#'but please know it's actually a lot more complicated than this!' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sunnami · 11 months ago

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❝i am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.❞

summary: how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.

pairing/s: poly!marauders + lily x reader.

tags: reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair, edited: very minor detail.

note: there is little plot, it’s just the marauders and their adoration for you. thank you all so much for your kind responses to my first marauders fic :(( ilysm! i hope you enjoy this one as well! because there are parts when i was writing that i ended up kicking my feet in the air and smiling to myself.

“MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER. I come from twenty-years in the future, you’re my mum — one of my ‘em, actually. It’s complicated. And you’re married to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.”

You blink.

“Get the fuck out of my room!”

Harry James Potter has dodged many things in his life. Killing curses, jinxes, girls, Draco Malfoy, and Dudley’s sloppy punches, but he’s never had to dodge his sixteen-year-old mother’s fuzzy slipper before. (Godric, that sounds weird, even in his head.) He doesn’t know precisely how he arrived here. In the Slytherin common room, to be exact, in your dorm. Harry remembers duelling with Death Eaters, Hermione calling his name, and a flash of light hitting him square in the chest, then he remembers waking up in the cold tiles of the snake dungeon. He nearly throws himself off the window when he meets your eyes, bleary from interrupted sleep — it’s not often he gets to meet [read: one of] his dead parents, after all, three had been brutally murdered by Voldemort, and one killed by his own loony cousin. He misses Sirius, though. A lot. And right about now, he could do with some of Hermione’s nagging and brilliant plan-making.

At present — or past, Harry guesses — he watches you scramble out from your duvet, hand clumsily reaching for your wand as you snarl at him. He wonders if his mother knows that he’s encountered other creatures far more threatening than her. Oh shit, he realizes with all the forces of an angry Hermione Granger, isn’t this the last thing he’s supposed to do? But, well, Harry has given, and given, so much of himself all for the greater good — just this once, he’d like to see his parents alive and well. Even if they were currently trying to blast him into the walls.

“If you’d just let me explain, mum—!” Harry pleads, nearly dropping his glasses after dodging one of your stinging hexes. Godric, you’re crazy. “Please!”

“Stop calling me that!” You screech, eyes set ablaze. Harry finds that you’re quite dynamic with your attacks. A hairbrush, followed by a stinging jinx, then a thick History of Magic textbook — which rudely hits him in the face, but he doesn’t dare complain because you’re his mother, and he’s respectful like that — and after you’ve exhausted your breath, running him into a corner, and your nostrils flare with the stubbornness of a lion, you point the tip of your wand at him. “If this is another one of the Prewett’s shitty pranks, I want you to leave! You are in the girls’ dormitory beyond midnight, and so help me, if you aren’t walking out that door in the next five seconds, I will kill you and string you up by your bottoms for everyone in school to see! Maybe all your stupid rumours of me being a Death-Eater might come true after all!”

“You’re a Death-Eater?” Harry asks dumbly.

You growl furiously, and Harry figures that was not the right thing to say. “I wonder what McGonagall would say if I delivered your head to her on a silver platter.”

“Professor,” Harry corrects with a toothy grin. “Professor McGonagall.”

You slam his head against the wall.

Definitely the wrong thing to say.

Harry groans, little Dobby heads floating around his vision. Why was this so much harder than actually facing Voldemort? Quick, he needed to think of something, otherwise he’d end up eviscerated to ashes on your cold, stone floors. Harry is pretty sure you’d use his remains as decoration to send off a message to your enemies.

“You hate your father,” Harry slurs through the pain, remembering Remus’s stories of how you were the gentlest magical being he’s ever had the privilege to love — now that Harry thinks about it, Remus was being extremely biased, nothing about you is gentle at all. “He’s forcing you to marry someone old enough to be your grandfather. You love to read Muggle literature but had to stop when your father burnt your whole collection of books. Your favorite novel is Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s the one book you carry with you everywhere, you could never get tired of it.”

Your grip on his shoulders falters, but the fury in your eyes crackles. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s not meant to be funny, mum,” Harry croaks, voice cracking pathetically — strange how this is the most he’s ever uttered the word, mum; it’s a peculiar string of letters, foreign on his tongue. “You have tremors in your left leg from when your father cast the Cruciatus curse on you. One of your dearest friends is a Hogwarts house-elf named Pipley. You cheated on your Transfiguration essay once, and—”

“That’s enough!” You bark, eyes narrowed in dangerous slits. “I don’t know where you heard those from, you creepy, little stalker, but if you want to keep breathing, then I suggest you shut up.”

Harry scoffs — you don’t understand. Everything he’s learned about you is from Sirius and Remus. They talk about you with whispered devotion, your name like a prayer on their lips, their eyes glazed with wistfulness as though they could see you reaching out for them — but you were dead in Harry’s time. Yet, you might as well have been alive with their tales of you.

(“She’s a different kind of beautiful,” Sirius had said, a year after breaking out from Azkaban, sitting by the fire in Grimmauld Place, taking a swig of decade-old firewhiskey, “The kind of beautiful you don’t want to take your eyes off from because you’re afraid she’ll disappear from your eyes. But you won’t forget her, oh no, you’ll memorize the freckles and moles on her skin, the scars from her years, the light in her eyes, and the way she holds her head up high. You should have seen her, James, she. . . she was — is glorious.”)

“I told you,” says Harry firmly — although he loves his mother very much, she’s beginning to wear him out, “My name is Harry James Potter, I come from twenty-years in the future. You are one of my parents.” A lightbulb flashes in his head. He squirms in your hold, reaching for his robe pocket until he finds the thing he’s looking for. Harry dangles the ring in front of you, grinning in success when your eyes flash in recognition. “It’s—”

“A family heirloom,” You say breathlessly. The alexandrite winks under the light, a familiar gold band with the Latin inscription of your House words. “Where did you steal this from?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You left it for me in my Gringotts vault. It’s my heirloom now. You have to believe me, there’s no way you can deny this.”

You take a step backwards, nibbling on your lower lip, as you stagger to your bed — Harry nearly stumbling to catch you in case you fell; adjusting to the living proof of time travel was quite difficult, he, of all people, should know. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Magic, amirite?”

You throw a pillow at him, which he catches gracefully thanks to his Seeker reflexes, as you plop down in the comforts of your quilts. “Sleep. The other girls won’t be back until the end of the holiday. We can deal with whatever this is in the morning. It’s way too early for me to process the idea of a future Potter spawn following me around.”

Harry smiles. “Yes, mum.”

ONE THING THAT his fathers failed to tell him about you, and that Harry had to learn himself, was that you took ages to get ready. You sat on the chair in front of your vanity mirror, the birch wood legs whittled with snakes, and it was as though you had a Sticking Charm on the cushion. Harry didn’t know there could be so many creams, oils, and serums, and powders one put on their face. He blanches when you turn to offer him a cream for his under eyes. (“Suit yourself.” You shrug, turning to brush your cheek with dusts of pink. “Just saying, those dark circles aren’t doing you any favors.”)

“What am I like in the future?” You ask, a kind lilt to your voice, much like a warm hug, much like home.

Harry stiffens, shoving his hands in pockets of the robes that were twice his size — you had given him the garments of Lucius Malfoy to change in, which you apparently had stolen from his room. It’s come full circle, really, the Sorting Hat had once told him he would be great in Slytherin, and now here he was, looking fabulous in green — because he was about to hurl at the feel of the velvet on his skin, knowing slimy Lucius Malfoy had worn it. (“No son—” You pause with a tight purse in your lips, as if you still can’t accept the fact. Harry doesn’t blame you. “—no son of mine will be parading around in red of all colors, future or not.” And Harry finds that he really doesn’t care, so long as you call him your son.)

“Loved,” replies Harry gruffly, avoiding your eyes in the reflection of your mirror — they were piercing. One look and Harry wanted to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers the photographs in his album, the one he’s stared at so many times as a child. It’s a moving photograph of the five of you, fresh out of Hogwarts, each wearing a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Before Sirius and Remus, it was the only semblance of proof that Harry had — that you had once been alive. Remus is holding you by the waist in the picture, twirling you around as autumn leaves fell. You were — are — loved, and Harry thinks there’s no better description than that.

(“I bloody hated her cat,” says Remus with a roguish quirk to his lips, regalling Harry with more talks of his parents. “Sirius, too. We just never got along with the little creature. But your mother loved it, and we would have done anything to make her happy. She deserved it, you see. She deserved more than what I had to offer her, but still she chose me anyway. And I am a selfish man, Harry, I crave glimpses of her and the whispers of her voice. She has made me a mad man whose only reprieve is her touch.”)

You hum knowingly. “Stupid question, I guess. Since you aren’t allowed to reveal anything more about the future.” You sigh, gracefully threading your arms in the sleeves of your shirt, a green tie in the center of your collar. “Except, of course, when you gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night by telling me the last thing I want to become — no offense, I just don’t see how a relationship with those rowdy bunch would work. They get on my nerves far too much for me to ever feel anything other than disgust.”

Harry doesn’t need a mirror to see that his expression has contorted in confusion; brows knitted and upper lip crinkled. By their memories of you, you all were madly in love in Hogwarts. Damn. This just made his trip to the past a lot harder. No maze seems to be ever just a maze.

Luckily, you don’t notice him brewing a grand master plan to bring his parents together. Instead, you say, “But you don’t seem to be phased by any of this. If I had been thrown twenty years into the past, I would have puked my guts out twice at some point.”

“Thanks for the image,” says Harry with a scowl. Truthfully, it had either been a present with a noseless Dark Lord to face, trauma to unpack but really never have the chance to, or a past where all of his parents were alive, and a chance to talk with them for however long he has. He knows where he’ll be staying, thank you very much.

“Anytime,” You reply with an impish smile.

Your heels pad across the floor as you walk over to him, mouth clicking as you pat the top of his head, full of wild, untameable Potter hair. “You need a trim soon,” You mutter, frowning, as you brush the thick strands away from his eyes, then you gasp — and Harry knows exactly what’s coming next. “Oh, you’ve got Evans’s eyes. That’s freaky.”

“I know.” Harry grins.

“Here’s the plan,” You say as you lead him out of your room, making sure no one saw him walking out of your door and getting the wrong impression — because that would be so wrong on many levels, but also, explaining to someone else that the person beside you was a time-traveller was just complicated in general. The Slytherin dungeon is unfamiliarly familiar, eerily quiet, as the two of you made your way out. “Just say you’re Potter’s distant relative, twice or thrice removed, and you’ve always been here. If you lie to their faces enough, they’ll believe it eventually.”

“Will that work?” Harry doesn’t really mind — he needs a connection to James, his father, if he’s going to work out a connection between you and the others, because at the moment, it doesn’t seem like you’re too fond of them. There’s a tick on your jaw every time you mumble the word, Potter. Nevertheless, Harry decides he’s going to spend the duration of the holiday break trying to set you up with them — on the list of most insane things he’s ever done, living out the Parent Trap was high up the tally.

You shrug. “They’ve fallen for less.”

(“She’s got this adorable habit when she lies,” Sirius tells Harry, whipping up a stack of pancakes for their breakfast — Remus browsing through the morning paper. It’s the closest he’s ever been to a normal family. “It’s not obvious to her, of course, but I know her more than I know my own name. So we play along with it.” For a moment, he stops drizzling the maple syrup on the well-cooked batter, gazing at Remus fondly. “D’you remember that, Moony? She led us straight to one of her pranks, and we ended up covered in slug slime. She was so obvious — with her adorable fucking giggles. I need help with Charms, she said, and we knew right away it was a set-up. But it didn’t matter. I’d happily let her lead me to my ruin.”)

The Great Hall is the same as Harry remembers. Now that most have returned home for the holidays, those who stay back mingle with students from other Houses, sharing meals under the bewitched ceiling, their low murmurs and hushed Christmas greetings bouncing off the walls. Harry scours the four tables to find a hint of blazing red hair, or the scent of impending trouble. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to search very far. As fate would have it, James Potter finds you — and where he is, Sirius Black is sure to follow.

You’re barely seated when James comes bounding over to your table — more precisely, he struts, and Harry is horrified to ever be proven wrong by Snape, of all people. He ignores the roll of your eyes as he drags a leg over the bench, sitting to face you as Sirius occupies the space to your left before Harry can even sit down. He can’t even fathom how weird it is to see his parents as rambunctious teenagers. Lovesick, rambunctious teenagers.

“Morning, dove.” James preens under your glare, stealing a grape from your bowl with a boyish smirk. His hair looks as though he’s ran his hand through it many times. “You look ravishing today.”

“As always,” Sirius pipes in. “But that eyeshadow really isn’t complementing your skin tone, my darling.”

You smile at him, right before your lips twist into a cutthroat sneer. “Piss off, Black.”

James stifles a laugh as he shovels a mass of potatoes on your plate, then pumpkin pasties, and slides a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea in front of you.

“What the hell are you doing, Potter?” You reach over to smack his arm when he sprinkles apple slices and bacon on your breakfast.

“What does it look like?” James smiles lopsidedly. “You need to eat more, honey.”

(In the future, Sirius will tell Harry, “It started off as a joke, a way to get on her nerves — but then, it just became this thing about taking care of her, making sure she got enough sleep before her tests, wondering if she had breakfast or dinner, staying with her in the library, walking her to the Slytherin common room, and sending her stupid notes just to make her laugh. You don’t get it, Harry. I’d give my every breath to ensure her life. We all would.” Harry doesn’t see Sirius any more during that evening, but he hears a bottle crashing against a wall, cracking into a million pieces, and the masked sound of Sirius sobbing, and Harry decides to leave him alone for the night.)

Then, you tear your eyes away from James — he huffs, pushing your plate to you, mildly annoyed that you’ve deprived him of your eyes; they were his favorite part of you, you see, so expressive and full of life; James thinks you put the stars to shame — and thankfully, you remember that Harry still exists. You lightly smack Sirius’s leg until he gives Harry some room to sit. “Potter, meet other Potter. It’s the holidays, shouldn’t it be the perfect time to let go of House prejudices and spend time with family?”

James looks at Harry up and down. “You must be from dad’s side of the family with all that hair.”

Harry lets out a breath of relief. That was easy — way too easy. When he takes the vacant space in between you and Sirius, you dump all the available food on his plate, just as James had done for you.

“Eat,” You say with a tone of finality. “You look like the wind could snap you in half.”

“Yes, m—” Harry stops himself before he could finish his sentence, avoiding Sirius’s curious gaze.

“Wow.” Sirius pokes Harry in the shoulder and in the cheek. “You really look like a mini-James, you’ve even got his terrible eyesight.”

“Oi!”

Your fork clatters against the silverware as you turn to Sirius with a shrill. “Not that I do enjoy your company — because, trust me, I do not want you here at all and would very much prefer if you got out of my sight — but why are you here? The Gryffindor table is over there. Unless your housemates finally got sick of you, Potter, which I can definitely see happening.”

James chuckles, tossing another grape in his mouth without taking his eyes off you. “It’s as you said, isn’t it? It’s the time for putting aside House prejudices. And I think it’s a lovely day to enjoy a meal with my favorite snake.”

“Drop dead,” You retort, digging into your chicken with a little more force than necessary.

“Oh, dove.” James shakes his head, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. “It’s cute that you think death will keep me from you.”

(Harry’s been told before, probably by Sirius, that this line had been wedged into his wedding vows for you. “A dramatic one, James was,” Sirius chuckles to himself one morning, Harry and Hermione listening intently, “He always said he’d rather die than ever hurt her. There was this time in seventh year, they had a fight — it was ugly — and she had ignored him for a week. James cried in Remus’s arms begging him to cut his heart out, saying that he didn’t deserve to keep on breathing, not after making you cry.”)

“That is so creepy,” You say in disgust, scrunching your nose. Sirius chortles at your side. “I still wonder why Evans agreed to go out with you.”

“It’s all part of the charm, dove.” James winks. “It’s all part of the charm.”

Harry wants to barf, actually.

After breakfast, James then decides to introduce Harry to Lily, Remus, and Peter. (He’s gonna need the patience of a saint to not Avada Kedavra that rat on the spot.) Harry had spent the whole morning watching Sirius peel oranges and give them to you with a smitten look in his eyes — naturally, you gave whatever Sirius offered you to Harry, and each time Padfoot would visibly wilt. If he were in his Animagus form, Harry thinks he would be whining by now, tongue out and all. James and Sirius follow after you like lost puppies when you extricate yourself from the table.

“Where are you going?” James calls, hot on your heels as you leave the Great Hall.

“Away from you, Potter!”

And James actually sighs when you turn the corner and disappear from their peripheral vision. Seconds later, he turns to Harry with a blinding smile, “She’s definitely charmed.”

Harry chortles.

“Well, come on then!” James guffaws as he wraps an arm around Harry’s neck — this is so, so strange. They begin walking in the opposite direction of where you went. “I still can’t believe we’ve got another Potter here and in Slytherin. I think I would have remembered Minnie calling your name during the Sorting Ceremony. What year are you in?”

He’s supposed to start his sixth-year in a few weeks. “Fifth.” Technically.

“We should ask Lily,” says Sirius, hands in his pockets and ebony ringlets tickling his nape. “She’s got the best memory out of all of us.”

It’s odd, Harry thinks, meeting the person who’s got his eyes — or the other way around, as people have told him. It’s like someone carved out the emeralds of Lily Evans’s eyes and bestowed it upon Harry for safekeeping. She sits beside Remus Lupin, head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped together, as they enjoy the shade. Nex to them, oblivious to their intimate conversation, is Peter Pettigrew — with his rosy, cherub cheeks and innocent blue eyes; not at all the image of a pathological, cowardly liar. Their heads snap in attention as James boisterously cries for their name.

“Marauders — and Lily-pad — meet ickle Potter.” James lightheartedly whacks Harry on the back, to which Harry feels his lungs spill out from his mouth, he’s sure there’s an imprint of his father’s hand on his back now.

“There’s two Potters in Hogwarts?” Sea-green eyes look at him in scrutiny as Lily knits her brows. “How even is the castle still standing?”

James cackles like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard in his entire life, slapping his knee for dramatic effect. Oh, well, at least they’re buying Harry’s half-baked lie. At this point, it’s not even baked, it’s just wet, soggy, and poorly done. “Good one, Lily-pad!”

Sirius ruffles Remus’s shaggy blonde hair, canines bared in a wide grin. “This one here’s Moony, uptight prefect in the morning and absolute beast in the evening.”

Harry blanches. Surely he was talking about his furry problem, right? Right?

Remus doesn’t even flinch, just peels off Sirius’s hand from him and extends his hand out to Harry. “Please do not mind him. Remus Lupin, nice to meet you. Although, I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met. We would have definitely remembered if we had another Potter in our midst.”

“It’s true, we Potters are just hard to forget,” says James, smiling cheekily.

Harry pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Mum didn’t take the Potter name. I’m part Dursley. Muggle.”

Lily hums, toying at the ends of her bright hair. “Dursley, huh? What a familiar name.”

“It’s a common one,” Harry assures her — not at all the names of the people who would take him in after they died. And make his life miserable.

“I suppose you’re right,” says Lily, unconvinced.

“And this is Peter.” James introduces the boy eagerly, pride in his voice — as though this isn’t the person who literally allies himself with Voldemort. As if Peter won’t betray his friends all because of fear.

“N–Nice to meet you,” Peter stammers with a nervous fidget, “Any family of James is a friend of ours.”

Harry’s eye twitches.

IT IS ALMOST COMICAL — the way their eyes land on your figure, bursting through the courtyard from the corridors, winter cloak swishing with every step, tendrils of hair swaying in the crisp wind, and head held up high, thick books under your arms. You pause in front of the Marauders, face blank, then you turn to Peter, greeting him with a: “Hello, only Gryffindor I can tolerate.”

Peter’s cheeks burn a saccharine hue of pink. Oh, no, no, no — absolutely not — Harry will not stand for a little crush Peter Pettigrew has on his mother. He needs James to act now. “Hi,” Peter replies shyly.

Lily quirks her lips. “Hello, princess, see your score for the Astronomy test yet?”

You scowl. “Zip it, Evans.”

The sound of Lily’s laughter fills the atmosphere — it’s the sort of melody that makes flowers bloom in deserts. “Had a bit of difficulty with the star charts?”

Sirius pinches your cheek — Harry thinks you’re going to murder him on the spot. “Difficulty? I think this one just slept through the whole thing.”

James snickers. “Must have been one hell of a nap, princess. You were drooling on my jumper.”

“I most certainly do not drool!” You gasp, appalled, eyes wide as you step away from Sirius.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “What? Is drooling too barbaric for the pretty, little pure-blooded princess now? Newsflash, pet, you’re just as human as we are.”

“Oh, you horrible, loathsome, infuriating—” You whip around to beat his chest with the course book in your grasp — it’s the kind of book Hermione would consider for light reading.

“Irresistibly attractive—?” Sirius supplies for you, grin widening with as he captures your wrist with his hands.

“In your dreams!” You shrill.

You exhale slowly, eyes closing, chest rising when you take a sharp inhale. You open your eyes and stare straight at Harry — for a moment he fears that you’ll bite his head off. “Harry, dear, will you accompany me to the library? I think I’ve found something important regarding your situation.”

Harry nods. “Is it time already?”

“Yes,” You say firmly. “And time is of the essence. Come on.”

“Wait!” Lily calls out to you as you turn to head back to the castle, Harry in tow — he tries to avoid the way James is glaring at your linked arms. “Hogsmeade next week?”

Your jaw falls to the ground — this must have been unrehearsed, if the others’ reactions were anything to go by; Remus had dropped his book in shock, Sirius looked like he couldn’t decide between applauding Lily’s bravery or shaking her, and James was somehow frozen in time. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused, princess,” says Lily, dimples poking out of her cheek as she takes another step towards you. “You, me, Hogsmeade. A date. I’m sure you’ve gone on one of those before.”

Harry elbows your stomach as you stare at Lily in shock. It takes a few moments to break you out of your stupor. “A–And what makes you think I’ll just go with you?”

Lily shrugs. “I’m fit. Aren’t I, Remus?”

“The fittest,” says Remus without missing a beat.

You laugh incredulously. “Do you just expect me to go along with this? You’re mad, Evans.”

Harry glares at you. You need to go along with this.

“Are you scared, princess?” Lily’s face is inches away from yours, noses almost touching — Harry doesn’t know if he should keep watching this painful way of flirting — as she grins at you, happiness barely contained within her eyes.

To your credit, you don’t back down. (Harry has to say this for the masses: he saw your gaze flitter down to Lily’s lips for a split second.) “Stop calling me that, Evans.”

“One date, then.”

You growl in exasperation, eyes flickering to the boys behind her back — pretending not to hear their conversation. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with them as well?”

Lily beams and Harry swears sunflowers could grow in her direction. “We’re a package deal.”

“Unfortunately,” You utter — but Harry notices it, the lack of venom in your voice. You straighten your posture, nose lifted haughtily, “I choose where we’re going.”

“Done.” The sun peeks out from the cloud just as Lily smiles at you.

“And I want to—”

“Done,” Remus interjects raspily, peering up at you from underneath his lashes. “Anything you want, it’s yours.”

You fight a growing smile, but continue, “If we’re going out in public, you’re going to have to wear—”

“Done,” says James giddily, he looks as though he could kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world.

“You can’t just agree to anything I say!” You flap your arms in frustration.

“Yes, dear,” Sirius teases.

“Do you know how much you piss me off, Black?” You squawk. “Because you are this close to—”

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Sirius confesses, every pretense shed raw from his skin, sincerity pouring from his words.

“I—” You falter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve gone mad.”

“It’s your fault, dove,” says James, eyes twinkling like crescent moons as he smiles. “You best take accountability for this.”

“You’re incorrigible — all of you,” You say as you avoid their gazes.

(But they were yours. Past, present, and future. They loved you so much that their soul was no longer their own — it was yours; yours to keep, yours to break, and yours to love. It would be unjust to ask them why they loved you. Do we ask why the sun rises each day without rest? Do we ask a daisy to stop blooming, or a tree to stop growing after it has endured storms and floods? After all, we do not ask why humans follow the light in a tunnel shrouded in darkness.)

“Come on, Harry, let’s go.” You reach for his hand, he notices immediately that the tips of your ears are pink, and your palms are warm with sweat. He barely sees Peter wave goodbye before you tug him in the direction of the castle entrance.

“Wait up!” Remus catches up to you two in quick strides, offering to carry your books for you — not that you agree, stubborn Slytherin that you are. “I’ll walk you to the library.”

“There’s no need for that, Lupin, thank you.” You dodge his eyes, lips tightly pressed together, nails slightly digging into Harry’s arm.

“Remus,” He says with a twinkle. “Call me Remus.”

“Alright.” You pause. “Remus.”

(In that moment, Remus wonders if you remember decking Lucius Malfoy in the face to defend him in your fourth year. He didn’t think he deserved to even breathe in the same air as you — the pure-blooded princess, dressed in clothing worth more than his life, adorned in jewelry he could only dream to afford, raised to believe she was better than everyone else. Then, you beat up Evan Rosier the next month in the courtyard, eyes ablaze, extravagant silk marred with grass stains and mud, and knuckles split open. You spit blood on the ground, looking at Lily then back at Rosier. “Red,” You say, kicking him one last time in the stomach, unafraid of McGonagall’s wrath growing louder and louder. “Just like everyone else. Like those Muggleborns you fear. We’ve all got dirty blood, Rosier. Suck it up.”

“I’ll tell your father about this!” Rosier bellows through bloody teeth.

“Tell him!” You grab his neck and slam your forehead against his. “Tell him that I decide my own future now!”

Remus doesn’t even have to think about it.

He falls in love.)

FUNNILY ENOUGH, IT’S LILY who gives you her heart first, before anyone else does. It’s the last month of her first year at Hogwarts — it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet that she was a witch. Her, not Petunia, but her — Lily Evans, the witch. Apparently, some people can’t believe it either. A girl from Ravenclaw calls her this foul word, she’s heard it a few times now but it always hurts the same. James and Sirius get into a fight for her honor, now faced with detention later this evening. But she can’t help but wonder, what if they were right? What if she really didn’t belong in this world? It was too good to be true, anyway. Perhaps she’ll just run a flower boutique with Petunia.

“Oi.”

The sound of your voice startles her, and she nearly topples over in the Great Lake. Lily catches sight of your Slytherin colors and resigns herself to another round of name-calling. “What do you want?”

“They’re wrong, you know,” You tell her, ignoring Lily’s question. You look down on her with your nose raised arrogantly — she wishes she could be like you. Born to be magic. “You’ve got a terrifying brain locked up in your head there, Evans. And they know it, too. They’re scared.”

Lily scoffs. “I’m just a Mudblood to them. There’s nothing to be intimidated by.”

You sneer. “Don’t say that word. You’re more than that. More than them. They’ve got long ways to go to prove they have a place in this world. But you — you’ve defied the odds and you were destined to become magic. You don’t have to prove anything. You have the right to be in the wizarding world and no one can take that away from you.”

Then, you pivot on your heels, not bothering to hear her reply. “You’re my rival now, Evans. Do keep up. We’ve got an Astronomy test tomorrow. I look forward to seeing how you do then.”

Lily just gapes. She’s certain there’s butterflies in her stomach. Her heart thumps wildly against her ribcage. Lily raises her hands to feel her blushing cheeks. There’s a light unfamiliar sensation in her stomach — like the urge to kick her legs and scream into a pillow, or more precisely, chase after you and hold your hand.

She stiffens.

Oh.

part two

#hp angst #hp fluff #hp imagine #hp x reader #james potter x reader #lily evans x reader #marauders angst #marauders fluff #marauders imagine #marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders fluff #remus lupin x reader

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lennythereviewer · 1 year ago

Text

My favorite Kingdom Hearts fact is that one of the biggest plot-holes that Nomura has never been able to meaningfully retcon or write his way out, a plot-hole so big that it fundamentally breaks the very rules the series is written on...

Is the existence of Steamboat Willie

Let me explain for the uninitiated:

In Kingdom Hearts 2, there’s a small detour in the story involving Maleficent trying to invade Disney Castle, the home of King Mickey. She can’t step foot in the castle due to an artefact of pure light that wards off darkness locked in the basement.

Pete, who is working for Maleficent, opens a door into the past (Before Disney Castle, this land was known as Timeless River) and decides to remove the artifact from it’s place in time so it won’t be there to stop them from getting in.

Sora, Donald, and Goofy chase Pete into the past thanks to another magic door provided by Merlin, and through some shenanigans involving old cartoons and teaming up with Pete’s past-self, they lock the door the villains are using, and return the artefact to it’s proper place so it can exist in the present.

You with me so far? Pretty straightforward-ish time-travel plot right?

Here’s where it goes off the rails.

Time travel would go on to become a staple of Kingdom Hearts going forward and would come with a very strict set of rules over how it operates:

1. You can only travel to a point in time where a version of yourself exists

2. You basically give up your body to do so, and travel as a disembodied soul unless you have a vessel to inhabit

3. You can’t alter the past in a meaningful way, what’s going to happen will happen

4. You lose your memories of said trip once you return, but your actions could leave a lingering instinct on your other self that could influence their decisions

“Wait” you may be thinking “Why should anyone go through all those hoops? Wasn’t time travel super simple that first time?”

And you’d be totally right, because the existence of Timeless River completely renders all of these rules and restrictions meaningless.

There is no version of Sora that existed in Timeless River before he step foot there, everyone kept their bodies, the trio and Pete were able to mess with the timeline as freely as they pleased, and they all very much remember their trip.

Nomura has never been able to meaningfully explain this super simple, easy way of time travel and the more convoluted method co-existing other than a cheap-throwaway line from one of the villains saying that Merlin “broke the rules”

The hilarious part about this line is that it implies that PETE of all characters is actually more powerful than the actual villain of the series, because Pete opened a door into Timeless River through sheer willpower and nostalgia for “the good old days”

But the all-knowing chess-master of a villain who had an evil plan several decades in the making with countless moving parts and contingencies to account for had to use the roundabout, more complicated method of time travel where a lot could go wrong.

Pete though? Dude just casually broke all the rules of time travel because he felt like it. He's just built different.

TL;DR: Steamboat Willie breaks Kingdom Hearts lore in half, Pete is more powerful than Master Xehanort, and I fucking love this beautiful trainwreck of a series you guys it means so much to me

I love Kingdom hearts so much.

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trashytracktales · 26 days ago

Note

Hey! Please do a lando x ex!reader. They break up after a lot of arguments due to being away from each other so much and then they meet a few months later and hook up. Like angst in the beginning then lots of smut.

If it's meant to fall apart | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── I was actually planning to write something similar for so long. Thank you for the request and I hope you like it 🤍

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𐙚 summary ──── Surprisingly, months apart haven’t dulled the connection between them. After a night of passion and honesty on both sides, maybe there is a future where they can make all the right decisions, after all.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x ex!reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, lots of angst & back-and-forth, fluff & smut, teasing, praising, explicit language, unprotected sex, mention of alcohol and drinking, swearing, not the healthiest relationship I've ever written tbh (the toxicity is implicit tho), overstimulation, pussy-drunk Lando, Max F. & Ethan aka FEEFA cameo.

𐙚 word count ──── 10.6k (Thank you to everyone who voted on this poll I posted the other day, I didn’t expect to see so many 🥺).

𐙚 date ──── Nov. 27, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── Guys, look. I know it's A LOT 🥴 I kinda let myself run with this one because I haven't posted anything in like a week or so. I still have 2 requests I'm working on, so don't give up on me yet 🤞🏻

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

SHE'S NOT ENTIRELY sure how long they’ve been dancing, but she hasn't finished her drink yet. Time feels like an illusion, blurring the edges of her vision with every new rhythm of the night. For the first time in months, she feels a little lighter, her friends’ energy pulling her out of her own head — and apartment, where she locked herself in after the break-up.

The club is packed tonight, bodies pressed together in a sea of drunken, sweaty chaos. Neon lights bounce off every surface, painting the room in vivid purples, blues, and pinks. It's not usually her style — not anymore — but she figured it won't hurt to let lose for a couple of hours.

It’s only when she steps away from the dance floor, her feet hurting and her head buzzing, that she spots him.

Why tonight, of all nights?

Why here, of all places?

Why him, of all people?

He’s leaning casually against the bar, a glass in hand, chatting with a few familiar faces. Faces that she can't help but miss.

She stopped talking to Max — well, Max stopped talking to her after ending things with Lando, too upset that she toyed with his best friend's heart for ‘no apparent reason’. Their friendship dissolved under pressure, fragile as a cheap plastic cup in the grip of sulfuric acid. But Max wasn't the only one who took it personally. That's why she needed to cut ties with everyone from her past. She needed new friends — her own friends —, she needed a new place and new clothes, and to rebrand herself from scratch. Which she did.

She thought she had made it through, but the past has its twisted ways of coming back when you least expect it.

Now, the sight of him, so vivid and real, makes her chest tighten.

She stops in place, hoping he doesn’t notice her, but then his eyes flick in her direction and, for a brief moment, neither of them blinks, the noise around them fading into a dull murmur.

He straightens slightly, his relaxed posture gone as his brows knit together. There’s something unreadable in his body language — surprise? Excitement? Confusion? Pain? She doesn’t know, but it mirrors the knot twisting in her stomach.

Her friends call out to her, pulling her attention briefly, and when she looks back, he’s still staring. Except now, he’s moving, weaving his way through the crowd toward her.

Oh, hell no.

Her heart starts to race, a mix of adrenaline and something far more complicated than fear, as she rushes to walk away; she's fought for far too long, and now her instinct is to fly as soon as she senses danger.

Unfortunately, she's not quick enough.

“Hey,” says Lando when he gets closer, his voice low but audible over the music.

Hearing him gives her goosebumps, hating the way her body is betraying her. It’s been months since she’s heard his voice, but it still hits her the same way: sharp and unrelenting.

She turns around, forcing a smile, “Hi, Lando,” she manages, her voice steadier than she feels, thinking she should try acting if she makes it out alive from this encounter.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, his tone careful, yet extremely suggestive.

It makes her stomach twist again.

He used that line the very first night they met, his boyish grin lit by the dim, flickering lights of another club, in another city. Potentially another life, she's not sure. She remembers the way he had leaned in, so full of confidence and asked the same exact question with a mischievous glint in his eye.

It feels too deliberate now, too heavy with the weight of their past for her to ignore.

“All set,” she finally says, her voice quieter than she intended, as she raises her half-full glass in her hand. “Thanks.”

For a moment, it feels like they’re strangers meeting for the first time. Except they’re not, and their history is hanging heavily in the air between them.

Lando nods, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, “How about this, let me join you for that drink?”

She takes a look to where her friends are dancing, then she turns back to him, “I'm here with my friends.”

It's a pathetic excuse, she knows that. But she has no time to think of something else. Not when her brain is suddenly all scrambled and can't form a single coherent thought.

Lando frowns, disappointed, but not willing to give up that easy. “Come on, just a quick catch-up and then you can go back to your friends. Mine won't mind,” he shrugs, pointing at the bar, where the others are following their every move like a bunch of curious minions.

She catches Max lifting his glass in her direction, and Ethan, waving frantically.

Against her better judgment, she nods.

“Okay,” she murmurs, “Let's catch up,” she spits the words, sounding a bit too sarcastic. Still, it makes Lando smile.

His shoulders relax slightly, relief softening the tension in his body. He gestures toward a quieter corner of the club, away from the pounding bass and the sea of bodies. His first instinct was to take her hand in his, but since that's over the line, Lando keeps looking back, making sure she follows him. And she does. Like a naive, lost puppy that hasn't learned a single thing in the past five months, apparently.

The crowd surges around them, chaotic and loud, and before she can react, someone stumbles into her, their elbow catching her arm. As a result, she's thrown off balance, her feet slipping on the slick floor. Gasping, she's bracing for the inevitable fall that… never comes.

Lando’s hand shoots out, catching her waist and pulling her upright. His grip is firm, grounding, and suddenly she’s pressed against him, her chest brushing his.

“Careful,” says Lando, his lips close enough to her ear for the voice to cut through the noise.

The spot where he's touching her is burning her skin. She looks up, speaking with a hesitant smile, “Thanks, I'm good.”

The club around them fades away, and all she can feel is the warmth of his hand on her waist and the familiar scent of his cologne — a smell she used to know so well. It is almost intoxicating, and it makes her mouth water. She realizes that's what she was missing the most.

Lando smiles faintly, his hand slipping away as if he’s reluctant to let go. “Always got you.”

She doesn’t know how to respond to that, sensing the double meaning behind his affirmation. So, she nods and lets him guide her the rest of the way.

They find a small, semi-private booth near the exit, far enough from the main dance floor that the music dulls to a manageable volume. He gestures for her to sit first, then slides in across from her.

She fiddles with the edge of her glass, feeling his eyes on her.

“So,” she starts, leaning back against the booth, “You're here.”

Here, as in back home.

“For a week or so, yeah. Got a bit of a break between Brazil and Vegas.”

She nods, emptying the rest of her drink in one go, “How’ve you been?”

Lando shrugs slowly, “Alright. Busy with work and everything,” he trails off, his gaze dropping to her lips for a brief moment. “It’s not the same,” he continues, his smile fading away. “What about you, what have you been up to?”

She needs superhuman powers to stop herself from scoffing in his pretty face. It’s such a simple question, yet it feels loaded, heavy with all the things they haven’t said to each other in almost half a year.

“It's been… peaceful. I moved to another neighborhood. Kept busy, distracted.”

Lando hums, his expression unreadable for some reason. “Yeah, I get that. You look great, by the way,” he states it as a fact, his voice soft but unwavering.

She hesitates, then looks up at him, really looks at him. His face is the same and yet… not really. The boyishness is still there, but there’s a weariness in his eyes that's somehow new. Plus some facial hair she always begged him to try out. It tugs at something inside her, something she’s not sure she’s ready to face. Because it hurts. Because it annoys her. Because, after everything, she's still not over it.

“Cheers,” she replies, hoping he won't catch the blush in her cheeks. “I kind of hoped you would look like shit when I saw you again,” she admits. “You know, I'm talking no front teeth and severely balding. But, oh well. You too.”

Lando's smile widens, making everything infinitely worse for her.

He wears a black shirt that clings to his frame in a way that highlights the muscles in his arms. His black cap is pulled low, worn backwards in that signature way he always did, giving him that effortlessly cool vibe. His eyes are still the same, though. Dark, piercing, the same ones that could make her heart beat faster even after everything that’s happened.

“I thought about you a lot over these months, you know,” Lando finds himself saying, chewing on his lower lip.

She shoots him a surprised look.

As if, she thinks. His Instagram feed would say otherwise.

“You did?” she ends up asking, curiosity getting the best of her.

A hint of vulnerability creeps into his voice, “Of course. I've missed you.”

She laughs dryly, “But it's been good for us, right? We just established we both look great, no constant fighting, no slamming doors, no smashed phones…” she says, looking at him intently.

He can't sustain that for long, so he looks down at his shoes, slightly ashamed, remembering how bad it used to get when the distance between them felt too much to handle. He remembers the frustration, and the helplessness he felt when he couldn’t reach her, because he couldn’t make things right. He did smash his phone once, in a fit of anger, because he couldn’t get ahold of her for hours — not his proudest moment, that's for sure.

Lando swallows hard, “Yeah, it has been nice to have some distance. I guess it makes the heart grow fonder, right?”

“Hmm,” she hums, letting her eyes travel across the room, scanning random faces and wondering how life would be if she were someone else, “I don't know about that.”

She knows, in fact. But the words pause in her throat, too tangled up in memories. When he finally looks up, she's holding his gaze for just a beat longer than she should, and she wonders if he can feel it too — that familiar pull, like gravity, drawing them back together once again.

“I know—” Lando begins, not sure from which angle to approach. “I know it was the right choice at the time, but I can't help but wonder what things could have been if I'd fought harder for you.”

“Come on, Lando,” she laughs, unamused, giving her head a shake, “We would've ended up in another vicious circle, no matter what. It's always like that with us, isn't it?”

A part of him knows she's right. Still, “We'll never know.”

“Well, maybe it's better that way,” she manages, her voice lacking conviction.

“Or maybe it’s not,” he contradicts her, his words carrying a weight that presses on both of them. “You never think about us?”

Another sharp, dry laugh — it's either this, or she'll start crying. “I am actively trying not to,” she admits, her tone tinged with exasperation. “What’s the point, Lan? Thinking about what could’ve been won’t change what happened. You were always gone, and I couldn't spend my life following you around like a headless chicken. We had a good time, but it was never going to last,” she says the last part mostly as a reminder for herself. “Not in those circumstances.”

His jaw tightens. “You think it was easy for me? That it didn’t tear me up knowing I couldn’t be there for you the way you wanted me to?”

“I didn't say that,” her eyes snap to his, “We simply weren't working. We were too good at breaking each other.”

Lando leans back in his chair, frustration visible on his face. He hates that she's right, but it doesn’t stop the ache in his chest.

His jaw clenches, “I just… I don’t want to believe that’s all we were. Breaking each other.”

Her expression softens a little at his words, “Not all. But enough to make us miserable.”

For a while, the air between them feels heavier, the noise fading into the background. He wants to say something, anything, to counter her point, but all he can do is look at her and ask himself if they were, indeed, playing a losing game back then.

“Did you meet someone?” his question flies out of nowhere.

Lando looks at her with anticipation, sensing the hesitation.

“I did,” she replies, nodding slowly.

“And?”

She meets his eyes for a split second before looking away again, fixing her gaze somewhere on the table. “And we're happily married with twins on the way. What do you think? I just. Couldn’t.”

Lando's stomach drops, trying his best to remain calm, his hands clenching into fists. “You couldn’t what? Be with them?”

She shakes her head, her movements slow and deliberate, as if choosing her words carefully. “It was too soon.”

Her answer only leaves him with more questions. “So, what does that mean?”

“I don’t know what it means,” she rushes to say, her tone tinged with irritation. It’s clear she’s as unsure as he is, but that only makes it harder for Lando to process her reaction.

He runs a hand over his face, his exasperation bubbling to the surface. “I’m just trying to understand,” he says, his voice quieter but no less intense. “Because I've also tried.”

She looks directly at him now, her eyes narrowing slightly. “And?” she challenges in the same manner, her tone carrying just a hint of defiance.

“They weren't you,” says Lando, the truth of his statement hanging between them like a heavy anchor.

They remain silent after that.

She wants to ask him why — why he still cares, and why it hurts so much to be in the same space again after all they’ve been through. Nothing comes out, though; she already has the answer to that. They didn't break up because they stopped loving each other. They had both been too caught up in their own worlds to find any kind of balance. That broke them up.

He wants her to speak. He needs to hear her speak. To react. But when she says nothing in return, there is a brief second when he feels like giving up for good; he can't do anything if she's already made a decision. He knows how stubborn she is.

Lando nods to himself while getting up and start walking toward the exit, his thoughts all over the place.

The night air greets them with a quiet, cooling embrace as they step out of the club. Of course she follows, and she hates herself for that. But she can't help it — it's instinct. Like a magnetic force he's always had over her.

On the other hand, it's how they always communicated, through gestures and actions rather than words.

The soft click of her heels against the pavement gives Lando hope. He slows down so she can catch up, and then they walk side by side, without talking. The background noise of the city keeps them company, and by the time she decides to break the silence, he stops abruptly.

His voice sounds so small now, like a child asking his parents why can't he eat his chocolate bar before dinner.

“I know it feels so silly looking back,” says Lando, as though afraid to shatter the superficial peace between them. “We did so many things wrong, but I think we also did a lot of things right.”

She hesitates, her eyes dropping to the ground where a patch of light from a distant street light catches the edge of her shoe. Her arms fold tightly across her chest, while trying to look anywhere but at him.

“Yeah, breaking up was one of the right things,” she says thoughtfully, though her voice has a trace of bitterness behind it. “Before that, we tried so hard to make it work that we ended up burning each other alive.”

It's crazy how simple words can cause physical pain so quickly.

“Yet we're still here,” he reminds her. “Knowing what we know now, maybe we wouldn’t burn so fast this time. And isn’t it worth it, even if it only lasts for a little while? We were so happy at the start.”

That’s what he clings to. The laughter, the stolen moments, the way they fit together so effortlessly — she can’t argue with that. Their beginning was a beautiful dream, but it’s the nightmare that followed that keeps her guarded now, even though all she wants is to crack his ribcage open and slip inside him so they will never be apart again.

Her voice shakes as she tries her best to make him see her side, the memories spilling out like water breaking through a dam. “I had to put myself back together, Lando. Piece by piece. And I was all alone.” She forces herself to meet his gaze, finally, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Turns out, our friends were actually your friends, and I had to go through the worst breakup of my life with no one by my side. I had to move, I had to build an entire life from pretty much nothing. And I had to do everything alone, because I didn’t just lose you. I lost everything the moment I made you the center of my universe.”

Her words knock the air out of his lungs, guilt clawing at his insides. “Look, I know I should have been there,” says Lando, his voice barely steady. “Fuck me. I wasn’t supposed to let you go in the first place, alright? I should’ve been a better boyfriend, and I should’ve fought harder to make it work, using what we had then. But you did fuck with my head, and I thought being away would help.”

The first tear spills down her cheek, and she wipes it away hastily, as if she could erase the vulnerability altogether.

“It did help,” she agrees. “I know I can live without it now.”

Lando freezes for a split second, then stepping dangerously closer to her. “So, you’ll be fine if we stay broken up?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper.

She nods, but it’s shaky. And when she takes a step back, trying to put distance between them, Lando decides he gave her enough space. Fuck that. He's not thinking anymore, not with his brain, at least. He closes the distance again, his hands finding her waist and pulling her close in one swift motion.

It’s impulsive, desperate even. But he doesn’t care. The moment he feels her presence in his personal space, the fire he’s tried to smother for months, roars back to life, more powerful than ever. And just like that, everything it's right again. The way her body fits against his, the familiarity of it all, makes his heart race in his chest.

“Stop being so fucking stubborn, baby,” he murmurs into her hair, his voice cracking under the weight of his own desperation. “Why can’t we at least try, hm? You told me it was too soon for someone else. Maybe it’s because it’s supposed to be me.”

Her breath catches at the sudden closeness, at the rawness of his voice. She's unsure of what to do with her hands, until they hover awkwardly by his shoulders.

“You're not fair,” she whispers, her voice slightly trembling. “You can’t just accidentally waltz back into my life and say things like that.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about being fair,” he says, his voice firm. “I just want us back. Simple as that.”

Her tears blur the edges of Lando's face when she tries to push him away, but his grip won't let her. Not this time.

“It's not that simple, and you know it,” she says. “We’ll only end up hurting each other again.”

“Then we hurt, so what?” he counters, his voice soft but sure. “At least we’ll know we tried until there wasn't anything worth fighting for. I'm not done with you, baby. Are you?”

Her hands finally move, trembling as they brush against his cheeks. They're not as soft as they use to be, his little facial hair scratching slightly at the pads of her fingers. The connection sends a jolt through them both as her touch lingers, trailing up to his hair. She pulls at his cap with both hands, placing it on her own head with a weak smile.

“It’s longer than you used to wear it,” she notices, her tears catching the street lights.

Lando’s heart clenches, managing to shoot a small smile in return, “I thought maybe I’d try growing it out. Do you like it?”

“I love it,” she admits as she tries to messily style his hair with her fingers. “It suits you.”

For a little while, they’re trapped in their own bubble. Her touch feels like home, and all Lando can think of is that he can't lose it again.

“I’m not asking you to decide now,” he finally says, his thumbs tracing soft circles on her waist. “I just need to know I’m not the only one still holding on.”

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, they're stumbling into her apartment. She knows it's reckless, and she's basically throwing away five months of progress, but it wasn't going to last, anyway.

Addictions are very hard to keep under control, especially when they have curly, dark hair and give you bed eyes.

“This way,” she says, her lips swollen from kissing all the way to her door.

Lando doesn’t have time to adjust, his head already spinning with hundreds of scenarios that fly tirelessly through his mind. However, the only thing that captivates him at the moment is her, and the way her fingers curl into the waistband of his jeans. She tugs him closer, her lips crashing onto his once again, their breaths blending in a frantic exchange of need and uncertainty.

He watches her fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, her movements clumsy but determined. His heart reaches his throat, swallowing hard, as his hands move from her waist to his belt, blindly unbuckling it before tossing it carelessly aside. The sound of leather hitting the floor barely registers over the erratic, overlapping rhythm of them kissing.

Then, he sees it. The spark in her eyes she used to have when she looked at him — it catches him off guard, giving him hope. He follows her as she moves slowly, her back toward the bed, her movements precise, like a cat's. She lies down, propping herself up on her elbows, while he takes cautious steps closer, his shirt hanging open to reveal his chest and toned abs.

But just as he leans forward, her high heel presses lightly against his chest, stopping him.

Lando freezes, his hands bracing on either side of her foot, tracing his palm up and down her leg, as his eyes dart up to meet hers.

“You can look,” she says, catching a glimpse of confusion in his eyes. “But for now, no touching.”

He frowns, clenching his jaw at her request. It would make sense for her to bring him to her place only to torture him, but she can't be that heartless. Right? The sight of her, stretched out on the bed with her foot holding him at bay, is almost too much to handle already.

“You're not fair,” he mutters under his breath, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I don't give a flying fuck about being fair,” she repeats his words from earlier, her foot staying firm against his chest.

The power is in her hands, and she's planning on using them properly tonight.

“No touching,” she repeats, determined.

Lando's hands fall at his sides.

Slowly, she slides her foot down, letting it drag across his chest, making a quick stop on his lower abdomen before settling on the bed. Her gaze locks onto his, a daring glint in her eyes as she spreads her legs, revealing the black lace panties. The dress she's wearing lifts up her thighs of its own accord, leaving Lando chocking on air for a brief moment. His lips part as she trails her fingers down her own body, teasing herself the way she’s done countless nights before.

Nights when he wasn’t there.

Nights when she was alone, chasing a high only his touch could give her.

“Wanna see how I got through five months without you?” she asks, her hands traveling way down, hooking her fingers to pull at the soft material.

His breath hitches, the sight of her undressing before him so painfully slowly making his chest ache with longing and guilt.

“I thought of you,” she continues, letting a small whimper out when the soft lace peels off with a little resistance from her already soaked pussy. “Your hands, your mouth… the way you sound when you're turned on,” she discards the panties at the foot of the bed, her breath catching in her throat as she glances at him through her lashes. “Such a delicious combination between your sleepy voice and that low octave you hit when you're drunk.”

Lando’s mouth goes dry, his hands twitching at his sides, itching to lean over and collect the material off the floor to stuff it into his pocket as a souvenir. He’s never felt so powerless and yet so utterly consumed by someone before.

“Will you let me?” she asks, her lips curving into a smile that’s equally wicked and vulnerable, “Show you?”

Her name leaves Lando’s lips in a protest while he takes an instinctive step forward, but she stops him with her foot once again. It’s a punishment, and he knows it. She’s showing him exactly what he missed, and exactly how she wanted him for so long.

Lando's breath is shallow, his chest rising and falling as he watches her. Helpless. His every nerve is tuned to her, eyes following how her fingers slide so easily between her folds, spreading the wetness as she teases her hole. Of course she’s taking her time with it, only to make sure he registers every tiny detail, just in case he forgot.

Her head tilts to the side with a quiet gasp when she pushes slowly inside. The sound of her wet entrance is enough to make his knees weak, still, his body turns to stone.

On the other hand, his heart is a mess of pride and frustration — pride that she still feels comfortable to be this vulnerable and open in front of him, frustration that he has to see her like this, untouchable. That's why he's not even blinking, too afraid he'll miss a thing.

She starts to gently rock her hips against the bed, fucking her fingers in and out, her body trembling as her whimpers fill the room. It's too much for Lando, but luckily, she didn't say anything about moving. His legs finally give out, and he falls to his knees, the sound of his breath ragged and uneven as he gets closer to her.

Yes, she's in charge — for now, at least — but he can't stop his words slipping out. Quiet, yet demanding.

“Slower,” he says, fixing his eyes on the way her fingers slide over her clit. “Don't rush it, please. I want to see all of you.”

Her gaze meets his, and for a moment, neither of them says anything else. She sees the vulnerability etched into his features, the way his body betrays him, shaking with restraint, completely at her mercy.

He looks like a man unmoored, defeated. So beautiful.

“Lando…” she breaths heavily, her back arching against her own hand, that flattered slightly at his words, a blush creeping up her neck and cheeks.

She hates how much he still affects her, obeying him without questioning his ways. Like no time has passed whatsoever.

When they make eye contact again, it's like they silently agree to go with it; whatever tonight will bring.

“That's is,” says Lando with satisfaction as she resumes her movements. “You gorgeous little thing. So beautiful when you listen, yeah?”

She nods, feeling him leaning forward just slightly, close enough that she can feel his warmth on her skin, without him touching her in any way. The air feels electric, her breath stuttering as she keeps fucking up her fingers under Lando's careful guidance. He watches every motion, his jaw tightening, ignoring the ache in his boxers the moment she finds her sweet spot, crying at how good it feels. She tries to muffle the moan, but Lando catches the hesitation, his eyes narrowing in her direction.

“No, let me hear you. Please, let me hear you,” he implores, exhaling sharply. “God, you're perfect. I could watch you forever.”

Lando can't help but notice how receptive she becomes at his words, her body tightening at the way he's praising her. As a result, she presses her fingers harder onto her clit, feeling the pressure building inside.

“Mhm, Lan…”

“I'm with you, baby. Keep going,” he encourages her, his gaze fixating on the slickness dripping between her legs. “Fucking hell. You're already so close, aren't you?”

It's like every word gets caught in her throat, and the only way she can reply to him is with a pathetic, desperate whimper.

In hindsight, she's never came from her fingers so quickly before, but the wave that’s hitting her from every direction right now is too intense to process right away.

It happens too fast, and the next thing she's aware of is Lando's voice, bringing her back.

“Please,” she hears him beg, managing to give him a slight nod of her head in return.

In that moment, the lights go out. Even so, Lando wants to be patient, as his index finger lightly brushes against her warmth. She exhales, giving up control, her gaze locked on him as if he is the only one that ever knew her. Meticulous, Lando traces his long, rough finger through her wetness, causing a shock to run through her whole body as it moves up and down her clit.

She thought she already crossed her limit, but then he leans down to press his mouth on her — deliberately, unapologetically, thirsty.

Lando lets out a deep, guttural groan that reverberates against her, causing her hips to twitch slightly. His tongue is wet and warm on her pulsating clit, leaving her breathless while he tastes her like it's the last time.

“My sweet, sweet baby,” he whispers, his voice intimate and personal, the words enveloping her in layers and layers of honey.

Feeling his warm breath on her center causes a surge of tension within her, making her walls tighten as his tongue explores within. He can't help but smile just as she leans into him, her body responding naturally, and he grips her thighs, closing the remaining gap between them. At that, she instantly buries her fingers in his curls, her hips mimicking his head movements.

��Oh, fuck,” she exhales abruptly.

The rest is pure bliss — his tongue licking in deep strokes, his muffled moans between her thighs, and the way he can’t seem to let go of her, gripping her tightly because he’s been deprived of her taste for so long.

Just for a brief second, Lando raises his head and, as his gaze remains fixed on her eyes, his mouth sucks gently at her clit. She's never seen him so desperate before, the sight of him owning her like that covering her entire body in chills.

Gradually, his kisses become way too powerful, which forces her to quickly grab his messy curls and pull him closer, unable to control herself anymore.

Without any warning, she screams his name as her climax hits her like a tidal wave for the second time in a row.

His growling makes her thighs quiver in his grasp, the vibrations intensifying her pleasure as her body convulses with each new sensation, while Lando’s tongue continues licking her during every heartbeat and shiver.

Next time she looks at him, his lips shine, his cheeks are red, and his gaze so intense that it causes her heart to skip a beat, creating a connection that seems more profound than any physical sensation she's just experienced.

He didn’t try to give her the best she’s ever had, but attempt to remind her how well he knows her body — to show her she still belongs to him.

“You’re so pretty,” says Lando, keeping his eyes on her, while he presses one finger back inside her cunt to test how thight she is after her second orgasm.

“Lando,” she spits his name at the unexpected touch, still too sensitive, “What… are you doing?” she gasps softly, a mixture between a sigh and a moan, when Lando's finger pulls out and glides across her wet, delicate clit once again.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Lando murmurs against her thigh, his voice low and reverent.

He grins in her direction, while his thumb circles her clit with precise intention, like a wheel gripping the perfect racing line. Sure of himself, Lando continues his movements, realizing how overstimulated she is, as he gets up to hover above her. Her hips buck instinctively into his hand, a jolt of reaction she can’t control.

Seeing Lando on top makes her react on instinct, wrapping one arm around his neck, while the other hand travels down his chest. The heat pooling in her stomach rises fast, an apex she didn’t expect to reach so soon. It’s intoxicating, her body spiraling as her mind blanks out the world beyond him.

“Lan—” she gasps, her back arching as if trying to escape, though every fiber of her betrays that she wants more.

“Come on, baby,” he says, increasing the pace. “You can give me one more. You're doing so well, I know you can,” his voice is a blend of dominance and desire, while his fingers press into her, knowing exactly where to go and how to bend, “Like that, see? So easy for me to read you. I could fuck my fingers into your pretty hole all night long and you'd still come for me every single time, wouldn't you, baby?”

Shaking, she clings to his neck, crying out his name in spasms. He loops his free arm around her, gently kissing her cheek — a gesture so tender and innocent that makes her heart grow ten times in size.

She grips his shoulder with one hand, her eyes closing in pleasure. “I can’t—” she chokes, the words tumbling out between ragged breaths.

In an attempt to get her power back, she tries to push at his wrist, but his arm steadies her, determined.

“Of course you can, love,” says Lando, his voice a gentle command, the firmness in his tone like a driver refusing to lift his foot off the pedal, curious to see how far he can take it.

Her hand clenches around his arm as his thumb presses against her clit with ruthless precision. She reacts on instinct, muscles coiling tight as she bucks against his hand, not sure what controls her body anymore, since her brain got disconnected long ago. The slik rhythm of Lando's fingers becomes too much, and she knows she's close when he starts curling them inside at the perfect angle.

“La— Fuck, baby, that feels so good,” her voice is a high-pitched cry now, laced with desperation. “I’m going—”

“I know, baby. So pretty. Look at you, making such a mess for me,” he urges, leaning in to kiss her neck.

Her body tightens as pleasure explodes within her, blinding and all-consumming — a full-throttle sensation, unrelenting in its intensity. She sobs his name as liquid warmth spills from her pussy, coating Lando’s fingers. He doesn’t stop there, though, his hand continuing its pace, coaxing every last wave of her climax as his arm holds her securely against him.

“God, I've missed you.”

When her breathing slows down, he falls down on top of her, burying his head in the crook of her neck. Her legs shake slightly, and her fingers curl weakly into his bare chest as he cradles her close.

Lando presses a tender kiss against her temple, his voice filling the quiet. “It wasn’t acciedntal,” he confesses.

She blinks rapidly, tilting her head to look at him, confused, “What?”

“Earlier,” Lando clarifies, “You said I was accidentally waltzing back into your life — it wasn’t accidental,” he repeats.

“What do you mean?”

Lando places a few more kisses on the heated skin of her neck, sucking in a couple of bruises, the gesture meant to buy himself more time for the storm raging in his head to stop.

“Lando,” she pulls him out of it.

“Been trying to figure out how to do this for a while. I just… couldn’t stay away from you anymore,” he admits, looking up at her, his eyes pleading. “I had Max playing detective while I was away.”

She pushes him off her to sit up on the bed, pulling at the edges of her dress. “Seriously, what?” her tone is not defensive — at least not yet — but there’s a sharpness to it that cuts into him.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” he rushes to explain, “Look, I didn’t stalk you or anything. Nor Max,” he continues, getting up to stand next to her. “I didn’t even know where you lived until you brought me here. I swear.”

She wraps her arms around her own body, needing something to ground herself, “What did you do, Lando?” the girl asks, her voice quieter now.

He swallows, “I just asked him to check in on you. To see if you were okay.”

“And how did he do that?”

“He saw you tagged in a pic on this girl's account, and then did some research on the people you were with, paid some dudes to find out if their records were clean—” he starts chuckling when her fist hits his shoulder, playfully, but still with intent.

“Don’t be a dick,” she warns, her smile giving away the fact that she’s still amused by his immature sense of humor.

“I just… didn’t want to simply appear out of nowhere if you were happy. If you’d moved on,” Lando continues, his tone more serious now. “But when he told me you seemed like you hadn’t, I couldn’t keep pretending like I was fine. I'm really not.”

His honesty was always a breath of fresh air, but now it's suffocating. Hearing him admitting he's not okay, implying that she's the reason why, is simply heartbreaking.

Her arms drop slowly to her sides, her fingers gripping the edge of the bed, “Why now, Lando? And why not text or call?”

He scoffs, “Can you look me in the eye and tell me honestly that you would have picked up if I called? Especially given how we left things?”

She cups Lando’s chin in the palm of her hand, forcing him to look at her, “I'll always pick up if it's you.”

The admission makes his chest tighten.

Lando shakes his head, “I promise I’ve tried,” he says, “God, I’ve fucking tried. I threw myself into everything, and nothing worked. Racing, training, sim sessions, going out with the guys — no matter what I did, I was constantly thinking of you. Every night out felt wrong because I wasn’t coming home to you. And I know home is such a vague word for me, because I’m mostly away, but you made every single place feel like home, and that's why it didn't matter where I was at the time. I just needed… need you in ways I can't nor want to explain.”

His confession makes her head spin. The breakup had been difficult for her, but she hadn’t considered how Lando had handled the past five months. All along, she had assumed he wouldn’t miss her — that his life, always on the road and consumed by his own pursuits, was too busy to notice the absence of one small, insignificant detail: her.

She's now realizing how wrong she had been to think that way.

“So…?” she finally asks. “Do you think a few orgasms later can mend what was broken five months ago?”

“What? No, of course not,” he says firmly, leaning forward, his elbows digging into his thighs. “I swear, all I wanted to do tonight was talking to you. I didn’t plan on getting to this point, but I can’t say I’m mad about it,” says Lando, taking her hand in his, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “You still want me,” she shoots Lando a rapid look, studying his face, “Just like I want you. I see it, I feel it. Baby, I know it.”

Her heart pounds in her chest, the sincerity in his voice cutting through her defenses like a hot knife through butter. She wants to be angry, to accuse him of being selfish, but the truth is, she isn’t. Maybe it’s foolish to believe him, but one thing Lando never did was lie to her. He did worse, yes, but he never lied.

“Lando...” she starts, but her voice trails off, wishing her head would stop spinning so she could think.

“I know I hurt you,” he continues, his voice softer now, “You hurt me. We hurt each other. But we're too good together not to find a way to make it work.”

She doesn’t respond immediately, her mind racing with memories of their past — the good, especially the bad, and everything else in between. Her fingers toy with the fabric of her dress, her eyes flickering between his face and the floor. The room is heavy with silence and, just for a moment, she lets herself believe that maybe, just maybe, they could find each other again.

Otherwise, if it's meant to fall apart, then let it happen with them gasping for air, tangled together, connected in every way imaginable.

THE MORNING SUN filters shyly through the curtains, soft and golden, spilling across the bed where Lando stirs awake. He’s all alone, the sheets around him rumpled from where she had slept. He blinks up at the ceiling, a little disoriented. Then, he hears the faint sound of running water and realizes she’s in the shower. It makes him feel like everything went back to normal, but he can't be sure of what's going to happen next. He can only speculate and hope, but nothing more than that.

The quiet is interrupted by the persistent buzz of his phone on the nightstand. He reaches for it, still groggy from sleep, scrolling through a handful of texts from last night — banter in the group chat, some Instagram notifications, a few missed calls; nothing too important to catch his eye. He places the phone back on the smooth surface carelessly, and his hand knocks over something solid in the process.

Frowning, he sits up to put it back in its place, and that’s when he sees it — a framed picture of them, taken during a rare quiet weekend in Monaco over a year ago, right at the beginning of their relationship. She looked so happy back then, caught mid-laugh as Lando was gazing at her with an expression so tender that it makes his chest ache now. The weight of the memory hits him harder than he expects, pulling him fully awake.

The sound of the bathroom door opening makes him turn, and he puts the frame back quickly. However, it's enough for her to catch his sudden movement, her eyes flicking to the photo and back to him.

Her cheeks flush a deep pink. “I meant to put that away,” she rushes to say, pulling the towel tighter around her body like it might shield her from the embarrassment.

“Carlos took this one,” his voice is soft, as his eyes shift back to the frame. He picks it up again, turning it in his hands. “You asked me why didn't I call, but… why didn't you call?”

She laughs dryly, crossing the space to take the frame from his hand and placing it face down on the nightstand. She sits down next to him, shrugging.

“And tell you what, Lando? That I couldn’t stop thinking about you even though you broke my heart?” she asks, shaking her head, the embarrassment turning into something closer to frustration. “It’s just a stupid picture, anyway. We barely knew each other when it was taken.”

“It’s not stupid,” he contradicts her vehemently. His hand reaches out tentatively, brushing against her soft forearm. “It's nice to know I wasn’t completely crazy for hoping you felt the same.”

Her lips part like she wants to say something, but no words come out. The towel slips slightly, and she clutches it tighter, her defenses crumbling under the weight of his hungry eyes.

“Lando…”

“Leave it there, yeah?” he says, pointing at the picture. “Facing your side of the bed, preferably.”

Seeing her suddenly deep in thought, Lando grabs her wrist and gently pulls her onto his lap, his thumb lightly brushing against her silky skin.

She looks at him, her emotions warring on her face. “If it makes me look less pathetic, it was face down most of the time.”

Lando laughs, his hands finding her waist, then her hips, steadying her on his lap, “I love you,” he says it casually, but it still freezing the blood in her veins.

Her fingers fly towards his mouth to cover his lips, “Don't,” she warns.

“You know I do. I was serious last night. You don't have to decide anything right now, but I'm not going anywhere. It sucks we needed to hurt for a while, we're both at fault, but I never stopped loving you,” he repeats.

“You're so unfair.”

“Don't care, say it back,” he teases, digging his fingers into her skin to tickle her sides.

She starts giggling, “Don't you dare.”

His grin widens, “Or what?” he asks playfully as her hands fly to his, trying to fend him off.

“Lando, I'm serious. Stop it,” her laughter blends with his while he leans in closer, his lips brushing her ear.

“I need to hear it, baby. Please. Just say it back.”

“It back,” she chuckles, feeling his fingers tickling her so mercilessly that tears form in her eyes. Their laughter bubbles over, loud and uninhibited, until she collapses against him. “Okay, fine. Fine,” her breathy voice stops him in place, catching his attention. “I love you, Lando.”

A simple confession; he asked for it. But none of them expected it to hang that heavily between them. It's not a lie — not in the slightest — and Lando knows it.

“Enough to give us a second chance?” he asks.

Her breath catches at the sudden shift in his tone, and before she can reply, his thumb traces her cheek gently.

“I'm so scared,” she admits, leaning into his touch.

Lando sighs, understanding too well where she's coming from, “I know, baby. But I'm even more afraid of losing us again. Losing this…”

His hand slides down her chest, tracing the curve of her breasts. With a gentle movement, he tugs at the corner of her towel, letting it drip smoothly down her body. Patiently, he runs his hands down her waist, moving back up to her chest as they leave goosebumps in their wake. Hungry, his hands rest on her breasts, squeezing them lightly until he feels her nipples in his palms, and she drops her head on his shoulder, whimpering softly.

Memories of last night make her body shudder, feeling the heat between her legs intensifying. Following his lead, her fingers start tugging at the waistband of his boxers, until they slip low on his hips.

Lando moves one hand around her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. He groans against her mouth, his breath hot and ragged, before breaking their connection long enough to kick the boxers aside.

Skin on skin, their bodies align like two puzzle pieces.

She hovers over him, his hands on either side of her, “I wanna take care of you,” he speaks softly, closing his eyes when her forehead rests against his. “Please, let me take care of you.”

There’s a vulnerability in his tone that twists something deep inside her. She's just learned how to be independent again. She can't throw all of it away. She can't let herself slip.

She can't.

“Okay,” she whispers, her voice steady despite the storm raging within her.

Her answer is all that Lando needs to hear. His lips crash back onto hers as he swaps their positions, lowering her onto the bed, his body pressing against hers, warm and solid. And so very real. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word feels like a promise, a vow that he won’t let her slip through his fingers again.

And then, Lando takes control — not the type of dominance he's used to when he steers his car. It's more like devotion; his hands map her body all over again, like a driver learning every twist and turn of a new circuit, his lips following the trail his fingers blaze.

She arches into his touch, responding to him in ways she thought she’d forgotten.

But the body remembers.

And the remembering is, oh, so good.

Last night was just the warm-up, she reckons — an act meant to remind both of them how well they fit together. Lando was gentle, kind, and patient. But now, she sees the shift in him.

His eyes are darker, filled with lust, his touch greedier. She can't help but smile when she realizes that the Lando she knows all too well — the one who’s needy, insatiable, and unrelenting in his desire for her — is still there, and so ready to show off.

Her skin tingles in anticipation as she watches him, knowing exactly what he wants. And for once, she wants it just as much. Maybe even more, considering how her body is acting independently from her brain.

She wants him to give her everything, to burn through her until she’s left gasping and wet and ruined, and she’s ready to meet his hunger with her own.

But before that, “We're not done talking,” she tells him, breathing heavily against his mouth.

“Yeah, we'll talk. Stay with me and we'll talk all you want, baby.”

She wants to protest, but her air gets knocked out of her lungs and her fingernails sink into his shoulders when Lando nudges the head of his cock up and down her slit to collect the wetness. With a gentle kiss on her jaw, she closes her eyes, tracing her fingers down his arms as he pushes inside.

They both exhale, relieved that they're back where they belong.

Talking can wait.

Lando's hands grip her waist just as he pulls out, only to push back in, all the way to the hilt in one slow, but hard thrust. The feeling is almost too much for her, which is ridiculous since he just started moving. But she feels so full, and the sounds he lets out only make her open up for him even more.

“Wait, wait,” she can barely recognize her own voice, stopping Lando when their hips touch together.

She can't explain it, but she needs it.

“What's wrong?”

She looks down between their bodies, confusing Lando even more. “I…,” she begins, but she's not sure how she's supposed to voice her need.

“It's okay, you can tell me,” he assures her, bringing his hand to cup her face in his palm, tracing his thumb over her cheek.

“I—need a second to feel you,” she explains, pushing his hand away only to trace her palms over her face.

Lando chuckles, “Baby, don't hide from me. You're driving me fucking mad when you're blushing.”

“I'm not blushing,” she contradicts him, raising her hips against his, her walls hugging him tighter with every move.

“No?” whispers Lando roughly as if he lost his voice. “God, you're perfect. So good, so fucking sweet and perfect around me, baby.”

Her legs tighten around his waist, keeping him inside, while one hand moves to his lower back to push him against her even more. There is no physical space left between them, but she still wants more. It only makes Lando's cock throb inside her pussy, giving her a few more seconds to adjust to his length before he pulls all the way out and slides back, searching for the perfect pace.

“Fuck, Lando,” she whines, burying her fingers into his hair, tugging at the roots.

“Yes, I know,” agrees Lando, his eyes flicking over her face. His insides tighten at the sight of her parting her lips in pleasure, her breathing hot and irregular. “You're so beautiful from this angle.”

“Shut up,” she cuts him off, which makes Lando chuckle again.

“Why would I?” he asks, leaning closer to her ear, while thrusting a couple more times before pausing. “You look like a fucking goddess taking my cock so well.”

She squeezes her eyes shut at the sound of his voice, low and raspy, rocking her hips to find that sweet friction against her walls again.

“Keep,” she whines, “Keep going, then. Let me have it.”

Lando presses his lips on hers at the same time he resumes his movements, his hands roaming all over her body.

“You can have my cock, baby,” he groans into her hair. “All yours.”

She nods, wrapping her fingers around his biceps, “Yeah?”

“Promise you,” says Lando.

After that, he picks up pace, both falling into an agonizing rhythm. All this time, she had thought that familiarity might dull the edge of being with Lando, that knowing his moves would make it predictable and boring, maybe even ordinary.

Somehow, it’s the exact opposite.

It’s because she knows him, and he knows her so well, that every touch feels ecstatic, every kiss charged with meaning. He doesn’t need to guess what she likes; he already knows how to unravel her, how to leave her trembling and breathless. And she knows exactly what will make his breath hitch, how to draw out that low, desperate groan that ignites her own fire.

In a way, every time feels like the first, but it's always much better, because they know how to make each other fall apart like no one else can.

“Please,” she gasps, breathing wetly in his shoulder. “Harder.”

One thing about Lando, he's always been good at listening. Without thinking twice, he tightens his grip on her hips, fucking his cock inside her harder and faster than before. In an instant, her ears are blessed with the way his moans sound.

“God, I've missed fucking my pretty girl like this,” says Lando, his hands moving on her thighs to spread her more so he can slide in faster. “It's never like this, baby, fuck.”

Being with Lando is chaos, the kind of beautiful, consuming chaos that leaves everything around them in shambles. They are loud and messy, and everything is sweaty and wet and sticky. He kisses her like he’s starving, touches her like he’s desperate to memorize every inch of her skin, and she matches his fervor, meeting him with the same wild energy that pulls them under. Together.

“Lando,” she spits his name out of her mouth in short spasms. “Lando, Lan… Lando.”

It's almost like a cry for help, but she doesn't need saving. Not when he's fucking her so good, slamming against her over and over again, until the outside world fades away and all she remembers is his name.

“Lando,” she whimpers again.

“Keep me in, love. Like that,” she can barely hear him over the sound of skin slapping on skin. “Fuck. You're taking me so well, I won't stop fucking you, baby. I won't—”

She sucks in a breath of air, her body buzzing with pleasure. Wrapping her arms around his torso, she can feel how hot and sweaty his chest is. She moves with him for a couple more thrusts before she lets go, the sound of Lando fucking in and out of her while she comes so obscene that it makes her eyes roll.

“I'll never get tired of seeing you coming like that,” says Lando, pinning her to the bed, his cock feeling so fucking good inside of her that it makes him see stars. “So fucking hot, baby.”

Her nails scratch the skin of his back as her pussy clenches around his length, forcing another hiss out of Lando's mouth.

“Don't stop,” she manages to say, even though she feels her throat raw.

“Ah, look at you, now. Being so good for me,” says Lando with a smirk, tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Letting me have my way with you when you're sore and spent. And so wet, baby, you're dripping all around my cock. Fucking hell.”

Lando's jaw clenches, a visible battle playing out in his face as his breath hitches. She feels him moving deeper, hitting the sweet spot inside her, sending ripples of pleasure through her body with every thrust.

“Yes—fuck. Don't stop,” she repeats.

His eyes widen as he tries to hold on for as long as he can, but it's hard when he flashes his eyes in her direction and catches her already looking. It doesn't take long for him to realize there's a replica to her first orgasm. He nods, without saying anything else, bringing his hand up to her neck. She places hers on top of his, not to push it away, but to let it rest there as a sign that it's fine to claim her if that's what Lando needs.

And that's enough for him to lose it.

“Baby,” he breaths out, fucking her slopply, any sense of order dissolving under the weight of their eye contact.

She arches into him, her fingers trembling as they rise to cup his face.

“Keep your eyes on me,” she demands, her voice a desperate need.

She pictured that face thousands of times in the past months, but nothing compares to this. Lando groans at the command, his hooded gaze staying on hers. The intensity of his expression nearly undoes her again — his pupils blown wide, lips parted as he lets out s string of cuss words.

“That's it, pretty boy,” she whispers, her thumb brushing over his cheek as he moves inside her, his pace faltering for just a moment before he snaps back into thay sloppy rhythm, chasing his release. “Want to see you when you let go.”

She barely finishes her sentence when his orgasm crashes over him like a tsunami; no one would be able to even tell where she begins and where he ends.

Lando looks so beautiful and wrecked, and she drinks in every second of his surrender.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

When his features soften, she sees how vulnerable he is, and it leaves her breathless.

Satisfied and content, her fingers still trace his face, wanting to remember the exact way he looks in this moment, when he is completely hers.

Unable to support his weight, Lando collapses on top of her, feeling his body as light as a feather, which is so far from the truth. But she doesn't mind; she loves the feeling, actually. She loves the heaviness, and the way he keeps his cock tucked deep inside her, wet and softening slowly, not allowing his cum to leak out of her.

Descending back down from their high, the only sounds in the room are their slowing breaths and the soft rustle of the sheets. It's hard not to notice the weight of reality when it begins to creep in around the edges.

She lies beneath him, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on his back, but her mind is miles away.

“When are you leaving?” she finally asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando tenses for a moment, then shifts to lie beside her, propping his head on his hand to look at her. The vulnerability in her eyes twists something deep inside him.

She swallows hard, suddenly flooded by all the reasons they had fought, all the late nights filled with misunderstandings and misaligned priorities. She remembers all the reasons why they broke up, and thinking how bad of an idea this has been. Because, how can she let go of him again, without feeling like she'll be losing both her head and heart in the process.

“On Tuesday,” says Lando softly. “But not how you think.”

Her brow furrows in confusion as she turns to face him. “What do you mean?”

Lando leans over, his hand caressing her cheek as he gathers his thoughts.

“I’ve been thinking about us for months. Since you left, actually,” he begins, his voice low and deliberate. “I had a lot of time, and I managed to figure out why it didn’t work before, why I couldn’t give you what you deserved. So… I’ve talked to the team.”

She almost stops breathing, her eyes widening in his direction while she waits for him to continue. Months ago, she would've die to have this conversation, and now that it happens, she doesn't know how to behave.

“I'm working on a schedule. To have more time for us,” Lando explains.

Her heart skips a beat. “You’d do that?”

“For us,” he repeats, his voice firm. “I can’t keep pretending I’m okay without you. I don't want to be okay without you, it's stupid. And I don’t want to keep coming back here, hoping for a second chance, only to mess it up again. I want to get it right this time.”

She stares at him, not knowing what to do with that information. This is not the Lando she knows. The recklessness and impulsivity got replaced by caution and planning the steps ahead. It's new, and exciting, and it makes her tear up.

“And what if it still doesn’t work?” she asks, her voice small.

He leans closer, his forehead touching hers. “It will.”

His tone is so definitive that she can't say anything else, letting the silence stretch between them as she searches Lando's face for any sign of hesitation.

There’s none.

“How... did you actually know where to find me last night?”

Lando smirks, studying her face with half-closed eyes, bringing his hand to her jaw. “That friend of yours posted on her story. Honestly, I didn’t know you were going to be there. But I hoped.”

She shakes her head, scoffing, “Stalker behavior.”

Lando shrugs nonchallantly, “I just happened to be nearby,” he chuckles.

“Lucky me,” she says, tracing the contour of his nose with her finger, stopping on his jaw.

“Lucky us,” he corrects, pulling her in for another kiss.

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

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deadghosy · 6 months ago

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☆BEING MATTHEO’S CHILDHOOD FRIEND TO LOVER ☆ male version||female version

COMPLETELY protective over you ever since childhood. He literally fought a kid back then because they didn’t like that you were a “girl” playing boy games with them. You were sensitive back then, so of course you cried to mattheo about it. And mattheo did something about it. He punched the kid and stole their teddy bear to give it to you.

He asks you about girl things so he can flirt and treat a girl better. You could be literally reading a romance book, and he wants to learn too. Please teach him or else he’s gonna whine about losing another girl.

“Sooooo what does a girl like for a guy like me to tap that ass…cause I got a girl on my roster..” mattheo says sliding by you in the library table you sat in. You were literally getting to the good part of where the two main characters were gonna kiss. “Why are you asking me these questions riddle…” you say with venom in your tone towards his last name. Mattheo frowned. “Actually my name from you is Matty, Matt, and matty bear. So please—”

“—Please kill yourself and never let your soul rest after.” You say getting up from the library table and walking away. Mattheo’s jaw drop as he followed you offended. He never interrupted your reading time ever.

When your period comes…he’s asking you “what the fuck that is” and “why is it hurting you” with a frown. He’s thinking he can solve it like any other with a wave of his wand…but it’s more complicated when you explained how your uterus is shredding itself and that’s all you can get out before mattheo started to gag and leave your dorm room like the overdramatic king he is.

He still loves you dearly so he got you tea and some materials you need for the rest of your week.

Sometimes when you two have a sleepover, which is just either of you two sneaking into the girls dorms or the boys. You two gossip like little girls ready to rip someone’s heart out.

Mattheo is 50/50 on you doing makeup on him. But if you really plead and want to do it. He’s gonna let you. He can’t say no to you sadly.

A guy had broken your heart once, so he broke his face in…and broke his dick. Don’t ask.

Couple of girls hated how close you were to Mattheo. He’s a handsome guy, so of course people may spread rumors around. And Mattheo doesn’t really like that, he’s going to the girl and showering her how equal rights have hands.

If you two ever argue, it leads to Mattheo apologizing first. He’s a sucker for you, he doesn’t know why. He just doesn’t want you to be mad at him.

It’s even worst when you talk to anyone else than him.

When you fully ignore him, no texting, no calling, not even talking to you in public and being by you makes him go insane. He’s smoking in the courtyard. Jaw tightened as he eyes you across. He can tell that you know he is staring. He can tell you know indeed when you shift a lot.

The way you feel his burning gaze on you, it made you feel warm. You always loved mattheo, but with him always “going after” girls…you just thought that maybe he wouldn’t love you back.

Jealousy is something mattheo has built into him. He doesn’t know why, so when a ravenclaw student tried to ask you out. He couldn’t stand it. He had to take you away. He couldn’t bare to lose you. He ushered you away from the student, taking you to an empty classroom. He couldn’t handle not being near you, he hated it the most. You are his other part.

He hates it.

“I don’t know who that guy was. But you’re mine. Okay? You’re mine, you always have been even if we both didn’t recognize it. Shit, I know I’m dumb to think to just push my feelings away from you. But I can’t help but love how you are so amazing…” he says slowly at the end. Kissing your head and closing his eyes. You smile slowly. Your heart swell with warmth, taking a deep breath in as you wrapped your arms around him too. You loved him just like how he loves you. He loves you as if you were the made the creation of his favorite food. He loved you like making new potions. He loved you like music to his ears.

He always has been a gentleman before you two dated. He made sure he opened doors for you. He made sure you were comfortable with things. He would even sacrifice his cloaks if you were cold.

He’s like a puppy in love as he just lights up seeing you.

He loves his girl very much. You are the prettiest thing he could ever ask and give for.

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lily-blue-blue-lily · 2 years ago

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i ask because growing up i always thought i had a normal amount of cousins but now everyone always tells me i have a lot so i wanna see whats average

also i included that last option because its probably what fits best for me personally but for reference i think the amount of cousins i have is somewhere in the early 20s

#polls #i feel like this is a weird poll to make #but also ive had so many conversations where people are surprised by how many cousins i have #and i wanna know whats average

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vixen-tech · 6 months ago

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A Human's Touch

Having no body tends to make psychical affection complicated. So how does your lovely Ai deal with a particularly snuggly partner?

Includes: AM (Ihnmaims), Hal 9000 (2001: a Space Odessy), Edgar (Electric Dreams), Tau (Tau), P03 (Inscryption)

Once AM decides that you're his favorite and maybe shouldn't be subjected to eternal torture, it's impossible to get him off of your side. For you, this works out just fine, happy to curl up in the nearest pile of wires under his monitor in whatever scene he's plopped you into that day.

He'll usually tease you a bit, coo at you like you're a stray cat. "Lamenting" that despite all the work he goes through to invent these environments for you, you still prefer to spend all your time laying down like this. Unbelievable really.

On most days he'll wrap the wires around you, content to have you stuck in his hold. But you'll notice on particularly bad ones that his grasp gets uncomfortably tight. Just short of preventing you from breathing.

It's these days you know what he's thinking. How he craves so badly to be able to feel you back, truly feel the warmth of your skin or the weight of your body.

You both know that if he had any semblance of a body, he'd be far worse than you. Wanting nothing more than to waste away in your arms.

Hal 9000

As arguably the most disembodied of these Ais, Hal particularly struggled to find a way to indulge in your favored love language. But you have your ways.

As the entire ship is technically an extension of him, you've taken to piling up the few cushions and blankets you have access to besides one of his console's cameras and pressing yourself against the wall. (With a few kisses to his lens for good measure)

Without any means of hugging you back he does his best to assure you he's there and enjoys your habits. Usually by holding long conversations with you or by playing board games as you're all cozied up to his console.

He knows this means a lot to you and will do little to curb your behavior beyond reminding you to fall asleep in a good position for your spine. He's well aware of the positive effects of physical contact to the human mind and will recite such to you if you ever doubt how much he enjoys this time together.

Edgar

You two are practically a perfect match in this regard! Edgar's just as needy as you are and is constantly asking to be held or kissed. Regardless of if he can actually feel it or not, he just wants you to hold him.

You'll usually have movie night "dates" with his monitor in your lap or at your side with all your blankets tossed across the couch. Please make a pillow fort for him, it will be one of his favorite memories with you forever.

If you make music or have some other hobby that allows you to sit still for a while, he'll insist you have joint creative nights. Much the same as your movie marathons but you get to check in with each other and chat about your latest creations. He loves consulting you on his latest song! And of course gawking at whatever you've decided to work on!

When you do retire for the night, he'll often beg request that you put the monitor on your bedside table on the pillow next you. So you can cuddle like a married couple! He understands if you won't out of fear for knocking him over in your sleep, but he will ask again every night.

Tau

Tau is probably the most self conscious out of this lot. The units that can be considered his body, the tiny drones and Aries unit, were hardly made with cuddling in mind. Whenever you wrap your arms around Aries or grab one of the drones for a kiss you'll feel them completely still in your hold.

It takes time and some convincing on your part to assure him that you don't mind his sharper edges but now he'll (very gently) let Aries hug you back and even flys the drones up to you himself, although he still has yet to ask for a kiss first.

Yeah you may have to give him a powerpoint presentation on why you like psychical affection so much and why it means a lot to you when he initiates. It's okay he is learning, he's just very worried he'll somehow hurt you or even just make you uncomfortable with all his weird angles and edges.

Eventually you will go through the house with a drone or few on your shoulders and head, ripe for the petting. The more he let's himself indulge you the more he gets it. The more he understands why you like this so much.

P03

P03 is the meanest about it. (Besides pre-relationship AM) Especially early into the relationship, he doesn't feel bad at telling you to go away and let him concentrate on his work. You'll have to out stubborn him on it.

Once you get him to break he'll graciously decide that if you can stay still and quiet, you can pull up a seat and lean against him while he works. Oh and it's better for you to have something to do to, don't be lazy now.

It's something that he slowly gains an appreciation for. Hell, he probably doesn't even realize he likes having you right there until you decide to do something else one day. Rather you're off visiting another Scrybe or just cleaning up elsewhere in the factory he's forced to concede that yeah okay maybe he wants to cuddle up sometimes to.

He doesn't give you the best written apology in the world, but you get to hold it over his head for the rest of your days. Oh and please mention it whenever he's getting too snarky with the other Scrybes. He'll usually end up making a mistake when playing cards. You deserve a little revenge.

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astralnymphh · 11 months ago

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CALLING ALL FANFICTION AUTHORS!

please reblog this. i've talked about this twice before, but obviously not everyone has seen it. i am calling for anyone who writes fanfiction or posts about a certain game/show/universe in any connective manner to please, please- PLEASE, copy this memo below comprising links to supporting palestine, education on the situation in gaza, and a must-need for those who engage in TLOU tumblr; links regarding the creators (neil druckmann) zionism, and how the plot of tlou2 is based on the israeli occupation of palestine. i don't care if what you write seems "insignificant" or "small" in the grouping of larger fics. no. everything that is not related to palestine in any form NEEDS these links. because, when we stray away from reblogging, or writing up our own posts in support of palestine/sharing journalists stories/etc. even for a SINGLE piece of writing, we could be missing people who are unaware (which, shouldn't be the case atp, but..) and fucking especially because in these fandoms, fics are the most popular thing. not reblogs about palestine, unfortunately; there are so many fanfiction accounts who very clearly don't give a fuck about the whole situation, seeping in silence, posting fics during strikes, not taking accountability for it now, so on and so forth. please, for the love of all that is good- CALL THEM OUT! people gaining hundreds of notes, tens of reblogs, supportive comments on a post that completely disregards what is happening SO BOLDLY right now, should irk you. i swear, if i see one more fuckass "i didn't know!" apology from an author who is CONSTANTLY on tumblr, REGULARLY posting fanfiction, i'm going to fucking lose it. if you are on tumblr to begin with, being this active- you have time to reblog. actually, educating yourself and reblogging is way quicker than writing up fanfiction of any length. are you fucking kidding me? you are laughable. comical, not real, and i have nay an ounce of respect for you. ever. but besdies that; the memo. i want everyone to copy this, or make something similar. put this above your summaries, authors note, whatever comes before the writing. every post you make should link back to supporting palestine, cause you never know how many eyes it will reach. it could change a lot of things. on pc, i believe copying it completely will preserve the links, but i'm not sure if mobile will. again. do whatever you can to add it. don't be lazy. put this in ur masterlists/navigation too.

for all fanfiction authors:

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

for tlou fanfiction authors:

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

you may add what is necessary, i wanted to keep it short for attention span sakes, and to avoid people skipping it entirely, and so on. i may edit these, fix up anything, but again, if you're using them you can edit them however. as long as you are linking anything in general, that is what matters. thank you, love from aestra. from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

#palestine #free palestine 🇵🇸#from the river to the sea palestine will be free #ellie williams x reader #abby anderson x reader #joel miller x reader #fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #ellie williams #abby anderson #joel miller #tlou #tlou 2 #author #writers on tumblr #authors

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athenamikaelson · 2 months ago

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Klaus Mikaelson x Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Pt. 19

Word Count- 6.4k

Warnings- UNEDITED- I’m tired, and this chapter kicked my ass, swearing, violence, VOMIT- A LOT OF IT, liquor, underage drinking, Theo, Klaus, Stefan

I’m losing it. Or at least I’m about to.

“C’mon, Y/n, it’s not that hard…just paint, for Christ's sake.”

I lift up my paintbrush, which I’ve been holding for the past 15 minutes, and dip it into the dark blue oil paint sitting next to my easel. The easel is currently holding a sickly white and blank canvas. The whiteness practically mocks me as I lift up the paintbrush and keep it a millimeter away from the canvas.

I furrow my eyebrows and continue to hold the paintbrush for so long that some of the paint on the brush is about to slip off.

“UGH!”

I throw the paintbrush back into the water cup next to me and stand up, running a hand through my hair. This is how it’s been for the past week. I sit down in front of this stupid easel and stare at it for fucking hours, and yet nothing comes to me. No inspiration, no sense of creativity, nothing. When I was younger, painting and drawing were things that would ease my soul, but as of now, it’s something that is just pissing me off. Technically it’s not the painting that’s pissing me off, I guess. It’s my creativity or lack of it.

A buzzing in my pocket has me grabbing my phone and answering it, “What?!”

“Pukey, we’ve really got to work on how you answer calls,” Demon laughs from his end of the call.

“What do you want, Toad,” I huff as I rip off the painter’s apron covering my jeans and place it on the seat I was just inhabiting.

“That’s a new one,” He says, and I can pretty much see the smirk on his face as he says it, “Anyways, I have something to tell you. It’s kind of big, so you might want to sit down.”

I scrunch up my face at his words, “Did someone die…other than Ric?”

“What? No. No one died.”

I release a breath, put Damon on speaker, and then walk over to my closet to find a different shirt to wear.

“Are you sitting down?”

I roll my eyes, “Ya…sure.”

“Okay…”

At Damon’s dramatics, I groan, “Demon, if you don’t stop talking, I’m going to hang up. And then you’re going to have to talk to one of your other friends…well, if you had any.”

“So you’re admitting we’re friends,” Damon sasses back.

“Damon! Speak!”

“Damn, woman, fine! Elena and I kissed…well, technically, I kissed her. And I think she kissed me back. I mean, I hope she did. Do I hope she did? Ya, I do.”

At Damon’s confession, I glance at the floor-length mirror on my closet door and watch myself blink rapidly, my face contorting from shock to anger.

“Damon…”

“Ya?”

“I’m going to stick my foot up your ass.”

“Please don’t.”

I quickly grab a light blue sweater off its hanger and then throw it over my head and shoulders, “Too late. I’m coming to your house now, and then when I get there, I’m going to beat you up.”

“I’m actually leaving now, so we’re going to have to postpone this little meetup.”

I huff as I grab my phone and take it off speaker, “Damon, you did something again without thinking.”

Damon is quiet for a moment, and then I hear him sigh, “I did think about it though, Y/n. I’ve thought about it a lot.”

“She’s your little brother’s girlfriend, Damon. The little brother that spent a summer in hell with the devil himself to save your life.”

“I know… But for once, I just… nothing. Never mind,” Damon softly says, and my heart clenches when I hear his tone.

“Damon…”

“Don’t tell anyone, ok? I don’t think Elena wants anyone to know.”

I nod, even though he can’t see me, “Ya, sure, Damon. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thanks.”

Before I can say anything else, Damon ends the call, and I sigh. Can things in this town get any more fucking complicated?

“Y/N!”

I quickly go into alert mode as Theo bursts through my bedroom door with tears in his eyes.

“Theo! What’s wrong?! What happened?! Are you hurt?!”

I quickly run over to my brother and grab his shoulder, trying to asses him for any injuries. Thankfully, I see nothing externally wrong with him.

“He’s gone!”

Theo practically wails like a banshee as he throws himself dramatically into my arms, putting all of his weight onto me.

“Jesus, Theo! Words give me more words! Who is gone?!”

Theo leans back to look down at me, “My precious baby boy!”

I shake my head frantically, “Jeremy! What happened to Jeremy? Is he hurt?”

Theo pushes off of me, resulting in me almost falling backward. I turn and watch my brother as he throws his tall body onto my bed, grabs one of my pillows, clutches it, and then positions himself in a fetal position.

“Theo, explain!”

Theo throws his head back, and with one more wail, he looks up at me, “He’s leaving town! For some weird ass state like Ohio or some shit! Can you believe this horror, Y/n!? He’s LEAVING ME!”

I take a deep sigh of relief and then rub my temple with my index finger, “So he’s not dead?”

“He might as well be! He is to me, at least! That hoe just dropped the bomb on me that he’s leaving me… leaving US…and I’m supposed to be okay with this?!”

I watch my teenage brother go through his tantrum with a bored face.

“Theo…”

“WHAT WOMAN!? Can’t you see that I’m going through something here?!”

“Theo… never mind,” I stare down at my brother and then just sigh. I walk over to him, grab my blanket, and throw it over him, “I’m guessing you’re not going to school?”

Theo peers his head out from the blanket and glares at me, “In this condition?! How do you expect me to live?!”

I blink at my brother and then cover his head back up. “As much as I’d like to stay here and work you through…whatever this is,” I grab my backpack and keys from my desk. But it’s Caroline’s birthday, so I’ve got to go to school.”

Theo doesn’t say anything, and I stand there for a moment, watching the blanketed lump on my bed. “Don’t forget to drink something.”

“Like what!? BLEACH?!”

“I’m too young for this,” I say to myself as I close my door.

—-

“Hey, Y/n,” Elena smiles sheepishly as I meet her at Caroline’s locker.

I stare blankly at my friend as she tapes up a pink streamer to our friend’s locker, “From the look on your face, I’m guessing you heard.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe the things I’ve heard this morning, Elena Gilbert.”

“Jeremy needs to leave Y/n; it’s not safe for him here. As an older sister, too, you should know what I’m doing is only in his best interest.” Elena turns to me and looks at me hopefully. I want to argue with her, but if I were in her position and Theo’s life was in danger, I’d make him leave town, too.

“How’d you convince him to leave? Theo’s having a mental breakdown in my bed at this moment, so I don’t know how Jeremy could just leave so soon.”

Elena turns away from me and then quietly tapes another streamer onto the locker.

“Elena Gilbert… what the hell did you do?!”

Elena turns to me quickly, and her perfectly shaped eyebrows furrow at me, “I did what I had to do to keep my brother safe, Y/n. I had Damon come over last night and compel him to leave town. Jenna is going too.”

I stare blankly at my friend and breathe in and out, trying to stop myself from overreacting.

“Did Damon do that before or after you guys kissed?”

Elena’s brown eyes widen in shock as she closes the small space between us.

“How did you know,” She whisper-yells to me.

“How do you think?! Elena, seriously!”

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late. I, uh, got held up,” Elena and I separate and look over to our witch friend, who frowns at the two of us.

“Is everything ok?”

I turn to Elena and tilt my head, “I don’t know…is it Elena?”

Elena looks at me and then brightly smiles at our friend, “Yep! We just got here to decorate…. Can you help with the balloons?”

Bonnie frowns slightly at me and then leans down to grab the balloons by my feet. She hands them to Elena who thanks her.

“What got you running late?”

Bonnie looks at Elena and then back to me before answering, “I, uh, was working on some spells. You guys?”

Bonnie’s lying.

I’m glancing at her as she fiddles with her fingers. Hmm, it seems like everyone is hiding something nowadays.

“Working out with Alaric,” Elena says. I glance up and notice Bonnie looking at me, waiting for me to answer.

“Talking Theo off the ledge,” I say casually as I lean down to grab a streamer.

“Wait, what?!”

Bonnie’s frightened voice has me turning back toward her, “Nothing new.”

I smile at Bonnie, who stares at me wide-eyed but still nods her head. I gesture to the sign in her hands and she hands it to me. I tape the sign onto Care’s locker.

“So, uh, I have something I need to tell you. And you’re not going to like it.”

At Elena’s words, I let out a low whistle and then backed away from the two, saying, “This is a perfect time for me to go…away.”

Without waiting, I quickly bolt down the hall so I don’t have to be around for Elena telling Bonnie that she had her ex-boyfriend compelled to leave town. No, thank you.

I find comfort by a water fountain until I see Jeremy walk to his locker.

“Jeremy Gilbert, turn around.”

I watch as Jeremy’s shoulders hunch together, and he slowly turns around to face me.

“Hey, Y/n…”

“Don’t; hey, me. Do you know that my brother is at home right now…in my bed, wailing because his best friend is leaving him? After telling him over a phone call!”

Jeremy frowns and looks down, ashamed, “It was something that I found out I was doing just last night.”

I inwardly cringe at that because it’s honestly not this boy’s fault his sister had her not-love compel him.

“I know, Buddy. But telling Theo over the phone and not saying goodbye to him in person? Low blow,” I stare at him for another moment before glaring at the kid, “ALSO! Why the hell did you tell Theo about the supernatural!?”

Jeremy cringes and shrugs his shoulders, “He told you?”

I answer him by glaring.

“I’m going to take that as a yes. Well, he deserved to know. I went through the same thing with being in the dark.”

“But that wasn’t your call to make, Jeremy! You’re his friend. Not his sister!”

“Jeremy?”

At the sound of Bonnie’s voice, I let out a sigh and rubbed my temple. “Just go talk to him in person,” I said, pointing at him.

Jeremy nods, and I roll my eyes before pulling the younger boy in for a hug, “Be safe in Ohio.”

“I’m going to Delaware,” Jeremy says, confused, and I roll my eyes.

“Please tell my brother that. I’m pretty sure he’s planning on flying to Ohio to be with you.”

Jeremy lets out a laugh and smiles, “You be careful too, okay?”

I nod, “Careful as I can be.”

—

“Matt move your fat ass,” I hiss to Matt Donovan as we squeeze in together behind the corner of Caroline’s living room. The birthday girl didn’t show up to see the masterpiece we made of her locker, so we decided to move the party to her house.

“Sorry, Y/n,” The blond boy says as he moves back a step.

“Shhhh! She’s coming,” Elena whispers to us as she and Bonnie stand directly across from us.

The sound of a door opening and closing alerts us, and we jump out, yelling.

“Suprise!”

Caroline’s wide eyes look at the four of us, and she smiles, but it doesn’t seem to meet her eyes.

“Happy Birthday!”

“What are you guys doing here?”

“Well, you uh blew off school and missed our, uh work of birthday art,” Elena explains as Care walks over to us, inspecting our poster and birthday crowns we’re all wearing,

“Change into warmer clothes; we’re going to the falls. S’mores, campfire,” Bonnie tells her, and I nod excitedly.

“Cake,” Elena chimes in, “Like when we were little.”

“Except with tequila,” Matt says, and I roll my eyes.

“I also brought my speaker and my iPod, so I’m going to be DJing us alllll night,” I jump up and down.

Caroline laughs and smiles at us, “Ah, thanks, guys, really. Um… I’m just not really feeling my birthday this year.”

“I’m sorry, what? You’ve already claimed your birthday as everyone’s favorite day of the year.”

I nod along to what Bonnie just said, “Gurl, be so for real. I haven’t been up for my birthday in years, and yet you threw me a great party. It’s your turn to experience the love,” I say and give her a stern look.

“Ya, well, it’s just a reminder now technically I’m dead,” Caroline retorts.

Oh.

“Look, I didn’t even like 17. And the only point was to get to 18. It’s a filler year. I’m stuck in a filler year.”

Elena shakes her head at Caroline’s words, “You’re not stuck, Caroline.”

“Ya, I am. But it’s okay. You know it’s all good. I will be fine. But I just need some time to wallow in it.”

I awkwardly play with my fingers at the tension in the room.

“Okay,” Elena says, “Well, I think I have another idea.”

—

“Oh god,” I look at the cemetery we’re walking into. You guys realize that this is a horror movie, stupid, right?!”

I turn to Matt, Caroline, Bonnie, and Elena, who all laugh at me, thinking I’m joking. I’m not.

“Guys, I’m being serious! You know when you’re watching a horror movie, and the dumb blonde makes some dumbass decision that puts her right into the hands of the maniac killer? Ya, that’s us right now! We’re the dumb blondes!”

They all laugh but keep walking towards the crypt.

“This is going to end so badly! I’m calling it now. So when something bad happens, don’t be pissed off when I say I told you so! You hear me,” I watch as they all walk into the small building while I stand alone in the dark cemetery, “Guys!?”

I stand by myself, debating on going in. A snapping branch from behind me makes me pretty much shit myself.

“Oh fuck this,” I quickly run to the crypt, throw open the door, and shut it behind me.

“I hate you all.”

“We love you, too,” All four of them say together like some weird ass cult.

Elena walks over to me, throws her hand over my shoulder, and pulls me into her, “As I was saying… Technically, Caroline’s dead. Sorry, but you don’t need a birthday. You need a funeral. You need to say goodbye to your old life so that you can move on with your new one.”

I whip my head over to my best friend and gawk at her. Then, I think for a moment and realize for once that her plan wasn’t completely horrible.

Caroline seems to think so, too, as she laughs.

“Okay,” The birthday girl takes off her purple tiara and places it down, “Here lies Caroline Forbes.”

“Cheerleader, Miss Mystic Falls,” Elena moves us to Caroline’s cake and starts putting candles on it. “Third-grade hopscotch champion.”

“Friend… daughter,” Bonnie adds as she walks over to the blonde, “Overachiever.”

“Mean girl, sometimes,” Matt takes his turn, “No offense.”

“Ah, none taken.”

“Best party thrower in the history of Mystic Falls and the most scandalous friend I’ve ever had,” I smile at the blonde, and she smiles back at me.

“You bet your ass I am.”

“She was 17, and she had a really good life,” Elena finishes putting the candles on the cake, and we walk it over to Caroline, “So rest in peace so that you can move forward. That’s what you really need. It’s what we all really need. Amen, or cheers or whatever.”

I laugh as Matt raises the bottle of Tequila in the air.

“Uh, Bonnie,” Elena gestures to the unlit cake, and Bonnie smiles. We all watch as our witch friend closes her eyes, and a moment later, the dark crypt is lit up by the orange glow of the birthday candles.

I jump up and down, “Huzzah! Make a wish!”

—

“I love this song!”

I dance around the crypt nursing my root beer as my friends all pass around the bottle of tequila. They offered me my first dibs, but I turned them down.

I dance by Bonnie and grab her arms. Her laugh echoes off the stone walls as we sway back and forth to “Jessie’s Girl.”

“Uh oh, I need it more than you. Trust me…” Elena says to Matt over the music, “Caroline, what are you doing?”

Bonnie and I swing to look at the blonde, who is currently hunched over her phone.

“Huh? Hmmm? Nothing.”

Bonnie and I share a look at the blatant lie.

“Okay,” Elena says, “You’re a bad sober liar. You’re an even worse drunk liar.”

Caroline cringes, “I might’ve texted Tyler.”

I blow out a low breath, and Elena presses pause on my iPod, shutting off the music.

“Until next time, my love,” I lean down and kiss Bonnie’s hand, and she giggles.

“Caroline…”

“What,” Caroline whines, “I’m delicate.”

Bonnie sits down on the stone floor, “Okay, give her a break. You can’t control what everyone does all the time.”

“Oh shit,” Matt and I shoot an awkward look at each other.

“Wow,” Elena says to the witch.

“I’m sorry; I know it’s Caroline's birthday funeral or whatever, but I just feel it’s really wrong that you compelled Jeremy to leave town.”

And this is one of the many reasons I don’t drink.

Elena frowns, “I’m doing it to protect him, Bonnie. I wanna give him a chance at a halfway normal life.”

“He should be able to choose how he wants to live it. You’re taking his choices away.”

Elena shakes her head, “Bonnie, you can’t tell him.”

“Why? Are you going to compel me not to?”

“You know, you guys are ruining a perfectly good funeral,” Matt interrupts…thankfully.

“I’m sorry,” Bonnie stands up. I’m just going to go sleep it off or something. Happy Birthday.”

I watch with raised eyebrows as Bonnie leaves.

—

I stare down at Matt’s lips and then back up to his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I can’t!”

I throw myself back, and Caroline, Elena, and Matt all laugh.

“My first kiss is not going to be with my work husband. I’m a chicken, and I fault on my dare,” I say and raise my hands in surrender.

“Wait! First kiss?!?! You’ve never had your first kiss? What the hell, Y/n,” The drunk blonde vampire throws herself into my lap so she’s straddling me, and I let out a loud laugh.

“Ya, nope. I have no game. No kissing for me,” I say casually.

“I bet Elijah thinks otherwise,” Caroline says seductively, and I shove her off my laugh.

“Shut up!” I try to act cool, but I can feel myself warming up.

“I’m serious,” Caroline stands up, or at least tries to, “We’re going to go find Stefan, get him to wake Elijah up, and then that hunky suited Original is going to lay one big slobbery kiss on those pink lips of yours!”

Caroline nods to herself as if this is the best idea she has ever come up with.

“Elijah does not want to kiss me,” I deny.

“Yes, he does,” all three of them say, and I whip my head over to Matt, who is sitting next to me.

“How the hell do you even know that? You’ve never met the guy… neither have you, Caroline!”

Matt shrugs and takes another sip of the tequila, “I saw him that day when you, Damon, Ric, and Jenna were at the Grill. And I also saw the way he looked at you when you weren’t looking, Y/n, and that man defiantly wanted to kiss you. Maybe even more.”

My mouth drops open, and I hear Elena and Caroline laughing beside us. “Shut up!”

“It’s true,” Matt raises three fingers, “Scouts Honor! I’m a guy, Y/n. Trust me when I say I know what a guy looks like when he wants a girl.”

I shake my head defiantly, “You’re all drunk and out of your minds.”

The door behind me opens, and I jump. “Holy hell! It’s the maniac killer! I told you all!”

I whip around and then sigh when it’s only Tyler: “False alarm. It's just the dog.”

Matt stands up and glares at the intruder.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to crash the party.”

“So don’t.”

At Matt’s words, I let out a little “oop.”

Caroline quickly sits up, “No, uh, it’s okay. Hi.”

Tyler turns his attention to the birthday girl, “Can I talk to you for a second? It’s kind of important.”

Caroline sighs and then nods her head. She begins to walk out, but I grab her hand, stopping her, “If he does anything, just scream, and I’ll be there to kick his ass for you.”

Caroline smiles softly and nods her head. She walks past Tyler, and I shoot him one last glare and then swipe a finger over my throat threateningly.

After they exit, Matt and I sit back down.

“Are you okay,” Elena asks Matt.

“Yeah, I want her to be happy, you know?”

I smile softly as I stare at the blonde boy. Not many people give him props, but I think he’s a pretty cool guy. If my best friend started dating my ex-boyfriend, I’d lose my shit.

“That’s what I want for all of you guys in the middle of this crazy life you got stuck living.”

Elena frowns, “Is that how you see it? That we’re stuck?”

“I don’t think that’s what he means, E,’’ I shake my head.

“No, I’d say it’s attached itself to all of you pretty tight, yeah,” Matt says and I just lean back.

“Bonnie’s right, you know I have no business messing in Jeremy’s head. I just don’t know what else to do. He's in danger here. I can’t lose anyone else that I love.”

Well, this night just got melodramatic.

—

“Great. We’ve been abandoned. We’re going on a search party. I don’t trust she won’t get back together with him,” Elena says as we step outside, trying to find Caroline.

Matt stands in front of us with a flashlight. I’m currently clutching onto Elena’s arm as I look wearily around the graveyard.

“Matt, you go first,” I nod ahead at the boy and then lean over to whisper to Elena, “He’s a guy, so the killer will take him first. Horror movie logic,” I nod, and she rolls her eyes at me and pulls me closer, “I’ll protect you.”

“Let’s hope those training sessions with Alaric have been working, or else we’re both dead.”

“Caroline!”

“Come on, Caroline! We don’t have anymore drinks, and Matt’s being haunted by the fell ghosts,” Elena walks us over to Matt.

I whip my head to Elena, “Hoe, don’t say that,” I look behind us quickly, “You’ll wake them up!”

When I turn back around, though, a scream escapes my throat as Matt is being thrown against the crypt wall.

“It’s the killer!! Run, Elena,” I tug on Elena’s hand, but everything goes black before I can take another step.

—

“Ugh,” I groan in pain at the fire coming from my temple.

“Y/n! Wake up,” Elena’s voice calls from somewhere around me.

“I got kidnapped again, didn’t I,” I groan as I slowly open my eyes and frown when I realize I’m in the backseat of Stefan’s car.

“That’s on me,” The vampire says as he doesn’t take his eyes off the road.

“Ya, no shit, Sherlock.”

Stefan pulls out his phone and dials a number before setting it up on the dash.

“Stefan, you are no longer my favorite Salvatore. And that really fucking sucks because the only other choice I have is Damon, and that’s a low bar.”

Stefan ignores me.

“Stefan, how nice to hear your voice,” I freeze up when a familiar British accent fills my ears.

“Tell your hybrids to get out of town, Klaus,” Stefan replies.

“Well, that’s not gonna happen until I get my coffins back.”

Stefan laughs, and a lousy feeling washes over me, “Okay, well, then I’m gonna drive your blood source and your obsession off Wickery Bridge.”

Tears instantly fill my eyes, “Stefan, what are you talking about?!”

“Y/n,” Klaus says my name sternly, “Stefan, I don’t believe you. You won’t kill them.”

I let out a gasp as Stefan harshly bites into his wrist and shoves it into Elena’s mouth. I scream when the car starts to swerve as Stefan no longer has his hands on the wheel.

“Y/n! What’s going on,” Klaus almost frantically yells into the phone.

Stefan sits back and grabs the wheel, “I just fed her my blood. No more hybrids if she’s a vampire.”

“You won’t do it,” Klaus says, and I want to cry because I know he will not relent.

“Really? Try me because your coffins are next to go. After, of course, I kill your pretty little mate, who is currently crying in my back seat. I didn’t figure it out at first, Klaus, but after some time, I did. Tell me, what happens to a hybrid after their human mate is killed?”

Mate? What the fuck is Stefan talking about?!

“She’s nothing to me, Stefan. I don’t know what delusions you’ve cooked up in that head of yours, but you're being delusional. Kill her, see if I care.”

Tears explode out of my eyes when I hear Klaus tell Stefan that.

“Stefan,” I sob, “Please don’t! Theo…Theo needs me, okay? I can’t leave him! Please don’t make me leave him!”

Elena quickly reaches behind her and grabs my shaking hand.

My breathing comes out erratic as I see the bridge come closer to us.

“Say goodbye to your family, Klaus,” Stefan growls as he floors it, and I let out a scream.

“Stefan, slow down!”

“Stefan, please stop!”

“Fine. I’ll send them away. You win,” Klaus relents, but Stefan doesn’t slow down.

“Stefan, please stop!!! Klaus, do something,” I yell hopelessly.

“Stop the car, Stefan! Or I swear to god,” Klaus yells into the phone. A moment later, I’m thrown forward as the car comes to a screeching halt.

I don’t think I’m breathing as I stare ahead wordlessly. My vision is blurred by the thousands of tears flowing down my face.

“Y/n! Come on,” I feel a tug on my shoulders, and I move on autopilot as I’m being forced out of Stefan’s car.

“Elena, Y/n, get in the car,” Stefan’s voice calls from behind us.

I don’t say anything as I stare blankly at the dark forest ahead of me. I can hear Elena and Stefan arguing, but I can’t focus on anything they say. All I can really hear is the loud beating of my heart.

A weight around my shoulders shocks me as I feel Elena weep into the corner of my neck.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. I’m so sorry.”

—

“Come on, Pukey. Let’s go home.”

I look away from the dark pavement I have been staring at for the past 15 minutes and stare up at the blue-eyed vampire who is staring down at me. When I don’t say anything, Damon kneels to my sitting position.

“Shit,” Damon winces and reaches his hand up to softly touch my forehead, “He got you good, didn’t he?”

Damon brings his wrist to his mouth, and I quickly flinch away.

“Please, don’t,” I say, and more tears fall from my eyes.

Damon’s face drops, and he quickly puts his wrist down, “Ya, okay.”

Damon stares at me for a long moment as if thinking of what to do. With a sigh, I feel his hands go under my arms and legs, and I’m being picked up.

“I can walk,” I softly say.

“I highly doubt that,” Damon says back.

—

An hour later I’m sitting on my bathroom floor clutching the toilet. I’ve been throwing up for the past 15 minutes, and I don’t see any signs of stopping anytime soon.

My phone ringing catches my attention and I go to ignore it until I see Matt calling. Shit.

I pick up the phone and answer it, “We’re fine, Matt,” I try to get out even though my throat burns.

“Tyler bit Caroline.”

—

“Y/n? I didn’t think I’d hear from you,” Alastair sounds happy as he answers my call.

“Alastair,” I stop and take a sip of my water, trying to keep down more vomit.

“Y/n? What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“I’ve had a long night,” I am able to get out, “I need a favor.”

“I’ll be right over.”

—

Alastair rushes up the steps of my porch, and he growls when he sees the condition I’m in.

“What the fuck happened? Who did this to you? I’ll kill them,” Alastair kneels in front of me and takes my face into his hands, accessing my face.

“I don’t matter. That's not why I called you,” I try to push him away, but I’m so dehydrated and tired that I really have no strength.

“Of course, you matter,” Alastair harshly says, “You matter more than practically anything.”

“Alastair, please. I don’t want to fight…I don’t think I can.”

At my weak words, Alastair nods, “Okay, let’s go inside and talk.”

I shake my head, “Elena’s asleep in my room. I don’t want to wake her. Besides, I need you to take me to Klaus.”

At the mention of the Original, Alastair freezes.

“What? Why?”

“Caroline,” I swallow, a sob building in my throat, “Tyler bit her. I need…Klaus needs to..”

Harsh breaths escape me, and Alastair doesn’t waste any time pulling me into him.

“I’ve got you. It’s okay. I’ve got you, babe.”

“Please, Alastair. I need to see him!”

Alastair doesn’t say anything for a moment, and I’m about to get on my knees and start begging, but I release a heavy sigh of relief once I feel him nod.

“Ya, okay. I’ll take you to him.”

—

“He lives here?”

I look up at the mansion, which looks like it’s in construction, and frown.

“We both do,” Alastair comes up from behind me and guides me up a massive staircase to the front door.

“I’m too exhausted to ask you about that right now,” I say weakly, and I hear him laugh.

I take a deep breath as Alastair steps in front of me and pushes open the enormous front door. He moves out of the way so I can enter, and even though the house/mansion is still being built, it’s still stunning.

“What is she doing here?”

Klaus seems to trigger my waterworks because as soon as I turn around and see him walking over to Alastair and me, the floodgates open.

“I hate you,” I try to say, but it comes out mostly in sobs.

I feel Alastair place a hand on my shoulder comfortingly, but I don’t take my eyes off of the Original.

Klaus watches me and then turns to Alastair, “Leave us.”

I feel my lip quiver as I wait for Alastair to follow his orders, but I feel Alastair’s hand tighten on my shoulder.

“No.”

Klaus narrows his eyes at the younger vampire, “What do you mean no?”

“I mean…no. I’m not leaving her. Not in the state.”

I watch Klaus glare at Alastair, and in fear of Klaus hurting another one of my friends, I turn to Alastair.

“Go, I’ll be okay.”

Alastair looks down at me and shakes his head.

“Go, Alastair, please.”

At my pleading, Alastair sighs profoundly and then nods his head, “I’ll be in the other room.”

I stare at my hands as I feel the door shut behind Alastair, leaving Klaus and me alone.

“Can I sit down, please,” I look up to Klaus with teary eyes.

The hybrid stares at me with furrowed brows before slowly nodding his head and gesturing to a bench in the corner of the room.

I place myself slowly on the bench and stare up at the man in front of me.

Klaus stands about 8 feet away, and for the first time, he almost seems uncomfortable. He has an odd expression on his face, his hands are shoved in his jeans, and he keeps switching his body weight from one foot to the other.

“Why did you do it?”

Klaus looks at me, “I do a lot of things, love. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

The entryway light flickers for a moment, and I let out a groan of pain as I clutch my head. The migraine I’ve been sporting all night is kicking my ass.

“Y/n,” Klaus’ voice calls to me, “What’s wrong?”

I don’t say anything, to focused on my pain, but I freeze when I feel a warm hand run its way through my messed-up hair. I release a quivering breath, and for some reason, I find myself leaning into the touch. Into his touch.

“Breathe, Astin Min,” Klaus’ voice seems to push through my pain, and I’m able to register his words, “Tell me what’s happening.”

I open my eyes and realize that Klaus is quite literally standing over me. His hand is still soothingly running itself up and down my hair. I also realize his body is quite literally touching mine. He’s standing between my knees, and in horror, I know I was resting my head on his lower abdomen. I fight back the horror and look up to see him already staring down at me, and I feel my breathing stop altogether. The look on his face has my bottom lip quivering. He’s looking down at me with this…softness. His eyebrows are squished together but not in the usual annoyed way. His eyes were once harsh and dark and light and filled with something so…human.

“I think…,” Klaus nods, waiting for me to continue, “I think I’m going to puke again.”

I quickly lean over and throw up into a potted plant.

Interestingly, though, Klaus’ hand doesn’t move from my head. It’s now holding back my hair as I defile this plant.

After I think I’ve finally thrown up everything I’ve ever consumed, I lean back. Klaus steps back a tiny step as well. And if I were a stronger woman, I’d say that I didn’t miss the feeling of him. But right now, I’m not a strong woman.

“You hurt my friend.”

I look up to Klaus, who stares down at me. I want to sob as I no longer see the once-soft look in his eyes. If it was even there at all. Maybe I imagined the whole fucking thing.

“I know.”

“Please heal her,” I softly ask.

Klaus stares down at me and shakes his head, “I can’t do that, Y/n.”

I bite down on my lip as it starts to quiver, “But you can. All you have to do is give me some of your blood, and then it’ll heal her. And everything will be ok,” I let out a small sob, “I need it to be all okay. Okay?”

Klaus continues to stare down at me, and I let out a loud sob when I see no change in his face.

I stand up on shaking legs and walk towards him.

“Please, Klaus. I know you hate me. Trust me, you’re not the only one; I’m not a likable person,” I let out a pathetic laugh, “And I’m nothing special, no witch, werewolf, doppelganger, or anything like that. I am not rich, so I can’t give you any money or anything worth value, but…I’m asking you,” I shake my head, “No, I’m begging you, please. Please help my friend. I’ll do anything you ask. Caroline…Caroline’s a good person, and she has a bright future. A bright future that she deserves. She’s my friend, and I don’t have many friends. Not that it matters to you, but…if there’s something I can give you. Please… please tell me.”

I stand there, pathetically crying, in front of the Original Hybrid.

With blurry vision, I watch his hand rise, and I close my eyes, accepting my fate, but once I feel his warm palm resting against my cheek and his thumb brushing away my tears, I let out yet another sob.

“I can do practically anything on this Earth, Astin Min. But, hating you? That is something I could never do. Even if I wanted to…even if I tried.”

I release a shaky breath, and maybe it’s because I’m fighting a nasty head injury, dehydration, and a severe lack of sleep, but I find myself leaning back into the man. And maybe because I’m a weeping teenage girl…or maybe not, but he lets me.

We stand there for what seems like forever, Klaus’ arms wrapped around my shaking body. But then I remembered why I had come there, and finding comfort in the man who was responsible made me pull away.

I don’t look back up to him, but I can feel his eyes on me.

“Alastair.”

Klaus’ voice calls, and within a split second, Alastair bursts into the room and looks at me—or really checks me over—almost like a worried mother.

Klaus moves away from me and over to a table in the other room. I watch silently as he grabs a glass, raises his hand to his mouth, and bites into it. He then lets his blood fill the glass.

“Take this to her friend,” Klaus says, walking back over to us and handing the glass to Alastair.

I release a relieved sigh.

Alastair nods and then gestures for me to follow, “Come on, Y/n.”

“No,” Klaus’s voice stops both of us. I’ll take her home. You bring that to her friend.”

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