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mister0ctopus · 2 months ago

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Server Room (4)

(mini series) - jeon jungkook

Pairings: IT!JK x Reader

Summary: Your new IT guy is quiet and shy. But when you accidentally caught him doing something in the server room, while moaning your name, you just had to pretend you didn’t see that, right?

Ratings: 18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warnings: Explicit language, Mature Contents

Au/Genre: Office au, Mini Series

Word Count: 4.4K

a/n: sorry for the delay, ive been feeling meh these past few weeks. i couldnt do anything, but i got out of the house yesterday and it was great 😌

🐙 Masterlist / AskMe?

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 5

“We haven’t seen you in a while!"

Taehyung announces, his full voice cutting through your frantic typing. “This project is keeping you from us,”

You swivel in your chair, blinking as you return to the real world, and you see Taehyung pouting and Jimin, holding out a cup of coffee like an angel of mercy.

"Your boss is always giving you hard projects with tight deadlines!" Jimin states, as he hands you the coffee his irritation seeping through the smile.

“Thanks,” you mouthed. One sip of the caffeine reminded you that you’d been glued to this chair since morning with no breaks. Your legs probably forgot how to walk.

"Yeah, that’s what I’ve been saying! She’s either obsessed with you or trying to kill you," Taehyung chimes in, crossing his arms. “Or both. She doesn’t do this to anyone else on your team. Tell me this is your villain arc.”

You sigh as you stretch your back. "I’m the only senior left in the team, okay? After Mr. Tan resigned, all his VIP clients became mine. I don’t really have a choice."

"You need a break," Taehyung declared. "Let’s try that new place across the street for lunch. Jungkook says they serve the best Mexican food."

Ah, Jungkook.

The name pulls at something in your chest. You cleared your throat.

"Since when are you into Mexican food? You don't like spicy.”

He grins, unbothered. "I can skip the hot sauce. But Jungkook says it’s legit, and he doesn’t lie about food."

"Seems like you’re becoming besties with him," you say, keeping your voice casual.

"Oh, he’s great! Always chill, fun to be around. Knows all the best spots for food!” He turns to Jimin for validation, and they high-five.

"I think I’ll pass," you said, taking a sip of the coffee. "I really need to finish this today. You guys go and let me know if it’s worth the hype."

Jimin frowns, his eye smile turning into a pout. "You sure? You’ve been working non-stop. It’s not healthy, YN. Take a break!"

You glance at the screen, the cursor blinking like it’s mocking you.

"I promise,” you replied, your voice softer. “I will," knowing full well that you wouldn’t.

You decided to take your lunch later than everyone else, choosing the quiet solitude of the office cafeteria at off-peak hours. Ordering something light, you sat in a corner, hoping to catch a moment of peace.

But peace? Lol.

Staring blankly at your mug, you tried to turn your brain off, but the week’s events replayed on a loop—meetings, deadlines, late nights. And, of course, the project. Your golden ticket to the promotion you’d been breaking your back for.

You were halfway through your sandwich when muffled giggles from the table next to you pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. Curiosity got the better of you, and you glanced over, only to see a group of girls from HR, eyes sparkling with admiration. Following their line of sight, you landed on him.

Jungkook.

Effortlessly charming as usual, chatting with a girl from Marketing. His raven hair styled to show his forehead. His smile was so easy and disarming it could probably convince a cat to take a bath.

Fuck. Why was he getting hotter?

You hadn’t seen him since the night he dropped you off a few days ago, your entire interaction limited to his car radio and your yawns. You’d been so exhausted you didn’t even have time to process his stupidly perfect profile in the dim glow of his dashboard, and his glances here and there.

The girl laughed, leaning in closer, completely captivated.

Yeah, girl. I get it.

You got it. Of course, Jungkook wasn’t just attractive, he had that rare ability to make everyone around him feel seen, like they mattered.

He had helped you many times, and you couldn’t deny that he made you feel important.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a scoff. "Lunch with my friends, now wooing the entire company.”

Of course, because the universe has a sense of humor, his gaze flicked in your direction.

Caught!

You panicked and snapped your attention back to your table, hyper-focusing on the crumbs scattered across your plate.

Back to work, you reminded yourself. Stop dilly-dallying. Deadlines don’t meet themselves.

Without sparing another glance, you stood, your chair scraping lightly against the tile floor. With purposeful steps, you left the cafeteria, your focus already shifting back to the mountain of tasks waiting at your desk.

Hours later, your phone buzzed, pulling you out of the depths of your typing. The buzzing continued, and when it started to feel too annoying, you finally checked to see what all the fuss was about.

You had been added to a group chat: CABIN IN THE LAKE.

Oh, right! The annual cabin trip. That chaotic tradition where you and the group rent the same cozy Airbnb cabin, always timed perfectly for a three-day weekend, thanks to the holiday on Monday.

It started as Jimin and Taehyung’s tradition. Best friends since college, they used to rally their old friend group for Tae’s birthday back when no one was married, living abroad, or caught up in other life changes. But life stole their original squad, leaving just the two of them clinging to their precious tradition.

Enter: the work friends.

First, there was Yoongi. No one knew how Jimin and Taehyung managed to convince him to join. He initially declined, calling it a hassle, but then showed up ridiculously early on the day they were set to leave. Next came Allie, the organizational queen who meticulously planned everything down to the last detail on Excel sheets. And finally, there was you—the corporate masochist roped in because, apparently, you 'needed a break.' They weren’t wrong, of course.

Now, three years later, it had become your thing.

Allie: 📢 Attention: Our annual cabin escape kicks off this weekend. Prepare yourselves, pack early, and leave the burdens of work behind. NO work allowed at the cabin. @ YN, I’m talking to you. 👀 Jimin: If I see a laptop in there, I will literally throw it outside. Tae: no work on my birthday event please thank you! @ YN I’m talking to you 👀 Allie: @ YN, don’t ignore us! You: Calm down, lol. I’m literally finishing everything this week so I can relax with you all Jimin: finally, work-life balance 😀 You: 🙄 im trying my best to work-life-balance the shit out of this Tae: we invited Jungkook during lunch fyi Jungkook: yeaaahhhh👍 Allie: lets talk tomorrow what food to prepare when youre back from your vacation @ Yoongi Yoongi: 👍 Tae: I wish I had so many paid leaves that I could go on a trip after a fishing trip like Yoongi. Jimin: then stop using your PTOs for stupid shit! Yoongi: seen

The phone buzzed relentlessly with notifications. Jimin rambling about work-life balance, Tae hyping Jungkook up for the trip, and Allie sending yet another reminder about what to pack. You muted the chat and let out a long, drawn-out sigh.

Cabin. Lake. Jungkook.

Before you could overthink spending a weekend with him outside of work, you put your attention back to your computer screen, pouring all your tension into the project.

The next day, as expected, you nailed the presentation. Of course, you did. Your boss was full of praise, and the VIP clients were very impressed with the discussion. Sometimes you wondered why you stressed so much, but deep down, you knew the answer. Being good wasn’t enough, you had to be great.

Your sense of self-worth was deeply tied to your accomplishments at work. Sad, but whatever.

You walked into the pantry after the presentation, on your way to another client meeting, when you see your friends, all huddled around.

Yoongi’s fresh off vacation, laughing with Tae, Jimin, and Jungkook. The energy in the room was light, the kind that made you want to linger, but…work. Ugh.

“Didn’t catch a thing!” Yoongi chuckled, shaking his head.

“So why do you always go fishing with him?” Jimin asked, barely holding back a laugh.

“Eh, I didn’t want him to be alone,” Yoongi shrugged, crossing his arms. “Also, someone had to be there for his dad jokes.”

Jungkook groaned. “Man, I miss Jin’s dad jokes. They’re so awful, but it grew on me.”

“You say that now,” Yoongi said dryly, “but after two straight hours of ‘What do you call a fish with no eyes? Fsh,’ I was ready to jump in the lake myself.”

The group burst into laughter, and you found yourself laughing too. They spotted you lingering in the doorway.

“YN! Join us!” Yoongi called, waving you over.

You shook your head, holding up a hand. “I’m literally just passing by. I have a client meeting in like… right now.”

Jimin and Tae both dramatically groaned.

But before you left, you walked over to Yoongi and gave him a quick hug. “Missed you, though. Tell me more about your fishing trip later.”

“You know where to find me,” Yoongi replied with a smirk. “But it was mostly Jin and I sitting on a boat.”

“Sounds riveting,” you teased, waving everyone goodbye as the laughter resumed behind you.

You caught Jungkook’s gaze lingering on you, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it.

The week went by fast, and everyone seemed excited, looking forward to the weekend trip.

After a three-hour drive in the early Saturday morning, you finally arrived at the cabin. The scent of firewood and cedar greeted you like a familiar friend.

The cabin was a perfect blend of modern and rustic charm. It ss a two story retreat with three cozy bedrooms, a spacious kitchen, and an inviting living room. Large windows shows off the breathtaking views of the lake, letting in an abundance of natural light that made the space feel even more open, serene.

The crisp air nipped at your cheeks, but the way the sun glinted off the lake beyond the porch made the chill comfortable.

Slowly, you could feel the tension from work beginning to melt away. This was exactly what you needed.

Everyone naturally fell into their roles without a single word exchanged. Allie and Yoongi immediately took over the kitchen, playing MasterChef, while Jimin and Taehyung turned the living room into an entertainment hub. As for you? Well, you were graciously tasked with giving Jungkook the grand tour—not that you minded… at all.

He trailed behind you, nodding intently as you showed him around. You almost sneered at his attentiveness, the way his eyes widened as if you were explaining something groundbreaking.

So, this is Yoongi’s room,” you said, stopping at the first door by the stairs. “You’ll be sharing with him.” You pushed the door open, staying just outside the hallway, revealing two double-sized beds and a massive window with a stunning view of the lake. Jungkook stepped inside, dropping both his and Yoongi’s bags with a quiet thud.

He scanned the room, his gaze lingering on the view before shifting to the door across the hallway. Before he could ask, you preemptively pointed. “That’s Jimin’s and Tae’s room, and here,” you gestured to the door beside his, “that’s mine and Allie’s. Yoongi insisted on not being next to Jimin and Tae. Gods know what they’re up to at night, they make weird noises.”

Jungkook grunted in acknowledgment, his lips twitching into a faint smirk.

“Oh, by the way, each room has its own bathroom. That’s honestly why we keep coming back here. Aside from the lake and other stuff, of course.” You laughed, your voice echoing slightly in the quiet hallway. Just as you were about to show him the balcony at the end of the hall, someone downstairs shouted your name. Probably Jimin or Tae yelling about the cottage.

“Ah, the cottage by the lake!” you exclaimed, snapping your fingers. “It’s a great spot to chill. Or stargaze. We usually take dinners there or nap. It’s kind of our favorite spot,” you added with a grin, gesturing downstairs.

Jungkook mirrored your excitement with his signature scrunched-nose smile. Before you knew it, Tae and Jimin had joined in, whisking Jungkook away to show him around the cottage and the lake. The three of them looked like overgrown kids finally let loose on a playground.

Back in the kitchen, you joined Yoongi and Allie to finish cooking—though, most of it was already done. You ended up as a taste-tester. By the time everything was ready, the three boys had returned, eager to help set the table.

Lunch was a mix of chaos and calm, the former courtesy of Jimin, Tae, and Allie, while Yoongi’s steady presence, and your quiet nature balanced it all out. Jungkook, as the newest addition to your group, fit in seamlessly. Though he was closest to Yoongi, his easygoing nature made him click with Jimin and Tae almost instantly, their shared humor evident in their playful banter.

By the afternoon, everyone was sprawled in the cottage by the lake.

The cottage was a cozy wooden structure with a slightly weathered exterior, which added to the charm. It is surrounded by large windows , always kept open to let in the fresh breeze and the gentle sound of waves at the lake shore. It was warm and inviting inside, with soft lighting, and a wraparound porch showing panoramic views of the lake.

You and Allie lay on a mat, scrolling through your phones and occasionally showing each other funny memes or cute animal videos. Yoongi was settled in a chair with a glass of whiskey, reading something through his phone with the occasional hum of approval.

The three boys decided to swim in the lake, and you immediately began muttering prayers under your breath, for what, you weren’t entirely sure.

Maybe for divine intervention to stop Jungkook from being so infuriatingly distracting, or perhaps for the strength to keep your jaw from hitting the floor every time he emerged from the water.

He was wearing a black compression shirt that clung to him perfectly, revealing his colorful inked arm here, the outline of a toned torso there, and let’s not even get started on those thighs, perfectly framed by his black basketball shorts. Every time he strolled over to grab a snack from the picnic basket near you, you pretended to be deeply invested in your phone, eyebrows furrowed like you were decoding quantum physics. Anything to mask the heat creeping up your neck and the very inappropriate thoughts threatening to invade your peace and relaxation.

By evening, you all decided to eat dinner in the cottage, the vibe now tinged with the warmth of alcohol and laughter. The moonlight perfectly cascaded over the lake, its silver glow reflecting off the water and illuminating the cottage like a serene painting. The soft glow of lamps inside added to the ambiance, making everything about the place perfect.

Everyone seemed louder now, the alcohol buzz turning the cozy cottage into a chaotic, laughter-filled arena. Tae and Jimin were wrestling on the floor, mimicking exaggerated WWE moves that made Allie’s contagious laugh echo throughout the space. Yoongi, now a little chatty and loud, had taken on the role of their coach, shouting absurd instructions.

“Chokehold, Tae! No, no, Jimin, counter with the sleeper hold!” Yoongi barked, his face uncharacteristically animated as if he was controlling two game characters.

You watched Jungkook laugh at their antics, his bunny teeth flashing as he swatted away Jimin and Tae’s attempts to drag him into their chaos. But when the two of them finally lunged at him, intent on overpowering him, Jungkook barely even flinched. With a fluid, almost effortless motion, he sent both of them sprawling back onto the couch like they weighed nothing more than throw pillows.

Jungkook is strong.

You don’t know what to do with this information.

It wasn’t the strength itself that caught you off guard, you knew Jungkook worked out, but watching him do it with such ease felt almost... dangerous. You wonder how those strong hands gripping your thighs, pinning you against the wall, as he pounds—nope. Nope.

Stop right there you horny bitch.

You gulped down the flavored beer in your hand, the cool liquid doing little to douse the heat crawling up your neck.

“Thirsty much?” Allie teased, nudging you with a smirk as she caught your flustered state.

“I—yeah,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible over the chaos.

Jungkook’s laugh broke through your spiraling thoughts again, and you stole a quick glance at him. Thankfully, he seemed blissfully unaware of the effect he had on you, just being his playful self, swatting Jimin away like an annoying fly.

You feel the heat building in your core becoming more and more unbearable. You press your legs to try to soothe the feeling but it’s clear that you need more. You need a cold splash of water on your face, or better yet, a shower.

Standing abruptly, you excuse yourself for a 'bathroom break.' Your friends barely glance up, offering quick nods before returning to the chaos around them.

Chaos.

This chaos is the perfect cover for Jungkook.

Ever since he met you, there hasn’t been a single day he hasn’t felt like he’s stuck in his own personal hell.

He’s been avoiding looking at you for far too long, for obvious reasons.

The last thing he wants is to make you uncomfortable. Now that he’s close to you and your friends, he’s doing everything to keep it together, to not let anyone, especially Yoongi, catch on. Yoongi’s too observant, and Jungkook’s painfully aware of that. He’s not ready to talk about whatever is going on with him. Or whatever it is he's feeling towards you.

But that moment in the Server Room? He feels a gnawing guilt in his gut, the worry that he made you uncomfortable. He hasn’t heard a word from you about it, though. Didn’t give any hint that something was off. You would’ve said something if you were uncomfortable, right?

You, with your cold, uptight air, focused only on deadlines. You wouldn’t let him get close if you weren’t okay with him. You’d cut him right away if he crossed a line, right?

Was he imagining you there? Maybe you didn’t actually see him. Maybe you weren't actually in the Server Room. He was probably hallucinating in desire. He’s not sure anymore.

But damn, you don’t make it easy.

Earlier, when you were lying on the mat with Ally, your shorts slipping up just enough to flash him a taste of your soft skin, he nearly choked on his drink. And now, sitting across the cottage from you, your short dress riding up as you adjust your position, the soft glow of your skin under the dim light…

Fuck.

He wonders how your skin would feel beneath his hands… how it would feel if he buried himself in you.

Focusing on Jimin and Taehyung provides some distraction, though the temptation to steal another glance at you lingers like a ghost. Thankfully, no one seems sober enough to notice his wandering eyes, or the way his shorts have grown uncomfortably tight.

You, oblivious to the war raging in his head, excuse yourself with a quick smile at Allie before heading to the cabin.

Thank God.

Finally, Jungkook lets out a deep breath and forces himself to join the conversation.

But just as he thinks he’s getting a break, Yoongi’s voice cuts through. “Jungkook, can you grab the portable speaker I told you to bring?”

“Yeah, I’ll get it.” Jungkook stands up without a second thought, almost like it’s automatic when someone older asks, barely processing Yoongi’s other questions as he heads to the cabin.

You step into the bathroom, stripping your clothes as you go. Your damp panties are a clear evidence of your need, and you groan in frustration. With a shaky breath, you turn on the shower, hoping the cold water will wash away the tension building inside you. But as the droplets hit your skin, they do little to distinguish the fire within.

It hasn’t even been a day in this cabin, and Jungkook is already a problem.

Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since you’ve been with anyone, or perhaps the close proximity is making you hyper aware of him. Maybe it’s the memory of him, lost in his own pleasure in the Server Room, fingers working his body while thoughts of you flickered through his mind. The image awakens something in you. Was it just one-time thing? What did he picture you to be while he touched himself?

You pull yourself out of your thoughts, allowing the shower to wash away your lingering filthy desires.

After the quick shower, you step out, wrapping yourself in a towel. But you’re still burning up.

Sighing in frustration, you sit on the bed and brush through your damp hair, but it's still too wet… so you pat it dry. As you glance into the mirror, your reflection catches your eye. The soft, golden light from the lamp casts a warm glow on your skin, drawing your attention, and for a moment you're entranced by your subtle radiance.

You trail your fingers over your arms, your collarbone, down to your chest. Your nipples harden under your touch, and you groan softly. The cabin is alive with distant laughter from the cottage, your friends blissfully oblivious to your desperation.

The craving intensifies, and without thinking, your hands drift lower, over your stomach, to your thighs. Your legs part instinctively, your fingers finding the slick heat between your folds. You press against your clit, your breath hitching at the electric shock that runs through your body.

You imagine Jungkook’s hands there instead. The way he would touch you, soft and rough. The way he would devour you, make you beg for more.

You picture him. His body, his hands, his mouth—all of it.

As your fingers slide inside, you bite your lip, your body shuddering with need. You pump in and out, the friction building, but it’s not enough. You groan in frustration, you need more.

You need something bigger, harder. You need him.

Your eyes lock onto the round brush on the side, its dark wooden handle glistening in the dim light. Something primal snaps within you. Without a second thought, you grab it, your fingers curling around the bristles as you lift it to your lips. The thick, rounded handle presses against your mouth, and you drag your tongue over it, coating it with your spit.

Your heart races as you slide the handle down your body. Lifting yourself off the bed just enough, you position it at your entrance, the anticipation making your thighs tremble. Slowly, deliberately, you lower yourself onto it, gasping as it stretches you open. Your eyes stay locked on the mirror, watching every inch of the handle disappear inside you.

The sight alone makes your body shiver in need, and soon you can’t hold back. Your hips move instinctively, a slow grind that quickly builds into something desperate. You ride it hard, fast, the rhythm of your movements echoing through the creaks in the room. Each thrust draws a whimper from your lips as your imagine Jungkook beneath you, his strong hands gripping your hips, his dark eyes blazing as you grind against him. The way he’d look at you, the way he would sound as he moans your name, needy and breathy, like how he did in the Server Room.

The creak of the bed grows louder, and in your mind, it’s because of him—pounding into you relentlessly, the headboard slamming against the wall, his deep groans mixing with your cries. How he’d ruin you completely, leaving no part of you untouched.

Your hand remains between your legs, circling and flicking your clit in time with the thrusts. The tension builds and builds, each movement pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

And when you finally let go, when your orgasm crashes over you, it’s intense—like a pressure valve bursting open. You cry out his name, repeating it as your body trembles, your vision blurring as you ride out the waves of pleasure.

The moment Jungkook opens the door to his room, right next to yours, his gaze immediately lands on the portable speaker that Yoongi had asked him for, resting casually on the table alongside his other things. He walks toward it absentmindedly, his mind spinning in circles, thoughts tangled and restless.

How could he speak to you alone without feeling like his throat is closing in, without that damn knot of nerves tightening in his chest?

For fuck's sake, he’s not some shy guy. Maybe reserved at first, but shy? No. Not anymore. So why the hell does it feel like your gaze alone could drop him to his knees? He will do whatever you tell him—crawl, bark, beg. Whatever you wanted. No hesita—

"Fuck, Jungkook..." A moan. So soft, so faint, it feels like his mind is playing tricks on him.

And then another moan, but this time incoherent, then a soft creak, followed by the rhythmic sound of a bed moving.

His body goes rigid, every nerve on high alert. You’re in there. Alone. What the hell is going on?

He moves toward the wall separating you from him, pressing his ear against it, desperate to hear more of you.

Another moan, louder this time, long and dripping with need.

His breath stutters, pulse hammering in his ears. The muscles in his jaw tighten, his cock twitching involuntarily. The sound of you—fuck. That’s how you sound? Beautiful. Perfect. Needy. And shit… you’re thinking of him? Fucking yourself, imagining him? He’s losing his mind.

His shorts feel suddenly painfully tight. His hands tremble, fumbling at his waistband, pulling the thing that’s aching to be freed out of both pants and boxers in one desperate motion.

The moans and soft whimpers continue and it’s too much. He grips his cock, the hard length throbbing in his hand as he starts to pump. His strokes grow frantic, desperate, matching the steady pulse of the bed as it rocks with your need. His mind floods with images of you—your fucked out face, wet lips parted in pleasure, the way your body arches, shivering beneath him, trembling with each of his movements. He imagines your nails dragging down his back, marking him, claiming him as his own. The sound of his name on your lips again and again, each breath getting closer to his ear, your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, tighter.

When you cry out his name again, he can’t take it anymore, he bursts. His release hits him hard, his body shuddering as he spills his hot white cum into his hand, and some of it staining the walls.

He stood frozen—breathless, trembling, overwhelmed by the weight of a realization.

You, an actress.

Behind the mask of ambition, beneath the cold exterior of reservation and control, lies a desperate, hidden need.

You had begged for it in silence.

He would make sure you screamed for it out loud.

taglist: @taekritimin123, @vantelover1306, @random-musingsss @likewtaf @jeonmaleficent @almatiarau, @kxthx-b, @lively-potter, @jk-190811, @ilovejungkook9999, @goldietigers294, @dreamyluna18, @va1-erie, @snow-strawberry, @lovieku, @daskewl @jksusawife @daskewl @pp0810 @cherryreadsfics @boyfriendtaekook @michuga @kchukes @ahgasegotarmy116 @michellekosmos @pitchblack0309

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rue-isabelle · 3 months ago

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Author's note: This is a dark fiction

Age is just a number (Part 2)

A week had passed since Yn’s birthday, and it felt like the connection between her and Carlos had only grown stronger. Each day, they texted constantly, messages flowing back and forth from the moment they woke up to the moment they went to bed. The bond between them had deepened faster than either of them had expected.

Yn found herself eagerly checking her phone whenever she got a notification, heart skipping when she saw Carlos’s name on the screen. He had started calling her by little nicknames—mi vida, hermosa, cariño—endearing terms that made her blush every time she read them. It was obvious he was as hooked as she was.

One evening, while she was lounging on her bed with her phone, waiting for the familiar buzz of a message, her phone lit up with a FaceTime call from Carlos.

Her stomach did a little flip. Is this becoming too much? she wondered for a moment. But then, she shrugged it off. She liked him. And he liked her. That was all that mattered.

Answering the call, she smiled when she saw his face.

“Hola, hermosa,” Carlos greeted her, his voice soothing and warm, like a cozy blanket. “How was your day?”

“Hey, Carlos,” Yn replied, grinning. “My day was alright. How was yours?”

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he said, his gaze intense and playful.

Yn’s heart skipped a beat. It still felt surreal, talking to him like this. The face-to-face moments, even through the phone, were something she looked forward to. His brown eyes sparkled with sincerity, his smile making her feel like she was the only person in his world.

“Stop it,” she teased, pretending to roll her eyes. “You're making me blush.”

Carlos laughed softly, leaning closer to the camera. “I’m serious. I can’t stop thinking about you, Yn.”

It wasn’t long before their conversations became longer and more intimate. They spoke about everything—hopes, dreams, pasts, and their shared love for certain foods, movies, and music. Carlos would send her little texts throughout the day, telling her when he was thinking of her, when he saw something that reminded him of their conversation. And sometimes, after their nightly FaceTime calls, they’d fall asleep on the phone together, drifting off to the sound of each other’s breathing.

One night, after a long, comfortable chat about how she had spent her day, Carlos called out to her, “You still awake?”

Yn was laying on her bed, her face lit by the soft glow of her phone screen. “Yeah, I’m still here. What’s up?”

“Can I ask you something?” His voice was soft but serious.

“Sure, anything.” She propped herself up, curiosity piquing.

“Would you… mind if we, like, kept doing this? I mean, the late-night calls. FaceTime. Talking all the time.”

Yn’s heart fluttered. “I don’t mind. I like it. I mean, I look forward to it every night. Do you?”

Carlos’s smile grew. “Yeah, I really do.”

She could hear the quiet sincerity in his voice, and it made her smile in return. “Okay, then. I guess we’re both in this together, huh?”

“Definitely,” he said, his expression softening, the light from his phone casting shadows on his face. “I like this, Yn. I like you.”

The words hung in the air between them, and for a moment, neither of them said anything.

It wasn’t long before their relationship moved into new territory. Carlos started calling her by more personal nicknames—mi reina (my queen), corazón (heart). It was clear he was trying to keep things light, but she loved the attention and the way he made her feel special.

++++++++++++++++++++

Meanwhile, back at the paddock, Carlos’s teammates began to notice a shift. His phone was practically attached to his hand. He texted during breaks between meetings, during lunch, and even in the middle of pre-race preparations. Lando, ever the curious one, was the first to bring it up.

“Carlos, who are you texting all the time?” Lando asked one afternoon, leaning against the wall of the garage with a smirk on his face.

Carlos froze, glancing up quickly. “Uh, no one,” he replied, tapping furiously at his phone screen, trying to hide the message he was typing.

Lando raised an eyebrow. “No one, huh? You’re typing away like it’s the most important thing in the world.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Carlos said, shrugging, trying to act casual. He tucked his phone into his pocket a little too quickly, as if to avoid Lando’s gaze.

“Right, sure,” Lando said, clearly unconvinced. “But you know, you’ve been staring at that screen so much, we might think you’re in a relationship or something.”

Carlos’s heart skipped. His mind raced, trying to come up with a convincing answer. What do I say? What if they find out about Yn?

Before he could respond, Charles, who had overheard the conversation, chimed in, his curiosity piqued. “A relationship? With who?” Charles’s tone was teasing, but his eyes sparkled with genuine interest.

Carlos shifted uncomfortably, his hands fiddling with a wrench, trying to focus on something—anything—that wasn’t the awkward situation unfolding. “It’s not like that. Just a friend,” he said quickly, though his nervousness was evident.

“A friend you talk to all the time?” Lando raised an eyebrow, not buying it for a second. “Come on, you’ve been texting someone every single day. Even after races.”

Carlos’s nerves were starting to show. His palms were sweaty, and he kept looking away. “I’m just… keeping in touch with someone.”

“Who?” Charles asked, narrowing his eyes, intrigued. “You know, it’s fine if you’re seeing someone. We’re your friends.”

Carlos’s heart thudded in his chest. They’re going to find out... They’ll ask about her age.

He quickly changed the subject. “I’ve got a race to focus on. Can we talk about this later?”

But Lando wasn’t done. “Fine, fine. But I’ll be expecting details soon. You can’t hide this forever, mate.”

Carlos let out a nervous chuckle, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He was more than aware that Lando and Charles were getting suspicious. And they weren’t going to stop asking questions until they got answers.

The next day, as Carlos was scrolling through his messages from Yn, he felt the weight of their questions pressing down on him. He loved talking to her, but how would his friends react when they found out she was eighteen? Would they think he was crazy for getting involved with someone so much younger? Would they even approve?

“Carlos?” Lando’s voice cut through his thoughts as he approached the Ferrari driver. “You alright? You’ve been on that phone all morning.”

Carlos quickly pocketed his phone. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, trying to sound convincing. But Lando’s skeptical look made him uneasy.

“Sure,” Lando said, clearly unconvinced. “But if you’re texting someone, at least tell us who they are. We won’t bite.”

Carlos’s stomach churned. He had to be careful. They weren’t ready to know. Not yet.

“Let’s talk later, okay?” Carlos said, forcing a smile. “I’ll tell you everything when the time’s right. But for now, let’s focus on the race. We’re here to win.”

Lando and Charles exchanged glances, but they didn’t press any further, for now. Carlos knew that sooner or later, they’d find out. But for now, he was content to enjoy his time with Yn, even if it meant keeping their connection a secret.

Part 1

#f1 x reader #formula 1 #carlos sainz x reader #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x female reader #formula one

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nathaslosthershit · 5 months ago

Text

Tiny Notes (OP81)

Summary: Oscar was dying, sitting in his first business meeting after signing with Mclaren. Luckily, a pretty girl his age sat right next to him, and she was certainly not in the mood to pay attention to the meeting.

A/n: I think this is one of my most favorite things I’ve written- it was originally the start to my Franco fic (coming tomorrow) but early on I got the idea to change it to Oscar and went from there. Hope you all enjoy 🫶

Neither Oscar nor the eldest Webber daughter wanted to be at the meeting. Actually Miss. Webber herself would argue that there was no reason for her to be there as she didn’t have an official role at Mclaren. But when her grown adult father pouted like a little kid when she said she’d rather eat her own eyes than sit through a 2 hour long meeting with him just because he ‘wants to spend some time with his first mini me’, she stupidly gave in. Now, as she yawned for the 5th time in the past… god, 6 minutes, she could see her dad wearing a shit eating grin while watching her die of boredom.

Even as a father, Mark Webber could be such an asshole.

Oscar didn’t know why he was at this meeting. He knew he had to be there, he had just signed a contract to join Mclaren for the upcoming season, but he didn’t know why they needed him there, especially since he couldn’t understand half the words these businessmen were talking about. Assets? Net Loss? He was just here to drive cars.

Maybe he would have figured out the significance of the meeting, if there hadn’t been a beautiful girl his age sitting right next to him. He had already gotten used to the idea that the Mark Webber was his manager, who currently sat across from him, but now he was expected to pay attention when he was next to an attractive girl?

The meeting might have been boring, but Oscar couldn't say his first day at Mclaren hadn’t been memorable.

“Isn’t that right, Oscar?” The man standing in the front of the room talking asked. Oscar just looked around, hoping he wan’t the Oscar they were talking to, but when everyone stared at him expectantly, he knew he was fucked.

“I’m sorry, I didn-”

“It is alright,” The businessman laughed, “I was just saying we were honored to sign a new driver for our second seat, and that he seems very promising, isn’t that right?”

“Oh! Yes, I am good.” Everyone laughed at that, but Oscar hadn’t meant it as a joke. He hadn’t meant it in a egotistical way, he was just being nice by agreeing with the man speaking.

Luckily, the meeting moved on and Oscar could slouch in his chair and try to disappear and die from embarrassment.

He thought he was out of the clear, that everyone had forgotten about him and he wouldn’t need to speak for the rest of the… hour and a half. This meeting was brutal.

That was until someone nudged Oscar’s leg and he looked up from his hands in his lap to see the girl next to him had pushed the notebook in front of her over.

Have you been paying attention?

Oscar panicked, he hadn’t meant to make his inattention that obvious.

Instead of picking up the pen, he looked at her and nodded his head, hoping his face was calm and convincing her he had been listening

She was not fooled.

She knew who Oscar was, even before he had been introduced. They hadn’t met formally, her dad didn’t want them to meet after she made a joke about how grateful she is to see that Formula 1 has a ‘hot new boy toy’. She was obviously kidding, or at least she tried to convince her dad that she was.

It's okay, I’m not either, she wrote again, pushing the pen towards him hoping he would reply and give her something to do while this meeting dragged on.

I don’t know what they are talking about, Oscar replied, regretting it immediately, not wanting to come across as an idiot to her.

She laughed and Oscar felt his heart flutter at the sound.

She was in the middle of replying that she didn’t know any of it either, when her dad waved his hand at them, grabbing both the young adults’ attention.

‘At least act like you care, and stop writing to each other!’ he mouthed to them.

Oscar gulped and began to sweat a little, but the girl next to him just rolled her eyes and made an indecent gesture. She’s got guts, he had to give her that.

But Mark didn’t do anything but try to conceal his laughter, somehow he wasn’t mad at the girl for disrespecting him.

She began to pick up the pen when Oscar grabbed her hand to stop her, mouthing ‘he said we can’t’

He didn’t want his manager getting mad at him.

Meanwhile Mark Webber’s eldest daughter loved to annoy her dad, but she knew he loved it too.

“He didn’t say anything about tic-tac-toe” she whispered softly into Oscar’s ear, giving him goosebumps and sending a chill down his spine. That shouldn’t have affected him as much as it did.

Get a grip, Piastri.

So they played tic-tac-toe, and other stupid games to pass the time, until it was finally the moment they were all dismissed from the meeting.

Both the young adults actually groaned when they realized the meeting was over.

Oscar didn’t get time to say anything to the girl as his teammate, Lando Norris, came up to have a quick chat. He liked Lando, he really did, but his timing was terrible.

Luckily, the brit could see Oscar was anxious to leave, and he could see who was making him anxious.

“Ohhhhhh, interesting choice, Piastri. Out of everyone you set your eyes on her? Good luck with that, mate.” Lando laughed as he patted Oscar on the back.

What the hell did he mean by that?

She had been waiting for her dad to grab something from his office, but she was also kind of possibly waiting for Oscar to come out of the room. When she looked over and saw Lando was the reason he was being held up, she scoffed.

Leave it to Norris to cockblock her.

She turned around, not wanting to get caught staring, and impatiently tapped her foot as she waited for her dad to come back. No sooner than she saw him walking as slowly as he could down the hallway, which he was doing because he saw how impatient she was, she got a tap on her shoulder.

“I just- wanted to say thanks for keeping me sane during the meeting.” Oscar said. “Oh uh, I’m Oscar, I'll be driving for the team next year.” He said awkwardly as he stuck his hand out.

Was it rude to imply she didn’t know who he was, or rude to assume she did?

“I know who you are, Oscar.” She laughed, shaking his hand. “I probably know more about you than 99% of that room.”

That confused him. “Can I at least get your name the-”

“Oscar, what was rule number one when I became your manager?” Mark Webber said, scaring the two of them as he snuck up behind the girl.

Shit, “Uh, don’t bring up Multi 21,” he replied, realizing he had just broken that rule by bringing it up.

The girl giggled at that, and Oscar felt his heart stop. He also felt a blush creep on his face, one that Mark too saw and by his frown, Oscar could tell he disapproved.

“No- well yes, but the other big rule.”

“If I meet any of you or other racing drivers’ daughters, I am not allowed to flirt or befriend or speak or look or breathe near any of them.” Oscar didn’t understand why that needed to be a rule but he thought fighting Mark on it wouldn’t go well.

“Damn, two rules broken on your first day, Piastri?” The girl laughed.

“What?” Was all he replied. Then he connected the dots. The glares and looks shared between the girl and Mark, her being able to flip him off and him not getting offended by it, the fact they walked in together.

Mark and his eldest daughter could see as Oscar reached his conclusion.

“Fuck I’m- I didn’t know that- Well you see-” There was no getting out of this.

Thankfully, Mark just laughed, “it’s alright buddy, just never speak to her ever again.” Oscar shuddered at the way his manager’s expression grew darker at the end of his sentence.

The two Webbers walked away from the young driver, arguing or joking with each other, Oscar couldn’t tell, when a paper slipped out of the girl’s hand.

Oscar picked it up and went to tell her she had dropped it, when he saw what was written on it.

Don’t listen to him, he is an overprotective ass ;)

How had she known ahead of time that her Dad would disapprove? Before he could question it further, he flipped the note to see her number was written on the back.

Thank god he was forced to be at that useless meeting.

#formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #oscar piastri x reader #f1 x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #lando norris x reader #lando x reader

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marauder-misprint · 25 days ago

Note

I loved Nail polish & cologne, you are such an amazing writer! It's been so long since I read a decent version of Moony in a fic. You made me incredibly happy today 🫣

Sorry if it's rude to ask, any chance you could make a sequel?

Omg, I don't find it rude at all to ask for sequels/more parts to any of my writing! It's one of the highest compliments in my opinion! So, thank you 🥰

Also tagging everyone who asked for a part 2 in the replies/comments ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

Fresh parchment & perfume

Remus Lupin x reader

part one

2.3k words

cw: fluff, mutual pining, Y/N, angst if you squint

You want to murder Remus Lupin.

Okay, not really. But you’re frustrated that he’s taken away one of your simple daily joys: staring at him during class. You’ve been caught staring at him multiple times now and you swear there have been times where he was looking at you first. This never happened before so why is it happening now?

You come to a conclusion, but you don’t like it. It’s the only thing that makes sense though.

“Lily!” you yell as you enter your dorm and slam the door behind you. “What did you say?”

She looks at you like a deer caught in headlights.

“About what? To who? When?” she asks, preparing her defense.

“About what I smelled in the Amortentia!”

“You never told me what you smelled,” she says, furrowing her brow. “I mean, I can assume, but you never actually told me. And who would I have told?”

“Oh, I don’t know, James, maybe?”

She laughs. “Potter?” Then she looked down at her hands. “I mean, yeah, we’ve talked a little bit and he doesn’t seem… as bad? But we don’t talk about you.”

“Oh.” Your voice is small. “Never mind then.”

You collapse on your bed and Lily is sitting at the foot of it within seconds.

“What gave you the idea that I’ve told Potter about your feelings for a certain quiet prefect?” she asks.

You lift your head to glare at her. You’re not in the mood.

“He’s been looking at me…” you mumble, which causes Lily to fall into a fit of laughter. “Lily!”

“I-I… I’m sorry, but… that’s ridiculous and you know it,” she manages to say in between her laughs. “He’s been looking at you?”

“Yes,” you say firmly. “He’s never looked at me this much before”

You pause as you hide your face in your hands.

“He must know and he’s trying to figure out how to tell me that he doesn’t feel the same way.”

“Or…”

“Or what?”

“Or he’s working up the courage to talk to you?” Lily offers.

“He can talk to me just fine. We’ve studied before. Played Summoner’s Court. Wizards’ chess. We talk.”

“Okay, yes, you talk. But have you tried flirting with him?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “No… But then why is he just staring at me and not talking to me?”

“Why have you been staring at him and not flirting with him?” she shoots your question back at you.

“I don’t need your logic right now,” you groan, rolling over to shove your face into your pillow.

---

“Has she always stared at me this much?” Remus asks Sirius nervously as they lounge in their dorm.

James was at quidditch practice and Peter had solo detention.

“Can’t say I’ve paid much attention to her, Moony. Might be a better question for Prongs.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because Y/N’s always with Evans? And he stares at her quite often. Come on, mate. Two plus two.” Sirius gives his friend a sympathetic look. “Have you talked to her at all since?”

Remus doesn’t answer, letting the silence answer for him. No, he hadn’t. The amount of times he’s caught you staring at him over the past two days is startling. Each time, you would turn red and look away almost immediately. He hasn’t been able to focus as much in classes, not when he knows you might be looking at him, not when Sirius thinks he might actually have a chance with you.

“Have you… oh, I don’t know, considered talking to her?”

“Padfoot,” Remus says tiredly.

“You can’t ask a girl out without words.”

“You would know.” It comes out more as a sigh.

Remus doesn’t want to admit it, but yes, out of the Marauders, Sirius had the most experience with girls. But whether his “expertise” could actually be trusted was up in the air. He never stayed with a girl for too long and he wasn’t sure if it was his choice or a result of his actions.

“Yes, I would know. And if she has been staring at you as much as you claim, even if just these past few days, ask. her. out.”

“What if she’s just been zoning out? You know, when you stare but you’re not really looking?”

“She’s just been zoned out in your direction multiple times a day?”

“Yes.”

Remus knows it sounds ridiculous, and that’s only enforced when Sirius chuckles from the window where he’s smoking. Then he’s standing up and offering Remus one.

“Stop being so dense,” he says. “And so hard on yourself. I know what that voice in your head is saying.”

Remus takes the cigarette and follows Sirius back to the window.

“And what is it saying?”

“That you’re not worthy of love or attraction, that you’re not attractive. So how could lovely Y/N actually like you when you’re, well, you.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Remus says dryly before taking a drag.

“Oi, not saying any of that’s true.”

Remus rolls his eyes.

“Ask. her. out. And you’ll see that you’re wrong.”

The two boys sit on the window ledge for a while, each going through a few cigarettes. Silence fills the room. Sirius is more than content to just let his brain empty while Remus’s mind is running circles around itself.

Was he imagining the blush when he caught you staring? Were you staring because you liked him? Were you just staring into the distance and turning red because you realized you were staring at a person? How often did you stare at him? Was it because of that Potions lesson? What if you were staring near him and not actually at him? Was he being narcissistic to think you looked at him? He sat by Peter, James and Sirius in every class. It was very logical to think that you were staring at one of them.

“Shit,” Remus mutters.

“What?” Sirius’ voice sounds far away despite being right next to him.

“She’s been staring at you.”

Sirius laughs.

“No, Pads, think about it. You’ve been next to me every time I’ve caught her staring. It makes so much sense!”

“Moony. You’re delusional,” Sirius says.

James enters the dorm. Sirius’ eyes light up.

“Prongs, help me out here!” Sirius calls as James throws his bag down on his bed.

“Yeah?”

“Y/N. Has she been staring at me or Moony in class?”

“I’m not getting in between you two if you’re fighting over a girl,” James says, laying down on the floor near the window.

“Not fighting over a girl,” Remus says, giving Sirius an annoyed look. “Padfoot just figures you’d know who she stares at, if she’s staring at all, since you, you know, stare at Lily.”

“I do not!” James exclaims as he sits up rapidly.

Sirius laughs, “She’s not in here and we know you do. Don’t lie.” He pauses for a moment to light a new cigarette. “For Moony’s sake, does Y/N stare at him during class?”

James slowly lays back down while giving Sirius a wary look.

“I swear, if I get hexed for answering…”

“Not going to hex you!” Sirius says.

“She stares at Moony. A lot. Think she pays more attention to him than lessons.”

“So she’s gone for you!” Sirius barks, clapping a hand on Remus’ knee and causing him to grimace. “Fucking told you!”

---

You make a serious effort to not look in Remus’ direction during classes. It kills you. It’s been your habit for years and you’re quitting cold turkey. You’re both grateful and mortified that Remus hasn’t called you out for it; he can’t call you out for it if he hasn’t talked to you.

It doesn’t help that Lily has started gently nudging you every time Remus enters a room or sits remotely near you. She doesn’t have to say anything for you to know what she’s thinking.

“You’re the first thing he looks at when he enters a room,” she whispers during Transfiguration.

“Or he’s looking for the Marauders,” you retort just as quietly.

“Yeah, right,” she says sarcastically.

Professor McGonagall flashes a harsh look in your direction and the two of you fall silent. You’re thankful that she didn’t call you out, or worse, ask you to share what you were talking about with the class. That would have been mortifying.

You’ve been successful in your mission to not stare at Remus so far, despite the insatiable urge to do so pulling at your eyes. You swear, the man is magnetic. It doesn’t help that Lily has suddenly become relentless in her nudging and subtle poking.

“What?” you hiss, looking down at your notes.

“He keeps looking this way.”

You roll your eyes and turn your attention back to McGonagall. While Lily’s words stoked the flame of hope in your heart, you didn’t need to be losing house points for not paying attention.

When class ended, Lily put her things away at record speed.

“Potter! Wait up!” she calls, leaving you behind.

You frown as you briefly watch her go. You usually walked to your next class together. You knew that she smelled something like James in the Amortentia and that had fueled her new friendship with him. And as much as you liked seeing your friend this happy, you didn’t like that it meant walking to your classes alone.

Except when you exit the classroom, you aren't alone. Remus is right at your side. You walk in silence for a few paces. It’s not uncomfortable but it’s charged. Despite the other students in the corridor with you, you swear you can hear every step you take. It doesn’t help that you can feel your heart beating in your throat.

“How’ve you been?” you ask. You keep your face straight, knowing that if you look at Remus, you’ll likely trip, fall and embarrass yourself.

“Oh… I’ve been relatively good.” He pauses momentarily. “James hasn’t shut up about what he smelled in the Amortentia.”

You try not to laugh. “Lily’s not been too shy about it either. I think she’ll say yes sooner or later.”

Remus gestures ahead of you to where the two are. “Seems like it.”

Silence falls between you again. You were used to being with Remus in the quiet; that’s how it usually was when you studied in the library together. Except that was different. When you studied, you had your books in front of you and you were both scribbling away, scrawling on parchment until your inkwells ran out.

“Did you really smell the library in the Amortentia?” you ask, breaching the silence. You’re not really sure what made you ask, but something inside of you needed to know.

“Erm, yeah. Yeah, I did,” he answers. He’s not looking at you in the same way you’re not looking at him, meaning you’re both trying to gauge the other’s expression in your peripheral vision. “What did you smell? You got pretty quiet after smelling the potion.”

“Oh, um, I smelled… nail polish, chocolate, parchment,” you listed off with a glaring omission.

Remus let out a breath that he wasn’t aware he was holding. He didn’t want to admit that he was disappointed in your answer. He was hoping you had smelled something more obviously him. It didn’t register in his brain that he was the chocolate and parchment you smelled.

“That all?” he asks hesitantly.

“Was the library all you smelled?” you retorted defensively.

You saw his features tense.

“Was it?” you repeated, more gentle this time, like talking to a scared child.

“It was the library. Everything that encompasses my usual visits,” he starts to say as he turns to look at you. “The books, fresh parchment, ink, your perfume.”

You stop walking. Remus notices immediately, having been watching you and your expression. His heart is racing in his chest. He can’t tell if your reaction is good or bad, based on your wide eyes and sharp intake. You swallow, looking up at the taller, scarred boy next to you.

“My… perfume? You smelled me?” you ask. “You smelled me in the Amortentia?”

Remus flushes with embarrassment. He feels like he should’ve known better than to trust Sirius on this. He was a self-proclaimed ladies’ man afterall.

Remus nods. He doesn’t know if he trusts his voice, but then he starts rambling.

“I thought… Sirius said you couldn’t look away from me so he said I had a chance, but obviously, if you don’t feel the same way… I don’t want this to change anything between us. I don’t want it to be awkward. I really value our friendship. I’m so sorry if I just ruined it, but I like you. I really do. I have for a while, but I’ll try to stop if it makes you uncomfort-”

“Remus,” you say firmly as you grab his arm.

He stops talking immediately. His eyes search yours for an answer that he realizes he probably cut off.

“What do you always carry with you and share with me in the library?” you ask, your voice just as firm.

“Chocolate?” His brows bunch in confusion.

“And what you always, always have a fresh roll of?”

“Parchment?”

“And… I may have smelled one more thing. In the Amortentia.” You took a breath. “Your cologne.”

“My cologne?” he echoes like how you had repeated him earlier.

You wait for him to connect the dots, pressing your lips together.

“So you smelled chocolate, parchment and my cologne?”

“Don’t forget nail polish.”

He chuckles. He takes your hand that’s on his arm and holds it in his own.

“What you’re saying is that I do have a chance? That Sirius was right?”

“Sirius was right,” you laugh.

“In that case, would you like to come with me to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

“I would love to come to Hogsmeade with you, Remus,” you answered with a smile.

Maybe Sirius does know a thing or two about girls, Remus thinks as he walks with you to your next class.

Tags: @oursweetmoony, @pinkdaiisies, @iloveremmy, @3sriracha, @auntjezzy

#marauders #marauders fic #marauder-misprint #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin

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stylesparker · 2 years ago

Text

closer than friends

PAIRING: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5.3k

WARNINGS: season 1/2 era, friends to lovers, sweet love confession, Dean being Sam’s wingman

A/N: my first supernatural fic is finally here!!! It’s been a long while since I’ve had the motivation to write, and I’m so glad I was able to get this out and share it. Please reblog if you enjoy!! <33

"How many times are you gonna shift in your goddamn seat, woman, jesus christ." Dean glances over at you from the wheel for the fourth time, watching you rub your eyes and knock your shoulder into the side of the Impala's door again.

"It's not my fault the passenger seat isn't made for comfortable napping, Dean."

You hear Sam chuckle from over your shoulder; this makes you look back to find him comfortably nestled into the corner of the backseat with his sweatshirt tucked in the crook of his neck so he can lean against his door without discomfort.

You huff, "I don't want a word from you."

"Says the girl who called shotgun and fought for the front seat all morning."

"What did I just say?"

Dean rolls his eyes, "Okay, knock it off. We're finding a place to sleep tonight."

While Dean focuses back onto driving, you try your hardest to find a suitable position that would allow you to sleep for awhile up until you guys made it to whatever hotel you were staying in for the night. You'd like to blame the Impala for your sleep deprivation, but you've slept in it before just fine, so you know the car isn't the problem. Even though you're going on just over 36 hours of no sleep, your mind won't shut off. The events of the case you were working on for the past couple of days play like a movie in your head, reminding you of how it ended over and over again.

You swallow quite harshly, and shift in your seat again. Something soft smacks the back of your head and you whip around to see what Sam's hit you with, but it's just his sweatshirt, and he's already leaning against the side of the car like he was before, almost as if he hadn't moved at all.

You mumble out a quiet "thank you," and you don't bother to even listen for any sort of reply before you're stuffing his sweatshirt underneath your head and forcing yourself to go to sleep. It's not long before you hear Sam's soft breathing from the backseat signifying that the boy has finally fallen asleep himself. You almost gave up until you saw Dean turn down his music just a little, side-eyeing you as he looked between you and the road.

"Is that better?" He asks.

"It was fine before."

"I'll keep it like this anyway."

You hum in response, and he goes back to humming his own tune to follow along with the music. With Sam's soft breathing in the back and Dean's low humming, you finally find something else other than your mind to focus on, which ultimately leads to your eyes lulling shut and you drifting off to sleep.

When your eyes start to peel back open again, the car is stopped and there's light rain patter on the wind shield. You lift your head causing Sam's sweatshirt to lightly fall into your lap, and at the same time the door opens revealing a slightly wet Sam waiting for you.

"C'mon, we're here."

"Slow your roll, Sammy, I just woke up." Your head lolls back onto the seat, and you let your eyes close once again, forgetting about Sam who's standing in the rain waiting for you to get out.

"Alright, let's go."

You shiver and grumble a slight protest as you feel his cold hands slip underneath your body to grab you and pick you out of the Impala. He knocks the door shut as he cradles you close to his chest as to not drop you, and as he locks the car. Your ear stays smushed against his front as he carries you, allowing you to feel the soft pitter patter of his heart beating in his chest.

"What time is it?" You mumble sleepily.

"Close to ten."

"That's it?"

"Yeah." You nod, not replying this time so you can nod back off in his arms. You're back to being fast asleep once again by the time Sam reaches the room Dean picked out for you, and he tries tucking you into your bed as gently as possible so he doesn't accidentally wake you up. In the short process you only mutter something unintelligible to Sam's ears as he finishes pulling the blankets up, so he ignores it and kisses you on the forehead, bidding you a good night before he retreats back to the room he's sharing with Dean for the night.

It's much later when you're rudely roused from sleep by a nightmare; you sit up straight in the bed with your hands by your sides clawing at the sheets, your eyes wide and unfocused, much too scared to figure out where you are or how you've gotten there. It takes a second to realize you're in a motel room, and now, the sheets that were once neatly laid over your body are haphazardly thrown towards the end of the bed, practically hanging off and hitting the floor. You take a shaky deep breath in and out, taking your trembling hand and placing it over your heart in an attempt to regulate it.

After a couple minutes your breathing is sort of back to normal, but your shakiness hasn't stopped. At that point, you're aware you won't be falling asleep again anytime soon, so you sit up further and throw your legs off the bed to go and find something to busy yourself with. In the corner there's a chair that you notice has your bag on top of it, and there's a small table next to it with a notepad. Your curiosity pulls you towards it, and when your feet reach the table, you're able to make out Sam's sloppy handwriting.

If you need us. - S

Next to the writing is a key card, which you can obviously assume is the one to their room. You pick it up and turn it over a few times, debating on whether this dream was something worth needing them for. In your head, needing was the same thing as bothering and it was never used as a positive term. But you know that if you spend another minute in that bed you might actually start crying and drive yourself crazy over the dream, so you take your chances and hope one of the boys will let you sleep in their bed or at least talk to you for awhile and get your mind off of it.

When you open the door and step outside, you become acutely aware of the cold air on your arms and legs rather quickly, and you begin to wish you were wearing a sweatshirt instead of one of Sam's shirts and a pair of shorts. The chill encapsulates you, making you hasten your step towards the room down the hall with the number specified on the key card. Once you make it to the room, you're pushing yourself up on your tip toes because, despite your sock covered feet, the ground is still horridly cold and you're hoping to get off it as soon as possible. Although, you find yourself unable to let yourself in once you find yourself standing in front of the door. You give it a good five minutes before you work up the nerve to finally pat the key card on the handle to allow yourself in the room. Once you've pushed open the door a crack, you're able to perceive a bed-side lamp turned on, and Sam leaning against his headboard next to it.

His head snaps up from his book at the sound of the door being pushed open, but he relaxes when he realizes it's you.

"Hey," he says softly. He's in the brown sweatshirt you were passing back and forth earlier, and he's weirdly still in a pair of jeans, but at this point you're used to seeing Sam and Dean wearing their jeans to bed.

"Hi," you respond back, even softer.

Sam likes to think he's pretty good at perceiving your body language, especially after knowing you for so long; so when he notices your trembling hands, your flushed cheeks, and your frantic eyes, he knows that you've had a nightmare.

He's not gonna ask why you're there since he knows why, so he only pats the side of the bed next to him and asks, "You wanna' join me?"

You're quick to nod your head and cross the room to join him, and it's only then when you're on the bed that you notice Dean isn't in the other one.

"Where's Dean?"

"Oh, he left to drive around. He's probably at a bar, or sleeping in the car somewhere." He says casually.

You hum, "Couldn't sleep?"

"Neither of us really could. He asked if I wanted to come with, but I didn't really feel like leavin'." Sam left out the fact he didn't want to leave you here alone, since he doesn't like leaving you anywhere by yourself. Dean doesn't either, but he doesn't get fussy over it like Sam sometimes does when you fight them on it.

"I can't either," you say quietly.

With some of your hair dangling in your face and your flushed cheeks, you look sort of delicate in Sam's eyes. You look sad, but when you look at him you have a gentle smile covering your lips, and when you look away your mouth curves downward again, only slightly, to where you might think he won't notice, but he does.

Sam's always stayed observant of you, even when you think you're the one who takes all the mental notes of him.

He reaches out, lifting the hand closest to you and letting his palm rest gently on top of your shoulder.

"You okay?" He almost looks like a puppy when he asks, and it's pitiful. For you mostly because he's cute, but why should he look like that when you feel like you're gonna start crying any minute.

You don't even want to answer because if your mouth opens you're either gonna say you're fine, or words describing the terrors you experienced in your sleep are going to come pouring out of your mouth and you won't be able to stop until you're a sobbing, pitiful mess and you could not handle being that way in front of Sam.

You couldn't.

But looking at him looking at you so fondly, it's like he's trying to tell you he'll comfort you the only way he knows how and he's gonna fix all your problems with a touch or two alone. Like the way he wants to hold you will melt all your fears into nothing and the way he wants to kiss you will make you forget any of it even happened. His eyes speak more than words could express in this moment and you don't even care if you seem desperate, or needy, or anything really. You allow yourself to fall forward into his awaiting arms, and when your head meets his chest, you can't help the first sob that escapes your lips.

You sound so tired, and the way that you're crying so harshly makes him feel like you're tearing yourself apart inside, like each breath is ripping off another piece of your heart.

"Honey..." he breathes out gently, wrapping his one arm around your neck and his other only comes up about half way so he can hold your head close to him under his chin. You've fallen completely into his side, your head against his chest and one leg practically in his lap, but he doesn't seem mind. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

You consider it for a moment; you probably would feel better opening up to him about the case you just worked, considering he was also there and knows how hard it was, but you also know opening up to Sam makes you feel close to him. Intimate almost. You’ve never been one to share your thoughts or feelings generously, and you think that must have just came with the messed up childhood, since Sam and Dean are pretty much the same way. But as the years went on, the boys got much better at opening up to you than you did them. Although, if there was anyone that could get you to talk, it was Sam.

Today, you decided, would not be one of those days.

You shake your head, "I'm okay, I'm okay. I'll be fine." You know by his soft sigh that he doesn't believe you, but luckily he doesn't push it. "Can we just stay like this for a little while?" You whisper shyly, despite knowing he wouldn't say no to you.

"Yeah," he strokes your hair softly, "Yeah, of course."

You lay comfortably against him as he slowly but surely calms you down, holding your head and rubbing your arm gently as you let out sad little sniffles. Once you've relaxed, you murmur something into his chest that he thinks might have been a thank you, but before he can ask you've already fallen asleep.

About an hour later after the two of you have fallen asleep, Dean unlocks the door and enters the room slightly shitfaced but more so tired. He freshens up in the bathroom so he doesn't wake up feeling even worse in a couple of hours, and he doesn't even notice you're there until he's trudging out of it, eyes wide and feet frozen to the floor as he takes in the image of you and Sam cuddled up to each other in Sam's bed. He manages to put his fist against his mouth just in time to cover up a surprised laugh, taking in the sight of his little brother in the same bed as their best friend.

"This is gold." Dean smiles mischievously, pulling his phone out of his pocket to capture the moment. "Just friends my ass." He mutters.

...

"Dean, if I have to hear you say that girl's name again one more time, I'm going to chop your head off. I don't care how good she was at su-"

"Alright, alright, let's quiet down shall' we?" Sam pats your shoulder and looks around the cafe to see if anyone heard you bickering with Dean about last night's one night stand. Dean laughs loudly as he lets himself into the corner booth that the three of you chose while you were walking in.

"What, you nervous someone's gonna hear us, Sammy?"

"It's 8 in the morning, Dean. Let's be a little respectful."

You hide your giggle, "Yeah, Dean."

Dean rolls his eyes, glancing at Sam as he ever so casually throws his arm over the back of the seat behind you, looking at the side of your face to see if you've taken notice. You're picking your nail, completely oblivious. He almost rolls his eyes again.

"Well," Dean straightens up, "Let's see what we have on the menu today."

"Don't act like you're not going to get the same exact thing you get every day," you comment, not even looking up from your nail.

"What's with the attitude, sweetheart? Didn't sleep well?" Sam's smile quickly turns to an annoyed frown as he makes eye contact with Dean, silently sending him daggers to keep his mouth shut.

You squint your eyes at him and open your mouth to come back with a retort, but the waitress walks up before you get the chance to say anything.

"Are y'all ready yet, or would you like a few minutes?" She asks kindly.

"Can we have a couple more minutes?" You say, since the three of you haven't even taken a look at the menu yet. She nods and retreats, leaving you alone with the boys once again. Sam and Dean grab their menus and you quickly realize there isn't a third, so you go to call the waitress back, but Sam nudges you just before you do.

"It's fine, just share mine." You huddle close next to him, resting your chin on your hand as you survey the food options as Sam does the same. He's so close his hair just so slightly grazes the skin of your cheek. Dean raises his eyebrows when he notices Sam's leg has started bouncing and he covers up his laugh with a cough just as he did last night, busying himself and acting clueless as the two of you look up at him.

"You alright?" You ask jokingly.

"Yup, totally fine. You guys ready yet?"

"Yep. How about you, Sammy?" He clears his throat and doesn't say anything, but he nods his head in response, which has you eyeing him weirdly. You choose to ignore it and let Sam order for you while you kick Dean under the table to stop being flirty with the nice waitress, and he only winks at you before he gives his order too.

When the waitress departs from your table, Dean lets his eyes follow her just for a second before he's turning back to the two of you, and he gets this questioning look on his face when he realizes the two of you are blankly glaring at him with the same narrowed eyes.

"What," he throws his hands up in defense, "I can't admire a good-looking woman?"

You and Sam glance at each other with a knowing glance right before you look back at Dean and say, "What's with you today? Why are you acting so..."

"Strange." Sam says. He leans forward on the table, "Why do you look like you're up to something?"

"Huh? Me?" Dean points to himself, "I'm not up to anything. I'm just being plain old me."

"Yeah, sure." You laugh him off and start a side conversation with Sam that has the two of you forgetting about Dean for the moment. Dean always knew Sam liked you; it's so obvious, at least to him. But he wishes he'd realized before how clearly obvious you are too. He doesn't know if he wants to throw up or throw a party.

...

A couple weeks later

"One or two rooms?" The lady asks.

"One please." Dean replies, handing the lady one of his debit cards that probably had some weird made up name on it. When Dean turns around with his debit card and the key in hand, you and Sam are looking at him weird like a couple of toddlers.

"Really? One room? Since when have we done that?" You questioned.

"Since you and Sammy boy over here started sharing a bed every night. I'm not gonna pay for two rooms when you don't use yours." Dean quickly catches on to how he's embarrassed the two of you so he adds, "and besides, I'd rather you stick with us anyway. Keep the team together." He pats your shoulder with a smirk and leaves the two of you behind. Sam spares a glance at your face and he's a bit surprised to find that you're just as taken aback as he is, but you don't say anything and you follow Dean rather quickly.

The three of you head back to the Impala to grab your bags before heading to the room, and when you go to take out yours, Sam slides in front of you and grabs his in one hand, and yours in the other.

"Sam." You say impassively.

"Yeah?"

"I am fully capable of grabbing my own bag."

"Oh I know. I'm just getting a quick work-out, since you know, your bag is like 50 pounds from all the clothes you carry.

"It is not, I barely bring anything with me!"

"You might be right, but if I may ask, how many of the shirts in here are actually mine?"

You pretend to think, "Um, probably like two. Maybe three."

A wide grin spreads across his face as he laughs at you, "Now you're lying! Half my wardrobe is in here!" Sam pushes the cracked door open with his behind and holds it open for you, standing to the side with his foot on the door. Dean's bag is at the end of his bed and he's already crashed on the bed nearest to the door.

"Hey, it's not my fault your clothes are more comfortable than mine! I don't know who decided that men deserve softer clothes."

"Well, in that case," he dropped the bags, "be my guest."

"Oh, how sweet. I like how you think you had any choice in the matter."

"Haha, very funny. Do you want the first shower?"

"You can take it, I had it the other night. Besides, I need to figure out which shirt I'm stealing tonight. I was thinking of the blue one, or actually, maybe the green-"

"Oh my god, I'm leaving." He rolls his eyes, but you can see the amused smirk on his face as he heads to the bathroom, and gently closes the door behind him. You giggle to yourself as you pull out his blue shirt from your bag and a pair of pants since it's a bit chillier tonight.

He's out of the shower pretty quick, and when he emerges from the steamy bathroom, you're next to Dean's bed whacking him repeatedly with a pillow.

"I told you to stop snoring!" You yell at him.

"Hmph, stop hitting me, crazy woman!" He mumbles sleepily at you. You stop hitting him when you notice Sam watching you, and he wants to laugh at how cute you look, like some kid who's got caught doing something they're not supposed to.

"What, he was bothering me."

He smiles, "I don't doubt it."

He doesn't realize that you froze mainly because he came out in a pair of sweats and no shirt, with his hair dripping wet and a towel around his shoulders. Dean peaks his eyes open and grumbles when he notices the way you're looking at him. You hear Dean, which breaks you out of your temporary trance.

You drop the pillow and give him a sheepish look, "I'm gonna- I'll take my shower now." You nod, promptly leaving the room after you grab the clothes you had set out on your bed. Sam watches you leave, more than a bit confused might he add, suspicious of the way your mood had suddenly changed. Once he hears the water running and the curtain pull back signifying you're in the shower, and can no longer hear him, he settles on the bed and asks Dean a question.

"What happened?"

"You happened, you idiot."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard what I said. I'm sick and tired of watching you two pine after the other when you clearly love each other, so for gods sake- no, my sake, tell the girl you love her and get on with it!"

Sam's face is hysterical, and if Dean weren't so tired right now he'd be laughing, but he's exhausted in more ways than one, so all he can do is shut is eyes and hope his little brother makes a move on the girl who's been his practically since the day they met her.

"D-Dean... I can't just-"

"Yes you can, and you will." Dean finalizes. "At this point I'll just do it for you. It's unbearable." Sam huffs loudly, flopping back onto the bed.

He lays there and stares at the ceiling for awhile until he hears his brother's soft snores coming from the other side of the room; when he sits up and runs a hand through his hair, he hears the shower turn off and your light humming become more audible.

He takes a final deep breath just as you walk out of the bathroom with your hair combed nicely and your warm pajamas, perfectly ready for bed. Not exactly ready for your best friend to confess his undying love for you. He wants to crumble at the sight of your smile.

"You okay?" You ask gently. "You look a little pale."

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," he waves you off, "When am I not fine?"

You laugh softly, "Do you want me to answer that?"

"Actually no." He gives a soft laugh of his own before his eyes land on his brother again, thinking over the words that were spoken to him just minutes prior to you walking out of that door. You were so near, so close to their conversation, and you have no idea. He can't help but think that maybe you'll be taken aback, shocked beyond belief, or traumatized enough to the point you yell at him and leave him for good. Or, maybe... possibly... there's a small chance you do feel the way that Dean says you feel, and in just a few moments the entirety of your relationship will change. Well, no matter what it'll change.

He just hopes it's what he feels it might be.

Sam's face snaps up to you quickly, like he's just had a sudden thought, and his eyes hold yours for a beat too long before he asks, "Can we go outside for a second?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure." He gets up and takes long strides towards the door, you just a foot behind. He opens it and leaves it open for you to slide through, and he's standing there with his hands in his pockets facing away from you. You give him a questioning glance, but he doesn't see it.

"You have the key?" You query.

"Um..." he pulls out the card in his hand to make sure and you giggle at him, but he just nods, putting it back in his pocket, gulping strangely, "Yeah, I got it."

"Okay." You whisper softly, closing the door quietly behind you. You're silent for a moment, giving him a second to see if he'd speak first, but he doesn't. "You okay, Sammy?"

"I'm in love with you."

Not even a beat later, those words exit his mouth, and everything changes. The atmosphere that was once light, comfortable, and knowing, has shifted to one of fearful eyes, harsh breaths and unspeakable tension. His hands, once unafraid to grab hold of you, now remain glued to his side, flexing and itching to reach forward and touch your skin. His heart is beating so fast he feels like it's getting torn out; each individual piece of it being sliced and picked carefully from his chest as if he were on an operating table.

He can't tell if the look on your face is fear or shock. Probably both. But he doesn't know if it's good or bad and it's scaring him.

"Say something." He breathes out, with a drop of desperation.

Your mouth, hung open for a brief amount of time, now closes, and you gulp just like he did before he uttered those five little words.

"What did you say?" you murmur, looking like you just got pulled from space.

He repeats himself. "I'm in love with you."

You don't say anything again, but he continues.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to say that." He interrupts himself with a laugh, a scared, almost detached sounding laugh, but one nonetheless. You stare at him as he goes on. "For weeks I've had these moments where I look at you and all I can think about is telling you how I feel, but then some part of me ruins it and then I forget about it until you do something again that makes me want to say it again."

"Which, I swear is every two seconds because all you have to do is look at me with those eyes and all I want to do is grab your face and tell you how much I love you, how much you mean to me and how I can't stand sleeping next to you one more night without you knowing that I can't sleep without you anymore. I need you by my side, tucking your head under mine. It's not that I can't because I could, but I don't ever want to again. I could live a hundred lifetimes, all of them with you in them, but if you weren't mine, if you were someone else's, I wouldn't dare live another."

When he notices the tear streaking down your face, he finally reaches forward to hold your cheek in the palm of his hand. Your own comes up from your side to grip tight onto the wrist that's holding your face, and he can tell that you've noticed he's shaking.

"Sam..." Your voice comes out unsure, "Are you sure?"

"Am I sure?" He questions you, giving you an incredulous look. "Sweetheart, I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

You're holding onto him so tight, he just knows what you're going to say next.

"I love you." You thought it would come out a whisper, but it sounds stronger than you expected. You close your eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. "Oh, Sam, I love you so much."

His smile is brighter than a thousand suns, and his forehead drops against yours, staying there as you breath the other in; this new confession bringing in a wind of fresh air that has you feeling like you've both earned a pair of new lungs.

"I thought you might say that." He utters quietly, making you laugh and hit his chest lightly.

"Oh, shut up. Then why were you so scared, dumbass."

"I was confessing my love for you, either way I'm gonna be nervous!"

You smile cheekily, "Your love for me..."

"Don't act like you didn't know." His other hand comes up to hold the other side of your face, tilting your head up more to see you clearly.

"Maybe. But I had my doubts too." You confess.

Sam shrugs, "Well, without Dean I probably wouldn't have said anything for another decade, so-"

Your mouth drops open, "You finally gained the courage because Dean forced you to?" Sam stays still as you gape at him, and he smiles nervously.

"Does it help if I was thinking about it first?"

"Oh my god." You groan dejectedly and drop your head forward onto his chest. He holds the back of your head as he shakes with laughter.

"Okay, okay, be mad at me, whatever. Am I getting my kiss now?"

"Who said you were gonna get one at all?"

"Don't mess with me."

"I wouldn't dare."

...

The next morning, Dean groggily peels his eyes open to the morning sunlight peeking out of the curtains, and grumbles, questioning the time. It's around 8 am, which surprises him because he would have expected you or Sam to have woken him by now. At the thought of you guys, he turns over and manages to find himself alone in the dingy motel room. The bed covers are torn from the top of the bed, more settled towards the end of it, showing that you guys obviously slept in it, but there's no sign you or Sam are even still here.

Suddenly, he hears the low growl of his Baby pulling up outside, making him swing his legs out of bed and trudge over to the door. He swings it open, getting ready to yell at the both of you for going anywhere without him, even if it was breakfast, but his eyes widen and his jaw drops at the sight he's seeing.

You and Sam are standing close together near the trunk, leaning against the side, but mostly the other. Sam's hand, that isn't holding the grocery bags, is holding your hip, and you're looking up at him with a mischievous look in your eye. Sam says something which conjures up a giggle out of you, which then has Sam smiling brightly at the sight of you. He leans down and kisses you straight on the lips, holding you there for a moment before he pulls away to catch his breath. Both of you stand there, unaware of Dean's eyes on you, but neither of you would even really care if you did.

Dean's shocked expression turns to one of accomplishment. He nods, satisfied, and smiles like his brother just did. He sighs.

"Kids."

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester #supernatural

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whatifitis · 4 months ago

Text

♡ In Between - FC 43 ♡

Summary: You and Franco has a nice night in, when you start to think about your guys relationship and wonder if it's time you tell him that you really like him.

WC: 2320

CW: overuse of song references, nothing really, it's quite fluffy, maybe some negative thoughts the reader has about themselves?

It’s a Saturday night, one of the least chaotic ones now that your best friend is a driver in F1. Franco was called up to fill Logan's seat for the rest of the season which is beyond exciting and you couldn’t be more proud. The only downside is that his schedule is so much more packed now that he’s getting acknowledgement from so many teams and people. All this new media coverage feels so insane. And something that doesn’t help is the fact that you’ve slowly been falling for Franco.

The two of you have been friends for a while. But in recent months, you’ve started to see him in a different light. You’re sure it’s just a crush but it’s been well over 2 months that you’ve felt this way. Some say that crushes only last about 2 months, once you’re past that mark, you’re actually in love with the person. You hoped this crush would go away, afraid to ruin what you have with Franco. Your relationship with him is the best that’s ever happened to you. You never want to lose him. But alas, the crush did not go away. So now you’re here.

It’s a bit late into the evening now. Franco asked you out for lunch earlier and now the two of you are lying on his bed, watching American Pie. The two of you were lying on the bed, side by side. Franco was lying with his back against the bed's headboard while you lied next to him on your side. The safest place you’ve ever known, next to him.

The two of you were halfway through the movie when he asked you a question that you didn’t quite catch the first time, so you angle your head up to look at him. As soon as you locked eyes with him, Franco couldn’t help but laugh. When you moved your head to look at him, your glasses had skewed on your face.

His laugh always was so contagious, it always got you laughing too. When you two had calmed your laughing fits, Franco took his hand and adjusted your glasses into the right position, before leaning forward and gently kissing your forehead.

“You’re beautiful… and funny… And smart. Like nothing I’ve ever seen.” You turned to bury your face in your hands, trying to hide your blushing face. You love it when he talks, not just about you. About anything really, he’s your favorite yapper and you wish you could listen to him all day. Your favorite sound ever.

“Hey, let me see that beautiful face again.” Franco says, grabbing your hand and moving it from your face. “Hi” he says when he can see you again. “Hi” you reply, smiling so hard. It was so hard to believe this was real, your guy's friendship. It was the type of relationship you’d always dreamed of, that sort of naive and innocent relationship that was filled with laughter and joy and… love? Was it too soon to use that word? Maybe considering you were just friends… Just. Friends.

“So,” Franco started, pulling you out of your thoughts, “What’s the dream?” “The dream?” you look at him, confusion written all over your face. “Yeah, the dream. Your dream. What you’re working towards.”

You laid there for a beat, thinking about it. What was your dream? All this time, you’ve just been focusing on surviving, not so much on the living.

“Um, I’m not sure. I’ve never really thought about it. I guess I want to finish my masters degree in uni. Then after that, just… live, I guess.” you look up at him with a smile. “That’s it? You don’t have any other goals or anything?” - his eyebrows furrow, showing you a confused expression. You shake your head no. “You’re kidding.” - Franco snorts in disbelief. “Well, what are yours? Your plans, goals.” You ask as you sit up against the headboard of the bed. “Em, well, I guess F1 was always a big goal, and now I have it.” he sits there for a second, thinking, twisting his lips as he does, “I’ve also always wanted to have a nice house for my family.” “What does this house look like?” you ask. He takes a moment to think, trying to come up with an honest answer for you. “I never really thought about that to be honest. I just want something nice with enough space for my family. I think a pool in the back would be nice. A big backyard so we could have barbecues as well.”

You’re smiling at him, admiring the person in front of you. You could find the whole meaning of life in those eyes. You’re glad he gets you, and your dark sense of humor. And when you let him in on all your bad decisions, he made them feel less terrible the second that he’d listen.

Don’t stop talking to me. Maybe stay here forever, with me.

“I think that sounds lovely.” you say. “Thank you.” he replies, blushing at your words, “What about your house? Your dream house. Surely you have a dream house.”

You sit up straight, so ready to answer this question. You won’t lie when you say you’ve always wanted to be asked about this. “I do. Um, well it would have a green kitchen. I saw a picture of one online a while ago and just became obsessed with the idea. And the bathrooms would be pink and red, I just think that would look sick. Oh! I also really want a blue hallway.” Franco gives you a confused look, “A blue hallway? For what?” “There’s this band that I love and in one of their music videos, the band painted a wall in the house blue.” “Ah. Which song is the one for the blue wall?” “It’s called True Blue. It’s a song about the person you love and who loves you. This person knows you so well, maybe even more than you know yourself.” “Interesting” he nods his head as he mentally writes down the name of that song so he can listen to it later. He turns his body more towards you, asking “Do you have a true blue?” “I think I’m slowly discovering mine” - you confess. “What about you? Got a true blue yourself?” He looks at you before looking down at his hands and failing to suppress a smile. “Yeah, I do.” “Well, go on. Tell me about them.” you insist. “She’s really cool.”

She? Was he talking to someone else? No, don’t be like that. Maybe it’s just a friend or something? Right?

“She is also really smart.”, he continues, “She loves reading and not only listening to music but also creating it.” Is he talking about me? I do that. “And she’s really good at that. She’s also the hardest working person I know. Like I mean she’s really smart, like Einstein smart.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at this. He’s definitely exaggerating but you have to admit, you’re pretty fucking smart.

“Oh, is she now? She must be one hell of a catch” “Oh trust me. She is and I’m very lucky to have her. She’s also the most beautiful person I’ve ever known. Not just on the outside, that’s an added bonus. But she’s just incredible. And she laughs at all my jokes. And when I save the dirty ones for her, her nose crinkles. It’s really cute actually. Her voice as well, oh my god. The best sound ever. Like when there’s something she’s really interested in or really passionate about, she could talk for hours. That’s one of my favorite things about her. That and her laugh, I wish I could bottle up the sound of her laugh and keep it with me, so I can listen to it whenever I want. Don’t even get me started on how she is with my family. They all get along so amazingly, it’s so much greater than anything I could ever imagine. I think one of the selling points was my family loving her as much as I do. This girl also will drop everything for those she loves. It doesn’t matter if she has work or school or anything, she will drop it just to make sure you’re okay. And she will beat anyone’s ass if they hurt you. I think I’m falling for her. I don’t wanna look at anything else now that I’ve seen her. Now it’s like there’s daylight. Whenever I’m with her, everything feels okay.” “Wow.” is all you can say in this moment. Was he really talking about you? Or are you wishfully thinking he is? “Yeah”, he blushes, “wow”

You take a moment to take all that information in. Maybe he wasn’t talking about you. You clearly see how amazing he is, other people are able to as well. Your mood kind of dampens from these thoughts. You really thought you two could be something. You guess you made it all up in your head, it’s just all one sided.

“What’s wrong?” Franco asks. “Hm? What?” you respond, startled from the sudden break of silence. “What’s wrong? You kind of spaced out.” “Oh, nothing. Was just thinking.” “About?” he responds, sitting up from the bed to lean a bit closer to you. “It’s really nothing. Let’s keep watching the movie” you try to smile and lighten the mood again.

You move to raise the volume on the tv, but you feel Franco’s hand wrap around your wrist lightly. You turn back to look at Franco. He looks confused, and a bit scared?

“Wait, I need to talk to you.”

Oh shit

You return to your spot on the bed, not fully relaxing as his last sentence is kind of terrifying. “Yeah, of course. What’s up?” “I need to tell you something… about that girl.” “Oh”

Damn, alright. Keep bragging about how it’s not me, I guess.

“Well, I know she often thinks negatively about herself. Like she doesn’t deserve that type of stuff. Like love and happiness. She also has a hard time believing that people really do care about her. But I do, I love and care about her so much. And I know she’s afraid of letting people in, and she’s let me in a bit, but I want more with her.”

Ok, fuck me then. Wow, leave it to Franco to absolutely break my heart, unknowingly.

“So, what did you need from me?” “You dumb ass, it’s you! You’re the girl. You’re my true blue.” he lightly laughs.

What.

“What.” you stare at him blankly.

What the fuck? Is he for real right now? How though?

“I like you. I want more with you! You’re my true blue! I want you for worse or for better. I would wait for ever and ever.” - his tone is quiet as he confesses his feelings for you. You sit there silent for a moment before catching something. “Bitch, did you just quote Taylor Swift?!”

He looked to the side for a minute, as if he was thinking or trying to remember something while he pursed his lips. “Yeah?” he laughs, “I know you like her a lot so I listened to her a lot to try and learn some of her songs. They’re pretty good”

I’m going down without a fight, I don’t know how he does this. He makes me really nervous. What is he doing to me now?

“You listened to her… just for me?” you ask, still hesitant on whether he’s being serious or just messing with you. Cause you’re still falling for him and you can’t stop. This might be the thing that breaks you if it doesn’t end well.

“Yes. Staying up with you, despite the space between us. I’ve never felt so close to someone. You came out of the blue like a shooting star. You wait and wait for it to appear, and when it does, it illuminates its surroundings, just for a second. And that is the feeling that I want to feel forever. Everytime I get to see you, it’s like you illuminate every space you walk into.”

What if he’s my weakness?

“I- I don’t know what to say. All this time, I’ve been keeping on my mind on the running away. And for the first time, I’d consider to stay. I know I make the same mistakes a lot and I never learn. But I think I did one thing right.” you say, smiling as his starry eyes spark up this dark night.

He’s looking at you with so much admiration in his eyes.

“I got so damn close to packing it up, then you happened. I’ll never leave out the back door and I don’t plan on running away from the good things anymore.” - you continue.

The two of you just sat there in silence, staring at each other with smiles plastered on your faces. Franco is the first to break, moving closer to you, leaning close to grab the side of your face.

Breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out

You’re close enough to feel each other breathe. Just one inch closer and… His lips are on yours, connecting gently. They’re warm and soft. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling your bodies closer together. At the same time, Franco brings his other arm to wrap around your torso, grabbing the side of your waist so you don’t slip away. It’s like taking your first breath of air in years. You feel his lips on yours as butterflies erupt in your stomach.

After a few moments, you break the kiss, needing to actually take in some air. Franco’s hand is still on the side of your face, slowly he slides it down to connect your fingers with his.

“Can I be yours?” he asks, “Your forever true blue?” he asks. “Forever and always”

#f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto fanfic #franco colapinto fluff

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thef1diary · 9 months ago

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While It Lasts | L. Norris - 2

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

Part 1

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

wc: 16.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not with you around,” he shrugged casually.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded, “how’d it go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- Your favourite tour guide

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

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

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

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

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glamourscat · 1 month ago

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TAKE ONE | actor! TIM DRAKE x actor! reader

rivals to ..? | pt 1? | gn! reader

“How can you not understand?” Tim yelled at you, his voice rising above the relentless rain pouring down on both of you.

“I love you. I am so madly, pathetically, in love with you. And yet, you keep running back to him. Back to that damned jerk, over and over again. While me— I’m… your stupid best friend,” his voice cracked, raw and vulnerable.

“I’ve always been here, and you know that. Every late night holding you while you cried, every single t—” His words broke off as your lips collided with his, cutting him off with the force of something long overdue. Something he had dreamed of for months, no, years.

His hands moved instinctively to your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss was hungry yet soft, an overwhelming intensity that sent shivers down his spine. Goosebumps on his skin.

“And… cut!” the director’s voice broke through the moment, followed by an applause from the crew. “Great job, everyone. That’s the last scene for today. Go get changed. Meeting in room 2 in an hour.”

The crew began dismantling the props, the artificial rain stopped and the two of you stood there, still drenched, now with an awkward distance between you.

It wasn’t that he hated you. But he couldn’t stand you either. He’d been in this industry since he was a kid, nepotism, some would say. But haters will always be haters. Not his fault he was born loaded. Still, now at 23 he found himself needing more substantial roles. Filled with drama and twists. And, of course, his on-screen love interest had to be you.

The same person who keeps stealing Golden Globes right out of his grasp. Award after award, casting roles, and even his damn agent. So, no. He didn’t hate you. But, if he had to describe you, he would probably say you’re that annoying itch under your skin that not matter how much you scratch it, never really leaves.

Yet… there was something about you. Maybe it was the constant bickering that spilled from the script into your daily interactions. Maybe it was the fact that this kiss scene had taken six exhausting takes, but he couldn’t stop thinking about your lips on his.

And though he refused to admit it, he was beginning to crave this feeling. That terrified him.

“Why are you following me?” he asked flatly, his back still to you as you trailed behind him. “Your trailer’s on the other side,” he added, his tone deliberately detached.

“I told you this morning, but you never listen,” you scoffed. “My trailer’s out of order. There’s a leak in the bathroom, so they moved some of my stuff into yours for now.”

He stopped, turning to face you. His expression flickered between annoyance and disbelief.

“And there was no other trailer they could put you in?”

“Obviously not,” you replied, sarcasm dripping from your tone.

He scoffed, resuming his pace as you followed. When he reached his trailer, he stepped inside without a backward glance, immediately peeling off his soaked clothes.

“Come in, close the door, but don’t lock it otherwise we get stuck in.” he said nonchalantly, walking around in nothing but his boxers

“You have no decency,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as you stepped in.

He smirked, glancing over his shoulder. His blue eyes trialing over your figure. “You’ve seen me in far less, considering the other scenes we had to shoot. Don’t be such a prude.”

“It’s not about being a prude. You’re just…, never mind. Jerk.” you grumbled under your breath, pulling off your drenched clothes too.

He turned, and his smirk widened. “Well, that’s a choice,” he teased, eyeing your Batman underwear, barely concealing his laugh.

“If you say anything, I swear, you’re done for,” you warned, trying not to laugh yourself.

He raised his hands in mock surrender, a chuckle slipping past his lips. “Whatever you say,” he hummed, turning back to dry himself off.

But in his mind, he was already storing this moment away for future need. Oh, he was absolutely going to use this against you one day.

Pt2? 👀

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theastrical · 9 months ago

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genshin men and their way of apologising

Genshin men and their ways of apologising.

kaeya, diluc, childe, (alhaitham, zhongli, kaveh on pt.2) x reader (fem!reader diluc)

ps: it’s comfort/hurt, a bit angsty but with fluffy ending!! Also if you guys have triggers with cursing, this content has cursing/verbal scolding implications so please mind that before reading!

Kaeya:

“stop doing this and that..you’ll end up being a burden.” He shuts off the door and locks it. You were just trying to help him, and unfortunately, he doesn’t like it. This happens quiet a lot, where he closed off all part of himself in order to heal himself…that’s okay, at first, but what about you? You’re hurt and he kept you out just like that; is he here to wound your heart just like the other exes who grew apart from you?

And when you start to lose your patience, he can’t do nothing about it, right? He’s just there to hurt-hurt-and make you feel as if you in deserve of such a treatment. You cried, it felt weird to cry over kaeya. He has been sweet, yes, you never doubted once that his act are truly meant for you, but at what certain point did you do to make him immediately switch up? You didn’t know, you never know. He never wanted to communicate, that’s the problem.

“if you don’t want me to help you, that’s fine, just please kaeya…talk to me like i’m a human, not somebody you can use when you’re happy. I also need a set of time to heal.” You say that-an automatic reply set on your brain to confront him even if it’s not face to face. Now door to door-you just scold him and leave.

It took him a huge amount of time to heal. he knows what he has done can’t be undone. Listening to your cries become his worst fear, he can’t just stand in front of your eyes and say sorry, he knows that wouldn’t work. That enough explains how much he hates apologising; because his apologies always ended up with him crushing over the burden of his sins.

That’s why, the next day, in the morning when you woke up. Kaeya is already there beside your bedside. Folding your palm between his. His head on the floor.

“i’ve taken your words and…* he sighs before continuing. “Apologies don’t really matter if i don’t change my attitudes, so please, if you’re still willing to give me one more chance, can i have the privilege to change, at least, for you?”…he stays quiet for a while. “Lastly, i’m sorry, i know all i did these yesterday and these past few months weren’t tolerable. I understand if you would hate me for this.”..he looks up to you, his eyes are already watery. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He hugs you and that felt so good…

A mark on your neck was left, a few peck it took for him to finally calm down. And he looks at you with a smile, even when his eyes are puffy. “I love you..thank you for still being here.”

Diluc:

Diluc came home quite late, it was unusual and it worries you, after all, since the day you married him. He had never been this late-he always come home with a huge surprise which is food…for obvious reason (he’s wants you to eat instead of cooking him a meal since he knew how exhausting it can be).

you were just about to ring up his phone-and suddenly a slam from the door was heard. You came to the first floor and..there’s diluc! “Diluc!” You grin, as always, you warmly greeted him, because it’s your husband, it’s diluc, what more reason to make you adore him?

You tried to help him get his bag and put off his jacket…but his bag was so heavy…whatever does he put inside his bag? Why is it so h— oh no! The bag suddenly hit your coffee cup and spilled the remaining coffee to the bag…now his bag is tainted with coffee and he-who saw that scene in front of him can’t even hide his raging eyes. Before one word to spit out-he gives off a long sigh-squinting his eyes.

“Why…sigh…it’s always you, you AND YOU who makes the worst mistake OVER AND OVER AGAIN! In the WORST TIMING AS WELL, CAN YOU—“ you replied, cutting off his words. “I-i’m so sorry diluc…i’ll help you with th—“ , “CAN YOU STOP CUTTING MY WORDS? Listen to me lady, it’s not about the bag or the papers, its about your presence…why helping you when you can’t even help yourself fix these problems, you’re helpless.”

He said that like a drunk man with no sanity behind his eyes, yet, this time, he’s actually sober, so sober he already pulled off that bag from your grip... He’s losing his patience and you know his words are the truth…still it hurts way too much. Why? Because it’s diluc, the one you called husband. tears fell and you don’t know what to do. It’s like your body doesn’t know how to move.

You look at his eyes, your mind went blank. You can sense his anger, but the tears never stop from your eyes. It’s like you just got hit by a truck. You try to left the living room to the bedroom upstair. At the same time diluc realise his action-you’re already up there-on the stair.

As soon as your foot step into the bedroom. You slowly loses the ability to numb the tears. You lay down on the comfy covers and then just cry. Sniffling. Without words, just cry and cry and cry. Realising that it was your mistake but..it hurts when he struck you with the truth that you’re useless in his eyes.

Diluc didn’t pay mind to pride when it comes to apologizing. Hence, when he heard the sniffling become louder in each breathe you took. He storms to the bedroom and hold your body to his embrace. Covering you from his face. Covering you from the cowardice and guilt he has to face. Securing you from his words..comforting you with his presence.

“sorry princess…don’t bother looking at my face if it means you’ll hate me…i don’t deserve the sight of your eyes…i don’t deserve anything.” He hugs you closer and strokes your hair, within each stroke, it felt like his hands have just won you again. “Thank you for helping me, it ease me a lot—that’s the word you need and i’m unable to fulfil that right..here i am, rejecting you, not acknowledging the effort you took just to wait for me.” He kisses your forehead before carrying you to sit on his lap. “but do believe that i’ll fix this mistake and beg on your knees if you need me to...” he look at your eye despite you not giving him a sight of your puffy eye.

“Anything for a second chance, for my princess.”

Childe:

you really love cooking. It’s something that nobody really knows-cause not evedybody has seen you cook or even taste the food you cook. You’re known to be secretive about everything; Even childe being your husband, only 2 of your 100 friends know-especially with the fact that topic is on your top 10 secret list.

And being in a marriage with childe means you’ll cook 24/7, which at first seems fine with you-but lately, you’ve been losing interest in cooking. It’s like..whatever you make is just a rating of ”it’s okay” for childe. It’s like he doesn’t even bother appreciating your food. So today, you’re trying to confront him…

He’s in a badmood-that’s why he doesn’t bother to try and reach out to you. Though it’ll be very thoughtful if you actually make him his comfort food right? And maybe if you did so, he would’ve complimented your cooking? Right! So you did and you’re so happy with the result! It taste perfect! So you began serving it onto the small bowl and put the food in front of him, you immediately get some spoonful of the food and put it inside his mouth-which is hot-like BURNING HOT. You know you fucked up so badly, so you get some water for him before he said “fuck!” so casually.

“W-what’s wrong..? Sorry i burned your tongue, i really am..!!! Please dr—“ he immediately cut you off. “No…i don’t want to eat dinner, the food doesn’t even taste good…” oh. “and thank you for burning my tongue as well! It certainly helps!.” He mocked you. “Now i can speak while enduring the pain! Right! That’s what you want your husband to feel, right?” He happily grins, a mockery. Childe immediately walked out of the dining room like a child.

And he scoffs silently on the hallway, even though it’s easy enough for you to listen because he talks to himself like he talks to another being. “I should’ve just searched for another person..i can’t stay with an idiot…” and that push you towards a realization that childe always have think of you as somebody who isn’t worth of his time. It’s like reality finally gives you a sign that he’s just one lucky pull you got. You didn’t cry. It gives you a numbing feeling, an empty one.

You sat on the dining table, taking out your apron, you get some bowl of the food and eat it by yourself. Because, like childe said, he wouldn’t eat dinner, so why bother waiting for somebody who can’t even appreciate you?

Eating alone is such a complex feeling, especially in a marriage. It feels lonely but peaceful. At least it can make your mind steady for whatever coming afterwards. You did feel a bit better but..the pain of his words never left you. It never did. It just makes the heart feel more numb as the seconds passed.

You sighed and…there he is, all shy and embarrassed behind the walls, he has been spying on you since 30 minutes ago…he’s guilty as charged. When you see him, you ignored him, immediately. Not wanting to share another eye contact with that man who have insulted your ways of loving him.

He follows you and hold onto your arm before you go elsewhere, who knows what will you do if his arms didn’t hold yours. Childe is embarrassed-guilt on his face and a coward on his heart. He made you wait for a good 5 minutes, he was waiting for you to say something..but instead, childe was met with cold air.

“i’m a loser for insulting your way of loving me. I’m dramatic. I’m a brat. I’m everything that you don’t want in a man.” His head can’t even meet yours. After all, your eyes are blank and it pierces his soul. “You don’t need to give me second chance. You don’t need to treat me right after what i’ve done. A bad deed is a bad deed.” With the courage of the final sentence; he hold onto your hand and kisses your fingertips. “I will win that cold heart of yours again and again, if it means i can live with you in every life to come.”

#childe x reader #kaeya x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #ajax x reader #childe fanfic #kaeya fanfic #diluc fanfic #genshin impact #genshin impact fics #childe fluff #kaeya fluff #diluc fluff #childe x reader fluff #kaeya x reader fluff #diluc x reader fluff

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disaster-writer · 19 days ago

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Uncovered Part 3

Alpha!Bakugo x Omega!Reader

A/N: surprise! Have another part today

Summary: Alpha!Bakugo finds out that you’ve secretly been an Omega all this time

Part 1 Part 2

Bakugo stood with his fist poised, ready to knock on the front door to your apartment— that was until he dropped his hand to the side for the umpteenth time that night.

”Fuck— this is so fucking stupid,” he growled, yearning to just punch a goddamn hole in the wall and just leave already.

It was late anyway, you were probably asleep by now. He could just come back tomorrow morning.

He took a step back and turned… that’s what he’ll do, he’ll come back tomorrow morning before you’re meant to report to the agency for work—

He stopped.

“FUCK—“ Bakugo slammed his fist hard against your front door three times.

After a few beats he was greeted with the door being swung open and you standing exasperated on the other side.

Almost immediately you rolled your eyes, shaking your head, “No. Go home—“ you went to shut the door but Bakugo shoved his foot in the door before you could.

”We need to talk,” He muttered gruffly, peering down at you with hard eyes.

Your nostrils flared as you stared back up at him with an indignant look, “I have nothing to say to you—“

”Have you been crying?” The words flew past his lips as he took in your appearance. You were dressed in pajamas, no doubt already in bed for the night when he came, and your eyes were swollen and watery as if you had just finished sobbing your eyes out.

You huffed, “Go. Home.”

The two of you stared each other down for another moment before Bakugo forced himself forward and shoved himself inside, throwing you off balance and stumbling backwards, unable to stop him.

Bakugo glanced around your apartment. It was nice— expensive. It was expected of a hero of your notoriety, but even more so due to the fact you were a legacy hero. He wouldn’t lie, despite being relatively close friends ever since Raccoon Eyes all but adopted you into the group during first year, he always did chalk you up to just being another rich kid from another long line of heroes that got everything handed to them on a silver platter.

He realized with faint recognition that this was the first time he had set foot in your place. You never invited anyone over, always assuming you just liked your privacy but now… he was sure it was more than that.

Bakugo heard the click of the door shutting behind him, followed by a defeated sigh.

“Why are you here Bakugo?” You asked, clearly exhausted, walking past him and deeper into the apartment as you made your way to the kitchen.

”Hah?” He sneered incredulously, following in tow, “You’re really going to ask me that after what happened this afternoon?”

“I’ve been watching the news all day— you haven’t told anyone yet,” you muttered, reaching the top of your fridge for a bottle of sake.

”Of course I didn’t tell dumbass.”

You threw him a resentful glance over your shoulder, “Well why not?” You spat before unscrewing the top of the bottle and taking a swig before finally seating yourself down at the kitchen island.

Bakugo rounded the island, slamming his hands down on the counter across from you, “How low do you think I am—?”

Your head snapped up, locking your gaze with his once more, ”Pretty fucking low considering I found you going through my shit!— I mean, who even does that!? What were you even trying to find—“

”You’re changing the subject!” Bakugo rushed, ears tinging pink knowing the truth of why he even looked in the first place was embarrassing enough.

There was a pregnant pause before you finally rolled your eyes and took another swig— it didn’t even matter at this point did it? Your life may as well be over anyway…

“What do you want?” You finally sighed, resigned to whatever the rest of this interaction was going to be.

”I want to understand,” he replied, more even and controlled than his previous outbursts, “How have you hid this for so long? —And who else knows about you.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, fingering the rim of your sake bottle in thought. “Why should I even tell you?”

”I’m not going to say anything.”

“That is until you change your mind.”

”I won’t.” He hissed, “I’m not going to get your license revoked— now will you just answer me.”

You continued to remain silent, making him huff in frustration.

”The cold.”

Your eyes slid to his, confusion painting your face, “What?”

”The cold,” he reiterated, clearly annoyed, “It’s my main weakness.”

You narrowed your eyes, “I already know that—“

”I’m just saying— if I tell… then you tell. I have a lot of enemies that would pay for that kinda information.”

You were quiet once more, eyeing him and weighing his words. His own gaze was unrelenting, pinning you in your seat. Bakugo was many things but you never really knew him to go back on his word…

”You’re the only one other than my family, doctor, and trainer that knows,” you sighed, taking a swig, “That’s how we’ve kept it secret, parents that hired a doctor and trainer to mix up the perfect cocktail of drugs and regimens to pass me off as an Alpha. That and a whole lot of hush money.” You muttered sarcastically.

”Why?”

”Why?” You scoffed, “Because I’m a (Y/L/N). We don’t have Omegas, everyone in my family has been born an Alpha and then has trained to become a hero for generations.”

”But you guys do have an Omega.”

You shot him a glare, “Yeah, I’m well aware asshole.”

”So what? Making you a hero was going to somehow save your family name?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what it is. And I was doing a fine job of it too until you decided to stick your nose in places it doesn’t belong.”

Bakugo finally took a seat, “You all actually think you can keep this a secret?” He asked incredulously.

You quirked a brow, “I am.”

He pursed his lips… technically that was true, but more so because it would have been unthinkable that an Omega would have managed to get as far as you have in this field.

Honestly it was a goddamn miracle you even managed to get into class 1-A to begin with.

If it wasn’t for that he probably would have believed you were at least a Beta if not an Omega, especially as your scent gave no indication…

Bakugo perked up, “Why don’t you smell like an Omega?”

“Drugs,” you shrugged, “My brothers also scent me to mask whatever’s left.”

”And what about—“ heats, Bakugo caught himself before he could say it, the realization hitting him over the head like a ton of bricks. You experience heats. A blush spread across his cheeks, mind suddenly clouded by images of you locked away in your bedroom and—

“What about what?” You asked him impatiently, “Are we done here yet? You already get the gist and if I still have a job in the morning then I need to go to bed now.” You stood up, rounding the kitchen island back towards the front door with Bakugo following behind hesitantly. He still had so many questions but was suddenly and actually aware that you were an Omega… he had never been very tactful around Omegas before.

You stood by the now open door, waiting for him to leave.

And so he did, but not before you stopped him with one final thing left to say. You had stopped him with a grip on his bicep, peering up at him with serious eyes, “You need to be aware of how you treat me in public going forward. If you start pulling some Alpha bullshit and favoring me on missions or doting on me in front of our friends I will make sure every one of your enemies finds out Dynamight can’t handle the cold. Understood?”

He bared his teeth and in a low whisper said, “Don’t get such a big head— you’re still an extra to me.”

With that he had tugged his arm from your grasp and headed out.

He would never admit that what you had said was exactly what had been weighing on his mind since he found the pill bottle.

———————

Requests Open

#my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #bakugo #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katuski #bakugo x reader #alpha!bakugo #alpha!bakugo x reader #alpha!katsuki x reader #alpha!bakugo katsuki x reader

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lolacelest101 · 13 days ago

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No Need for Privacy Part 2

18+ MDNI

Hi Hi!! I want to start off by saying THANK YOU for all the support that you all gave my on my first part! I know I don't have a set schedule yet, but I feel like I definitely took too long to give y'all part 2 so here we go!! For this post you can read it as a one parter or you can go back to part one to read it then come back for this!

I hope you enjoy this one and as always HAPPY READING!

Word Count: 8109

TW: In this part, there is some really dark humor about serious topics including Su!sidal ideation and other dark topics. This is NOT meant to make fun of these topics. It was just meant as really dark and fucked up humor.

If this is a trigger for you PLEASE DON'T READ!!!

Summary: Y/N recently moved to Monaco for work with her best friends and is currently living with them in the same house. Sparks fly between Lando and Y/N, when Lando who is living next door catches Y/N in a spicy moment starting a secret romance that they have to hide from the public.

Themes: Lando!Norris x Fem!American!reader, next door neighbor, secret dating

Smutty tings: POV switch, Fem dom switch, oral fem receiving, mirror sex, p in v, unprotected sex (please practice safe sex!!!!), slight over stimulation, fingering, praise and degradation kink.

Y/N's POV

It’s been over a week of orientation at work with the girls and nonstop media obligations for Lando in preparation for the Monaco GP this coming weekend. The odds of seeing him are slim, especially since we’re sneaking around like teenagers behind everyone’s backs.

I’ve never been one to date in secret, but in my defense, I’ve never been involved with someone so well-known that fans and paparazzi needed to be factored into a relationship.

Today is media day for Lando, but he managed to text me earlier, letting me know he’d be able to leave early after finishing some interviews and a meeting. By the time I get home, he should already be free. He suggested I tell the girls I’m heading to the gym. But honestly, that excuse will sound unbelievable if I end up spending the night at his place.

My focus snaps back to the task at hand as Liana and Aaliyah approach my desk.

“Hey, girl. You need to take a break or get some fresh air. You’ve been sitting like this for the past hour,” Aaliyah says, her voice laced with concern.

Liana stands behind me and starts massaging my shoulders. “Look, this project isn’t going anywhere. Just get up and take a breather or something!”

I sigh, realizing they have a point. “You’re right, sadly. Fine!” I stand up, grabbing my phone and wallet. “Coffee break?”

They both nod in unison, and we head toward the elevator to grab some coffee from the third floor—the only place with decent coffee in the building.

“So, are we doing anything this Sunday? I heard Camille mention that a bunch of people are going to Jimmy’s and invited us,” Aaliyah says, practically vibrating with excitement.

“I’m down, as long as the grand prix is done by then. Traffic’s going to be insane,” I reply as we step into the elevator.

“Same here,” Liana agrees. “But what about tonight? I feel too bored to just sit at home doing nothing.”

“Oh!” Aaliyah’s eyes light up. “How about a movie night? 27 Dresses, The Princess Diaries 1… and 2,” she adds dramatically, grinning as Liana nods in agreement.

Shit. How am I going to get out of this one?

“Sorry, girls. You’ll have to watch without me. I have to finish the project tonight—or at least the PowerPoint. I don’t want to spend more time on it than I absolutely have to.” I try to sound apologetic, praying they don’t catch onto my lie.

I’ve never been a great liar, and these two know all my tells. Right now, I’m hoping they’ve forgotten them.

“Dude, leave work at work! Don’t stress yourself out. I know it’s easier said than done, but come on,” Liana scolds, launching into one of her motivational speeches about the importance of work-life balance as we wait for the coffee machine to finish brewing.

I raise my hand to make a peace offering. “Okay! How about this—let me work on my project tonight, and tomorrow, I’ll take you both to that Japanese restaurant we’ve been wanting to try. My treat.”

“Fine, but you better pinky swear on it because I swear…” Liana starts, clearly recalling the last few times I flaked.

I grin, extending my pinky. “Deal.”

-------------------

Later That Night

"Okay, girls, I’m going to get changed and work on the project. Have fun with the movies!" I call out, doing my best to sound completely unsuspicious.

What the hell is wrong with me? I’m so going to get caught. Movie Night Ditcher—that’s going to be my new nickname for a while. And when they find out I’ve been hiding a whole relationship behind their backs? Oh, it’ll be so much worse. If they even talk to me after that, it’ll only be for a few days—maybe a week. Anything longer would be borderline criminal.

Once I’m in my room, it’s time for Mission: Sneak Out. No, I can’t come up with a better name right now—how the fuck am I supposed to sneak out of a second-story window without breaking my neck?

I glance out the window, trying to gauge just how bad the fall would be. After spending far too long assessing the situation—long enough for it to seem borderline suicidal by society's standers—I decide that today is not the day I live out some cheesy teen rom-com moment. I’ll leave through the front door like the classy lady I am.

My focus snaps back as I hear the familiar Kim Possible text notification from my phone. Picking it up, I read the message from Lando.

LN 🪟🧡: Hey, cutie pie! I’m waiting on the sidewalk for you. Please don’t leave me hanging, princess—I’ve been dying to see you and touch you all day! 😽

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the instant, undeniable craving to feel his hands on me. Grabbing my laptop, I head downstairs. From the kitchen, I can hear Liana and Aaliyah debating over which movie to watch first while the popcorn machine hums in the background.

This is my chance.

Tiptoeing to the door, I carefully grip the handle and twist it as silently as possible. I slip outside, quickly flicking on the porch light before shutting the door behind me and locking it. The light will stay on until the sun fully sets, making my excuse a little more believable.

Just to keep the girls from freaking out, I shoot a text to our group chat:

Me: Hey loves! Decided to take my laptop out to the front yard for some fresh air and fewer distractions. Don’t worry about me!

Hopefully Liana wouldn't get all detective Sherlock Holmes —or worse, Criminal Minds profiler—on my ass. Hopefully.

As I sneak past the house’s front gate and step onto the sidewalk, strong yet gentle hands settle firmly on my hips, pulling me into a back hug.

Before my fight-or-flight instincts can kick in, I twist my head slightly and catch Lando’s cheeky smile over my shoulder. His grip tightens, tugging at the fabric of my flowing sundress and molding my curves against him.

"God, you smell amazing, Princess," Lando whispers in my ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down my spine.

"Glad you like it. It’s my favorite too," I reply, my voice soft as he leans closer, his lips pressing a tender kiss to my neck. The subtle floral scent of my perfume fills the space between us as he inhales deeply.

The heat of his lips on my skin sends an electric thrill through my body, pooling warmth in my core and nearly making me forget that we’re still outside, fully visible from the house.

"Okay, so what’s the plan? Hanging out at yours or...?" I ask, turning to face him as I try to gauge our options.

His eyes roam over me hungrily, lingering on every curve and inch of exposed skin. "I’ve got a reservation lined up for dinner, and then I thought I’d surprise you with something special... but after seeing you in this dress, I don’t know if I’ll even make it through dinner without losing my mind."

His gaze burns into me, his hunger palpable.

"Well then, Mr. Norris," I tease, a mischievous grin spreading across my face as I drape my arms around his neck, my fingers threading through his soft curls. "I guess we better make it to that reservation quickly—so we can move on to the more fun parts of the night."

Lando opened the passenger door of his sleek black McLaren, a playful smile on his lips as he gestured for me to get in. I oblige, sliding into the luxurious seat and fastening my seatbelt.

The drive to the restaurant takes about twenty minutes, but it feels much longer with one of his hands confidently resting on the steering wheel while the other lingers on my thigh. His fingers trace slow, deliberate circles on my skin, sending a ripple of heat through me that I try—and fail—to ignore.

By the time we pull up to the restaurant, my panties are already damp, and I’m silently begging the universe that nothing betrays me by seeping through.

Lando slides out of the driver’s seat with casual grace and quickly makes his way to my side. He opens the door with a flourish, extending his hand toward me.

"My lady," he says with a teasing lilt, his eyes glinting with mischief.

I place my hand in his, letting him help me out of the car. "Thank you," I reply, a grin tugging at the corners of my lips as our gazes lock.

Lando hands his keys to the valet with a nod before turning back to me, his hand lightly brushing the small of my back as he guides me toward the entrance.

Dim lights lined the stairs leading up to the restaurant's grand front door, where a man greeted us warmly and motioned us inside.

"Hello, Mr. Norris. Your table is ready on the private patio as requested," he said with a professional smile.

Lando gestured for him to lead the way. "Great, thank you."

I turned to Lando, my brows arching in surprise. "A private patio? Don’t you think that’s a bit much?"

He tugged me closer, his hand resting possessively on my hip. "Nothing is too much for you, princess. Plus, it has the best view—I know you’ll love it."

The waiter led us through a discreet, tucked-away hallway, hidden from the main dining area. As we stepped onto the patio, my breath caught. Before us was a perfectly set table overlooking the ocean, with the vibrant colors of the sunset painting the horizon. The table was adorned with delicate flowers and flickering candlelight that gave the scene an enchanting glow.

I turned to Lando, my heart full, and cupped his face gently in my hands. "I love it. It’s absolutely gorgeous." I pressed a soft butterfly kiss to his lips.

His lips curved into a satisfied smile. "I’m glad," he murmured, kissing me back. This time, his kiss deepened, more passionate now that the waiter had taken his cue to leave.

Pulling away reluctantly, he slid a chair out for me. "After you, my lady."

I smiled as I sat down, and the night began beautifully.

-------------

The sun had long dipped below the horizon, casting a soft glow over the patio as our conversation carried on effortlessly. Lando regaled me with hilarious stories about his chaotic childhood with his siblings and the adventures of his karting days, his animated expressions making me laugh so hard I nearly choked on a bite of chicken carbonara.

Every laugh, every glance felt natural, yet the subtle heat between us simmered just beneath the surface. His fingers occasionally brushed over mine, lingering a little longer each time, the casual touches growing more deliberate. With each graze of his skin against mine, the heat in my core deepened, the teasing connection between us becoming impossible to ignore.

My focus was momentarily interrupted by a notification on my phone. I excused myself, reaching into my purse to check the text from Aaliyah.

Ally 🪩💕: Hey girly!! You’ve been working on this thing for like 2 hours. We’re about to start PD1!! We miss your commentaries, GIRLLYYY!! 😩

Me: Hey love!! You two just watch it without me. I still need at least another hour on this thing. I PROMISE to annoy the shit out of you next time. Enjoy 😽!!

Sliding my phone back into my purse, I looked up to find Lando handing his card to the waiter. His brow furrowed slightly as he studied me. "The girls—are they worried?"

"No, they’re fine," I reassured him with a smile. "They just wanted me to join, but I told them I needed at least another hour."

"Alright then," he said, his lips curving into a mischievous grin. "Time to head home?"

The teasing glint in his eyes left no doubt about what he meant by home.

"Sounds good, but let me stop by the restroom first," I replied, matching his grin.

As I stood and turned, I could feel his gaze searing into my skin, setting every nerve alight.

"Enjoying the view?" I asked, my grin practically audible in my tone.

"Absolutely," Lando shot back, his own grin evident. "So hurry back."

After finishing in the restroom, I made my way back to the patio, where Lando stood waiting, leaning casually against the railing. His eyes lit up when he saw me, and he wasted no time stepping forward to meet me.

"All set?" he asked, his lips curving into a wicked grin.

I nodded, and without another word, he took my hand, pulling me toward the entrance. His movements were quick and deliberate as he retrieved the keys from the valet, thanking him with a brief nod.

Once inside the car, Lando revved the engine of his sleek McLaren, the low growl vibrating through the air. He shot me a glance, his eyes dark with intent. "Buckle up, princess. The faster we get home, the sooner I can have my way with you."

I barely managed to fasten my seatbelt before he hit the gas, the car roaring to life as we sped onto the open road. The city lights blurred around us, but my focus was entirely on him—and the way his free hand found its way to my thigh.

His touch was firm, deliberate, and impossibly distracting. His fingers traced slow, tantalizing patterns on the fabric of my dress, sending shivers through my body as the cool night air rushed in through the slightly cracked window.

His touch started slow, his fingers tracing light, teasing patterns on the fabric of my dress. "You’re so damn gorgeous, you know that?" he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire.

His hand didn’t stop moving, and as the car took a slight turn, the motion caused my dress—already riding up from the way I was sitting—to inch higher, baring more of my legs. Lando noticed instantly.

"Looks like this dress wants to cooperate with me tonight," he said, his tone dripping with amusement as his fingers brushed the newly exposed skin.

I gasped softly at the contact, my breath hitching as he let his fingers press just a little firmer, sliding further up my thigh.

"Lando," I breathed, my voice betraying the way his touch was unraveling me.

"Yes, princess?" he asked, his lips quirking into a smirk as his fingers teased the sensitive skin just above my knee.

"You’re driving way too fast," I managed to say, though my words lacked conviction.

He chuckled, the sound deep and full of mischief. "I always drive fast, love. Besides, don’t act like you don’t love the adrenaline—just like you’re loving this." his hand slipping higher, just under the hem of my dress, which had now ridden up enough to expose the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.

The combination of his touch and the hum of the engine sent a thrilling tension coursing through me. I gripped the edge of my seat, half from the speed and half from the way his hand kept inching closer to the heat pooling between my legs.

I bit my lip, my hands gripping the edge of the seat as his fingers made lazy circles , sending jolts of heat through my body.

"God, you’re so responsive," he said, his voice dripping with admiration and desire. His thumb brushed a little higher, just beneath the fabric of my dress, and my head fell back against the seat.

"Lando," I whispered, my tone equal parts plea and warning.

"Hmm?" he hummed, clearly enjoying every second of this. His fingers stayed just shy of where I needed him most, teasing me mercilessly.

"You’re going to kill me," I muttered, my voice breathless.

He laughed, his hand retreating slightly, but only to give my thigh a firm squeeze. "Not tonight, princess. Tonight, I’m going to keep you very much alive—and make sure everyone in the neighborhood knows exactly who makes you feel that way."

-------------------

By the time we reached his house, my heart was racing, and the heat between us was palpable. As soon as the car stopped, he was out and around to my side in an instant, opening the door for me. "Come on," he said, his voice full of promise as he took my hand and led me inside.

My heart thudded in my ears, a frantic rhythm fueled by excitement and nerves. I couldn’t help but wonder if the girls had seen us or heard the car pass by.

We rushed into the house, and as the front door clicked shut behind us, reality hit me all at once. I was in his house. He slept here, lived here, called this place home. These walls had witnessed so much of his life—friends, family, ex-girlfriends—both in moments of joy and sorrow.

The quiet hum of the outside world faded, replaced by a softer, warmer ambiance. A low melody drifted through the air—smooth jazz, wrapping itself around me like a cozy blanket.

“I didn’t know you were such a fan of calm music,” I teased, glancing at him with a playful smirk.

“Well, let me show you all the things about me you could fall in love with,” he replied with a soft chuckle.

The lighting was warm and inviting, golden hues glinting off polished surfaces. The simple yet elegant chandelier cast a gentle glow, complementing the room’s ambiance.

His words sent a flutter of butterflies through my stomach. He took my hand, lacing our fingers together as he led me deeper into the house.

I glanced around, taking in the space. It was effortlessly stylish yet distinctly him—comfortable, modern, and charmingly chaotic. A teetering stack of books rested precariously on the coffee table, with a few racing magazines tucked underneath. The oversized, plush couch had a throw blanket draped over one arm, the kind of detail that hinted at lazy afternoons and cozy evenings.

“It’s, uh... cozier than I expected,” I said, raising a brow at him.

Lando shrugged, following my gaze. “What can I say? I like a little organized chaos.” He flashed that boyish grin that never failed to disarm me.

I wandered further into the room, my fingers grazing the edge of the couch before stopping by the shelves near the window. They were lined with an eclectic mix of trophies, framed photos, and random trinkets. One photo in particular caught my eye—a candid shot of him laughing with his family at what looked like a barbecue.

Seeing that side of him made my chest tighten in the best way.

“You’re really just going to stand there judging my decor?” His voice, mockingly indignant, pulled me from my thoughts. “I thought you were here to spend time with me, not critique my vibe.”

I smirked, turning to face him with a playful glint in my eye. “I’m not judging, just... observing. You can tell a lot about a person from their living room.”

“Oh yeah?” he challenged, stepping closer. “And what does mine say about me?”

“That you’re sentimental... a little messy... but mostly just hopelessly charming,” I said, tilting my head as if scrutinizing him.

“Hopelessly charming?” he echoed, his grin widening as he stopped just a step away. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” I teased, crossing my arms.

“Too late.” He reached out, tugging me gently by the waist until I was pressed against him. “Besides, if I’m hopeless, it’s because of you.”

I rolled my eyes, laughing as I playfully shoved his chest. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he shot back, dipping his head until his nose brushed against mine.

Before I could respond, he pulled back slightly, his gaze softening. “Can I get you something? A drink, maybe?”

“A drink sounds perfect,” I said, following him into the kitchen.

The kitchen was as unassuming as the living room—sleek countertops, minimal clutter, save for a lone mug on the island that read “#1 Driver.”

He opened the fridge, glancing over his shoulder. “What’s your poison? Wine, something stronger, or one of my world-famous gin and tonics?”

I leaned against the counter, arching a brow. “World-famous, huh? Should I be honored?”

“Extremely,” he said with a straight face, pulling out a bottle of gin and setting it on the counter with a flourish. “You’re about to experience greatness.”

I laughed, watching as he moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, humming along to the music still drifting in from the other room. There was something magnetic about the way he moved—relaxed, confident, unapologetically himself.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” I said as he handed me a finished drink, complete with a perfectly sliced lime wedge on the rim.

“Maybe,” he admitted, clinking his glass gently against mine. “But only because I finally get to show you my world.”

I took a sip, savoring the crisp, refreshing taste. “Not bad,” I said with an approving nod.

“Not bad?” He clutched his chest dramatically. “That’s the best gin and tonic you’ll ever have.”

I laughed, setting my glass down and grabbing his hand. “Okay, Mr. World-Famous Bartender. Show me what else this place has to offer.”

“Gladly,” he replied, intertwining our fingers and gently nudging me so my back hit the kitchen island. “But first, there’s one rule.”

“Oh?” I asked, arching a brow. “What’s that?”

“Tonight, you let me show you exactly how beautiful you are—and how absolutely crazy you make me,” he said, caging me between his arms.

My brain short-circuited, imagining what he’d look like if he turned the yearning up just a bit more. I’d probably combust right then and there.

---------------

Lando’s POV

The daze in her eyes brought out a siren-like allure, making my brain spiral with questions about everything that had led to this moment. Her gaze wasn’t pleading for me to take control—it was imagining how good I’d look on my knees for her.

My eyes flicked between hers, smoldering with lust, and her pink-tinted lips, practically begging for my attention.

My arms stayed firmly in place, caging her in. “You’re such a naughty girl, you know that?” I murmured, a grin spreading across my face, helpless against the pull of her energy.

“What did I do?” she shot back, her expression a mix of mock shock and amusement, barely holding back her laughter. “You’re the one pinning me here like a prisoner.”

I leaned in closer, my lips brushing against the curve of her ear. “But you’re the one with those eyes,” I whispered, my voice low and teasing, “practically begging for me to get on my knees and let you have me in any way you want.”

Her breath hitched at my words, her cheeks flushing a shade deeper as my voice hung in the charged air between us. For a moment, she didn’t reply, her lips parting slightly, betraying her effort to keep control of the situation.

She tilted her chin up, regaining just enough composure to fire back, “Maybe I am. But are you brave enough to follow through?” Her tone was bold, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her excitement.

I chuckled softly, the sound rumbling low in my chest. “Oh, sweetheart,” I murmured, my lips brushing her earlobe again, “you have no idea how far I’m willing to go for you.”

Without waiting for a reply, I loosened my hold, my hands sliding down to rest at her hips. Slowly, I began to sink to my knees, keeping my eyes locked on hers. The moment was deliberate, unhurried, as if I had all the time in the world to unravel her. I want to unravel her, make her desire explode in ways she didn’t know she could.

Her breath quickened, her chest rising and falling in time with the pounding of her heart. She leaned back slightly against the counter for support, her fingers gripping the edge as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded.

“Still think I’m just talking big?” I teased, my voice husky as I placed a feather-light kiss on the inside of her wrist, trailing lower with each touch.

Her lips parted again, but no words came out—just a shaky exhale that sent a jolt of satisfaction straight through me.

Her fingers found their way into my hair, tugging lightly, testing how much control she could claim. I let her have it, for now, leaning into her touch as I kissed my way up her arm. Slowly, I raised her leg, placing her heel gently on my lap, the slit of her dress parting to reveal my next target. My lips moved from the arch of her foot, still adorned in her heels, climbing slowly up her thigh. I left wet, circular patterns with my tongue, just a hint of what my mouth was capable of, teasing her with the promise of what was yet to come. My fingers followed, brushing along her skin with a deliberate slowness, savoring the softness of her skin on my lips.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” she finally whispered, her voice thick with anticipation.

I grinned against her skin, my hands tightening slightly on her thigh as I pulled her closer. “Good,” I replied, my tone dripping with mischief. “I like living on the edge.”

And the thought of letting the night unravel like this sent a shiver down my spine, igniting a thrill that was all too evident in the tightening of my jeans. I was resolute—ready to give her exactly what she craved, and perhaps even push her boundaries just enough to leave her breathless.

“Tell me,” she said, her voice low and commanding. “Should I have you eat my pussy out right here, right now? Or do you want to show me just how much of a good boy you can be for me?” She leaned forward, locking eyes with me, her fingers gently lifting my chin to meet her gaze.

Her dominant tone washed over me, stirring something deep within. All I could think about was touching her, tasting the heat of her desire.

“As you wish, my princess,” I whisper, my voice strained with hunger. “I’m yours to command.” My breath hitched, each word leaving my lips heavier with need, though I fought to maintain my composure, desperately trying not to let my desires slip through.

“Well then” she stands up straight as she grips the back of my hair just a bit tighter, gesturing to me to stand up as well.

She stepped closer to me, and unbuttons my shirt slowly, letting her finger tips brush over my chest with a wave of heat and electricity that made my cock twitch.

I could only grovel for so long before I bailed on the whole thing. I wanted to grab her hips, place my throbbing cock at her entrance and lose myself in her until the neighbors came knocking at my door, wondering who was being murdered and expecting me to be the killer.

I took a deep breath, allowing myself to relax and embrace my vulnerability. I trusted her completely, and she sensed it.

With a swift motion, she slid my shirt off, letting it drop to the floor. Hooking her index finger inside the waistband of my pants, she guided me down the hallway toward the front door, where a large body mirror stood against the wall.

She released me momentarily to fetch a chair from the dining room just a few steps away. I watched her every movement, my desire for her touch intensifying. She positioned the chair in front of the mirror and sat upon it like a queen on her throne, as if it had been hers since the dawn of time.

“Well, my sweet boy, I want you to show me what your tongue can do before I decide if you’ve been good enough to taste my pleasure,” she purred, her voice dripping with seduction. She spread her legs, inviting me to kneel between them, then slid the straps of her dress down to her waist, exposing her toned breasts to my eager gaze.

My mouth watered at the sight, and all I could manage was a low, husky, “Yes, princess,” before my hands found her hips, and I began to suck and lick her nipples, savoring every moment.

heightened my desire as I marked her skin with bite marks and hickeys, each one igniting the fire between us.

“Fuck, baby, with the way you’re working your mouth, I might just want to use it all night,” she breathed, her words thick with lust as she tangled her fingers in my hair.

“You can use my mouth however you want, princess. You can even sit on it, and I’ll show you real talent,” I managed to whisper between kisses, my tongue flicking and teasing her nipples, eager to please her in every way.

“Well then, I might just take you up on that offer,” she said, grabbing my head and guiding me to lay on the floor in front of her. For a moment, I forgot she was facing the mirror.

She stood up, sliding her dress and panties down, leaving her clad only in heels. As she stepped by my face, I was treated to a perfect view of her glistening wetness hovering above me.

My tongue instinctively began to escape my mouth as she looked down, tilting her head with a playful smirk.

“Aw, is my sweet boy begging for a taste?” she teased, her tone a mix of pouting and mockery.

“Yes, princess, I need you,” I replied, my voice thick with lust and longing.

“Well then, show me,” she commanded, sinking to her knees and positioning her arousal over my mouth, her fingers weaving back into my hair.

Her hips began to grind against my mouth, her creamy arousal coating my tongue as she leaned back, resting a hand on my abs.

A part of me feared she might tease me, trying to slide away from my eager mouth. Without hesitation, I wrapped my arms around her thighs, pulling her hips close and tight against me.

The sound of her moans growing louder was music to my ears. “Fuck, princess, you taste so good; I want to devour you,” I murmured, my voice muffled as I pressed my tongue deeper into her, savoring every moment.

A part of me was curious how loud I could make her moan my name, imagining a tongue as wicked as venom the villain’s, but that was a fantasy that had no place in my mind at this moment.

I could feel her legs shaking as the first orgasm of the night washed over her.

“Fuck, Lando—” her words were swallowed by a moan as she rode out her high.

I didn’t want to stop, but I knew she would crave something a little… deeper.

“Fuck, princess, if I had known you were such a good rider, I would have let you take control from the first moment I saw you.” A smirk spread across my face, unable to hide the satisfaction and desire swelling within me, both emotionally and physically.

“Fuck, Lando, I’ve never felt this good,” she breathed, her voice heavy with drained adrenaline and satisfaction. A mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes as she added, “And you know what?”

She slid back to sit on my abdomen, allowing me to prop myself up slightly to meet her gaze with a questioning look.

“I want to try something new,” she said, her eyes locking onto mine with a playful innocence that hinted at her intentions.

“Which is?” I leaned in, craving the touch of her lips. Y/N moved closer, kissing me softly before teasingly licking the corner of my mouth, catching an escaped drop of her essence.

“Mmm, I do taste good. Anyway, I was thinking maybe you could train me on something,” a smirk blossomed on her lips.

“Why are you being so cryptic, princess?” I replied, my curiosity piqued as a smirk formed on my face. “You know I’ll be your good boy for the night; anything you want is a yes from me.”

“Well, I was thinking we could try…” Her cheeks flushed deeper as she leaned in to whisper her request in my ear, “anal training.”

Her voice was hot against my skin, and I could barely process what she had just said. My shocked expression spoke volumes, my thoughts racing faster than I could articulate.

She leaned back, her cheeks still flushed. “I mean, it’s a big ask. I would understand if you don’t want to,” a hint of embarrassment crept into her voice, snapping me out of my daze.

“Are you kidding? I really want to, but are you sure you want to do this? There are things we need to prepare for, right?” My mouth rambled on before my brain could catch up, and I noticed the shift in her expression as I spoke.

“Oh, that’s true. Makes sense. But are you actually down to do this later on?” Her face perked up with excitement as she regained her energy.

“Of course, but for now, use me as you need,” a soft smirk crossed my face. “You know, I’m totally down if you want to sit on my face again.” A small chuckle spilled from her mouth.

“Nope, now I want you to lead me to your room to show those walls some action.” She stood up and grabbed my hand.

---------------

Y/N's POV

With Lando’s fingers intertwined with mine, he leads the way up a black-and-white staircase with glass sides. Automated lights brighten the hallway, revealing a few guest rooms that appear unoccupied, along with a space that seems designed for gaming and recording, illuminated by vibrant LED lights. Towards the end of the hall, a door is slightly ajar.

“So, care to stay the night?” Lando glances back at me.

“Maybe another time. I just need to check on you and head home before the girls think I’ve been kidnapped or worse,” I say, winking at him with a cheeky smile.

A grin spreads across his face, sending butterflies in my stomach into a frenzy. In less than a second, Lando sweeps me up by my hips and tosses me over his shoulder like a bag of rice.

Part of me is too confused to register what’s happening, while another part can’t help but let out a constant giggle, wondering, What the heck are you doing?

Do I like this? Is this what it means to be manhandled?

His arm wraps around my waist to stabilize me as I struggle to gather my thoughts. Suddenly, I feel a sharp sting on my cheek, followed by a playful smack on my bare ass that sends my arousal soaring to a whole new level.

“You're moving way too slowly,” Lando says, trying to justify his actions. “And the spank was for teasing me so much tonight.”

Before I could respond with a playful act of revenge, his free hand began to explore my wet core. Each delicate touch on my clit made my back arch, and my fingers dug into his muscular back, leaving red lines as reminders of the moment.

“And that… is for being so damn irresistible” Lando’s voice low and soft as he places a soft kiss on my thigh, sending a shiver through my body from the tingling sensation.

I had expected him to hurry into the room, but with his touch igniting my skin, a moan escaped me, stretching the moment into what felt like an eternity.

Once we reached his room, he wasted no time, tossing me onto his bed. Lying there, facing him as he stood at the edge, all I could think about was how much I wanted him to keep his promise.

“So, are you enjoying the view this time around?” he asked, a smirk growing on his lips as he shifted his muscular arms to wrap around my thighs, pulling me closer.

“What can I say? I love a Magic Mike preview,” I replied, a giggle escaping my lips mid-movement.

“Oh, I think you paid for the full show. No?” His grin turned mischievous.

If I could read his mind, I’d find only unholy thoughts of what this man intended to do to me, and I was more than willing to oblige.

His lips danced with butterfly kisses across my stomach, moving up to my breasts, while his fingers explored every inch of my body, sending electric shocks that would make f(x) nostalgic, and made me beg for more.

His lips found my nipple, swirling it with his tongue while he massaged my other breast with his hand.

“Fuck, I’ve dreamed of this exact scenario,” Lando murmured, his voice melting into my chest.

“Really? Tell me about it,” I replied, tangling my fingers in his hair and gripping ever so slightly.

“That first night… when I saw you in the mirror,” he said, his voice husky and low between kisses and licks.

His words sent shivers down my spine, igniting a thrill that made the wetness between my legs even more intense.

“I was sitting on the bed, watching you, fucking yourself. Just imagine how good your moans would sound if your hand wasn’t covering your mouth.” His words drip with lust as hickeys and bruises form on my sensitive skin.

“Did you just watch me, or did you do something?” I needed to know the answer, aware that either response would make me crave him inside me instantly.

“I wanted to pretend I hadn’t seen anything, but I couldn’t. All I could think about was how badly I wanted you on my cock. I started touching my cock, watching you get that dildo inside you and out.” he continued.

“Fuck, I need more, fuck me Lan, I need you” My voice was laced with desperation as I tugged a little harder on his hair.

“Are we already begging?” A smirk grew on his lips as he positioned himself at my entrance, thrusting into my pussy, which wrapped tightly around his cock.

His movements made my back arch, and I gripped the sheets so hard they felt like they might rip, aching for every inch of him to feel my desire.

As he thrust into me with rough, needy motions, he pressed his palm against my lower stomach and began rubbing my clit with his thumb, driving me closer to the edge. The static energy coursing through my body was intense as I struggled to hold back my climax.

“That’s it, princess,” he murmured, his voice intoxicating like whiskey. “You’re so close; I can feel your pussy tightening around me.”

My body was unable to respond as I felt his hand leave my clit, moving up to wrap around my jaw, forcing my mouth open with his cum-covered thumb.

“Look at me, Y/N.” His breath burned on my skin as he placed a hickey on my neck, marking his territory. “I want to see you in the eyes when you’re cumming all over my cock, like a good little slut.”

His words brought me to the brink, and I struggled to meet his gaze, locking my eyes onto his. Lando’s thrusts softened as I rode the waves of my orgasm, shaking and gripping the sheets for dear life, moaning his name so loudly that I could see his grin widening in response.

After a few more thrusts, Lando leaned onto the bed, hovering over me. I felt his warmth as he released himself inside me, each pulse sending shockwaves through my body. To my surprise, he didn’t pull away; instead, he let our essence drip and overflow around him, igniting a deeper desire within me.

As our bodies began to untangle, Lando resumed his rhythm, sending my already sensitive body into a state of overwhelming pleasure. “Lando, what—” My words faltered, lost in the sensations coursing through me.

“Sluts receive rewards for being good girls, no?” Lando’s mischievous grin was unmistakable, his eyes sparkling with playful dominance.

My hand grasped his arm as his body hovered over mine. I placed tender kisses along his veins, feeling the warmth pulse beneath my lips. With each thrust, he moved faster and deeper, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me, making me see stars.

“Fuck, baby, plea—” I was caught in a whirlwind of desire, unsure if I was begging him to continue or pleading for him to stop, and the latter felt impossible.

Lando's hand roamed down my body, intensifying the already overwhelming sensation into an agonizing pressure.

As soon as his fingers found their way to my sensitive clit, my body twitched involuntarily.

Just then, a slightly muffled voice crept in from the window, but my mind struggled to grasp its meaning.

The overstimulation faded as I realized that Lando had stopped, standing still and listening to the voices outside. Panic set in when I recognized Liana and Aaliyah; and they were looking for me.

“She didn’t say she was going anywhere, did she?” Aaliyah’s voice grew thick with worry.

My eyes widened at the realization that they were most definitely freaking out, and my phone was downstairs, blaring at full volume. If I could hear their voices all the way from here, they would surely recognize the distinct ringtone, muffled yet unmistakable, signaling that I was at the house next door.

began to frantically pull myself off the bed, ready to rush downstairs, slip on my dress, and come up with a convincing lie about why I was wearing it and where my laptop had gone. Just then, Lando’s hand grabbed my arm, pulling me close into a bareback hug.

“Princess, I know you need to leave, but the dress will be hard to explain,” he murmured, his voice soft against my skin.

“Then what do you suggest I do, go naked?” A chuckle escaped my lips, the absurdity of the situation hitting me.

“Even though I’d love to see you walking naked in the street, dripping with my cum, I wouldn’t want to pluck the eyes out of every man who dares to look at you.” His arms tightened around me as he placed a passionate kiss on my neck.

“Come with me. Let’s get you something to wear.” Lando began leading the way into his walk-in closet.

As he rummaged through his drawers, he pulled out an oversized black hoodie emblazoned with his company’s logo, “Quadrant,” in graffiti-style neon colors. I could only guess it was either a limited edition or from an upcoming collection.

He handed me the hoodie, and I eagerly awaited the moment he would offer me a pair of pants or something similar, giving him an inquiring look.

“I think this hoodie should be long enough for you to consider it a dress,” a slight smirk broke across his face.

“Absolutely not! It won’t even cover my ass fully; I need pants… or at least shorts.” I slipped the hoodie over my body and glanced at myself in the mirror, assessing how much coverage I would actually get.

I turned to him, the fabric hanging loosely around my frame, barely grazing my thighs. “See? This is not going to work,” I said, trying to suppress a smile at the absurdity of the situation.

Lando stepped closer, his gaze lingering on me with undeniable heat. “Actually, I think it looks incredible on you. You won’t need joggers; that hoodie is doing all the work.”

“But my ass is going to show! I can’t just walk out li—” My brain raced with anxiety over every aspect of our current situation.

“Come on, princess,” he urged, his voice low and soothing. “Just put it on. If it’s actually too short, I’ll give you some pants or even my briefs to wear.” He gave me a reassuring look, his confidence radiating and hoping to calm my nerves.

His words sent a thrill through me, and I found myself wavering, caught between embarrassment and the excitement of his bold suggestion.

After a few minutes of deliberation, I finally decided to wear one of Lando’s boxer briefs under the hoodie. I walked to the front entrance where the intimate part of our night had begun, collecting my panties and dress from the floor.

“Leave these here; I’ll drop them off another day so it doesn’t look suspicious,” Lando said, his voice low and husky as he leaned in, placing soft butterfly kisses along my neck.

“I have to go talk to the girls,” I murmured, my voice betraying a hint of anxiety.

Yet all I truly wanted was to skip ahead to the moment when the girls knew everything, and I could spend the night wrapped in his arms, feeling safe and desired.

I tried to take long, steady breaths as I approached the front door of our house. When I attempted to creak the door open, I found it locked, leaving me with no choice but to face the girls right here and now.

After a few seconds of gathering my courage, I rang the doorbell. I could hear Aaliyah’s frantic voice rushing to the door. “I’ll get it! That might be her!”

As soon as she opened the door and let me in, her eyes scanned my disheveled appearance and the messy state of my hair.

“Where were you? We were so worried! Liana was just about to call the police to file a missing persons report.”

I let out a slight chuckle, trying to sound as natural as possible. “Come on, I just went for a little walk and didn’t want to disturb your movie.”

Aaliyah’s expression said it all; she didn’t believe me, and rightfully so. I was just hoping she wouldn’t see through my facade in this moment.

Just as I thought I might escape Aaliyah's scrutiny, Liana appeared from the living room, her eyebrows raised in curiosity. “What’s going on? Why do you look like you just ran a marathon?”

Aaliyah crossed her arms, a knowing smile creeping onto her face. “Yeah, Liana. I was just asking her where she’s been. I think she snuck out to see someone.”

My heart raced, and I quickly shook my head. “Wha—no way! I just went for a walk to clear my head. Seriously, you guys are overreacting. I just needed a break from the project.”

Liana stepped closer, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Come on, Y/N. You can tell us if you were with someone. We won’t judge… for the most part.”

Heat crept up my cheeks. “I promise, it was nothing like that! I just needed some fresh air,” I insisted, trying to sound convincing.

Liana’s gaze closed in on me, knowing she had solid evidence regarding my movie-ditching offense. “Yeah? Then where’s the laptop, huh?”

After a slight moment of hesitation, I managed to speak, my voice an octave higher than usual. “Well, it’s in my room. I came in during the movie and then left again. I wasn’t going to take it with me on the walk.”

Aaliyah leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You sure it wasn’t a special someone? Because you’re acting a little too suspicious.”

“Absolutely not! I swear, I’m just tired and wanted to be alone for a bit,” I replied, forcing a laugh to lighten the mood. But inside, I was a bundle of nerves, praying they wouldn’t see through my lies.

Liana exchanged a glance with Aaliyah, both of them clearly unconvinced. “Alright, but if we find out you’re hiding something, we’re going to need all the juicy details,” Liana teased, her smile widening.

I took a deep breath, silently relieved that they hadn’t pressed further. “Fine, but there’s nothing to find. Can we just drop it?”

Liana crossed her arms, still eyeing me with playful suspicion. “You know we’re not going to let this go that easily, right? You can’t just waltz in here looking all flustered and fucked out of your mind and expect us to believe you were just out for a stroll.”

Aaliyah chimed in, her expression teasing yet serious. “Yeah, we’re your friends! It’s our job to investigate. So… Do you have anything to say, young lady?”

I let out a chuckle. “I appreciate the investigation, but it’s not necessary. I’ll definitely report to the CIA and FBI that you two have done a magnificent job with your investigative procedures.”

I managed to sneak away to my room once they got engrossed in another movie.

98 notes · View notes

brunchable · 6 months ago

Text

The Stakeout: Day 2 || Steve Rogers x Agent!FReader.

Day One | Day Three

Words: 8.2K Themes/Warnings: Steve checking you out non-stop. Unspoken feelings towards each other. Growing tension. Sexual Attraction. Eventual Smut. Being stuck with each other. Summary: Your touch is light, barely there, but it sends a shockwave through him. He freezes, his breath catching as you traces a slow, lazy line down the front of his shirt, your eyes never leaving his. There’s a playful challenge in your gaze, like you're daring him to react, to give in to the tension that’s been building between you.

Night has fallen, casting long shadows across the grimy streets as you and Steve sit across from each other in the dimly lit apartment.

You’re dressed in black, your face partially covered by a mask, ready for the mission ahead. Steve’s expression is serious, his blue eyes sharp as they skim over the map laid out on the rickety table.

“We got orders to plant bugs in the building across the street,” Steve begins, “You’ll handle the lower floors, I’ll take the upper ones. We need to aim to be in and out in under fifteen minutes.”

You nod, the plan clear in your mind, but it’s hard to ignore the way your pulse quickens when he looks at you.

“Got it, Captain,” you reply, trying to keep your voice light. “You know, I’ve always loved a good stealth mission. Nothing like risking life and limb in the dead of night.”

Steve’s lips twitch into a faint smile, but he’s already moving, checking his gear. “Just stay sharp.”

“Always do,” you mutter under your breath, following him out the door.

The streets are deserted as you approach the target building, the only sounds the distant hum of the city and the soft crunch of gravel under your boots. The night air is cool, but it does nothing to quell the restless energy buzzing under your skin. You can’t help but steal glances at Steve as you move—he’s so composed, so controlled. It’s infuriating how he can make everything look so easy, even when you know it’s not.

When you reach the building, Steve signals for you to stop. You crouch beside him, your shoulders brushing as you wait for his command.

“Ready?” Steve whispers, his voice low and steady.

You nod, the seriousness of the mission settling over you like a weight. Steve gives a quick nod in return, then signals for you to move. You both slip into the building through a side entrance, the door creaking softly as it closes behind you.

Inside, the building is dimly lit, shadows clinging to the corners. You and Steve split up as planned, your footsteps nearly silent on the worn carpet as you head for the lower floors. Every instinct tells you to stay alert, but it’s hard to shake the lingering thoughts of last night—the way Steve’s presence felt so close, so overwhelming.

“Focus, Y/N,” you whisper-sang to yourself, shaking off the distraction as you plant the first bug. “This isn’t the time to be daydreaming.”

As you move through the building, planting bugs with ease, you can’t help but let your mind wander. It’s always been this way with Steve—this push and pull between professionalism. You’ve always prided yourself on keeping things light, using humor to deflect, but lately, it’s been harder to keep that distance.

As you finish planting the last bug, a sudden sound makes you freeze. Footsteps—coming from above. Your heart skips a beat as you listen, trying to determine where they’re coming from. They’re too close for comfort, and you quickly slip into a nearby alcove, pressing yourself against the wall.

Just as the footsteps draw nearer, you feel a hand close around your wrist, pulling you further into the shadows. You nearly gasp, but you recognize the grip, the presence.

It’s Steve.

He pulls you close, his body pressing against yours to shield you as the footsteps echo past the alcove, the shadows hiding you both from sight. The space is tight, forcing you to be impossibly close. Steve’s broad frame hides you completely, his chest rising and falling just inches from your own.

You pay attention to his warmth, the strength in the arms that cage you in, protecting you from the unknown threat just beyond the alcove. Your pulse quickens, not just from the danger, but from the way his body feels against yours.

You try to keep your breathing steady, focusing on the situation, but it’s almost impossible when you can feel every breath he takes, when the scent of his cologne fills your senses. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you can hear it, you’re pretty sure he can hear it too.

His eyes dart down to meet yours, and in the dim light, he studies your features up close—closer than he’s ever allowed himself to before. The curve of your lips behind the mask, the way your eyelashes brush against it as you blink, the subtle flush on your skin from the adrenaline—it all captivates him in a way he didn’t expect.

“Stay still,” he whispers his voice an octave deeper, so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

You nod, swallowing hard as you force yourself to stop daydreaming about him.

“What?” You whispered, feeling the weight of his stare.

“Shhhh.”

Steve continues to study your face, memorizing every detail in the dim light. He knows he needs to move, to shift away before the moment becomes too charged, but for just a few more seconds, he allows himself this small indulgence—this brief moment of letting his guard down in your presence.

The footsteps grow fainter, the danger passing, but Steve doesn’t move right away. He stays close. You’re too focused on keeping your breathing steady to notice the way his gaze softens.

Finally, Steve pulls back just enough to give you space, though the tension remains thick and heavy. He clears his throat, forcing himself to focus.

“That was close,” he murmurs, his voice steadier now, though there’s a lingering softness in his tone.

“Who? us or the enemy?” you whisper back, your voice barely audible as you try to regain your composure. Your heart is still racing, but you chalk it up to the near-miss, to the adrenaline of the mission.

Steve huffs, “You know what I mean.”

Just as you’re about to make your way back to the exit, the sound of more footsteps stops you in your tracks. These are heavier, more deliberate, and they’re getting closer. You and Steve exchange a glance, the same realization hitting you both at the same time: you’ve been compromised.

“Run,” Steve says, his voice low but firm. There’s no hesitation, no time for anything but action.

You take off, your footsteps echoing in the empty hallways as you race for the nearest exit. The sound of pursuit is right behind you, the men who’ve been tailing you now closing in. Your heart pounds in your chest, adrenaline surges through your veins as you push yourself to move faster and try to avoid bullets as they fire away aimlessly.

“Stay close!” Steve shouts over his shoulder, leading the way down a twisting corridor. You follow without question, your mind racing as you try to anticipate your next move.

The hallways seem to stretch on forever, every turn leading to another identical passageway. You’re not sure how long you’ve been running, but you can feel the burn in your legs, the sting of sweat in your eyes. The footsteps behind you are relentless, growing louder with every second.

Finally, Steve skids to a stop in front of a heavy door, pushing it open with a grunt of effort.

“In here!”

You dive through the door, Steve right behind you, and he slams it shut just as the men round the corner. The door shudders under the impact as they try to force it open, but it holds—for now.

You and Steve find yourselves in what looks like a storage room, shelves lined with dusty boxes and old equipment. The only light comes from a single flickering bulb overhead, casting long shadows across the floor.

“This way,” Steve says, nodding towards a narrow staircase in the corner. “It should lead to the roof.”

You nod, following him up the stairs as quickly as your tired legs will carry you. The staircase is steep, the steps creaking ominously under your weight, but you don’t stop, even as your breath comes in ragged gasps.

At the top, you burst out onto the roof, the cool night air hitting you like a slap in the face. The city sprawls out below you, the streets quiet and still, but you know it won’t be long before the men catch up.

“Over here!” Steve calls, leading you to the edge of the roof. You follow him, your heart pounding in your chest as you look down at the alleyway below. The drop is steep, the kind that makes your stomach lurch, but there’s no time to hesitate.

“We need to jump,” Steve says, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. He glances at you, his blue eyes filled with determination. “I’ll go first. You follow right after. Don’t wait.”

You nod, swallowing your fear. “Right behind you.”

Without another word, Steve takes a few steps back, then runs toward the edge, leaping off the roof with the kind of grace only he could manage. For a split second, you watch him sail through the air before landing on the roof of the next building, rolling to absorb the impact. He’s up quickly, turning to face you, motioning for you to follow.

You take a deep breath, backing up to get a running start. The rooftop blurs as you push off, launching yourself into the air. For a heart-stopping moment, you’re weightless, suspended between two buildings with nothing but the hard pavement far below. Then, with a jarring thud, you land on the other side, your knees buckling slightly as you hit the ground. Steve’s hand is there to catch you before you can stumble.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice filled with concern, though there’s no time to linger on it.

You nod quickly, trying to catch your breath. “Yeah… but seriously, Steve,” you gasp, leaning against the wall of the rooftop for support, “do you ever just... slow down? It’s like trying to keep up with a human freight train.”

Steve chuckles softly, the tension easing just a fraction. “Sorry, I’m used to running at a different pace.”

You shake your head, still panting. “Yeah, well, next time, maybe give the rest of us mere normal person a heads up before you go full throttle.”

He smirks, but the levity is short-lived as the sound of boots pounding against the rooftop behind you snaps you both back to reality. The men are right on your tail, and you need to keep moving.

Steve grabs your hand, pulling you across the roof toward a fire escape on the far side. The two of you race down the metal stairs, your feet clanging loudly against the steps as you descend. The sound is deafening in the stillness of the night, but you don’t have the luxury of stealth anymore.

By the time you reach the alleyway below, your legs are burning, and your lungs feel like they’re on fire. But you keep moving, Steve’s hand still gripping yours as he leads you through the narrow streets. The city is eerily quiet, the shadows deep and menacing under the dim streetlights.

“Almost there,” Steve mutters, more to himself than to you.

You don’t know where he’s leading you, but you trust him. You’ve always trusted him. Even now, with your heart pounding and your mind racing, you know he’ll get you out of this.

As you round a corner, Steve suddenly pulls you into a small alleyway, pressing you against the wall as he checks the street ahead. His body is close, too close—again—and for a moment, you ask the gods what acts of kindness have you done to deserve this as a prize?

“Focus,” you silently remind yourself, forcing your thoughts back to the mission, back to the danger that’s still looming over you.

But it’s hard—so damn hard—when Steve is this close, when every nerve in your body is hyper-aware of his presence. The tension between you is electric, charged with everything you’ve been trying so hard to ignore.

Steve peeks out from the alcove, scanning the area for any sign of your pursuers. When he’s satisfied that the coast is clear, he turns back to you, his expression softening for just a moment.

“We’re almost there. Just a little further.”

You nod, your voice caught in your throat. Steve’s gaze lingers on you for a beat longer, as if he wants to say something, but then he pulls away, the moment gone as quickly as it came.

He leads you through a series of twists and turns, until finally, you reach what looks like an abandoned warehouse on the edge of the city. Steve pulls open a rusted door, motioning for you to go inside. You slip in, the darkness swallowing you up as Steve follows, closing the door behind him.

Inside, the warehouse is cold and musty, the air thick with dust. It’s a far cry from the safe house you were expecting, but right now, it feels like a sanctuary. You both take a moment to catch your breath, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

“God, Steve,” you pant, leaning over with your hands on your knees, trying to suck in as much air as possible. “Next time, could you at least give me a piggyback?”

“A piggyback?” Steve chuckles, the sound low and rich, and for a moment, it cuts through the tension, easing the tightness in your chest.

You smirk, despite the burning in your lungs. “I’d say it’s worth a shot.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Steve shakes his head, still smiling, but there’s a flicker in his eyes, like you just gave him permission to act.

“Steve, I—”

But before you can finish, a loud crash echoes through the warehouse, cutting you off. Your heart jumps into your throat as you both spin around, searching for the source of the noise.

“Stay here,” Steve orders, his voice tense as he moves toward the noise.

You nod, watching him disappear into the shadows. The fear that you thought you’d shaken off earlier comes rushing back, but you force yourself to stay calm, to trust that Steve will handle whatever’s out there.

Seconds feel like hours as you wait, your ears straining to pick up any sound, any sign of Steve. But the warehouse remains eerily quiet, the silence only broken by the occasional creak of the old building settling.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Steve reappears, his expression grim. “It was nothing—just some old crates falling over. We’re still clear.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, relief washing over you. But the tension is still there, gnawing at the edges of your mind, reminding you that you’re not out of the woods yet.

“Let’s get some rest,” Steve suggests, though you can tell he’s still on high alert. “We’ll head back to the apartment at midnight.”

You nod, though the idea of rest feels impossible right now. Still, you follow his lead, settling down on a makeshift bed of old blankets and crates. Steve takes up a position near the door, keeping watch as you try to rest.

× × × ×

At midnight, you and Steve make your way through the quiet, shadowed streets back to the apartment, the tension of the night starts to ease, replaced by a more playful energy. The cool night air nips at your skin, and the adrenaline from the chase has left you feeling both drained and energized. Steve walks beside you, his presence steady and calming, even as your mind starts to drift into lighter thoughts.

You stretch your legs as you walk, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Y’know, thanks to you, my legs feel like I’ve done three thousand squats. I could really use a piggyback ride,” you add with a playful grin.

Steve glances at you, a smirk playing on his lips. “Oh, is that right? And here I thought you were keeping up just fine.”

“Keeping up?” you scoff, still grinning. “I was practically dragged to keep up with your super-soldier speed. My legs are gonna need a week to recover.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to suffer. The offer for that piggyback ride still stands.” Steve chuckles, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I’m just kidding, Steve. You don’t actually need to—”

But before you can finish, Steve stops in his tracks, turning to face you, “No, no, I’m serious. If your legs are really that tired, hop on. I’ve carried heavier loads before.”

“Steve, I was joking. I can walk just fine.” You raise an eyebrow, caught off guard by his sincerity.

He crosses his arms, clearly not backing down. “Well, maybe I’m not joking. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his persistence. “Are you really going to make me do this?”

“I’m not making you do anything,” he replies with a grin. “I’m just offering. Besides, I’d hate to see you struggle to keep up with me.”

You give him a playful shove, still grinning. “You really don’t know how to take a joke, do you?”

Steve smirks, taking a step closer. “I take jokes just fine. But I’m also a man of my word. So, are you going to let me give you a ride, or are you going to keep pretending your legs aren’t tired?”

You hesitate for a moment, but the playful challenge in his eyes makes it impossible to resist. “You’re really not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” he says, turning around and crouching slightly. “Just get on.”

With a dramatic sigh and a smile, you finally give in, climbing onto his back and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. The warmth of his body against yours is more comforting than you’d like to admit, and you can’t help but smile as he straightens up with ease.

“See? I told you,” Steve says as he starts walking again, his tone light but with an underlying flirtation. “This isn’t so bad, is it?”

“Fine, I’ll admit it,” you tease, resting your chin on his shoulder. “This is pretty nice. But don’t get used to it, Rogers. I still prefer running on my own two feet.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his back. “We’ll see about that. You might start asking for a piggyback every time.”

You laugh softly, enjoying the easy banter. “In your dreams, Cap. I’m only letting you do this because you insisted.”

He smirks, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “Well, I’m glad you let me. I’d hate to see you struggle to keep up with me.”

You playfully tighten your grip on his shoulders, leaning in close to his ear. “Next time, I’m leaving you in the dust.”

“We’ll see about that,” he replies, his voice warm with amusement.

As you approach the apartment building, you almost wish the walk was longer. The playful bickering and the closeness are a welcome change from the tension of the night. When Steve finally stops just outside the door and gently lets you down, you can’t help but feel a little disappointed that it’s over.

“Thanks for the lift, Rogers,” you say with a playful grin, trying to hide how much you actually enjoyed the brief closeness.

“Anytime,” he replies, his tone light but his gaze lingering on yours for a beat longer.

You both step inside the building, the warmth of the apartment quickly wrapping around you. The tension of the night hasn’t completely disappeared, but as you exchange a small smile with Steve, you feel a little bit lighter, a little bit closer.

STEVE’S POV

As we approach the apartment building, I find myself wishing the walk was longer. The playful bickering, the closeness—it’s a welcome distraction from everything else, but it’s also a reminder of how much has changed, how much I’ve tried to hide. And how much I can’t deny it anymore.

It wasn’t always like this between us. I remember the first time I met Y/N, and how she immediately stood out in a room full of voices. She was late to a briefing, but instead of slipping in quietly, she walked in with a confidence that turned heads. She made a sharp comment that silenced the room, and I remember thinking how different she was from anyone I’d ever met. She was funny, witty, never afraid to challenge anyone, not even me. It was refreshing, seeing someone who wasn’t intimidated by the title of Captain America, someone who saw me as just another person in the room.

But it wasn’t just that. There’s a lightness to her, a kind of effortless grace that makes everything seem easier. She’s the kind of person who can make you forget about the weight of the world, if only for a moment. Her laugh—God, her laugh—is like music, the kind that seeps into your soul and makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, things will be okay. And her smile… her smile could brighten even the darkest day. It’s not just a smile, it’s a promise, a silent reassurance that no matter what happens, you’re not alone.

Y/N is the kind of person who can make a room come alive just by walking into it. She’s got this energy about her, this warmth that draws people in, makes them feel like they matter. And when she looks at you—really looks at you—it’s like she sees right through to the core of who you are. It’s disarming, and for someone like me, who’s spent so long building walls, it’s terrifying. But it’s also the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced.

Somewhere along the line, things shifted between us. I started noticing the little things—the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s deep in thought, the way her eyes light up when she talks about something she’s passionate about. I noticed how she can turn a bad day around with just a few words, how she can make me smile even when I don’t want to. And then there are the moments when I catch her looking at me, and I feel something deep inside, something that tells me this is more than just a crush.

It’s more than that. She’s more than that. Y/N is… everything. She’s the person I didn’t know I was waiting for, the one who makes me want to be better, not because I have to, but because she deserves the best of me. There’s something about her that feels like home, something that makes me think maybe, just maybe, I’ve found the person I’m supposed to be with.

But I know the dangers that come with my life. I know what it means to love someone, to let them in, only to lose them. I’ve seen what happens when the people I care about get too close, and the thought of Y/N getting hurt because of me… it’s unbearable.

So, I told myself not to take action, not to let these feelings grow—but where did that take me? I tried to keep things professional, to remind myself of what’s at stake. But the more time I spend with her, especially on this mission, the harder it becomes to convince myself that keeping my distance is the right choice.

This mission—it’s been pushing us together in ways I didn’t expect. The close calls, the adrenaline, the constant need to rely on each other—it’s making it impossible to keep pretending. Every time I’m with her, I feel my choice slipping away.

When we finally reach the door, I stop and gently let her down. As her feet touch the ground, there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to let go, that doesn’t want this moment to end. I’ve been so focused on the mission, on protecting her, that I haven’t allowed myself to think about what I really want. But in this quiet moment, with her so close, I can’t help but think about it. About her. About us.

“Thanks for the lift, Rogers,” she says with that playful grin that never fails to make my heart skip a beat.

“Anytime,” I reply, trying to keep my tone light, though my gaze lingers on hers for a beat longer than it should. There’s something in her eyes tonight, something that makes me think she might feel the same pull I do, the same connection.

As we step inside the building, the warmth of the apartment wrapping around us, I can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted between us tonight. The tension of the mission, the close calls—they’re all still there, but there’s something else too. Something that’s been building for a while now, something I’m not sure I can keep ignoring.

I know I shouldn’t let myself get distracted, especially not now, but as I catch her eye and we exchange a small smile, I realize I’m not sure I have a choice anymore. Whatever this is, whatever’s growing between us, it’s real. And for the first time in a long time, I’m not sure what to do about it.

But I do know one thing: Y/N is special. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted but never thought I deserved. Maybe, it’s time to stop running from that. Maybe it’s time to stop fighting what’s right in front of me, to let myself feel what I’ve been trying to bury for so long. Because if there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that Y/N is worth the risk. She’s worth everything.

× × × ×

While I was busy adjusting the equipment on the table, the steady rhythm of the water running in the shower fills the small apartment. It’s a comforting sound, something normal in the midst of all the chaos. Y/N’s in there, humming a song—one that I don’t know, but it’s light and carefree, and it brings a smile to my face. It’s hard not to smile when it comes to her.

I try to focus on the task at hand, tightening the screws on a tiny transmitter, but my mind keeps wandering. The past day has been intense, to say the least, and it’s getting harder to keep my thoughts from drifting to Y/N. Especially when she’s just a few feet away, in the bathroom without a door—well, let’s just say it’s seen better days.

That door… I broke it this morning. It was supposed to be a simple thing, something I didn’t even think about. But of course, nothing is simple when you’re me. I was just trying to open it, just a regular, everyday task. But the hinges must’ve been older than I thought, or maybe the wood was rotting—who knows? One gentle push and the entire door gave way with a crack that echoed through the apartment like a gunshot.

Y/N had just stepped out of the kitchen and the look on her face was priceless. She stood there, spatula in hand, staring at me and the door lying on the floor between us. I remember her blinking a few times, as if she couldn’t quite believe what had just happened, and then she burst out laughing—a full, unrestrained laugh that lit up her entire face.

“Steve, you don’t have to knock down doors just because they’re in your way,” she’d teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

I’d tried to stammer out an explanation, but she was too busy laughing, her eyes sparkling with amusement. And honestly, it was worth the embarrassment just to see her like that. Ever since then, the door’s been a lost cause. It’s propped up against the wall in the corner now, like some sad, defeated piece of wood, a constant reminder that maybe I don’t know my own strength—or maybe this apartment just wasn’t built to withstand a super soldier.

Now, with Y/N in the shower, humming away, there’s no door to shield her from the rest of the apartment. I’m doing my best to give her privacy, keeping my eyes firmly on the equipment in front of me, but it’s hard not to think about how thin the walls are, how her humming is the only thing cutting through the silence.

Her humming grows louder for a moment, and I can’t help but smile. She’s singing now, her voice soft and sweet, and I feel that familiar warmth spread through my chest. It’s the same warmth I felt the first time I met her, the same warmth I feel every time she looks at me with those bright, knowing eyes.

I glance over at the door—or what’s left of it—leaning uselessly against the wall. I really should fix it. The water shuts off, and I hear the sound of her moving around in the bathroom—or, well, the bathroom area. My heart does that little skip it’s been doing more and more lately, and I can’t help but wonder if she feels the same way. If she’s thinking about me the way I’m thinking about her.

“Steve?” Her voice cuts through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present.

“Yeah?” I call back, keeping my eyes firmly on the equipment, though I can feel my pulse quickening.

“Everything okay out there? You didn’t break anything else, did you?” she teases, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

“Not this time. Everything’s still in one piece.” I laugh, shaking my head.

“Good to know,” she says, and I can hear the rustling of a towel as she dries off. “You really should do something about that door, though. Not that I mind the view, but it’s a little drafty in here.”

I can’t help but chuckle at that, even as I feel a blush creeping up my neck. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” I say, though we both know it’s probably going to stay propped against the wall for a while longer.

I stand to turn around, assuming that it’s finally safe to—

Damn.

The sight of her stops me dead in my tracks. My eyes land on her, and it feels like the air’s been knocked out of me. She’s wearing a gray tank top that clings to her in all the right places, showing off the subtle curves of her body, and satin pajama shorts that rest low on her hips, the fabric shimmering slightly in the dim light. It’s such a simple outfit, nothing extravagant, but the way she looks in it… I’ve never seen her like this before.

Her hair is still damp, curling slightly at the ends, and the way she’s standing there—casual, completely at ease—only makes her more captivating. The softness of her pajamas contrasts with the confidence in her posture, and I can’t help but let my gaze travel from her bare feet, up her toned legs, to the curve of her waist, and finally, back to her face. She looks so effortlessly beautiful, and I’m struck by just how much she’s getting under my skin.

I must be staring longer than I should, because she catches me. Her eyes lock onto mine, a playful glint in them as she realizes what’s happening.

“You know, Steve,” she says, crossing her arms as she leans against the wall, her voice teasing, “you really should be more careful with those doors. They’re not all built to withstand super soldiers.”

I try to pull myself together, but the grin that’s tugging at my lips is impossible to suppress. “Yeah, I’m starting to get that,” I manage to say, though my voice sounds rougher than I intended.

She narrows her eyes, tilting her head slightly as she steps closer, clearly enjoying the way I’m reacting to her. “What’s the matter, Rogers? Never seen a woman in modern pajamas before?”

I can feel the heat creeping up my neck, and I force myself to meet her gaze, even though every instinct is telling me to look away before I make a fool of myself. “Not like that,” I admit, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

“Not like what?” she asks, her tone playful, but there’s something more in her eyes, something that makes my pulse quicken.

“Not like… you,” I finally say, my voice betraying me as it drops lower.

She grins, clearly amused by my struggle, and then she takes another step closer, her eyes locked on mine. The space between us is too small—this is different from when I caged her against the wall before—and I can feel the warmth radiating off her. She’s close enough now that I can see the way her damp hair clings to her skin, the faint sheen of moisture still on her arms, the way her tank top dips just enough to draw my eye without being obvious.

“You know, Steve,” she says, her voice softening as she reaches out, her fingers lightly grazing the fabric of my shirt, “you’re awfully tense. Maybe you should relax a little.”

Her touch is light, barely there, but it sends a shockwave through me. I freeze, my breath catching as she traces a slow, lazy line down the front of my shirt, her eyes never leaving mine. There’s a playful challenge in her gaze, like she’s daring me to react, to give in to the tension that’s been building between us.

My heart is pounding in my chest, and I can’t seem to find the right words. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and the worst part is, I’m not sure I want her to stop. But I’ve always prided myself on self-control, on being able to keep my emotions in check, and right now, that control is hanging by a thread.

“You’re making it a little hard to focus,” I manage to say, though my voice sounds strained even to my own ears.

“Oh, am I?” she asks, her tone full of innocent curiosity, but her fingers are anything but innocent as they slowly drag down the length of my torso, stopping just above my belt.

She takes another step closer, her body brushing against mine, and I have to fight the urge to reach out, to pull her closer. I can feel the warmth of her breath against my skin, and every muscle in my body is screaming at me to close the gap between us.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm, but it’s no use. She’s got me completely off balance, and she knows it.

“Maybe a little,” she admits, her eyes dancing with mischief as she leans in, her lips dangerously close to my ear. “But it’s just so much fun to see you squirm.”

I swallow hard, my hand coming up almost on its own to rest on her hip, the touch more intimate than I intended. She doesn’t pull away—instead, she seems to lean into it, her body fitting perfectly against mine as if this is where she was meant to be.

“Y/N…” I start, but my voice trails off, lost in the overwhelming sensation of her so close, of her teasing touch, her soft laughter.

“Yes, Steve?” she whispers, her lips grazing my ear ever so slightly, sending a shiver down my spine.

“I…” I’m not even sure what I want to say. My mind is a blur of thoughts and emotions, and all I can think about is how much I want to close the distance between us, how much I want to feel her lips on mine, to see if she tastes as good as she smells, to—

Before I can finish the thought, she pulls back just enough to look up at me, her expression softening as she sees the conflict in my eyes. She reaches up, her hand gently cupping my cheek, and I lean into the touch without thinking.

“It’s okay, Steve,” she says, her voice full of understanding, of warmth. “You don’t always have to be in control.”

For a moment, everything else fades away—the mission, the danger, the risks—and all I can focus on is her. The woman who’s standing in front of me, the one who’s managed to break down my walls piece by piece, the one who’s become so much more than just a partner, more than just a friend.

I don’t know how long we stand there, the world around us disappearing, but eventually, I find my voice again, though it’s barely more than a whisper. “Y/N, I…”

But before I can say anything else, she gives me that teasing smile again and steps back, leaving me standing there, breathless and completely unprepared for whatever just happened.

“Come on, Steve,” she says, her tone light and playful once more. “You’ve got a door to fix, remember?”

I blink, the reality of the situation slowly coming back to me, and I can’t help but laugh, shaking my head in disbelief. “Yeah… right. The door.”

She winks at me, turning to head toward the kitchenette, her laughter echoing softly behind her. “Good luck with that.”

And as I watch her go, I can’t help but wonder just how much longer I can keep pretending that this is all just part of the mission. Because whatever just happened between us—it’s real, and it’s getting harder and harder to resist.

× × × ×

The lights are off, and the room is wrapped in darkness, save for the faint glow of the city outside seeping through the thin curtains. The bed, still small, forces Y/N and me to lie close, though we’re both facing away from each other. Our backs are almost touching, but not quite.

I close my eyes, trying to force myself to sleep, but it’s no use. My mind’s racing, thoughts spinning with the events of the day and the way she teases me and then leaves me hanging.

In the darkness, it’s easier to admit things—to myself, at least. Like how I can’t stop thinking about her, how every time she looks at me, it feels like she’s seeing right through me. How much I wish I could just reach out and close the distance between us, to feel her warmth, to know she’s really there.

But I’m Captain America, and she’s my teammate. I can’t afford to let my guard down, not when there’s so much at stake. So I stay quiet, even as the silence between us grows more unbearable by the second.

Just as I’m about to give up and turn over, I hear her voice, soft and tentative in the darkness. “Steve?”

“Yeah?” I respond, my voice low, almost a whisper.

She hesitates for a moment, and I can hear the uncertainty in her tone when she finally speaks. “Do you ever think about… what happens after all this? After this mission, I mean. We’ve been at this for years.”

I blink, caught off guard by the question. It’s not what I was expecting, but it hits closer to home than I’d like to admit. “Yeah,” I say slowly, choosing my words carefully. “I think about it sometimes.”

“What do you see?” she asks, her voice barely more than a whisper now, like she’s afraid of the answer.

I hesitate, not sure how much to reveal.

“I don’t know,” I admit finally. “Sometimes, I wonder if there’s anything for me after all this. It’s hard to picture a life that doesn’t revolve around being an avenger.”

There’s a pause, and I wonder if I’ve said too much, but then she speaks again, her voice soft and contemplative.

“I think about it too, about what I’d want if I wasn’t… doing this. If I wasn’t constantly in danger, or running from one mission to the next.”

I turn slightly, just enough to see her outline in the darkness, the curve of her shoulder, the way her hair spills over the pillow.

“What do you want, Y/N?” The question slips out before I can stop it, but now that it’s out there, I can’t take it back.

I can almost hear the gears turning in her head as she tries to figure out how much to share. Finally, she sighs, the sound heavy with unspoken thoughts.

“I guess… I want something normal. You know, a place to call home, people who care about me, who I can come back to. Maybe even… someone who makes me feel like I’m more than just a pawn.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected.

“You deserve that, Y/N,” I say quietly, the words slipping out before I can think better of them.

“What about you, Steve? What do you want?” She turns her head slightly, just enough for me to see the outline of her face in the dim light.

It’s a simple question, but it feels like the hardest one I’ve ever been asked. I don’t know how to answer, not really. What do I want? I want. . . what she’s talking about. I want that sense of normalcy, that connection, that feeling of being more than just a symbol, more than just Captain America. But more than anything, I want her.

But I can’t say that. Not now, not here, not when we’re lying in the dark, trying to pretend this is just another mission. So instead, I let the silence stretch between us, hoping she doesn’t push for an answer I’m not ready to give.

“I don’t know,” I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes, I think I’ve been Captain America for so long that I don’t know who I am without it. But… I’d like to find out.”

She doesn’t respond right away, and for a moment, I think maybe she’s drifted off to sleep. But then she shifts slightly, her hand moving closer to mine, just brushing against it. The touch is so light, so tentative, that it sends a jolt through me.

“I think you’d still be Steve Rogers,” she whispers, her voice so soft I almost don’t hear it.

Her words linger in the air, hanging between us like a fragile thread. I want to reach out, to take her hand in mine, to say something, anything, that would bridge the gap between us. But I’m afraid—afraid of what it would mean, afraid of what might happen if I let myself feel what I’m feeling.

And then, as if reading my mind, she asks the question I’ve been dreading. “Is there… someone you like?”

Her question stops me cold, my heart thudding in my chest. Do I tell her now?

“There was someone,” I started slowly, my voice rough, the words catching in my throat. “Peggy… she was important to me. She’ll always hold a special place in my heart. But that was a different time, a different life.”

I can feel her listening intently, her silence encouraging me to continue. But when I try to find the words, it’s harder than I expected. “I've moved on. . .”

I can feel her processing my words, trying to understand what I’m really saying.

“Steve,” she says softly, almost tentatively, “what about now, do you have eyes on someone now?”

“Yes,” I whisper, the word barely audible, but it feels like a confession. “I do.”

There’s a moment of silence, and I feel the tension tighten around us, her breathing shallow beside me. Then she speaks, her voice steady but tinged with something I can’t quite place. “I see… Well, whoever she is, she’s very lucky.”

I want to say something, to tell her that the person I like is right here, lying next to me, but the words stick in my throat. The tension in the room feels almost unbearable, and I’m caught between wanting to tell her everything and fearing what that might mean for us.

She shifts slightly, turning so that our backs aren’t just facing away but are instead lined up against each other, the warmth of her skin seeping into mine.

“Goodnight, Steve,” she whispers.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” I reply, my voice soft, but laced with the emotions I can’t quite express.

× × × ×

I now lie on my back, staring up at the ceiling, trying to will myself to sleep. The mattress is lumpy, the space too small, and my feet are hanging at the edge of the bed. But that's not what's keeping me awake.

It's her. It's Y/N, lying just inches away from me. I can't get comfortable, can't seem to find a position where I'm not feeling every breath she takes, every slight movement she makes.

The night is colder than I expected. The thin blanket we share isn't doing much to keep the chill away, and I can feel the temperature dropping as the minutes tick by. I try to focus on that, on the cold, on anything other than the fact that Y/N is right there beside me.

But then she moves. In her sleep, she shifts closer, nestling into my side as if seeking warmth. Her body presses against mine, soft and warm, and I go completely still, my throat felt tight. She doesn't wake up, doesn't realize what she's doing, but the effect on me is immediate.

I feel a pang of guilt at the rush of heat that spreads through me, settling low in my abdomen, but I can't help it. Her head rests against my shoulder, her breath warm against my neck, and I can feel every curve of her body pressed against mine. My arm is pinned under her, and I don't dare move, don't dare disturb her sleep, but it's torture. Sweet, excruciating torture.

I close my eyes, trying to think of anything else-ice water, long runs in the freezing cold, anything to distract me. But it's no use. My body reacts to her, to the way her leg is draped over mine, to the softness of her chest against my side.

I grit my teeth, trying to ignore the growing discomfort under my sweatpants. It's like my body has a mind of its own, reacting to her bod in a way I can't control. I remind myself that she doesn't know what she's doing, that she's asleep, and that I need to be the one with control.

But control feels like it's slipping through my fingers, especially when she shifts again, her body pressing more firmly against mine. Her hand rests against my chest, just above my heart, and I'm sure she can feel how fast it's beating, even in her sleep.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself, but then the scent of her fills my senses, and it only makes things worse. I'm stuck between wanting to pull away to give myself some relief and the unbearable thought of losing the warmth of her against me.

She mumbles something in her sleep, her breath tickling my neck, and I clench my fists, trying to anchor myself. It's a losing battle. Every time she shifts, every time her body presses against mine, it sends a wave of heat through me that sends my heart into a frenzy.

I try to adjust slightly, to move my hips away from her to lessen the tension building inside me, but it's nearly impossible without waking her. My body aches with the need to do something, anything, to relieve the pressure that's growing unbearable.

The cold that once bothered me now feels like a blessing, something to focus on instead of the warmth of her body against mine. But even that's not enough. The way she's curled into me, seeking my warmth, is driving me crazy and it's taking everything in me not to respond, not to give in to the need that's clawing at me.

I bite my lip, hard, trying to distract myself from the growing tightness in my pants, but the pain is nothing compared to the torture of having her so close, yet knowing I can't do anything about it. My mind is racing, torn between the guilt of my reaction and the primal desire that's becoming impossible to ignore.

She shifts again, and I feel her leg slip between mine, her thigh brushing against the very part of me that's been causing me so much grief. I suck in a sharp breath, my entire body tensing as I try to resist the urge to move, to not create any friction.

Jesus I feel like a pervert.

She just nestles closer, her body seeking mine, and I'm left lying here, completely helpless against the storm raging inside me.

I can't move. I can't breathe. All I can do is lie there, staring up at the ceiling praying for some kind of distraction, for anything to take my mind off the way her body is stuck against me. But there's nothing. Just the cold, the darkness, and the tightness in my pants.

Eventually, she settles, her movements slowing as she drifts deeper into sleep But the damage is done. I’m left lying there, heart pounding, body aching. Sleep is out of the question now.

I close my eyes, trying to will away my erection, trying to push down the feelings that are threatening to overwhelm me. But it's no use.

It's going to be a long, long night.

Tags: @lafrone

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