowd.
Your look down at your hands caked in dirt and sticky with spilled liquor. Your unease settles in the pit of your stomach like a weight. There’s two? You look forward, catching your footing again, feeling your heart jump as the original figure from across the room’s gone. Your skin prickles with goosebumps as your thoughts get the better of you. “Fuck!” You gasp as you feel a hand wrap around your arm, pulling you back fast. You spin around, heart hammering in your chest, half expecting to see the masked man before you. “Jay,” you snivel.
“Hey, you okay?” He asks as he steps a little closer, seeing the concern in your eyes.
“Uh - Uh, yeah. I’m fine,” you assure as you look over your shoulder, watching one of JJ’s frat brothers pull a girl in for a kiss as she holds his Ghostface mask up for him. Breathe… The scene you painted to offer you some semblance of relief plays out before you. Relief washes over you like a wave. Holy shit.
“Baby?” JJ tries again as he grips your shoulders tightly, trying to ground you. Your heart pounds in your ears, competing with the deep bass radiating through the packed frat house.
“Yeah, J. I’m fine.” You force a smile. “I thought—“ You start to speak, but the words get caught in the lump still lingering in your throat. “I need to use the bathroom. I fell… My hands are covered in shit.”
“I’ll be right here. All right?”
You weave through the crowd, knees and ankles wobbling from your wicked cocktail of drunkenness and fear. You clench your fists, trying to steady yourself in the moment, kicking yourself for letting your guard down like you did. Wishing you could rewrite the night to have your wits about you as planned.
As you reach the staircase, you tug your phone out of your pocket, checking the time. It’s past 2 AM already. If you were right, and the Ghostface killer was going to take advantage of the night, he would have struck by now. You climb the stairs fast, heart pounding, lungs burning; senses amplified in the moment. You claw onto the wooden railing for support, finding yourself completely unsteady in your sky-high heels, looking down at each step to avoid missing one.
BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.
You rummage for your phone again, pulling out the device only to see an unknown number. You slide your sticky finger across the screen, accepting the call as you sink to sit down on the stairs, gripping onto the handrail for backing.
“Hello?” You ask shakily.
“Hello, y/n…” Your eyes double in horror, as a familiar voice fills your ears. Ghostface.
“Who… Who is this?”
“Oh, come on. You don’t recognize me? You don't know this voice? Bet you've gotten off to it. Why are you being so shy?” He taunts you in that smug tone you've heard a million times over.
“This isn’t funny. Alright?”
“Funny? You think I’m jokin’? I’m closer than you think. Matter of fact. I can see you right now, y/n.” You suck in a quick breath, holding it in as you look around fast, quickly calling his bluff.
“Bullshit.”
“I’ve been watching you all night. Little skirt, heels, pigtails…” his voice menaces on, fading into the crowd behind him, that same song you hear echoing in the playback of the phone. He’s here.
“Leave me alone.”
“Oh, I’m not goin’ anywhere, y/n. You're playin’ the role you've always wanted!”
“I’m not scared of you.”
“BULLSHIT,” he spits with a wicked laugh. “You better lock that bathroom door. I’d hate for someone to come in and GUT YOU LIKE A FISH! Will you hurry the fuck up?” His last line comes out in a familiar tone, pulling out the rug from underneath you.
“JJ WHAT THE HELL?” You hiss, listening as he thanks his frat brother for letting him use his voice changer.
“Relax, Jesus.”
“That wasn’t funny!” You shout as you pull yourself to your feet again.
“C’mon, sugar. It was hilarious. M’just havin’ a little fun. Aight? Calm down. When you’re done freakin’ out, get your pretty ass back downstairs and party with me,” he lays on the fratccent heavy, irritating you further.
“M’mad at you,” you mumble as you scale the rest of the stairs.
“It’s Halloween, everyone's entitled to one good scare.”
“Shit!” Your breath catches in your throat as you slam straight into someone’s chest. You stumble back slightly, eyes wide as you teeter on the top of the stairs. Rafe’s large arms wrap around your waist, catching you before you can fall back.
“Hey. Hey, princess. Fuck. You alright?” He asks breathlessly. You nod quickly as he pulls you closer, leading you to a safer spot, his beautiful eyes gentle with concern.
“I - I…” You stammer. “M’just a little jumpy,” your words ramble together, shaky and weak. “I’m fine.” He looks down at you, cocking his eyebrow, not believing a word of it. You feel embarrassment creep in as you notice he’s with someone else, too.
“Whatever you say, princess,” he respires, smiling as he nods, giving you the benefit of the doubt. “Have a great night.” Rafe wraps his arm around the stunning brunette's waist, guiding her down the stairs, leaving you alone at the top. You shove JJ’s door open, walking into the dark room, closing it softly behind you. Everything calms down; all of the sounds around you are truly quiet, the low roar of the party only bleeds through the bottom of the door, playing like white noise in the background.
You walk over to JJ’s nightstand, snatching the remote, flicking on the TV before walking to the foot of his bed, turning to the local news. The station casts shadows across the dark room and walls. There’s nothing new to report but reruns of the earlier findings… The reporters go on, focusing more on the lives of the victims versus the profile of the killer; the investigation seemingly at a standstill. The harsh reality quickly crushes the relief that you felt. If your gut feeling is correct, this isn’t over… It just hasn’t happened yet.
You roll onto your stomach, sinking into JJ’s bed, pulling out your phone, checking the rest of your sources. The music from the party outside becomes a little more noticeable, leaving you lifting your phone, pressing the speaker against your ear to hear the officers on the other end of the scanner. You snag JJ’s earbuds off his bedside table, pushing them in your ears, hearing the sound a little clearer.
Nothing… Nothing out of the norm as the two officers bitch about breaking up some college function uptown. All of this makes the situation more unnerving… The calm before the storm. A sudden jolt of terror surges through you as you’re yanked back to the edge of the bed, screaming in horror, quickly forced to your back, frozen in fear as you look up at two Ghostfaced figures looming above you. A scream bursts through your lips out of instinct, your body fighting its way back to the headboard. But it’s no use. A large hand comes to your throat, squeezing you tight, pinning you to the mattress, cutting off your airflow.
“Please, just-” You sputter and plead through trembling lips, reaching for a breath. They stand there ominously as you struggle, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. You glance toward the door, trying to shriek, but nothing comes out but a hoarse cry. One of them leans closer, his knife glinting in the low lighting. No. No. No. He lifts the blade, holding it to your neck. Your eyes pinch shut in fear, knowing if you move, you’ll get cut by the edge.
“Heard you’re into this shit, y/n? Is that true?” A mechanical voice comes out through the mask, dripping with mockery. You suck in a breath as you feel the cold blade of another knife slide across your hot skin between your button-up and skirt. Your body tenses up as the blade works higher and higher up your body, clicking along the metal hooks and eyes of your lingerie.
“Stop!” You plead as tears well in your eyes. “Please, leave me alone.” One of them chuckles deeply, the timbre of his voice making you sick with fear. “What do you want?” The second Ghostface leans down, making you hold your breath as you wait for your answer.
“We wanna make you scream.”
Your stomach churns, twisting at their words. He leans closer, the chilled plastic mask brushing against your skin. The familiar cologne has your eyes doubling in horror. “JJ?” His name flees your lips before you can even stop it. Your mind starts to race as you try to rationalize the situation. Is it him? Is JJ the killer? Or is it all part of some twisted game?
“Surprise,” he hisses distortedly, coming out like nails on a chalkboard.
“JJ, please! This isn’t funny!” You cry out, still unsure if this is reality or fantasy. “JJ STOP!” You sob, choking on your tears, and your chest heaves, emotion spilling down your cheeks onto the mattress below. “JJ don't kill me. Please. P-Please.”
“Baby… Baby… Hey. Calm down. Okay,” he breaks character, making you gasp for a breath.
“What the fuck!” You sob.
He leans down, wrapping his big body in yours. “Shh-Shh… M’sorry. Okay. I thought you’d like it, y/n. Took it a little too far. All right? I’m sorry,” he whispers before pulling his mask back, letting you see his handsome, guilty face. Your bottom lip trembles as you look back up at him, scared shitless, your adrenaline and heart surging like you just took a bump. Your body, riding a vicious high. “I'm mean. I'm so fucking mean. That wasn’t right. Forgive me?” He asks through a breathy laugh as he peppers kisses along your tear-soaked cheek. You smack your hands against his chest in frustration, pushing him away but he crushes you under the weight of his big body, looking down at you with a smile that you could never stay mad at. “C’mon, princess…”
“Fine.”
“Atta girl,” he mumbles as he buries himself in your neck, giving you a big hug.
“What were you thinking?” You sniffle.
“What was I thinkin’? My girl’s a fuckin’ freak… Why not give her what I know she wants? You should be thankin’ me.”
“Thanking you? You scared the hell outta me,” you huff.
“That, pretty girl, was the plan. Now, will you let us have a little fun with you, mama? Or, are you gonna keep poutin’?” You look up at JJ, the fear that was gripping you moments before fading away into something different. Your heart’s still racing—fear exchanged for pure, unadulterated desire. JJ lowers the knife, tracing it up your thigh slowly. He takes the flat end, making you draw breath as he slides the cold blade against your soaked panties, pulling it up to check the mess. You see a hint of your arousal glistening on the blade already. “Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.” He tuts, twirling it between his fingers. “Fuck you’re a slut... Tongue,” he orders. You submit to him as you lay out your tongue, looking up at him through your lashes. JJ sets the smooth side of the blade against your tongue, sliding it slowly, letting you taste yourself. Your pussy throbs, surprising yourself with how much you desire this blend of fear and passion.
You focus on the other Ghostface in the room, haunting above. His sheer size— that undeniable swagger even with a cloak and mask on. “Rafe?” He nods.
“You think I was going to turn down this? You know how much fun it is to scare you, baby?” He asks in a wicked tone that has your thighs drawing together with want. “Think we all know how bad I want you…” The big frat boy confesses behind the mask still drawn over his handsome face.
“You okay with Rafe bein’ here too,” JJ asks, his dark, deep voice vibrating against the shell of your ear.
“Mhmm…” You hum as you lean into him a little more.
“Words, baby.”
“Yes, Jay,” you respond as you grab JJ’s mask off the crown of his blonde mess of hair, kissing him on the lips before pulling it down over his face and making him laugh.
“You gonna let me fuck you, princess?” Rafe asks, and you swear you can hear the smirk on his lips. He tears off the black cape, stripping off his cigar jacket. You study Rafe’s flawless body, his muscular chest, and chiseled abs. A Ghostface mask, black satin pants, and some white Calvin Klein’s boxers are all that remains.
“Well…” You answer hesitantly, wanting to say ‘yes,’ but you and JJ honestly hadn’t talked about it before; you only talked about being casual. Why else would Rafe be here if it wasn't alright with JJ?
“Wouldn’t be a scream fantasy if there weren’t two dicks, now would it?” JJ answers Rafe on your behalf, knowing you were hoping that’s what he would do, as he strips off his cape, too. He snaps open his inmate uniform, popping each of the buttons open nice and slow, exposing more and more skin, leaving you throbbing.
“Guess you’re right,” you whisper in a mesmerized state.
“Mhmm, doll. You want his cock and mine? Don’t worry, I won’t be mad. I’ve always wanted to see how much my girl can take. Just say it.” Fuck. You let out a soft whine, realizing you’re not the only one living their fantasy.
“I want your cock and his. You - You can do whatever you want to me-”
“Anything?” JJ answers your babbling.
“I know the safe word, Jayj. Bet you can’t make me say it,” you taunt, surprising yourself with your words. The mood shifts at your comment, the once playful banter turning dark in a second. That was a challenge he was more than willing to accept. The two laugh cruelly, looking down at you as their prey. JJ’s head tilts slightly. Before you can react, Rafe takes his knife, slicing through the little knot at your waist, cutting open your button-up shirt. JJ rests the cool metal against the heat of your stomach, swiftly snapping his wrist, cutting through your delicate lace bra, leaving you fully exposed on the mattress. You can hear Rafe moan behind the mask, finally getting the glimpse of you he’s always wanted to see.
“Look at you,” Rafe sighs, his voice dripping with desire. “So fuckin’ beautiful. Jesus. I was fuckin’ right. Wasn’t I?” Rafe speaks to you with the deep hunger of a man who’s been starved. You can tell as much as he can wait to ruin you with JJ he’d love to be the one to fulfill all your needs single-handedly, but he’ll settle for the second-best thing. “You’re really into this scary stuff, aren’t you?”
“Mmm… Mhmm… She is. She’s a fuckin’ freak,” JJ hums as he cuts you out of your skirt as well. “Just like me.” You gasp as Rafe wraps his big hand around your throat, your hands instantly drawing to his wrist as he drags you to your feet. He pulls back his mask with his other hand, bringing it back just enough to claim your lips in a passionate kiss.
Rafe kisses you deeply, taking your breath away, the type of urgency that drives you mad just knowing how bad he wants you and how worried he is that JJ would change his mind still. Rafe pulls away suddenly, leaving you panting for a breath. When you open your eyes again, his mask is in place. You gasp in surprise again as JJ’s big hand takes hold of your head from behind, pressing you down to your knees before you can even think straight.
Your heart starts to speed up as both boys reach for their pants. Rafe pinches the soft material in his rough fingers, tugging it down his muscular thighs as JJ works on his. The textiles all fall to puddles at their feet. You reach up, cupping both of their cocks through the tight cotton material of their boxers, making both boys release a hungry groan as you squeeze their big dicks in your slight hands, feeling yourself already soaking through your panties.
You help JJ out of his boxers with a smile before moving on to Rafe, doing the same. Wrapping your fingers around their cocks you watch as their heads fall back almost in synch, abs clenching tight with the first stroke, the both of them stepping a little closer, wanting your warm, wet mouth around them.
You look up at Rafe, your mouth falling open as you feel JJ's swollen tip press against your plush, parted lips. You tease his tip with a kitten lick, making him grab hold of your head, guiding his dick deep in your throat. You take care of Rafe with your hand, pleasing JJ with your mouth, and taste his salty precum glazing your tongue.
Rafe takes a similar hold on your head, pulling you off JJ’s cock, yanking you toward his. “Fuckin’ lick that shit,” Rafe hums. You look down at the slit on his tip, watching a mess of precum seeping out the blushed head of his cock. You flick your tongue across, swirling it for good measure. Rafe’s fat head rams into the back of your throat, making your eyes prick with tears. The wet rolls heavily down your cheeks. You get pulled off again, even rougher than before. JJ grabs both braids in his large, ringed hands, using your mouth like a toy.
“Mine,” Rafe hisses. “Don’t you know how to fuckin’ share?” JJ releases you with a cocky laugh; the two pass your head back and forth ‘til you are a cock drunk mess of tears and moans. Tears block your vision. You try your best to blink them away as you feel both men using your mouth at the same time, alternating between strokes, fighting for space as they see how far they can push you.
Your eyes double as Rafe’s large hand pinches your nose closed. You reach out, gripping their legs, squeezing tightly, and letting your nails dig into the thick thighs. “M’fuckkk,” JJ moans intensely, his muscles trembling under your grasp. Rafe pulls off your nose, leaving you open-mouthed and sputtering for a breath.
“Keep your mouth open, slut,” Rafe rasps, delivering a rough slap to your cheek. You brush your hands over your eyes, flattening your tongue as the boys stroke their long, thick cocks fiercely. Their moans and praise fill the room as cum spurts from their throbbing tips, painting your cheeks, tongue, and mouth as you try to recover from the lack of oxygen. JJ grabs the back of your head, fingers twisting in your braid, lifting your face to look up at the two of their masked faces. Rafe grabs your cheeks harshly as well, rubbing his rough thumb across your lips, catching the cum on his finger before stuffing it in your mouth. You suck on his digit, cleaning up the rest of the mess. “Atta baby. Fuckin’ cum slut aren't you?”
“Mhmm…” You moan around his thumb.
“Tell him what you are, princess,” JJ mumbles as he tugs your hair, making your back arch slightly, tits perking up.
“M’a cum slut, daddies.”
“Daddies,” Rafe drawls in a charmed tone, loving his new title as JJ tugs you to your feet. He keeps his hold on you, pinning your arms behind your back with one hand, using the other arm to wrap around your throat, turning you toward Rafe.
Tears still brim at your waterline from a mix of excitement and defenselessness, doing nothing but turning Rafe on more. Your emotion trails down your hot cheeks, catching your makeup as it runs in little rivers. Your heart races wildly as it has been for days; this time in the throws of a fantasy.
The air is charged with tension as Rafe walks closer, lifting his mask slightly to lick along the side of your neck before biting down hard, making you cry. His hand reaches up, slamming over your pillowy lips. “You better shut the fuck up, princess. Don't want the boys to think we’re doin’ anything but pleasin’ this whore pussy. Hmm? I'd hate to stop. Wouldn't you?” He asks, tearing your panties away in the same breath. Rafe reaches over to the mattress. You go to look, but JJ squeezes your neck, forcing you still.
“Where do you think you're goin’? Huh?” He laughs against your neck.
“Put her on the bed, pin her wrists, we got ourselves a squirmer,” Rafe mocks before slapping your wet cunt, making you do just that. You suck in a breath as JJ squeezes you firmly, tearing you back before shoving you down on the mattress face first. He snatches your body with his strong hands, manhandeling you to your back before mounting the bed. He clambers to the head, holding your wrists, yanking you higher, before tacking your wrists to the bed.
Rafe walks toward you slowly, twirling the dagger between his big fingers. You feel your body tremble with adrenaline—the cold blade presses against your skin, making you whine. Before you can think, he turns it slightly, nicking your skin, making a small cut just enough to sting. A weak cry escapes your soft lips, awakening something primal in you. You lift your head off the bed, watching the blood bead on the tiny wound. Rafe lifts his mask, lowering himself to your inner thigh, sucking gently, breaking you out in a cold sweat as pleasure mixes with pain.
"Fuck, you taste like heaven," he mumbles, still close to your skin. The warmth of his admission fanning across your skin.
“You should taste her pussy,” JJ rasps.
“Yeah, buddy. She got a sweet little cunt?” He asks like you're not even there.
“Fuckin’ perfect.”
His focus drops to yours, making your eyes widen. “N’I bet you want that pretty pussy ate. Don't you?” He asks as he draws the knife across JJ’s bed, the sharp tip facing down, scraping against the comforter, working higher and higher. You let out his name shakily as he pushes the flat edge against your pussy hard, even the slightest contact making you cry out. Rafe lifts the knife, running that same edge against his tongue before lowering himself on the mattress.
Rafe massages your inner thighs with his big hands, splaying you wide as JJ's rough hands trace down your body grabbing your tits, pressing them together for his frat brother. JJ slaps your breasts, making your thighs pull in; Rafe’s strong arms loop around your thighs, forcing you to stay still. “The fuck did I say, Maybank. She’s a goddamn squirmer. Move again, pretty. I dare you,” Rafe warns, his dirty threats vibrating against your soaked core.
“Jay,” you whimper as JJ's fingers pinch your nipples, twisting hard, making you squeal and shift with overstimulation.
“No. No. Fuck, baby.” Rafe chides.
“Thought you wanted his mouth, mama. Why aren’t you listening? Huh?” JJ digs as Rafe grabs the knife again. He sheathes the blade in his leather holder before turning around. Your eyes widen as he slowly traces the handle up your thigh.
“Wh-What are you-Fuckkk…” Your question gets swallowed up in a moan as Rafe plunges the handle of the knife into your tight hole, fucking you with the weapon. The curved grip hits your sweet spot, eliciting the prettiest moans from your pillowy lips.
“Mmm’so fuckin’ soaked, y/n,” Rafe murmurs drunkenly as he watches it glide in and out. You whimper pathetically as you look down at him with doe-eyes, then back up at Jay.
“C’mon, princess. Fuckin’ manners. Say you’re sorry for not listening. Let Rafe know you’ll do whatever it takes.”
“I’ll do what - whatever it takes,” you nod rapidly as you look down at the masked man between your thighs. “I’m sorry.”
“Whatever it takes. I like that sound,” Rafe mumbles as he lifts his mask. “Based off those pretty, little sounds you we’re makin’ a few nights back, princess… I don’t think you can handle what I want,” Rafe chuckles darkly before spitting on your pearl, pinching and rubbing your clit.
“Do we care, Rafe?” JJ asks, making your eyes widen, rolling back a moment later as Rafe's plush lips suck down on your bud.
“Fuck!” You cry in a hoarse whine as Rafe assaults your pussy with his mouth and knife. JJ drops your hands, looking down at you from above. You panic as he reaches for his knife instead, resting the narrow side of his blade against your throat.
“Don’t fucking move,” he warns; you take two fistfuls of sheets as your pleasure builds, your damn threatening to break at any second.
Rafe pulls out the weapon, replacing the butt of the blade with the smoothness of his warm tongue. His big thumb rolls on your clit. “M’gonna cum. Fuck. Mpfhh,” you hiccup and gasp, trying to stay still.
“It’ll hurt if you move, baby doll,” JJ barbs, his voice oozing with condescension.
“Oh my god,” you pant as your muscles lock tight, your voice coming out in a broken string of curse words as you pulse around Rafe’s tongue again and again. He moans into your pussy, pleasing you until the very last moment. Rafe runs the back of his hand against his chin, shined with your sweet release.
“She’s got the sloppiest fuckin’ pussy,” JJ praises in his southern drawl.
“She’s a filthy little whore. That’s for sure,” Rafe smiles. “So fucking sweet, baby.”
“Mhmm… Still dripping ‘n she probably already wants to get fucked dumb.”
“What was that little dig before, buddy? ‘Bet you can make me say it…’” Rafe softens his tone, mimicking yours.
“‘Bet you can’t make me say it’,” JJ tries on your voice as well, taunting you further.
“Stuff two dicks in her cunt, and she might be eatin’ her words,” Rafe laughs as he pulls you off the mattress, pressing your heaving chest against his. His hard cock stands painfully straight, snuggled between your thighs as you try to compute what he just said.
“If she starts crying, just cover her mouth, Cameron.”
“Good fuckin’ point,” Rafe groans, and you just wish you could see the fever in his blue eyes. He grabs your hips, turning you around fast. JJ’s already got his cock in his fist, just waiting for you to sink on his tip.
“Rafe was right, doll… Two dicks,” JJ sighs. “Had you cryin’ off one. What do you think’s gonna happen with two? Huh?”
“Split her shit in two probably,” Rafe laughs as he squeezes the fullness of your hips in his massive hands. You lower yourself down on his length, your head falling back on Rafe's chest as you take him fully. Your hand draws to your stomach already feeling full, JJ’s dick big enough on its own. You squeak out a cry as JJ wrap his hand around your throat, using the other to tear off his mask before pulling you down to his lips. You lay flat on his chest as his tongue roll with yours, kissing you sloppily as Rafe's big hands paw at your ass cheeks. “Ready baby, JJ,” mutters.
“Uh-huh,” you mumble as Rafe bullies his swollen tip at your greedy hole as well. JJ grabs your hips, lifting you off his cock, giving Rafe a shot.
Rafe sinks in, long and deep, plunging into your fluttering core before yanking himself out altogether, making you clutch his wrists. “Been holdin’ out on me, Maybank. S’fuckin’ heaven,” Rafe rasps from behind. He grabs your hips, pistoning into you, making you fall forward from his rough thrusts as you cry out in pleasure, delivering backshot after backshot.
Rafe pulls out, leaving you empty for a moment; JJ quickly nestles himself in again the next. You rest your heavy head on JJ’s chest, watching over your shoulder as Rafe’s fat cock pushes in, too, making you wail in pain and pleasure. You bury your face in the blonde's body as they start to stroke, settling on a rhythm just to change the pattern, only leaving you more of a mess. Your soaked pussy pulls them in, swallowing them up, making both men moan and grunt with each motion.
Rafe lifts his hand, bringing it down to slap the curve of your ass as JJ snakes his hand down, toying with your clit. Rafe spats on you again, dropping a dollop of spit onto your taut hole. You bite your lip and shake your head. ‘No,’ the safe word is right on the tip of your tongue, and you're unsure if your body can take any more. “Ja- JJ-” Rafe’s large hand clamps over your mouth as his other thumb presses into your asshole.
“Shut the fuck up and fuckin’ cum,” JJ smiles. Your eyes roll back in your skull as you’re set flying over the edge. Your pussy gushes around their cocks as they pump you to the hilt. Rafe groans in pleasure, gripping your hips, forcing his cock as deep as it’ll go as JJ does the same. You feel their warm cum mixing with yours; your puffy, pink pussy so full you burst at the seams. Your eyes flutter shut as you soften into JJ’s chest, feeling like you could pass out.
Rafe moves first, leaving you a blubbering mess as the ridges of his big cock, slide out of your cum-stained walls. JJ pulls out a second, Rafe quickly tugging your ass cheeks apart, watching the cum seep out of your glassy slit onto the bed below. “Told ya she was a freak,” JJ hums against your kiss-bitten lips, sucking off the bottom as you flutter your lashes, fighting for consciousness.
“Just fuckin’ perfect for us. Aren’t you, princess?”
“JJ doesn’t deserve you,” Rafe whispers, his gaze intense as he brushes a thumb gently across your cheek, cleaning up what remains of the mascara mess. “You’re stunning, even like this. You know?” He praises.
“She knows, man,” JJ scoffs, making Rafe smirk.
“We’re doin’ that shit again, princess,” he leans in, giving you a gentle kiss. “With or without him. N’I'd prefer without.”
“The fuck, Rafe?” JJ grumbles sleepily as he wraps his arm over you, nuzzling your neck. “You wanna do that again, baby?”
“Mpfhh… Yeah. Take off your clothes,” you hum as you tug at the bottom of Rafe’s shirt, making both boys release sleazy laughs, pretty proud of themselves for how good they made you feel. Rafe moves closer, using the contract as an excuse to steal another kiss.
“Don’t tempt me... Text me when he goes to bed. Yeah?”
“Do you ever quit?” JJ yawns, shoving Rafe’s face away from yours.
“You two stayin’ in?” Rafe asks as he slips into one of JJ’s t-shirts, impossibly tight on his broad chest and thick biceps.
“You leavin’?” JJ asks curiously.
“Might go to Slice. I might go to Lambda Nu. Feelin’ a little worn out. M’hungry as all fuck.”
“Bring us back some pizza. Yeah?” JJ yawns. Rafe shoots him a look, knowing he’s two minutes from passing the fuck out. Rafe pulls the black cloak over his shoulders, giving you a wink as he pushes his bangs back, tugging on his Ghostface mask again.
“You wear a costume. You get a free slice. You owe me for yours, Maybank. I’ll get you whatever you’d like, princess,” he croons. Rafe walks over to you one last time, lowering himself to your lips before lifting his mask just enough to kiss you a little deeper this time, setting your heart ablaze. “Can't stop kissin’ you now that I started.”
“JJ didn't say if he’d kill you or not. You better stop,” you flirt as your lips brush against his, sucking off his bottom lip.
“Fuck, I'd like to see him try… Goodnight, baby.”
“Goodnight. Thank you.”
He chuckles against your lips. “You thankin’ me? What are you thankin’ me for? Huh? Best pussy I’ve ever had-”
“Fuck off, Cameron.” JJ shoves Rafe harder than before, making Rafe lower his mask before lifting his hands in surrender.
“Good night.”
You can’t help but smile, still caught in the afterglow. The sex was so raw and rough, leaving you completely wrecked in the most blissful sense of the word. You turn to JJ, catching him watching you with a warmth in his eyes. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss against your lips.
JJ reaches over to his nightstand, tugging open a drawer, pulling out a joint. “What do you say, princess?” He asks as a mischievous smile spreads across his lips, matching yours.
The two of you make your way across his dimly lit room, tugging open the window; the lingering smell of sex wafts away, exchanging for the cool night air as JJ helps you onto the roof. The party continues to thump below, just background noise.
JJ flicks his BIC, lighting the joint, the flame briefly illuminating his features before he takes a long, satisfying haul. He puffs one more time before passing it to you. You lift it to your lips, tagging a drag, feeling the thick smoke circle in your lungs. “Not a bad night. Huh?” He asks fishing for compliments that you’ll more than happy to give.
“That was a fucking fantasy, Jay,” you smile as you lay back on the rough roof, watching the stars twinkle above you.
“I’m glad. Got kinda wild in there, baby girl. You okay?” He asks sweetly. You feed him the joint, resting it between his soft lips before turning toward him, playing with his fluffy blonde hair.
“I’m more than okay, Jay.”
“N’you were okay with Rafe bein’ there?” JJ asks.
More than okay with that too… You take a little breath as you grapple with that thought. “Mhmm…Yeah. Were you?” You ask, watching smoke seep out of his mouth; his lips tugging to the side a little.
He bites his cheek, looking away, fighting with the part of himself that actually wants to feel something. “Well, I… Shit. Sorry. I umm… I kinda got jealous. Not gonna lie. Usually, like Rafe flirtin’ with you ‘cause you're mine at the end of the day. Call me evil, but I fuckin’ love that shit,” he rambles as he studies the joint between his finger, eyeing the dent the two of you’ve already made in it. “Casual. I mean, I wanted that. No strings attached. But who am I kidding? We both know that ain’t true.”
“I mean you donkeep callin’ me yours, Jay.”
“N’you’re not?” He questions, lifting his eyebrows playfully.
“‘Course I am,” you smile, and you mean it, but not in the way that you did before. There’s this pull now, two forces at play inside you, Rafe and JJ, the two tugging your heart both ways. You’ve wanted this for a while now, but it doesn’t feel as sweet. It took seeing you with someone else to make JJ feel like maybe he wanted more.
Jealousy? He’s the one who wanted casual, who insisted on no strings, and now he’s upset about the strings he’s suddenly tangled in. There was always that line that I could see with Rafe. The one that I had yet to cross, knowing that if I did, there would be no turning back. I’ve more than crossed it after tonight… And I don’t know if I want to go back.
You look away as well, trying to gather your muddled thoughts as you sort through the mess. “We don’t have to talk about that now, sweetheart,” he quickly pivots before sucking down a little more of the joint. “Look at you, relaxin’ n’ shit,” he rasps on his exhale.
“Who knew it would only take a threesome to get me out of my head?” You humor him, moving on to the next conversation.
“Anything new?” JJ asks as he nods to your phone, faux curiosity, in an attempt to divert you further. Hoping you’ll forget all about the little jealousy talk. You shrug and grab your device, pulling open the police scanner app, listening to the crackling of static through the speakers.
It’s a barrage of chatter: dispatchers and cops talking about the usual complaints. “Nothing new.” You take a pull from the joint, smoke curling around you like a ghostly fog smudging out the stars overhead. “Do you think Rafe is going to get us pizza? I’m hungry.”
“Probably for you,” JJ chuckles, rolling his eyes away.
“There’s a party at the Beta Chi house on Woodsboro Street.” A voice whizzes through the scanner, catching your attention.
“No,” JJ groans, throwing a little fit and stamping the ember end on the roof. “God damnit.”
“How many we got?” The police officer chirps.
“Over a hundred,” the dispatcher adds, commenting on the horde of college students gathered inside and on the lawn.
“Thought we had two units on College Row?” The officer asks.
“They’re responding to a break-in two blocks north at the cross street of Weathers and Loomis.”
“Jesus,” JJ huffs. “A hundred?”
“Possible fight. Send an extra car.”
“Fuck, I hate missin’ a fight,” JJ sits up, looking out at the sea of students still partying, seeing if he can catch some of the action.
Just another night. You laugh weakly before taking a deep breath, looking up at the night again; the weed smoke clears, giving you the perfect view of the star-sprinkled sky. JJ reaches out, intertwining his fingers in yours before laying back again.
A blood-curdling scream pierces the night air. Your heart drops as you sit up straight, looking over the roof's edge. Panic surges through the crowd below as people scatter in every direction, sprinting away. The police sirens wail in the distance, moving closer and closer as the party music drowns out the circus below. “Call the cops!” “Get the fuck out!” “Move. Move!” “Run.” “Somebody got stabbed!” “He’s got a knife!”
“Stabbed?” JJ breathes. Everything below you melts together as people spill out of the house like ants, pushing, shouting, and scattering in every direction. Cars swerve on College Row, skirting around students, fleeing for safety. Red and blue lights come into view, cutting through the dim. You look down on the crowd, watching as a figure emerges, cutting through the thick—draped in a black cape.
Your breath catches in your chest as you see a knife, glistening with crimson red, clutched in his big hand. Blood drips from the blade; he quickly wipes it away on his cape as he steps off the curb onto the road—a blue Jeep. Your eyes double as you see the driver and the other person in the car waiting, both wearing masks. You look down at the masked man’s feet, black satin pants dusting along the ground. Your heart rate climbs as the pieces clink together.
“All units, we have reports of a stabbing at the frat house: multiple victims, multiple suspects fleeing the scene. Proceed with caution. Repeat, proceed with caution!”
Rafe, Topper, and Kelce…
The scanner crackles again, breaking your thoughts. “Suspect is described as wearing a Ghostface mask, last seen heading east on Woodsboro Street in a black truck. All units, be on the lookout.”
Oh my god. You’re paralyzed as Rafe turns, locking eyes with you, waiting to see if you’ll react. He stalls until the last possible moment, banging his fist against the side of the Jeep in frustration before sinking into the vehicle, the three speeding off fast.
“What are you doing?” You ask JJ in a panic. His face glows in the light of his phone as he opens his call log, dialing out for Rafe.
“I need to make sure Rafe’s okay.”
A strange numbness settles over you as you realize he didn't see what you saw. You can hear the muffled dial tone ring. Rafe picks up almost instantly, his voice coming through the speaker with that familiar lazy charm. “The fuck do you want, bitch?” He taunts.
“Where-”
“Tell y/n the pizza she wants is burnt to shit, but I’ll wait until ‘til they make a new one. Aight?” Rafe cuts JJ short.
“Thank god, man,” JJ sighs in relief, burying his head in his hand. “Holy fuckin’ shit-”
“The hell’s goin’ on?” Rafe asks.
“Somebody got stabbed. A few people? We don’t know how many. We’re on the roof.”
“Stabbed?” Rafe asks in disbelief. He’s good… So good that, for a split second, you question what you know you saw: Thornton’s Jeep, three big bodies, a pair of Noble Loafers, and black satin pants. That’s Rafe’s knife… That blood was fresh. “Is y/n okay?” He asks protectively. “Can I talk to her?”
“Yeah, man. She’s good. Just shaken up. ‘Course you can talk to her.” JJ passes the phone to you, your hand trembling and clammy as you lift it to your ear.
“Baby?” Your stomach sinks, chills running down your spine as you hear his deep voice. “Are you okay?” He asks as a test; a probe, to see if you’ll break. You take a deep, jagged breath, steadying yourself, forcing the words past your lips.
“I’m okay.” The lie comes easily, slipping into place like it belongs there.
“That’s good, princess,” his voice softens, quiet enough, reserved for your ears only. “You’re not gonna say anything, are you?” He asks, and just like before, when you could hear his smile under the mask.
“No,” you whisper, and you mean it. You hear his deep, raspy laugh swell on the other side.
“That’s my girl.”
🔪🔪 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖓𝖉. 🔪🔪
𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙
𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚢 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚜! 𝙸 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝. 𝙰𝚕𝚜𝚘, 𝚊 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕. 𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚣𝚒𝚗𝚐! 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙳𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚓𝚘𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝙷𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚂𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚛
⭐ tags ⭐ <- tag list on my pinned post (if your name is crossed out, your tag isn't working💕) @floredaqueen @rafesthroatbaby @loserboysandlithium @theeternaloptimistt @ditzyzombiesblog @cl4uus @aariahnaa @hyperfixationgirl @akobx @daryldixon83 @rafesgiirl @sleepiibunniiii @gri959 @oxpogues4lifexo @babygorewhore @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @savayvayor-blog @starkeysprincess @unrealmirrorball @romaescapes @cades-outsider @namelesslosers @anamiad00msday @buckybarnessweetheart @watchmerora
#rafeyscurtainbangs kinktober 2024 🎃#rafeyscurtainbangs library 📚#rafe cameron#outer banks#rafe#obx#rafe cameron smut#rafe smut#rafe x reader#ghostface!jj#ghostface!rafe#frat bro rafe#frat rafe#frat!rafe#frat jj#rafe x jj x reader#jj smut#jj x reader#obx kinktober#rafe kinktober#jj Kinktober#dark rafe x reader#dark!rafe cameron#rafe x female reader#jj maybank x reader
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SIT DOWN
This is inspired by a TikTok I seen by @blaackaesthetics
Description: Mattheo Riddle is your boyfriend and Theodore Nott his best friend. As much as you love him he doesn’t half get on your nerves with the pair of you always fighting like a cat and dog. In a heavily heated argument Theo tells your boyfriend to get you under control which makes you see red.
18+, Smut
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
You, Mattheo and Theo (your boyfriend’s best friend) are currently sitting in the common room. What started as you complaining about his fuckboy ways has turned into a screaming match between you and Theo. Mattheo as usual is caught in between, watching the pair of you with amusement.
The audacity this boy has. You always knew that he was a player and despite your many conversations trying to talk sense into him for the most part you left him to it. That is until he hurt one of your best friends. You warned him, you also warned her but she has always been far too naive. He asked for you to set the pair up, him claiming he won’t do anything to hurt her. For so long you refused until she was practically begging you to. So you have in hoping he doesn’t fuck with her head too much but of course she had to fall for him.
‘Theo I just don’t get how you think you can treat people like that do you not have an ounce of fucking remorse in your body?’
He shrugs his nonchalant attitude grating on you even more ‘she knew what she was getting herself in for.’
‘You never once said it was a one night stand you made out like you liked her back.’
‘Well she read into things I didn’t say any of what she is implying.’
‘You know what girls are like and you still chose to lead her on knowing what would happen.’
He doesn’t even look at you still smoking in his own world unfazed by your complaining. Rage fills you even more how he can act so heartless when you had to sit with your friend whilst she cried for two days straight. You have always been protective when it comes to those you love and he has took it too far. You storm over to were he is sat grab the cigarette out of his hand and put it out on the ash tray ‘fucking listen to me you dick!’
‘What the fuck!’ he shouts standing up and getting in your face ‘don’t ignore me when I am talking to you I told you to not hurt her, are you really that desperate to get your dick wet you had to sleep with the one person I said not to!’ You look him up and down with disgust.
He clenches his jaw rage filling his veins at the way you are speaking to him. No one else dares to and you best believe you are putting him in his place. He gives you a little shove ‘do not talk to me like that, I will do what I want she was the one fucking begging for it.’
You shake your head glaring at him ‘you’re disgusting.’
‘Yeah and little Molly fucking loved…’
‘Argghhh’ you want to punch the smug prick but you opt for your wand instead. You have always been to impulsive and prone to anger so you don’t even have time to think before you are trying to fire a hex his way. Before the words can leave your mouth your wand goes flying out your hand. Mattheo as always keeping a close eye on the situation had said ‘expelliarmus’ without you hearing, damn him and his quidditch reflexes.
‘Fucking control your girl.’ He adds in snidely only making you more angry. ‘Excuse me I don’t fucking need controlling maybe you need to stop being such a filthy manwhore…’ you push him back.
‘All right love that’s enough’ you feel his arms around your waist pulling you back even though you fight him. He pulls you to face him ‘sit down’ he nods head to the couch but you just glare at him. ‘Fine I’ll sit you down’ he plops down onto the couch pulling you onto his lap, his arms around your waist in a death grip.
‘Are you not going to tell him I’m not doing anything wrong.’
Theo looks at you smirking at the fact Mattheo tried to put you in your place ‘Mattheo I’m going to kill him let me go.’
‘Love calm down and you stop antagonising her you prick.’ Theo just gives an innocent smile ‘hey I’m not doing anything was just trying to smoke in peace before I got attacked.’
‘Can you blame me you know it’s the one thing I asked him not to do she’s been heartbroken all week.’
Mattheo nods at you stroking your cheek ‘I know it’s not worth getting angry over you two need to stop arguing.’ He stares deep into your eyes holding you there for a second until you feel yourself relaxing. Your anger dissipates more at his touch and you breathe in getting more comfy on his lap. ‘Good girl’ he says tucking your hair behind your ear.
‘Listen mate did you really have to fuck her out of everyone she did beg you…’
‘I didn’t know she would get so attached you warned her yourself not my fault she is stupid and didn’t listen.’
You try to stand up and charge over to him but you can’t move with your boyfriend’s strength holding you to his chest. Theo just chuckles at this again. He has always known how quick to anger you are and he just loves winding you up. ‘Matt don’t you dare fucking defend him he’s horrible!’
‘Theo’ Mattheo says sternly. He just looks over sighing holding his hands up in defeat not wanting to upset his best friend. ‘All right all right I’m sorry I fucked her can you blame me though I did try and stay away she was practically begging me!’
‘You can apologise to her as well.’
‘No fucking way.’
You look at your boyfriend crossing your arms knowing he will find a way to force Theo to. He just raises his brows at him and Theo huffs ‘For fucks sake, what am I meant to say I’m sorry you like me?’
‘No you say I’m sorry I don’t feel the same way I shouldn’t have led you on and you deserve better anyway because she fucking does I could kill you for making her feel like shit when she deserves the world.’
He sighs ‘listen I could have never gave her what she wanted anyway it was for the best.’
‘Just tell her that then you don’t have to be such a dick about everything and do me a favour and stop going after girls you know will only end up obsessed with you do you need an ego boost that bad?’
He rolls his tongue on the inside of his cheek trying to hold back another snarky comment. ‘Fine where is she.’
‘In her common room the last time I seen her.’
‘You want me to go all the way to the Hufflepuff rooms?’
‘Yes I do I don’t want her upset any longer.’
He bounces his leg up and down for a moment ‘Ugh fine’ he storms off out of your common room to find her and you breathe out a breathe of relief.
Your boyfriend slowly lets go of you ‘your not a safety hazard are you anymore love’ he chuckles and you send a sharp glare his way. ‘Why do you always defend him I’m not the one that needs controlling it’s his mouth!’
‘I know but you are both in the wrong I’ve told you that you need to control your temper and listen to me.’
‘Well he deserved what I was about to do to him.’
‘Yeah and what was that?’
‘Iwasgoingtogivehimpigears.’
‘What was that?’
You sigh ‘I was going to give him pig ears’ you mutter.
His jaw drops but a laugh escapes his lips despite himself ‘you’re fucking crazy.’
‘Well he shouldn’t piss me off.’
‘You can’t just go round hexing people love do you want to get expelled?’
‘Stop trying to tell me what to do I’m sick of him telling you to control me what am I a dog?’
‘Y/N’ he warns you but you stand up storming to your room. You know it’s unfair to direct your anger at him but there’s nothing you hate more than being told what to do. You just need some space to breathe and try to calm down. He gives you a few minutes and you sit biting your nails the worst habit you could have.
He eventually makes his way to your room slowly shutting the door and walking over to where you are sat. He tilts your chin up to him. ‘You done yet?’
Despite you and Mattheo both being the most impulsive, anger prone people you both know exactly how to calm the other down. No matter how much you try to push him away he can always put you in your place, bringing you back down from the choking feeling of rage.
You clench your jaw looking away still being too stubborn. ‘Stop acting like you are on his side.’
‘your my girl and he’s my best friend I’m not siding with either of you I told him he was being a dick but you can’t act like that’
You look back at him and he crouches down between your legs hands running up and down your thighs. ‘Am I the one that done it? No so you can drop your attitude right now and stop taking it out on me.’
You breathe in knowing he is right but you can’t admit defeat just yet. You just cross your arms and he rolls his tongue on the inside of his cheek. ‘You going to make me get rid of that attitude then?’
‘Fucking brat’ he says as you don’t answer pushing you roughly down on the bed ‘when I tell you to sit down and shut up you fucking listen to me.’
You go to give him a snarky retort but he leans over squeezing your neck ‘you think that’s wise?’ Your mouth snaps shut seeing the look in his eyes. ‘Now are you going to be a good girl and stop being a bitch to me.’
‘Yes.’ You grit out. ‘What was that love?’
‘I said yes.’ You say your tone still being bitchy ‘mhmm not good enough you’re still speaking to me like shit apologise.’
Your jaw drops in disbelief ‘me apologise what the fuck Mattheo it was him…!’
‘You are acting like a fucking toddler apologise for not controlling yourself and clearly not doing what I say.’
You cross your arms ignoring him, your stubbornness always being your worst trait. He looks at you darkly ‘suit yourself.’
He rags of your nickers and skirt ‘act tough all you want we both know I’m in control here it’s about time you acted like it.’
Anticipation runs through your body and a dark part of you just loves seeing him like this, you love being put in your place despite all your protests that you hate being told what to do. ‘You’re going to do exactly what I say understand?’
‘Yes’ you breathe out nearly moaning just off his words. ‘I’m going to do exactly what I fucking please with you and you’re going to take it yeah?’ You nod your head at him. ‘This will teach you right for being such a brat.’
He usually teases you, starting off slow taking his sweet time eating you out. However you can tell this isn’t about his own pleasure or yours it’s a punishment. He dives onto your clit straight away biting and sucking harshly. The pressure is too much and you gasp your back arching ‘Matt!’ You try to pull away or pull his head back but he wraps his arms around your thighs holding them in place ‘Shut the fuck up I don’t want to hear another word.’ He mutters still continuing his attack.
Despite how overstimulating it is after a while of pressure building you feel yourself coming close to an orgasm you tangle your hands in his hair riding his tongue as he continues to eat you out. He must sense it as well because just it was about to wash over you he pulls away wiping his mouth. You gasp ‘Matt what the fuck…’
He climbs over grabbing your throat again ‘I thought I said not another word?’
You let out a half whimper half moan and nod your head. ‘Sorry baby I was so close.’ He chuckles darkly ‘I know and it’s your own fault for disobeying me you’re not finishing until I say so.’
You want to cry, you want to go back ten minutes and change your actions just so he can let you finish. ‘Complain one more time and I’ll stop all together.’ He remains hovering over you eyes locked on yours as he slowly pumps one finger in and out of you. It’s torture and you buck your hips needing more. You want to cry and beg him but you know it will only make it worse if you speak so you take his teasing and bite your lip as hard as you can.
He eventually pulls out all together stripping his clothes off until his dick springs out. He spreads your legs wide teasing your entrance. ‘Look how wet you are I bet you love this don’t you being put in your place.’
‘Don’t worry darling there’s going to be no attitude left in you once I’m done.’ He finally puts himself inside you but he has no mercy. Instantly his pounding in and out your cunt. The pain and pleasure is disorienting and your legs instantly try to close. He growls and pulls them open again ‘open your fucking legs’ you do as he says sobbing as he continues slamming his hips into yours ‘that’s a good girl spread them nice and wide for me.’
He was right he is going to do exactly what he wants to you and all you can do is take it. Your body goes limp, you stop fighting and let the intensity of the feeling take over you. This gives him more room to get even closer to you driving deeper then you thought possible. ‘That’s it take my dick.’ You don’t even try to hold back your moans as the pain starts morphing into pleasure.
‘Apologise now.’
You barely hear him lost in a world of your own until he stops causing you to whimper again grabbing him but he just pins your hands above your head. ‘You want to cum?’ You nod your head frantically ‘Apologise.’
‘I’m sorry Matt.’
‘Mhm’ he says starting to drive back into you ‘what for?’
‘For-for’ you moan as he keeps hitting the spot ‘Matt!’ You scream out trying to convey that you aren’t in the position to be listing our apologies.
‘Come on love spit out’ he just chuckles taunting you. ‘I’m sorry for being a brat and not listening!’
‘Who do you belong to?’
‘You’
‘So you are going to listen to me from now on or the punishment will be a lot worse then this I’ve let you off easy.’
You nod your head just wanting to cum. ‘I’ll be good now Matt… I’m getting close.’
‘Go on them baby cum.’ wraps his arms around your waist pulling you closer and slams his hips in and out with a pace you didn’t even think was possible. You are a blabbering mess as you finally finish and tears fill your eyes at you finally being able to release. Matt finishes a couple of minutes later pulling out and you don’t even give him a second before clinging onto him.
‘There’s my girl’ he presses a kiss to your forehead seeing you back relaxed in your usual soft state with him. Who knew it just took him pounding into you to release all that anger.
‘I’m sorry Matt’ you feel tears running down your face being overwhelmed with the emotions running through you. ‘I just get so angry and take it out on you but I love you.’
‘I know baby you took me so well though you were so good.’ He wipes away a few of your tears smiling at you. ‘You have to ignore him though okay and listen to me when I tell you to calm down.’ You nod your head knowing if there is anyone in this earth that has the potential to tame your rage it’s only going to be him.
#harry potter fanfiction#slytherin boys x reader#slytherin#slytherin boys#fanfic#slytherin boys smut#theo nott#mattheo x you#mattheo x y/n#mattheoxreader#mattheo x reader#mattheo riddle imagine#mattheo smut#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle smut#smut#theodore nott
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hi, everyone! Not really much of a poster, more of a lurker, but I just wanted to take a second to validate ya'll and get some stuff off my chest.
So, first of all, I am by all means an outsider. As in- never watched a single episode of 911 -outsider. The thing that brought me in, practically devouring fics and learning about the characters and the show? Bucktommy. Yeah, I practically live in this tag haha. They're cute as hell and watching them makes me so happy, and so does HenRen!! As a queer person myself, it's awesome to see them just living their lives, being a family, etc etc.
So, why am I making this post? To tell y'all you're not delusional, you're not bots, you're not seeing things-- bucktommy is there. I feel the chemistry, and so do the GA most probably.
I've seen some nasty stuff being said by 'buddie' shippers that are... demeaning and really childish, and honestly? They don't hate the ship, they just hate that it's not their ship. I've been in these trenches before, and the only thing that can combat their negativity is to avoid engaging them and to keep spreading the things that make bucktommy a great ship, because they are! They have so much potential, and I can't wait to see how the show will present their story to us.
And anyways, I adore Buck and Eddie as best friends. Why does that have to change? Buck can be queer, and Eddie can be queer as well if that's in his future, but why does that mean they have to get together? I love their dynamic as best friends because they remind me so much of me and my best friend! I would hate for them to lose that, but that's neither here nor there.
All that is to say, I'm excited for what the future holds for our firefighter boys, and I'm so glad the bucktommy fandom seems to be a relatively safe and welcoming space. I hope y'all keep it that way! ❤️ Thanks for listening to my rambles, haha.
(p.s. again, AS AN OUTSIDER, that graveyard scene when they're looking at each other in those suits... tell me that didn't scream wedding to y'all 😭)
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D-16 x Cybertronian!Reader One Shot: Conjunx
Here’s another One Shot with my bbg D-16. This one just cam e into mind so of course i got to writing. I’m pretty proud of this story and I enjoyed writing for only D. I hope you all enjoy!
TW/Tags: Fluff/Wholesomeness at beginning, D is precious and silly, angst after cut after wholesome romance, Implied abuse (mild), kidnapping, toxic relationship at end. Might make part 2? We’ll see what my brain throws at me at 2 am lol
You and D only really hanged out when Orion was around. Not because D was embarrassed but because Orion was usually busy doing something else. You were seen as a quiet bot and also cool by D. You always stood up to the superiors knowing you weren’t out of line. And despite being a few inches smaller then D. You were strong! D won’t admit it but he was defiantly attracted to you.
One day when getting off the train, Orion did something stupid again. Elita dragged him away to do a late mining shift as punishment. Later D was alone and worked on punching the punching bag in the mining quarters. The others left him be, knowing his temper without Orion. He was so focused he didn’t notice you came up behind him. Knowing he might try to punch you if you startled him. You descide to pick him up by the waist strartling him “Hey you glitchin bot! Put me dow- Oh its you.” You put him down. He looked at you no longer startled.
”Sorry D didn’t want you to punch me if I didn’t pick you up.” You chuckled.
”You know you could’ve handled my punches right?”
”Yes but I would’ve had to punch you back.”
”…..Good point.” He pointed his digit to you.
”You mind if we talk?” D almost froze as his smile shows to have strained a bit as he looked at you. “It’s nothing bad.” You chuckled. “Come on lets go where we can see the Iacon 5000 sign.”
“O-ok.” You two walked and once up there you finally spoke.
”So D I’ve been thinking. We’ve been good friends for a good while and was hoping. Since after all this time-“ You continue to speak as his head only started to overthink.
Was so lost in thought of you possibly leaving him that he barely heard you. He then heard you say Conjunx out of the blurr of what you’re saying. But that word brought him out of his thoughts “What you say?”
”D-16 will you be my Conjunx?” You were on one knee. (Thought it be cute shud up) D was dumbfounded until he realized and his face no longer showed a blank expression but had a cute little grin appear on his face. He then shakes a little. Little sounds of metal being heard. You reached a cervo toawrds him once you stood, a bit worried “Uhhh D??”
Then out of no where he hugged you and started spinning, you around as he shouted in cheer and joy. You were now dumbfounded and put your cervos on his shoulders gently patting. “So…..that’s a yes?” He then holds you up with his hands holding your waist.
”YES!!!!” I have been waiting for so lo-“ He looked at you once he stopped. He can tell you were trying to hold in a laugh. “Uhh”
”Guess tonight will be a night to never forget.” You both chuckled and embrace each other. Both of your foreheads touching as you two closed your eyes.
D then lets out a soft sigh as he gently lowers you. You standing once more. Your arms around his neck and his around your waist. Your foreheads still touching as you two stared into each other’s eyes.
”I love you Y/N”
”I love you D. Mine. Always and Forever.”
You both leaned closer together and as your lips both finally touch. The sparks in your chests soon glow. Shinning around you as you two stay in the moment together with the sign of Iacon 5000 behind you both in the dark city.
———————————————————————————
(Last chance guys skip this part if you don’t wanna feel pain)
Megatron sat in his throne as he thought about that night. It is truly the night to remember. After everything. He lost his best friend, his home, and after realizing he has been lied to for all his life up to now. He just couldn’t lose you. The high guard was third to him. His new cause is his new goal but you. YOU are the one thing that truly belongs to him.
As he sat there, his head resting on his fist as he watched the high guards having a meeting. He listened, only glancing down to see you every so often as you rest your head and one of your cervos against his chassis.
Your optics closed as you sat on his lap. You had a cog and a decepticon logo on your chassis. His arm around behind your back and cervo resting on your thigh. Your other cervo that wasn’t on his chest resting on top of his on your thigh. You had a few dents. Proof from when he forced you to come with him when sneaking into the city and take you with him. After some time he had to discipline you to behave. Same thing when he forced you to stay still as the Decepticon logo was put on you. You are His Conjunx. You should really learn to trust him. He even threatened to hurt you more if you chose to break the bond from that very night. Ever since then you’ve been tired and miserable. You always felt his feelings through the bond. But you can still feel that love he has for you. Only it’s much darker now.
You listened to his spark beat as you two stayed silent. Starscream and Shockwave started to argue as Soundwave sat there with a data pad. You’d slowly open your optics. You had a little rust under your eyes. Not very visible if far enough.
You cried. You cry every night after Megatron goes to recharge. The meeting eventually ends and Megatron dismisses everyone. Once everyone was gone he looked down at you. Finally lifting his head so he’s more straight sitting up. Moving his cervo to now hold your chin. Making you look at him as his now red optics narrowed and stared down at you. “Hungry sweetspark?” His voice was darker and rough. It still makes you flinch when he speaks to you.
You didn’t answer. You only shook your head as your optics remained dim. He leaned his head lower a bit. His face only inches from yours. “Almost Obedient…hm…”
You two remain silent for a moment.
“Mine. Always and Forever.”
He closes the distance. His lips connecting with yours once more after so long. His lips now cold as he closed his optics. You closed yours a second after.
But you didn’t return the kiss. His cervo moving from your thigh to the back of your head. Pushing your head a bit closer. Your kiss is no longer the same. His kiss. Is no longer the same. Megatron wasn’t Your D-16.
So….. y’all like 😗?
#transformers one#transformers one x reader#d 16 x orion pax#tf d16#transformers d16#x reader#transformers x reader#light angst#one shot
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