#i feel like i want a hug and someone to not try to look me in the eye but like just make space for me next to them while they do something | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thef1diary · 2 days

Text

While It Lasts | L. Norris - 2

Summary: Lando expected nothing more than relaxation and fun for two weeks during his summer break. What he didn’t anticipate was meeting you, someone who felt like a perfect match in every way. As the days quickly passed, he found himself falling deeply for you, only to be confronted with the heart-wrenching reality that your time together was far more limited than he ever imagined.

Part 1

PLEASE READ: This story contains themes of loss, morality, fear, death, relationship strains, mental health struggles, including significant emotional impact related to the reader’s journey with a chronic illness and some scenes are set in hospitals. Reminder that this is simply a work of fiction, please don’t take it to heart.

wc: 16.5k

You woke up to the faint clattering of dishes in the kitchen. Groggily, you opened your eyes, feeling the stiffness from sleeping awkwardly on the couch. Stretching, you realized Isaac was already up, making breakfast.

“Isaac,” you called out, your voice hoarse from sleep.

He didn’t seem to hear you, the noise of the kitchen drowning out your voice. With a sigh, you decided to hobble over to him, each step a reminder of your twisted ankle and the awkward position you’d slept in.

Reaching the kitchen, you leaned against the doorway for support. “Isaac,” you said a bit louder.

He turned, surprise and concern crossing his face. “You should be resting.”

“I know,” you replied, wincing slightly as you moved closer. “But we need to talk.”

Isaac set down the pan he was holding, his expression turning serious. “Alright, let’s talk.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the words you were about to say. “Isaac, I’m sorry for yelling at you yesterday. I know you’re just trying to take care of me.”

He shook his head, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and pain. “Every single day for the past four years, I have this fear that you’ll leave me at any moment. Yes, it is selfish, very selfish because I truly don’t know what you’re feeling, what you’re going through. But while you might’ve accepted that you’re dying, I didn’t! I just wanted to make sure you’re taking care of yourself, so you can live another day, so you can see me graduate college, see me – I don’t know – find the love of my life or get married. I’m sorry. You’re my sister, you are the last person I need to act like I’m on eggshells around you.”

Your heart ached at his words, the depth of his fear and love hitting you hard. “Your fear is valid, Isaac. Just because I’ve accepted it, doesn’t mean that I like it. But it won’t change fate, will it? It won’t change the fact that I’ve been dealt a shitty hand at life. All I know is that when I’m taking my last breaths, whenever it is, I don’t want to regret anything. I don’t want to regret not living enough because of the fear of dying. Just because I have a stupid countdown doesn’t mean I should be afraid to live.”

Isaac looked at you, his eyes moist with unshed tears. “I just want you to be here, to live as long as possible.”

“I know,” you whispered, reaching out to engulf him in a hug. “I’ll try to take better care of myself.”

He nodded slowly, his grip tightening around your body. “And I’ll try to be less overprotective, I promise, I’ll try.”

You smiled, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Thank you, Isaac.”

As you stood there, holding onto each other in the quiet morning light, you felt a sense of peace. When he pulled back, he scrunched up his face. “But it’ll be harder to explain that to mum and dad.”

You shrugged, “they’ll get it, one day, hopefully.”

After breakfast, Isaac announced he needed to run some errands in town. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” he said, grabbing his keys. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

You nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine. Take your time.”

As the door closed behind him, the house fell into a quiet lull. You settled back on the couch, trying to get comfortable and rest your ankle. Just as you were starting to drift off, the doorbell rang.

With a sigh, you swung your legs off the couch and hobbled toward the door, wincing with each step. When you finally reached it and pulled it open, you were greeted by Lando’s mischievous grin that quickly turned into worry.

“Hey,” he said, his brow furrowed as he took in your hobbling form. “You shouldn’t be up and about. How’s the ankle?”

“Hey, Lando,” you replied, leaning against the doorframe for support. “It’s sore but I’ll survive. Come in.”

He stepped inside, immediately reaching out to steady you. “Here, let me help you back to the couch.”

You nodded, grateful for his support. You leaned against him and held his hand as he guided you back to your spot on the couch. You couldn’t help but notice the warmth of his touch and the genuine concern in his eyes.

“Thanks,” you said once you were settled again. “What brings you here?”

Lando shrugged, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “I wanted to check on you. Make sure you’re not getting into any more trouble.”

You chuckled softly. “Well, I did manage to twist my ankle pretty badly.”

His expression turned serious. “I know. I felt terrible leaving you like that last night.”

“It’s alright, I was already sleeping before you left,” you waved off his concern.

“Speaking of falling asleep…” Lando began, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I couldn’t resist stopping by the bookstore you mentioned. Figured I’d pick up a couple of books to keep us entertained.”

You grinned, appreciating his thoughtfulness. “You went to the bookstore? You really are determined to explore every corner of this town, aren’t you?”

Lando nodded enthusiastically, pulling the books out of the bag he carried when he entered. “Of course! And since my favorite tour guide is out of commission,” he said, gesturing to your injured ankle, “I had to take matters into my own hands.”

He revealed two identical books, holding them up with a grin. “Thought we could have a reading competition. Winner gets bragging rights.”

You chuckled, shaking your head in amusement. “It’s always a competition with you, isn’t it?”

Lando shrugged nonchalantly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “What can I say? I’m a competitive guy. Comes with the territory. Oh, and by the way,” he added casually, “did I mention I’m a Formula 1 driver?”

You blinked, surprised by the revelation. “Wait, seriously?”

Lando grinned, “yeah, been racing for quite a few years now.”

You nodded, a smile spreading on your face when he delved into the details, and it’s evident that he loves talking about his passion.

“That actually makes so much sense, that’s how you know the Sainz family, right?”

Lando’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Yes, but how do you know them?”

You laughed softly, and it quickly became a sound Lando loved hearing. “I live next to the villa, remember?” You teased jokingly.

A sheepish smile grew on his face, “oh, right. So what, you’ve met Carlos too? And here I thought I was the first F1 driver you’ve met.”

You nodded. “Yeah, in passing. We never really talked much, but I’ve seen him and his family around often.”

Then you leaned closer and whispered, “but don’t tell him that he may no longer be my favourite.”

He quirked up an eyebrow, leaning in as well and responding with the same amount of energy. “Then who is?”

You shrugged, leaning back with a small smile and a faint blush covering your cheeks. “I think I might have to watch a race to decide.”

As you continued chatting with Lando, the pain in your ankle seemed to fade into the background. His enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself drawn into his stories about racing, the thrill of waiting for the lights to go out, and the camaraderie between his fellow drivers.

Eventually, you decided to start the reading competition. Both of you settled into the couch with your respective books, determined to see who would finish first. But as the minutes ticked by, Lando found it hard to focus on his book. His gaze kept drifting to you, watching the way your eyes moved across the pages and the little expressions that flitted across your face as you read.

He couldn’t help but want to talk to you, to hear more about your thoughts. Finally, he put his book down with a sigh, unable to concentrate any longer.

“So, what’s next on the agenda once your ankle’s better? Something less adventurous, perhaps?”

You placed your book down after marking your page, chuckling as you looked at him. “Can’t focus, can you?”

“Not with you around,” he shrugged casually.

Trapping your lip between your teeth to prevent a smile from growing on your face, you chose to focus on the question he asked.

“There’s this amazing seafood restaurant nearby. It’s a local favorite, and the food is incredible. Fresh catches of the day, and the chef’s specials are to die for. You’ll love it!”

As you spoke, you didn’t notice Lando’s face pale slightly. He wasn’t a fan of seafood, but he couldn’t bring himself to dampen your excitement by telling you the truth. The way your eyes lit up talking about the place made him want to experience it with you, even if he never wanted to be around any sort of fish.

“Sounds great,” Lando said, forcing a smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”

You clapped your hands together, beaming. “You won’t regret it, I promise. The view from the restaurant is amazing too. It’s right by the water, and you can see the boats coming in and out of the harbor. It’s a perfect spot for a relaxing evening.”

Lando nodded, matching your enthusiasm as best he could. “That sounds perfect. I can’t wait.”

“How about we go there for dinner tomorrow?” you suggested, your excitement bubbling over.

“Tomorrow night it is,” Lando agreed, his smile genuine due to your smile despite his seafood reservations.

The next evening came around too quickly for Lando’s liking. Instead of stressing over what to wear this time, he was worried about the food itself. The prospect of seafood was daunting, but he didn’t want to let you down. As he rummaged through his closet, Max walked into the room with a teasing grin.

“Mate, you like her so much that you’d willingly eat seafood for her?” Max said, leaning against the doorframe.

Lando looked up, a mixture of nerves and amusement on his face. “Yeah, well, it’s not just about the food. It’s about the company.”

He chuckled, “you’re a brave man.” Then he sighed exaggeratedly, “oh the things you do in love.”

Lando’s back straightened suddenly. “It’s not love… yet. We’re just hanging out.”

Max’s eyes widened since he didn’t expect such an answer, “wait a second, ‘yet’? Do you actually like her?”

Lando shrugged, trying to play it off, but the slight smile on his face betrayed him. “I don’t know, Max. Maybe. It’s… complicated.”

Max studied him for a moment, then a grin spread across his face. “I should’ve seen it coming, but she’s great! Maybe even a little out of your league,” he spoke with a teasing grin, that only made Lando roll his eyes when he saw his best friend’s face.

“She’s beautiful,” he said softly, not denying Max’s words.

Max's teasing grin softened into a more serious expression. "Hey, I'm serious though. You don't have to go through with this if you're not comfortable. You shouldn't feel like you have to force yourself to like something just to impress her."

Lando appreciated Max's concern, but he shook his head. "It's not about impressing her. I want to spend time with her, Max. She's... she's different."

Max raised an eyebrow, a knowing look in his eyes. "Different, huh? Well, just be careful, okay?"

Lando nodded, his thoughts swirling with uncertainty and anticipation. "Of course."

As Max left the room, Lando took a moment to collect his thoughts. He knew Max was just looking out for him, but there was something about you that made him want to take the risk. With a determined smile, he finished getting ready and was about to head out to meet you, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement building inside him.

Right as he was leaving the villa, Max’s voice rang out. “If you need an excuse to skip out, I can come up with something. No need to torture yourself over fish.”

Lando shook his head, appreciating the concern. “Thanks, Max, but I’ll be fine. I just… I don’t want to ruin this. She’s really excited about the place.”

A very short drive later, Lando knocked on your door, and when you opened it, his eyes widened appreciatively as they swept over you. You wore a simple yet elegant dress, the color complementing your features perfectly.

“Wow,” he breathed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You look amazing.”

Blushing slightly at his compliment, you thanked him and closed the door behind you as you left your cottage, walking towards Lando’s car. “Thanks, Lando, you don’t look too bad yourself.”

He fell in step beside you, still admiring your outfit. “So, do you have a hot date or something?”

You chuckled at his question, shaking your head. “Nope, no dates, just going out with some racer guy, not sure if you know him.”

Sitting in his car, he instantly looked at you with a raised eyebrow and a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “Hmm, sounds like a great guy! Is he interesting?”

You laughed, nudging him as he drove. “Very.”

When you arrived at the restaurant, the sun was just starting to set, casting a golden glow over the water. It was nestled right by the harbor, with a perfect view of the boats coming and going. Lando parked the car and helped you out, his hand lingering a moment longer than necessary as he offered support for your still-healing ankle. Even though you could walk without needing support again, you didn’t mind holding onto his hand.

“Wow, this place is beautiful,” he said, genuinely impressed by the picturesque setting.

“I told you,” you replied with a satisfied smile. “Come on, let’s get a table by the window.”

The interior of the restaurant was cozy, with soft lighting and a gentle murmur of conversation filling the air. A small fish tank adorned one corner of the room, the colorful fish swimming lazily in the water. Lando couldn’t help but chuckle nervously as he glanced at the tank.

“Kinda cruel, isn’t it?” he joked, nodding towards the fish tank. "Having live fish in a seafood restaurant," Lando remarked with a wry smile.

Still, you laughed, nodding in agreement. "The owners think it adds to the ambiance."

As you were seated and handed the menus, Lando took a deep breath, steeling himself for the seafood-heavy options. But when he looked across the table and saw your excited expression, he hoped it would all be worth it. This evening was about enjoying your company, and he was determined to do just that, and perhaps if everything went very well, he might casually mention that he’d like to take you out on an actual date.

As the waiter took your orders, you couldn't contain your excitement, eager to indulge in the fresh seafood the restaurant had to offer. Lando, however, seemed a bit hesitant, but he eventually settled on a dish, trying to mask his apprehension with a smile.

Once the food arrived, you dug in eagerly, savoring each bite of the delicious seafood. However, as you glanced over at Lando, you noticed something was off. His attempts to conceal his discomfort were evident, and you could see the struggle on his face as he hesitantly bit into a shrimp, his expression revealing disgust as he tried to swallow it.

Concerned, you leaned closer to him, your voice soft with worry. "Is everything okay, Lando?"

He hesitated, clearly torn, spitting the piece of shrimp into a tissue before finally admitting, "I'm sorry, I just... I can't do seafood."

Surprised by his confession, you felt a pang of guilt wash over you. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

Lando shrugged, looking sheepish. "I didn't want to ruin your plans, you looked so excited to come here and I thought I could handle it, but..."

Without hesitation, you reached out, taking his hand in yours. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Leading him out of the restaurant, you felt a mix of disappointment and concern. Disappointed that he didn’t feel comfortable sharing such a simple detail with you, and concerned that he attempted to eat a shrimp, knowing he disliked it, all for your sake.

But as you walked together, you were determined to salvage the evening because you didn’t want the night to end just yet. "How about we find a burger place? Is that something you'll enjoy."

Lando's gratitude was evident in his smile as he nodded, and together, you set off to find a new spot to continue your evening, determined to make it memorable for all the right reasons.

You and Lando ended up sitting in his car, munching on takeout burgers and fries, the mood was light and laughter filled the air. Lando was in the middle of telling a funny story from his racing season, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he recounted the antics of how multiple of his fellow drivers tried to convince him to try seafood but failed.

You couldn’t help but laugh along, enjoying the animated way he described each moment. You playfully nudged Lando, a grin spreading across your face. “Well, it seems like all those F1 drivers couldn’t get you to try seafood, but I did, even if it was just a bite!”

Lando leaned back in his seat, a lighthearted smile playing on his lips. “You know, for you, I’d try anything… except seafood.”

As you heard Lando's words, a soft realization came to you that his remark held a hint of flirtation.

“Why don’t you like seafood anyways?” you couldn’t help but ask, especially since this town was full of loads of seafood options and now you had to think of other restaurants for him to try.

Lando shrugged, taking another bite of his burger before answering. “I guess it’s just not my thing. I’ve never been a fan of the taste or the texture.”

As you indulged in your burger, a smear of sauce found its way to the corner of your lips. Lando's eyes caught the small detail, and with a gentle smile, he pointed it out. "You've got a little something right there."

You chuckled, raising your hand to wipe it away, but before you could, Lando's fingers grazed over the corner of your lips, wiping away the sauce. His touch was gentle, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary as he leaned in close.

A subtle warmth spread through you at the intimacy of the gesture, and for a moment, time seemed to slow as you met his gaze. There was something unspoken between you, a silent acknowledgment of the growing connection that seemed to deepen with each passing moment.

His fingers lingered at the edge of your lips, and you could feel his breath, warm and inviting, mingling with yours. The world around you faded, leaving only the two of you in that fleeting instant.

“Lando…” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. The space between you grew smaller, your faces inching closer together.

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes flicking down to your lips and back up to your eyes. The anticipation was electric, a charged moment that seemed to stretch on forever.

But then, he pulled back, a faint blush tinting his cheeks. “I don’t want our first kiss to be like this,” he murmured, his voice soft but resolute. “You deserve a proper date first.”

A mix of disappointment and warmth washed over you. His thoughtfulness, his desire to make things right, only made your heart ache more with affection. Amidst the laughter and shared stories, his words hung between you, a promise of something more.

As quickly as the thought arose, the weight of your illness pressed down on you, reminding you of life's fragility and the uncertainty of tomorrow. Your thoughts lingered on wondering if you even had a future in general. To entertain the idea of a future with him would only cause your heart to ache, knowing that you might not live to see those dreams come true.

The thought of a future, a proper date, a real kiss��all of it seemed so painfully out of reach.

It was a bittersweet realization, knowing that even the simplest of dreams could be overshadowed by the reality of your condition. While he would return back to the fast paced world of racing, you would remain in this small town, wondering how many more dreams you would have to crush because fate decided to take away your life, inch by inch.

Awkwardness filled the car on your end, your emotions shifting to cold and stoic, like they were before you met him. The warm connection you had felt only moments ago was replaced by a wall you erected to protect your heart. Lando noticed the change, his cheerful demeanor faltering as the silence grew heavy between you.

Soon enough, you both finished your burgers, and Lando started the car to drive you home. The ride was quiet, the earlier laughter and easy conversation now replaced by a tension that neither of you acknowledged. When he pulled up to your house, he turned off the engine and looked at you, a hint of concern in his eyes.

“Do you want me to walk you to the door?” he asked softly.

You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “No, it’s fine. Thanks for the evening, Lando.”

He watched as you climbed out of the car, a confused and worried expression on his face. As you walked to your door, you could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t look back. You shut the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment as a tear threatened to slip down your cheek.

Lando sat in his car, staring at the closed door, wondering what he had done wrong and why the evening had ended on such a somber note. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something important had changed, but he had no idea what it was or how to fix it.

—

Over the next couple of days, you don’t acknowledge the thoughts that are bubbling up in your mind, instead choosing to tread carefully and immerse yourself in your daily routine. You’ve lived a lot more than you have over the past couple of months, and felt the joy that it brings. But now, you had to face the consequences causing you to distance yourself away from Lando before you got too attached to the happiness that came with being around him. Once you realized that you truly wanted to kiss him that night, everything changed. You had to take a preemptive measure, a self-imposed boundary designed to shield your heart from potential pain.

Your health deteriorated significantly. Your energy waned, and simple tasks like walking around the house left you breathless and exhausted. Fortunately, you have a doctor’s appointment scheduled, a simple routine checkup. However, it coincided with plans you made with Lando. Determined to distance yourself from him, you don’t tell him about the change of plans.

At the doctor’s appointment, you sit in the sterile examination room, the familiar scent of antiseptic mingling with nerves that coil in the pit of your stomach. These appointments, routine yet crucial, serve as a barometer of your ongoing battle against your illness.

As the doctor enters, his expression is professional yet compassionate, his eyes scanning through your medical history with a practiced ease. You recount the recent symptoms you’ve been experiencing, the fatigue that seems to seep into your bones, and the persistent ache that lingers despite treatment.

With a sympathetic nod, the doctor orders a series of tests, his urgency palpable as he reviews your file. The minutes stretch into an eternity as you wait for the results, each passing second filled with a silent plea for a glimmer of hope.

When the test results finally come back, the doctor’s demeanor shifts subtly, his tone measured yet grave. “I’m afraid the results are not as we had hoped,” he begins, his words heavy with significance.

Your heart sinks at the confirmation of your worst fears, the reality of your illness casting a shadow over your hopes for improvement. Despite your best efforts, it seems that the tide of your health is turning against you once again.

A sense of dread fills you as he explains that the illness has advanced more rapidly than expected. “We need to keep you overnight for observation,” he says gently. “Your vitals are unstable, and we need to adjust your treatment plan.”

You nod, too emotionally tired to object, allowing a nurse to lead you to the hospital room, one that you became too familiar with over the past few years. You would spend yet another night under the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital, experience another round of tests and treatments, and take another uncertain step into the abyss of your illness.

You lie in the hospital bed, hooked up to various machines, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over you like a heavy blanket. The familiar beeps and hums of the medical equipment provide a disconcerting backdrop to your thoughts, each sound a reminder of the precariousness of your health.

As you drift in and out of consciousness, your mind wanders to Lando, the plans you had made together now nothing more than distant dreams. Guilt gnaws at the edges of your consciousness, knowing that he waits for you, unaware of the sudden turn your day has taken.

Just as the shadows of doubt threaten to overwhelm you, a soft knock on the door interrupts your thoughts. Startled, you turn to see Isaac's familiar face framed in the doorway, concern etched into his features.

"Hey," he says softly, crossing the room to sit beside you. "I got your text. Are you okay?"

You manage a weak smile, grateful for his presence amidst the sterile confines of the hospital room. "Yeah, just another setback," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Isaac reaches out to squeeze your hand gently, his touch a comforting anchor in the sea of uncertainty. "You’ll get through this," he says, his voice steady and reassuring.

As Isaac settles into the chair beside your hospital bed, he observes the flurry of activity around you—the nurses bustling about, the doctors conferring in hushed tones, tweaking the machines, their purpose still a mystery to him after all these visits.

When there's a lull in the commotion, Isaac hesitates before speaking, his voice soft with concern. "Hey, I wanted to let you know... Lando stopped by the cottage today."

“What’d he say?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

"He asked about you today," Isaac begins, his tone gentle. "Said you had plans but you didn't show. He mentioned he hasn't seen you in a couple of days. Is everything okay between you two?"

You nod weakly, offering a small smile to reassure Isaac. "Yeah, everything's fine. I just... I don't know, I guess I realized that I've been enjoying his company a lot more than I should, given my condition."

He frowns, “what’s wrong with that? You’re both happy around each other, so why are you distancing yourself away from him?”

You scoff, “have you seen me?” You raise your arm that has an IV inserted, along with the other wires connected to you.

“It doesn’t matter,” Isaac insists gently. “He cares about you. You deserve happiness too, regardless of what’s going on with your health.”

You shake your head, a hint of frustration in your voice. “You don’t understand, Isaac. I don’t have a guarantee of how I’m spending the next week, let alone the rest of my life. I don’t want to hurt Lando by snatching away his happiness one day too. I’m just… preventing myself, and him, from getting too attached to each other.”

Isaac sighs, his expression softening with understanding. "You're not scared of getting too attached, are you? You already are, whether you admit it or not. But by staying away, you're only hurting yourself and him more."

You avert your gaze, feeling the weight of his words sinking in. "I know," you admit quietly. "But I don't know what else to do."

"He deserves to know if he's falling in love with you," Isaac says gently, his voice filled with concern. "And you deserve to have someone by your side, especially during the tough times."

You let out a heavy sigh, knowing he's right but still unsure of what to do next. "I guess I did find someone that fate hates more than me."

"So you agree, that he's in love with you?" Isaac probes, searching your eyes for confirmation.

"He's only in love because he barely knows me," you reply, your voice tinged with sadness.

“Maybe you should give him a chance to know you, the real you,” he responds.

You bite your lip, unsure of how to respond. Deep down, you know Isaac is right, but the fear of hurting Lando is overwhelming. Yet, the thought of pushing him away hurts just as much.

Before you can dwell on it further, a nurse enters the room, breaking the momentary silence. Isaac gives you a reassuring smile before standing up to give you some privacy. As he leaves, his words linger in the air, leaving you to contemplate the complexities of your situation.

The next morning, you’re discharged, feeling even more drained. The doctors have adjusted your medications, but the prognosis remains grim.

You left the hospital, walking in step beside Isaac for a moment until he headed towards the parking lot to bring the car around. As you were blinking in the bright morning sunlight, you nearly collided with Max, who was just outside chatting with someone on his phone.

“Hey there!” Max greets you with a wide grin, sliding his phone into his pocket. However, his expression quickly turns into a frown as he notices the hospital wristband adorning your wrist. “Wait, were you in there?” he asks, concern lacing his words. “Is everything okay?”

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, not wanting to worry him unnecessarily or dive into the complexities of your recent hospital stay. “Oh, it was just a routine checkup, some bloodwork, you know how that goes, nothing to worry about,” you assure him with a tight-lipped smile.

Max’s eyes narrow slightly, clearly not entirely convinced by your explanation, but he decides not to press further.

He glances over his shoulder, then back at you. “I was just at the café right down the street.”

You nod, “good choice, they make the best coffee in town.”

He smiled as his choice was approved by you. “Do you need a ride? I’m heading back to the villa.”

You shook your head, “no it’s alright, Isaac’s bringing the car around.”

“Alright, I guess I’ll see you around, only a few more days left before we leave this paradise,” he reminds you.

You offer him a grateful nod. “Yeah, time flies, doesn’t it?” you reply with a forced smile since you were hoping to return home soon. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

As Max nods in agreement and starts to walk away, you can’t shake the feeling that he suspects something isn’t quite right. But you push the thought aside, determined to focus on the present moment and put on a brave face as you step away from the hospital and back into the world outside.

As Isaac parks in the driveway, you notice Lando pacing back and forth by the front door, his brows furrowed in concern. The sight of him fills you with a tumult of conflicting emotions. Isaac’s words echo in your mind, urging you to be honest with Lando, to tell him how much you care about him, to share the burden of your illness. But fear gnaws at your insides, whispering that revealing the truth will only drive him away.

His expression changes from relief to frustration as he sees you approaching.

“Where were you?” he demanded, his voice tinged with worry. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”

As you and Lando stand in front of each other, locked in a tense silence, Isaac takes a step back, sensing the need for privacy between you two. With a subtle nod, he heads inside the cottage, leaving you and Lando alone on the doorstep.

The weight of unspoken words hangs heavy in the air, suffocating you both with its palpable intensity. You struggle to find the right words to break the silence, to bridge the growing chasm between you, but fear and uncertainty grip you like a vice, paralyzing your tongue.

Lando shifts uncomfortably, his gaze flickering between you as if searching for answers in the depths of your eyes. His expression is a mix of hurt and confusion, mirroring the tumultuous storm raging within your own heart.

You want to tell Lando the truth, to let him in, but the thought of exposing your vulnerabilities terrifies you. You can’t bear the idea of him seeing you as fragile, of pitying you. So, holding your head up high, you decide to make him hate you before he realizes that he loves you.

You force a nonchalant shrug, trying to play it off. “I had some errands to run, and I forgot we had plans.”

“Forgot?” he repeats, incredulous. “We made those plans a while ago. Forget that, I haven’t seen you for days. What’s really going on?”

Annoyed, and wanting to distance yourself from him before your feelings grow even stronger, you let a hint of irritation seep into your voice. “I don’t owe you an explanation for everything I do, Lando. It’s not a big deal.”

He’s taken aback by your rudeness, his face falling slightly. “Not a big deal? I’ve been worried sick about you.”

“Well, you don’t need to be,” you say curtly, avoiding his eyes. “I can take care of myself.”

An awkward silence falls between you two, the tension palpable. Lando’s expression shifts from hurt to confusion. He takes a step back, clearly stung by your words.

“Fine,” he says quietly, his voice pained. “If that’s how you want it.”

You nod, turning away from him and heading inside, each step feeling heavier than the last. Lando stands outside for a moment longer, staring at the closed door. He can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to your abrupt change in behavior, but he respects your wish for distance. With a heavy heart, he turns and walks away, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the echo of the door closing between you

You lean against the door, quickly sliding down and sitting on the floor as you cover your face with your hands, fighting back tears.

Pushing him away is probably the hardest thing you’ve ever done, but you convince yourself it’s for the best.

Isaac spots you sitting on the floor, and quickly rushes towards you. Moving your hands away from your face, he notices the tears staining your cheeks and has an idea of how the conversation went with Lando.

"You're still as stubborn as ever, aren't you?" he remarked rhetorically, but then he enveloped you in his arms, holding you close as you trembled with sobs.

You pulled back slightly, sniffling as you tried to compose yourself. "I can't tell him," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rush of emotions.

Meanwhile, Lando trudged back to the villa, his mind heavy with thoughts and his heart weighed down by the encounter with you. When he arrived, Max was idly sitting around.

“Hey, mate,” Max greeted but his expression turned serious as he observed Lando’s demeanour. “You okay?”

Lando shrugged, sitting next to Max as he tried to brush off the weight of his emotions. “I saw her today.”

He nodded, “how’d it go?”

Lando frowned, furrowing his brows. “I don’t know, Max. That’s the thing. It’s like I saw a completely different person today. Someone I thought I knew, but now… she’s like a stranger.”

Max furrowed his brow, concerned. “What do you mean?”

Lando shook his head, struggling to find the right words. “I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like she was pushing me away, Max. Acting cold and distant, like she didn’t want anything to do with me.”

Max nodded in understanding. “Well, mate, maybe she’s just having a rough day. I mean, she was at the hospital earlier.”

His words caught Lando off guard. He blinked in surprise, his brows furrowing as he processed the information. “Wait, she was at the hospital?” he asked, a note of concern creeping into his voice.

Max nodded solemnly. “Yeah, I saw her leaving earlier today. Said it wasn’t serious, just a routine check up but she looked very tired, like she hadn’t slept properly in days.”

Lando’s concern deepened as he absorbed Max’s words. “Why didn’t she tell me?” he murmured, a mix of worry and frustration evident in his voice.

Max placed a comforting hand on Lando’s shoulder. “Maybe she just needs some space, mate. It’s not easy opening up about personal stuff, especially to someone you care about a lot.”

“You think she cares about me?” Lando asked, his tone almost a mumbling mess.

Max scoffed, “see I knew you were an idiot but not to this extent that you don’t even see the obvious. Of course she cares about you, mate!”

“Well I know that, it’s just I don’t wanna read into something that’s not there, you know?”

Max squeezed Lando’s shoulder reassuringly. “Trust me, mate, it’s there. Sometimes, we just need a little nudge to see what’s right in front of us.”

Lando nodded slowly, his mind still swirling with doubts and questions. “I guess you’re right,” he conceded, a faint glimmer of hope starting to flicker within him.

Max grinned, clapping him on the back. “That’s the spirit! Just give her some time, and I’m sure things will sort themselves out.”

The cottage exudes a somber atmosphere, suffused with memories of those initial days when you sought refuge from your parents' house, just across town. After your diagnosis, living with your parents became unbearable, evoking memories of your tumultuous teenage years, always feeling scolded and misunderstood. With persuasion and determination, you relocated to the cottage, that has always acted as a second childhood home, with your brother, longing for respite from the tumult of your parents' home. Eventually, your parents themselves moved to the next town over, seeking their own fresh start, leaving you and your brother to navigate the challenges of your illness in your quiet abode.

Now, as you sit in the same kitchen where you once grappled with the harsh reality of your illness, the mood is eerily similar. A strange sense of déjà vu washes over you as the silence in the cottage seems to press down, a stark contrast to the vibrant conversations and laughter that once echoed within these walls during your childhood summers. Even more palpably, you recall the warmth of recent memories, the shared laughter with Lando when you had twisted your ankle, filling the space with a joy that now feels distant and elusive. The air is thick with unspoken words, the tension palpable as if one wrong move could shatter the fragile peace you carefully built.

Isaac sits across from you, his presence comforting amidst the somber atmosphere. He watches you closely, his gaze filled with concern and understanding.

“Are you okay?” he asks, breaking the silence that hangs heavy between you.

You force a smile, but it feels hollow on your lips. “Just tired,” you reply, the words barely audible over the quiet hum of the refrigerator.

While Isaac may be aware of some of the pain you feel, he doesn’t know the full extent of what you’re enduring. You want to shield him from the worst, hiding just how much it hurts. The pain has been relentless, gnawing at you day and night, with only a brief sense of comfort for a few hours after taking your medication. Every movement feels like a struggle, every breath a reminder of the fragility of your condition.

Isaac studies your face, his eyes narrowing with concern. “You should call Mom and Dad,” he says softly, breaking the silence. “They need to know what’s going on. Your health is getting worse.”

You shake your head, the thought of burdening your parents with more bad news twisting your stomach into knots. “They’ve been hoping I’m getting better.”

Isaac sighs, reaching across the table to take your hand. “They’re gonna find out soon enough and they’ll want to be here for you, to support you. It’s better they hear it from you than from anyone else.”

You look down at your hands, Isaac’s warmth a stark contrast to the cold dread settling in your bones. “I just… I don’t want to shatter their hope again.”

Isaac squeezes your hand gently. “They love you. They’re not going to be disappointed in you. They’ll be worried, sure, but they need to know. You need all the support you can get.”

You nod slowly, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. “Okay,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I’ll call them.”

Isaac gives you a reassuring smile, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Good. We’ll get through this together. You’re not alone.”

You manage a hint of a smile, looking at Isaac. “You know,” you say softly, “you’re such a good older brother especially for someone who’s younger than me.”

Isaac chuckles, a warm, comforting sound in the quiet room. “Age is just a number,” he says, squeezing your hand gently. “Besides, someone has to keep you in line.”

“Keep me in line? I think we’ve switched roles, remember how I used to keep you out of trouble?” You remark.

You can feel the tension ease in the room as Isaac laughs at the memory before standing up to prepare dinner, allowing you to pick up your phone.

The thought of hearing your parents’ voices fills you with a mixture of fear and relief. You know Isaac is right, but the conversation ahead feels like another mountain to climb. Taking a deep breath, you dial the familiar number, bracing yourself for what’s to come. The phone rings, and with each passing moment, you feel the weight of the upcoming conversation pressing down on you.

Finally, your mother answers, her voice warm and familiar. “Hello, sweetie. It’s been a while since you called. How are you?”

You hesitate for a moment, trying to keep your voice steady. “Hi, Mom. I… I need to talk to you about something.”

There’s a pause, and you can hear the concern in her voice. “What is it, honey? Is everything alright?”

Before you can respond, she quickly switches to a video call. Her face appears on the screen, eyes wide with worry. “Tell me what’s going on,” she says, her voice trembling slightly.

Seeing her face makes it harder to hold back your emotions. You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. “Mom, I’ve been trying to stay strong and not worry you and Dad, but… my health has been getting worse.”

Her expression shifts from concern to fear and then to a hint of anger masking hurt. “Worse? How worse, dear? Are you not taking care of yourself properly?”

You wince at her words, knowing they come from a place of worry. “I stayed a night at the hospital,” you continue. “They said if it doesn’t get better with the new medication, I’ll have to go back. The pain has been relentless. I can barely move without feeling it, and the medication only helps for a few hours.”

Your mother’s face pales, her eyes filling with tears. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner? We’ve been hoping you were getting better.”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” you admit, your voice cracking. “I wanted to protect you from the worst of it.”

Your mother shakes her head, wiping away a tear. “We’re your parents. We want to be there for you, no matter what. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“I know,” you say, your own tears starting to fall. “It’s just so hard. Every day feels like a struggle, and I didn’t want to burden you.”

Isaac rounds the kitchen table and speaks up, his voice steady and supportive. “We’re all in this together, Mom. We need your support now more than ever.”

Your mother nods, her expression determined, though the hurt still lingers in her eyes. “We’ll be there for you, sweetheart. Every step of the way.”

Just then, she turns her head and calls out, “Honey, come here. It’s important.”

A moment later, your father appears on the screen, his face etched with concern. “What’s going on?”

Your mother explains quickly, her voice trembling. “She’s not doing well. She had to stay overnight at the hospital, and she might have to go back soon. We need to be there for her.”

Your father’s expression hardens with resolve. “We’ll come over soon. Don’t worry, just be careful.”

Hearing his firm, supportive words, you feel a sense of relief and hope. “I will, thank you, Dad. I love you both.”

“We love you too,” he replies, his voice full of emotion. “We’re here for you, no matter what.”

After exchanging goodbyes and promising to see each other soon, you hang up the phone, feeling a slight sense of relief wash over you. Though it's only temporary, the weight on your shoulders lifts ever so slightly.

As Isaac reveals dinner, the aroma of his culinary creation fills the air, tempting your senses with its savory goodness. But as you take a closer look at your own plate, disappointment washes over you. The food in front of you is bland and uninspiring, reminiscent of the tasteless hospital meals you’ve grown accustomed to.

You poke at your food with little enthusiasm, knowing that the increased dosage of medication has left your taste buds dulled and unresponsive. “I can’t eat this,” you mutter, pushing the plate away with a sigh.

Isaac looks up from his own meal, concern creasing his eyebrow. “Come on, you need to eat something,” he urges, his voice gentle but firm. “It’s important for your recovery.”

You shake your head, frustration bubbling up inside you. “But it tastes like nothing,” you protest, the monotony of the hospital diet weighing heavily on your spirit.

Isaac nods sympathetically, understanding your struggle. “I know it’s tough,” he says softly. “But remember what the doctor said about avoiding spice. It’s all part of the plan to help you get better.”

Reluctantly, you take a small bite, forcing yourself to chew and swallow despite the lack of flavor. The effort feels futile, but you know Isaac is right. You need to keep up your strength, even if it means enduring tasteless meals for the time being.

As you pick at your food, Isaac’s voice breaks through your thoughts, his tone lighthearted but determined. “Hey, once you’re feeling better, we’ll have a hot chicken wing contest,” he suggests, a playful twinkle in his eye. “Just like old times. And I promise, I’ll make them so spicy, you won’t be able to taste anything for a week.”

Despite yourself, a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. The idea of a hot chicken wing contest brings back memories of happier times, when your biggest worry was who would win the next round.

“Deal,” you agree, the idea of better days ahead spurring you on. But deep down, you know the truth that you can’t bring yourself to voice aloud in front of him again. You’re not getting better, no matter how much you wish you could.

The next day, you wake up with a sense of urgency gnawing at your insides, an inexplicable feeling pulling you towards the lighthouse. It’s as if an invisible force is guiding you, compelling you to make this journey one last time.

As you slip out of bed and prepare to leave the house, a mixture of determination and trepidation fills your heart. You know deep down that this might be the last opportunity you have to climb those stairs, to feel the wind on your face as you stand at the top and gaze out at the vast expanse of the ocean.

Isaac notices your movements and steps forward, concern etched into his features.

“Hey, where are you off to?” he asks, his voice gentle yet probing.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should share your intentions. But then, you meet his gaze and find solace in his familiar eyes.

“I’m going to the lighthouse,” you reply, your voice steady despite the weight of your words. “I just… need some time alone.”

Isaac’s expression softens, understanding dawning in his eyes. He reaches out to squeeze your shoulder gently, offering silent support.

“Take all the time you need,” he says softly. “And if you need anything, call me.”

With a grateful nod, you offer him a small smile before turning to leave, the weight of your decision heavy on your heart.

You make your way up the stairs to the lighthouse, each step feeling heavier than the last. The climb feels like an uphill battle, and you find yourself pausing every few steps to catch your breath.

Your chest heaves with the effort, and a wave of dizziness washes over you as you reach the halfway point. You lean against the railing, willing yourself to continue despite the fatigue that threatens to overwhelm you.

With each step, the distance between you and the top of the lighthouse seems to stretch on forever. Your muscles ache with exertion, and your breath comes in ragged gasps.

But you refuse to give up. You grit your teeth and push through the pain, focusing all your energy on reaching the summit. With each step, you draw closer to your goal, fueled by the determination to see the view from the top one last time.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you reach the top of the lighthouse, gasping for air, only to find Lando already there, leaning against the railing and gazing out at the horizon. He turns as he hears your footsteps and ragged breaths, surprise flickering across his face.

He takes a step back, clearly intending to give you some space. “I’ll go down,” he mutters awkwardly, gesturing towards the stairs. “This place is your spot.”

But before he can move away, you reach out and grab his hand, stopping him in his tracks. “No,” you say firmly, your voice stronger than you feel. “Stay.”

He hesitates for a moment, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, but then he nods and settles back against the railing, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart as you lean against the railing beside him. Despite the exhaustion that weighs heavily on you, being close to him brings a sense of comfort that you can’t quite explain.

“Thanks,” you murmur, grateful for his presence beside you.

He offers you a small, tentative smile in return, his hand tightening around yours in a silent gesture of support.

Taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you turn to Lando, feeling the weight of the unspoken tension between you two like a heavy blanket.

"Listen, I owe you an apology," you begin, your voice soft but sincere. "I've been acting... differently lately, and I want you to know that it's not because of anything you did. That day, I was at the hospital for a routine checkup, and it just tired me out more than I expected. I’m sorry about ditching our plans."

You technically didn’t lie, but also didn’t tell him the whole truth either. You pause, searching his face for any sign of understanding or acceptance. His expression softens, and you feel a flicker of relief.

"I shouldn't have been so rude to you," you continue, your tone earnest. "I appreciate your patience, and I'm sorry if I made you feel unwelcome."

Lando nods, his eyes reflecting empathy. "It's okay," he says gently, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. "I understand. And I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable by showing up here."

You shake your head, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "No, you don't need to apologize. I'm glad you're here."

With that, the tension between you starts to dissolve, replaced by a sense of mutual understanding and acceptance as you stand side by side, watching the waves crash against the shore below.

Taking a moment to admire the breathtaking view from the top of the lighthouse, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. But as the adrenaline of the climb begins to wear off, your legs start to tremble beneath you, threatening to give out at any moment.

Recognizing the warning signs of exhaustion, you carefully lower yourself to the ground, your muscles protesting with each movement. Sitting down with a heavy sigh of relief, you lean back against the cool stone wall of the lighthouse, grateful for the brief respite from the physical strain.

Lando joined you as well, sitting side by side on the floor of the lighthouse. You continue to hold onto his hand, your fingers tracing patterns absentmindedly. However, despite your attempt to clear the air, he still seems hesitant, his brows furrowed with confusion.

Finally, unable to bear the uncertainty any longer, Lando breaks the silence. “Hey, can I ask you something?” he begins, his voice tentative.

You turn to him, meeting his gaze with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. “Of course,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light despite the weight of the conversation.

He hesitates for a moment before plunging ahead. “Did something happen the night we went for burgers?” he asks, his words carefully measured. “I mean, you seemed off after… and I’ve been wondering if I did something wrong.”

Realization dawns on you that he’s talking about the almost kiss. The memory of that night floods back, the charged moment in his car when he had pulled back. You had admired his restraint, his desire to do things right, but it also made your heart ache with longing.

Your heart sinks at his words, the guilt weighing heavy on your chest. “No, Lando,” you assure him, squeezing his hand gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You glance at him, seeing the earnest concern in his eyes. How you wish you had the courage to pull him in by his collar and kiss him then, to let him know just how much he meant to you despite everything.

But he doesn’t seem convinced, his gaze searching yours for any sign of dishonesty. “Don’t lie,” he says softly, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration.

You hesitate, grappling with the weight of your own emotions and the truth you’re desperate to conceal. Part of you wants to tell him how much his presence means to you, how his laughter lights up even the darkest corners of your world. But fear holds you back, whispering cruel reminders of the inevitability of heartbreak both of you will experience.

Instead of answering his question, you take a deep breath and change the subject. “So, when are you leaving?” you ask, trying to divert his attention away from your own turmoil.

He furrows his brow, clearly surprised by the sudden shift in conversation but decides not to push for an answer. “Tomorrow,” he replies, a hint of sadness in his voice.

You offer him a small smile, “well, I hope you had a good time despite my lackluster tour guide skills,” you quip, attempting to lighten the mood.

He chuckles softly, the sound warm and genuine. “Meeting you was my favorite part,” he admits, his gaze unwavering as he meets your eyes. “Spending time with you, even if it wasn’t every day, made this trip unforgettable.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks at his admission, the warmth of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine. There’s a playful glint in his eyes that ignites a natural spark of flirtation between you.

In the quiet solitude of the lighthouse, you find yourself caught up in the moment with Lando, the days missed due to your own fear melting away with each shared smile and genuine laugh. Despite the lingering weight of your illness and the uncertainty that shadows your future, you're finally able to let go of the constant worry and embrace the present.

You realize that constantly dwelling on the unknown, on whether you'll have more time together or not, only serves to rob you of the joy of the moment. So instead, you allow yourself to be fully present with Lando, savoring each precious second together.

Yet, beneath the surface of your newfound acceptance, there still lingers a trace of fear. You know that distancing yourself from Lando won't protect either of you from the inevitable pain that lies ahead. His genuine smile, the way his eyes light up when he's with you, speaks volumes, and you can't deny the pull you feel toward him.

Despite the uncertainty of what the future holds, you're willing to take the risk, to open your heart to the possibility of love, even if it means facing the inevitable heartache that may follow. Because in the end, the fleeting moments of happiness you share with Lando are worth every ounce of pain.

Lando straightens up, his movements fluid and confident, as he leans in closer, a playful glint dancing in his eyes. "Hey, do you mind giving me your number and surname?" he asks casually, but there's a hint of mischief in his tone.

You raise an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "What are you going to do with that information?" you inquire, your curiosity piqued.

His smile widens, a charming grin that could melt anyone's heart. "Well, first so we can still stay in touch even if I’m on the other side of the world, and second so I can send you a pass for one of my races," he replies smoothly, his voice laced with playful charm.

You can't help but chuckle at his response, shaking your head in amusement. "And why would I come to your race?" you tease, enjoying the banter between you.

Lando's gaze softens, a warmth in his eyes that catches you off guard. "I think you might be my lucky charm," he admits, his tone sincere.

You pause, feeling a flutter of excitement mixed with uncertainty. "You believe in lucky charms?" you ask, a hint of skepticism in your voice.

He nods, his smile unwavering. "I didn't," he confesses, "but now it seems like a good time to start believing. Why are you asking so many questions?" he adds playfully, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You can't help but smile at his lighthearted demeanor, appreciating the way he effortlessly lightens the mood. "You don't want me as a lucky charm," you reply, a touch of self-doubt creeping into your voice.

Lando's expression softens, his gaze filled with genuine warmth. "Why not?" he counters, his tone gentle yet determined.

"It won't last long," you murmur, a pang of sadness tugging at your heart as you glance away.

He reaches out, gently tilting your chin to meet his gaze. "It'll last as long as you're by my side," he insists, his voice sincere and unwavering. "That is up to you, don't you think so?"

His words catch you off guard, stirring something deep within you. "Now who's asking lots of questions?" you tease, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Still you," he replies with a chuckle, his eyes twinkling with affection.

You shake your head, feeling a surge of warmth at his playful banter. "You're something else, Lando."

"So are you," he replies, his smile soft and genuine. "In the best way possible."

You oblige Lando’s request, typing your phone number into his phone and saving your full name in his contacts. It’s a small gesture, but one that feels significant in the moment, despite the fact that you know you’ll never take him up on the offer for a pass to his race.

As the sun casts its golden glow across the rugged coastline, you and Lando sit side by side, taking in the breathtaking view from the top of the lighthouse. The air is filled with the sounds of seagulls circling overhead and the distant rumble of waves crashing against the shore below.

Lando’s arm around your shoulders feels like a lifeline, grounding you in the present moment amidst the tumult of your thoughts and emotions. You find solace in his presence, a sense of calm washing over you as you soak in the warmth of the afternoon sun.

The playful banter and teasing remarks give way to a comfortable silence, allowing you both to simply be in each other’s company without the need for words. It’s a moment of quiet intimacy, where the weight of the world fades away and all that matters is the connection between you and Lando.

You lean into his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing and the reassuring strength of his arm around you. In this moment, surrounded by the beauty of nature and the warmth of Lando’s presence, you feel a sense of peace wash over you, knowing that whatever the future may hold, you’re grateful for this moment of shared serenity.

As you both prepare to descend the stairs, Lando pauses, noticing your reluctance to leave the view behind. "Shouldn't I be the one lingering back to admire the horizon? After all, I'm the one leaving, not you," he quips with a playful smirk.

You chuckle at his remark, shaking your head in amusement. "Come on, Lando, don't act like you're the only one who appreciates a good view," you tease back, nudging him lightly.

He grins, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before turning back to the scenery. "Fair point," he concedes, his tone light and playful. “I’ll wait for you downstairs then.”

You nod, watching him make his way down the stairs. The gentle breeze ruffles your hair, and you take a deep breath, committing the scene to memory.

With a sense of purpose, you scan the area, searching for the perfect spot to leave your message. Your eyes alight on a small alcove tucked away in a corner, sheltered from the wind and hidden from plain sight. It’s a secluded nook, easily overlooked by passersby, but will be found if it’s searched for.

Slipping something into the alcove, you ensure it’s nestled securely among the shadows, a subtle gesture meant for only the most observant of visitors. With a satisfied nod, you turn to follow Lando down the stairs.

—

The following day is a whirlwind of activity as your parents arrive at the cottage. They come bearing an array of supplies and comforts, ready to pamper you with their love and attention.

"Sweetheart, we brought some of your favorite homemade meals," your mom chirps, bustling into the kitchen with bags of groceries in tow.

Your dad follows closely behind, a stack of freshly laundered blankets in his arms. "And I made sure to pack extra blankets in case you get chilly," he adds with a warm smile.

Isaac turns to your mother, his expression gentle yet concerned. “Just a heads up, she can’t have any spicy food because of the doctor’s orders,” he explains, hoping to avoid any culinary mishaps.

“Isaac, don’t ruin it,” you mutter, holding the tupperware filled with your favourite dishes.

Your dad, overhearing the conversation, interjects with a reassuring pat on Isaac’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, son. Your mother has spent many hours in the kitchen cooking up a storm for our girl here,” he says with a fond smile. “A little taste of home can work wonders for the soul.”

You can't help but smile at their fussing, feeling a mixture of gratitude and guilt at their doting gestures. "How long are you planning to stay?" you inquire, trying to gauge the extent of their visit.

"Until you're better, of course," your mom replies without hesitation, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Throughout the day, your parents dote on you, attending to your every need with unwavering devotion. They fluff pillows, brew tea, and fuss over you as if you were a child again, and despite the sadness that tugs at your heart, you find solace in their presence.

As evening falls and the cottage is filled with the aroma of home-cooked meals, you can't help but feel a pang of bittersweet nostalgia. These moments of familial closeness are precious, and you savor each one, knowing deep down that they may be fleeting.

Amidst the cozy atmosphere that had filled your cottage, a sudden realization dawns on you. Today is the day Lando is leaving, and with the flurry of activity happening throughout the day, you had almost forgotten.

Abandoning your dinner mid-bite, you quickly put on a pair of shoes, your heart pounding with urgency. As you rush towards the door, your parents pause in their fussing, exchanging puzzled glances as they notice your abrupt departure.

“Where are you going?” your mom asks, concern etched in her voice.

You pause in the doorway, a sense of determination driving you forward. “I have to see Lando,” you reply, your words rushed and breathless.

As you disappear out the door, your parents turn to your brother, confusion evident in their expressions. “Who’s Lando?” your dad asks, his brow furrowed in bewilderment.

Isaac sighs, shaking his head as he meets their gaze. “He’s the one she’s in love with,” he explains softly, a hint of sadness in his voice. “But I’m not sure if she’s ready to accept it yet.”

As you reach the villa, your breath comes in ragged gasps, each inhale becoming a struggle. Pain pulses through your chest with every heartbeat, but you refuse to let it slow you down. Adrenaline surges through your veins, driving you forward with an urgency born of raw emotion.

Your eyes scan the scene before you, taking in the sight of Max hurriedly loading the car with his and Lando’s bags. The trunk is nearly full, a testament to the impending departure that looms over you like a storm cloud. You feel a knot form in your stomach, a sense of panic seizing hold of you as you realize that time is slipping away.

Then, amidst the chaos, you spot Lando emerging from the villa, his expression one of surprise and concern as he catches sight of you. His brow furrows in confusion, his eyes searching yours for an explanation.

Without hesitation, you push yourself forward, your feet carrying you towards him with a desperate urgency. With trembling hands, you reach out to him, your fingers brushing against his arm before wrapping around him in a tight embrace. His warmth envelops you, a comforting anchor amidst the storm raging within you. For a fleeting moment, the pain in your chest eases, replaced by a sense of peace that only he can provide.

For a long moment, you simply hold onto each other, the world around you fading into insignificance as you find solace in each other’s arms. The weight of unspoken words hangs heavy between you, the truth lingering on the tip of your tongue, waiting to be unleashed.

As you finally pull away, a silent understanding passes between you, a shared acknowledgment of the depth of your connection. Lando’s gaze searches yours, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and affection, silently asking if you’re okay.

You manage a faint smile, though it feels fragile on your lips. “I just had to see you before you left,” you confess softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His expression softens, a warmth in his eyes that speaks volumes. “I’m glad you came,” he replies, his voice gentle and reassuring.

You linger for a moment longer, drinking in the sight of him, committing every detail to memory. Then, with a heavy heart, you reluctantly release him, knowing that time is running short.

As Lando returns to help Max with the bags, you watch him go, a sense of longing tugging at your heart.

Once everything was packed up, Lando and Max walked towards you, their footsteps echoing on the gravel driveway. Max reaches you first, his face lit with a warm smile. Without hesitation, he pulls you into a brief, friendly hug.

“Thanks for the good company,” Max says, his voice full of genuine gratitude. “And for keeping Lando’s mood up throughout this trip. You’ve been a real lifesaver.” He chuckles, the sound infectious, and you can’t help but laugh along with him.

“Anytime,” you reply, your smile widening. “It’s been fun having you both around.”

Max steps back, giving Lando space to step forward. Lando’s eyes meet yours, and there’s a depth of emotion there that makes your heart skip a beat. He takes your hands in his, holding them gently as if afraid you might disappear.

“This isn’t goodbye,” Lando says softly, his tone filled with a mixture of hope and determination. “Just a ‘see you later,’ alright?”

You nod, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “See you later,” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling with emotion.

Lando pulls you into a tight embrace this time, his arms wrapping around you protectively. You breathe in his familiar scent, the comfort of his presence grounding you in the moment.

He pulls back slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders as he searches your face. “Don’t think I forgot about giving you a pass,” he says with a small, teasing smile. “I’ll be waiting for you at the race.”

You smile through the tears that threaten to spill over. “We’ll see.”

Max claps Lando on the back, breaking the emotional moment. “Come on, mate, we’ve got a plane to catch.”

With one last look, Lando releases you and heads towards the car. You watch them drive away, a mix of sadness and hope swirling within you. The ache in your chest grows, but you try to push it aside, focusing on ways to fulfill the promise of seeing him again.

As you start walking back home, the exertion from earlier catches up to you. Your breath becomes labored, each step feeling heavier than the last. A sharp pain radiates through your chest, and you find yourself struggling to stay upright. Determined to make it back to the cottage, you push on, but every movement is a reminder of your body’s limitations.

By the time you reach the door, you’re barely holding on. You collapse onto the porch steps, gasping for breath, the world around you blurring as you fight to stay conscious. Moments later, the door swings open, and Isaac is there, his face pale with worry.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, rushing to your side. His voice sounds distant, echoing in your ears.

You try to speak, but the words get caught in your throat. Instead, you manage a weak nod, though it’s clear you’re far from okay.

Isaac doesn’t waste another second. He scoops you up in his arms, carrying you inside. “Mom! Dad!” he calls out, his voice frantic. “Something’s wrong. We need to get her to the hospital.”

Your parents appear almost instantly, their faces a mixture of fear and determination. Your dad grabs the car keys while your mom hurries to gather your things, her hands shaking.

In the car, you drift in and out of consciousness, the pain and exhaustion overwhelming you. Your mom holds your hand tightly, whispering soothing words that barely register. Isaac drives with a grim focus, the worry in his eyes reflected in the rearview mirror.

At the hospital, the staff quickly takes over, whisking you away on a stretcher. Your family is left in the waiting room, their anxious faces a blur as you’re rushed through the halls.

As the doctors and nurses work to stabilize you, you catch fleeting thoughts of Lando, Max, and the brief, bright moments you shared. The reality of your condition settles in, and you realize just how fragile your hope had been.

The doctors stabilize you for now, but you wake to the sound of your mother's soft cries in the room. Her face is buried in your father's shoulder, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. Your father is holding her close, his eyes red and puffy, a grim expression etched on his face. Isaac stands nearby, his jaw clenched, trying to hold himself together.

You blink, the fluorescent lights above casting a harsh glow on the stark white walls. A doctor stands at the foot of your bed, looking somber. You catch bits and pieces of his words, the clinical detachment in his voice contrasting sharply with the raw emotion in the room.

"...best if she doesn’t return home... too weak... last days in the hospital..."

The full weight of the words crashes over you, and a sense of helplessness fills your heart. You try to speak, but your throat is dry, and the words come out as a rasp. "Mom? Dad?"

Your mother's head snaps up at the sound of your voice, and she rushes to your side, taking your hand in hers. "Oh, sweetheart," she whispers, tears streaming down her face. "We're here. We're right here."

Your father moves closer, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "We won't leave your side," he promises, his voice steady despite the tears in his eyes.

Isaac approaches the bed, his usual bravado stripped away. "Hey," he says softly, trying to muster a smile. "We’re all here for you."

You swallow hard, trying to process the reality of the situation. "How long?" you manage to ask, your voice barely a whisper.

The doctor steps forward, his expression compassionate. "It’s hard to say for certain," he admits gently. "But we’ll do everything we can to keep you comfortable."

You nod, a mixture of fear and resignation settling over you. Your mother's sobs have quieted, but the sorrow in her eyes is unmistakable. "I’m so sorry," you whisper, feeling a pang of guilt for putting them through this.

"No, don’t apologize," your father says firmly, squeezing your shoulder. "This isn’t your fault. We’re just grateful to be here with you."

Your family’s presence brings a small measure of comfort, but the reality of your condition is a heavy burden. You look around at their faces, trying to memorize every detail, every expression. The room feels both claustrophobic and infinite, the moments stretching out like a fragile thread.

As the night wears on, you find solace in their presence. Your mother hums softly, stroking your hair, while your father reads to you from a book you loved as a child. Isaac sits by the window, watching the night sky, his expression pensive.

You know that the days ahead will be difficult, but for now, you take comfort in the love that surrounds you. The hospital room, with its sterile walls and beeping machines, becomes a sanctuary of sorts, a place where you can hold on to the precious moments with your family, no matter how fleeting they may be.

—

The sterile scent of the hospital room is overwhelming, the beeping of the machines a constant reminder of the deteriorating state of your health. The wires and tubes attached to your body are a constant presence, their weight both physical and symbolic. The medication dulls the pain, but it also leaves you in a fog, half-aware of the world around you.

Isaac sits by your bedside, his expression a mix of forced cheerfulness and hidden sorrow. He tries to make you laugh, telling stories and cracking jokes, but there’s an underlying tension in his voice.

You take a shaky breath and glance at Isaac. “So, this is it, huh?” you say with a dry laugh, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the sadness in your voice.

He looks at you, the forced cheerfulness slipping from his face. “Still laughing?” he asks, his voice quivering.

“If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I don’t want that to be the last expression you remember me by.”

Isaac’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. “Remember when you said that you weren’t able to be a proper older sister to me ever since you got diagnosed?” he asks softly. “That’s wrong. You still were because you powered through every moment of pain on your own. Even now, you’re as selfless as ever.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and you swallow hard. “I got a taste of how it feels to be selfish recently,” you confess, your voice trembling. “To see what you want right there in front of you, waiting for you to take it, but I almost got too attached to it that fate had to rip it away from me again.”

“Are you talking about Lando?” Isaac asks gently, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, the memories of your brief time with Lando flooding back, a bittersweet ache in your chest. “Life is so cruel, so fickle,” you say, your voice barely audible. “When I finally accepted my fate, it flipped and gave me a chance to be happy, to fall in love, to live like I’ve never done before. When I experienced it all, it just made me greedy. I wanted to keep living like that. But I won’t be able to because in a moment, it’s taken away again.”

Isaac squeezes your hand, his grip warm and reassuring. “You deserved every moment of happiness,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “And you brought happiness to those around you, too. Remember that.”

The days pass in a blur of medical checks, whispered conversations, and the quiet hum of machines. Your parents come and go, their faces lined with worry but always offering words of comfort and love.

Then comes Sunday, one that’s special for you because it’s also race day.

The hospital room is dim, illuminated only by the soft glow of the television screen mounted on the wall. The muted hum of machines and the occasional beep provide a constant backdrop to your labored breathing. Your family surrounds you, their presence a source of comfort even as your strength wanes. The room is filled with an unspoken tension, a fragile hope that somehow, you might find the strength to hold on a little longer.

Earlier in the day, you had pleaded with the nurses to let you watch the race. “Please,” you whispered, your voice weak but determined. “I just want to see him race one last time.”

The nurses had exchanged glances, their expressions softening. “Alright,” one of them had said gently. “We’ll make sure you can watch it.”

Now, the vibrant colors of the Formula 1 race contrast sharply with the sterile white of the hospital room. Lando’s car, resplendent in its sleek orange design, zips around the track with an elegance and speed that seems almost otherworldly. The commentator’s voice crackles with excitement as they describe the race in vivid detail.

“And Lando Norris takes the lead! He’s showing incredible skill out there today, really pushing the limits of his car and his own abilities. The crowd is going wild!”

You try to focus on the race, on the laps ticking by, the thrill of each turn, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult. Your vision blurs, the lines between the real and the surreal beginning to merge. Every breath is a struggle, each one more labored than the last.

Your mother sits by your side, her hand gently stroking your hair, her eyes red-rimmed but determined to stay strong. Your father stands at the foot of the bed, his face etched with lines of worry and sorrow. Isaac holds your hand, his grip firm and reassuring, his eyes never leaving your face.

You gather your remaining strength, turning your head slightly to look at Isaac. “Can you give him a message for me?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper, each word a struggle.

Isaac leans closer, his face etched with concern and determination. “What do you want to say?” he asks gently, his eyes locked onto yours, ready to carry your words to Lando.

You pause, the weight of the moment settling over you. With great effort, you manage to form the words that have been in your heart. “Tell him… tell him that he made me believe in living life again. That he gave me something beautiful in my last days. And… and that I’ll always be cheering for him, even if I’m not there.”

Isaac’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, and he nods, his voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes. “I will. I promise.”

On the television, Lando navigates the sharp turns of the track with precision and grace. The roar of the engines and the thrill of the race create a stark contrast to the quiet, somber atmosphere of your room. The commentator’s voice booms with excitement.

“Norris is extending his lead! This could be his race if he keeps up this pace. The team must be thrilled with his performance!”

On the Formula 1 track, the atmosphere is electric. Lando sits in his car, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He can feel every vibration of the engine, every nuance of the track. The pit crew buzzes with activity, their movements synchronized and efficient. Over the radio, his engineer’s voice provides updates and encouragement.

“You’re doing great, Lando. Keep this up and the win is yours.”

Lando nods inside his helmet, his focus razor-sharp. The crowd’s cheers blend into a singular wave of energy that propels him forward. He pushes the car to its limits, every fiber of his being dedicated to the race.

Back in the hospital, your breathing becomes more labored, and your family’s concern deepens. Your mother’s voice breaks as she hums softly, a lullaby from your childhood. Isaac squeezes your hand, his own tears finally breaking free.

“I love you,” you whisper, the words a final, heartfelt goodbye.

“We love you too,” Isaac responds, his voice choked with emotion. “More than anything.”

On the track, Lando crosses the finish line, the checkered flag waving triumphantly. The crowd erupts into a frenzy of cheers and applause. The commentator’s voice is almost drowned out by the noise.

“Lando Norris wins the race! What an incredible performance!”

In the paddock, Lando is overwhelmed with joy, the culmination of his efforts and dedication. He pulls off his helmet, his face breaking into a wide smile as he celebrates with his team. He can’t wait to share the victory, to tell you about the race, to see the look of pride in your eyes.

You watch from the hospital room, as Lando stands on the podium, lifting the trophy high, a sense of accomplishment filling him. A smile graces your lips, noticing the pure joy on his face. Then, you close your eyes, the vision of Lando’s smile still fresh in your mind.

Time stands still. As the world fades around you, your family holds you close, their whispered goodbyes blending into a chorus of love and sorrow. The light in your eyes dims, and with one last, labored breath, you slip away into a place beyond suffering.

As soon as the machine flatlines, the piercing sound of the monitor cuts through the room, signaling the end. Your mother's cries shatter the silence, raw and heart-wrenching. She grips your hand with desperate strength, her knuckles turning white, as if her hold on you could somehow bring you back.

"No, no, please!" she sobs, her voice cracking with each word. Tears stream down her face, her body trembling with the force of her grief. She shakes you gently at first, then more insistently, refusing to accept the finality of it. "Wake up, please wake up!"

Your father stands by her side, his own face etched with anguish. He places a hand on her shoulder, trying to offer support, but his own tears betray his stoic exterior. Isaac, standing a little apart, is frozen in shock, his eyes wide and uncomprehending as he watches the scene unfold.

The room is filled with the oppressive weight of sorrow, the air heavy with the collective grief of your family. The nurses, having done all they could, step back to give your family space, their own expressions somber and respectful.

Your mother’s cries grow louder, a desperate plea to a reality that feels too cruel to be true. She holds your hand to her cheek, her tears wetting your skin as she rocks back and forth. "Please, don’t leave us," she whispers, her voice breaking. "We need you."

The doctor steps forward, his face grave, and gently places a hand on your mother’s arm. "I’m so sorry for your loss," he says quietly, his words sincere but powerless against the tidal wave of their grief.

The only reality that matters is the unbearable pain of losing you, and the impossible task of trying to say goodbye.

On the top step of the podium, Lando basks in the glow of victory, the thrill of the race still pulsing through him. But amidst the celebration, a nagging feeling tugs at him, a sense that something is missing. A bittersweet undercurrent flows through his triumph.

Unbeknownst to him, a message of love and gratitude is on its way, bridging the distance between the track and the hospital room, connecting two hearts in a moment that transcends time and space.

Suddenly, your phone rings, the shrill sound cutting through the flatline beeping on the monitor. Each ring echoes through the room like a mournful dirge. Isaac’s hand hovers over the device, his heart pounding in his chest as he hesitates to answer. But when the call comes again, he knows there’s no escaping the inevitable.

With trembling fingers, he accepts the call, the voice on the other end sending a shiver down his spine. “Were you watching the race? I told you that you are my lucky charm.”

Isaac’s breath catches in his throat, his eyes welling with tears at the bitter irony of Lando’s words. He struggles to find the strength to respond, his voice choked with emotion. “Lando… it’s Isaac.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence on the other end of the line, followed by a tremor of uncertainty in Lando’s voice. “Isaac? What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

Isaac’s heart clenches at the desperation in Lando’s voice, his own grief threatening to consume him. “She’s gone, Lando,” he manages to choke out, his voice breaking with sorrow. “My sister… she’s gone.”

The words hang heavy in the air, a painful reminder of the cruel twist of fate that has robbed them of their happiness. Lando’s breath hitches, his voice barely a whisper as he responds. “No… no, that can’t be true. Tell me you’re lying, tell me this is some sick joke please”

Isaac’s heart aches as he hears the disbelief and anguish in Lando’s voice. He wishes he could erase the truth, to shield Lando from the devastating reality they now face. But there’s no escaping it, no denying the painful truth that hangs between them like a heavy shroud.

“I wish I could, Lando,” Isaac murmurs, his own voice choked with sorrow. “I wish this was just a sick joke, but… but she’s really gone.”

There’s a long, agonizing pause, broken only by the sound of Lando’s ragged breathing on the other end of the line. Isaac can imagine the turmoil raging within him, the crushing weight of grief threatening to overwhelm him entirely. He relays the message that you had for him, only hearing Lando breathing heavily in response.

As Lando stands there, clutching the phone that brought him devastating news, the world around him seems to blur into a haze of incomprehensible grief. The congratulations from his fellow drivers fall on deaf ears, their voices distant and muffled as if coming from a far-off place. Daniel, Carlos, George—all of them offer their heartfelt congratulations, their smiles genuine, but Lando can't bring himself to respond.

He feels disconnected, as if he's merely a spectator watching his own life unfold from a distance. The cameras flash around him, capturing the jubilant celebrations of victory, but Lando feels nothing but a hollow emptiness gnawing at his soul.

Unable to bear the facade any longer, Lando excuses himself from the crowd, retreating to the sanctuary of his driver's room. Once alone, the weight of his grief crashes over him like a tidal wave, threatening to drown him in its depths.

With a gut-wrenching scream, Lando releases the pent-up anguish that has been building inside him since the moment he received that fateful call. He falls to his knees, his body racked with sobs as he grapples with the cruel twist of fate that has torn his world apart.

In that moment of agonizing despair, Lando feels utterly alone, lost in a sea of grief with no shore in sight. The victory he had worked so hard for feels meaningless now, a hollow triumph overshadowed by the devastating loss of someone he held dear.

As the echoes of his cries fade into the silence of the empty room, Lando finds himself consumed by a profound sense of despair. In the midst of his greatest triumph, he is confronted with the harsh reality of mortality, and it is a bitter pill to swallow.

Alone in his hotel room, Lando’s victory feels hollow amidst the empty silence that surrounds him. Instead of celebrating with the fanfare of music, alcohol, and camaraderie that would be expected after such a result, he finds himself throwing his belongings haphazardly into his suitcase, his movements mechanical and devoid of purpose.

The room feels suffocating, the weight of grief pressing down on him like a physical force. With a sense of urgency, Lando hastily gathers his things, his hands trembling as he zips up his suitcase.

As he exits the hotel, he fires off a text to his manager, explaining the situation briefly, typing through his clouded vision full of more unshed tears.

Lando chooses not to drive, the mere thought of operating a vehicle feeling like an insurmountable task. Instead, he hails a taxi, his mind consumed by thoughts of you and the gaping void left in your absence.

The taxi driver casts him a curious glance as he climbs into the backseat, his tear-streaked face a stark contrast to the typical fare. But Lando pays no mind to the stares, his thoughts consumed by the overwhelming grief that threatens to consume him.

Throughout the journey to the airport, Lando’s tears continue to flow unabated, his heart weighed down by the magnitude of his loss. He feels adrift, lost in a sea of pain and sorrow, unsure of how to navigate the tumultuous waters of his emotions.

Lando finds himself grappling with conflicting emotions as he boards the plane back to the town filled with memories of you. Despite the overwhelming pain of revisiting every corner suffused with reminders of your presence, he knows deep down that he cannot stay away.

The thought of pretending that everything is fine when it's not feels like a betrayal of the love you shared, a denial of the profound impact you had on his life. And so, with a heavy heart and a mind clouded by grief, Lando embarks on the journey back to the place where his heart still lingers, knowing that he must confront the pain head-on in order to find a semblance of peace.

Lando’s return to town is marked by exhaustion and dishevelment, the toll of a sleepless night evident in the shadows beneath his eyes and the weariness etched into his features. He barely manages to greet Isaac before retreating to the solitude of the lighthouse, seeking solace in the familiar embrace of its quiet sanctuary.

As Lando stands at the top of the lighthouse, his gaze fixed on the horizon, he can't shake the feeling of déjà vu that washes over him. The flickering beam of the lighthouse casts eerie shadows against the walls, the only sound the mournful cry of seagulls in the distance. It's as if he's been transported back in time, to a moment frozen in history, when tragedy and loss hung heavy in the air.

Tears stream down his cheeks, his sobs echoing in the empty space around him as he allows himself to surrender to the overwhelming tide of emotion.

In the stillness of the lighthouse, Lando is consumed by a sense of profound loss, his heart aching with the absence of the one he longs for. He sits there for hours, his thoughts consumed by memories of you, his soul yearning for the warmth of your presence.

In the dim light, Lando recalls the story you once shared with him, of the tragic love that had unfolded within these very walls decades ago. A woman, waiting faithfully for her lover's return, had spent countless nights standing vigil at the top of the lighthouse, her heart filled with hope and longing. But as the years passed and her lover failed to return, her hope turned to despair, her love transformed into bitter regret.

Now, as Lando stands in the same spot, he can't help but draw parallels between that long-ago tragedy and his own situation. Like the woman of the story, he finds himself clinging to a glimmer of hope, praying for a miracle that may never come. In his heart, he still holds onto the belief that you'll come back to him, that the news of your loss is just a bad dream from which he'll soon awaken.

With each passing moment, however, the harsh reality of your absence becomes more pronounced, the weight of grief bearing down on him like a leaden cloak. Yet, despite the pain that threatens to consume him, Lando refuses to give up hope. He remains steadfast in his vigil, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of your return, his heart yearning for the moment when he'll finally see you again.

His gaze sweeps over every corner of the lighthouse, wanting to etch every detail into his memory. The soft glow of the fading sunlight filters through the windows, casting a warm golden hue over the space. He takes a deep breath, trying to imprint the scent of saltwater and sea breeze into his mind.

As he moves around, his eyes fall upon a small alcove tucked away in a corner, hidden from plain sight. Something tugs at his instincts, urging him to investigate further. With cautious curiosity, he steps closer, his heart pounding in anticipation.

Reaching into the alcove, his fingers brush against something smooth and delicate. He pulls out a folded piece of paper, his breath catching in his throat as he realizes what it is. With trembling hands, he unfolds the note, his eyes scanning the words written in your handwriting.

Lando, I hope this note finds its way to you. It's strange how emotions can turn even the fearless into cowards. I couldn't bring myself to give you this letter in person, so I'm leaving it here, hoping it reaches you. I'm guessing you already know the truth, and that I'm no longer here by your side.

As he reads those words, he can hear your voice in his mind. The acknowledgment that you couldn't face him in person fills him with a mix of sadness and understanding. He feels a pang of guilt, wondering if there was something he could have done differently to make you feel more comfortable sharing your feelings with him.

I don’t think a mere ‘I’m sorry’ is enough for keeping the truth from you. The reason why I did is because every moment with you felt like a dream, and in my dreams, my illness never existed. I’ve always cursed fate for the shitty hand it dealt me but I never would’ve gotten a chance to live something close to the perfect life if it wasn’t for fate.

A melancholic smile tugs at his lips as he reflects on the sentiment expressed in your words. Each moment spent with you had indeed felt like a dream, a precious respite from the relentless demands of the racing world.

Before you came to town, I felt like a living corpse, waiting for my illness to take me under, but when I met you, it gave me a purpose to look forward to the next day. Being your tour guide, although I think it was because you just wanted to spend time with me, was probably the most I’ve lived ever since I was diagnosed. While I used your presence as an excuse to live like I used to, I didn’t ever imagine falling in love with anyone, much less a British racing driver.

A wave of emotions wash over him as he reads your heartfelt confession, his own heart aching with a mixture of sadness and longing. Tears blur his vision as he continues reading, slightly tracing over your words with his finger.

I wish I had the courage to say this to you face to face, to witness your reaction and perhaps hear you say the words back. But one thing I admire about you is your ability to live in the moment. So, in this moment, I want to tell you that I love you, Lando Norris, even though I'm no longer by your side. I hope our memories bring a smile to your face, just as they did to mine.

Please, don’t blame yourself for any of this. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. You're the reason I found joy again, laughter again. Lando, you brought me back to life. Thank you. I'll love you always.

- Your favourite tour guide

As he reaches the final words of the note, he clutches it to his chest, feeling your presence close to him. In that moment, amidst the quiet solitude of the lighthouse, Lando finds a fleeting sense of peace amidst the storm of his emotions. He knows that no matter what the future holds, your love will always remain a guiding light in his heart.

With tears streaming down his cheeks, he whispers a silent promise to you, his beloved tour guide, into the salty breeze surrounding your favourite place. “I’ll never forget you. I’ll carry your love with me, always.”

Then he adds with a sob wracking through his body, “I love you too.”

As he sits in the lighthouse, Lando no longer waits for your return. Yet, he feels your love enveloping him, every word of the note etched into his heart. Though you may be gone, your presence lingers, filling the space around him with warmth and tenderness. In that moment, he finds solace in the memories of your love, knowing that you'll always be with him, no matter where life takes him.

Taglist: @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @xjval @namjoonswaifu @isabellewinchester @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @mehrmonga @nikfigueiredo @wonnou @jointhehunt67 @sya-skies @dreamingonbed @oliviah-25 @heylookwhoitis @unabashedkoalawasteland @inejghafawifesblog @poppyflower-22 @charizznorizz @booksandflowrs @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @randomnessis-mine-me @whatever7justchillin @kagome45 @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @timmy-wife1 @writtenbykirs @lew444 @kansas-kisses @barackosteaa @hellof-1 @itsbwokenln4 @nixily @reengard @candyeollies @customsbyjcg-blog @heeseungthel0ml @sweate-r-weathe-r @mattymybeloved @saturnbloom77 @ltotheucyy @ironmaiden1313

#thef1diary fic #lando norris x you #lando norris fic #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris angst #lando norris fluff #f1 angst #f1 fluff #f1 imagines #f1 series #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #angst #fanfic

357 notes · View notes

henry7931 · 1 day

Text

Beach Trip As My Friend’s Uncle

Miguel:

This is by far the best idea Zach and I have ever had! A few weeks ago, my best bud Zach begged his parents to let me come on their family beach trip but unfortunately they wanted to keep it a family trip.

That’s when Zach and I got a little creative. We decided to ask his cool Uncle Derek if I could swap bodies with him for a week. Now Derek isn’t your ordinary uncle, he’s pretty adventurous, single, likes to party, and is always down for some shenanigans. So when we asked if he’s willing to swap with me, he immediately said yes! He seemed to be just as excited to be me since he’s getting out of the family trip all together.

So we all met up that morning at Derek’s place. Zach already told his parents that he’s riding down with Derek. And when I arrived Derek already had a bag packed for me.

We quickly swapped bodies and it felt so cool being so much bigger.

I grinned at Derek in my body who also looked super happy. He pulled me in for a hug which felt so weird, I could have easily picked my body up like it was nothing.

As I hop into Derek’s nice truck, he says to us, “You boys have fun! And doing anything too crazy in my body!”

“Thanks Uncle Derek!” said Zach.

“Yes thanks again Derek, I’ll take good care of your body I promise!”

“Good and hey I packed condoms just in case things get too crazy. Don’t need my body coming back with anything.”

Zach rolls his eyes while I felt a warm sensation in my stomach. It just hit me that not only do I have Derek’s body for a week but I also have control of his massive package.

We get on the road and I pull off Derek’s shirt just to show off his tattooed pecs.

Zach’s sitting next to me so excited and says, “God this is so crazy! I mean look at you dude you’re inside my uncle right now.”

“I know man, this is about to be the best trip ever!”

When we arrive to the resort, Zach and I head to check in. We run into his family. We say our hellos to everyone and I’m surprised by how good of a job I’m doing at pretending to be Derek.

We get our room keys and head up. The room is huge! We even have our own bathrooms along with a balcony.

I put Derek’s bags on the bed and open them up to see what clothes Derek packed for me. But when I get to the bathing suits only two of them are normal ones— the rest are all speedos.

Zach pops in already in his bathing suit and says, “you about ready?”

“Uh no not yet give me a few,” I say to him.

“No rush bro! I’m gonna head down, I’ll see you in a few.”

As soon as Zach walked out of the room, I immediately got naked.

I look at Derek’s nude body, that’s when my eyes focus on the thick long dick that I now control.

I try my best to control my eager to touch it, laying back on the hotel bed. I didn’t want to risk Zach walking but I feel like I only have so much alone time with it.

I look down at Derek’s sexy size 11 feet, they’re beautiful and manly. I trace his fingers along his chest down to his cock and balls.

His dick is already hard, I start to stroke it and it feels amazing. It’s my first I’ve ever jerked off in someone else’s body. And it’s so different from mine.

I sit up and bring Derek’s big foot to my face smelling his toes as I wiggle them. I start licking his foot, still jerking his dick with my other hand.

I feel so close, I knew I was going to bust any minute. I let out a loud powerful grunt, inhaling his sole before cum bursts out all over.

I look over the mess I just made, damn that felt great. I whip some off of his chest and taste it. It taste’s so good.

I clean off his chest with a shower towel and grab one of his speedos.

I take a pic of myself to send to Derek and say, “you only packed speedos?”

I get a response a few minutes later, “well you look sexy in them. Send me more pics 😜”

I feel Derek’s cock start to get hard again from his text. Is he flirting with me?

#body swap #male body swap #male tf

235 notes · View notes

lovrre · 2 days

Text

Agreement Prt2

I wrote half of this to Need by pinegrove ♫

Art Donaldson x fem black reader

Prt1 here

Word count: 3k

Warnings: smuttt,unprotected sex, creampie,slight breeding kink if you squint. cursing (ofc) slightly domestic relationship (not with Art)and probably some other stuff.

Summary: Despite being engaged to one of the top and richest tennis players in the US, you feel unfulfilled. But everything changes when you transfer schools and meet Art Donaldson, who just can’t quit you.

Author note: I’m so glad I finished I was scared I wasn’t, but your comments gave gave me motivation. Thank you pookies 🫦 I like this one a lot more than the first one. Arts also very obsessed and in love in this one.

After twenty minutes, you finish your meal, alone. You decide to leave through a back exit to avoid the paparazzi waiting outside the hotel entrance. You stumble upon a narrow hallway and carefully make your way out, trying not to attract any attention. When you reach the entrance of the restaurant, you open the door and are greeted by a charming and seemingly empty establishment. The cozy yellow lighting, old pictures, and paintings on the walls, along with the white tablecloths and wooden woven chairs, remind you of an old Italian restaurant you and Art used to go to. You see moving in your peripheral and catch a glimpse of familiar golden locks.

You walk closer to see Art and Patrick sitting at a small square table with a vacant seat, you assume is reserved for you. Patrick with a full plate of food and Art without. "Patrick?" You question, your voice filled with suspicion as you creep towards the table. He looks back at the sound of your In voice, a smile forming on his face as he stands up, “What the hell are you doing here?” You ask, taken aback going in for a hug. Patrick returns it with a laugh before releasing from the hug slightly to look at Art.

“Ask him” You look between them confused. “I asked him to come here” Art states, adjusting in his seat. “Why?“ you ask clearly confused with the situation, “someone could see” you add your gripping the back of your chair almost afraid to sit down. “I bought the place out for an hour, it’s just us” Art reveals looking up at you. “You what?” you exclaim, a bit louder than you intended.

“I’ll explain everything in a minute, just sit” Art laughs, gesturing for you to sit down. You let out a sigh, reluctantly pulling out your chair. “Ok tell me what is going on” you say, slightly impatient. “We’ve got a plan for your marriage situation”, Patrick says, mixing his ice tea with his straw. “A plan?” you repeat, still confused. "Yes, a plan," Art confirms with a nod. Patrick takes a quick sip of his tea before opening a tan folder that he hadn't noticed before. “The private investigator dropped these off at the dorm the other day”, Patrick says, pushing the open folder towards you.

Inside were pictures of your fiancée , kissing all types of women. The worst part is, it was so obvious, he didn’t have a care in the world, every photo taken on different days in different settings. Outside, inside in the morning and at night, all different women.

You knew you shouldn't be upset, but you were, not because he was seeing other people behind your back, shit you were doing that same with Art, but it was the fact he acted holier than thou. That he continued to try and control you while actively putting your agreement at risk. “Wow…” you mutter.

Shuffling through the photos. “That’s not even all of them” Art says.

“Yeah… I accidentally left the other ones, but these are the most important ones. There’s also some paperwork underneath with names, time stamps and dates on stuff” Patrick ads. “How isn’t this everywhere?” You ask, furrowing your brow. “The investigator thinks he’s been paying them off,” Patrick says, taking a sip of his drink.

"Not that I don't want you here, but couldn't you just have faxed these over?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah... but then I'd miss the match," Patrick says with a grin, taking a bite of his food. "Plus, I would never miss an opportunity to help my best buds."

"Okay, so what are we doing with these?" you ask, holding up the pictures in confusion.

"We're going to spin it," Patrick replies, still chewing his food. "My plan," Art reminds him, "my bad," Patrick laughs, still chewing his food. You couldn’t help but smile, you’d missed the three of you together.

"We're going to spin it," Art repeats, making you smile wider. "Is this why you're training with my father?" you interject . Art nods in response. "Why didn't you tell me any of this last night?"

Art didn't say anything, a knowing smile spread across his face. Patrick looks between the two of you "freaks," he jokes, "Anyway... how do you plan on spinning it?" You ask, ignoring his comment.

“We lean into the infidelity, take a couple of photos of you crying, the two of you arguing, or something like that release them”, Art explains confidently.

“But… I don’t see how this stops us from getting married, it’ll just look like I got cheated on,” you say, scrunching your brow.

“We’re hoping this, plus me winning today, will be enough to persuade the media against him?”

“You believe you can win?”

“I do,” he nodded.

“Okay… I’m down.”

“Told you,” Patrick added, still drinking his tea.

“Are you especially thirsty or something today?” you ask, tilting your head slightly watching him slurp down his tea. A second one untouched, waiting for him.

“I am actually, thank you for noticing,” Patrick says with a big smile before taking another sip. You notice Art's eyes drop to Patrick’s plate for a second time while you two are talking.  “You should eat.”  “What?” Patrick says, looking between the two of you who seemed to be having your own conversation.   “No, I’m okay,” Art says, shaking his head.  “Mike had French toast for breakfast, I think you could have-“ you cut yourself off, looking down at Patrick’s plate. “Egg and sausage.”  “You guys aren’t talking about my food?” Patrick asks, slightly disturbed by your conversation.  “Patrick, I can buy you some more damn eggs,” you assure him as Art pulls the plate from under him.  “What just happened?” Patrick asked, looking around confused with no food in front of him.  Your phone rings, and you look down to see who it is. “It’s my Dad,” you inform, excusing yourself you answering the phone as you walk out of earshot.  The two of them watch your backside as you walk away. “She still looks good”, Patrick bites his lip, leaning over to Art.   “Careful, ” Art warns.   “What? you guys can joke about but I can’t?”   “Exactly”, Art laughs, plucking him on the head.

~~~~

With a dig, the elevator door opens, releasing you to your floor. You walk to your room, opening the door with your key card. Mike is packing stuff away in his duffle bag, getting ready to see your father. You don’t acknowledge him walking past him into the bedroom,leaving the door open. You sit on the edge of the bed carefully taking off your heals, you stand up and unzip the back of your dress with ease. The dress gracefully falls into a pile at your feet leaving you in only your underwear. You step over your dress and begin looking through your suitcase located in the closet. The sound of footsteps causes you to look up to see Mike in the doorway watching you.   “Where are you going?” Mike asked, leaning on the door frame slightly. You don’t answer right away looking for your dress under your neatly folded clothes. “There’s a press meeting with Art Donaldson's team, My Dad thought it’d look good if I’d came ” you say, moving more clothes around. “You didn’t come to mine” Mike states still watching you search.  “You didn’t ask me to” you responded, pulling out a light pink dress from your suitcase. There’s a beat of silence as Mike watches your actions "and you need to change for this press meeting?” Mike asks, raising an eyebrow. "No, but I want to” you say, standing up. When you see mike's eyes roaming up and down your body, you suddenly remembered you were only in your underwear.    “Can you turn around or something” you ask, scrunching your face up in disgust. “I’ve seen more than this” Mike chuckles before obliging and turning around. You roll your eyes by stepping into your dress. “I’m sorry for how I acted this morning, I’m just stressed,” he admits.  " Really?," you hum, pulling up the straps of your dress.  "I don't want to be that guy," Mike responds, still facing away.  "But you are constantly being that guy..." you mumble, but Mike hears you.   "I won't anymore. I want this marriage to work y/n, I.”   You release a heavy sigh at his word. “You can turn around now ” You announce zipping up the side of your dress. Mike turns around and watches as you sit back on the edge of the bed putting on your heels. “You’re still going to that thing?” Mike asks with a confused expression. “What about that conversation gave off the vibe that I was no longer going?” You say pulling your stiletto over your heel.   Mike goes silently for a moment watching you walk toward the bathroom. “Like you need more makeup?” Mike scoffs. “Be honest with me are you fucking him?” He asks from behind you in the doorway while you remove a bit of smudged lipstick. “are you serious right now?” You ask staring at him through the reflection in the mirror. “I’m not a fucking idiot, I saw the way you looked at each other, and I get the feeling that’s wasn’t your first time meeting”    “Only god knows what you’re doing at that college” you can’t stop your self from laughing. “I think you’re projecting” you say walking past him towards the door, picking up your purse on the way. “Where the fuck are you going?” Mike calls out, following you.   You swing the door open and step out into the hallway. Mike trails behind and tries to grab your arm to pull you back inside. “DONT TOUCH ME!” You yell yanking your arm back. “C’mon Don’t make a scene” Mike says looking around.    “You have some fucking nerve, you know that? Your friend Isabel came up here earlier looking for you, I’m guessing you guys have a lot of fun In Detroit” you say with a smile. “When were you in Detroit again…my birthday? You ask rhetorically, Mike goes silent for a moment before responding.  "I don't know what you're talking about," he says, trying to keep his voice down. "You don't?" you question. "What about Sarah, Kim, Kate, Alex? Do you not know them either?" Mike opens his mouth, then closes it. "Yeah…" you drawl,    "they meant nothing to me... I just needed to get it out of my system before fully committing. I want this to work, I want this to be real, y/n," Mike says, trying to corner against the door in a situation similar to the one you were in with Art last night.

"That's the dumbest shit I've ever heard," you respond, attempting to push past him. He grabs you again using his strength. You had forgotten how strong he actually was. “Last warning” you say looking up at Mike. he can tell by the look in your eyes you’re serious, he doesn’t know exactly what you’re going to do but something in his gut said don’t test it. “Let. Go” you repeat one more time before a voice interrupts you.

“Is everything ok?” Patrick asked from the end of the hallway. "Yeah, everything's fine," Mike reassured with a smile, gently releasing his grip on him. "We'll continue this conversation later," Mike says, forcing a tight-lipped smile as he presses the elevator button. "No, we won't," you smile back with a wave, as the elevator door chimes and he leaves. "Are you okay?" Patrick asks, walking up to you. "Yeah, he wasn’t going to hit me, he knows better," you laugh. "I was actually more concerned about you hitting him," Patrick jokes.

“I got the picture though” he smiles, showing you a camera and clicking through the images of your altercation with Mike.”These are good, you should take them now, I’ll call Art and tell him I’m on the way” you say, pulling out your phone.

“I’ll miss the game” Patrick states with a slight pout.

“Not if you hurry.”

~~~~~

"I won't keep you much longer, just a few more questions," the female interviewer says, holding the microphone up to Art. "Was the training for this upcoming match particularly challenging?" Before the interviewer could finish her sentence, Art was shaking his head. "Not necessarily, different for sure, but not harder."

"As of now, can you confirm or deny the rumor that you have started working with Olympic Coach Dylan Y\L\N?" the interviewer asked, lifting the mic slightly closer to his mouth. "Ummm," Art hesitates, accompanied by a smile. "I think I can. Yes, Dylan is my new coach."

"So you and your opponent today have trained under the same coach?" the interviewer asks, scrunching her brow. "Yes, we have," Art nods. "One more question, is there any special woman in Art Donaldson's life right now?" the interviewer asks with a smile. The sound of camera clicking intensifies, catching Art's attention. Intrigued, the interviewer turns around as well. "She is beautiful," Art says absentmindedly, staring in the direction where you're coming from. You give small waves to friends as you walk in. "That's your opponent's fiancé... and I guess also your trainer's daughter?" the interviewer says, looking confused and turning back to face Art.

"Really?" Art asks, faking shock with a dazed expression. "Yes," the interviewer nods. "I mean.. I meant what I said, She is beautiful," Art said with a laugh, causing the interviewer to join in. His eyes never leaving you. "Does your coach know you have a crush on his daughter?" the interviewer joked, chuckling. "He might now," Art says with a laugh before giving a quiet , "Nice meeting you," as he walks away out of frame.

A short while later, you find yourself reaching for a bottle of water from a nearby table, inserting one of those adorable green straws they had. Just as you're about to take a sip, a voice catches you off guard from behind. "There you are," Art says, a smile lighting up his face as he jogs towards you. As he approaches, you can't help but notice how close he gets, almost too close.

"You're not exactly great at keeping secrets, huh?" you chuckle, taking a step back. Art smirks, "Can't two friends have a conversation?" Peeking over your shoulder at the ongoing interviews, you reply with a straw in your mouth, "We're not even supposed to be friends. You're supposed to be my Dad's client, or from what I heard your crush." You laugh, recalling a question from one of the interviewers. "You're going to get us caught," you whisper quietly into the straw.  "I understand. I can't stand next to my trainer's daughter," Art nods, "Orrr, my opponents, fiancé, but maybe can I stand close to my crush?" Art asks.   “I think you could, yeah” you nod trying to keep the smile on your face. “Crush it is,” Art says with a smile taking a step forward, yet still maintaining a slight distance. “Did you get the pictures?” Art asks his eyes falling down to your lips. “Yeah, we got them," you confirm with a nod, unable to hide your smile when you notice his lingering gaze. “So we’re in the clear?” his eyes still fixated on your lips, as if he's ready to pounce. "Not yet," you laugh, taking a step back. "We have to wait for them to go to press." Art throws his head back with a strained laugh, and you can't help but watch his Adam's apple bobs up and down. You hadn’t realized until that moment how much you wanted him, it was an all consuming need.

“Just one day," you murmur, unsure if you're speaking to Art or yourself. "Just one day," Art echoes, his eyes now fixed on your neck, his finger brushing your curls away. You watch as he exhales shakily, looking at the fading hickeys on your shoulder, barely hidden by makeup. "Just one day," you remind, removing his hand from your chest. "Just one day," Art repeats, tearing his gaze away to look back up at you. "Your car is here, Mr. Donaldson," a man in black approaches and announces.  “One minute” Art says, gesturing for another second. The man nods in acknowledgment and walks away. “Come with me?” Art asked. “I don’t think that’ll look good.” You alluded to the countless people with cameras surrounding you.  “I couldn’t care less” Art says, shaking his head slightly. “I’d kiss you right here, if you’d let me ” Arts words catch you off guard, and you take a deep breath to try to steady your heart beat.   “This planning stuff is more for you than me, so you can feel more comfortable. And I’m perfectly fine doing it,’s just …” he trails of his eyes falling back down to your lip. "Alright, I'll come," you rush out, convincing yourself it's to prevent him from kissing you right then. But deep down you knew you just wanted to be near him. You follow closely behind.  Art swiftly enters the car before you lean up, capturing you with a kiss. Before you could even fully step inside, his hand gently grasped your cheek, drawing you closer to his lips as he guided you into the vehicle. Lost in the intensity of the moment, you surrender to the kiss. practically falling inside. The sound of the car door closing behind you brings you back to reality, but the kiss continues to deepen. Suddenly, the driver rolls up the partition, creating a sense of privacy.

A sense of responsibility tugs at you, and you reluctantly break the kiss when Art's hand starts to wander up your bare leg. "We can't," you whisper, "We don't even have a condom," you add, hoping the driver couldn’t overhear.   “You’re right” Art mumbles, sitting back against the seat trying to catch his breath. “ I lost myself for a second” Art laughs, attempting to slow his heartbreak. ”After the game I’ll come to your room” you nod, looking forward trying to gather yourself. “Don’t talk about that, talk about something else” Art says his voice coming out more strained. “Like what?” You turn around and ask. Your eyes landing on the strained erection in his pants. “Oh!” You say, snapping your head back forward. The familiar ache of your core comes back, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek in an attempt to control yourself.   Against your better judgment, you take another peak. His hard shaft still straining against the fabric, you could damn near see the veins on his dick. “Can I?” You ask in a voice barely above a whisper. “Y-yeah” Art replies with a nod agjusting in his seat. You rub your hand back and forth against the Arts bulge while listen as his breath becomes more and more ragged.   Art makes a low moan and that’s enough for you to begin unzipping his pants. Against his better judgment he stops you. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah” you nod breathlessly, fumbling with his pants, pulling them down until his dick springs free. When you begin pumping his shaft, he takes in a sharp breath which causes you to smile. You savor the feeling of his heavy dick in your hand, trying to combat the thoughts of his thick long length inside you. When Art's hips buck into your hand, you fold. “I need you inside of me”, Art opens his mouth to protest and then closes, watching as you bunch up your dress around your waist, pull your panties to the side and straddle him. He grabs your waist with one hand and lines himself up with your entrance with the other.    You sink onto him with a little too loudly of a moan and Art does the same. Opening his mouth for a sloppy kiss, he doesn’t wait for you to adjust to his size, moving you up and down his dick by your waist. ”shit I-“ Art groans out a wave of pleasure hitting him. “-I can’t go back to condoms” he moaned, scrunching his brow in pleasure. You laugh and Art quickly retaliates by slamming you hard down on him. You let out a loud moan reflexively using your hand, trying to pull off slightly.  Art moves your hand out of the way, holding you down on him by your waist. “I’m serious”, Art grows leaning forward for another kiss while returning to his previous, rhythm. His words cause you to squeeze around him, and he lets out another low ground throwing his head back, breaking the kiss.    “I’m not going to last much longer” Art says breathlessly. “Just a little longer baby” you coo, leaving kisses on his Adam’s apple down his neck. “You drive me crazy, you know that” you moan feeling his pace fastest. “I do?” you feel Art smile against your cheek. You nod, falling into the crook of his neck enjoying the feeling of him fucking into you. “I want you to cum in me” you whisper, kissing the crook of his neck. “Fuck” Art groans, throwing his head back again. “You’re going to kill me” he states with a strained laugh.   You feel your release building so you decide to taunt him. ”you don’t want to fill me up?” You ask innocently, removing your head from the crook of his shoulder. Look down at him with lust, filled eyes. “Don’t” Art warns, his grip on your waist tightening, “you don’t want to give me a baby?” You huff out trying to keep your voice steady literally feeling him in your stomach. “Fuc- shit shit shitttt” Art moans holding you down onto him filling you up with his cum. His moans echoed through the car, the poor driver.    “Fuck,” Art states after a minute. “Yea fuck,” you laugh, leaving a kiss on his cheek. “I think I might have a breeding kink”. Art laughs, “Me too,” you say with a smile, leaving another kiss on his head. You feel him twitch inside you, and knowing Art, you knew he would be ready for round two in a minute. You try to get off, but he holds you tighter, keeping you stationary.   “I want it to stick” he smiles. Oh his smile, you rolled your eyes. You loved him, you knew it now, and you had a feeling he did too. You had been lying to yourself pretending you liked you didn’t care as much as he did. But at that moment you knew you never wanted anyone but him.    You glance out the window to see you were seconds away from the stadium, and then you notice your father standing on the sidewalk. “Oh my god! MY DAD HERE” you say, scurrying out of Art's lap. Art looks out the window, seeing your father standing on the sidewalk expectingly. “Shit” Art huffs, sitting up slightly, pulling up his pants, you take a wet rag next to the champagne and quickly wipe the inside of your leg. You quickly fix yourself before rushing to wipe off any remains of your lipstick off his mouth with your hand.

"Oh no, do I have lipstick on my mouth?" you ask frantically. "Nope, all clear," Art replies with a grin, planting a quick kiss on your lips. "Art," you warn, settling back in your seat. "My bad," Art chuckles, getting ready to exit the car. The car come to stop and your dad Yanks open the door.

"Hurry up, we're late. Mike's already inside," your Dad urges, When he sees you, his expression turns puzzled.

"We were heading in the same direction, so we decided to ride together," you explain before he can say anything. Your dad eyed you both suspiciously. "Alright, let's go," he says, ushering Art into the building. You wanted to say goodbye or wish him luck, and you could sense Art wanted to as well but it would be just too obvious.

You step out of the car, rummaging through your wallet. You tap on the driver's window, and he rolls it down. "Sorry about that," you apologize, handing him a 100 dollar bill before heading into the building.

Once inside the stadium you sit next to your Dad’s team which was now also partially Arts team and somehow also Mikes. Your phone buzzes and look down to see a familiar unsaved number.

“I think your Dad on to us”

“What did he say?” you text back anxiously your fingers moving fast on the keys.

“Nothing really, but i think he knows”

“Did he seem mad?”

“Not really”

“That’s good” you send, letting out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in.

“Good luck :)” you add before stuffing your phone in your purse . Almost immediately your phone dings and you pull it back out.

“You gave me enough of that in the car ; )” you can’t help but smile at his corniness.

“You’re nasty.”

“Not as nasty as you” you’re about to laugh at his message when you hear a voice directly behind you. “You guys are actually freaks” Patrick says with a laugh jumping over the seat so he was directly next to you. “I applaud you guys for staying consistent at least” Patrick says lightly hitting you on the shoulder. “Can you mind your business” you say rolling your eyes, stuffing your phone in your purse.

“Actually I’ve been minding you two’s business all day with no pay by the way” Patrick adds. “So I think I’ve earned the right to be a little nosy” Patrick says making a pinching gesture.

“So you delivered the pictures?”

“Yes” he responded with a nod

“Thank you” you express your appreciation, turning your attention back to the court.

“Do you think he’s gonna win” Patrick asks leaning in slightly, curious to your answer.

"I hope so, but I don't know. I haven't seen him play in a while," you admit with a weak smile, the reality of the situation sinking in. "I really hope he does win," you mumble.

Author note : GUYS FEEL FREE TO COMMENT I LOVE READING COMMENTS

#black reader #art donaldson x black reader #art donaldson smut #art donaldson #challengers fanfic #challengers #Art Donaldson breeding #patrick zweig #Spotify #challengers fic #mike faist #mike faist smut #art donaldson x female reader #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson fic

207 notes · View notes

foreingersgod · 3 days

Note

thank you so much for writing all these fics, you are keeping me alive 🥹 was also wondering if you could write a jealous/protective caitlin fic hehe

jealous caitlin? say no more my friend!

Jealous . CC

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

A/N: this picture of her is doing things to me fr

my masterlist

you looked absolutely radiant tonight. of course caitlin thought you looked amazing all the time, but there was something about you tonight that had her utterly consumed by you. so much so that she had hardly left your side all night, tailing at your heels like a lost puppy.

it was an event you had for work, the entire reason you were even out so late. saturday nights at your shared home were typically reserved for takeout and movies and letting caitlin have her way with you if you asked nicely. your girlfriend was reluctant to accept your invite to attend with you, but after seeing the dress you’d picked out for the occasion, she quickly made up her mind. it fit your body just right, hugged all the right places, and overall just made you look out of this world. there were little times where caitlin was left speechless, but seeing you try the gown on for the first time had her at a loss for words. she knew that all eyes would be on you and that she needed to be there to put any wandering eyes in their place. so she rummaged through her closet the night before, looking for a suit that would match your dress.

and now here she was, at this stupid fucking event, regretting her decision. the first hour or so went by delightfully. you had both gotten a glass of champagne and mingled with several of your coworkers. you introduced caitlin to a few of your closer colleagues and even your boss, someone who spoke very highly of you. caitlin loved hearing all the stories they had to tell, loved hearing their high praise towards her girlfriend. but despite all this she was growing increasingly agitated as the night dragged on.

at some point, you pulled caitlin away from the open bar and out into the center of the room. with a hand around her wrist, you began blabbering about wanting her to meet someone and that you were so excited to finally introduce her. she was guided through a sea of people, all of them dressed in the fanciest attire, until you halted at one of the cocktail tables.

“hey, jennifer!” caitlin heard you exclaim, looking past you to see who you were talking to.

a quite beautiful woman stood leaning against the table, her blonde hair pulled back into a slick ponytail and a dark red dress adorned her body. sure, she was attractive, but nobody compared to you in caitlin’s eyes. she was looking down at her phone until she saw you, head snapping up when she heard her name.

“oh my god!” the woman, jennifer apparently, immediately set down her phone and opened her arms to you. you had let go of caitlin’s hand and embraced the blonde with a beaming smile “YN! how are you?”

“i’m so good!” you pulled away, hands finding their way to jennifer’s shoulders. caitlin could already feel her jaw clenching in envy “it’s been so long, it’s great to see you! i was hoping i’d see you tonight-i wanted to introduce you to my girlfriend!”

jennifer tilted her head to the side as caitlin shuffled forward to stand next you. she offered a polite hand out to your friend, trying to rid of the irritation she felt. caitlin didn’t need to talk to her at all to know that she wasn’t going to like her. jennifer took the hand shake, shooting her a tight lipped smile.

“caitlin this is jennifer, my friend from high school and my coworker from the neighboring department” you said “and jennifer this is my girlfriend caitlin”

“it’s nice to meet you” caitlin announced proudly, although in actuality she wasn’t sure if it was nice.

“yea! you too, i’ve heard a lot about you” she responded, eyeing caitlin up and down.

to anyone, the supposed glare probably meant nothing. if anything, she was just looking at caitlin like she would anyone else. but for some reason, caitlin couldn’t shake the feeling that jennifer had something against her. from the moment she embraced you, her nicely manicured nails caressing your back, she could feel her blood boiling.

caitlin wasn’t much of the jealous type. she despised when people tried to hit on you or ask for your number, but she trusted you and knew you’d decline their offer. she would also step in and assert her title as your girlfriend if anyone tried anything with you. but there was something about jennifer that irked caitlin. maybe it was the fact that you were close friends in high school? or maybe it was the way jennifer couldn’t seem to stop fucking touching you as you became engrossed in conversation.

she watched as you and jennifer spent the next hour laughing with each other, not even bothering to notice how caitlin stood silently at your side. she made note of all the things jennifer did that bothered her. how she gripped your bare arm when she laughed at your joke, how she looked at you like a piece of meat, how she twirled her hair around her finger and pushed her exposed cleavage out to you. god she hated this poor excuse of a friend of yours. and she really wanted to be mad at you too, she didn’t like how you weren’t noticing this absurd behavior at all. but she could never stay mad at you, she knew that, and opted for the next best thing-making up an excuse to leave and forcing you out the door.

“baby, can we leave?” caitlin interrupted, leaning into you to murmur against your ear “i wanna go home”

she didn’t miss the way jennifer rolled her eyes, smirking as she looked the other way. it took all caitlin had to not lunge across the table and put the bitch in her place.

“but cait we-”

“i just really need to go home,” her hand snaked around your waist, fingers digging into your side “please?”

you gave her a disappointed look, but bashfully nodded at her in agreement. you turned to jennifer to bid your farewells and to let her know you’d catch up more some other time. you could barely finish waving before caitlin was yanking you back through the crowds and towards the exit. jennifer tried to holler a goodbye in your direction, but the excessive chatter of the venue was far too loud.

“caitlin!” you gasped, bumping shoulders with a stranger from how harsh caitlin was pulling you “what’s gotten into you? what’s going on?”

“i told you. i just need to go home, couldn’t be in there anymore”

a cold wind hit your skin once you reached the exit of the building, the breeze sneaking past the doors as they creaked open. caitlin released you from her grip to search for her keys in her pocket. she marched towards the car, completely disregarding you as she mumbled under her breathe. you could tell it more than ‘just wanting to go home’, caitlin had always toughed things like this out. she despised disappointing people and would rather silently suffer than make a scene and abandon plans all together. so when you stopped in the middle of the parking lot, crossing your arms, and caitlin didn’t even bother to look in your direction? you knew something was on her mind.

“caitlin” you said sternly, not budging from your place in the parking lot.

she noticed the tone in your voice, you didn’t seem to be happy with her. turning on her heels, sneakers scraping against the asphalt, she faced you. although you were a few feet ahead of her and it was near complete darkness outside, she could see the frustrated look on your face.

“what?”

“i need you to tell me what’s really going on” you sauntered towards her to close the space “you don’t act like this. ever. i thought you were having fun, baby? what happened back there?”

even when she was red in the face, bitterness coursing through her veins, she couldn’t help but melt when she got a clear view of you. your hair had become tousled due to the wind and the skirt of your dress fluttered against your legs softly. your nose was slightly red from the chill and your lips turned a deep crimson from how much you were nervously biting them. you looked so beautiful standing here underneath the moonlight and the faint glow from the distant street lamps, it almost made caitlin forget the whole thing all together. but then she remembered how disgusted she was, seeing another woman so blatantly flirt with you, and she was back to being angry.

“honestly, YN, it’s nothing” she shook her head, twirling her keys around her finger, scoffing loudly . she didn’t mean to sound so nasty, but part of her wanted a reaction out of you “i don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but i don’t really like it when people are all over my girlfriend”

“what are you talking about, caitlin?” you let your arms fall back down to your sides, your shoulders slumping.

“you know damn well what i’m talking about”

“i don’t!” you were growing irritated “this came out of nowhere, no one was all over me, babe. i’m confused”

she truly hated taking this out on you, something that was of her own insecurities. you didn’t deserve to be scolded for something you actually didn’t do. but the slight thought of jennifer kept creeping into her mind and she couldn’t help but grow more and more upset.

“don’t act like you don’t know, like jennifer or whatever her name was isn’t totally into you! like she wasn’t practically flirting with you while i was standing right there?”

you were left dumbfounded. your jaw slacked slightly, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“that’s what this is about? you’re upset about jennifer?”

caitlin looked away from you, looking at anything but your eyes. she knew she’d made a mistake by saying anything and how she was going to face the consequences.

“cait,” you let out a baffled laugh, a small grin working its way onto one side of your mouth “please don’t tell me you’re jealous”

“m’not jealous,” she denied “i don’t get jealous”

“oh really? so what would you call this then?”

“am i not allowed to be mad when someone’s trying to hit on my girlfriend?”

you could see the embarrassed blush spread throughout caitlin’s face. she still couldn’t look you in the eye, bouncing her foot anxiously as her slender fingers rubbed at her temples in annoyance. it was all making sense to you now. during your relationship, you noticed that caitlin was really never that jealous. you knew she would get irritated with people or annoyed when someone hit on you, but for the most part, she was able to brush it off. she trusted you so much and she wouldn’t consider half of those people a threat. but it had clicked in your mind that this time was different. the closeness that you and jennifer shared made all of caitlin’s suppressed jealousy surface. she didn’t like that jennifer knew so much about you or that she was particularly touchy with you…because those were things reserved for caitlin and only caitlin.

“you are…but baby,” you had finally reached her, hands wandering from her biceps to her shoulders, thumbs rubbing against the fabric of her blazer soothingly “it’s ok to be jealous”

“i told y-”

“i think it’s really attractive, actually” you hummed, leaning into her ear just as she had earlier. before she could get another word in, her breathe mellowed out. her muscles relaxed under your touch, gulping deeply as she tried to mutter a response.

“you do?”

“mhm” your hands travels up her shoulders, gracing her neck until they reached her face. your fingers traced against her pronounced cheekbones, studying the faint freckles and textures of her skin “i like it when you get protective over me, it’s sweet”

she let out a conflicted sigh, finally looking at you “im sorry…i shouldn’t have made you leave your party just because i was…i was jealous”

“it’s ok, cait” you smiled, happy to hear her actually admit it “but if you’re really sorry…”

she quirked an eyebrow at you, watching as you stepped away from her. you grabbed her hand and pulled her with you as you guided her towards the car. the way your hips swayed had caitlin in a trance.

“…you’re gonna take me home and do things to me that jennifer never could”

now it was her turn to be shocked, practically drooling as you smiled smugly over your shoulder. her tongue prodded against the inside of her cheek, suppressing a guttural moan. your contagious laugh echoed through the half empty parking lot when you felt her touch the plushness of your ass, gripping tightly as you walked the rest of the way to the car.

oh the things you did to her…

maybe being jealous wasn’t so bad.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

taglist:

@idiotsnake @girlokwhatever @uraesthete @katemartinsimp @rimunagenius @patscorner @julienbakerloverr @sunfairy-world @anakinsmakingmeweak @barbacoas-stuff @0alessia0 @kc88888888 @kinfluenza @lacyspeaks @pbueckerslover

#wcbb #wcbb x reader #iowa wbb #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark #indiana fever #wnba x reader #wnba imagine #wlw imagine #wlw #lesbian #lesbian imagine #i love caitlin clark #cc #cc x reader #rpf x reader #rpf #foreingersgod

204 notes · View notes

imaluckygirl · 3 days

Text

⭑ cool with you

( enhypen scenario )

synopsis: your boyfriend favorite moments with you when he’s at home.

( 엔하이픈 ) - maknaeline!fem.reader ( hyung ver. ) ; fluff , crack & domestic ୨ৎ back to the bookshelf . . . note : im trying to be more active but school is not letting me *sighs* but ill keep doing my best! hope you enjoy >< ( didnt checked this one so it might have some grammar errors )

sunwoo : karaoke night & a little bonus at the end

he is the type of boyfriend that would rather enjoy spending time having fun with you than cuddling you. i mean, he is affectionate and all, but he likes to see you laugh and show him that big bright smile; that is uniquely yours. that’s why i think he would like to spend his quality time with you doing a karaoke night. snacks and drinks on the table, with a karaoke microphone placed there, and a korean karaoke machine synchronised on the tv. at the living room sunwoo would be waiting for you sat while choosing a song for both of you to sing while you pay for the pizza both of you chose to order. when he sees you walking in the living room and sitting by his side on the couch after placing the pizza on the table, he would kiss gently kiss your cheek and point at the tv, indicating to you that he chose a song already; and if you were down to sing with him.

when you nodded — as you always did because saying no to your boyfriend felt like committing a crime — sunwoo will smile and shake his hands in a fist excitedly. when he clicked on the remote’s control and the song started, he handed you a microphone while you were drinking an iced tea, saying: “stand u-” and when he was about to complete his sentence the lyrics started to turn onto another colour, indicating that the lyrics were being sang already. however, when you saw the lyrics appearing and then slowly fading, you stood up like you assumed sunwoo would shout in a very enthusiastic tone — because he always did — and began to sing with him.

both of you definitely would be swaying to the rhythm while your arms were up following your body as it sway. sunwoo would be laughing so hard if you get a low score after all your dedication and would giggle while he rans away from you; when you threatened him with a pillow. the night ends with a full stomach and with sunwoo gently massaging your face with a face moisturizer and applying a strawberry lip balm onto your lips — that doesn’t last longer than two minutes because he can’t sleep without placing a good night kiss onto your forehead while you kiss him on his lips.

ps: just wanted to mention that he also loves these karaoke nights because he can feel free to be who he is; the real him, without feeling judged and watched by uninvited eyes. ( you make him feel so safe )

jungwon : when you have a tea to tell him; with a plot twist hehe

obs: i feel like, in general, all members would be interested in this conversation lol; but jungwon would be more often — trust me. even though you can think this is something sunwoo would like to do the most with you, it is, but no specifically under such a domestic moment — because i think he would listen to your yapps while both of you are sat on the underground’s sit for an example. but anyway, i’ll stop talking and let you read...

jungwon would often come back home with you telling him about some tea you were waiting for ages hours to tell him, but the most common times this would happen would be when he is laying on bed with you and you suddenly gasp and unconsciously pull him away from hugging your body. “what?! what happened?!” he immediately looks at you with a question mark above his head while your eyes were widen and your mouth open. you were be texting someone frenetically while he was getting even more confused. “WHAT!” you yell, shocked for some reason. “y/n, what happened?” your boyfriend would be sooooo concern, frowning while sitting on bed with you, trying to find out why were you so shocked.

“mingyu and mina just broke up!” you tell your boyfriend after a dramatic pause, while your hand is hiding your open mouth and your eyes still wide open. “WHAT?!’ now he was just as shocked as you. “that’s why i am freaking out!” you justified after you just watched the cutest reaction coming out from him — his eyes widened just like yours and his mouth dropped out of surprise. in a swiftly movement he was following your eyes through your friend group’s chat; and one of your friends was talking about their theory about why they had broken up. “they are saying mina cheated on him.” you commented and jungwon looked at you, nodding. “wah... i can’t believe this...” your boyfriend brushed his hair back with his hand, taking a deep breath. “just last week i was talking with mingyu and he was saying how happy he was because of the engagement ring he bough for her-” “HE DID WHAT?!” “i didn’t tell you? i mean, i thought you knew...”

another time this gossip session would happen is at the kitchen, while he is washing the dishes. imagine jungwon casually washing the remain dishes from yesterday’s dinner and you come downstairs calling him like: “jungwon, jungwon, wonie!”, he would be drying his hands as fast as he can to know what happened to you, and he is relieved you weren’t hurt. “what happened?” “there’s people saying that you cheated on me!” you would tell him, laughing. “WHAT- WHO?”

kiss this baby if you plan to prank him like this because he just can’t sleep thinking that you just heard that he supposedly did something so nasty and disgusting and made you feel hurt/betrayed. whatever, after a hundred times pranking him in the same way, he would quickly get you, but act up just to have your sweet kisses showering his face.

riki : game nights with you & watching films with you

i can think about so many scenarios of riki enjoying his time at home with you; like SO MANY. but i will tell you two of his favorites.

something about game nights with you makes him feel like he is back in japan and like he is fourteen again. he used to play twister or guess who — for an example — with his sisters or at his family dance studio; with his friends. he remembers having so much fun with them, and it makes his heart flutter when he play those games with you — like he is creating a new memory over so many good ones he made in the past while he was in his hometown. talking about riki’s hometown — plus his family —, when it’s an important holiday, your boyfriend’s family invite both of you over, specially when it’s christmas/new years eve. you watch him playing guess who against his little sister while you chat with konon on the sofa before he calls you to help him with questions. or as i mentioned twisters: it would be so funny when his whole family joins. like, not just konon, his little sister, riki, you, some of his friends, but his parents as well. it would be such a good memory him and his family are going to remember with so much affection and love.

another thing i can’t forget to add is how giggly riki gets when just both of you is playing at home ( or at his dorm ). even if it’s a simple uno round he would get all giggly and competitive after he yells “UNO! UNOOOO”. even if you try you always lose and wonder how he can be this good at this dumb card game — ignore the fact that he was a stack of uno cards hidden under his thighs.

now, hear me out, riki can be every loud and playful, but he is very serious and affectionate when it comes to those film nights or movie nights ( whatever ). your boyfriend really enjoys watching films, even before he met you. however, watching films with you hits different. it’s different because he have someone to cuddle, to kiss if there is any boring scene, whisper something — usually what he think will happen at the end or creating a theory and sharing with you —, be vulnerable, and many other motives. and trust me, 100% of chance that he would ask if you are scared of horror movies. and if you are, perfect, that’s the genre he is choosing. just with the thought of you getting scared and holding onto him makes a grown young man blush. you think he is mean, but he’s hopelessly in love with you.

“i’m not letting you choose a film never again!” you would tell him with a pouty face as you sigh; while walking out of the cinema’s room holding your boyfriend’s hand. riki would most definitely laugh at you and mock at your jumpscares; oorrrr he would laugh, kiss your cheek and then proceed to cup them with his hands — while cocking his head down because of the weight difference — and say: “okay, i’m not letting my baby watch any other scary movie.” you squint your eyes, not trusting on him, but he pouts. “i’m being serious!” “okay...” — he wasn’t being serious.

taglist : @jakesangel . . .

299 notes · View notes

theodorenmyth · 2 days

Note

Theo x reader where Astoria starts getting really friendly with Theo to get closer to Draco (but no one knows this) and Theo and Astoria getting close bc they actually have similar vibes, leaving reader sort of jealous and really upset. Ending in a fluffy makeup scenario

your wish is my command

───────♡───────

Envious Echoes.

Pairings : Theodore Nott x GN! Reader Summary : You were getting super jealous of Astoria and Theodore. A/n : Enjoy (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠) Warnings) : nothing Word count : 820+

You watch from across the Slytherin common room as Astoria Greengrass leans in closer to Theodore Nott, her laughter soft and lilting as if he's just told the funniest joke in the world. It's not that you don't trust Theo; he's always been nothing but devoted to you. But Astoria is beautiful, charming, and undeniably magnetic. And lately, it feels like she's been monopolizing all of Theo's time and attention.

You try to focus on your Potions homework, but your concentration keeps slipping back to the sight of them together. It's been like this for weeks now. At first, you didn't think much of it. Astoria's always been friendly, and Theo's always been someone who people are drawn to. But as the days turned into weeks, you couldn't help but notice how often she seemed to be around him, laughing at his jokes, touching his arm, whispering secrets.

What you don't know is that Astoria's intentions aren't quite what they seem. She's trying to get closer to Draco Malfoy, Theo's best friend, and sees Theo as her ticket into his inner circle. But the more time she spends with Theo, the more she realizes how much they have in common. They share the same dry sense of humor, the same love for obscure magical texts, the same dislike for loud, crowded places.

Today, as you sit in the common room pretending to study, you notice that Theo and Astoria are huddled together over a book, their heads close enough that their hair almost touches. You can't help the pang of jealousy that shoots through you. It's as if a cold hand has gripped your heart, squeezing until it's hard to breathe.

You snap your book shut and gather your things, deciding that you need some fresh air. The corridors of Hogwarts are quiet this time of evening, most students having retreated to their common rooms or the Great Hall. You find a secluded spot by one of the windows and sit down, hugging your knees to your chest. The cool glass against your forehead is a small comfort, but it doesn't stop the tears from welling up in your eyes.

"Hey, Y/N," a familiar voice calls out, and you turn to see Theo standing a few feet away, concern etched on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you mutter, wiping your eyes hastily. "Just needed some air."

He steps closer, frowning. "Don't lie to me. I know something's bothering you. Please, tell me."

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. "It's just... Astoria. She's always around you, and it feels like you're getting closer to her than you are to me."

Theo's expression softens, and he sits down next to you, his arm sliding around your shoulders. "Y/N, you have nothing to worry about. Astoria and I are just friends. She's been trying to get closer to Draco, and I've been helping her out. That's all."

You look up at him, searching his eyes for any hint of deception, but all you see is sincerity. "But it feels like you're spending more time with her than with me."

"I know it seems that way, and I'm sorry," he says, his voice gentle. "I've been so caught up in helping her that I didn't realize how it was affecting you. You're the most important person in my life, and I never want you to feel like you're second to anyone."

You feel a wave of relief wash over you, and the tightness in your chest begins to loosen. "I just... I love you so much, Theo. And it hurts to see you so close to someone else."

He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away your tears. "I love you too, Y/N. More than anything. And I promise, I'll make more time for us. Astoria's just a friend, and she could never replace you."

You lean into his touch, feeling the warmth and reassurance that only he can give you. "Thank you, Teddy. I needed to hear that."

He smiles, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. "Anytime. Now, how about we go for a walk? Just the two of us."

You nod, standing up and slipping your hand into his. As you walk through the corridors, you feel lighter, the jealousy and insecurity fading away. Theo's thumb strokes the back of your hand, and you look up at him, feeling a surge of love and gratitude.

"Hey, Theo?" you say, your voice soft.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for always being there for me."

He stops walking and turns to face you, his eyes filled with tenderness. "Always, Y/N. I love you, and I always will."

As he pulls you into a warm embrace, you realize that no matter what challenges come your way, as long as you have Theo by your side, you'll be able to face them together.

SIGHH my last fanfic for the day, i will be posting 5 more tomorrow, so roll in your requests!

───────♡───────

162 notes · View notes

aleskyyy · 1 day

Text

Redamancy III — Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader

When you think no one will love you anymore because of your current condition, you are faced with a reality that is completely opposite to what you think.

Warnings — AU where voldy no nose doesn't exist, fem!muggle!reader, blind!reader, poly!marauders, marauders being a simp, marauders and readers bonding time, etc.

1,5k words.

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

You try to tie your hair as neatly as you can. Today Euphemia took you for a walk in the park near your neighborhood. She said she needed someone to talk to because she thought the mothers near her house were not very fun. You just laughed when you heard her say that.

You were wearing a sky blue sundress that Euphemia had prepared herself. Since knowing each other for a few weeks, Euphemia has taken over Elijah's job of preparing your clothes. You can't even believe you're this close to her.

You hear a knock on the door, you carefully walk out to the main door and open it. You smiled at the person behind the door, thinking it was Euphemia.

"Mia?" you call when there's no sound that you've been hearing a lot lately.

Instead of hearing Euphemia's voice, you hear the sound of a boy's voice which makes you grip the doorknob tightly. You quickly try to close the door but the boy stops you.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you. I'm James, Euphemia's son," he says in a frantic tone.

"James? James Potter? Why didn't you say it from the start," you sigh under your breath. Oh, you thought there would be bad guys like robbers coming. But now that you think about it, no robber knocked on the door.

"I'm sorry. Wait! You know me?" asked James with a confused voice.

James was really surprised to find out that the girl next door that his mum had been talking about was you. The girl he met at the restaurant a few weeks ago. If Sirius had known it was you he was going to pick up, he would have been jealous. James will brag about this in front of him later.

"Of course I know. Mia always talks about her two sons, James and Sirius, right?" you reply, smiling at him.

James, seeing your smile, is silent for a moment. If he had known you had been living here all this time, James wouldn't have wasted any time in asking you to get to know one another.

"Yeah yeah, James and Sirius," he said in a dazed voice.

You walked outside and tried to lock the door, but your hand was held back by James. He gently took your house key and locked it then handed it back to you. You can only smile and say thank you as you put the key in your bag.

"So, this is the first time I've seen you here," James says as he walks by your side. Noticing the path you're walking on and kicking a stone that's in your way.

"I just moved in. Elijah didn't want me living alone in a house in this condition," you tell him.

James just nods and holds your hand as you enter his yard. You held your breath as his hand touched yours again. It was like there was some kind of spark of electricity when your skin touched.

"My mum asked if we could have breakfast together before you go out," James says, opening the door to his house.

Before you can answer, you hear Euphemia's voice from the kitchen. Soon you hear footsteps running towards you.

"You've finally come," Euphemia says as she hugs you. After the hug is released, Euphemia leads you to the dining table, which is already filled with her family members. You can hear the sound of spoons dropping as Euphemia helps you sit down.

"Thank you, Mia. Sorry to trouble you so early," you say, feeling bad.

Unbeknownst to you from across the table, Sirius widened his eyes at you. There's no way you, his future wife is in front of him now. He turns to James who is currently smiling smugly at him. Damn it, if Sirius knew it was you he would have picked you up first.

"So you're the one Mia was talking about?"

You looked up as you heard a male voice coming from the head of the table. You smiled, it must be Fleamont, Mia's husband.

"That's right, once again I apologize for the interruption this morning."

"Nonsense, I've been wanting to see you ever since you gave my wife that beautiful painting," Fleamont replies which makes your cheeks flush.

You heard Euphemia who had finished filling your plate and asked you to eat. You eat your food slowly, before you can swallow your food an unfamiliar voice enters your ears again.

"It turns out that all this time my future wife was next to the house," said the person who made you choke.

"Sirius!"

"I'm sorry, Mia!"

You quickly drank the water that Euphemia placed in your hand. After finishing drinking you catch your breath. Then turn your head to the source of the voice.

"You must be Sirius?" you ask in a friendly manner. Sirius nodded his head before he realized you wouldn't be able to see.

"Yes, it's me."

"You must be very sirius to say something like that."

You can hear the laughter of what you believe to be Fleamont and James. Euphemia who saw your behavior could only shake her head.

"Mum, can I join you two for a walk?" James asked.

"Aren't you and Sirius going to meet Remus?"

"Remus can wait," replied Sirius quickly.

"I don't think so. We want to do ladies' time, without men," Euphemia replied casually.

Euphemia continued her breakfast regardless of the complaints from her two children. And you can only laugh listening to James and Sirius persuading Euphemia.

An hour later here you are. Walking with Euphemia in the park and eventually sitting under a tree eating ice cream and talking about trending fashion styles. It's more like Euphemia is talking and you are listening.

You can hear whispers coming from behind you. You smiled because you knew that James and Sirius were following you and Euphemia around like puppies. Soon you hear the sound of someone else approaching them, probably their friend Remus.

Remus, who had just arrived, saw his two friends following Euphemia and you. Remus looked at you silently, of course he remembered who you were. The girl whose face is still clearly imprinted in his head. Remus saw Euphemia who walked towards the bakery across the street and left you alone under the tree.

Soon he saw James and Sirius who ran towards you and sat right beside you. Remus followed them and sat next to Sirius. You who heard the sound of footsteps just turned your head to the source of the sound.

"You must be Remus?" you asked to make sure.

Remus smiled slightly at the sound of your voice, still delicate. He agrees to your question which makes you smile happily because you didn't guess wrong.

"Euphemia said you guys go to the same school and it's a boarding school," you tell them.

"That's right, it's called Hogwarts," James replies in a boastful tone.

"Hogwarts? Sounds really weird," you reply to James.

You hear Sirius who gasps at your words. How can you say Hogwarts sounds weird?

"It doesn't! Hogwarts is an awesome school. Don't get me started on the food. And quidditch," Sirius said in a passionate tone.

"What's quidditch?"

"It's–"

Before Sirius and James could explain in detail what quidditch was to you, Remus glared at them both. It wasn't long before you heard a chuckle from Remus that made you turn your head towards him. You've gotten better at recognizing someone's voice and where it comes from.

"Quidditch is like soccer, it's just a different name for it," he replied explaining to you.

You nodded in understanding. What a strange school.

"Euphemia also said you'll be starting in two weeks."

James and Sirius groaned at your words. They had just met you and in two weeks they would be back at Hogwarts. School in two weeks for the final year and let's not forget N.E.W.T. James and Sirius wanted to cry if they thought about it. Remus who saw the antics of his two friends could only shook his head.

"Yes, this is our last year of school over there. So, are you still in school too?" asked Remus carefully.

You smiled at that. Remus was very different from his two friends. He seemed calmer than James and Sirius who were very much excited.

"No, I graduated a few months ago. Just before my accident," you replied in a laid-back tone. All three of them fell silent as you told them that you had lost your eyesight in an accident.

Before you could talk again, Euphemia arrived with a lot of pastries in her hand. She looks at the three boys in front of you with a teasing glance. Remus who saw that could only clear his throat. Euphemia laughed softly as she placed the pastries she had bought in front of you and the boys, including Remus.

Euphemia moved James to sit next to you which made the boy protest but she didn't respond. Euphemia returned to talking to you about many things, ignoring the boys who were there.

#james potter x fem!reader #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james fleamont potter #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius orion black #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus john lupin #marauders x reader #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #marauders #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter

81 notes · View notes

hey-august · 2 days

Text

Hello and welcome to the virgin!buggy brainrot 🤡

WC: ~500 Warnings: NSFW, mdni, virgin!Buggy x GN!reader, mentions of oral -m receiving and of buggy pegging himself, first time sex, insertion sex

Buggy thought he knew what it would be like.

Surely it had to be like that one pity blowjob he received as a young captain trying to make a name for himself. He even had decades of practice by taking advantage of his body’s unique abilities to fuck his own ass.

So Buggy knew how it felt to have his dick in wet, hot warmth. To feel someone else move around him, to feel pressure, constriction, pleasure. He also knew the effort it took to shove, thrust, hump. He was ready to have sex.

But the moment his overly sensitive head touched your entrance, Buggy knew he was screwed. He was in trouble. This was nothing like what he experienced previously. The pirate eased himself in and was terrified.

You weren’t warm - you were hot. Boiling hot. And tight. But soft, so deliciously soft. How did he make it this far into adulthood without this intoxicating feeling?

Buggy had watched his own body accept his length, so why did it look different when it was you? Watching himself disappear inch by inch in you was the best thing he’s ever seen. Wait, second best - the look on your face right now was better. But it was also distracting. He needed to concentrate. Fuck, he was starting to sweat and he had barely started.

Shit, the way you reacted to every little thing he did was wonderful and seriously messed with him. Every sound, twitch, contraction, pulse, even the way you fucking looked at him - it was impossible for him to find a steady tempo. He felt feral and nervous. He wanted to ravage you and bring you pleasure. He wanted to come. But could he even do all that?

Your hand moved fast, working to bring your own bliss. Buggy was enthralled and distraught. He wanted to do that, but he could hardly remember to breathe right now.

And then, you gave him the sweetest gift. A kindness that he didn’t understand at first. You begged for him to come on you.

“Please, please, please, I want to watch you come on me. I need to feel it on my skin.”

So Buggy pulled out and fisted his slick length. This felt familiar, like a comforting hug. Any snide comments or anxious worries that you stopped him from fucking you were pushed away by the way you writhed underneath him. By the way your eyes darted between his dripping tip and blurred fist, up to his flushed and focused face. By your sinful praises, the way you begged, your decadent moans and groans as you chased a climax that arrived just as his own did.

He might have blacked out. Everything felt so good. Sounded so good. Maybe he died and went to heaven. Although heaven was sticky and damp. As his sweat soaked into the bed and then started to evaporate off his skin, Buggy moved closer to you. Closer to your warmth.

“Next time I wanna come in you.”

“It’s a deal, lover boy.”

Hopefully you didn’t notice how his soft dick tried to twitch when you laughed. What a wonderful sound.

Lover boy…maybe next time Buggy would try to make love to you. He wasn't sure how much it differed from sex, but he wanted to try. He wanted to love you.

#buggy smut #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy the clown #buggy x you #x reader #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #buggy the clown smut #one piece smut

101 notes · View notes

caffedrine · 3 days

Text

Kagari Amagase – The Beast’s Love is Unstoppable – Event Summary

This one gets pretty steamy, so MDNI. Seriously, If you have a parent/guardian/friend/partner/child who will be upset with me if you read steamy thirst-trap stories, don't read this.

This is mostly a summary for me - I make no promises on the accuracy of what’s happening. I’m not nearly fluent enough to get half the jokes/innuendo much less accurate plot points.

Kagari was coming to Rhodolite today, so a few hours before their appointed meetup time, Emma decided to go for a walk to calm her excited nerves.

Suddenly, she was dragged into a back alley, only to find Kagari right in front of her, pressing her against the wall. Their long-awaited reunion was unexpectedly moved up, and although she was happy to see him, Emma was more surprised. She notes that Kagari is early, and he explains that he wanted to see her face as soon as possible.

Yup, this is Kagari.

Emma admits that she has been on edge too, as she was anticipating seeing him again as well.

Kagari caresses her cheek with his hand, and warmth spreads to her heart. Emma wants to leisurely enjoy their reunion, but her first priority is getting Kagari into her home.

Suddenly Kagari’s face is close enough to hers that she can feel his breath on her face. He is excited to spend time with her and tells her to hold onto his shoulders tightly.

Alarm bells start ringing in Emma’s head as Kagari begins to position himself, his green eyes as hot and heavy as a thick syrup. Fighting against a spoiled general like Kagari is tantamount to fighting a losing battle, but Emma tries to prevail. She promises to hug and kiss him a lot – once they reach her home.

Kagari disagrees, what little patience he has ever possessed is gone, and they should start right now, right here.

Kagari entwines their legs, pressing fully against Emma, kissing her forehead, cheek, and neck. Emma squirms to escape, but if anything, Kagari becomes more excited. Between kisses, he mutters that her heartbeat is intoxicating, and her body is so hot. She’s so aware of him, and it’s so cute.

Emma complains when she feels Kagari’s teeth, but he assures her that he’ll be good and not leave any marks. Emma tells him that someone who does things like this outside is not a good person.

As expected, Kagari doesn’t care if they’re outside or not. While trying to keep her mind from clouding over at the intense feeling of Kagari’s body, Emma searches for the words that would set her free.

Eventually, she resorts to telling Kagari that she wants to take care of him without anyone bothering her, and to please let her go long enough for them to enter her home.

Practically carrying her, Kagari rushes towards Emma’s home at an alarming speed. Upon entering, Kagari murmurs that he loves her, without her all he can do is kill people. Unfortunately, Emma doesn’t think that he’s lying.

For several hours after they arrive at Emma’s home, all they did was sit on the bed with Emma in Kagari’s lap while she strokes his red hair. He buries his face in the nape of her neck like a pet, luxuriating in the feeling.

As Emma expected, time spent away from each other turns Kagari into a spoiled general.

She asks Kagari if he’s growing stiff or uncomfortable from having her in his lap all this time. Kagari assures her that he’s fine, he’s been looking forward to doing just this with her all this time. Her body temperature, her heartbeat, weight, smell, the feel of her skin, it’s all Emma. This is proof that Emma is finally by his side.

Kagari looks happy.

But now that Kagari is in her home, Emma has an obligation to be a host and entertain him. Also, if possible, to prepare dinner for him. But, when she moves to leave his lap, Kagari hold her tighter, refusing to let her go.

With is face still half-buried in her chest, Kagari looks up at her with a depressed expression. He still wants her to hold him and begs her not to leave him alone.

Emma assures him that she just wants to bring him tea and dorayaki.

Kagari does like tea and dorayaki, but more than that, he wants to be taken care of by his princess. Emma’s pet cat is purring, and she wants to leave him? It will be troublesome for her if the cat takes offense to that.

Yeah, Emma has been down that road before.

Once, and only once, Emma had been focused on reading and hadn’t paid enough attention to Kagari. It is still fresh in her memory how Kagari had reacted, and how she hadn’t been able to leave his bed for a full day afterwards.

Emma had thought that Kagari would spring for the dorayaki, but with his eyes gazing pleadingly up at her, begging her to pamper him, his lips parting as he rained kisses on her.

Fine, Emma can stay just a little bit longer.

Emma wonders if she will ever be able to win against Kagari’s smile.

Suddenly, one of the hands around her waist reaches up to stroke her head, combing through her hair. Emma is confused, and Kagari explains that while he was away, she must have felt lonely too. So, he will pamper her as well.

Kagari’s hand lowers and he strokes Emma’s back slowly, comfortingly.

It’s weird, being treated like she is a child. But, maybe because it’s Kagari, Emma is also feeling soothed. She had been pretending to be just fine, but in the end, she had been feeling lonely. With this realization, Emma buries her face in Kagari’s neck, embarrassed.

Kagari murmurs that she is becoming just as spoiled as he is. Emma disagrees, and Kagari wonders if she’s also becoming just as insensitive as he is. Emma squirms, the feeling of Kagari’s hands has changed.

Or, more specifically, he has removed his gloves and his bare hands have slid up her thighs, under her skirt. The moment she feels his fingers at the heat clothed by her underwear, alarm bells go off in Emma’s head. Again.

(Calling it now, his route is going to be a full on smut route)

Emma warns Kagari that the way things are going, they’re not going to be able to stop soon, and Kagari cheekily agrees.

Emma decides to throw away her reservations and adherence to proper host behavior, and just do what she wants, just like Kagari. She begs Kagari not to hate her even if she becomes a hopeless, selfish, spoiled brat for him. Kagari approves.

Emma is pushed down onto the bed, Kagari’s eyes are so sweet that they bind her beneath him. Kagari tells Emma that as long as he lives, he wont let her go. Not even if he dies will he ever stop loving her. Maybe she has become disillusioned with him time and time again, but Kagari can tell that Emma is always falling in love with him.

#ikemen prince #ikepri #kagari amagase

78 notes · View notes

bloodreinasbathwater · 16 hours

Text

My Sunshine

Jack Hughes X F!Reader

a;n i have been so excited to release this chapter. I really think you guys are gonna enjoy the next chapter of my Sunshine, i rote it when i was sad, so now you guys have to be sad too.

Warnings: pregnancy, arguing, toxic ex-boyfriend, suggestive wording lol, anxiety, fighting

masterlist link / previous chapters

Word Count - 3950

Two weeks later

17:35pm

Jack had just returned home from his snowy mountain vacation with Y/N, feeling lighter than he had in years. As he walked through the front door, the familiar warmth of his family's home enveloped him. His mother, Ellen, came bustling in from the kitchen, a radiant smile on her face.

"Jackie, my darling!" she exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug. "We've missed you so much. How was your trip?"

Jack chuckled, returning the embrace. "It was amazing, Mom. Y/N and I had such a wonderful time."

Ellen pulled back, her eyes shining. "Y/N, huh? Is she the special someone you've been telling us about?"

Jack felt a blush creep up his neck. "Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you and Dad about. Is he home?"

As if on cue, Jack's father, Jim, stepped into the entryway, a warm smile on his face. "There's my boy!" he said, clasping Jack's shoulder. "Welcome home. How was the trip?"

"It was great, Dad," Jack replied, glancing between his parents. "Listen, I - I've been thinking a lot about the future, and about building a family of my own. Y/N and I, we're getting really close, and I think I'm ready to take that next step."

Ellen's face lit up, and she clasped her hands together excitedly. "Oh, Jackie, that's wonderful news! When do we get to meet this special young lady?"

Jim chuckled, draping an arm around his wife's shoulders. "Slow down, El. Let the boy speak."

Jack smiled, appreciating his father's steady presence. "Well, that's actually what I wanted to talk to you both about. I was hoping you could come over for dinner sometime soon, so you can get to know Y/N better. I - I think I'm going to ask her to be my girlfriend."

Ellen practically squealed with delight, pulling Jack into another hug. "Oh, my darling boy, I'm so happy for you! Of course, we'd love to meet her. And Jim and I have been hoping for grandchildren, you know." She shot a pointed look at Jack's younger brother, Luke, who had just entered the room.

Luke raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, don't look at me. I'm still figuring this whole 'settling down' thing out."

Jim chuckled, giving Luke a playful nudge. "You'll get there, son. But your brother here is taking the plunge. We're proud of you, Jack."

…

20:41pm

Later that night, after his family had finally left, Jack found himself staring at his phone for what felt like the fifth time that day. Still no reply from Y/N. He let out a frustrated sigh, his brow furrowing as he tossed the phone onto the dining table with a little more force than necessary.

What was he doing wrong? Jack wracked his brain, trying to pinpoint where things might have taken a turn. Their trip to the snowy mountains had been absolute bliss - they'd spent their days cuddled up by the fireplace, sipping hot cocoa and talking for hours about their hopes and dreams.

Y/N had seemed so happy, so at peace. He thought for sure that when he got home, he'd be ready to take that next big step and ask her to be his girlfriend.

But now, radio silence. Jack couldn't help the doubts that crept in. Had he come on too strong? Pushed her too hard to commit? His family's eagerness to meet Y/N suddenly felt like too much pressure. Jack grabbed his dinner plate and headed to the sink, scrubbing at the ceramic with more vigor than necessary.

No, he knew in his heart that he hadn't done anything wrong. Their relationship had blossomed so naturally, built on a foundation of mutual trust and respect.

He'd made it abundantly clear that he was pursuing her, that he wanted a future together. So what could possibly be the issue?

Letting out a heavy sigh, Jack shuffled over to his bed, sinking down onto the soft mattress. He stared down at his phone, willing Y/N's name to light up the screen.

Maybe she was just busy - caught up in her writing or dealing with some other personal matter. The rational part of his brain knew he shouldn't jump to conclusions, but the anxious part kept whispering doubts.

Jack flopped back against the pillows, his mind drifting back to their trip. The way Y/N's eyes had sparkled in the soft firelight, the gentle brush of her hand against his as they walked through the snow-covered woods. He'd felt so at peace, so certain that she was the one he wanted to build a life with.

Letting his eyes drift shut, Jack tried to push away the nagging fears. With any luck, he'd wake up to her reply in the morning, and they could figure out whatever was going on.

All he wanted was to have what his parents had - that deep, abiding love and the chance to create a family of his own. But for now, he'd have to wait and see what the future held. Holding onto that hope, Jack felt himself drifting off to sleep, his phone still clutched tightly in his hand.

…

3:34am

Y/N felt the tension coiling in her stomach as she faced off against Jason. The air in her small living room felt thick with his toxic energy, his condescending tone grating on her nerves.

"Come on, Y/N, you know I can be a good father," Jason pressed, his voice dripping with false sincerity as he took a predatory step closer. "Just give me one more chance - I'll prove it to you."

Y/N held her ground, her heart pounding in her chest, her hand instinctively drifting to cover the gentle swell of her belly. Twenty-two weeks pregnant now, a secret she'd been guarding fiercely from the world, still terrified of the reactions she would inevitably face.

The thought of Jason worming his way back into her life, especially now, made her feel nauseous, her insides churning with dread.

"No, Jason. We're done," she said firmly, her voice steady despite the tremble threatening to betray her resolve. "This is my life, my choice. I don't need you in it."

But Jason wasn't one to take rejection lightly. His eyes narrowed into slits, his lips twisting into a cruel smirk that sent shivers down Y/N's spine. "You think you can just shut me out, huh? You're nothing without me, Y/N. Nothing but a scared little girl playing house."

Y/N's jaw clenched, her fists tightening at her sides as she fought to keep her composure. "I'm not scared of you anymore, Jason. I won't let you manipulate me because you’re lonely."

Jason's laughter was like nails on a chalkboard, grating and harsh. “you have no idea what you're getting yourself into. You'll come crawling back to me, begging for my forgiveness, just you wait."

He looked around the living room, his gaze settling on the photo of Y/N and Jack, taken during their blissful mountain getaway. Suddenly, realization dawned on his face.

"Who is that?" he demanded, jabbing a finger toward the image. "Who have you been seeing behind my back?"

Y/N felt her heart pounding in her chest as She stared at the photo, at the way Jack's arm was wrapped protectively around her, the adoration in his gaze, and now the image was tainted by the presence of Jason.

She could feel the familiar nausea bubbling up in her stomach, and she instinctively placed a protective hand over her growing belly. Swallowing hard, she turned back to Jason, trying to maintain her composure.

"That's none of your business, Jason," she replied, hating how her voice wavered. "I don't owe you any explanations."

"The hell it's not my business!" Jason exploded, taking another step forward. "You're carrying my child, Y/N. I have a right to know what's going on in your life."

"This baby is not yours, Jason," she spat, the words dripping with venom. "I'm going to raise it on my own, without you."

Jason's eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer to her. "Yeah, right. Like hell you are. I'm going to fight for my rights as the father, Y/N. You can't keep me from my own kid. Now I know you've been seeing someone else, Y/N, and I'm not going to just sit back and let you take my child away from me."

Y/N felt the walls closing in, the weight of the situation bearing down on her. She needed to get Jason out of her home, to protect herself and her unborn child.

She felt the tears welling up in her eyes, the stress and anxiety of the situation becoming too much to bear. "Jason, please, just go," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't deal with this right now. I need you to leave, and I need you to leave my baby alone."

Jason opened his mouth to argue further, but the sound of Y/N's phone ringing interrupted him. She glanced down at the screen, her heart leaping as she saw Jack's name. Taking a deep breath, she answered the call, hoping that his soothing presence would be enough to calm the storm that was raging within her.

…

Y/N felt a surge of relief wash over her as she heard Jack's voice on the other end of the line. "Jack, I-I'm so glad you called," she said, her voice quivering with emotion.

"Y/N, sweetheart, are you okay?" Jack's tone was laced with concern. "I just had this feeling that something wasn't right, and I had to check in on you."

Y/N glanced back at Jason, who was pacing the living room, his face twisted in a scowl. "I...I'm not okay, Jack," she admitted, her heart sinking. "My ex-boyfriend, Jason, he's here and he's...he's being so awful."

Jack's response was immediate. "Do you need me to come over? I can be there in no time, just say the word."

Y/N's heart ached at the offer, but she knew she couldn't accept. Not with Jason here and her pregnancy still a secret. "No, no, it's okay," she said quickly. "I just...I needed to hear your voice, that's all."

There was a brief pause, and Y/N could almost feel the concern radiating through the phone. "Y/N, sweetheart, what's going on?" Jack's voice was gentle, soothing. "Please, talk to me."

Y/N took a deep, steadying breath, trying to keep her emotions in check. "It's...it's complicated, Jack. Jason...he's been drinking,” Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible. “He's been yelling, saying things I don't want to repeat." She paused, biting her lip as she glanced down at her growing belly. "There's something else, too, but I...I don't know how to tell you."

"Oh, Y/N..." Jack's voice was laced with sympathy. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. I'm here for you, no matter what."

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get the words out, she felt a cold grip on her arm. She gasped, turning to see Jason standing in the hallway, his eyes blazing with anger.

"Who the hell are you talking to? " Jason demanded, his grip tightening painfully on her arm. He glanced at the phone screen and saw Jack's name. "Jack? Who's Jack? You think you can just talk to your little boyfriend behind my back?"

Y/N's heart pounded like a drum in her chest as Jason's grip tightened painfully on her arm. Panic surged through her veins, mingling with a fierce anger. She quickly ended the call, her hands trembling slightly.

"Let go of me, Jason!" she hissed, struggling against his unyielding hold. Her muscles were taut, shoulders hunched defensively.

Jason's eyes narrowed to slits, his face mere inches from hers. His breathing had grown ragged, hot puffs of air hitting Y/N's cheek. "Not until you tell me who this Jack is," Jason hissed.

Y/N's nostrils flared as she glared back at him defiantly. "He's none of your business!" she spat, shoving him away with all her strength. Her chest heaved with each rapid breath. Jason stumbled back a step, but his expression only darkened further.

He stepped back towards her, looming over her petite frame. "You think you can just shut me out, huh?" he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "You're nothing without me, Y/N. Nothing but a scared little girl."

Fury surged through Y/N, her fists clenching at her sides. She grabbed a pillow from the couch and hurled it at him, the fabric billowing through the air. "Get out! Get out of my life!" she screamed, her voice cracking with barely contained emotion.

Jason dodged the projectile, his eyes flashing with unbridled rage. "You think you can get rid of me that easily?" he growled, lunging towards her. Y/N quickly snatched up another pillow, clutching it defensively as her breaths came in ragged gasps.

In a sudden, calculated move, Jason pushed past Y/N and ran into her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. Y/N stumbled back, heart racing, and immediately started pounding on the door, her fists thudding against the wood. "Open the door, Jason! You can't just barricade yourself in there!" she cried, desperation lacing her voice.

The sound of thunder reverberated through her apartment, mirroring the tumult within her own heart. Jason ignored her, the distinct click of a lock echoing from the other side. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me about jack," he shouted back, voice muffled.

Tears of frustration and fear began to flow freely down Y/N's face as she continued her relentless assault on the door, her fists growing sore from the repeated impacts. "Jason! Open the door and leave! Please just leave," she croaked, the words catching in her throat.

But her pleas fell on deaf ears. Defeated, Y/N slumped to the floor, curling in on herself as the tears streamed down her face. She felt trapped, helpless, and utterly exhausted. Minutes ticked by like hours, the sound of the storm outside mirroring the turmoil inside her.

…

About ten minutes later, a loud knock echoed through the apartment, shattering the oppressive silence. Y/N jolted up from the floor, heart leaping with a glimmer of hope. She rushed to the door and flung it open.

There stood Jack, drenched from head to toe, rain dripping from his hair and clothes. His eyes were wide with worry as he took in the scene before him - Y/N's tear-stained face, the closed bedroom door.

Without a word, he stepped forward and gently gripped her arms, his gaze roving over her features with palpable concern. "Y/N, are you alright? What happened?" he asked, his voice low and soothing, betraying the evident fear in his eyes.

Y/N could only nod mutely, her throat too tight to speak. As Jack's hands moved to tenderly examine her arms, checking for any signs of harm, she found herself at a loss for how to react.

This was the same Jack who had always been there for her, who had cared for her so deeply - and now here he was, standing in the rain, soaked to the bone but unflinching in his concern.

"I heard the yelling, and then you hung up so suddenly," Jack murmured, his gaze searching hers. "I was so worried, Y/N. Please, tell me what's going on. Who's Jason? Did he hurt you?" The questions tumbled out, laced with a palpable fear for her wellbeing.

Y/N swallowed hard, her heart aching at the raw emotion in his voice. "I... I don't know what to say," she whispered, her hands trembling slightly. "Jason, he..." She glanced back at the closed bedroom door, her eyes narrowing in determination. "He's in there.”

Jack's expression hardened, his grip on her arms tightening ever so slightly.

The air crackled with tension as the bedroom door suddenly flew open, revealing a disheveled Jason. His gaze immediately landed on Jack, who had protectively placed himself in front of Y/N. For a moment, Jason simply stood there, eyes narrowed as he took in the scene before him.

The sound of the pounding rain outside filled the oppressive silence, a stark contrast to the volatile energy that radiated off the three of them. Slowly, Jason's expression morphed into one of pure, unbridled rage. His fists clenched at his sides as he stepped out of the bedroom, his gaze burning into Jack.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" he snarled, his voice dripping with venom.

Jack didn't back down, squaring his shoulders as he glared back at Jason. "I'm the one who's going to make sure you leave Y/N alone," he growled, his grip tightening protectively around Y/N's arm as he moved to shield her completely.

Jason's eyes flashed dangerously, and he took a menacing step forward. "You think you can just waltz in here and play the hero?" he hissed. "This is between me and Y/N. Stay out of it."

Sensing the impending confrontation, Y/N tried to interject, her voice trembling. "Jason, please, just go. This doesn't have to-"

But Jason cut her off with a harsh laugh. "Shut up, Y/N. You think you can just replace me with this pathetic excuse for a man?" He turned his attention back to Jack, his lips curling into a sneer. "You have no idea what you're up against."

Jack's jaw clenched, and for a moment, Y/N thought he might lunge at Jason. Instead, he stood his ground, his voice low and dangerous. "I know exactly what I'm up against. And I'm not going anywhere until you leave. This is your last warning."

Jason's eyes narrowed, and he took another step forward, his posture challenging. "Or what? You think you can take me on?"

Jack didn't flinch, his gaze unwavering as he stood his ground. "I don't want to fight you, Jason," he said, his voice low and measured.

Jason let out a harsh laugh, his lips curling into a sneer. "You really think you can protect her? I have every reason to be here.” He took another step closer, his movements predatory.

Without warning, Jason lunged forward, grabbing a vase from a nearby table and hurling it at Jack. Jack ducked just in time, the vase shattering against the wall behind him. Jack reacted quickly, ducking and countering with a well-placed jab to Jason's midsection. The force of the impact caused Jason to stumble back, momentarily winded.

Y/N watched in horror as the two men traded blows, their grunts and the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing through the apartment. She wanted to intervene, to call for help, but her body was paralyzed with fear.

In a sudden burst of adrenaline, Jack planted his feet, bracing himself, and then surged upwards, slamming his shoulder into Jason's midsection. The momentum caught Jason off guard, and he was thrown backward, crashing into the nearby wall.

Jason recovered quickly, his eyes blazing with fury. He surged forward, tackling Jack to the ground and raining down punches. Seizing the opportunity, Jack lunged forward, grabbing Jason by the collar and slamming him against the wall, his forearm pressing against Jason's throat. "This ends now," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Jason's eyes were wild, his chest heaving. "We have a family Jack, we’re supposed to be together. She’s trapped me with for life whether she wants to accept that or not," he hissed, his hands clawing at Jack's arm. "Y/N is mine. She'll always be mine."

"Stop this!" Y/N cried, but her pleas fell on deaf ears.

Jack's grip tightened, his face mere inches from Jason's. "She's not yours, and she never will be again," he spat. "Y/N is stronger than you, and she deserves so much better."

Mustering what little strength he had left, Jason suddenly lashed out, his fist connecting with the side of Jack's head. The impact caused Jack to stumble back, momentarily dazed.

Seizing the opportunity, Jason surged forward, shoving past Jack and heading straight for the open front door as he adjusted his clothing.

…

4:27am

Jack winced as Y/N began carefully dabbing at the cut on his cheekbone, her touch feather-light. "I'm so sorry, Jack," she murmured, her eyes full of concern. "I never meant for you to get caught up in this."

Jack reached up, his fingers gently brushing against her arm. "Hey, it's okay," he said softly. "I'm just glad you're safe." His gaze never left her face, captivated by the way the soft light played across her delicate features.

Y/N bit her lip, focusing intently on the task at hand. As she cleaned the wound, her fingers inadvertently traced the line of his jaw, marveling at the warmth of his skin. Jack's breath hitched at the intimate touch, and he found himself leaning ever so slightly into her hand.

The air between them crackled with unspoken emotion, a charged energy that seemed to hum in the small space. Y/N's heart raced, her eyes darting up to meet Jack's, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Slowly, almost instinctively, Jack reached up and gently cupped Y/N's face, his thumb caressing her cheek. "You don't have to apologize," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'd do anything to keep you safe."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her hands coming to rest on his chest. She could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat, a comforting rhythm that seemed to steady her own. "Jack," she breathed, her eyes shining with a newfound vulnerability.

Cautiously, Jack leaned in, his forehead resting against hers. Their noses brushed, and Y/N could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips, sending a shiver down her spine. In that moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving them suspended in a private bubble of tenderness and unspoken affection.

Y/N's fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and she closed her eyes, savoring the intimacy of their embrace. She felt safe, cherished – a feeling she hadn't experienced in far too long. And as Jack's arms wrapped around her.

She nestled closer, her head coming to rest against his chest, and let out a soft, contented sigh.

Jack tightened his hold ever so slightly, his chin coming to rest atop her hair. He could feel the tension slowly ebbing from her body, the initial fear and panic giving way to a fragile vulnerability. Gently, he began to trace soothing circles on her back, his touch feather-light.

"I've got you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're safe now, Y/N."

Slowly, she pulled back just enough to gaze up at him, her eyes shining with a tentative trust. "Thank you, Jack," she whispered, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "For being here, for... for everything."

Jack's heart swelled at her words, a tender smile playing on his lips. He reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his fingertips grazing her cheek. "Always, Y/N," he murmured. "I'll always be here for you."

Y/N felt a warmth blossom in her chest, and without thinking, she rose up on her tiptoes, pressing a featherlight kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Jack's breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening in surprise. For a moment, he was frozen, captivated by the warmth of her touch, the intimacy of the gesture. Then, almost instinctively, he cupped her face, his thumb tracing the delicate curve of her cheekbone.

Slowly, reverently, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a tender, unhurried kiss. It was a silent promise, a testament to the depth of his feelings - a promise to always be her anchor, her safe haven, in the storm.

When they finally parted, both were breathless.

"Come to bed with me Jack..."

…

Tag List <3

@fearfam69691, @alwaysclassyeagle, @rebelatbay, @dancerbailey3, @skepvids, @urbanflorals, @hischierswhore, @literatureluster, @voidohanax, @ivy-34, @bunbunbl0gs, @snailss, @ru-kru, @shawnshoney

83 notes · View notes

mitsua · 3 days

Text

Say that you love me

Warnings: mentions of feeling useless, reader gaslighting themselves

Genre: angst ➠ reverse comfort Pairing: Izuku Midoriya × GN! Y/N

Series: —𝐁𝐨𝐤𝐮 𝐍𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐀𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐚 Words count: 0.9k

Even if anyone told you they loved you wouldn't believe them anyways—but there was something deeper in you that told you that if that person—that if Izuku Midoriya told you he loved you, you would finally be able to rest. Stay in peace.

Just like how you felt anytime you were with him. You felt at ease with him, he was easy to speak with, kind, a good listener and a good talker too.

He showed you that he cared for you. But with that, you could see he cared about everyone as well.

Even if it was one of the traits that you so admired about him, you couldn't help but think you didn't hold an important part on his life as he did on yours.

So you kept pushing those thoughts aside, being kind in return and caring so much for him, maybe a bit more than you should have.

Because you only got in return a smile. Whenever you gifted him something, whenever you finished telling him your advice about his problems—he could only muster as smile.

Which you grew to love at one point, but seeing it after you saw one day how he quickly faked one one time he was ranting to you about his latest difficulty in a public area—with tears welling up in his eyes—and someone stumbled upon you two, you couldn't help but notice he'd do the same gesture to you too many times before.

Making you doubt if he ever flashed you a real smile.

You knew you had no right to judge him for it, because you really couldn't, you even gaslighted yourself into believing that you were fine even if it was a fake smile what he gave you.

But you'd grown tired, and maybe he did as well, so with a heavy heart you decided to confront him about it.

"I'm telling you, I'm fine," Izuku told you giving you a reassuring smile. it only made you cringe thinking just how useless you may seem to him to not even want to tell you what was wrong.

"I can see you're not, and I—maybe I can understand it if you tell me the truth," you answered back, trying to reach for him, the Izuku Midoriya you knew he's being trying to hide so close to his heart so no one could see him under his fake smiles.

"There's nothing else I can tell you, I'm fine." Izuku insisted, backing away from your touch. Which only made you feel more insecure about the possible outcome of all this.

"Was ever any smile you gave me real?" you decided to get straight to the point. Looking him death in the eyes.

Izuku froze at your words. What?

"Wh—What are you talking about? Of co—" "Really?"

"Izuku do you know how much it hurts to see you smiling to everyone and at the end of the day know you cry alone?"

"What are you talking about—"

"Izuku you're putting out of sight so much, you're holding so much and I can see it—I've seen it." You admitted with glassy eyes.

Izuku remained silent. The only movement he made was to turn to look at the ground, fidget a little with his shirt and then close his fists, you could see he was getting nervous and maybe a little anxious.

"Izuku, I'm not telling you this for you to try and hide even more your emotions, I'm telling you this to let you know you can count on me." Even if I can't count on you. Your mind straight up shot to your heart as an intrusive thought.

Thinking back about his kindness towards everyone made you think twice if what you just said could make anything better to you as with every passing day you'd feel a piece of yourself get lost whenever you saw him being gentle towards anyone but himself.

Finally you saw tears fall from the puff of his green hair that you were currently facing. You wanted to hug him, you really wanted, but as his recent actions spoke louder than the sobs that were scaping from him, you stood still, letting some tears of your own fall.

It was such a hard internal battle you were having while watching him crumble in front of your very eyes.

It was so much for your mind to process when he started telling you everything about how he developed this ability to feel better with himself and stay strong as the hero he wants to become.

Still it seemed it wasn't so much for your heart, which beated for him. It, deciding to finally move and embrace him, trying to communicate each and every feeling you had in yourself for him.

You laid all the love, admiration and devotion you had for him. You hugged him tightly as a sign of never wanting to let him go. Unsure if he could feel all that.

He could. Izuku felt secure, peace, at ease just as you felt with him at the beginning. He could finally see colors around him again and he was so glad and even happier to see you with him, spending your time with him. Comforting him, being there for him.

For the first time in god knows how long, he could say he loved someone. And he couldn't be happier for that one to be you.

𝚆𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚢: Mitsua © (𝙲𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜) ⌇ my navigation!

98 notes · View notes

delicatebarness · 21 hours

Text

cry baby | chapter nine

Summary: The makeover.

Warning: ???

Word Count: 939

Spotify Playlist

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: She's a short one but I hope it's okay! Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Each day that followed that evening in the bar, you battled to maintain your composure at work or amongst your friends. Your anxiety was only fueled by the continued whispers of accusations and suspicions. You needed a distraction, something to pull you out of the spiral of worry and guilt. And, you knew the ladies just for the job.

One evening, after a long day, you sent a text to your group chat consisting of only you, Natasha, and Wanda. You missed your girl's nights in with them, the times you shared laughter, stories, and secrets. As you typed out your text, an idea struck you - a makeover. You could use a refresh, something to break free from the cloud that loomed over you.

The next day, you arrived at their apartment with excitement and anticipation. “Ready to become a new you?” As you entered the apartment, Natasha teased as she gestured toward the many outfits and makeup products in the living area.

The apartment was cozy and inviting, the rooms filled with colors and their personal touches.

“Let’s get started!” Wanda exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as she entered from the kitchen, drinks in hand. “First things first, we need to pick out some outfits!”

You spent the next couple of hours trying on clothes, you laughed as your friends debated which of their styles suited you best. After some compromise between them, they settled on one of Wanda’s sleek, red leather jackets paired with Natasha’s dark jeans and a pair of combat boots - a look that you thought screamed confidence and strength.

You sat down as they got to work with your hair and makeup. Nat worked on your hair while Wanda focused on your makeup. “You know,” Natasha began, her voice gentle as she brushed your hair. “This isn’t going to make you any stronger, you’re already the strongest out of us all.”

Wanda nodded in agreement. “You’ve handled everything with grace, this is just for fun, okay?”

As they continued their work, you tried to stop your eyes from welling from their words. You knew this wasn’t about your physical changes, it was about embracing a new mindset, one where you could face the world without crying.

When you were done, you hardly recognized yourself. Your hair was styled with braids and a bandana, and your makeup accentuated your features. It gave you a bold, darker look. You felt like a different person, like someone who wouldn’t have trouble saying no to anyone.

“I don’t even know what to say,” you murmured, turning to face your friends. “Thank you,”

“Don’t thank us yet,” Natasha grinned. “We’ve got one more surprise for you.”

She led you to the front door as Wanda picked up an extra helmet and her keys. “We’re going to the bar,” she said, gesturing you to follow them. “Time to show off your new look.”

A hush fell over the bar as you stepped into the familiar room. An intensity rose as all eyes turned toward you and your friends. They flanked you as you walked toward your usual booth, their presence giving you an extra boost of confidence.

You noticed Steve, Bucky, and Sam were already at your booth. Their eyes widened in surprise as they saw you. The rest of the bar had similar reactions, quiet gasps and murmurs of appreciation filled the air.

“Wow,” Steve said, standing up to hug you. His expression shifted as he noted the lingering stares from the others in the bar. His protective instinct reveals itself. “You look amazing, Sis,”

Sam nodded in agreement, a playful smirk spreading across his face.

You blushed, “Thanks, it’s all thanks to Nat and Wanda.” Giving your friends a small smile, you gestured you were going over to the bar.

As you settled by the bar, Bucky’s eyes scanned the room, taking in the attention you were attracting. A group of men at the bar began whispering, and he noticed their glances toward you. He stood up and walked over to you, his large frame looming over you.

“You okay with all this attention?” he asked, his voice low as he leaned in closer. His gaze flickered back to the men, his jaw tightening.

You nodded, trying to keep your eyes dry.

He sighed staying by you as you ordered drinks for your group. The scanning of the room from Bucky didn’t stop, he sent uneasy glances toward anyone who looked your way.

You tried to explain to him how the makeover had made you feel like a tougher version of yourself, more like Natasha and Wanda. You hoped that maybe not looking like the ‘weak link’ would make you no longer be, just that.

After what felt like a while, he leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper. “So, you’re telling me,” he muttered, his breath warm against your ear, “you’re not going to cry if someone like… Rumlow came in here now and got this close to you?”

His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek, and a shiver involuntarily rushed down your spine. “Bucky, I…”

He didn’t let you finish, your gaze locked with his as his face was mere inches from yours. Your heart raced at the intensity between the two of you. “What about this close?” he asked as he moved his hand lower, grazing his fingers lightly over the exposed skin on your neck.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your emotions. “No… I know you’d never let him this near.”

A smile spread across his face, his expression softening. His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, “That's my girl.”

---

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#cry baby series #cry baby #bucky barnes x cry baby #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x rogers!reader #biker!bucky #biker au #steve rogers x sister!reader

71 notes · View notes

haveateadude · 3 days

Text

bleak horizons

summary *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ yeah, okay. maybe you're sad.

warnings *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ depression, self-harm, mommy issues (dw there's A LOT of fluff and cuddles and hugging and it all ends up alright) this is just talked about but it can still be triggering!!!!! pls take care of yourselves!!!!!!!! my dms are open :)

author notes *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ wasn't planning on posting this but i love validation. also, this is not like cannon ellie i guess?? i did a really bad characterization bc i used this as a vent and i just wanted comfort lmao. hope this still makes y'all feel seen or fucking something. btw this first part is really boring hehe, i wrote this when i was in a rush and in a train and i was tired and sad so i don't mind if it flops lol

i hate this so much idk why i'm posting this as my first pots. aghh. here u go ig. don't hate on me. bye.

(not proofread, sorry abt that)

pt1 — pt2

you look so out of it

pull it together

we can love you

forever and ever

I've recently moved in with Ellie after weeks of looking for someone to move in.

I had checked other apartments, but this was the one that didn't smell like there was a corpse under my feet, hidden from the light beneath the floor and it didn't look like it was haunted by ghosts. The walls weren't chipping away, also, so that was a plus. There's no denying that getting used to living with someone else was difficult, but it was the only alternative to live away from my parents. Not to mention I had developed feelings for Ellie—she's beautiful, with those eyes and auburn hair, and her tattoos just make her look fucking badass.

After a few weeks, I settled in with her: we both have a routine, and established unspoken rules, and now it's comfortable living with her.

Tonight was a lovely night—I had already finished everything I had to do, and I didn't have an exam until next week, probably—until I got a call from my mother. I know I can't run away from this one. She always threatens to unroll me from college and take me home when I don't answer her calls. And I know she's capable of doing so.

“Hello?” I said as I went out to the kitchen, to take a glass of water.

“You know, most people say something sweet when they answer their mother.”

I roll my eyes, even if she can't see me. It was just a fucking hello.

“What happened, Mom?” I ask, not wanting to fight.

She takes a second to answer, “Well—I was looking at some resources and there are a lot near your area…”

“Resources about what?”

“Therapy. Conversion therapy.”

It takes all of myself not to gasp, or cry. I don't know. I hear Ellie going out of her room, and walking towards the kitchen. I don't care if she's here; I haven't been caring about anything these past few days.

“Okay,” Is all you say. I don't know how to answer, or what to do. I leave the glass on the aisle with trembling hands.

“That's all you have to say?”

“I—I don't know what you want me to say.”

“‘Thank you’, maybe?” I stay quiet, I don't want to thank her, I don't want her to speak to me ever again. “You could also get therapy for, you know…”

“For what, mother?”

“The cutting. Your scars—I always thought they looked repulsive. No one is going to lov—”

I hung up before she could say anything else. I hate her. I hate my mother. I can't even believe she's a mother, let alone mine. I suddenly feel the need to hurt, and I hate to admit it, but my mother has always been right about the way they look—so I just shut my eyes and try to breathe. It always helps—deep breathing, that is. I have to remind myself that I'm clean. I've been clean for months. Maybe even a year, I lost count.

“You okay?”

Ellie's voice almost makes me flinch, already having forgotten about her. I open my eyes as she walks over to me and lays her elbows on the aisle, while I rest my back on the counter behind her.

I look at her, with a knot in my throat, “I'm fine.”

“Your mother…” She makes a pause, short enough to not make me go crazy, “Is she, like, a pain in the ass?”

I chuckle at that as I cross my arms, “Yeah.”

“If it gets too bad, you can talk to me. I don't mind. And my dad has some contacts, we can maybe scare your mother away.”

“It's okay,” I tell her with a smile. “I can manage.”

“I know,” She smiles, and I can feel my heart fluttering in my chest.

Before I say anything I regret, I go to your room with my door open—a technique I've acquired to avoid hurting myself.

I sit at my desk and look up conversion therapy first, I want to know what this is all about—I know that it's harmful to people in the community, that it leaves you screwed and fucked up. I don't like what pops up on my screen, so I close the tab and go to another one—where I search for therapy. The real one.

I went to a lot of therapy sessions, but my mother was always behind them, so I don't know if it ever was effective. I like this one a lot better. It should be helpful. It will help, I know that for a fact.

I'm having dinner with Ellie, which we normally do—today we ordered, since we were hungry and it always takes a little while to prep a meal—when I think to ask her about the topic.

“Do you know any therapy center?” I ask her. “Or the number of a therapist? Whatever.”

If she's curious, she doesn't show it. She stops chewing on her food, then looks at me; then continues to chew, and after she swallows she speaks, “Sure, I have some friends that go to the same therapist, so it's completely trustworthy, I guess. I can ask for the number.”

I wipe my mouth with the napkin on my side, “Yeah, that'd be alright.”

Ellie takes a sip from her cup and then looks at me, “You okay, though…?”

“I'm fine, just—you know, making sure everything's okay.”

She nods, “Got it—I was just asking.”

After my first therapy session, I ended up tired. My therapist—which feels weird to say out loud and even in my head—is a nice lady in her thirties who looks like a hippie.

I've realized I tend to lie a lot—I didn't talk about self-harm or my mother. Or anything else, really. Just about the movie Speak, and then almost cried when talking about the weather.

So, “Yeah, it went well,” is my answer when Ellie asks how it went, sitting in her car. She picked me up since I had taken my car to maintenance.

“Okay, then,” she says once the car engine starts. She connects her phone to Bluetooth, and we listen to music for a while. Ellie places her hand on my knee when I start bouncing my leg, which sends shivers down my spine and gives my brain something to think of that isn't any of my shit. “Do you want to go eat something?”

“Sure,” I accept. Her thumb makes little circles on my knee. I wonder if she knows what she's doing, her eyes are still fixated on the road. My heart does the flutter thing that it did a few days back again, and my core heats up.

She doesn't want you, I try to convince myself. She's your friend, she doesn't want you. She will fall in love with you, not your brain nor your scars, and when she finds out about the way you think she'll leave.

When we arrived at the restaurant, we ordered a plate together, since we always share and the food here comes in big sizes that we wouldn't finish if we ate it separately.

When we arrive at the restaurant, we order a plate together, since we always share and the food here comes in big sizes that we won't finish if we ate it separately.

“So, how's work?” I ask when we're waiting for our food.

“It's going well, I guess.”

“You guess?”

"I just hate my boss."

I furrow my eyebrows, “do you want to talk about it?”

“It's fine, he just sucks. But well, Jesse is postulating to—you know, be a boss; that fucker.”

I chuckle, “Well, I like Jesse.” I soon realize what I said, and my cheeks go red. “Not in a, uh, romantic way or anything. You know. Fuck. He's just nice.”

“Just nice?”

“I like you better than him,” I blurt out, which only adds to my embarrassment.

Oh, oh.

I like Ellie.

Fuck, yeah. You do.

Who am I kidding, I knew I did. From the start—from the first time she looked at me, for the first time touched my hand and spoke to me; for the first time she played guitar for me and made dinner because she knew how tired I was.

Ellie is flushed. I can tell.

“Oh, do you?” She asks with a grin.

The waitress comes with our food, and leaves the plate. I look at her, she looks at me at Ellie and then leaves.

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and lay my elbow on the table, with my chin propped up in my hand.

“What if I do?”

She bites her lip, looks at mine and then at the food, “The food's getting cold.”

What the fuck. What the actual fuck. Did that actually happen, or was it my imagination? Holy shit. Shit! Fucking fuck.

It leaves me thinking, but my thoughts leave when I hear her laughter after I crack a joke.

We take the stairs up the apartment, and we laugh all the way up. We just laugh and laugh and laugh because she said something and now I'm almost falling to the floor from how much my stomach hurts.

“Stop,” I say when we get to our apartment door. I keep laughing because Ellie's laughing too and she can't open the door. “My stomach hurts.”

She looks at me and laughs. Idiot. I laugh, too.

“Hey!” We hear our neighbor say. “Quiet down!”

“We're sorry!” I exclaim back, as he closes his door.

Ellie giggles, “You're so fucking dumb, I'm not sorry at all.”

“Shut up,” I say.

“Oh, make me.”

And then—oh, god—and then, and then she looks at me as the curvature of my lips goes down, and then I kiss her.

I kissed her. I fucking did. Me, not her—not Ellie's brave and confident ass, but mine. The butterfly in my chest flutters harder when she kisses back. She puts both of her hands on my waist and deepens the kiss, while my hand moves from her cheeks to her neck, then finds its way to her torso.

Ellie manages to open the door without breaking the kiss, and then she shuts the door with her foot.

“We should—” I speak between kisses. “Ellie—couch.”

“Yeah, okay. Okay.”

Our tongues fight, but our souls mend and I find my way to her in every sense.

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #the last of us 2 #tlou #mental health awareness #ellie williams x y/n #wlw #lesbian #depression awarness #idk what is this #fic

56 notes · View notes

totothewolff · 2 days

Text

Season of Love (8/?)

+18 | Toto x reader fem!teamprincipal, romance, comedy, and some good drama.

Summary: One night on a pier in Monaco, while admiring the sea under the night skies, you tell Toto: "I came to the conclusion that love is simply not meant for me." That's the answer to a question you have been asking yourself for the longest time. But what if he proved you wrong? Author's note: This is a multichapter Toto Wolff x team principal reader fic set along a season of F1. It's a very immersive story full of drivers, team dynamics, races, mystery, and smut. You just bought the Williams team, but nobody really knows who you truly are.

< Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

The Color of Truth is Blue Arc Chapter 8: Safety car needed

Trigger warning: Child trauma, abuse.

Belgium

And to think Toto felt guilty enough about hiding from you his decision to get back with Susie and try to make things work with her, giving himself the hardest time for it while you had been married this whole time!

The two of you are truly made for each other since none of you have morals.

He wants to grab the helmet on the clear glass coffee table inside his remote office before him and smash it against it, but he contains himself.

Instead, he stands up to pour himself a drink that's almost pure alcohol and just a bit of ice, frantically prancing around the room.

This GP is "hometown" for you guys.

Mathew's assistant has zero problems fitting it into his busy schedule, so he can assist in your name.

It's not that you do much for the team, anyway. You are more like a figure to lift the morale and PR the team and its sponsors around.

Mat looks excited to be at the paddock. He loves the attention he is getting. He remained as far from it as possible for obvious reasons, but now it seems like an excellent time to join in the fun.

Mainly because he feels like it, and when he likes something, he has it.

Now that the real boss is in town, people need to get used to his presence and his long list of shenanigans.

Get a grip!

The weekend at Spa starts with the now-usual FIA meeting. On this occasion, everyone is on time.

The group is gathered in the final rows of chairs in another world's saddest meeting room. As always, they are messing around while they wait for the meeting to begin.

—This carpeting looks out of a 70's Vegas casino —Seb mentions, looking around his feet.

—It's giving "cheap motel," —Charles adds.

—It's giving "crime scene" —Samanta joins in.

Toto and Fred enter the room, beverages in hand, gossiping.

Woaff! Lewis notices that Toto looks rough. His hair is messy, and big dark circles are under his eyes. Also, he seems reddish on the cheeks. Is he drinking at work?! Lewis recognizes that kind of blush on him.

—It's giving "once someone died in here" —Checo jokes as he pictures a silhouette drawn with chalk while staring at the floor.

—It's giving "I think I saw this place in Law & Order" —Millie says.

—How many hours of L&O have you seen? —Mick changes the topic, knowing Millie is a fan.

—More than needed —she admits.

—So you weren't joking when you said, "I go and put Law & Order on any device before a race as my race ritual"? —George looks at her, eyes widening and holding a giggle.

Sam interrupts as Millie is about to answer: —Elvis has arrived.

All their heads turn to the door as Matthew swags in.

—Armani ani ani ani —Millie sings Megan The Stallion style. —He looks so stylish in that suit! Hot!

—He is your boss, dude! —Oscar says and looks at her, chin up.

—And married to my wife! Who's also your boss. So more respect, please —Lando adds.

—Does that make you her father? —Sebastian jokes, pointing at the blonde.

—Are you Millie's dad?! —Lewis joins in, acting shocked.

—Dad?! —Millie turns in his chair to face Lando, wide eyes and arms reaching for a hug.

—You all stupid —Sam laughs, enjoying the exchange.

Mathew being the annoying ass he is, goes straight to her and drops in the chair next to Sam, placing his arm around her shoulders. —Amelia, hi! —Mat addresses her with a big-ass smile and stunning blue eyes staring at her.

—AMELIA?!! —everyone but Millie lets out in shock.

—How lovely to see you! —Sam greets him with a "fuck you!" gaze but answers with the sweetest voice.

—Yes, that's her middle name, you didn't know?! —Mat asks the group, pretending to be shocked, knowing she hates that name.

Then, the FIA deputy enters and asks Mathew to join him upfront since they are addressing the whole Lenkov situation and the new safety on paddock protocols with the drivers for the first time.

—Well, now that everything is clear, I will leave the microphone to Mr. De Vos to introduce himself...

—Yes, take off your shirt and tell us —Lando jokes in a low voice, next to Millie, discreetly bumping her and laughing low.

Those fuckers.

Everyone looks bored as Fred goes forever after grabbing the mic to discuss the car skidding due to fluids and oil spills on the pitlane.

—No, you guys. I like this topic! I identify with it since I'm also fluid —Millie adds, all confident and open.

—Genderfluid? —Seb smiles big at her, eyes sparkling at her gutsy statement.

—I love the gender fluids —Lando jokes, with a cheeky innuendo as usual.

—I wouldn't mind some gender fluids instead of this, mate —Dani adds.

—I would have the gender fluids, please! —Mick jokes, pretending to raise his hand.

—I'm feeling my gender-fluids right now —Millie colorfully adds while looking at Mathew.

—What fluids is he talking about?! —George asks, serious, not recalling watching spots or brushes on the pitlane, unable to hear Fred accurately and utterly unaware of the jokes around.

—The genders —Seb and Millie answer simultaneously before bursting out laughing, watching a perplexed George.

Everyone in the room turns their heads to them.

—Oh shit!

As soon as the doctors inform you that you can leave the hospital, your team moves you to the Manor, where Mathew insists you take a break and rest before putting a foot back on the paddock, much to your complaints.

He lets you know he will handle it while you are gone, and not enough "I'm fine!" on your part makes him change his mind.

Nothing good will come out of this with him there, you know that!

The press is desperate to get an interview out of Mathew, and the photographers already love him, a cloud of lens following him around.

With those looks, impeccable suit, and swag, who wouldn't want to snap his picture?

But his security has him covered.

A new and hot Sky Sports reporter approaches him, and he lets her slide in, with a microphone in hand and a cameraman following her.

Mathew gives her an exclusive interview, instantly switching to his most charming, funny, and sweet persona. He shines under the lens, showing his big, bright smile with gorgeous teeth.

Mat reaches the reporter's ear when the interview finishes and the cameraman lowers the lens. —Tower Suite 1898 The Post, 7:00 p.m., don't be late. I'm fucking you in dark lingerie and ankle-strap black high heels.

She nods, all blushing, knees shaking at his invitation.

Okay, Toto can't resist it anymore. He promised he wouldn't do it, but he can't. It's driving him nuts.

He opens his iPad and smashes the keywords on the Google search bar, typing "Mathew De Vos."

A ton of links and information show up.

"Cambridge Faculty of Law Board Member, Masters in Corporate Law, PhD. in Law, former ONU ambassador, former Interpol Associate"

Toto closes those taps after reading them and moves to the next more frivolous ones.

"#4 on World's Richest Men, #2 Billionaires Under 30, #2 GQ's Stylish CEOs"

In all his status, Mathew appears married, and in most of his interviews, he always mentions his wife, you, which hurts him.

Okay, but what does Matthew do right now? Why buying an F1 team? There's nothing linking him or you to the sport. Could it be just for a hobby?

"Current investor and CEO of Little Heroes Global: Safeguarding Minors Around the Globe."

Okay, there's still no connection. Maybe it was just a good business deal?

Toto keeps reading and then moves to trashier, gossipy sites.

Le Soir

Brussels, 2004.

Tragedy strikes De Vos family as helicopter crash kills parents, leaving 16-year-old son heir.

A devastating helicopter crash in the rolling hills of Belgium has claimed the lives of Victor and Lina De Vos, leaving their 16-year-old son, Mathew, the sole heir to their vast family fortune.

According to eyewitnesses, the De Vos family was on a routine flight from their estate in Wallonia to Brussels when the helicopter suddenly lost control and crashed in a nearby field. The accident occurred at approximately 10:45 a.m., with rescue teams arriving on the scene within minutes.

"It was a scene of utter devastation," said Alfred Van der Meer, a local farmer who witnessed the crash. "I saw the helicopter go down and then... grey clouds."

Victor De Vos, a wealthy businessman and billionaire, was 45 years old at the time of his death. His wife, Lina, was 42.

The couple was known for their philanthropic efforts and various charitable organizations throughout Belgium.

Mathew De Vos, 16 years old at the time of the accident, is now the heir to his father's business empire and the family's Manor. The exact value of the estate is unknown, but insiders close to the family suggest that it could be worth hundreds of millions.

"We are still trying to come to terms with this tragedy," said Michel Droveb, his godfather, a family friend, and business associate. "But we are all relieved that Mathew is safe and will be able to carry on his parents' legacy."

As news of the tragedy spread, tributes poured in from around the world. "The De Vos family was a shining example of generosity and kindness," said King Leopold II of Belgium. "Their loss is a great blow to our nation."

Funeral services are scheduled for next week at the St. Michael's Cathedral in Antwerp.

In the meantime, Mathew De Vos has been taken under the wing of his family's trusted advisors and is expected to continue his parents' business endeavors.

As he begins his journey as one of the world's youngest billionaires, Mathew De Vos has vowed to honor his parents' memory by using his wealth to make a positive impact on the world.

"We will continue to give back to our community and support those in need," he said in a statement. "My parents would want nothing less."

The exact cause of the crash is still under investigation.

Toto finishes reading the old entry on the news site, a bit pale and shocked. That may explain some of Mathew's attitude.

He locks his iPad after indulging himself too much and thinks it's enough. Toto has more important things to do.

As soon as you are allowed to leave the bed, you go visit Mat's mom since you miss her very much. You walk there barefoot, feeling the cold wood and stone floors of the Manor all the way to the next wing.

She is peacefully lying in bed. The massive room is full of bright natural light, and a fresh and stunning bouquet of her favorite flowers is placed on the nightstand next to her, filling the room with a delicious scent.

You want to tell her all about your new life and the people you have met, and as you share everything about Toto with her, you get emotional and overwhelmed.

So when Mathew arrives there after searching for you, he finds you crying while holding her limp hand.

He comes closer and sits at the border of his mother's ICU hospital bed, placing himself between it and the armchair where you are sitting at.

The room remains quiet, just the sounds of the life support pieces of equipment keeping his elderly mom alive, in a coma, but still.

He tenderly kisses her mother's temple before facing you, leaning his body in to wipe the tears sliding down your cheeks.

—Tell me what's hurting you to fix it? —compassion and care fill his eyes.

—This has no fix. Damage is done —you stare down at your hands before adding: —But going out to dinner can help me feel better.

He nods. —I know the place.

Sam joins you for breakfast at the Manor the following morning, where you tell her every detail about the plan, now being able to, and how it went.

—Then Pascal played one for the team again! —she says before grabbing a portion of her pancakes.

—I'm worried about him. I hope he is safe and well. —you express with deep concern, much to Mathew's dislike.

—Oh, he is. He let me know days ago —Mat says in the most nonchalant, neutral voice while picking his fruits.

—What?! Why didn't you tell me?! I've been worrying all these past days! —now you sound exasperated at him.

A "here we go!" face sets on Sam.

—You needed to rest! No further point! —Mat continues, still not caring, as if nothing was wrong.

—Stop telling me what I need! —you raise your voice at him, now you are mad!

He looks up and stares at you with an icy look but doesn't reply; he continues having breakfast as if nothing is happening.

One day, you will lose it with Mathew's controlling and psycho moves.

You regain your composure and add: —This can't keep happening! I need to know the things that involve me right at the moment!

—Understood —it's all he says.

—And what about Lenkov? Any whereabouts? —Sam says, pushing topics, used to witnessing you fight.

You text Seb to let him know you are at the Manor now.

—I'm glad! But where's that?! Do you own a manor? It doesn't sound much like your style! Ah, and thanks for answering back!

—Sorry for the delay in replies! I was resting. Shit! I forgot you don't know about it. Let me ask Mat if you can pop by. He is very particular about who is allowed here.

—No worries! I can ask him myself. I'm watching him right here.

Seb puts his phone inside his red tracksuit pocket, scooters down the pitlane to Mat beside Michael, and chats casually with the men in German before asking him the question.

—Wait, Seb!

Seb doesn't read your text. Seb takes Mathew entirely by surprise.

Mathew allows him to visit you, sensing Vettel is kind and has some guts to reach him.

When you return to the Manor, feeling tipsy after drinking a lot in that sports bar where you watched the race in secret.

Your heart sank every time Toto appeared on screen, looking as handsome as ever but without acting playful in front of the camera.

Sebastian is already in the old drawing room, waiting for you and chatting with Mat in a friendly way, which is rare. Damn, time flew by!

—And there she is! Hello, drunk! —Seb greets you as soon as you enter the room.

Mathew sends you a cold look, which you defiantly ignore.

—Bee guy! —you reach Seb and give him a warm hug. —Podium, heh!

—I know! Third place! Not that bad for this old man?! Tell Millie to leave me to win sometime, one win this season, pretty please! —Seb smiles big at you.

—No way, Jose! I'm sorry for making you wait with this one! —you point to Mat with your thumb.

—Alcohol produces brain damage, and you need cold water and food! I see you two at the dining table.

Mat exits the room, annoyed; he hates alcohol, cigars, drugs, sugar, and everything that's unhealthy for the body.

—Does he always swags all moody like that? —Seb asks, following him with his eyes, raising his eyebrows.

—Oh yeah —you let out a giggle.

You love Vettel.

—And those are your parents, right? —Seb asks, observing the massive regal oil painting of a family of three hanging on the wall by the exquisite wooden crafted stairs before sensing the atmosphere changing.

He got offered a tour of the Manor.

—Yes —Mat answers solemnly, you two standing near Seb while he leans to peek. All alcohol is out of your system by this point.

—Do the eyes follow you around as you walk past? —Vettel jokes in the most Sebastian way possible.

A smile forms on Mathew's lips. —It sometimes shakes too. You know when father disapprovals! —he pats Seb a bit too hard on the back.

—It's a bit too much, isn't it? —you join in. Shruging your nose, looking at the old painting.

—Yeah —both men agree, letting out in unison.

—You were such a cute kid. What happened?! —Seb teases Mat.

—Life, life happened to me —he answers, more honest than joking, oblivious to Seb, clear to you.

Why is Mat acting open and friendly with him?

—Ta-dah! This is my room! —you invite Seb to hang out in a more private space, taking him to the last spot of the tour.

Mathew had already left to the wing of the Manor that is his. He always hides in there; sometimes, you even forget he exists or that you were supposed to live with him.

—So this is where you grew up? —Seb is curious and naturally funny, so he is already playfully peeking into your drawers, looking at the Polaroids on the wall, and checking the decor. —Oh wow, baby Sam!

He points to a picture where "kid Sam" and a younger Alexi, Mat, and you appear.

—Yeah, that's about when I arrived here, and no, I didn't grow up here —you shake your head several times. —I wish!

Now, Seb is confused. Mat just told him you two lived together "since you were kids." —Then, where?

—Here, take a sit —you invite him to hang on the sofa in front of the big stony fireplace as it lights the huge room. The night is fully set, and the air in the countryside is cold. —Bare along...

This story is not a happy one.

You will never forget that big old mansion in the woods where you grew up. Your oldest memories start there at age four.

You had no idea who your mom was; you had never met her, only your nanny, who cared for you and your baby sister, a cute five-month-old girl, a chubby, healthy baby with pink cheeks.

You loved holding her; she always wrapped her fingers around your thumb and tried to get your long, shiny hair into her mouth, which made you giggle.

You let her play with your teddy bear; she is the only one allowed to grab "bon-bon."

You love wrapping big bowties around its plushie neck, and your papa occasionally gifts you colorful and shiny ribbons.

Every day, you take lessons with a rigorous and cruel governess who teaches you manners and scolds you when you do things wrong, calling you an animal and a brute whenever she loses her patience with you.

You don't like how she treats you, but you don't notice anything wrong with it. It feels ordinary to you.

The following day, your nanny wakes you up early and tells you they have important guests coming over, and you must look pretty to welcome them.

She combs your hair roughly and, in a rush, pulls it into a tight bun as instructed while you are on your feet on top of the makeup chair.

She puts you into a puffy chiffon dress and starts applying you makeup, which you love. You like all those things: hairstyles, dresses, makeup, nails, glitter, and sparks.

When you see yourself in the mirror, you look like a doll that belongs on a shelf as you stick your tongue out and make silly faces at your reflection.

She then takes you downstairs to your favorite room of the large house. The playroom is colorful and has many toys to play with; it's a shame you always play alone.

You go inside and grab a couple of plushies and a plastic tea set when you notice several stern and tall men watching you.

You feel a little bit shy under their stares; among them is a man who looks intensely at you.

He is a tall, silver-haired, muscular man with captivating eyes and a dangerous smirk that could charm the devil himself.

Standing next to him are gunmen and two large menacing dogs guarding him.

Another group of gentlemen join him before they all enter your dad's office, a forbidden ground for you.

After a while, everyone exits the house's entrance door and leaves, but the silver-haired man stays longer.

You have seen him before; he is your daddy's boss.

Sometimes, they have meetings, and whenever he is at the house, they get you all cute-looking and rushed downstairs.

He always asks for you and handles you expensive gifts every visit.

You get distracted by him bringing you cake; all you want is a slice. The merengue looks delicious and smells like vanilla.

Your dad and the man come closer to you. He greets you brusquely, caressing your cheek.

Now that you are near him, you look terrified at the two scary Dobermans monitoring your every move.

—They don't bite unless I command them to —He looks at the muscular animals. —So be a nice girl —he jokes with you.

You reach closer to your dad's leg, trying to hide behind it, but he neither pats nor reassures you.

—Status on her training? —the silver-haired man asks.

—She is about to start it, sir.

—When it gets done, send her to me —he instructs with an authoritarian voice but nonchalant.

He brushes his hand on your hair before he heads out of the big, beautiful wooden entrance door.

As the days go by, you start to spend more and more time studying with your governess.

That cruel woman seems to be under such stress of quickly teaching you many things, so she behaves even more viciously.

Your German, French, and English lessons feel too much for your little brain. No six-year-old should feel this pressure on herself; all you want to do is play.

You get moody and start to cry, not being able to take it more; you are tired!

Suddenly, you feel a painful sting on your cheek; your dad slapped you hard for whining. —Stop crying, behave! —He commands you.

And you do so.

You are in the staff's kitchen, sitting on a high barstool, legs swinging in the air, while the cook prepares the meal.

You ask her to make you a sandwich, but she tells you you are no longer allowed bread or carbs.

That kitchen leads outdoors to the massive gardens by a backdoor; it's a vast property.

Another prominent building sits right across the field, in the distance, behind some bushes and trees.

You are not allowed out, and you are not allowed to go near there.

But you are a curious and strong-willed girl, after all.

You peek through the window and see two little boys and girls walking from room to room inside the other property. You want to go and play with them, as you are always among grown-ups.

The cook follows your gaze and rushes you out of the kitchen and back to the living area.

It's late at night, and you wake up to the sound of your stomach growling.

The house is so quiet, as everyone is sleeping, and it's the perfect moment for you to sneak to get ice cream.

You risk going to the kitchen after your curfew because you feel hungry from the small portions they have given you lately.

For some reason, they have been measuring and weighing you daily.

You navigate the large house's hallways, avoiding making a sound. Your steps softly creak on the wooden floors unnoticed, which is why you are barefoot, which is also not allowed.

You finally make it to the kitchen and, on your tiptoes, take the big bucket of ice cream out of the freezer and to the countertop.

You are short for your age, which makes you look younger and even more adorable. You are such a cute, tiny girl.

You hop on the stool and eat the chocolate ice cream straight from the bucket with a big spoon, licking it; chocolate goes all over your collar and lips.

If the governess saw you doing this, she would lock you in the closet. She had done it before and made you spend an entire night there for disobedience.

You cried hard for your dad. That place was cold and dark, but he never showed up.

You catch movement with the corners of your eyes outside the large window into the garden's bushes, the same window from which you peeked out earlier.

A small shadow moves quickly, and you get a bit scared, but curiosity makes you reach closer to the window's glass, your nose almost touching it. It feels cold, it must be freezing outside.

You catch a small girl hiding in the bushes and dropping to the dirt quickly as she notices you.

The door to the outside is just steps away. What if you go help her? She looks distressed and must be cold!

You know you are not allowed to, yet you go.

You expect the door to be locked, but you open it easily.

You hear a soft beep as you set foot outside on the deck. Then the alarm goes off, and the motion detection lights turn on; they are so strong they blind you.

You watch the little girl run to the forest as fast as she can. You try to go after her when you feel a firm grip pulling you from the hair and throwing you back into the kitchen.

You hit the floor hard, sliding in.

You see a pair of black combat boots about to kick you in the stomach when your dad's voice screams very loud.

—Don't get her scratch! She's valuable! —the man immediately stops mid-kick with a yes, sir.

You watch the other guards drag violently the little girl back inside the other building.

You barely hear her indistinct screams in the distance. As you lose sight of her, you think she is begging for her mother, and then the door gets violently slammed close in front of you and locked down this time.

You don't understand what is happening but remember feeling freaked out that day.

You then recall how scared you used to feel every single day back in those times.

They leave you for two days inside that dark closet with no food and no water as punishment.

The following month, the governess tells you she has finished her job with you but informs you that your training is set to start.

You don't get what she means by "training."

Then, she leaves the study room and returns with a boy about two years older than you.

You quickly get happy to see someone close to your age and not another adult. You have been raised among them.

The boy looks rigid and lost in the eye as he approaches you.

When he is standing before you, he pulls you closer and kisses you on the mouth. You giggle at the sensation. It feels funny!

But you see nothing wrong with this, you like the contact since you have never been held like that.

These lessons last for several weeks. They get weirder and more touch-y each time.

When winter arrives, it starts to snow outside. You are cozy sleeping in bed, hugging your teddy plushie under your warm blanket.

The fireplace creeks and heats the room when you hear heavy footsteps outside your bedroom door before it opens.

A big, bulky guy picks you up from the bed, still wrapped in the blanket, waking you up. He carries you down the hallway, heading with you down the stairs.

There, you see your dad, for the last time, on your way to the SUV with tinted black windows parked right outside the front door.

It turns out that man wasn't your father, nor was this your actual home.

You remember feeling increasingly nervous as the car gets further away from the property. All you think about is Bon-bon and the baby.

You cry.

You are sent to the Serbian ring, where your price is high for obvious reasons. You overhear the man who takes you there sound delighted at how high your bid went.

You don't understand a thing.

Two days later, they fly you to a high-end hotel bungalow in Bali, where an older man expects you.

They make him read some papers with terms and things he is suggested not to do to you since this type of man doesn't like the phrase "not allowed to," and he agrees.

The chaperone then closes the room door behind you, leaving you alone with him.

You don't know what to do next, so you watch him remove his tie and shoes as he points you to the bed.

As an obedient and collected girl, you get in there.

This man paid in advance for an entire year of your services and exclusivity, which is an enormous amount of money.

They make you meet with him always in different countries and locations until he gets bored of your body and moves to the next younger new girl.

After that, they return you to the market, and you visit the ring again, this time in Turkey.

You were supposed to live in several security houses when you weren't traveling around the globe to meet your owners, which never happened to you.

They rotate them constantly, and cameras and microphones are everywhere, so the other girls and boys cannot interact.

It doesn't matter much anyway.

With time, you learn that the more money you make them, the better things go for you.

Soon, you discover you are one of the privileged ones since Lenkov, the silver-haired man from childhood, is infatuated with you and asks for you whenever he wants you.

He is a scum.

—If you weren't so good for my business, I do have you living here with me full time like one of my dolls —the fit older man tells you while inhaling coke from the tits of a busty teenager.

While another underage girl like you sits in his lap wearing a tiny bikini, five of them are in there fighting for his attention and petting him all around at his open-floor mansion by the sea in Punta Cana, where he currently lives. You are the youngest one in there.

Lenkov has many places and doesn't stay in one longer, and the girls he likes for his sick enjoyment only get to follow him all around.

It's a better type of prison to be at; you get to learn, and it's way better than getting bid off in the rings.

At least with him, you know what to expect.

Lenkov hosts one of his infamous parties as a goodbye to Punta Cana, which is full of powerful and corrupt guests.

Drugs, alcohol, and a bunch of underage girls and boys are there at their disposition and for everyone's enjoyment, all if they pay, of course!

Bricks of money and bags full of rolls are on several surfaces.

After your previous owner passed away in a very sketchy way, you are pretty sure he got himself poisoned.

Lenkov ordered that they broght you so he can enjoy your body during the weekend and for your attendance at the party since a couple of Arab princes and some Serbian moguls will be there, and he wants you to work your way with them.

A very stoic, tall, and older man in an expensive suit sits, legs crossed, in the expensive armchair next to Lenkov.

He looks you up from afar, his eyes traveling every inch of your skin.

You know how to read a room by this point in your life. So you get closer and slowly twirl for him.

—She —he turns to tell the silver-haired man, looking at you, and Lenkov nods, allowing it.

There he was, your new owner.

God, you hated that word. You weren't a thing to be own; you were a person, even if they didn't treat you like one.

When your chaperone opens the door to a massive suite in Dubai, you are surprised to be greeted by a tall, gorgeous, muscular man with piercing blue eyes, dark, wavy hair, and great skin.

He is big and athletic. You would find him extremely attractive if he wasn't this sick person.

After being with many 50-plus-year-olds, a 33-year-old feels young enough for you. Even if he is not, you are only 14 by this point.

Well, you have been told you are.

Since you don't own a passport or credentials, you don't know exactly who you are, how old you are, where you come from, or anything about yourself.

He agrees to the terms presented to him, and then, as usual, you are left alone with him.

Either they go all over you immediately, asking you to take your clothes off in an instant or foreplay a bit before demanding you to go straight to the bed.

But none of the listed happens this time.

He returns to his laptop, where he seems busy working. Of course, he didn't forget about you. He was totally ignoring you.

It's always tricky with these guys! They are often arrogant, violent, controlling, or power-obsessed and challenging to read or act around.

But, unfortunately for you, you have enough experience dealing with all those types.

So you take off your dress, revealing your tiniest lingerie, and against your will, as usual, approach him, showing off your body.

You get into his lap, placing yourself on his crotch.

You don't want problems, and you know what happens to girls who get a "bad review" to say it like that.

He stops reading what's on his screen, getting distracted by you, then turns to grab his jacket and offers it to you. —No need for any of that —he tells you.

And you put his coat on.

It looks so big on you, covering your whole body. You move to sit on the sofa near him.

Dead silence.

He couldn't care less about you.

—Sir, I'm all okay? Is there a way I can pleasure you? If I'm doing something wrong, please let me make it up to you —you freak out as you notice the time of your session is running out; you don't want trouble.

—I didn't hire you —he says, still typing and looking busy. That takes you off guard. He looks straight at you with those fierce blue eyes, frowning.

—Pardon?

—My sick father gave you to me as a "forgive me" present —he lets out with disdain. —I don't get how he is okay with this stuff. I'm not too fond of paid girls or STDS. I'm not into the young ones.

—I'm very clean, I get tested all the ti-

—So, how does this shit work? —he interrupts you, not caring about what you are saying. —I read on paper that a titanium package was paid. Even the name sounds absurd!

You look at him collected, avoiding saying a dumb thing, being extremely careful with each word.

—It means I'm exclusive to your enjoyment, and you have me ten sessions before acquiring the package again if I please you, that I promise I-

—I see —he again interrupts your rehearsed speech.

You hear soft knocks in code on the door. It means Fran, your chaperone, of course you know that isn't his real name, is waiting for you.

You get your dress back on, and he walks you to the door.

Before reaching it, he suddenly pushes you into a rough and intense kiss, messing your hair and fucking your lipstick, biting open your lip, and, in a powerful movement, tearing your dress a little bit, taking you by surprise.

Fran opens the door at your lack of response and quickly apologizes, witnessing some of the action. —I didn't mean to interrupt, sir.

—No worries, I'm done with her —he says deadpan, pushing you out with a big slap in the ass.

This goes on for the subsequent sessions.

He doesn't touch you more than what is required to pretend you two did the thing. He is clever at keeping appearances.

—So, as long as I have you under my power, I can take my time to have our "sessions," right?

—Yes, sir, but not that much.

—Good, that gains us little time.

He asks you one night while looking out of the panoramic windows, sipping his coñac.

Damn, he is muscular and hot.

—Feel free to use the suite amenities. You are not allowed out of the room, correct?

—Oh no, I'm not —you confirm quickly, not wanting to get in serious trouble. Guards parol you, so there's no way you could get out even if you tried.

He renews his package with you without touching or disrespecting you in any way.

Every time you meet him, you expect him to ask you to return the favor. Your life experiences have made you wary and distrustful.

But he doesn't.

—Yes?! —he looks your way. You have been staring at him for five minutes. He is not the most tender-speaking person.

—I'm sorry, I wasn't, I-

—It's alright, you can talk.

—No worries, you seem busy.

—Go straight to the point or remain shut up —he dislikes wasting time.

—Why are you doing this? —you venture to ask. —I'm not trying to sound ungrateful. I'm more than thankful to you, sir.

—Don't call me sir; it makes me feel dirty —he drops himself on the sofa beside you, giving himself time off from work, stretching. —I get what you are going through. I'm in a prison of my own, too.

You remain quiet a little bit, pensive to open your mouth, knowing you can trust no bitch, but this feels different. So you trust your gut. —What do you mean?

—My father got my family, me included... —he stands to pour himself another glass of coñac and offers you one. You aren't allowed to drink unless they offer you, so you accept it. —...dragged into his illicit business, sadly, we have no way out now.

—I think I met him once from afar. No disrespect, but he seems harsh.

—You can disrespect him all you want. I hate my father; he is a scumbag, he got my brother locked up and murdered in jail, and my mother is also dead, thanks to him. So now it's just us.

Silence.

—Are you in any danger? —you ask, honestly concerned.

—Worried about your situation?

—No si- shit! —you quickly correct yourself. —Sorry, what do I call you?

—Pascal, that's my real name, by the way. As you can see, I don't care much, and yes! I'm always in danger, not imminent, but still, it's a dangerous game I'm playing.

—You are kind to me, that's why I asked. I don't know my real name, so I have no name you can call me.

—I can think of a couple of ones —he makes an innuendo, and by your shocked expression, he quickly adds. —I'm joking! I'm kidding!

You laugh for the first time in God knows how long.

Knocks come on the door.

That goes on until Lenkov becomes possessive of you and warns him that this is the last time Pascal is allowed to acquire your package, and he won't steal you away from him.

—I'm not planning to do so, Lenkov, it's just that pussy is so good, and I don't know how to quit it —he lies.

Lenkov smiles at him with an "I get it" expression before asking him for an obscene amount of money.

Pascal agrees to it, but only if he is allowed to have you for more time, for an entire year.

—A million, and it's a deal.

—But if she stays with me in London...

—She will be not allowed out of the apartment, I will place snipers, and if you try to trick me, I will slight her throat in front of you and then yours. A million and a half, and it's done.

Pascal pays for it.

He welcomes you to your new home with a glass of champagne.

—To the birthday girl.

—What?!

—Today is your birthday. According to your birth certificate, here, it's your gift.

—Is this real?! —tears fill your eyes. He nods, and then Pascal looks taken aback when you give him the warmest hug he has ever received.

He doesn't know what to do until he relaxes and hugs you back.

—I could sleep with you right now! —you say, and you quickly add by the shocked expression he gives you. —I'm joking! I'm kidding. Ah! I'm one year older than I thought! But how did you get this?!

—I have something to confess to you, and it's the reason why I moved you here with me —he sounds serious and looks stern; he hesitates before continuing.

You start thinking about the worst possible outcome. Here comes the part that goes bad for you.

—A few months ago, I made contact with Interpol.

—Oh, please, I'm, look, I, I rather not —you mumble and start to panic, fearing for your life.

—I see. I may die after this —Pascal lets out.

—You what?! —you panic.

—It doesn't matter. Yeah, it's better you stay out of it.

—If it threatens your life, then I'm in! —you sound so assured that he looks shocked.

—Why would you...? —he starts asking.

You jump in. —Risk my life for yours? Anyday! You are the only good thing that has ever happened to me —Pascal looks at you with an expression you cannot read.

—This guy I got in contact with has been pursuing Lenkov for some time and plotting his downfall.

—This guy?! Wasn't the Interpol?!

—Well, yes, he used to work for them...

—Oh god, how are you sure he is not setting you up and wh- —you panic again.

He calms you down and quickly explains. —He is the most annoying guy ever, but it's legit. He started his own organization and has the best of the best working for him, and that's why he moved the Lenkov case with him and left Interpol to work it on his own; it's personal to him.

—Have you met with him?

—Just on the phone, many, many times.

—I don't like this.

—I promise you he is legit and has resources. He was the one who got me your birth certificate. All he is asking from us in return is to act as a witness in case all goes well and we get Lenkov on trial.

—And what's in this for you? I'm sorry for judging you, but my life has taught me some lessons. You aren't in this just because you want my freedom, right?

—To whistleblow my father and expose his business with Lenkov, and make them both rot in prison.

—You are going to get us murdered!

Pascal starts worrying about you bailing out, judging your fear and panic.

He is getting ready to start working you out when you suddenly calm down.

—But what do I have to lose? This is no life, and if I can help to protect you, other girls, and boys and gain my freedom along the way, I will.

Lenkov sends people to check on you two occasionally without previous notice, trying to catch in any weird move and have an excuse to move you back with him.

It comes to his attention that according to the people he sends there, they never seem to interrupt you in sexual activities, enraging him.

You are cozy on the couch watching TV when Pascal's deep voice grabs your attention.

—Listen, whenever someone from my "dad's business," aka my job, comes here, or we aren't alone, no matter if it's the help service, I need you to play along and pretend we are in a sexual relationship. We need to keep appearances and have the word spread.

—Why? —you start feeling concerned. —Did something happen?

—Don't stress about it —he dismisses it. —Just so you know.

—Y/N, you are right. You are not being paranoid —you have been feeling observed by people looking from the building across for some days now. —Probably Lenkov moved some people to one of the apartments in front. They are watching us now.

Pascal pretends to enjoy a drink while looking out of the floor-to-ceiling windows to the skyscraper in front of yours.

—Moving out is no option for us —you add, feeling nauseous. Months have passed since you started living peacefully with Pascal at this place you now call home.

—We need to engage more, then —he sounds grim.

—If we close the curtains but keep the lights on, maybe we could dry hump for them. Silhouettes may work.

—Have the men you have been with ever cared enough to close the curtains?

—No. I get it. It's going to look staged. They won't go away till they make sure.

He lets an exasperated sigh and smashes his glass on the floor.

You instinctively jump. —Listen, I have done it before, we could... —you go all red.

—No.

After several days of noticing him consumed by the situation's stress, you cross the distance between you and gift him your first kiss.

Obviously, it's not your first physical kiss, but the first one that feels real.

You kiss him all the way to the bedroom.

Where Pascal makes love to you in a missionary position, all flesh in full display and bodies moving in rhythm for them to witness.

After you cowgirl him, he takes you in doggy style till you cum from pleasure for the first time ever while moaning his name.

You completely forget that you were doing it for the men watching you at a distance, secretly shooting photos without you noticing before they have them printed and delivered to Lenkov.

There is a slight shift after that night.

The interactions between you two become more tender; there are more accidental touches and sweet looks, along with some cuddling, but nothing sexual ever happens again after the Lenkov people leave you alone.

Not even a kiss.

Three months later, as you grow impatient every day since you know your year agreement is near its end, Pascal informs you that this guy wants to implement the plan.

Next week, a massive raid on the Lenkov rabbit holes, properties, and security homes will occur. People are going to get arrested and youngsters rescued. You are on the list.

The difference with you is that you will immediately be moved to Belgium to the Little Heroes Global headquarters to testify and for them to prepare you for court.

It's a Wednesday morning, the first time you talk to this guy on the phone.

He sounds young, but his tone is too solemn. He informs you that Pascal was the critical piece he needed to deploy his long, elaborate plan; he and his team have spent years trying to get Lenkov.

Now that you have all the knowledge and information he needs to take him down, it is all good to go.

It's the first of many calls you two exchange, and you eventually become incredibly familiar with his voice.

The day that "Operation Lina" arrives, you are so nervous.

Everything is going according to the plan.

But then, as a lot of commotion happens outside your apartment door, Pascal bolts to his feet and places you behind his body, protecting you.

A SWAT team bursts in, knocking the door down. Pascal looks at you, confused at the violence, but you see him smile for the first time in all the time you have met him.

—That's the sound of your freedom —he addresses you, briefly resting his temple on yours. You want so desperately to kiss his lips.

Then the SWAT team moves quick on their feet, guns up to approach you, or that you think so.

Unexpectedly, they pinned Pascal in a violent move against the floor. He hits his head hard in the process.

—What are you doing!? —you start screaming and kicking as they push you out of the way. You go insane as they keep dragging him away from you. —LEAVE HIM YOU FUCKERS! You are hurting him! This wasn't part of the plan!

They yank him down the apartment entrance hallway, and you fight your way to follow along, demanding to know where they are taking him, screaming and kicking.

—PASCAL! —You are desperately calling for him at the top of your lungs.

When you feel a hand softly rub you on your shoulder, you turn around, expecting the worst, to see Lenkov standing there, so you violently remove the hand from you and, with all your force, push the guy against the hallway wall.

—Easy! Easy! —that familiar voice tells you. —He is going to be okay, I will make sure —a kid slightly older than you is standing before you, his beautiful blue eyes are set on you.

—Are you!? —you let out in barely a whisper. You can't believe your eyes; he can't be that young!

—Yes —he starts fixing himself. —You are strong. Mathew De Vos —he offers you his hand.

—Why the fuck are you betraying him like that?! —you start immediately fighting with him, which, funny enough, becomes a habit for you two.

—I'm not! Listen, in one of the raids inside of one of Lenkov's drawers at his office desk, there were photos of you and Pascal, you know, explicitly engaging in some illegal acts.

—But that's not! He didn't ra-! I consent to it, AND it was just because Lenvok people were watching us ove-

—I believe you. I'm not happy to lose one of my biggest witnesses, but it's still a crime. Due to cooperation, we can offer him a good deal, so Pascal will be alright, I promise you.

—How do I know I can trust you?!

—I'm here, as I promised I will. Let's go. The quicker we get this done, the faster you will win back your freedom!

Days later, Mat informs you he moved his influences to get a particular trial for Pascal and that he ended up with just domestic arrest in Budapest, ankle monitor and all.

But that you won't be able to see him, probably ever again. You are only allowed to talk to him on the phone.

Lenkov corrupts his way out of the situation. To both your fury, you have never seen a man so furious as Mathew that day; you almost felt like running away from him as soon as possible, but this unexpected outcome forces you into a witness protection program.

Mathew offers you a place to stay until things get sorted out, a stay that will last for years to come.

—The obvious aside, duh, why did Mathew want to take Lenkov down? —Seb asks, his voice husky.

It's cold and late at night, around 5 a.m., and by this point of the story, you are already wrapped around Seb's arms, sharing the soft blanket on the couch as he plays nervously with your golden bracelet.

Seb has remained empathic and supportive, listening to your life story.

—Mat got scarred by that same man. Victor, Mat's father, was just solidifying "Heroes Global" after building it to protect minors, legally advise victims and their families, and help intelligence agencies dismantle traffic rings when he was the first person to discover the real business behind Lenkov's legal facades—you explain. Seb's eyebrows go to the roof, and his eyes look sad.

—As Mat was dealing with becoming an orphan, his team found out the helicopter crash that killed his parents, well, his dad mostly, wasn't an accident. Mathew's mom has been in a coma for years with no hope of recovering, but she is still with us, thank God.

—Are you a believer?

—Yes. God sent Mat to me. He means the world to me, Seb. He really does, even with all that implies. It's the only family I have. Even in our worst moments, I have never not loved him. He gave me a chance and a better life than I had ever imagined.

—It's good to know —Mat's voice takes you both by surprise, making you un-cuddle and turn to him. He walks inside the room before standing before you, hands inside his soft pajama bottoms, shirtless.

—Where did those abs come from, ancient Greece? —Seb can't help but peek as he jokes. He looks good.

As soon as I found out Lenkov did it and what he really was, I took the basis of Heroes Global and founded Little Heroes Global, working with Interpol. Did you know, Sebastian Vettel, that this girl right here is the foundation's vice president? he asks in the voice of a quiz host while pointing at you.

—I begged Mat to let me stay and work with them as soon as I was freed, I wanted to help others, but I was an illegal here in Belgium, with no papers and in need of a citizen permit and a passport.

—Also under age —Matt adds. So, I wasn't able to marry her to fix all of that thing at once, but as soon as we could, we did, I stayed true to my word of taking care of her.

—It wasn't a romantic or traditional wedding —you explain.

—Just transactional, sign here, sign this, sign there —Mat adds.

—Do you ever?

—Yes —you both answer at the same time.

Dead silence.

—But you two need to go to bed, to sleep, I mean. On another occasion, Y/N may tell you all about us; I prefer my version, though. Feel free to stay over Vettel. Just respect my roof —he winks before leaving, implying to be discreet with sex if there is to be.

Sebastian goes all red. To be continued... < Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

46 notes · View notes