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thef1diary · 6 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.

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

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

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tulipatheticee · 5 months ago

Text

i've been waiting for you

violet bridgerton x youngest! daughter

bridgerton siblings x younger! sibling

synopsis; From the moment Edmund Bridgerton passed, leaving his wife widowed with eight children and one on the way, Violet found herself adrift until the arrival of Isadora, her youngest daughter. Isadora, quiet and calm, becomes Violet's constant companion in bustling Mayfair, offering solace and steadfast support at her mother's side.

word count; 1.3k

master list

a/n; i have arisen yet again, this is my first bridgerton fic so hello to the brigderton tag! i have archived all my old stuff because they are old and tbh the fandoms have died SO LET ME INTRODUCE MYSELF

my name is tulippa and im from sicily, im pretty confident in my english now but let me know if you see any errors! i mainly write fluffy family stuff like this, i love it idk. if you like this and want to see more like it let me know and ill provide for you! but its not like i wont write x reader romance cmon of course i will, but im best at parentxchild and siblings (PLATONIC ALWAYS DONT BE WEIRD) anyways i could go on and on but i wont, enjoy!!!

kinda proof read, kinda not, you've been warned

I'll carry you all the way

Violet Bridgerton had weathered many storms in her life, but none so devastating as the loss of her beloved husband, Edmund. His passing left her shattered, a widow with eight children to care for and another on the way. The pregnancy was fraught with complications, exacerbated by Violet's grief and the toll it took on her health.

Days turned into months as Violet withdrew into herself, mourning Edmund's absence even as life continued around her. Her family rallied, but Violet's sorrow was a heavy veil that separated her from them. It was during those long, solitary hours that she felt the weight of loneliness and the fear of losing both husband and child.

And you'll choose the day

The labour came unexpectedly, fierce and unforgiving. Violet's strength waned, her heart weary from loss and longing. The doctors and midwives worked tirelessly, their faces etched with concern. Hours passed like eternity until finally, a cry pierced the air—a fragile, yet determined cry that signalled new life.

Isadora was born amidst tears and relief, a tiny bundle of hope wrapped in Violet's trembling arms. The room, once fraught with fear, now glowed with a soft, golden light as mother and daughter gazed at each other for the first time. In that moment, everything seemed to still, and Violet knew she had been granted a miracle.

When you're prepared to greet me

She named her daughter Isadora, after the delicate Dahlia flower that Edmund had loved tending in their garden—a reminder of the beauty that bloomed even in the darkest of times.

As Isadora grew, she became Violet's constant companion, a beacon of joy and innocence in the Bridgerton household. Her older siblings doted on her, especially Anthony, Benedict, and Colin, who saw in her a reflection of their lost father's spirit. Isadora's laughter filled the halls of Bridgerton House and her curious mind sought solace in the quiet moments spent with her mother.

One afternoon, in the hushed serenity of the drawing room, Isadora sat at the pianoforte while Violet embroidered nearby. The soft melodies Isadora coaxed from the keys wove through the air, a testament to her growing talent and Violet's nurturing guidance.

"Does this sound right, Mama?" Isadora asked, her voice a melody in itself.

Violet looked up from her embroidery, a fond smile gracing her lips. "It sounds perfect, darling. You have a gift."

Isadora beamed with pride, her small hands continuing their dance over the keys. Despite her tender age, she played with a grace that belied her years, a testament to the bond she shared with her mother and the legacy of love that surrounded her.

I'll be a good mum, I swear

Anthony, Benedict, and Colin entered the room together, their voices low with shared memories and unspoken affection for their youngest sister. Anthony, ever the protective eldest brother, approached Isadora and knelt beside her.

"How are you today, Isa?" he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead.

"I am well, Anthony," Isadora replied, her gaze never leaving the keys. "Mama teaches me a new piece every day."

"Is that so?" Benedict chimed in, leaning over to peer at the sheet music. "You are quite talented, little one."

"Indeed," Colin added with a smile. "Father would have been proud."

Violet's heart swelled with bittersweet emotion at the mention of Edmund. She had feared she might forget the sound of his voice or the warmth of his touch, but in Isadora, she found echoes of him that kept his memory alive.

You'll see how much I care

"Mama, are you well?" Isadora asked suddenly, sensing the shift in her mother's mood.

Violet blinked back tears, her hand reaching out to clasp Isadora's. "I am well, my love. I am with you, and that is enough."

Isadora nodded solemnly, her understanding far beyond her years. Together, they continued their afternoon ritual, finding solace in music and shared moments that bridged the gap between past sorrows and future joys.

When you meet me

------------

In the sunlit gardens of Bridgerton House, where the scent of roses mingled with the laughter of children, Isadora found herself in the company of her older sister, Hyacinth, and brother, Gregory. Despite their lively spirits, they adapted to Isadora's quieter demeanour, creating a harmony that transcended their differences.

You thrill me, you delight me

"Isa, look what I found!" Hyacinth exclaimed, holding a caterpillar in her small hands with excitement.

Isadora approached cautiously, her eyes widening with curiosity. "Oh, wow! What is it?"

Gregory, always eager to share his knowledge, chimed in, "It's a caterpillar, Isa! Hyacinth and I were just talking about how it turns into a butterfly."

Hyacinth nodded eagerly. "Yes, Isa! It's like magic! One day, it will have beautiful wings and fly everywhere!"

Isadora's face lit up with wonder. "That's amazing! Can I hold it?"

Hyacinth carefully passed the caterpillar to Isadora, who watched it crawl across her palm with fascination. Gregory leaned in, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. "Let's play tag, Isa! You're it!"

You please me, you excite me

Isadora giggled as Gregory darted away, Hyacinth joining in the chase. "Catch us if you can, Isa!"

Isadora laughed, her heart light as she chased after her siblings through the garden paths, their laughter mingling with the rustle of leaves and the gentle hum of bees. Despite their differences in temperament, they found joy in each other's company, weaving memories that would last a lifetime.

You're all that

I've been yearning for

— —- —- —- —-

In the quiet of evening, as the Bridgerton family gathered for supper, Isadora remained close to Violet's side. Gregory and Hyacinth, full of youthful exuberance, regaled their siblings with tales of mischief and adventure, and how Isadora won tag earlier in the afternoon. The three eldest Brigderton men shared the lovely pianoforte they witnessed Isadora performing in the morning and spoke of how she is progressing very, while Eloise, Francesca, and Daphne shared knowing glances over the table.

I love you, I adore you

"Isa, do you have to be better than us at everything?" Eloise teased playfully, nudging Isadora with her elbow.

Isadora looked up, a hint of confusing in her eyes, she went to speak before Violet interjected “ "Eloise is just being foolish, darling, she means well”

Isadora quickly understood and replied "I only wish to be like everyone else Eloise, you are so clever, and Francesca is so graceful, and Daphne—"

"—is the epitome of charm," Francesca finished with a smile, her gaze softening as she looked at her youngest sister.

I lay my life before you

Daphne reached across the table to tousle Isadora's hair gently. "You are quite the storyteller yourself, Isa. Perhaps one day you'll write tales that surpass even Eloise's wild adventures."

Isadora's face lit up with delight at the praise from her sisters. "Do you really think so, Daphne?"

"Absolutely," Daphne assured her. "You have a way with words and a heart as big as all of Mayfair."

I only want you more and more

Violet watched the exchange with a tender smile, her heart swelling with pride at the bond between her daughters. Despite the challenges they had faced as a family, moments like these reminded her of the joy that filled their lives.

And finally it seems

My lonely days are through

Later that night, as Isadora drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the love of her siblings, Violet tucked her in with a sense of peace. The Bridgertons, each unique in their strengths and passions, formed a tapestry of love and support that would guide Isadora through the years ahead.

I've been waiting for you

"You are so loved, Isadora," Violet whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her daughter's forehead. "Never doubt that."

Isadora stirred, a contented smile playing on her lips.

I've been waiting…

And as Violet watched over her sleeping daughter, she knew that the bonds of siblinghood, and the enduring love of family would carry Isadora through any storm that life might bring.

…For you

pt2

a/n pt2; thats it guys :( i actually had so much fun writing this and if you want anymore of violet and isa or any of the siblings with isa let me know because i'd love for this to become a little oneshot series typa thing! your feedback is greatly appreciated <3

all my love!

~tulippa

#bridgerton x oc #bridgerton x reader #violet bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #colin bridgerton #daphne bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #francesca bridgerton #gregory bridgerton #hyacinth bridgerton #bridgerton #violet bridgerton #bridgerton x childoc

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austinsastrology8991 · 2 years ago

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Uranus and why your life is a ShiT ShoW > URANUS IN Yer HOUSe <

Uranus in the FIrst - You are the most unpredictable little fuck-head that everyone loves. They always change > there clothes, there direction in life > their hair colour. they thrive in change unless you try to change them, they are the ones changing and dont you dare change them, thats all they have left ;( Uranus in the Second. - Crazy self esteem issues. these people think they are the greatest then the worst person, also same applies to their income because they dont think they are worth much, until they invest into bitcoin and think they will be the next warren buffet. honestly the only thing stable about you is the perception of your value changing. But they love change, something to look forward to i guess Uranus in the Third your brain and communication skills are kinda fucky you know that dont you. you always know how to say something shocking, and extremely good at changing the subject of a conversation, like you dont have to say much, but what you do say just made everyone go huh what the fuck you say? its amusing tho we appreciate you Uranus in the F4urth - Emotionally avoidant, dependent, and attached personalities. They cant make their mind up on how they feel, so they experiemnt with every feeling to see if they vibe with that. mum was probably very unpredictable, and they wanna be like her. they just trying their best to forgive her <3 Uranus in the Fifth - Okay this one is the genius. This one people actually think your onto something when your showing off because you break free of every social convention, and archetype, but in the most perfect way. everyone believes your special, and you can change the vibe of a room like dat Uranus in the Sixth - what a fkn mess your life is. I had this one friend who would have 10 different drinks in his room and he would drink each one sparingly (they were all warm too). he had some serious health issues, and lets not get into his mental health okay. but yall have crazy lives and you make it that way Uranus in the Seventh - Im not a player i just fuck a lot. they choose their partners based off how interesting they are, if you can satiate their curiosity you got em. but if your boring or not worth figuring out yeah g-bye. also they just come off strange so everyone is extremely curious. they get projected on a lot but they dont mind its a good way to find out something interesting lol Uranus in the Eighth - Freaks who will do anything.... and im not just talking about sex, if they want something they'll find any way to get it. masters of attainment, even if its probably not healthy for them, they don't care if they want it they get it. then the object of their fixation changes as soon as they do get it. they are like obsessed with 'progress' but its hard to call it that sometimes Uranus in the Ninth - Clever minds who are always skipping segments of a speech, or a video to find the juicy parts. They have very quick minds that are so easily bored, but if you talk to them, they'll never not have something interesting to talk about. also when change does occur its a LOt Uranus in the Tenth - why are yalll like this. just baffling people like they know how to make an entrance and when everyone starts loooking at them, they decide to make fun of everyone by doing something a lil bit too shocking, almosst making fun of you for looking at them. gets off on shocking ya Uranus in the Eleventh - They wanna change the world, but not in a way that is practical. until it is. They have a million friends because they have a knack for understanding people, but when you ask what they want or what scares them. it just makes you rethink why your even friends with them in the first place. 12 - your crazy. and its endearing but everyone is this close to calling the cops on you or locking you up in a psyche ward. maybe tone down your retardation. we all got something going on but you take it to a whole new level.

#astrology #astrology blog #astrology notes #astrology observations #astro community #astrology placements #astrology houses #house placements #uranus aspects #uranus #uranus through the houses

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goggles-mcgee · 2 years ago

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Harry Potter being smaller than all first years (which we all knew anyway) but twice as feral.

Prefect Percy immediately noticing his small stature and being worried, Boy-Who-Lived or not. So he always offers him more help or just lends an ear. At first Harry is wary of him, no one is nice to him for no reason. Either it's a trick or with his new fame in the picture, because they want something but slowly he begins to trust Percy. Percy feels like a big brother for the first time in a long time. Ron and Ginn rarely went to him with their problems, they preferred Charlie or Bill (he couldn't blame them as he too preferred them but it still hurt), or worse the twins (that hurt worse). They didn't care for his advice. For his knowledge.

Harry was a breath of fresh air....well somewhat. Things he said were concerning and when Percy tried to get an adult to help (*coughMcGonagallcoughDumbledorecoughHisMomcoughHisDadcoughMADAMEPOMPFREYcough*) they brushed off his concerns which was more than a little concerning. So he just vowed to help Harry whenever and however he could. Then Harry somehow made the Quidditch team. At eleven. AT ELEVEN.

----------

Oliver Wood loved his new seeker! He was timid at first but quickly found his confidence! Sure it was on the feral side but that's how Oliver liked his players! I mean, look at the twins! Plus Harry had the perfect seeker build! Though...he was on the small side. But Oliver chalked that up to the lid being literally eleven but when he looked closer he realized that no...Harry was really small. Too small. And Oliver would know, his mum was a healer and she taught him some stuff considering his love (obsession) with Quidditch.

So he pays more attention. And what he witnesses and notices is not...good. it's very telling. He tries to go to some adults about what he's noticed but nothing came of it and that really got him mad. Then out of no where Percy Weasley came up to him and started lecturing him on Potter's health and all Oliver could think was, oh thank Merlin I'm not the only one who's noticed!

He and Percy stayed up well past curfew talking about their smallest cub and somehow it ended up with them coparenting the Boy-Who-Lived. Oliver would be completely honest and admit he didn't think it would be so difficult until the troll incident....then the dragon incident.....then the CERBERUS incident!

Oliver became something of another big brother to Harry and another confidant. So when Harry told him more about what happened at the Dursley's (because Harry never called it home. Never) Oliver was already plotting to kidnap the boy from the house or the station whether Percy thought it was a good idea or not.

#baby harry potter #harry potter #harry potter au #oliver wood #percy weasley #harry james potter #harry is feral change my mind #he doesn't trust easy but when he does he is ride or die #harry totally had a small crush on percy and oliver at some point but they went away when they started mothering him

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aurorangen · 3 months ago

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Like my first love that September

Transcript & Context:

[The trial was an eye-opener for us and we shouldn't be afraid to reach out to help cope with trauma. We both went to therapy, my mum felt brave enough to open up about her mental health and I went to talk through my fears and distress and how to gain control of it. In the end, we decided to move to Henford-on-Bagley]

[The countryside promoted healing and we were less likely to be triggered by places or people. It was really an escape from the big city. Settling down was easy since my grandparents lived there. It was also my first time visiting the family farm and I loved every single moment in that house]

[Most importantly, I felt more relaxed in Henford-on-Bagley. No more pestering reporters or prying eyes of the neighbours. No more trouble sleeping or flashbacks to all the difficult times. Instead, it was a warm welcome from the villagers, who did not ask too many questions, well most of them anyway]

[Our wellbeing improved and we immediately fitted in with the community. It was a new beginning here which meant a different school, routine and people. And one person in particular stood out from everyone else]

[Henford-on-Bagley was where I met Nancy Montford. She was my first love]

The remaining story parts (the first love and the one after 👀) are the ones that I have most been looking forward to! And look who is his first love...Nancy (tjolc)!!! It is perfect with her cooking roots and how city detective also explores food. I've mentioned that Vincent likes cooking and you will find out how it came to that. Now the two legacies link 🤗 One more thing is Oscar has NO RELATION to Strangerville even though I initially created him to be the mysterious guy.

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judeswhore · 1 year ago

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everyone knows that you and Jude are overworking yourselves and always want to be perfect at what you're doing. so his mum always reminds both of you to sleep and rest. so when he gets injured and she's away, you take care of him and tell him to rest. but he says that he doesn’t want to sleep without your cuddles, so you go to bed with him. and when he falls asleep, you slowly untangle yourself and go back to do some uni work. but after some time he wakes up and you're not in bed so he goes to find you. and he stands in the door of the room you're in, and says that you're a liar and how could you even leave him alone. so he picks you up and throws over his shoulder to tuck you in bed. and you tell him that he's unserious, but he just says that he's very serious and he cannot stand seeing you so tired and literally gives you the whole talk about how he's worried, just like you are when he's in pain :(((

he’s so unbothered abt his own health but when it comes to u??? he makes sure ur well rested and okay bc he hates the thought of anything less. so when he finds u bent over ur laptop again hours after the two of u had gone to bed he’s giving u this stern look and u can immediately tell he’s not happy with u, giving him a sheepish apology but he’s having none of it. picks up and takes u straight back to bed despite ur argument that ur okay and ur not even tired yet but the second he sets u down he stifling a yawn and he’s all “not tired my arse, get laid down” before he’s snuggling back up with u and pinning u against his body so u cant get back up. he’s mumbling in ur ear that u need to rest and take him seriously and ur arguing that he’s a hypocrite bc he never listens to u when he’s physically injured and u ask him to take it easy. just making a little promise to each other to take better care of urselves bc neither of u wants to see the other in any sort of pain

#hey jude :)

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sflow-er · 2 months ago

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Assorted Heartstopper season 3 thoughts (spoilers!)

Charlie's mental health issues were handled really, really well and Joe Locke acted his heart out. Perhaps the recovery could've been shown in a little more detail, but the ep4 structure was a great solution for a show of this length. I also liked how they portrayed the impact on his loved ones (especially the toll on Nick and Tori).

As much as I missed Nick's mum throughout the season, making his aunt a psychiatrist and letting her advise him about Charlie was an excellent choice! It actually felt more realistic than if it had been Sarah.

So pleased to see more Tori this season, and the rewrite of her and Michael's first meeting was cute! I do wish they had broken away from the comics timeline though, because the fast-forward to him casually hanging at their house felt very abrupt. I would've preferred a closer portrayal of her depression and them gradually getting closer this season, with their actual relationship saved for later.

Hence, I am actually glad they saved the ace reveal for S4. We saw too little of Tori and Michael's relationship or her confusion around it to relate to her aceness yet. If she had randomly come out to Charlie on the Ferris wheel, it would have just felt like lip service and a nod to the fans who knew her story from Solitaire (which is not canon in the show). I get why people feel like she was straightwashed, but there is zero chance of Alice Oseman of all people eradicating ace rep, and I genuinely feel that this was the better choice.

That being said, Michael was perfect and the casting was spot on!

As for the aspec rep we already got, Isaac's arc this season was amazingly well done! Even if his experience doesn't resonate with me on a personal level, it was relatable as hell in the show. It's also a great reminder that we are watching an ongoing show. S2 was Isaac figuring out his own identity, S3 was him living it and communicating it to others - and based on the camerawork in the scene where people wondered about Tori and Michael, S4 may be Isaac helping someone else figure out their own identity.

Another memorable thing for me was Elle's radio interview - the sheer absurdity of a trans teen being asked to respond to bad faith talking points from some adult TERF. The host both-sidesing it and unwittingly exposing her to vitriol if the interview had aired. Holy shit how appalled I was on her behalf - and how sadly realistic it felt... I hope the parents and random adults who watch this highly popular show take note.

Is it horribly middle-aged of me to say the teachers are still my favourite couple? I loved the glimpses we got of them together and the flashback to little Youssef made me tear up. More of them in the final season please and thank you!

My main criticism is that the season felt too heavily packed. There are so many characters now, and Alice and the writers want to give them all at least some kind of arc in each season. The result is that many of those arcs feel a bit rushed, and even as someone who usually fixates on side characters, I'm struggling to invest in all of them at once. Especially while the main characters and the more prominent side characters are going through very heavy stuff. So yeah, I would have preferred a tighter focus and more narrative breathing space.

All in all though, I really enjoyed this season and am looking forward to the next (presumably last) one!

#heartstopper #heartstopper netflix #heartstopper spoilers #heartstopper season three #heartstopper season 3 #heartstopper s3 #charlie spring #tori spring #isaac henderson #michael holden #elle williams #alice oseman #ace rep #asexuality #asexual #aromanticism #aromantic #aro rep #not yr

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illicitlimerence-writes · 2 years ago

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teddy bears & blankets | m. verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x leclerc!reader

word count: 2.3k words

request: yes, by anon: “hear me out…single mum who’s a leclerc and max👀”

prompt: character a can’t wrap gifts to save their life. character b is their neighbor and can help. from this prompt list. not my prompts, credits to the person who created it!warnings: a baby, fluffy max, a sick baby:( language maybe, kinda angsty in the middle.

a/n: day 5! i really didn’t plan to write three kid fics in a row, but oh well. REMINDER THAT MY REQUESTS ARE CLOSED, EVEN IF IT’S FOR THE SPECIAL. pls, i don’t want to close my askbox but if i keep getting i’ll have to turn it off.

my masterlist / 25 days of christmas masterlist

he sighed, tossing yet another piece of wrapping paper aside. max was talented in many different things, but wrapping gifts just wasn’t one of them. he was already stressed enough having to buy a gift for a christmas party he had forgotten about, spending almost two hours in line at a store, and now he had no idea how to wrap this box.

when he was sure that the paper was large enough to cover it completely, once he started placing the adhesive tape either one side was larger than the other or he placed it in a way that just didn’t work. he decided to just give up and place a bow on top.

he put on his coat, with the gift in one hand and keys in the other. he stepped out and closed the door, and was about to place the key in the keyhole when he heard the sound of the elevator arrive at his floor. he turned his head, seeing his neighbor and her daughter.

“hi, max,” she said, waving her free hand at him, the other one was holding her sleeping child. “i thought you’d be at charles’ by now,” she smiled.

“yeah, that’s where i’m heading, i just… i couldn’t figure out how to wrap this,” he held up the gift, “but i gave up,” he chuckled, watching her shift her weight from one leg to the other, “let me help you,” he said, opening his arms to grab the child.

when max found out a few months ago that his new next-door neighbor had a one-year-old baby he feared the worst. he was used to the peace and quiet of having a floor all to himself, and a baby would undoubtedly break that silence he cherished so much. but that wasn’t the case with (y/n) and alison leclerc.

alison was probably the best, well-behaved child max had ever met, he was used to his nephews, rowdy and a little bratty if he was being honest, but alison was soft, gentle, not too noisy and always staring up at him with eyes that looked just like charles’.

“she’ll wake up, can you get the door, please?” she asked, handing him the keys. he nodded and opened the door for her. “thank you,” she turned on the lights, “make yourself at home, i’ll put this little one to bed and i’ll help you with that,” she smiled at him.

“oh, no, you don’t have to- i-”

“my brother has been working all day for this dinner to be perfect, he won’t let you in if you show up with an unwrapped gift.” she raised an eyebrow, “he’s been freaking out all day, so, for the sake of charles’ health, let me wrap that gift for you,” she used her mom voice, giving him one last look before walking to ali’s room.

“yes, ma’am,” max said, running to his place to grab the leftover wrapping paper. he returned just as she was walking back, still with alison in her arms, but this time the baby was awake. “what happened?” he asked, a smile on his face as he looked at the baby, with sleep evident in her eyes, her cheeks an intense shade of pink.

“it’s like a curse,” she sighed, “right when i was placing her head on the pillow she woke up,” she placed ali on the counter, the baby immediately turning to crawl away, “nope, ali-”

“i’ll play with her, if that’s okay,” max offered. “a favor for a favor,” he said, walking to the little girl.

“what do you say ali? want to play with max?” she asked the girl, who had made her way to the fruit bowl and was playing with a small clementine.

“mash,” ali said, trying to say max. he smiled.

max entertained the baby, letting her pick whatever she wanted to play with. she kept coming back to the small clementine, and as the girl’s mother was cutting the right amount of paper, ali handed him the clementine.

“you want me to eat it?” he asked, grabbing the fruit and lifting it up to his lips.

alison laughed, squealing and clapping her hands.

“thank you, ali, that’s the best fruit i’ve ever had!” max opened his hand, lifting it in front of ali’s face. “high five,” he said, grabbing ali’s hand and clapping it against his own. ali laughed, doing it again and again, each time harder than the last. “ow,” he said, shaking his hand after one particularly hard clap.

“ali, gentle,” her mother reminded her. max turned to the older leclerc girl, seeing her already done with the gift. “here you go, you’re free to leave now,” max inspected the gift, she’d even managed to make a bow out of the same paper.

“how did you do that?” he asked, staring at her in awe. she only shrugged.

“i’m multitalented,”

“can i come to you every time i need a gift wrapped?”

“yeah! we love having guests, don’t we, ali?” she asked, the girl had leaned against max’s torso, he was leaning against the edge of the counter, where ali was sitting to make sure she didn’t fall or crawl away.

“i think she’s falling asleep.” he said, pressing a hand to the back of her head to support her.

“thank god,” she sighed, “i thought it was going to be another sleepless night.”

“she’s got issues sleeping at night?”

“lately, yeah.”

“i’ve never heard her,” max said, the leclercs apartment was always so quiet it almost felt like no one lived there.

“she’s not a crier. she just stares around,”

“well…” he said, doubting for a second if he really wanted to say it, but he decided to do it, “feel free to stop by if you need anything. i mean it, whether it’s to entertain ali or… if you need company.”

he knew that parenting was already hard with both parents around, and he couldn’t imagine how difficult it was being a single parent. and he liked her, they knew each other since they were kids and had grown up together in a way, with her always tagging along to charles’ races and events.

“thank you,” she said, walking closer to them, “and the same goes to you, mi casa es tu casa.” she smiled at him.

alison moved her head, extending her arms

“mama,” she yawned.

“i think i’ll leave, she needs all the rest she can get,”

“yeah,” she nodded. “have a nice night, max.”

“thank you, you too.”

it was two weeks later, and again, max was struggling to decide whether he really should ask (y/n) for help. throughout those two weeks theyy had managed to run into each other more than the entire time they'd been neighbors. max would always pay a little extra attention to them, whether it was helping her with whatever she was carrying, opening the door for her, or holding alison in his arms.

he could say that they were starting to become close friends, and after two weeks he found himself looking forward to seek her help.

he was standing in front of his mirror brushing his hair to make sure it was in place. he looked down to his bottles of cologne, and he grabbed one, how finger ready to apply it, but thought about alison, if the girl was to get close to him the chemicals from the fragrance could irritate her.

he walked out of his room, with the roll of wrapping paper and the gift under his arm, something inside of him moved at the thought of seeing them again.

he lifted his fist to knock on the door, waiting for the usual stomping of little feet or her soft voice. he waited a few seconds before knocking again.

he heard soft whimpers getting louder, and soft shushing as the door opened. his face fell as he saw the state of both girls.

“what happened?” he asked immediately, seeing them both in their pjs, with alison crying soundlessly and her mother looking like she was on the verge of tears as well.

“i’m sorry, max, i- i can’t help you right now i-”

“no, no, forget about this, what’s wrong?” he asked, and right as he finished talking alison started coughing.

“she’s sick, and she can’t sleep and… god, i feel so… powerless,” she said, rubbing her hand up and down the baby’s back, “i wish i could make her feel okay but-” she shook her head, rubbing a hand down her face as tears started falling from her eyes.

“hey, it’s alright,” max whispered, walking in and wrapping his arm around her, “have you called her doctor?”

“yeah, he already prescribed the medicine, but… i don’t know what to do now, she keeps coughing and waking herself up.”

“mash,” they both looked at alison, watching her extend her arms towards him.

“no, baby, you’ll get max sick-” she explained, taking her arms down, but the baby insisted.

“it’s alright, i… i can hold her, i don’t mind.”

“but you’ll-”

“if it helps her, and you, i would love to hold her.” max said, watching ali lean herself forward. max dropped his stuff on the floor and held her. he placed the back of his hand against her forehead, “i think she’s got a fever.”

“yeah, the medicine should help with that.” she said, wiping her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “god, i’m a mess. let me get your things so you-”

“no, forget about that. i’m staying.”

“what? max you don’t have-”

“i want to. i won’t be able to focus on anything all night knowing you’re both like this.” right then alison started coughing again, and max rubbed her back gently, whispering softly in her ear, “there you go, get it all out. want to look at the city?” he asked, walking to the window overlooking the harbor, “look at the boats and the lights, ali…” he said, the girl leaning her head on his shoulder and yawning. “she’s sleepy,” he told her mom.

“yeah, she hasn’t slept all day. only for a few minutes before having a coughing fit every time.” she explained.

“have you called your mom? or brothers?” he asked, knowing that they would all most likely be there to help them both if they knew.

“they’re all gone. on holiday. we were supposed to join them but… well, look at us.”

“well, you’re not alone anymore. i’m here,” he walked to her, wrapping his free arm around her, careful with the baby between them.

“you- really don’t have to do this, you had plans and-”

“and i can see them tomorrow or next week, that’s the least of my problems right now. right now you both should get some sleep. this little one is already falling asleep.”

“i just hope she can rest more than fifteen minutes at a time,”

“you want me to lay her down or-”

“yeah, come,” she said, walking down a hallway and opening the door to ali’s bedroom. everything was decorated in neutral warm colors and was very clean.

“i think this is the tidiest baby room i’ve seen,” max said, hoping to lighten the mood.

“you should see my room. we’ve been sleeping there since she got sick, and it’s not pretty.”

“i’m sure it’s better than my room even when i’ve just cleaned it.”

she chuckled, preparing ali’s crib.

after placing her on the bed and waiting for her to fall asleep, they both stayed in her room, with max on the floor next to the crib, ready to act in case she started coughing or woke up. they stayed there for about twenty minutes, in silence, staring at alison longingly.

max had grown attached to both of them, and the feeling he got when he first saw them that night was something he’d never felt before. he’d felt the back of his neck tingling, his heart seemed to sink down to his stomach.

“i think this is it,”

“yeah?” max asked.

“yeah. she’s not even moving around, she used to squirm around, trying to get comfortable but now she’s… i think she’s finally gonna get some sleep,”

“and you should get some, too,” max said, eyes widening at what he had said, “sleep, i mean- i”

“i know what you meant,” she chuckled, covering her mouth with her hand to muffe her laugh. “i think i’ll just stay here for the night. i want to be here in case she wakes up.”

“well, we should get comfortable, then.” max said, leaning to grab a big stuffed bear and placed it beneath his head as a pillow.

“you’re not staying here, max. you really don’t have to.”

“of course i am. someone’s got to look out for you. and i know you’re both totally fine on your own normally, but these are not normal conditions. you need a little help, and i’m more than happy to be here.”

she smiled, a soft, sleepy smile that made max’s heart beat faster. she pulled out some blankets from the bottom drawer of ali’s wardrobe. scooting over next to max.

“you’ve got the pillow, i’ve got the blankets.” she said.

“i don’t know about you, but that sounds perfect.”

“a sleeping, sick kid, a mom in the middle of an emotional breakdown, a teddy bear and blankets?”

“yeah.” he nodded, sounding absolutely serious about his posture.

“you’ve clearly not spend enough time in this house.” she joked, sliding down and wrapping the blanket around herself, getting ready to sleep, finally.

“well, i would love to do that. you know, to… get a gist of things around here.” he said, unaware of the smile on her face, since she’d turned her back to him.

“we’ll talk about it over breakfast.”

“that sounds perfect. good night.” he leaned down, giving alison one last look, making sure that she was still asleep before closing his eyes to sleep.

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 3 months ago

Note

Unpopular opinion about the Waleses:

I think that there's more going on with Kate than the cancer. I think that between this and all the attacks she's received, not only recently but for the past few years as well (out of everyone in the family, she's the one who's been the most attacked: H&M supporters constantly go after her looks, her marriage, her family, her kids, accusing her of racism, of bullying H&M out of the family), I think she might be mentally exhausted and needed a break from everything, including her royal duties. I get the criticism that she's received, saying that regular people don't have the luxury to stop working but I feel like there's also a case of mental exhaustion

Also, as someone who has deal with people with cancer and has been a caregiver, having cancer is one of these diseases that will make you reevaluate your life, think about what you want and what makes me happy. I don't know how Kate is doing but she's well enough to take the kids to a festival and go to Wimbledon.

As someone who has watched Kate grow since she started dating William to now, she never struck me as someone who is a social climber or desperate to be Queen, like so many people believe. She and William were in the same circle. She could've easily done a Pippa, married a rich aristocrat and lived a rich life without being in the public eye.

And even after she and William got married, she always gave me the vibes of someone who loves being a stay-at-home mum, living peacefully in the countryside. I never thought her (or William for that matter) really liked royal life. Look at how many years it took for them to start solo projects and even then, it looks like they're not really that involved (Heads Together is the perfect example)

Maybe, this health crisis and her finally taking the time to reflect on everything is making her realise that she doesn't really like this life, which is why she hasn't come back to doing engagements, unlike Charles (I know he's the monarch but he's always been very hard-working)

Could be. I know a lot of others that share your opinion.

Something I think is worthwhile to remember is that we’re in the middle of a huge paradigm shift as to what royalty is, what they do, and what they mean, moving from traditional monarchy (best embodied globally by the BRF and Queen Elizabeth) to modern monarchy (which no one really knows what that looks like because we all look to the BRF for that model, despite dozens of other monarchies around the world who have been able to make that transition somewhat successfully). Charles certainly has ideas of what modern monarchy can be, but he’s also a product of traditional monarchy and is still somewhat beholden to those ideals, though his own diagnosis seems to have made him realize there is some merit to a modern, scaled back approach.

To which I think is the “between a rock and a hard place” that William and Kate are in - as the face of “modern monarchy,” they’ve had to do a lot of work figuring out what that looks like, and what they seemed to have settled on is quality over quantity, and their focus is quality of everything - quality of life, quality of work, quality of health, quality of engagement. And I think we’re seeing that in their joint decision to let Kate have the time and space she needs to heal not just physically but mentally as well.

Which is an uncomfortable notion because we’re used to a royalty that “has to be seen to be believed.”

The flip side of your argument about Heads Together and how uninvolved they are today is “well, that’s totally the point.” It goes back to William’s approach to charity work; he wants to train, teach, help the locals to do this work. He gives them the seed money or the initial support to launch, but then he backs out of it, turning the reigns over to the locals or the experts, which has a far greater chance of long-term success because then you’re addressing systemic challenges. (Which is the opposite of Harry’s approach, which is that it needs to be fixed right now, so flood the system with everything and everyone you need to eradicate the immediate problem, take credit for that, then take your money and experts somewhere else and leave the locals unable to do anything except watch the problem redevelop or worsen, because you haven’t taught them what to do. The brothers have butted heads over this and it’s something often discussed by the Royal rota in their books.) So again, it’s a conscious choice by William to prioritize quality over quantity; making sure to invest in the people involved in his initiatives to address issues at the core root.

But at the end of the day, there is no right or wrong answer at what’s going on. It’s just change. And change is uncomfortable because it makes “what we’re used to” different. But it doesn’t necessarily mean that change and different is bad. We just don’t know. And we won’t know until William gets a chance to effect his plans.

As for Kate, she signed up to be William’s wife and accepted that the crown comes with it. She’ll show up when she needs to because that’s the woman she is; when it matters the most, she’ll be there. Yes, it matters somewhat now to a lot of people, but it’s doesn’t matter the most right now. It’ll be okay.

And if it isn’t, if things change and Kate doesn’t show up when she critically needs to, we’ll worry about it then. But for now, let’s take her at her own words that sometimes she has bad days and sometimes she has good days and when she’s having a good day, she wants to make the most of it. She had a good day this weekend and went out with her family and had a good time. Is she not allowed to do that? Are all cancer patients or all people with major health issues not allowed to enjoy their good days when they have them? Because if so, someone better let the Make A Wish Foundation, and all wish charities, know they need to shut down since sick people aren’t allowed to have fun.

#brf #waleses

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goldengalore · 2 years ago

Text

Never Alone

An anxious!reader fic.

Summary: Harry wants to meet Y/N’s family, but she is hesitant to introduce him to them and he can’t figure out why. When he discovers the reason, he’s hurt that she felt the need to hide it from him. This makes Harry question Y/N’s feelings for him, while she thinks he’s doubting her anxiety issues.

Word count: 6.8k

Warnings: anxiety, toxic family, invalidation of mental health issues, angst, mentions of sex but no actual smut

A/N: Listened to Matilda and Renegade by Big Red Machine ft. Taylor Swift a ton while writing this. Also, to anyone reading this who has ever felt invalidated about their mental health issues, I see you and I hope you know you are never ever alone ❤️

***

Harry and Y/N hadn’t been dating for very long when he introduced her to his mother, Anne, and his older sister, Gemma.

He knew that meeting them in person for the first time would be stressful for Y/N because of her social anxiety as well as her obsession with making an excellent impression on every single person in his life. So, he cleverly began easing her into it by having her pop in briefly during his usual FaceTime calls with Anne and Gemma.

It worked because when he asked her to come home with him for Christmas, she didn’t even hesitate to say yes. That didn’t mean she wasn’t nervous about it though. Between her anxiety and his excitement, they were both a ball of jitters on the ten-hour flight from LA to London.

Harry’s family fell in love with Y/N. Once she conquered her initial timidness, she fit in perfectly with them. This didn’t come as a surprise to him at all, but Y/N was completely blown away by the love and warmth that his family showered her with. She was even brought to tears from it.

After a joyous holiday with his family, Harry found himself imagining what meeting Y/N’s family would be like. To him, that was the next logical step in their relationship, and he was eagerly anticipating it. So, when they’re a whole year into their relationship and she still hasn’t introduced him to her family or expressed any intention of doing so, he can’t help but wonder what might be holding her back.

She even had the opportunity to do so when she recently visited her family for a few days. She could have taken him with her. He even offered to tag along, but she refused, claiming that her mother had come down with some nasty stomach bug, so it wouldn’t be the best time.

He can’t lie. Her refusal hurt. Although he tries not to make a big deal out of it, it eats at him over the next couple weeks, so one day, he just decides to bring it up.

For most people, it’s a lazy Sunday—the perfect opportunity to sleep in and not get out of bed until noon. Not for Harry and Y/N though. No, the two creative souls got up bright and early to use this time to write and draw. Harry sits on one couch with his guitar in his lap and his songwriting notebook next to him along with his phone, which is recording everything he plays. On the other couch is Y/N, her sketchbook perched up against her bent legs, her pencil gripped between her skillful fingers as she works on a drawing.

Harry has been staring at her for some time now while mindlessly strumming his guitar. She’s too immersed in her task to sense his gaze on her.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, baby?” she responds without looking up from her sketchbook.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm?”

He pauses the recording on his phone before asking, “Why don’t you want me to meet your family?”

The question pulls her attention away from her drawing to his face. The hand holding her pencil is frozen on the paper.

“I told you,” she says softly. “It’s not that I don’t want you to meet them. I’m just... waiting for the right time.”

He cocks a brow. “The right time? Will there ever be a right time? We’ve been together for a year.” He really doesn’t want to sound pushy or demanding, but he also just wants her to know how he feels. “You and my mum are constantly sending each other cat videos. You and Gemma have inside jokes that I’m not even a part of. Meanwhile, I find myself wondering if your family even knows who I am.”

She gives him a small, slightly amused smirk. “H, they know who you are. Trust me.”

“You know what I mean,” he mumbles, looking down at his guitar. Sure, they may know him as “Harry Styles the singer” or “Harry Styles the actor,” but that’s not what matters to him. He just wants them to know him as Y/N’s boyfriend, that’s all.

“They know that we’re in a relationship,” she confirms.

He waits for her to elaborate, but she doesn’t. “Okay... And? How do they feel about that? Do they ask about me? Do they even want to meet me?”

She averts her gaze, her pencil moving across the page again. “They ask about you every time I see them.”

“Then what’s holding you back?” he inquires gently.

Her response is so delayed that he wonders if he’s even going to get one. “I’ll talk to them,” she says after a minute. “We’ll arrange a time for you and me to go see them together.”

His eyebrows lift up in surprise. “Really?”

She nods. “Yeah. If you really want to meet them, I’ll try to make it happen.”

He doesn’t know what to say at first. He didn’t expect her to concede so quickly. “Thank you, lovie,” he says once the words finally come to him.

She just gives him a brief smile and returns to her drawing, making a few more pencil strokes before asking, “Wanna see what I drew?”

“Always.”

She tries to bite back an excited grin as she turns her sketchbook around to show him. He shifts the guitar in his lap and leans forward to take a look. He instantly recognizes himself in the sketch. It’s him sitting as he is now, on the couch with his guitar. Every detail of his facial features is intricately depicted from the focused furrow of his brow to the shape of his nose to the stubble on his jaw.

He stares at it in awe. “That looks amazing.”

“Thanks!”

He tears his gaze away from the sketch and looks at her. “You were drawing me this whole time? I thought you were brainstorming ideas for your next piece.”

“I was, but you just looked so cute sitting there with your guitar. I mean, you were practically begging to be drawn.” She shoots him a flirtatious grin.

“Mhm. Right.” He shakes his head at her, smiling. “Can I keep it?”

“Of course.” She carefully rips the page out of her book and hands it over to him.

“Another one for the collection,” he states happily, referring to his growing collection of sketches that she’s drawn of him over the past year. In the beginning, she used to hide them from him. Then one day, he stumbled upon her sketchbook sitting on the dining table, opened up to a page containing a flawless illustration of his Vogue magazine cover, and he was astounded. Y/N’s whole face flushed red when she found him staring at it, but he was quick to reassure her that he liked it and asked if he could keep it.

“I don’t mind, you know. That you like drawing me,” he told her that day. “It’s a compliment, if anything, and it’s no different than me writing songs about you.”

Her face brightened at his revelation. “You write songs about me?”

“All the time.”

Ever since that conversation, she no longer hesitates to show him these drawings and he makes sure to keep each one in a safe place.

“I still can’t believe you’ve been saving them all,” she says now. “You really haven’t thrown a single one away?”

“I could never.”

***

A whole week passes by, and it’s like their conversation about arranging a time to meet Y/N’s family never even happened because she doesn’t bring it up again. Harry starts to wonder if she only said that to appease him for a while and stop him from asking. That annoys him. It would be one thing to tell him that she doesn’t want him to meet her family; it’s another to make false promises just to shut him up.

He wishes he could drop it. But he can’t. Especially now that he is almost certain that she’s hiding something from him.

She has a meeting today with the owner of an esteemed art gallery in LA, who offered her the opportunity to hold her first solo art exhibition. She has spent the last couple months preparing for the exhibition, which is less than two weeks away. Her best friend and business partner, Rosie, will be accompanying her to the meeting. Rosie shows up at Harry’s house around 10:30 that morning.

“Y/N’s upstairs, still getting ready,” he tells her after inviting her in. “Should be down soon though.”

“I’m surprised I’m ready before her for once. That’s quite the accomplishment for me.”

“Yeah, I, um—” He releases a sheepish laugh, touching his fingers to his lips. “I may have made her a bit late getting out of bed this morning.”

Rosie opens her mouth to say something, then closes it. He raises his brows at her expectantly, but she waves a dismissive hand and says, “Oh, I was just going to ask what you two were up to, but then I answered my own question.”

A coy grin tugs at the corners of his lips, as the memories of his sensual morning with Y/N play back in his mind.

He and Rosie take a seat in the living room. He offers her something to eat or drink while they wait, but she politely declines. That’s when the thought occurs to him. If there is anyone who knows Y/N better than him, it would be her best friend, who has known her for the majority of her adult life. Surely, if Y/N is hiding something from him, Rosie could be the key to helping him figure out what and why.

“Hey, this might be a random question, but have you ever met Y/N’s family?” he asks.

“Yeah, a few times.”

“What are they like?”

Her hazel eyes narrow slightly. “Why do you ask?”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Don’t you think it’s a bit strange that Y/N and I have been together for a year and she still hasn’t introduced me to her family?”

Rosie hesitates. She glances over her shoulder at the stairs before answering quietly, “Look, let’s just say... Her family isn’t very supportive of her.”

His heart sinks. “Shit. Really?”

She nods. “They’re like the type of people who think mental health problems aren’t real problems or that tough love can fix everything, including anxiety.”

He winces.

“Yeah…”

“Well, that explains a lot,” he says, referring not only to Y/N’s reluctance to introduce him to her family but also her emotional reaction to his family accepting her with open arms. “Why didn’t she just tell me that? I would’ve understood.”

“You know how Y/N is. She keeps a lot to herself, and she doesn’t even do it on purpose most of the time.”

“I know, but...” He shrugs. “I just thought we’d reached that stage in our relationship where we could tell each other anything. At least that’s how I feel when I’m with her.”

She had so many chances to tell him the truth about her family. Even if she didn’t want to get into the nitty-gritty details of it, all she had to do was tell him that they’re not nice people for him to drop the topic altogether. He feels guilty now for bringing up her family so much, but she never gave him any indication that they were bad people. Even when she went to visit them recently, it didn’t seem like she was dreading it. So, how was Harry supposed to know? How can he possibly know anything about her if she refuses to open up to him?

They hear her footsteps rapidly descending the stairs now.

“I’m ready!” she shouts.

Her outfit for the meeting is sleek and professional—a teal blouse loosely tucked into a pair of slim, high-waisted black trousers. Harry helped her pick it out this morning when she was struggling to decide between a few different options.

“How late are we?” she asks breathlessly at the bottom of the stairs.

Rosie checks her phone. “Not that late. We can still get there with five minutes to spare.”

As Rosie heads to the door, Y/N walks over to Harry to kiss him goodbye.

“Bye, baby. I’ll see you later,” she says.

He squeezes her hand. “Best of luck with the meeting. Remember to breathe.”

“I’ll try!”

And then she’s off.

***

Sometimes, Y/N can’t tell if someone is actually behaving differently around her or if her anxiety is causing her to see things that aren’t there. There have been instances where she thought someone was acting off around her and became convinced that they were upset with her only to find out that they were just having a bad day and it had nothing to do with her at all.

She wonders if this might be the case with Harry. He has been acting strange the past few days. The shift in behaviour is subtle. A kiss that ends a moment too soon, a smile that doesn’t quite reach the eyes, a laugh that feels just a little bit forced. Most people wouldn’t take notice. But the thing about anxiety is that it forces you to notice everything. It’s as if the brain is in a constant state of hypervigilance, scanning its environment for the slightest sign of a threat.

Harry has been at the studio all day. She saw him briefly around seven o’clock this morning when her eyes fluttered open to find him all showered and dressed for the day, grabbing his phone off the nightstand.

“Heading to the studio. Love you,” he told her, planting a hasty kiss to her forehead before leaving.

She couldn’t fall back asleep after that, so she decided to start her day too and put some finishing touches on the drawings for her upcoming exhibit. However, her overthinking mind made it impossible to focus. She ultimately decided to take her drawings over to her apartment and work there instead.

Over the past six months, she has practically lived at Harry’s house with how much time she spends there. But her apartment has always been there in case she needs some time alone or, like today, she just needs a change of scenery to sharpen her focus.

It didn’t occur to her at any point to text Harry and let him know where he can find her after he finishes up at the studio. Or perhaps, her subconscious made her withhold that information on purpose to see if he would even notice or care for her absence.

Late that evening, she receives a call from him.

“Hey, where’d you go?” he asks when she picks up.

“Oh, I’m at my apartment. Couldn’t focus today, so I thought I’d try working here instead.”

“Hm. Wish you’d told me. I would’ve headed straight there from the studio.”

“Sorry,” she mumbles in response.

“It’s all right. Be there in a few.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

A nervousness seeps through her after their call. A kind of nervousness she hasn’t felt since the very early days of their relationship when she wasn’t quite comfortable around him yet. She doesn’t like this feeling and tries to distract herself by cleaning up the kitchen where she just finished having dinner not too long ago.

Harry has a spare key to her apartment, just like she has one to his house, so when she hears it turn in the lock, she knows it’s him. Her heart is in her throat.

She’s washing her hands in the kitchen sink when the door opens.

“Hi, my love,” he greets her. He’s wearing her merch today. Well, technically, it’s his merch that she helped design. Their merch, as he would call it.

“Hey,” she replies. As she wipes her hands on the towel by the sink, he walks up behind her and slides his arms around her waist, burying his face in her hair. She turns around to face him. “How was your day?” For some reason, the question comes out sounding awkward, at least in her head, but Harry seems unfazed.

“Productive. We wrote so much today. Song after song. I couldn’t believe it. Tyler suggested we pull an all-nighter, but everyone was tired, so we decided to go home…” A dimpled smile emerges on his face as he adds, “And I wanted to see you, so…”

He plants a sweet, lingering kiss to her lips. She should feel the stress dissipating from her body. She should feel a sense of calm washing over her like cool ocean waves on a hot summer day. But none of that happens.

His hand sneaks under her shirt, squeezing her bare waist before wandering upward to her breast.

“Sorry,” she says, pulling away suddenly. “I, um, I’m not in the mood tonight.”

He blinks a few times, thrown for a moment. “Oh. Okay. No worries.” He takes a step back and scratches the back of his neck, eyes searching her face. “Everything okay?”

She doesn’t meet his gaze. “Yeah, I think I’m just starting my period soon, so you know…”

“Ah. Well, maybe we can just cuddle then. If you’re in the mood for that.”

“Mhm.”

They lay on her plush black couch together, her head on his shoulder, his fingers running through the lengths of her hair. He’s humming some unknown melody—probably a new song he’s been working on. She feels her heartbeat slowing down, finally.

Then he says, “Hey, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

Her heart picks up again. This is it. This is what she’s been dreading. She has no idea what he’s about to say, but of course, her mind jumps to the worst case scenario.

“Yeah?” she says, trying to keep her voice level.

“It’s about something Rosie told me.”

She frowns. “Something Rosie told you? What would that be?”

“She told me about your family, how they… they’re not supportive of you and your struggles.”

Her frown deepens. “She told you that?” She sits up now. “Why would she do that? She has no right to be sharing that kind of information about me.”

He sits up too, confusion taking hold of his features. “It’s not like she shared it with some stranger, lovie. I’m your boyfriend. Why is it so bad that she told me?”

“Because I didn’t want…” She trails off.

“You didn’t want me to know?”

She wordlessly looks down in her lap.

“Why?” he asks, the hurt apparent in his voice.

Forcing herself to look at him, she answers, “I didn’t want to disappoint you. You seemed so excited to meet them, and you bring them up all the time—”

“Yeah, that was when I knew nothing about them. If I’d known how they’d treated you, why the fuck would I want to meet them?” He runs a hand through his hair, clutching the ends briefly before letting go. “And I brought them up all the time because you were always so bloody vague about the topic. What was I— What was I meant to think? I’m not a mind-reader, Y/N.”

“I know. I know you’re not a mind-reader.” She tries to reach out to him, but he doesn’t seem to notice her outstretched hand as he turns away, so she lets it fall on the couch.

“Well, sometimes I feel like you expect me to be one because you never tell me how you really feel or what you’re really thinking, and I’m left to figure it out on my own.”

“Okay, that’s not true.” She shakes her head, growing a bit defensive now. “I know I used to be like that in the beginning, but you can’t tell me I haven’t gotten better since then because I have. You’re just angry right now and I—I can understa—”

“I’m not angry,” he insists, though he sounds pretty close to it, and it’s making her panic because although she has seen him get angry before, it’s never been at her.

His eyes fall shut for a moment. He seems to compose himself before continuing calmly, “I’m just frustrated because I feel like I’ve told you everything about me, I’ve bared my entire fucking soul to you, and I know it’s not as easy for you to do the same, but it’s not like it’s a walk in the park for me either. You say that it’s your anxiety that keeps you from opening up to me, but at this point, I can’t help but wonder if you just don’t feel as strongly about me as I feel about you.”

She flinches at the last part, a sense of betrayal settling like rocks in her stomach. “Y—you think I use my anxiety as an excuse?”

“That is not what I said.”

“That’s what you implied.”

“No,” he stresses, clenching his jaw. “You’re purposely misunderstanding me.”

“Why are you here, Harry?”

Puzzled green eyes stare back at her. “What?”

“This has clearly been on your mind for some time now. If you really think that I don’t feel strongly about you, that my anxiety is just some cover-up, then why are you still wasting your time with me?” Her heart thuds wildly in her chest as she spouts, “Is it just for the sex? Is that it? I mean, that’s why you came here tonight, right? Just for a quick fuck. And when you couldn’t have that, you decided to pick a fight with me.”

It was mean. Quite possibly—no, definitely—the meanest thing she has ever said to or about him. And it was undeserved. And she regrets the words as soon as they leave her mouth.

The expression on his face switches from disbelief to disgust to pure pain in a matter of seconds.

“Yeah,” he says, swallowing thickly. “You’re right. That’s what I’m here for, Y/N. Just a quick fuck. Because I’m some lowlife prick that would use you for sex and get mad when I can’t have it. You figured it out. Amazing job.” He claps his hands and stands up, taking long strides to the door.

“Wh—where are you going?” she stammers.

He ignores her and shoves his socked feet into his Vans. On shaky legs, she hurries over to him.

“H, where are you going?”

As his left hand reaches for the doorknob, she grabs his other one.

“No, wait, don’t go.”

“No, you’ve made it clear to me the kind of person you think I am. Thanks for your honesty, Y/N.” He speaks without looking at her. She can only see his side profile, but it’s enough to catch the tears forming in his eyes.

He tries to pull his hand away, but she squeezes it tighter, pleading with him, “I didn’t mean it. Please don’t go. Baby, please—”

“I’m tired, Y/N,” he sighs out, sounding utterly exhausted. “I just want to go home.”

He manages to yank his hand free from her grasp and leaves the apartment, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Y/N stands there, staring at it for the longest time, before making her way back to the couch in a daze.

She doesn’t know why she said it. He was just trying to explain his inner thoughts and feelings, not attacking her, but her brain latched onto that one comment about her anxiety and blew it way out of proportion. It struck a nerve somewhere inside her, reopening old wounds created by people in her past who invalidated her struggles.

But Harry is nothing like those people. No, he is a far cry from them. No one has shown her the level of kindness and understanding that he has, and she fears that no one else ever will, which makes the thought of losing him catastrophically more painful.

She lies down on her side on the couch, curling her legs into herself as the first sob of many escapes her body.

***

The big day has arrived.

Y/N’s very first solo art exhibition that she’s been working her ass off on for the past few months takes place tonight. The gallery that offered to display her work made an agreement with her to donate a portion of the profits to a local mental health charity—something that Y/N has always wanted to do. She’s always dreamed of using her art to give back to causes that matter to her, and she is finally at the stage where she can do that.

Her art career has taken off this past year. She was doing well before, but this year has catapulted her career to heights she couldn’t have imagined. She knows Harry has a lot to do with it, since the limited edition merch she designed for him attracted millions of new eyes to her work, not to mention the fact that she started dating him afterwards, which further piqued people’s curiosity about her as a person and an artist. But Harry, being the humble man he is, argues that it’s her talent that keeps bringing people back to her work, not him.

Whether he admits it or not, Harry has changed her life in more ways than one. Even if he never speaks to her again, she will be thanking him for the rest of her life.

Over the past week, she has typed a hundred different apologies to him, deleting each one without sending it, convincing herself that it’s not good enough, that he doesn’t want to hear from her, that he probably hates her guts.

She has missed him all week, but tonight, that feeling cements itself deep inside her chest, mixing perilously with the fear of having to talk about her art with strangers. It would’ve helped to have Rosie here at least, but her fiancé’s mother was in the hospital after a medical emergency and she needed to be there for them.

Y/N feels incredibly alone.

The people working at the gallery have been lovely. She hardly had to do anything at all because they took care of the entire setup. Now, they’re preparing the refreshments table, and just the mere sight of all that food is making her nauseous.

As hard as she tries to keep her shit together, she crumbles and bolts towards the exit. One of the gallery workers tries to inform her that the exhibit is about to start, but she barely hears him through her heart pounding in her ears. Once outside, she starts walking down the sidewalk in a random direction and finds an opening between two buildings where she can take a moment to herself, away from other people.

The fresh air entering her lungs is somewhat soothing, so she tries to focus on that, leaning a hand against one of the buildings.

“Y/N?” says a deep, familiar voice from behind her.

It can’t be, she thinks to herself, but when she turns around, there he is. Standing on the sidewalk. Dressed in dark, indiscriminate clothing and a hat, which casts a shadow over most of his handsome features. He’s wearing his Gucci square-framed glasses that make him look like a college student.

“Harry? What are you doing here?”

He steps towards her, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I was sat in the cafe across the street, waiting for your exhibit to start. Saw you run out. Are you okay?”

Instead of answering his question, she asks in a weak voice, “You came to see my exhibit?”

“Of course I did,” he says, as if the concept of him missing it is unfathomable. He places his hands on his hips and adds with a faint smirk, “You think I, your number one fan, would miss out on your first solo exhibit? C’mon.”

Tears flood Y/N’s eyes, blurring her vision.

Harry’s face falls. “Oh no. Don’t cry, lovie.”

The tears streak down her cheeks now, ruining the makeup she spent so long on applying tonight. “I thought you hated me.”

He reaches towards her and delicately places his hands on her arms. “I could never hate you.”

“But you should! You should hate me because you’ve been nothing but patient and understanding with me and I treated you like shit in return and I hate myself for it and I’m so sorry—”

“It’s okay—”

“No, it’s not!”

“Shh, come here.” He pulls her into his arms, cradling her head against his chest, holding her there until she calms down. Then he draws back and lifts her chin to make her look at him. “Listen to me. I did not come here to make you cry and ruin your big night, okay? I came here to support you. Now you’re going to put on that beautiful smile of yours and you’re going to go back in there and you’re going to put on this wonderful exhibit—”

“I don’t think I can.” She shakes her head.

“Yes, you can. You’ve worked so hard for this, my love. You deserve this. Don’t let your fear tell you otherwise.”

She sniffles, thinking for a moment. “You’re going to be there?”

“Yes. The whole time,” he reassures her. “I promise to be discreet though. I’m not about to steal the spotlight from you.”

“I wouldn’t mind even if you did, to be honest.”

“See, that’s the fear talking.” He pokes her softly in the chest. “This is your night and your night only.”

A part of her wishes he would just pull her back into his arms and let her stay there forever, safe and warm and comfortable. But he’s right. She has worked too hard and come too far to allow fear to stifle her now.

“Okay,” she says finally. “Okay, I’m going to go back in.”

He smiles widely. “That’s my girl.” He kisses her and sends her off with a few more encouraging words.

For the first fifteen minutes of the exhibit, as the first batch of visitors trickle into the gallery, the voice in Y/N’s head is screaming at her to run out the nearest exit and not look back. It takes everything in her to keep her feet planted where she is and withstand the racing heart and the churning stomach and the sweaty palms.

It isn’t until people start coming up to her to ask questions about her art that she begins to feel any semblance of calm, which is surprising, considering that this is the part she was most afraid of. Once she gets into artist mode, articulating her artistic ideas and techniques in front of these strangers comes naturally.

She spots Harry every now and then, wandering around the gallery with everyone else, blending in remarkably well in his dark clothes and hat and glasses. At one point, while she’s talking to someone, she sees Harry in the distance, holding up his phone with the camera aimed at her. He winks when he catches her eye.

By the last half hour of the exhibit, Y/N’s throat is dry and hoarse from talking so much. She can’t believe how many people were interested in discussing her work with her.

While she’s taking a break to have some water, she hears someone shout, “There she is!”

She turns to find Jeff and Glenne walking towards her, smiling and waving like proud parents.

“So sorry we’re late,” says Glenne. “Traffic was a nightmare.”

Y/N shakes her head. “No, it’s totally fine. I didn’t even know you were coming.”

“Are you kidding?” says Jeff. “We’ve been looking forward to this.”

Y/N told them about the exhibit when she and Harry invited them over for dinner last month. She didn’t expect them to remember. The fact that they did means everything.

“We were going to buy something, but it looks like everything’s sold out, huh?” says Jeff, looking around.

“Oh, we’re so coming early for the next one,” says Glenne.

Y/N smiles at the determination in her voice. “Thank you for coming. You guys have no idea how much it means to me.”

Her heart is so full. Whereas the night started with her feeling petrified and alone, she now feels more loved and supported than ever. To say that the exhibit was a success is an understatement, and having Harry, Jeff, and Glenne all there for her was the cherry on top because success tastes so much sweeter when you have people to share it with.

***

Harry is bursting with pride. Watching Y/N put on this exhibit tonight has been quite a treat. She has blossomed from someone who used to not think very highly of her artistic capabilities into a self-assured artist right before his eyes, and he has loved being able to witness her growth.

Now they’re at his house, having Thai food, and Y/N, who hasn’t eaten all day due to nerves, is devouring everything so quickly that he worries he might not have ordered enough food for them. Luckily, that doesn’t end up being the case.

Afterwards, as they’re placing their dishes in the sink, Y/N tells him, “I saw you sneaking pictures of me at the exhibit. Like a little fanboy.”

He laughs. “I hope you don’t mind. You just looked so in your element.”

She bites her lip. “Can I see them?”

“Sure.” He takes his phone out of his pocket and opens up his camera roll. He places it on the counter so they can both look together.

Each photo shows Y/N talking to people who came to see her work, her hands poised in the air as she describes her creative process or her inspiration behind a specific piece.

“You look so confident,” he comments. “And happy.” He looks up at her from his phone and nudges her softly with his arm. “I’m proud of you.”

For a second, it seems like she’s about to break down into tears again but then contains herself.

“I really don’t deserve you,” she says.

He gives her a gentle look, knowing that she’s referring to the hurtful words she fired at him that night in her apartment. The words that burrowed deep under his skin for a few days until he gained some clarity and realized that she’d only said them because she felt attacked, that she didn’t actually believe them. Of course, that didn’t make it okay, but it did soften him towards her a little. And knowing Y/N, he could safely assume that she was far angrier at herself than he was at her.

“Y/N, I know you didn’t mean what you said. I mean, it still fucking hurt, but I know they were just words said in the heat of the moment… Right?”

“Yes,” she replies without hesitation. “And I’m so sorry, not just about what I said that night, but also what I didn’t say about my family, for hiding that from you.”

“No, I never should’ve pushed you to tell me in the first place.”

“But you never pushed me, Harry.” She turns her body towards him fully, leaning against the counter. “You just asked because you were curious about that part of my life, the same way I was curious about your family before I met them. It’s just that my family is… They’re nothing like yours. It’s not like they’re terrible people. They’re just not warm or affectionate, and they see any display of emotion as a sign of weakness.”

He quirks a brow. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, lovie, but they sound like robots.”

“You’re not far off,” she replies with a shrug. “They have this toughness, this stoic resolve that I used to envy when I was younger, until I realized that I didn’t want to be like that at all. As a child though, when your whole family is like that and you’re the anxious one who can’t get your emotions under control, it’s hard to feel normal. My parents didn’t know how to handle my anxiety, so they tried to mold me into them, and when that didn’t work, they just started denying my feelings altogether. Every time I would try to talk about my feelings, they would shut me down, tell me to suck it up and toughen up and stop being so goddamn sensitive.”

Hearing that makes Harry’s chest ache. Y/N is a sensitive person, sure, but he never viewed that as a shortcoming. In fact, it’s one of the many things that drew him to her because he is the same way. His sensitivity has allowed him to be more empathetic in his relationships and more vulnerable in his music—qualities that he also noticed in Y/N.

“I got tired of trying to explain it to them,” she continues, “so I left and tried to make something out of my art career. And God, my parents hated that. They were never the creative types; they thought anything related to art was a waste of time. They kept telling me I was wasting my potential to be something bigger, something better than an artist. And at one point, I started believing them, but then I met people like Rosie, who weren’t emotionless robots and who actually appreciated art for what it is.

“And I made a life for myself out here, pouring my heart and soul into my art, and I’ve tried so hard to keep this new, amazing part of my life separate from that part because I don’t want them to ruin this for me.”

“That’s why you didn’t want me to meet them?” he asks gently.

“Well, that and the fact that they’re convinced that you’re just some hotshot superstar stringing me along while sleeping with ten other girls at the same time because they don’t see how someone like you could ever fall in love with someone like me. And they make sure to remind me of that every time I go see them, which is just so fun,” she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

Harry doesn’t really care that her parents see him as some pompous asshole obsessed with sex. What does bother him, however, is that they try to make Y/N feel like she somehow doesn’t meet his standards, that she isn’t good enough for him because that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“How come you still visit them?” he asks. “Not judging, just curious.” If it were up to him, he would never let them see her again.

She sighs. “I don’t know. I guess I always felt obligated to? I felt like they did care about me, even if they sucked at showing it. But the older I get and especially this past year, I feel less obligated to put up with their shit. I’ll probably keep visiting for now, just not as often anymore.”

“You don’t have to deal with them alone, you know.” He takes her hand in his. “I’m more than willing to go along for moral support.”

“That’s really sweet, but… It’s hard enough hearing them say disrespectful things about you when you’re not there. If you were there, I think I might start throwing hands.”

He chuckles. The idea of his dear sweet Y/N, who couldn’t hurt a fly, threatening to fight her family for disrespecting him makes him melt inside.

“Okay, well, I understand if you’d prefer to go on your own,” he says. “My offer still stands though, if you change your mind.”

She smiles. “Thank you. I appreciate that. And I promise to be more open and honest with you moving forward. I really am trying.”

“I know you are.” He looks down at their hands, rubbing his thumb over the back of hers. “Can’t be easy when you were told to bury your feelings down all through your childhood.”

“Yeah…”

When he looks up from their hands, he finds a peculiar look on her face, her eyes tender and almost hypnotic as they stare back at him.

He frowns slightly. “What?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing. Just feeling extra lucky tonight.”

“Oh.” He smiles, nearly blushing under her intense gaze. “Sooo, when’s the next exhibit? Because I have some suggestions.”

Her brows lift up curiously. “Suggestions?”

“Yeah, mostly for the refreshments table. I feel it was a bit lacking.”

She gasps. “Not the refreshments table! I worked so hard on that!”

“Hm, well, clearly not hard enough.”

She pouts. He chuckles and pinches her bottom lip before leaning in for a kiss, stopping just by her lips.

“I love you so much,” he whispers.

“Love you more.” She completes the kiss.

***

Thank you for reading! For more anxious!reader and other fics, check out my MASTERLIST

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fic #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #anxious!reader #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #my writing

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theforestwisperings · 4 months ago

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Colentine headcanons for the soul 🌾

Hi uhm I didn't have anything to say like a justification

I just want to write something of the sillies being affectionate with each other

Disclaimer: this are headcanons!

This is NOT CANON and doesn't have the intention of spread misinformation. If you want to know more about yaelokre's world, check their social medias!

Also, don't took this too seriously, my dear.

Cole is the sensitive one. They really Preserve any little detail that clémentine gives to them. Flowers? They dry it just to having that in their notebooks. Letters? Have a special place to Guard that. Sometimes, when they feel overwhelmed, they Read and see all the little details

Cole Love language? Affirmation words. They truly fell loved when clémmie says that they're the "most brilliant mind" that they know, or when they say that they did everything so well

They also love to make acts of service ( in general, with any lark) but one of the most cute habits that clémmie and them is brushing each other hair. Surprisingly, cole have a soft hand to Untangle clémmie hair (a/n:the curse of the curls LMAO) . Clémmie loves to braid their hair. Sometimes they put flowers onto cole's hair, and say some little words like “you are perfect”, “you're everything that i love”(im going to write something like this I promise)

Clémmie gives cole a little hand made hare plush because "it reminds me of you!" (That was with all the intention posible)

Cole try to make a goat plush to clémentine. They failed miserably in the process but clémmie have it anyway

Cole learns origami and gives clémmie an origami goat that they preserve. If someone touches the little goat, clémm goes mad

The first lark that notice the cole and clémm feelings was Kingsley. Being so close to clémm, they heard every single thinking of clémentine (tbh they don't have any option) and sometimes they are around cole when they daydream constantly about clémmie

Talking about being honest with emotions, both have difficults to admit that they are really falling in love.

Talking about daydreaming. Before being honest with their emotions, cole was always in their world, that world when they was bravery enough to express themselves.

Cole Loves cuddles. But they never say that openly (is too shy) clemm, in the other case, loves give everyone cuddles (but the special ones are always for cole)

Cole fall in love first, clémm do it harder.

Cole Gets flustered easily. Even their own thinkings are capable of making them so shy. Clémmie is more Affective, that's true, but they have some cute details with cole

Cheek kisses, forehead kisses. Cute kisses all around. When they have an stage presentation. They front foreheads as a little “good luck kiss”

Sleep together. Cole really enjoys the heartbeat of Clem and hugs them so much. Clémentine loves giving them kisses in their hair.

Talking about sleeping together, the body temperature of Cole is so low, instead clemm have a warm body

Cole smells like vanilla. And clémentine loves that. Clémentine smells like lavender. That calms a lot to cole (and ofc they love that)

Portraits of each other>>>>

Clémentine loves to send cole Scented letters

AAAAAAH I'm promise that I'm going to share some Perrine and Kingsley fraternal headcanons. Im writing this in my lunch time with mum. UHHH I love this two. My health get better! Not dizziness anymore!!!1!

Autor notes:

HELLO LONG POST🐈

I know that there's some headcanons that are too long, my apologies

Today I'm going to cut my hair. I'm going to make a little change

Live laugh love colentine 🐐🐇

—affectionate headbumps, Calli 🐐✨

#meadowlark #yaelokre #yaelorke fandom #colentine #yaelokre cole #yaelokre clementine #yaelokre kingsley #(subtle mention)#(your tags here)#Spotify

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shinyrhinestones · 2 months ago

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Loved in the night

Summary: Elle comforts Reader after her mother gets hospitilazed.

Pairing: Elle Greenaway X BAU!Fem!Reader.

Genre: Fluff, smut and angst.

NSFW.

Category: Oneshot

Warnings: Sickness, food, drinks. Oral (reader rec), petting, making out. Also Reader has a mum living in the US.

Also this is a draft from a long time ago. I’m not perfect at writing, and Especially not at smut, so yeah 🤷‍♀️ also this was probably written quickly so it probably feels rushed and there’s probably a bunch of grammar mistakes 🫠

———————————————————————

You’ve never really been worried about anything bad happening to your family. They didn’t live as close to you and your job, and you never really worried about their health either. Everything seemed to go well. But you never quite know what to expect. A phone call informing you about your mothers heart attack was a good way to ruin your entire day.

You got permission of your boss to leave for the day, and you rushed to the hospital. The doctor explained how it was going to be all right, and she would recover. You stayed by your mothers side for some time, even though she was unconscious. You still had some things at work to get done. Some files that hadn’t been finished up yet. And even though you were really worried about your mother, you didn’t know what to expect when your work wasn’t done. And as your mother still was unconscious, like She had been for all the time you’d been there, you figured you would hurry back to the bullpen.

You entered the bullpen walking a little slower than normally, and with a frown formed on your face. You walked over to your desk when you were questioned by a coworker. “Y/N, where have you been?” Derek asked, head tilting a little. Honestly, you really didn’t want to tell the truth. You sat down and slouched in your seat. You opened a drawer grabbing a handful of the files you needed to finish, and stuffed them in your bag. You looked up at Derek, and saw how Elle and JJ were now standing behind him aswell. “Uhm..” Was the only thing you managed to say, staring off to the side. “I..I don’t really want to talk about it” You were met with confused looks yet worried, but met with silence. Maybe because you stood up before giving them a chance to react properply, and walked over to Hotch’s office to let him know you were taking the files with you, and that you’ll finish them in time. He of course was surprised why you had returned when you had more important stuff to focus on at the moment.

“I know, Hotch, I do. But I’m so new to this whole thing I just wanna get these done and distract me from the trouble until she wakes up.” You rambled out of worry and a slight panic. “Y/N, it’s okay, go home” Hotch said in a calm yet demanding voice. You nodded and turned around leaving his office. When you walked past Elle’s desk she immediately stood up to catch up with you. “Y/N, What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” Normally Elle would’ve let the person walk away. She normally would’ve shrugged, and turned her attention back to whatever she was doing before. But this was something completely different than normal to her. You stopped walking to be able to look her in the eyes, and have a normal conversation. You looked into her brown eyes, letting them study your face. Your heart almost melted at the sight of Elle being concerned for you. As a profiler, you could notice how she actually cared about you. But you never thought more of it, than just being a good friend. Because the thought of her being interessed in you was abnormal. Elle always seemed to good for anything really. And maybe she wasn’t even into girls.

You let your eyes fall down, and you bit the inside of your cheek. Debating on if you should tell her or not. “What is it?” She asked again, knowing something was wrong. Not only did she notice your behaviour, but also how you had visited Hotch’s office twice that day. “My mother had a heart-attack” You sighed, and brushed some of your hair behind your ears. Elle’s eyes softened even more. “Are you going to the hospital?” She asked, trying to meet your eyes. “Well, I have these files to finish, but I also want to be there for my mum when she wakes up, so I might do them in the hospital.” You explained, looking all over the place. Elle nodded along to your words, and almost started to frown herself. “What if I help you with that? We can just take it slow, alright? I'm sure Hotch understands.” She tried to calm you down, as you came of as very troubled and in distress. “Right, yeah. I’m sorry” You hid your face in your hands for a moment, then looked at the dark haired woman again. “Why don’t I help you? Let me take you to the hospital, and then accompany you there. You seem like someone who could do well with some support.” She said, holding your hands and then let them go, when you agreed. She quickly made sure that everything she had to take care of was done, so she could go home already.

——-

Elle went to hospital with you, and sat with you out in the hallway when your mother had to go through some tests. She sat down next to you, and reached you a waterbottle.

“Thank you.” You mumbled and accepted the bottle. But you didn’t open it. You just fiddled with the bottle in both of your hands. Hearing the water squish and the water moving fast in motion. Elle stared at you and your playing. Her eyes were studying you and she couldn’t help but profiling you. But honestly it didn’t take a profiler to know you were sad and down. Elle’s palms were sweaty and she tried to rub it off on her jeans. Elle could be quite a private person. Not one to always accept her company outside of work.

And perhaps you should’ve noticed that as a profiler. But everything in the moment was too overwhelming for you.

Elle rested a hand on your back, trying to show her support. She didn’t really know what to say. Other than admiring you, she of course tried to find the right words to say. But Elle just ended up sighing and left it at that. You didn’t wanna admit it in the moment, but Elles hand on your back made you try really hard not to smile or blush. Luckily, when you sit next to each other in a hospital, you dont see each others faces unless forced by yourselves. Would’ve been really hard to explain why you were smiling, in this situation.

————

And again, Elle wouldn’t let you go home alone. She was the one who convinced you to go home, and get some rest. That rest in the hospital wasn’t that enjoyable. Elle knew what she was talking about.

She drove you home, and while she was sitting in the driver seat, you couldn’t help but admire her features as she was so concentrated. And worried. You saw it in her eyes. It’s always the eyes. She bit her lip as a way to hide her concern.

She walked with you up the stairs to your apartment. Elle seemed like she really didn’t want to let you be alone, cause she could sense how bad you felt. I mean obviously. But between you and Elle, you knew a lot about each other. And that was also a realization for you, when you stood by your own doorstep. Yes, Elle was private, but to you she was more open. You’ve had your fair share of long conversations.

“Elle.” You said softly, looking at her confused. “Yeah.” She looked at you a little surprised, her eyes a little wide. Her mouth slightly open. “Why did you walk up with me here?”. You asked, even though you kinda knew why. “I..Uhm. I don’t know. Do you want me to leave?” She stuttered a bit, and she wasn’t really sure of what you trying to say.

“No.” You shook your head lightly. If you were to be honest, you would tell her how much you actually wanted her to stay. How much you wanted her close. That she should show you all her care and love for just one night. If that wasn’t too much to want.

But you were shy. And you also felt like it was weird behaviour. Even though, it wasn’t weird of you for wanting her.

You welcomed Elle inside and she complimented your apartment. You smiled lightly and thanked her.

—-

After a nice dinner made by both you and Elle, you decided you wanted to sleep. But you both knew you couldn’t sleep. Even after all of the good laughter Elle gave you for the evening, it was still hard not to worry. Elle asked you if she should stay the night, and you accepted. You didn’t want to be alone.

It was good that Elle distracted you with funny storytimes and jokes, making you both laugh. She made you distracted. You layed under the covers, your legs touching now and then. And everytime, you wondered how Elle felt about it. Cause to you, it wasn’t enough. Elle took your hand, when your laughter died down. And your eyes met for a moment. Elle was bold. You knew that. Elle took risks, and sometimes you could get so angry at her for it, with the job you had.

Elle was too afraid of saying anything. She let her thumb work around your hand, as a distraction for herself. You already felt like this way more intimate for two friends and colleagues. She scooted closer, and you smiled gently at her in the dark. But Elle was so close, she saw it. “What?” She smiled herself, and her eyes shined with being intrigued. “You’re close.” You answered shortly. Her eyes changed from shining brightly, to being afraid. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She tried pulling back, but you squeezed her hand in a second, and she stopped moving.

“What?” She blurted out.

“I don’t mind.” You explained. She relaxed her tensed up muscles, and you heard her sigh of relief. “Okay.” She whispered. “Elle..” Her eyes found yours again, and she could hear your soft breathing in the dark room. The only sounds besides that were the other people in the apartment block getting ready for bed aswell. But it was faint, and perhaps only your upstairs neighbour. Or the sounds of cars passing by out on street. In a swift motion, she let her lips touch yours in a gentle quick kiss. She wanted your reaction. And the one she got, was you pulling her back down, to kiss again. More this time.

Elle let her arms wrap around you. Her left arm around your waist, while your right arm took a hold of her shoulder. She sat up just a little, by supporting herself on her right elbow. She gave you a long kiss, pulled away and then curtly kissed down your neck before her fingers sneaked under the covers. She let her hand roam across your figure, before they went under your tanktop. Elle looked at you in the silence now between you, and you gave her a slight smile.

Her hand went up to your breast, letting her hand softly and quickly slide across, and then down to your abdomen. She leaned down again, to let your lips touch again. You sighed into the kiss, like everything had been resolved. All your thoughts about Elle had been answered, and now you were just lost in the moment. Elle’s fingers snuck under the waistband of your panties, and let the tip of her finger softly settle on your clit.

You had one of your hands on Elle’s cheek, by her hair. And the other hand was around her shoulderblade. She pulled away, and you both got some air, from a heated kiss. Elles kisses were steady yet passionate. Like she kissed with all of her admiration, mixed with being certain of herself and her love.

Your head rested further into your cold pillow, as Elle rubbed her finger in gentle circles. You let out almost silent whines for everytime she rubbed. Cutting yourself off. “Are you okay?” She asked, knowing that this might be too much of a step already. “Yeah, Elle. I’m okay. I just really want you right now.” You admitted honestly. And she moved up on her knees right between your legs. “Okay.” She almost smiled, but she knew this was a moment where you needed to feel serious.

She slided down your underwear completely, and reached down. Laying herself down. She kissed where she could reach before going to one of your most sensitive places. She carefully and gently, let her tongue rest against your clit. She got less and less careful as she felt like you were getting more worked up. Her hands held onto you, of course. Your hands gripped onto the quilt, she had moved to the side, before she laid down on the madrass for you. “Mhm-“ you were a little aware of your sounds, as it was getting late and you didn’t want any complaints. She kept her soft licks, roaming around with her tongue. Her fingers carefully rested at your entrance before she let the slide in.

You let out a moan louder than you meant to. But the feeling of her was too good. She looked up but didn’t even get a look at you cause it was so dark. But she could you tensing up, and at that she let her lips suck at your clit, as your hands clenched the white quilt.

Elle could only hear her name and your soft breathing and whines. She still tried not to smile too much, as she could feel you weren’t ready to let go. She let her fingers curl inside you, and find her rhythm. One of your hands gripped her hair, and you felt it all crash down on you at once, when you felt her like that between your thighs. And with a moan cutting off the other, you felt your back arch, as your muscles got tighter. You let go off Elles hair, and let your hand rest against the bed again. Elle kept going until she felt your high wearing off. You opened your eyes, which you had barely been able to keep open. Elle sat up, after her fingers slid out again, and she sat down next to you.

She gave you a long kiss, and you sighed yet again.

However, Elle didn’t think of herself in this moment, but you wanted more of her.

#criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #elle greenaway fluff #elle greenaway fic #elle greenaway #elle greenaway fanfiction #elle greenaway smut #smut #fluff #fic #fanfiction #elle greenaway x reader #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds masterlist

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ladymarycrawley · 1 year ago

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Like father, like daughter - John Stones

Not requested but I've been woking on this piece for a while so there you go 💕 and dad! John is a weakness of mine so yeah (and it's quite long). Feel like dedicating this to queen herself @footballffbarbiex 🤍

Warning: pregnancy

Tag list: @prideofpd, @johnstonesfc, @chelsealover, @masonxomount, @kathb59 (cause she was eager to read it)

Pregnancy is seen in the collective consciousness as a blessed time, where a new life is growing inside of a woman’s body and everything seems good but most people only see the pleasurable side of it, ignoring all the cons these nine long months carry with them.

Of course there’s physical pain (back pain, swollen feet, morning sickness just to mention a few), that’s something concrete everybody can see. What’s more painful it’s the hidden part of this journey, the one that takes place in women’s head: embarking on such a massive change might be scary and sometimes fear overlaps with the joy of welcoming a new human being, overcoming it most of the time.

The most common worry is about not being ready enough to become a parent (as it’s the hardest job a person can do) followed by the difficulty of giving birth: how is it going to be? What will I do if something wrong happens? Will it be as painful as they make it seem in films?

All of this has an impact on mental health and stability, as all these fears may take a toll on a person’s mind and rely on the most disparate stimuli to give life to the most random scenarios…

"John I'm so scared"

"Of what?"

"There's people who like pregnant women but not in a good sense…"

"In what sense?"

"Like they find them hot and have a fetish for them, that's scary"

That what can be defined as one of the random scenarios mentioned above: that afternoon you were aimlessly scrolling through your phone to stumble upon an article about the most unusual fetishes and you happened to read about people who had the pregnancy kink.

"So what?"

"That's gross and what if these people steal my pics and do vile things with them?"

Your head started spiralling in panic as your hormones and your unstable state of mind was totally controlling you. Too many thoughts in that overworking brain of yours culminated in desperate tears rolling down your face.

"Your pics are safe and you look so sexy"

"I don't, this thing is insanely big and…and the other day you called me whale" You confessed to him as sobs were making you shake.

"Affectionately though, I'd never call you a whale to insult you…" He wrapped his arms around your waist "You're the sexiest, most beautiful whale ever" John whispered with a husky voice right into your neck

"You're fake, you're just mean"

"I'm not mean!"

The sobs were getting harder and your boyfriend knew the breakdown was getting serious.

"You'll leave me for some beautiful, hotter woman that'll give you no problems and you'll be cheating on me and I'll end up as a single mother and -"

"Hold on, hold on. Calm down and take a deep breath" John tried to calm you, stressing those encouraging words and trying to take deep breaths with you as to show you the priorities you should have considered.

"You're overthinking"

"What if something goes wrong? What if the birth doesn't go as planned? What if our baby -"

"Calm down"

"I've read a lot of stories of mums that had horrible experiences while giving birth to their babies and what if one of us dies?"

John blurted out his eyes in shock as fear and worry covered his perfect face as well.

"Don't even think about it. We're following literally what the doctor told us, I'm sure they'll do whatever it's in their power for your safety"

Your baby kicked in that moment, as if your worry suddenly became her own and she felt the urge to calm you down, coming to the aid of her dad.

You gulped and brought your hand to your belly as John’s eyes never lost sight of you.

He’d never lost sight of you, not even when you went through labour and you were holding his hand so tightly while following the midwife’s instructions, trying to coordinate your pushes with the deep breaths she was asking you to take.

You were trying not to think about all the fears that piled up during those months but it was so hard when all the contractions trampled over you so violently. He stayed there even when you were squeezing his hand so hard your nails dug into his skin, almost piercing it.

He was the antidote to all your nightmares: someone who stayed there with you, holding your hand through thick and thin.

John only left at nightfall and only after you insisted for him to go back home to sleep on a proper bed.

You were feeling like a done and dusted whale, all bloated and tired while he was there looking so fine, surely fresh out of the shower as the unmistakable scent of his aftershave tickled your nostrils.

The sight of him entering what had been your room for the last two days made your heart swell and the butterflies in your stomach soar.

The tiredness painted across your face as well as your swollen eyes made your freshly woken up expression evident and John couldn’t help but smile as your tired smile welcomed him.

"Hi"

"Good morning"

He closed the door behind him, approaching your bed and looking at the small crib where your tiny baby girl was sleeping.

"How are you? Did you get some sleep?"

"Yep…slept a couple more hours"

"Good" He muttered while pressing his lips to your forehead.

"And how is she?"

Both your glances fell on the product of your love that was so small she could easily fit in one of John's large hands and looked so cute in her blush pink bodysuit, stretching her little legs as she was probably busy dreaming something.

"She seems fine, we can't wait to go back home"

"I know…they said you would be good to go today"

"Yeah but they want to check in on us for a final check and then we can go"

"Okay" John was a bit disappointed he couldn't take his ladies with him and leave the hospital right away so he reluctantly nodded and got up to take you something to eat for breakfast.

"I want a giant chocolate croissant"

"And a giant cappuccino as well?" He asked with a smirk, knowing full well your taste when it came to what to have for the most important meal of the day.

"You know me so well" You exclaimed, happy with those small things that weren't small at all in your eyes; they meant the world to you as him and your baby were now your whole world too.

John smiled, a blush pink tint colouring his cheeks and lowered himself over your seated figure, balancing himself on the mattress with his hands, his lips busy pressing a kiss on your forehead.

"See? Everything went well, you're both doing great" He whispered, referring to your fear of something potentially going wrong during the birth, your biggest fear.

You smiled back at him, watery eyes full of weariness and emotions looked up at him as you moved your head to the side to press a tender kiss to his hand that was soothingly caressing your cheek.

“I love you so much. Both of you”

“I love you more”

That sweet moment was interrupted by a nurse who knocked on your room’s door to check in on you and Iris, as it was time for the last visit before discharging you officially.

John waited outside for it to be over, using that time to buy you the delicious breakfast you have been longing for.

He really hoped they could give you the green light to go back home because that would have meant everything was okay and you were perfectly healthy. So he prayed to hear the good news he was waiting for, to see your baby in that white wooden cot you spent a whole day choosing at the store, paired with that flowery pink bedding set his sister gave you as a gift and that had you crying as soon as you opened the box.

After fifteen minutes or so the nurse opened the door followed by the medical staff who welcomed your boyfriend with a smile, the doctor holding your file in her hands. She complimented John on your newborn and told him what he was dying to hear: you and Iris’s health status was good and you were ready to leave the hospital.

He thanked her and nodded when she gave him some quick advice on how to take care of them during the delicate moments following the baby’s birth.

After saying their goodbyes quickly John rushed back to your room with a big grin plastered on his lips.

"We're going home babies" He cooed, taking the duffle bag with all your personal belongings.

“Not so fast, Stonesy” You chuckled “Help me get out of this bed so we can get ready”

The City player giggled and helped you step out of the bed so you could stand up properly. The standing posture made you feel pain in places in didn't even know they existed and the grimace on your face told it all.

“I’ll take the baby and all her things while you put all your stuff in here” He said, directing his tall body towards the crib where his princess was looking at him with her blue eyes. “Yes baby, you’ll come with dada”

The moment you dreamt of a lot, that is to say John making his silly little voice to speak to your daughter, finally happened and it brought genuine tears to your eyes: funny how a small, tiny creature that you met for the first time no more than 72 hours earlier, that shared every single second of the last nine months of your life with you suddenly became the most important, priceless treasure you ever put your hands on.

You thought there were some feelings it was impossible to give form to and love was one of them, but you had to change your mind the moment you took her in your arms because you realised the human being you were holding was the embodiment of all the love you had for her dad. So some feelings, even the strongest one, had a shape and it was astonishingly beautiful.

“Oh I see you’re already taking the baby and leaving me with the heavy things” You mumbled, feigning being angry at him.

“You had her with you for 9 months, don’t be selfish”

“Me selfish?? Oh I’d have really liked you to carry her in your belly for 9 f-”

“Oi don’t swear in front of the baby”

You laughed seeing him all concerned and covering Iris’ ears as he was glaring at you. You shook your head as you slowly started to collect all your things around the hospital room.

“Give me my breakfast, I’m starving”

“See? Your mum has already changed and uses me as her butler and credit card”

His joke caused you to roll your eyes as you were trying to get dressed while dealing with your yet aching body.

You were in some baggy pants and an oversized hoodie because it was the only outfit you were feeling like wearing as John was there looking as flawless as usual even though his fit was quite simple: a pair of jeans matched with a gray jumper and a baseball cap on made him look hotter than usual. The child seat he was carrying with your baby girl in was making him even look like a real hot daddy and your heart was bursting with love. The right word to describe how you were feeling was blessed.

When you finally stepped foot in your house you sighed in satisfaction as you just wanted to get in your bed and cuddle with your new family in peace, eating some good junk food if possible.

“Home sweet home”

John smirked and carefully put the child seat on the floor so he could take Iris out of it.

“Welcome home, baby” He lifted her up to place her against his shoulder so her head could rest against it, as they showed him in the hospital. “This is your home”

“I’ve missed it so much…I think I’m going to lay down for a while”

Lying down on your own bed, on the bed sheets you chose, in the room you shared with the man of your life gave you that much needed home feeling.

You closed your eyes in the attempt to relax but the level of weariness, of emotions you had experienced recently didn’t make it any easier for you to sleep a little.

"Ok so I'm gonna go"

"I don't wanna see anyone" You mumbled when John finally entered your room, cradling Iris in his arms. When he looked down at her to see she was asleep, he put her in the wooden cot right next to your bed.

He couldn’t help but smile: that sight was the closest to perfection he had ever seen, as that piece of furniture that had been empty for all those past weeks was now full as it should have been, hosting the most important treasure ever.

"Not you, idiot. I just wanna see you and our baby" You grumbled as your voice came out feebly due to your state of tiredness.

John smiled and was about to sit next to you on the bed as your phone started ringing, much to your dismay. You groaned in annoyance.

"Who the fuck is now?"

"Your mum"

"Tell her I can't talk, I'm sleeping"

He nodded and swiped on the screen to do as he was told. You knew your mum was dying to talk to you, to make sure you were doing okay but you just wanted to enjoy the peace of the moment and keep that special moment for you only.

When he finished talking, he finally climbed on the bed and you soon were all over him, wrapping your arms around his body and letting your head rest against his chest with your eyes closed breathing in his familiar scent, the best fragrance in the world to you.

"Are you comfortable? Maybe it's better if you lay on a pillow"

"Nope, you're my comfiest pillow"

John scoffed with a half smile and kissed your head.

"Wanna watch something on Netflix?"

"Nope, too tired" You muttered, cuddling closer to his chest.

John's lips curved in a smile as he brushed his thumb against your right cheekbone.

He then scrolled through his phone, answering all the text messages the people he knew sent him ahead of your baby girl's birth.

"What are you doing?" You really wanted and needed to crack some sleep but your mind wasn't agreeing as the level of adrenaline in your body was still too high, plus you wanted to stay awake to spend some time with John and checking on Iris.

"Answering all the texts they've sent for Iris"

"Read me some" You wanted nothing more than to bask in the sweet words of people congratulating you, saying how beautiful your baby was and how strong you've been through all the process. After all you deserved all those sweet words: bringing a child into the world is something so brave people tend to underestimate sometimes.

John pressed play on a voice note from Kyle that made you both laugh, then read you one from Jack and at that moment your own phone rang with a notification and you asked John to check who it was from.

"It's from Sasha, she answered the pic you posted with "congrats you gorgeous mama"

"Aww she's always the sweetest"

"Well, you're everything but gorgeous now…"

"HEY" You threw a fist against his bicep with the little strength that was left in you. "I just pushed your daughter out of my vagina, you should be a little more grateful"

John loved getting on your nerves, making your thin-skinned side come to surface. He giggled, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

"I know I look awful and I stink as I really need to take a shower but I can't, I'm so tired" The whiny tone you pronounced those last words with was about to turn into a desperate cry but John took action just in time.

"You know I was joking" He took your face in his hands to look right into your eyes "I'd get you pregnant again right now if I could"

"Liar"

He laughed and kissed your forehead.

"I'll help you with the shower later on"

When your baby whined a little in her sleep the little yelp caught your attention as you both turned your heads towards the crib.

"There's the blanket over there, put it over her" You gestured for him to take the pink honeycomb blanket to cover your baby girl's sleeping body.

She looked so cute with that tiny blanketyou fell in love with as soon as your eyes took sight of it on the shop’s shelf and you had no doubt it would have been perfect for your beautiful baby.

“Can you believe we made her?” You asked John in awe as he was lovingly tucking her in. You got up to join him, encircling his waist with your right arm and putting your head against his bicep. "We made her teeny tiny feet, those little hands..."

“Yeah…you know what they say?”

“What?”

“Daughters tend to be more similar to their dads in the looks”

“So?”

“So if she’s beautiful that’s all thanks to me... even Kyle said it”

Another thing the collective consciousness ignored was the post pregnancy period: the danger of post-pregnancy depression was real but you knew you had the most handsome dad in the world who would have helped you along the path, even when the downs would have outnumbered the ups.

“Yeah Stones…I think you and your friend need some sleep too…you’re hallucinating”

And no, you weren't upset at all: you only wished for your daughter to be the carbon copy of her amazing father. So you hoped deep down your heart the Kyle was right.

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scorpiusmalfoylovesoscarwilde · 5 months ago

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I've said it before, I'll say it again, and I'm sure it won't be the last time. I AM SICK AND BLOODY TIRED OF THESE MFS, HALF OF WHO DONT EVEN CARE ABOUT CURSED CHILD, BITCHING AND MOANING ABOUT AN ANGSTY TEEN DARING TO BE AN ANGSTY TEEN, I WILL FIGHT THE LOT OF YOU

(this is gonna be a bit long and probably incoherent so sit down and fucking listen to me 🔫 stick with me because I'm not just complaining about albus haters)

eVERYBODY wants cOoMmpllEeXx relatable HUMAN characters - and then SHIT themselves when the flaws a CHILD has isn't just 🥺 uwu im socially awkward and traumatised 🥺. that's why scorpius doesn't get this fuckass treatment, because his terrible human flaw is that he's a bit shit at conversation and gets sad about his dead mum (generalised understatement, but this post isnt about him. dont come for me i love him 🫶🏻)

god forbid albus, who feels unloved and unwanted (with valid evidence for a teenager), albus who feels completely out of place and outcast from his entire famously-close-knit family, ablus who is well known by the world by default via Harry and hates the attention and high expectations, albus who then gets targeted and bullied by his peers because he's not as perfect and brilliant as his father, albus who is then isolated from his one friend because Harry is making irrational ptsd fueled decisions, albus who tells Harry completely sincerely that he knows he's unlikeable but he'll try and change himself and be more like his siblings because he genuinely believes that's what Harry and everyone else whos had the misfortune of meeting him wants, albus who spends the entire play trying to prove himself and fix things via idiotic childish decisions BECAUSE HES A WHOLE UNSTABLE CHILD

god forbid that CHILD doesn't react like a patient, supported, well adjusted, level headed adult. god forbid he reacts outwardly. god forbid he reacts at all, my bad. clearly he should just sniffle a bit as if he doesn't feel suffocated and helpless by everything in his life, because obviously hes just a spoiled brat who doesn't know what real suffering is. god forbid he complains or feels anything negatively, or doesn't quite grasp that other people are struggling too because he is too busy trying so hard to deal with himself and his declining mental health the best he can with basically no support or understanding. god forbid he isn't completely perfect.

you all sound like some fucking boomer telling teenagers they don't know what real struggling is, they aren't mentally ill, they dont have any problems because they have a roof over their head, they should all go to war kids are too soft these days 😫😖😱 fUCKING‼️SHUT UP‼️

he does things wrong but he knows he does and he does everything he can to fix it! and he is fourteen!!! do none of you remember what being fourteen is like 😭😭 I swear half of you have got to be basically fourteen yourselves cmon man

cause I'm seeing this fucking pattern a lot recently. not just for albus, not just in this fandom, everywhere. ‼️ no one can fucking handle flawed characters anymore ‼️ the only thing any character is allowed to have wrong with them is trauma apparently, otherwise they have to be perfect, and I'm getting sick of it. characters and stories are meant to reflect real life, they're meant to help shape our world view, why are you expecting everyone to be fucking perfect??? what happened to nuance? what happened to understanding character development? you are all acting like characters and people are so black and white. either they're perfect or they're insufferable and evil. I won't lie, the most common victims i've noticed of this are women. but the flawed women are typically demonised, whereas the men are typically turned into uwu baby boys who actually aren't capable of doing anything wrong and then fanon goes nuts making them into ittle wittle victims. and I'm so fucking sick of all of it, I hate this. (obviously this is not a strict rule. Albus Potter, and also Albus Dumbledore now I mention it, are demonised beyond belief)

BRING BACK FLAWS AND BRING BACK NOT COMPLETELY WRITING OFF A CHARACTER BECAUSE THEY DARE TO BE HUMAN

I AM FED UP, ALBUS POTTER GET BEHIND ME

#he did many things wrong BUT I PROMISE YOU HE IS MORE AWARE THAN YOU ARE #HE HATES HIMSELF MORE THAN YOU EVER COULD #this post has been building a lot because i just kEEP SEEING ALBUS HATERS AND ITS DRIVING ME INSANE #i am albus potters defence lawyer actually #also eloise bridgertons i am seeing far too many people jumping on that hate train #i know shes going through her im not like other girls i hate pink phase but OF COURSE SHE IS #SHE LIVES IN THE 1800S WOMEN ARENT ALLOWED TO DO SHIT SHE FEELS TRAPPED IN A BOX AND ALL SHE SEES IS OTHER PEOPLE PLAYING THEIR PARTS #i could talk about her a lot more but this isnt the time or place 😔✋🏻 eloise bridgerton they could never make me hate you #also sansa stark i havent even watched game of thrones but i would fight to the death to defend her #her only crime was being a naive child and yet people hate her mercilessly #these are the people coming to me off the top of my head but there are countless fucking others #we are witnessing the death of media literacy and the death of nuance and its killing me i cannot fucking do this #i sincerely hope anyone complaining about al dont ever have teenage children because they will be shit at supporting or understanding them #hpcc #harry potter #albus potter #scorpius malfoy #years spent on tumblr and i still dont know how to tag #albus severus potter #harry potter and the cursed child #scorbus #is it cheeky if i tag bridgerton or game of thrones?#it feels cheeky 😔#the marauders #tagging that too because that fandom are fucking perpetrators of this #(said as someone in it dont come for me)

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foreverisntenough · 5 months ago

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‘OURS’

Summary: You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

INDEX

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestion, SMUT (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, parenting, mental health struggles, eating disorder, self doubt, body image issues, daddy kink, angst, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! Try not to nitpick with any real pregnant/ baby logistics it’s better if you just read along happily :)

Extra Extreme Warning! This chapter focus on mental health struggles and body image issues (depression and ed) It’s a little dark so if that is at all potentially triggering to you please be advised and do not interact.

Chapter 19 - Can't Do It Anymore | ‘Ours’

“I can’t do it anymore!” You screamed with tears running down your face. You were grown but you felt like a little girl. Your mum standing in front of you in your bedroom angry as she's ever been.

“Stop! Stop it, We’re going.” She demanded. She was stern and not going to back down. It was the summer before you left for university. A fresh 18 year old eager to get away from the exact scene unfolding in front of you. Your mum was forcing you to attend a gala event she had every year. She was intimidatingly kind but often kept her feet firm in her way of tough love. You loved a good party, maybe a little too much but forcing a smile and talking about what your college courses would consist of next year to business men that stood too close and inappropriately inspected every inch of you. It was a secret to everyone but your mum and Winnie and even they pretended they didn’t know. The way the sheath dress hung off your body reflecting back at your mum in the mirror only amplified the skeletal arch of your spine.

“Fine… you want me to go. I’ll fucking go.” You murmured brushing past her heading straight to the en-suite of your room. You chugged a liter of vodka you'd dashed under the sink and popped one too many of your prescribed xanax in an unprescribed way. You collapsed in the bathroom before you could make it out of the house, ruining your night, your mum's prized annual gala, and probably Winnie’s perception of you forever. She had gone to your bathroom initially to steal some of the new blush you had gotten. She was met with something entirely different; finding you laying on the floor. They rushed you to hospital in an ambulance.

“She’s extremely malnourished.” The attending doctor spoke calmly to your parents outside the room in the corridor. Your dad’s gaze narrowing at you laying in the harshly lit room. Your mum’s face pulling into disgust and shock, offended the doctor could imply something like that.

“She’s just thin. Please.” She scoffed, taken aback that you could be anything but fabulously waift. She hated the way the doctor infered she had not taken care of you somehow. She had given you everything, look at you, you were gorgeous but the hospital gown wasn't exactly chic.

“Ann Marie… listen to them. She’s killing herself. Enough.” Your dad quipped. They loved you in their own ways; your dad thought of you like little girls, your mum as if you were her little dolls. Things slowed after the incident and there was a much closer eye on you. Your mum still pushed, your dad still pulled, and Winnie sat somewhere in the middle. You got relatively healthy, at least enough to pass on scales and keep the chaos at bay but things bubbled under the surface. Suppressing anything that may rock the boat of familial perfection. You and Lauren had just returned to Manhattan after a weekend out east at your parents when she found you in your own sick. Chase had come over the night you returned from the beach. You and Lauren lived together and she wasn’t keen opening the door to see him but he was handsome and a good fuck so she shrugged it off. It wasn’t really him exactly… it wasn’t him. Chase sucked no shadow of a doubt but you couldn’t blame him. It could’ve been any man. It really could’ve been anyone but you just happened to fall into his terribly mean arms on one night you blacked out and found yourself waking up in his bed. The tectonic plates of the earth shifted, mentally handcuffing yourself to this awful person.

“Still the same for me?” He’d ask you ahead of coming over. He kept tabs on the size of your clothes, the condition of your skin, the way your hair fell. You didn’t eat all day and he fucked the daylights out of you that night after you confirmed you had kept the circumference of your waist just the same as he liked, anything to get him to like you. He shoved his cock down your throat until you were sobbing, he didn't like you, he liked the high of using you. “You want me to love you, Y/N? That’s all you want? Take my fucking cock and I’ll think about it.” He’d mock you, railing into you from behind. You hated that your body craved him. That’s all you thought about. How? How do you get someone like this to like you? Why did you want it so bad? You did it all for him with zero return except for the brutal fuck he'd deliver. Lauren called Winnie sobbing. She knocked on your door early the next day curious to see how the night went but you were there limp in your bed sick.

“Well she’s breathing right? Jesus Christ! What did you do last night?” Winnie screamed freaking out that Lauren had found you like this and yet simultaneously angry with you. This was the second time someone was finding you like this.

“I don’t know I… I.. she was with fucking Chase last night… fuck!” Lauren cried. The problem wasn’t Chase, what you ate, or your mum, the problem was you. You did it on purpose but no one mentioned it to you. No one said it. Ignorance was bliss. You were discharged again and everything moved on. Texts from Chase still coming in oblivious to the state he walked out on you in despite Lauren’s barrage of messages to leave you alone. You just threw your phone off the bed feeling just the same as the days prior only now slightly more weak. You curled on your bed just wanting it all to fade away until morning the broke, the annoyingly bright sun refusing to lend you the peace you so badly craved. Why did you want him to love you so badly? Did you really hate him or yourself for being with him. Either way, you just wanted to be loved, that was abundantly clear. You walked into your parent’s kitchen in an oversized t-shirt sleepily and groggy. They made you move back with them for a few months to rehabilitate.

“Trent Alexander Arnold has pinned one in for Liverpool!” The echo from the TV in the connecting room blasting in the late morning as you reached up into a cupboard.

“Get in! Come on” Your dad yelled cheering. His loud booming voice making you jump. He heard you fumble the glass of water you were trying to get yourself so he turned to you mid-celebration. “Y/N, you okay? Come watch with me. The kid I swear... He's amazing” He shook his head in disbelief at the goal just scored by the man who would eventually ask him to marry you. A glint flashed in your eyes.

“He’s cute…” You mumbled to your dad coming over to sit with him analyzing the camera’s close zoom on Trent’s face. His lips curling into the same dimpled smile your daughter had now ricocheting around in your mind finding its permanent home to replay on a loop.

“Talented.” Your dad corrected you as he looked on more impressed with the tactical skill than Trent’s looks.

“Sure” You rolled your eyes and pulled your legs up onto the couch. Wrapping your arms around your knees.

“About your age you know?” Your dad informed you. That was interesting. You wondered what Trent’s life was like? This stupidly attractive stranger on the TV. You were the same age crying over a pathetic Manhattan party boy last night. Your mind wandered and you began to wonder if Trent lived a life anything like Chase and all the other boys surrounding you; using looks and status to blow through girls and money on nights out. You cocked your head looking a bit closer at his eyes and you felt your heart involuntarily softening. Imagine if he was really really sweet. “How we feeling today?” Your dad intruded the delusions seeping into your brain. You hummed lost in your own thoughts. “Can’t even conjure up a lie for me today?” He laughed sympathetically and quietly turning to face you.

“Nah.” You finally gave him half an answer. Your eyes fixated on the game now waiting for the camera to catch glimpses of the boy you might’ve just fallen in love with. What if he was nice? What if he was nice to you? God, if he was nice to you you'd love him forever, and you did. He had a chock hold grip on your heart.

“Want a beer?” Your dad cut your thoughts off once more. You furrowed your brow confused what he was asking you.

“Dad?” You snapped out of your reverie about a person you didn’t know feeling stupid imagining a world you didn’t live in, you didn’t deserve that, and certainly the boy flashing across the tv wasn’t going to be the one to give it to you.

“It’s 8 pm where I am right now.” Your dad laughed again dreaming he was back at Anfield’s stadium tonight instead of on your family’s couch. You hummed, finally wrapping your head around his sentiment. “Let’s go on your thanksgiving break.” He cooed.

“To?” You turned your body towards him on the couch for the first time taking your eyes off the screen in minutes. You were interested in anything he was offering that might potentially whisk you out of your current place in the world.

“To Anfield. You’ll love it” Your dad assured you. Loving anything right now felt like a cruel joke but of course you’d go. 8 pm under the floodlights of Anfield with the beer your dad wanted so desperately you watched admiring the boy who would end up being nicer to you than anyone ever had been.

You changed for the match and you definitely didn’t look good. Winnie FaceTimed Teddy and Dianne for you as you rushed around your hotel room. You did the best you could to not burst right into tears looking back at the cutest face you’d ever seen in your life. The bright wide eyes gleaming mirroring Trent’s exactly seeing her mummy. It was wrong but you hadn’t even responded to any of Trent’s messages from last night yet this morning. You didn’t tell Winnie that. You couldn’t. You couldn’t answer all the questions he had and you didn’t want to answer any more of hers. Honestly, you didn’t know the answers to them. When you arrived at the stadium you prayed for some sort of invisibility shield. That wasn’t going to happen. You were radiating an energy that just reeked of misfortune, you felt eyes burning into you. Trent scanned the stadium for you before you had arrived. Seats left for you and Winnie empty while he warmed up. Marcel sitting there alone also awaiting your arrival. When the two teams lined up ahead of the anthem he finally clocked you. Trent looked fucking livid. You’d never seen him give that face to you. You started crying. You watched him shut his eyes in slow motion, his heart breaking in real time. Winnie squeezed your shoulder. You batted your eyes to try to clear the tears. Your view of Trent blurring then clearing then blurring again. Your heart aching painfully. Trent played incredible. It maybe was the best half of football you’d seen him play. It made you sick thinking maybe you had potentially been a cause for any dips in his form. That not having you around somehow made him better. The second half began. Only a few minutes passed before Trent rocketed home a shot from outside the box. The stadium erupted celebrating the goal and you never felt more silenced. He ran to the corner flag and swung at it with real fire. He screamed while his teammates engulfed him. Media and the crowd probably perceived the celebration as passion but you knew… Winnie and Marcel knew... Jadon who now walked himself into the middle of a horrible situation knew. You sat on your hands watching the game clock tick on. Jadon looked at Winnie and hinted for her to check her phone. No one was really talking between the four of you. It was so awkward. Winnie picked up her phone and nonchalantly tilted the screen away from you, leaning back in her seat reading Jadon's message.

‘Trent knows this is going on, right? He needs to help her, Win.’

Winnie sighed reading it trying to hold back the wave of emotion crashing over her. Of course, Trent knew. You were getting married. He knew everything, he just had never experienced such a low of yours in real time. It was easy to love someone when you only heard about their past. You can forgive them for something you weren’t even there for. Something you’d never had to have experienced. Trent loved you for all that you are but seeing you wither after the birth of your baby wasn’t on his bingo card. Liverpool won and Trent stood on the pitch hands on his hips staring up into the sky still while the team scattered around the pitch jumping in celebration. They won and yet he felt worse than ever. Before the trophy presentation he ran down the tunnel. Marcel made you go with him down to meet him. God, there was nothing in the world you wanted to do less than face Trent right now. You made Winnie come with you for moral support. You saw him walk towards you. Full kit, sweaty, perfect, beautiful. You couldn’t believe he was at his very best when you weren’t with him, seeing him in all his glory at the very top and you at your very lowest. Producing a man of the match performance and you producing maybe the biggest fuck up or your life. You were in your own world of thought when his curt words cut you off.

“Where were you?” That was all he said. Cold, keeping his distance from you.

“T…” you pleaded with your eyes falling into pools. Tears already gathering in your eyes.

“No, where the fuck were you?” He snapped again. Winnie stood off to the side of the corridor. She didn’t know how to help. She felt horrible like somehow this was her fault. It wasn’t at all but she couldn’t help the guilt she felt having been at the club with you, having drank so much with you. She tried to help.

“Trent, she was…” Winnie began to try to talk but that was not going to fly. Trent didn’t want to hear from anyone but you. This was for you and him to sort.

“Winnie, let her fucking answer. Where were you? Tell me.” You weren’t sure you’d ever heard this tone of voice. It scared you. You felt your bones shake. It was like you were being reprimanded in a principal's office except you weren’t. You were being reprimanded by your fiancé in front of your sister and friends, somehow making it all the worse.

“The hotel, the hotel. I swear.” You started to hyperventilate. You were having a panic attack in the tunnels of Wembley. This was a fucking disaster. Trent believed you. He didn’t want to but he knew you. He’d know if you were lying. Your answer flooded out drenched in honesty and fear. You felt your chest start to contract and tighten. He couldn’t look at you anymore. It hurt too much.

“I have to go…” he sighed, running his hands over his head frustrated. He was almost annoyed that nothing happened. He was wildly relieved you were safe and standing in front of him in one piece but annoyed he couldn’t pick one thing to harp on to decidedly be angry about. All this chaos for what? “I need to go be with my fucking team. Marce is taking you home.” He quipped pulling his jersey over his head revealing his stupidly hot body. You tried to distract yourself but it was hard, he looked really good.

“What?” You asked utterly confused. What did he mean you were going home? Your mind couldn’t keep up with his. The visual stimulant of his naked torso, your blinding headache, and the noise from a rowdy stadium concocting into a right mess.

“I don’t want you here.” He shut his eyes saying it. He hated saying it but he meant it. He had a hard time looking at you right now. He was so weak against you and right now he was pissed. He didn’t want to cave, he didn’t want to give himself any more time or opportunity to. The emotions rising in your chest swelled with the bile in your throat. It burned and it hurt. Your brain was completely scrambled. You couldn’t process that he just rejected you, turned you away. To be fair, everyone standing there was surprised. Trent dapped up Marcel and Jadon and swiftly headed back out onto the pitch. Nothing more said, not even a goodbye. You were completely stunned and frozen in your place. Trent was determined to do anything to get you off his mind but everything reminded him of you. You were ubiquitous. Lifting the trophy was nothing but a burden. It was heavy, he was tired and disinterested. Proud of his team but disinterested.

Marcel drove you home all the way back up towards Manchester and to say it was awkward was an understatement. You cried about 5 times. He’d just turn the music up a little more each time letting you fall apart. You didn’t want him to acknowledge it. He was doing it for both of you. No one really knew what happened, you included. It was one big blur but everyone knew in a way that you had gone awol last night so Marcel didn’t really have anything to say to you until you finally arrived to your house.

“Do you want me to stay? I don’t want to talk but I also don’t want you alone.” Marcel asked you as he pulled into your drive. It was quintessential Marce. He didn’t really want to deal with any of this but he was way too empathetic to just drop it all, no questions asked. He was still your friend, Trent aside. Although right now he felt more like Trent’s brother than your friend.

“I’m fine. I promise. Thank you.” You lied blatantly getting out of the car and he knew it. You didn’t expect him to but he got out of his car to help you with your luggage. The bags you had filled with outfits you would no longer get to wear this weekend celebrating with Trent now.

“It’ll be fine.” He gave you a hug and it was like his reassuring words broke the damn down. You began to sob heavily. He stepped back from you not surprised but he was upset that you were upset. He felt bad but he also was a little annoyed with you so he needed to let go. He dragged his hand over his face and pivoted without looking back at you. He turned around though when he opened the drivers side of his car. “I know whatever happened was a mistake, Y/N, but he does a fucking lot for you, ya know? I’m not saying you don’t but he really moves fucking mountains for you and sometimes… fuck.” He sighed looking at you defeated as you stood awkwardly at your garage door awaiting the dagger he was about to twist into you. “I don’t know, you just expect him to. Like you take it as a given, for granite.” You opened your mouth to respond. “I gotta go.” He shook his head and left before you could say anything. Cut to, Trent had finally returned home. It was tense and it was painfully uncomfortable for the fleeting moments before the highly anticipated fight erupted. The second he walked in the door you shuddered. You two stood a good 3 yards apart yelling in voices you never used in your kitchen.

“You know what that would fucking look like if someone saw any of this?” Trent spat at you frustrated you didn’t understand the point he was trying to make. You had explained to him the extent of your night that you could remember. He was less than impressed but right now he sounded like your mum and it made you feel horrible. Thoughts of all of the times she scolded you telling you ‘what would people think.’ the image of her sat at the edge of a hospital bed appeared in your head.

“Why do you care what it fucking would look like?” You snapped back at him more annoyed at the remembrance of your mum than him. The sting felt the same no matter whose mouth it was coming from.

“Because I care about you… Do you see yourself lately? I know with the wedding and the baby it’s stressful but have you looked in the mirror lately? I know how often you’ve been weighing yourself.” The way he said his last sentence was almost threatening. Trent wasn’t dumb and you weren’t exactly trying to hide either. He saw the scale pulled out on your shared bathroom floor every morning. The measuring tape you kept tucked in your drawer just to make sure everything was ‘on track’ lingering after effects from Chase like scars.

“I can’t fucking look in the mirror, Trent” You snapped and the flood gates opened. You started balling. It took everything in him not to just grab for you. Hold you. Fix this. Tell you it was fine except this time it wasn’t. Nothing was fine right now.

“What the fuck honestly, I’m at a fucking boiling point. I can't do it anymore. You have a daughter, Y/N! Do you want her to grow up to be like you?” Trent shouted at you, really starting to lose his temper.

“Do you? Do you want her to be like me?” You asked him incredibly, even more offended than his words echoing your mother’s. Your tears were blurring your vision entirely. You couldn’t make out the face you knew. The face you loved. The one that brought you so much comfort. Right now, your entire life looked to have a smudged haze over it all.

“Fucking hell, Y/N. Can you please not cry all the time?” He pleaded with you having a hard time keeping his distance from you. He was so angry with you but so conflicted with the affection he wanted to show you. You only stood on opposite sides of the kitchen island at the moment but you felt worlds apart.

“I can’t! I can’t do this anymore. It’s too much. This is all too much.” You were sobbing at this point clinging onto the lip of the marble slab countertop.

“No, I am not letting you do this.” He hated when you cried. Seeing you right now so upset made him sick to his stomach but pushed him past his normal point of concern into a state of rage. “Why do you fucking treat yourself like this!?! I don’t fucking understand it!” He continued to seethe with fury. He looked at you waiting for an answer. An incredibly deafening silence falling over the room.

“Because I fucking hate everything about me. What don’t you fucking understand about that. You expect me to be this perfect version 24/7 but I’m not. I’m not!” You kept crying. “I’m sorry. Fuck! I’m sorry, I’m trying but I can’t be like you, okay?” You whimpered, feeling defeated and broken. It felt like you could never measure up to the golden boy that was in the room with you. No matter where you went or what you did he was always going to look sparkly and new, fantastical and interesting and you couldn’t feel more opposite. Having a baby completely ransacked you. You were far from new. You had been stripped of a sense of individualisation and identity. You were Teddy’s mum and Trent’s fiance. Y/N didn’t matter, anyone could fill in the blank of your name. The icing on the cake was the image you were trying to uphold all the while.

“Why do you always have to guilt me? I didn’t do anything here, Y/N, you did! You did this.” He snapped at you once more, moving to be a bit more accusatory. In a more mindful state you probably would’ve understood his reasoning but it just felt like a personal attack at the moment.

“I step out of line once and it…” you tried to rebuttal but he wasn’t having it. He cut you off before you could even think of what your next word was going to be.

“Out of line? Out of line? No, baby.” You heard him use the pet name out of habit and it sent a shiver running down your spine. That was not the way you liked to hear that word. After that, you had an even harder time keeping up with his words so transfixed on the snippy way he had said ‘baby.’ “You went missing and said fuck all untill I saw you in the stadium… you were in London alone. The mother of my fucking child, my baby.” Trent felt like he was about to start crying so he turned away from you dropping his head in his hands. ”My baby, my beautiful girl just fucking gone and you didn’t care! You didn’t care one bit” He whimpered a bit quieter than you’d heard him talk all day. You couldn’t get a word in fast enough before his anger rushed back. “God fuck… why do you not care!?! You not caring hurts me! It hurts our daughter! You can’t fucking do this!” He cried out. You were shaking. Your one hand pressed onto your sinuses attempting to relieve the pressure you thought was going to make your head explode. Your other hand’s nails were digging so painfully deep into your palm you were sure you were about to break the skin.

“I’m not trying to hurt you! It’s me okay? I know it’s me. I’m shit. I get it. You’ve made that so fucking clear... that I’m not allowed to make mistakes. That I’m not allowed to falter from the caliber of excellence you live in everyday.” Your words fell into a slightly sassier sarcastic tone that made Trent twitch with anger but then sadness crashed back over you dripping onto your next words. “I can’t handle the pressure T, I really can't. I know that you deserve more than this. You deserve to have someone so much better fit for you. and it's not me” You sniffled out. Your lip quivering, your mascara running.

“I am done with this. If you fucking still think that I moved you to another country to be with me, I made a home for us here, had a child with you, that I want to fucking marry you is not enough. That's on you. Honestly, I’m fucking done. Have a good fucking time in New York tomorrow. Don't stay out too late and maybe fucking try to take care of yourself because I’m done doing it for you.” He quipped storming out of the room. You ran to the kitchen sink and threw up nausea hitting you instantly. Leaning over the deep farmhouse sink. He heard you and shut his eyes. He couldn’t turn back. If he did, he knew he’d cave. You had originally planned to fly to New York again tomorrow but right now running the fuck away from all of this never felt like such a perfectly yet equally terrible idea. You already had your packed bags by the door the next day when Trent came down early, Teddy still asleep. You had slept in the guest room. Although ‘sleeping’ was probably a stretch. You just lied awake staring at the ceiling wavering in out of fits of tears. You couldn't say bye to Teddy, you didn’t want to say bye to him. You wanted to disappear and leave them so things would be better for them. It was for them you told yourself. Trent looked at you from a distance with a blank face. You bite your bottom lip trying so hard not to fall apart. He let out a deep sigh. He walked towards you and your whole body tensed. He wrapped one of his arms around your shoulder blades high on your back and pressed his lips to your forehead. The embrace felt so foreign. Tears began streaming down your face. “I hate how much I love you and I hate how much you don’t.” The way his lips felt on your skin almost stung. It was one of the most harrowing out of body experiences. It truly felt like that was going to be the last time he’d ever kiss you. That would be your last memory of his lips on you. He could feel how limp you were to his touch. He pulled away with his eyes shut and just let you walk out the door. His face fell. You couldn’t get any words to come out of your mouth. You couldn’t pick your eyes up to see him. He couldn’t understand but the pain you were in was palpable, thick in the room. It destroyed him to see you walking out of your house, your home. He tried so hard to hold it together. He tried absolutely everything he could but he fell to the ground. Crouching with his head in his hands. He began to cry. He felt weak and stupid but in the same way you felt that that may have been the last time together, he felt just the same. Suddenly it all scared him terribly that he had lost you, he had pushed you too far. You were his whole world but he had told you he didn’t want you around, he told you he didn’t want to take care of you. The feelings were still prevalent but it was like his heart was bleeding. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He told you he hated that he loved you. You couldn’t wrap your head around it. A part of you yearned pathetically for him to try to stop you from leaving for this pointless trip. You felt your heartbeat slow to a point where you weren’t sure it was beating anymore. Your chest hurt so bad it felt like your body might have begun to shut down entirely and with this emotional feeling you thought that it might be the only way out of it. Everything had drained of its color watching the door close to your home, your family, your baby, the love of your life shutting you out as your uber pulled away.

Trent didn’t tell anyone how bad things really had gotten between you two. He was always private but he couldn’t talk about this. He didn’t tell anyone that his Hollywood film romance was crumbling before you two had even got to the altar. He knew if he told George, Marcel, Tyler, or Jude they’d try to fix it and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He was so angry. He didn’t love you any less but he just felt helpless. When he went to bed that night he found himself staring at your Van Cleef necklace he’d given you all those years ago. The one. He got so angry seeing it, seeing you left it behind. It felt like a part of you was leaving him, like you had given up. He held it in his hands imagining your warm skin and delicate décolletage it was supposed to be laid over. He was so indignant. Emotionally charged he yanked the necklace apart, splitting it into two pieces. He felt sick. It hit him like a ton of bricks. He couldn't believe he just did that. That necklace was your relationship and he just destroyed it. He sat with the two pieces of chain, one in each hand. You two separated.

You were terrified about leaving Teddy but you couldn’t do anything but leave. You couldn’t move. She would be better off with the loving stable Alexander-Arnold family not the disaster you felt you were at the moment. Dianne had her, well Trent did, but when he was at training she would make sure she was okay. You got to New York and didn’t tell a soul you were there. Not your parents, Winnie, or Lauren. You wanted to be alone. You laid in your new apartment on the king sized bed you’d never even had a chance to sleep in with Trent yet. It was the most chilling depressing way to be reminded he wasn’t with you and that he didn’t want you with him. Did he want it all to really end? You were replaying your last conversations over and over analyzing every word he said and inflection of his voice when a Daily Mail article notification dropped down from the top of your phone screen.

‘Trent Alexander-Arnold seen out on a date in Manchester with a mystery women ahead of his previously planned summer wedding. Has the American dream come to an end?’

Your face fell. You were pretty sure all the air had left your lungs, your brain short circuited. You zoomed in on the photo only inflicting more pain on yourself. You’d never seen the women in the photo in your life. She had curves and a full figure but still slender in all the right places. She looked like if Instagram was a person. You looked… not like that. A confirmation published globally echoing every thought you’ve ever had. You were not what he really wanted. This was all too good to be true and you were never going to measure up. The thought of him with someone else made you sick. The thought of another woman making him smile was somehow worse than anything else you could’ve possibly seen. He was holding the door for her, dimples deepened in his cheeks, his glowing smile mocking you. He hadn’t smiled at you in days now but that face from the tv was burned into your memory. You were a mess. You couldn’t cope without him. You felt completely lost. You felt like you were a missing person when you weren’t with him. You thought you were going to be sick the longer you stared at the images. You ran to the bathroom. You slipped on a rug and smacked your face on the porcelain toilet. You leaned over the toilet and vomited but you simultaneously could make out the drops of blood dripping off your face onto the seat through your hazy vision. ‘Fuck’ you cursed under your breath. The tears falling from your face dropping down to join the rest of the releases.

You sank into the warm water filled to the brim of the bathtub in your apartment. For some reason that had become your place of habit during whatever chaotic episode you currently were inhabiting. You slipped down into the water, letting the full bath completely cover and engulf your body. You closed your eyes. You could feel yourself crying but you couldn’t tell submerged in the water. You couldn’t believe what just happened, what you had lost in days time. Bubbles rose to the surface of the bath as you opened your mouth and screamed repeatedly underwater. When you emerged from the bath you were gasping and coughing excessively, somehow getting air to your lungs even more difficult now than when you were under the bath water. The tears returned now racing down your cheeks as you sobbed. You wanted out. This is what was best. Just get out, that's what was on your mind. You slid back under the water once more. A rage filled scream muffled by the water filling your mouth. Words repeating in your brain ‘please just get me out of here’ ‘give my baby a better mum than this’ ‘let Trent find someone perfectly matched for him.’

“Hey, you good? What’s up?” Lauren answered a call from Marcel. It was a little odd for him to call her. Naturally her curiosity peaked. Was he in New York? She felt like you would’ve said something if he was. They were on good terms but he was also well aware that she was with Jude now so she didn’t think he’d try to push to hang out now. Her intrigue only growing.

“Hey, you’re in Manhattan?” He asked hesitantly, also feeling fairly weird about this call but he needed someone to check on you. His anxiety had been piling up over the last day or so. Lauren didn’t even know you had come to New York. She was shocked to even hear that let alone the next things about to come out of his mouth. Again, you just wanted to get out of Liverpool. You’d told no one. It had been a little over a day since you had arrived. You didn’t reach out and you hadn’t heard from anyone back at home either. Well, maybe from Marcel and Dianne but you had selfishly and unfairly chosen not to respond to either. Really, you were fixated on the fact that most noticeably you hadn’t heard from Trent. You canceled any of the appointments you had planned to attend for wedding planning opting to rot in your bed in hopes of achieving escapism.

“I need you to go and check on Y/N. Trent said she flew to go over some wedding stuff but she hasn’t responded to me. He hasn’t either to any messages. Something is going on with them. There was this big mess before the match this past weekend.” He rambled on frantically trying to explain best he could but really emphasize that he just needed Lauren to find you and make sure you were fine, why didn’t really matter. She was confused to say the least. Even when you and Trent had stupid bickering fights she’d still hear about it. Yet this? This.. she didn’t hear a peep and this was far different from bickering over who forgot to unload a dishwasher. Lauren agreed, remembering that she had a key to your new apartment in Manhattan in case someone needed to get in when you weren’t there. You might’ve been there physically at the moment, but you were far from being there mentally that’s for sure. Lauren hurried the fastest she possibly could up to your apartment, the urgency in Marcel’s voice making her incredibly nervous. Her worst fears fueling her speed. She unlocked the door and walked inside only adding more confusion and fear to her scrambling brain because your phone's location had said you were there but the apartment was empty. It was quiet until she heard water in the bathroom. You opened your eyes beneath the surface of the water in a moment of desperation trying to stop overthinking what you were doing only for you to find yourself gasping and in taking a ton of water when you saw Lauren’s figure blurred above the water beside the bathtub.You didn’t have a moment of time to even react before Lauren frenziedly reached into the full tub and yanked you out aggressively immediately wrapping you in her arms over the ledge. Your soaking wet naked body drenching her dry clothes. She dragged your very limp body out.

“Y/N, what the fuck is going on!?!?!” Lauren screamed, starting to uncontrollably cry. It didn’t look good. You felt so young again saved by Lauren once more. You blinked your swollen eyes trying to clear them of the water blurring them. You slumped back onto the cold side of the tub on the bathroom floor. She shook your shoulders trying to get you to come to and answer her. She was absolutely terrified and rightfully so. “Okay, okay. Jesus!” She ran her hands over her head in panic and shock. “You’re gonna be fine. I’ll… erm… I’ll call T.” She rattled off trying to think what to do. She knew that’s what this was about.

“You can’t!” You attempted to scream at her but you didn’t even have any strength left shaking from the shock and from the cold air hitting your wet skin.

“Shit…” She cursed. Laurens chest started heaving. She was trying her very hardest not to fall into her own panic attack finding you like this. “Why, Y/N? Why?” She tried to be sensitive but she was angry for finding you like this.

“He ended it. He’s done…” You whimpered out devastated hearing each word fall out of your mouth. You felt like you were going to throw up imagining life without him.

“What do you mean he's done? You’re getting married so soon. Just try to relax here.” Lauren asked, perplexed because Marcel said things were off, not that you and Trent had split.

“No… we’re not, okay? Just shut up, please!” You wailed. Heartbroken by the reality of what was all setting in now. Not only what was going on between you and Trent but the situation you had just put Lauren in, the way you left your daughter, the state you were currently in. Tears cascading down your face with no sign of stopping any time soon.

“Hey! Enough. You’re not doing this.” Lauren scolded you demanding you cut this shit out immediately. She stood up stoic as ever just staring at you.

“You sound just fucking like him.” You screamed back at her dropping your head back behind you feeling incredibly dizzy. You wiped at your face, unable to stop the emotions flooding out of you.

“Y/N… no. We’ve done this. You’ve done this over really shitty things. This is and will not be one of them. You’re not doing it. Get up!” She continued to yell at you sternly commanding you with a scowl on her face. You looked at her confused that she was angry at you. Everyone was angry at you and the only thing that could possibly make it better was rewind time to go be back in your bed at home with your daughter and Trent but that was miles and miles away and probably not likely to happen again. Lauren made you stand up with her help on shaky legs, forcing you under freezing cold water for a moment in an effort to practice some sort of distress tolerance. She sat on the edge of the sink as you stood with tears falling at the same rate the water did from the shower head. She didn’t trust you right now to leave the room. You got out and wrapped yourself in a towel and sat yourself on your bed shaking. Yes, you were cold but also just riddled with so much anxiety. You couldn’t believe you had ruined everything. You had everything you could ever want. You sat there for a long while trying to explain the situation to Lauren through several breaks unable to calm your breath. Although your story probably was a little one sided as you really only relayed the more harsh things Trent had said. ‘I don’t want you here,’ ‘I’m done with this,’ ‘I’m done taking care of you.’ And then of course, you had to show her the Daily Mail article that only ignited another panic attack to crash over you. You were having heart palpitations. There was a laundry list of reasons you probably should’ve gone to the hospital but at the moment you couldn’t move your body and sadly, you didn’t want the help. “He’s not done with you…” Lauren whispered softly, helping you lay down in the big bed taking your phone from you, clicking the power button and watching the screen illuminated with the photo of Trent and the women go black. “He’s really upset, Y/N, He’s allowed to be. I’m sure a lot of it was said heat of the moment but you fucked up and he’s concerned but he’s not done. He loves you more than frankly I ever knew people could love each other. I know he isn't done.” She cooed with a sad sympathetic smile. She looked next to your bed on the bedside table and saw your engagement ring in a little jewelry dish. “Please put this back on, please.” She put the ring back on your finger where it belonged for you and kissed the back of your hand before wiping a falling tear. You took it off because it was making you nauseous that he had promised you a life and you accepted it only to destroy it all. “He’s not going anywhere, I am not going anywhere, and Y/N, you…you are not going anywhere. You are here and we want you here.” You could hear a tremor in her voice as she sat next to you rubbing your back. You weren’t sure when the last time you slept was so you passed out finally feeling her warm comforting touch on you. You were fast asleep when Lauren got up and called Jude from another room. She roughly explained the situation, she didn’t speak too much about you and Trent’s kick off because she didn’t think she had the full story yet. She began to cry when she relayed the terrifying situation she had just gone through arriving at your apartment. Jude was shocked, gobsmacked, massively concerned but more so helpless listening to Lauren sob over the phone. He didn’t know how to help from where he was.

Back in Liverpool, Tyler had come over to your house to talk to Trent about some end of the season things they needed to get squared away. He sat with Teddy bouncing her on his knee as they had a unnecessarily tense conversation.

“Yo, what’s with you?” Tyler quipped looking at Trent confused. He was being particularly snippy with him and all his brother was trying to do was his job. Trent didn’t need to be such an asshole to him.

“Ty, I’m losing her.” Trent sighed scrolling on his phone zooming in on your location to make sure he knew you were at the apartment he had gotten for you at least. He didn’t have the courage to text or call you yet but he needed to know where you were.

“What are you on about mate?” Tyler asked, incredibly confused. Marcel had mentioned a tiff at the game but like everyone else around you two there never were any really big squabbles so this was definitely a bit of a surprise.

“I can feel it, bro. Since we had Teddy all this stuff she warned me about, things she had dealt with when she was younger all started flooding back. I always knew like from the day I met her, she wasn’t like the most confident person in the world but since she had the baby she’s just not the same. I hear her get up in the middle of the night, I see her not eating as much, she’s sleeping way more and I can’t do anything. There’s nothing to say even. She’s like a shell of herself, bro. I’m terrified.” Trent expatiated at length but vaguely touching on the slow decline you had been on postpartum.

“I haven’t seen it to be honest.” Tyler responded hesitantly tilting his head slowly trying to rack his brain to think if he had noticed any shifts in your behavior.

“That’s the fucking problem. She’s fooling everyone. It’s fucked. Like I get it she looks good. She always looks good, she’s perfect but it’s not right. Something's not right and I’m getting worried. I was absolutely fuming after the final and I just didn’t want to talk to her to be honest but then she left for New York… and…” Trent rambled half ass explaining the situation at hand but leaving out the part that you two hadn’t spoken since you walked out of the house.

“Well you love her, you can’t just dip because it got hard.” Tyler was very quick with his response. He wanted to make sure Trent wasn’t trying to jump ship considering at the very moment he was holding the child you shared.

“I’m not dipping. I’m never fucking leaving her. It’s just such a mess. It felt like it went 0 to 60.” Trent dropped his head back onto the couch cushion in despair so confused and conflicted on what he was supposed to do next.

“Well, first off, good. If you’re gonna marry her, you’re buying into all of it, mate. It’s not your responsibility to heal her of something but it’s your responsibility if you really love her to get her to the people that can if she’s not willing to do it herself. You love her and she’s the mother of your child and if she can’t see that… you need to make sure you do everything you can to show her there’s no other possible feeling there but your support.” He looked at Trent with a lot of sympathy but Tyler really was starting to worry about you. His brain switching gears from the assistance to his younger brother to a growing anxiety about the girl he picked up from the airport and never left all those years ago. He started to remember little things here and there, comments made or small actions that felt like nothing at the time but maybe cumulatively he should’ve caught on.

The next day after Trent had a big think, he remembered that one of George’s cousins ran a clinic in Liverpool so he figured he could start there. He asked George for her number and she agreed to meet him happily willing to help. He at least wanted to learn what options he even had. He wanted to know a simple answer of what he was supposed to do but he knew that wasn’t the reality. The photos of their meeting hit you like a ton of bricks. You thought he was seeing someone else, taking your night out and spitting it back at you. Showing you he could disappear just the same and rub it your face simultaneously. That wasn’t the case at all though. He wasn’t thinking about her in that regard in the slightest; the only thing he could think about was you, you 24/7. Unfortunately, he wasn’t aware of what was happening in your apartment at the moment which probably wouldn’t have given him much peace of mind. Ignorance was currently a mild form of bliss until he got home seeing he had a missed call.

After Lauren spoke to Jude she texted Marcel updating him in a fuzzy but still transparent way. She didn’t think she could handle another call after the emotional one she had with Jude. Eventually, Lauren mustered up the courage to call the one person she knew she had to… Trent. Her legs bounced in anxious anticipation but he didn’t answer her call. She felt her stomach drop. Maybe things were that bad. Maybe he really was done. He couldn’t be, she’d kill him, so she told herself she’d call once more but after that if he didn’t pick up, if he didn’t want to talk then she would resort to getting Dianne’s number from Marcel. This couldn’t go on any longer. She didn’t want to press but this needed to be sorted. Trent picked up the second time she rang but didn’t say anything once he answered for a little while so Lauren didn’t say a thing either. The line was silent until Trent's desperation outweighed any anger he had been harboring.

•

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