#every single year they live they should need me less and less

[platypusisnotonfire]

Im being so fr when i say any future hypothetical child of mine by age 13 should have a life I don’t know about.

I do NOT mean living a double life, I would do everything in my power to make sure my kid doesn’t feel the need for that.

I do NOT mean I’m gonna parentify my 13 year old and expect them to be independent. 13 is still a child.

I DO mean I am raising a person. Every single year I should be teaching them enough to take care of themselves at developmentally appropriate levels.

I know for a FACT a 13-year-old is capable of having a full time job and running a household (fact being me at age 13 becoming the “man of the house” and having to both work and figure out how to pay bills and taxes and all the grown up stuff)

Should they? ABSOLUTELY not. It caused psychological damage I’m still trying to undo.

My POINT being that there is a lot of intelectual capacity in a 13-year-old brain. If I’ve done my job correctly in training them at 1,2,3,4 years old etc, by age 13 they should be perfectly capable of going off to hang out with friends, explore the woods, explore the neighborhood, without me supervising or being involved at all.

By 13 my kids should be able to go off and have a Goonies or Stand By Me type excursion without me ever knowing about it. All the while knowing, to their bones, that if anything at all is ever Too Much for them or too scary or to complicated to understand, they could come to me with NO judgement on my part. I’m here to teach them how to human. Not to mold them into some parody of myself.

[ybcpatrick]

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[thebiballerina]

I mostly concur with the above reblogger, but I wanted to add one thing:

I wouldn't say that anything you do will have zero impact. There are SOME things you can do that will have an impact, if you choose to put your time and energy into this issue. (Which you are not obligated to do, to be clear, unless you have some sort of role or job which implies that sort of responsibility.)

You aren't necessarily helpless. But subscribing to OP's mindset is a really good way to make yourself helpless.

I've seen that mindset, repeatedly. I had that mindset, at one point in time. You know what changed that, more than anything else? Becoming an actual activist.

The activists who hold on to the mindset that a mental health break is selfish? The ones that can't or won't emotionally distance themselves? The ones that don't acknowledge their right to care for themselves because someone, somewhere is suffering worse than them? They don't last, and they don't help.

The good ending for that road is to burn out, and then not be able to help anymore. The bad ending is to fall heavily into compassion fatigue, and then be so desensitized and unable to care that you cause real harm. Or there's the other bad ending, which is that you neglect yourself so thoroughly that you end up hurt, sick, or dead (and maybe hurt others while you are at it). You might even manage to do all three of these things.

If you want to make a real impact on more than a minuscule scale, you not only need to allow yourself mental health breaks (which, yes, sometimes include disengaging completely), you need to accept that they aren't selfish at all. They are sometimes the only way you'll be able to preserve your ability to help. Feeling personally affected by an issue is valid, and sometimes unavoidable, but it doesn't correlate to how much of a difference you make.

Hurting yourself doesn't automatically help others. Many of us have heard metaphor which references the airplane safety instruction to put on your oxygen mask before helping others do so. It's a good metaphor. A suffocating person isn't going to thank you for the valiant gesture of suffocating yourself alongside them, when you had the option to save the both of you.

I believe in sacrifice, in some cases. I believe in acknowledging my privilege. But sacrifice generally implies that you are giving something up to help someone else. If you are just giving something up… it's more suffering in the world, not less.

Do you want to actually help? I bet you there are activism campaigns that would love to have you, in a variety of forms and levels of commitment. Including entirely remote efforts, if you aren't in a position or location to engage in in-person efforts. That goes for any cause, not just this one.

And you'll make a lot more difference in that sphere if you prioritize your impact, instead of your devotion to the issue.

i think anyone who is genuinely worried about their mental health bc of the situation in gaza probably needs to reformat their way of thinking about it. the answer is not to take a “mental health break” where you pretend whats happening in gaza doesnt exist and stop being vocal and refuse to hear people around you who are vocal. the way to do that “mental health break” much more effectively and not selfishly would be to remove yourself from constant streams of idiotic and/or murderously evil people. stop watching tiktok debates. stop reading genocidal reddit comments and news articles from sources you KNOW want palestine dead. stop putting the focus on the murderers and keep your attention on sympathy and love for the murdered, on hope and optimism (even if naive) and activism to do your part in making things better. dont get me wrong the murderers still need to be dealt with but if you as an individual feel like you’re getting too overwhelmed with despair to be helpful, the answer is to shift your focus away from those causing the despair, not to ignore and abandon those who have to actually live through it.

[munsonsmixtapes]

What a Lovely View

rockstar!eddie x wife!reader

summary: You and Eddie go on a Christmas vacation after weeks of not seeing each other and make up for lost time.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex, spanking, breeding kink

You and Eddie enter the apartment where you’ll be staying for the next week for Christmas. This year, you’ve decided to have some time to yourselves since he’s been on tour and you’ve been working a lot because of the holidays.

You look around as you roll your suitcase further into the apartment and can’t help but gasp at how large and prettily decorated it is. There’s a giant Christmas tree in the living room against the giant window that looks out over the city. The tree with all the pretty lights outside behind it makes for such a picturesque view.

Eddie stands behind you, resting his hands on your waist as his chin sits atop your shoulder, a contented sigh passing through his lips as he does so. He’s missed you so much and being here with you for some much needed alone time is all he’s been thinking about for weeks.

Honestly, all he’s been thinking about is fucking you ok every single surface in the apartment and he intends to do so since you have all well. He hadn’t realized how much he needed your touch until he hugged you at the airport. Having you in his arms, holding your closing, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, he was rock hard right then and there. It took everything in him to not take you to the nearest restroom and have his way with you.

But now he can so he takes the opportunity when he sees your exposed neck. He presses his lips to it gently at first, but when he hears you hum, he goes full force, sucking on the skin, his fingers curling into your waist as your shirt bunches up, exposing some skin where eddie is quick to find purchase as you tilt your head to the side to give him more room to work.

“Eddie,” you moan. “Almost forgot how good you are with your mouth.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” he mumbles against your skin before turning you around to face him, his lips finding yours in a searing kiss. His hands move up your shirt while yours fist his as his tongue explores your mouth, both of your moaning as you do so.

You’re making up for lost time as you take off each other’s clothes, the garments flying across the room as you’re both so desperate to see each other naked. It’s been months and having only the company of your hands while you video chat isn’t exactly ideal even though it often does the trick.

“Fuck, you’re even more beautiful than I remember, Eddie breaths, taking in your naked body as his pulls you to him. You can feel his rock hard cock against you as he kisses you again, making you feel dizzy.

“Need you inside me,” you tell him as you grab his waist, pushing his cock against you even more. Eddie presses his lips to yours as he backs you up to the window and pounds into you as he grabs your legs and wraps them around his waist, thrusting in and out of you as you buck your hips against his.

The window is nothing but cold against your back, but you actually think it feels kind of nice since you’ve gotten so hot with Eddie’s body against yours. His fingers are digging into your waist and even though it hurts like hell, you don’t dare stop him. It feels too good.

“That’s it, baby,” he says. “Just like that. See? After a few months, we’ve still got it. God, you feel so good. Kept it loose for me, huh? So I was able to slide right in? How thoughtful of you.”

“You’ve helped me get off every single night we’ve been apart. You should have known it’d be like this.” He rams into you so hard that you hit the window again, your head also hitting the window. But you couldn’t care less. All you want is for him to do this until you feel like absolute jelly in his arms.

“I should have,” he rasps. “Always such a good girl for me, hm?”

“Always,” you reply as your legs wrap tighter around his waist, your cunt clenching around his cock as he holds it there, all of him inside you as he’s finally gotten the last bit in.

“God, wanna fill you up so good, baby. Wanna make you a mother.” This doesn’t surprise you in the slightest. You and Eddie have spoken multiple times about how you want to have children and you can’t think of a better time to actually have your first.

“Then make me a mother,” you tell him and he goes even harder, his thrusts more frequent and hard, eliciting moan after moan from you.

“So fucking pretty,” Eddie says as his lips find yours, pushing you even more against the glass as he turns his head to the side. You orgasm into his mouth as his tongue finds its way into your own mouth, swirling around yours and his hands find their way to your ass, digging into the skin and you really hope he leaves marks. “You’re gonna be so hot with your stomach getting bigger. God, I’m getting hard just thinking about it sweetheart.”

He pulls you away from the window and brings you over to the couch where he lies, you collapsing on top of him with a gasp. You’re flat on top of him and his hands find their way to your ass, digging his nails into your cheeks as his lips find yours again before giving it a hard slap.

You gasp into his mouth and he can’t help but grin as he does it again, harder this time before massaging it to soothe the pain. You want him to do more, but know that he never wants to actually hurt you so you straddle his waist and begin to ride him as a thank him for fucking your brains out only moments earlier.

“Gonna make such a good mom, swear to god,” he breathes. “I’m gonna be a good dad, right?”

“Of course you are, Ed,” you tell him as your hips roll against his. “You’re gonna be a great dad. Amazing, even.”

“Always say everything I want to hear, don’t you sweetheart?” He winks as hips buck against yours and his fingers dig further into your ass cheeks with so much force that you swear you’re going to bleed. But that’s the least of your worries. Eddie already looks fucked out and you smile to yourself with pride at your boyfriend who’s eyes are definitely rolling into the back of his head and you’ve barely even done anything.

You hold onto his shoulders as you pick up the pace, waiting to get to what you were doing before, wanting to make him feel as good as he made you feel. He continues to buck his hips against yours and maybe it’s because you haven’t done this in weeks or maybe it’s all the traveling you’ve done all day, but you feel like the both of you don’t have the energy or stamina that you used to.

“Fuck fuck fuck, baby,” he moans as he reaches his orgasm and bucks his hip against yours one last time before his back hits the couch. You lie on top of him, the two of you out of breath and he doesn’t bother pulling out as he wants to be as close to you as possible.

He flips you over and pulls out, lowering himself down to your stomach, peppering it with kisses, telling you how much he loves you and that even though he just came inside of you, that he doesn’t care if you wind up pregnant or not. He’s still going to love you for the rest of his life. And you feel the exact same way about him.

[ms-demeanor]

Hey nobody has asked me about this ADHD money management tip and it depends on having at least a tiny bit of flex in your budget but I'm about to spend a frustrating amount of money on flour and I can only do it because of this tip:

Hide cash from yourself like a squirrel.

Use whatever receptacle you'd like, envelopes or a zipper bag or an old wallet, create labels for the stuff you're saving for, and tuck money in there occasionally.

My stash lives in an old wallet with strips of paper around it. It's got dividers for "car registration," "bulk food," "vet visit," and a couple other things.

These are things that I know happen every year or multiple times a year that take more cash than I can easily spare from a single paycheck. If I stick twenty bucks a month in an old wallet it will mean that even if I have to pay late fees, I don't have to put my car registration on a credit card and pay interest on my late fees. If I stick ten bucks a month in an old wallet I can buy 25lbs of flour twice a year. If I can stick a bit more or less cash as it's available into the wallet I can make sure that my twice-annual regular vet visits with senior dog bloodwork and vaccinations aren't going to be too much of a hit to that month's grocery budget.

Like, everyone talks about "put money in savings once a month" or "have an account you don't touch for emergencies" and that can totally work if you can swing it, but I know it's REALLY hard for me to keep from pulling from the "emergency" fund for stuff that's a minor emergency/or is regular maintenance that I should have planned for/etc.

It's much harder for me to pull from the actual cash sitting in a physical room in my house because A) I'll probably forget it and B) that means that I have to think through using those funds in a lot more of a direct way than I would when using a debit card and C) I literally can't access it when I'm out of the house (the emergency fund HAS to be on the card to be accessible, the "i need expensive groceries" money doesn't have to be ready to go at all times and if it is available I know myself and it'll get used before it's expensive grocery time).

Like. If you know you have an expense that you have to pay for every year, hide cash specifically for that expense instead of in a general "expenses" fund because if you're not great with money and you've got an iffy memory you might look at your expenses fund and go "okay my computer crashed and there's five hundred bucks in the fund I can replace it and get back to work, cool" and there goes your car registration and a vet visit. At least if you need to physically grab that cash for an emergency you can make note of what you're going to have a deficit for later in the year.

[aurynsia]

what would be the life after hogwarts for james and reader? i can just imagine james thinking of the best ring he could give reader to ask her to marry him, or even like thinking of where they should live in.

Life After Hogwarts

James Potter x Reader

Summary: James won’t settle for anything less than perfect for his perfect girl...

Warnings: Intense fluff, Reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, James is just a good hearted rich boy who wants the best for his partner <3

Word Count: 1.1K

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for the request! I wrote this as a sequel to this series, but it can just as easily be read as a stand alone oneshot. Enjoy!

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

“Pads, please focus here. This is serious!”

“No, I’m Sirius, born and raised! Are you sure you aren’t feeling lightheaded, Prongs?”

James and Sirius stood bent over the cabinet of delicate rings, the latter struggling to free himself from a ring size too small. James huffed in frustration, brows furrowed in contemplation as he glanced across the display one last time.

“None of them feel right, I’m telling you! We‘ll just have to find somewhere else, she won’t like how flashy all of these diamonds are,” James sulked and grumbled as Sirius finally eased the ring off of his nimble finger.

“Prongs, this is the fifth jeweller we’ve been to in the past four hours. Merlin, the sun is already setting and you haven’t even considered a single one of the more than acceptable rings we’ve looked at!”

Sirius scrambled to chase James out of the store, pace quickened along the damp concrete of the sidewalk.

“It needs to be perfect, she’s perfect. I will settle for no less.” James held his head high, nose turned upwards at the raven haired boy who grew visibly sluggish with every step.

Sirius groaned, only following his bespectacled friend for another quick moment before James stopped abruptly at a pawn shop window, eyes bursting wide with hope.

The ring in the window shone elegantly against the store’s harsh light. The metal twisted and turned in a smooth curve that was sure to make your skin glow radiantly in contrast. It was understated, with only the minor details in the engravings making a quiet display of the mountain of money James was about to spend.

“That’s the one. It’s perfect.”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

The cool breeze wrapped around the Potter’s summer house with ease, pressing against your skin to form goosebumps along the soft surface.

James had been acting strangely all day, almost avoiding you at every turn of the house’s walls like his life depended on it. He fiddled with his fingers, stuttered out his words and blushed at every subtle sound of amusement you made.

Finally relaxing into your side, James sheltered you from the wind with his body on his family’s beach-side deck. Your evening beverage was pressed between your legs, freeing your hands to run soothing circles over your boyfriend’s back.

His eyes clenched shut, head growing wrinkles as he sought his trademark courage that seemed to all but disappear the moment you were near.

Slowly, tentatively, he lifted his body from your warmth, flashing you a sympathetic smile to compensate for the absolute fool he was about to make of himself.

“Love, I- you mean the world to me…” he turned to face you. “These past years with you have made for some of the happiest moments I’ve ever experienced…” he shifted to lift up onto his knees, gazing down at your curious expression.

“I love you so, so much. I loved you when I first met you, the shy girl on the Hogwarts express. I loved you when we started dating, all smiles over candle lit dinners, and…” He moved again, down on one knee. “I want to keep loving you when you marry me.”

You gasped at the genuine glaze of his soft brown eyes, his lean towards your stationary body, and the ring sat in his grasp, shrouded by a velvet box.

He coughed slightly at the awkward atmosphere, repeating himself with clarity. “Will you…marry me?”

“Godric, James- yes!”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Fleamont Potter was showering his son with engagement gifts. James never had any reason to complain about his family or economic situation, and to say he grew up comfortably would be a drastic understatement.

House hunting was James’ first protocol after his successful proposal. He had patiently listened to you ramble about your dream house for years, trying to stay focused under your captivating gaze and endearing energy. Big windows, lots of light, and a burning fireplace.

That’s exactly what James was searching for as he strolled down the streets of Godric’s Hollow. He had inspected every single house he could find, taken or not. The day was wearing out, washing lines already dried under the subtle summer heat.

His gaze fell in a wave of sluggish fatigue, only to be snapped open by the sight of a Southern-style mansion positioned right on the edge of Godric’s Hollow, towering over the sidewalk. The house was decorated with shutters and balconies, as well as a small red sign in the front yard.

FOR SALE.

He rushed to the front door, conveniently propped open. “It’s a beautiful place, really, but we’re after something a little more…modern.” A family glided past James in a pack, concluding what he could only assume to be a tour of the house.

The estate agent fixed his tie as he bid farewell to the family, promising something about searching closer to the city the following week. He spun around to find James gawking eagerly at the front door, before clearing his throat to gain the young Potter’s attention.

“Would you like a tour?”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

James flashed you a smug smile as you gazed in awe at the intricate architecture of your new townhouse. You were perched on the front lawn, tucked into James’ side with his hand on the small of your back.

“It’s so beautiful…” you mused wistfully, gaze drawn to the rustic tiles on the roof like sunflowers to the sun. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble, I mean- this must have been an absolute pain to buy…” you finally tilted your gaze to see James peering over you, a lovesick longing painted on his features.

“Love, my father knows people - too many to count - who were more than happy to help with this little engagement gift,” he chuckled, eyes still locked on yours. “When I saw this house for the first time…it was calling your name. Our names.”

The house was big enough to hold a few kids and some small pets - clearly too big for just you and James, but he hoped that your family would fill it out in the coming years. There needed to be room for at least one big black dog.

Still uncertain, you gave James a sceptical look. “It was no trouble, really.” He didn’t wait for a reply as he drove you through the open door by your shoulders.

You stumbled through each room, captivated by the warmth in every corner you turned to. James was hot on your heels, guiding you by your waist every now and then to show you specific features of the kitchen, the bathrooms and the already decorated master bedroom.

You jumped onto the bed with glee, warmth engulfing you under your body.

“Jamie…it’s perfect…” you mused, eyes shut as you felt the bed dip with your Fiancée’s weight, who shifted to kiss your forehead with care.

“You’re perfect, love.”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

[orteil42]

some undifferentiated thoughts about my Starfield playthrough as i have them. i am a game developer with a strong interest in procedural generation and i've enjoyed a bunch of other bethesda games so this might get pretty mean sorry

(this is a long one)

starfield dialogue is already exhausting me "oh you must've been living under a moon rock ;)" get it! because they're in space! this would've been too corny for the Jetsons

there's a kind of cheap dusting of space theme over everything. the food isn't salmon but alien salmon. it's not seaweed but alien seaweed. cooking alien stir-fry. come on

cannot get over how clumsily the theming is handled. books, board games, weapon names revolve heavily around space. these people have been living on alien planets for hundreds of years yet have this unending sense of novelty about it. the game takes itself completely seriously but feels like it's attempting to parody itself

people's EYEBALLS are CLIPPING THROUGH THEIR EYELIDS

a woman is speaking to me in french. her accent is about as believable as her haircut

these are some of the worst reflection maps i've ever seen

next to nothing is interactive. you can sit in chairs and sleep in beds and that is about it. can't even drink from people's toilets. disgraceful

game helpfully crashes 5 seconds after i decide i should get some sleep. very handy!

my character has not said a single thing since i started playing. not one peep. this is an unmitigated improvement over Fallout 4 i'm so glad honestly

the more i poke around the big city the more the NPC quips feel like something out of gen-1 pokemon. can't get enough of this coffee :) this city is where it's at :) spacesuits are comfy and easy to wear

very strange sense of altered reality from the quest dialogue too. has anyone at bethesda met a person before? i move on to some mission that has me scanning wildlife on a faraway planet hoping this will, somehow, feel less alien than human conversation

just as with No Man's Sky, every planet is uniformly dotted with equidistantly-placed points of interest that you slowly make your way to (no vehicles besides your jetpack) which always turn out to be some cave or building identical to those you've cleared before

unlike with No Man's Sky, the seamless exploration is faked and the biodiversity is nil. you do get an impressive amount of raw loading screens however

the prefab bases and power stations found everywhere on planets seem to have very sparse, very specific slots for spawning consumables, which results in encountering some giant industrial installation in the middle of nowhere with, i don't know, a loaf of whole-grain sandwich bread just casually sitting next to it all proper. there is no breathable atmosphere here. who is eating this

planetary traversal is a CHORE. i am saying this as someone who loved Death Stranding

heinous "hold to confirm" buttons sprinkled in various flow-breaking places throughout the interface

enemy AI is abominable. nobody is pathing their way to get my ass. "must've been the wind" taken to the next level. an infant playing peekaboo has more object permanence

hoisting yourself up on ledges when jumping is…nice

companions randomly nowhere to be found. persists through multiple fast-travels and loading screens until, just as randomly, they pop back up

storage space is now limited! unlike in Fallout 4 and virtually every other bethesda game, your containers now hold a finite item capacity. god forbid we let the player have fun

baffling inventory UI. i imagine there's a mod out there that completely overhauls it the way SkyUI did for Skyrim. this should not be needed! how are your UIs getting worse a decade later!

scanning the precious few species inhabiting some dusty planet; one of them is this arching red root i've already seen several times before. my job done in this biome, i travel (read: teleport with a loading screen) to the polar region to find some other species. the first one i catalogue is the exact same red root again but this time it's named "boreas root" todd howard is a genius

some alien horror comes at me full fangs out. i hop on a pebble. obscenely, i am safe

procedural terrain generation beyond dull, impossibly unimaginative. these people have not had one critical thought on what makes a procedural world interesting. beginning to feel validated in my belief that only i should be trusted with proc gen. along with perhaps tarn adams

jokes aside this is making me feel genuinely insane. there have been excellent procedural generation techniques that produce compelling explorable maps for decades now. bethesda absolutely has the budget and know-how to do miles better than this yet somehow they just…do not? the same way Pokemon has decided to just no longer bother with their mainline games despite being the highest-grossing media franchise in history? hello? what is for real going on

some of the most cynical breadcrumbing i've seen in years. approaching some random cave and this person in space gear, who in the vast immensity of the infinite cosmos just happens to be snapping pictures right here, tells me more-or-less verbatim "if you like this place, you should see this other place" [other random cave has been added to your map.]

i do not like how good this makes No Man's Sky's gameplay look. it depresses me how much i have to hand it to No Man's Sky for at least not fucking up this bad. please stop making me wish i was playing No Man's Sky instead this is grotesque

i think i've exhausted my interest and patience for this game at the moment. i'll get back to the main story at some point and try some other systems ie. crafting and base-building to see if there's any engagement to be found but so far, my god. my god

[foxy-eva]

Dad!Spencer Headcanons

(requested by anon for my New Year's Celebration)

Spencer could not be happier when you tell him that you're ready to have kids. He always wanted to be a father.

When the baby is born he goes on parental leave to be able to spend as much time with his family as possible. He might even decide to take time off from the BAU and take on a teaching position so he can be there more.

He is so excited to finally be a dad and reads every book about parenting he can find.

He proves to be a great dad from day one. You can always rely on him to be there for you and your child.

He is used to an irregular sleeping schedule due to his job so it doesn't bother him to get up at night to take care of his kid.

It doesn't take too long until you decide you want to have another child and Spencer is just as excited as the first time to start this journey again.

He loves to read or recite children's books to his kids and they love listening to his voice. Soon they start sharing his love for books.

Spencer loves to watch them grow up and learn new things. His eyes are always filled with wonder and adoration when he sees their unique way of discovering the world.

He is really involved in his children's lives. They feel very safe with him and always tell him when something is on their mind. It warms your heart to see how much they trust him.

He keeps every single drawing and art piece they make. He would never throw away anything his kids created.

He loves to spoil his kids and he has a hard time saying no when they ask for something while looking at him with their big eyes. Sometimes you have to remind him to not overdo it.

Spending quality time with his family is really important to Spencer. It quickly becomes a family tradition to do some fun activities on weekends.

He makes sure that his children can explore different kinds of activities to find out what they like and what talents they have. It doesn't matter if it's art, music or sports, he will be there to support them.

Other kids from the neighbourhood or from school are always welcome at your house. Spencer really likes to entertain his kids' friends with little magic shows. He wants his children to have everything he missed out on as a kid.

Spencer has a hard time letting his children go when they grow older and need him less. He accepts it of course but sometimes he wishes that they would stay little forever.

If you liked this post you should check out my Pregnancy Headcanons and my Family Time Headcanons!

Please make sure to like, reblog and comment. Your support really helps me to come up with more stories!

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @happymangospot @cynbx @melifluorei-d @hotchandspencearedilfs @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @velvetthunder93 @saturnstringz @missabsey @guacam011y @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter @enamoradax @hales-17 @cham9ions @loaksulluyswife @ecneremili @xserenax-13 @grumpyy-bearr @luredwithpretzels @castiels-majestic-wings @super-nerd22 @pleasantwitchgarden @yeonalie @r-3dlips @evvy96 @torigorie @khyleereads

[mxigo]

i remember everything (wish i didn't, but i do) | part 1

SERIES SYNOPSIS: logan saved the timeline, but the consequence is that he doesn't remember anything after 1973. now back in 2023, he has missed 50 years of history. including any history of your relationship with him.

WARNINGS: 18+, angst, swearing

WORD COUNT: 2.02k

MINORS & AGE-LESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. YOUR AGE MUST BE SOMEWHERE IN YOUR BIO OR YOUR BYF.

SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER

“Well, Logan, I guess it would be a bit more efficient if I were to just show you.”

Xavier raised an eyebrow, and Logan felt the presence of his telepathy around his mind, waiting just on the edge. He stood straight before giving a single nod, letting his mind relax around the gentle intrusion.

In an instant, the past fifty years that had changed flooded his mind. The sentinel program never happened, and human attitude towards mutants changed for the better. Jean got the help that she needed early on to completely control her powers, which also meant that she was able to safely get herself and the jet out of Alkali Lake when the dam burst. She never killed Scott, and never joined Magneto when she was consumed by Dark Phoenix. So, Logan never had to kill her. The school was still here, and mutants were, for the most part, able to live peacefully.

Although, there was a blip of a memory that had him stumbling back from Xavier’s desk in shock, the professor slipping from his mind. His mind was reeling, trying to make sense of what he saw.

“Now, Logan—”

“Wh-Who was that? How long ago was that memory?”

Xavier sighed. “Her name is Y/N, but she goes by Halo in the field. The memory that I just showed you happened just a week ago before she left for the mission that she is currently on in Texas.”

A beat passed as the memory played out in Logan’s mind again. It was from Xavier’s eyes, but he could see clearly how he had his hands resting on the hips of a woman he had never seen before, but she was dressed up in an X-Man suit, and he looked at her with such warmth and tenderness. She was also holding onto his biceps as they made their goodbye in the jet’s hangar, but before she stepped away, Logan had tilted her head up for a kiss.

“Is she, I mean, are we—”

“You and Halo have been together for the past four years. If I recall correctly, it was actually you who made the first move, Logan.”

Logan’s head snapped over to Xavier, his eyes wide in disbelief. His vision blurred as he unfocused for just a moment, trying to grasp on this bomb of information. Five years he had spent with a woman that he has no recollection of spending time with, let alone having feelings for, while at the same time he just saw Jean in the flesh and every feeling that he had harbored years ago came rushing back, still as fresh as that very first day.

His mind flickered back to Xavier’s memory, and he knew that the way he looked at her was different than he had ever looked at Jean, but those feelings for this other woman was nonexistent.

Charles sighed. “I understand this is a predicament, and obviously, there is no way for me to just erase old memories and force you to experience the new ones. She and Colossus aren’t due back for a couple more days, but I’ll make sure to speak to Halo once she returns. Please feel free to use the empty room at the end of the same hall should you feel the need for it.”

And just like that, Xavier just rolled out of his office, leaving Logan to deal. He didn’t linger in the office. Instead, he made his way back up to the room that he woke up in, pushing the door open. Now with the urgency to see if he had changed the past gone, he took the time to really take in the room.

The first thing he noticed were the picture frames lined up on the dresser, each one displaying photos of Halo, him, or both. As he walked further into the room, he saw that one of the nightstands had items that would belong to a female, such as hair ties, a tube of fruity chapstick, and some jewelry pieces. The other was nearly spotless, save for a watch and a book titled A Game of Thrones. As he took a deep breath, he picked up a scent that smelled like his own, but it was intermingled with another softer scent, one of vanilla and lavender. There was even an incense holder on the dresser.

The adjoining bathroom was more of the same; feminine haircare products that smelled like the woman’s scent in the bedroom along with a tower of various makeup items in the corner of the sink counter.

He went back into the bedroom and sat on the bed, letting his head drop into his hands as he tried to make sense of his new present. When he volunteered to go back to ’73, he didn’t consider that there would be more personal changes to his life. Yes, he was ecstatic that Jean and Scott were alive, and that the school was still here, but now he was stuck in a timeline where he was seriously involved with someone that he had never met before.

Besides, that was this Logan’s life, not his. He still had all of his memories from the previous timeline. He was sure he was a completely different person from this one’s. She may not even like this Logan. He may not even like her.

~

You groaned as you walked up the stairs leading to the bedrooms floor. All of the aches and pains of the mission finally made themselves known as you pushed yourself up each step, causing a slight limp in your cramped legs. You were thankful the mission was over and couldn’t wait to sleep in your own bed. While it was by no means a very long mission, any mission away from Logan felt like an eternity.

Piotr climbed the steps next to you, completely unfazed and unharmed from the mission.

“What do you think they have whipped up in the kitchen for tonight?” he asked as you both reached the top of the stairs.

“Doesn’t matter. Logan and I always go for Mexican when we get back from missions. There’s a frozen strawberry margarita and a bowl of queso calling my name from Louie’s,” you answered, tilting your head up and gave a large, excited grin.

It was tradition after four years, and there was nothing that was going to stand between you and that queso.

“Sounds like you might love Mexican more than Logan.”

“It’s a tight race,” you giggled, meandering down the hallway towards your room. “I’ll see you later Piotr.”

The X-Man dipped his head in farewell as he continued down the hallway towards his own room, disappearing around the corner. With a sigh, you turned the knob on your door, pushing it open. You were only able to take a single step inside before you saw a figure out of the corner of your eye in the dark. With a flick of your fingers, you sent a ball of light at whoever it was, stopping it right in front of their face.

“Halo, welcome back. I hope the mission went smoothly.”

“Professor,” you gasped, immediately flicking on the bedroom light. “You scared me.”

“Apologies. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

You stepped further into the room, brushing hair out of your eyes as you began taking the first pieces off your suit. “What can I do for you, Professor?”

Xavier rolled over from his corner of your room, stopping just behind you.

“I’m afraid something has happened that affects you, Halo. You may want to take a seat.”

You look at him weirdly, anxiety starting to settle in your stomach. He gestured towards the bed, to which you complied and sat on, letting yourself lean forward to rest your elbows on your knees. You tried to recall if anything was amiss on your walk up from the hangar from the jet, but you couldn’t recall anything, and not even Piotr was disturbed by anything.

“Is everything okay? Is everyone okay?”

The professor’s face turned grim for a moment before taking a breath.

“To even begin to tell you about what has happened today, I need to tell you about what happened fifty years ago in 1973,” he started. “In my youth, I was a different man, an angry, sad man. For some time, I had closed the school and subjected myself to pity and a downward spiral of hate towards myself. Hank was the only friend I had, and he stayed with me here at the mansion. Until one day, Logan came and practically burst through the front doors, demanding to talk to me.

“He claimed that he was sent back in time to find me, and to change the future, or rather, his consciousness was sent back in time to his then current body. I didn’t believe him at first. It wasn’t until I’d looked into his mind later that he was telling the truth, and there was a horrible future that awaited the world if I didn’t help this man. If I didn’t help break Magneto out of prison and help stop Mystique from killing Trask, then mutantkind would cease to exist. While we did save the world, we also changed the future to what it is now, and the Logan that I met in 1973 was sent from the old future of what would have been today’s date.”

Your heart was thundering in your ears, not believing what you were hearing, but you couldn’t move. Something happened to Logan.

“Well, nothing exactly happened to Logan, dear. But our Logan that we have known since the beginning, is the same Logan that I met in 1973.”

You shook your head, not understanding. “What do you mean, Professor, if nothing has actually happened to him?”

“Halo, Logan does not remember anything since that day in DC in 1973.”

Your world stopped, and your brain froze. “What?”

“Logan has no recollection of anything from our current timeline. In his past, Jean and Scott are dead, the school and the country had been obliterated, and you, my dear, he never met.”

You took a stuttering breath as your throat began to tighten, and tears welled up in your eyes. You looked around the room frantically, searching for something you didn’t know what. The picture frames of the two of you stared hauntingly from the dresser now, and your heart shattered further.

“You-you mean that Logan doesn’t know who I am, at all?” you all but whispered, a stray tear dripping down your cheek.

“He does now, after I showed him what he has missed, but just showing him memories from the outside doesn’t erase his memories from his old past. I’m sorry.”

“So, what do I do now? Just forget everything and pretend that the last six years that I’ve known him just don’t exist anymore?”

“What your next steps are, are up to you, my dear. I would suggest potentially talking to Logan, once you are ready to see him, of course. He may be different, but he is still Logan.”

“But he’s not my Logan,” you whispered, before the dam broke. Gut wrenching sobs ripped from your chest, forcing you to curl in on yourself in front of the last person that you wanted to see you like this.

In a flurry to protect yourself, you rushed past Xavier and into the bathroom, slamming the door. Slowly, you slid down the door and wrapped your arms around yourself, letting the grief take over.

Unbidding, every memory of Logan played through your mind. The first day was when Jean brought you to the mansion, and the first person to officially meet you was him, all cold exterior, but you could see the soft looks that he gave to his friends and the other X-Men. Ultimately, your thoughts ended just over a week ago when he bid you goodbye before your mission. You could still feel his hands holding your waist and the kiss he gave you before the jet took you away.

And you may never have that again.

[panelshowsource]

random things to watch over the holiday break

happy holidays friends (⸝⸝^ᴗ^⸝⸝)❄️ as many of us have time off from our normal schedules, are taking long-haul flights or car drives, and will be spending hours in broom closets to avoid our terrifying families, i figure this is the perfect time to look back on the year and put together some watch links for over the break ❄️❄️❄️

—

panel shows

the christmas special of never mind the buzzcocks is always...something else

speaking of, icymi in a panel show miracle earlier this year an anonymous source provided beautiful archival copies of the first 12 series of nmtb — so this is the perfect time to revisit its classic era!!

junior taskmaster just wrapped up its first season! very wholesome, for the whole family (don't forget to check out the taskmaster podcast discussions for each episode, hosted by ed gamble!)

there were some great eps of cats does countdown this year but this one was probably my standout<3

because this series is on sky so we have to be careful circulating it, not everyone got a chance to watch rob beckett's smart tv when it aired this year! some of the panel guests include natasia demetriou, nicola coughlan, david tennant, romesh, and alan davies, among others

idk if this is controversial but i think the australian guy mont spelling bee MIGHT be better than the new zealand version... i'm not sure yet... i need someone else to watch every single episode and tell me what my opinion should be. i also want to thank this show for teaching me how to spell vinaigrette

this, this, and this were some of my favourite episodes of wilty this year!! btw the 2024 christmas episode just dropped!

there were a lot of wild lineups on mel giedoryc: unforgivable this year, but i'd recommend just starting with the first episode of the latest series because..well you'll understand when you see it

this year i made three big lists of random panel show moments that, in my humble opinion, you will love wasting your holidays hours clicking through: part 1 / part 2 / part 3

misc. tv

the royal variety performance 2024

the completely made up adventures of dick turpin was renewed for s2 so make sure to catch up!!! it's SO stupid hahaha

on a similar, less stupid note, ludwig will also be back for s2!

we're all still missing sean lock, who passed away three years ago, so it's never a bad time to revisit 15 storeys high — especially now that we have upgraded rips!

listen jon and lucy may be divorced but that doesn't make meet the richardsons any less iconic and the last two episodes just released!

s2 of alma's not normal is out this year and doing such amazing things for our sophie willan!!

this was a bit under the radar but backstage with katherine ryan was really fun! i love the mostly-documentary concept and it's one of my favourite things to see the backstage culture between these random comedians (judi x ivo killed me)

rhod gilbert's stand up to cancer documentary was really beautiful ;;

am i being unreasonable? (written by & starring daisy may cooper, from this country) is one of my underrated scripted comedies of the year

paddy mcguinness on who do you think you are

in the new jimmy carr-hosted game show battle in a box, pairs of celebs (mostly comedians) are trapped in an empty box for 24 hours, forced to play a series of mental and physical challenges. if you like the lineup then it's worth checking out!

it's christmas. just follow tradition and watch fry & laurie.

standup

ahir shah – ends (2024)

fern brady – austistic bikini queen (2024)

harriet kemsley – everything always works out for me (2024)

lucy beaumont – live from the royal court theatre (2024)

john kearns – the varnishing days (2023–4)

rhys james – spilt milk (2024)

suzi ruffell – snappy (2024)

tony law – the law also rises (2024)

films

monty python and the holy grail (1975) dir. terry gilliam, terry jones

withnail and i (1987) dir. bruce robinson

gosford park (2001) dir. robert altman

the personal history of david copperfield (2019) dir. armando iannucci

how to have sex (2023) dir. molly manning walker

rye lane (2023) dir. raine allen-miller

scrapper (2023) dir. charlotte regan

kneecap (2024) dir. rich peppiatt

youtube

been enjoying the dish podcast this year!! some of my favourite episodes include claudia winkleman, jordan north & william hanson, saoirse-monica jackson, gordon ramsay, sandi toksvig, richard e. grant, matthew macfadyen, and stephen fry

sandi toksvig hugging guests (2024 edition)

obsessed with this house tour with richard e grant

phil wang was on jolly?? it was fun to see his house

don't sleep on the taskmaster outtakes content!

radio & podcasts

green wing came back for a 6-part radio series and warmed all of our hearts<3

some of my favourite episodes of off menu this year: elis james, john robins, sam campbell, frankie boyle, lucy beaumont, jess knappett, joe wilkinson, tommy tiernan, ardal o'hanlon, huge davies (one of the all-time clips), danny dyer (this one is truly crazy on the ears can't recommend it enough)

the horne section podcast was back for a few episodes!!! if you've never listened before, start with this classic episode you're welcome

susie dent and phil wang have adorable chemistry on this new radio game show

david o'doherty and max rushden started a new podcast about what people did yesterday that has had lots of fun guests! start here if you need to give it a taste

a few RHLSTP episodes worth giving a listen: lee mack, bob mortimer, armando iannucci, rob brydon, peter serafinowicz, ade edmondson, fern brady, among others. if you find your patience waning, he's doing a couple of 'best of 2024' eps! richard's really been focused on his book podcast this year

books

frankie boyle & charlie skelton – a short history of the apocalypse: the vital guide to your future survival (2024)

miranda hart – i haven't been entirely honest with you (2024)

richard osman – we solve murders (2024)

—

i could go on forever but i've got to stop somewhere heh... looking forward to big fat quiz and more mindless telly in 2025! have a wonderful holiday x sarah

PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS • NON-PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS ♥ https://ko-fi.com/panelshowsource

[thef1diary]

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

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate or repost any of my work.

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

[lure-of-writing]

His little sister

Summary: Azriel point of view of the things you do as Rhysands little sister (This should be read only after reading all in a days work and knock before you enter otherwise it probably won't make any sense as you need the know what happened in the other two for this to make sense )

word count: 2.5 k

Note: Hello! For a while I was stumped on how to continue the little sister series so boom! I present to you Azriel's pov. I would love to hear what you guys think about having things from this perspective also! please don't be shy and let me know!

The playful touches and not so subtle glances across the room paired with the seductive bit of your lip as it lifts into a forbidden smile is not lost upon the spymaster of the night court. In fact everything you did never went unnoticed by him. As Rhysands little sister he was more or less forbidden from having any relationship with you that was purely platonic or sibling-like. Much to the high lord's irritation, once you learned of the rules set in place for the general and the shadow singer, you had made it your own personal mission to see just how much you could get away with. Just how far could you bend the rules before your older brother snapped? 

Azriel was well aware of the game you played in hopes of causing your brother a small amount of distress. Unfortunately for him, he respected his high lord and his wishes to much to counter your advances with some of his own but that doesn’t mean he can’t help you accomplish your lifes works of making your brother rub his temples with a long sigh and a shot of whiskey or which ever bottle of alcohol appeared before him first. 

It had been just a few short weeks after your fifteenth birthday when you had learned about the guidelines Rhys had set for the two other males in your family. Being told what to do never sat well with you, neither did being told who you can and can’t do things with. At first your reaction was to find your brother and argue with him until he couldn’t think straight but when you were on the way to his office you bumped into your favorite member of the bat boys.  Azriel was leaning  against the wall of Rhysands office waiting for his meeting with Helion when you were stuck with a brilliant idea. “Az?” his hazel eyes shifted from the dark oak doors to where you stood in the middle of the hall. “Yes?”  as soon as the word had left his mouth he knew you were up to something. It was the way your eyes lit up in excitement and you shuffled over to him with hurried steps. Huddled close to his body you beaconed him to lean down so you could whisper in his ears. Wordlessly he follows your commands. “Would you like to help me make Rhys question why he was blessed with being my brother?” 

The sly smile and trouble that brewed in your eyes was enough to get him to say yes. Not like he could ever say no to you in the first place but that wasn’t important. From that moment on he would allow you to flirt with him and crawl into his lap with no rejection. This drove Rhysand up a wall. He said that they could not try to flirt with you but you never said anything about it being the other way around and you had taken full advantage of that each and every single time the opportunity presented itself. 

Family dinners amongst the inner circle were never an uncommon thing but since everything that transpired over the last fifty something years had the family dinners becoming a more common tradition. After dinner talks and catching up had been moved to the living room. Silently Azriel sat by himself, listening to his family talk. Perfectly content with listening rather than speaking. While Cassian went on this third rant about why he was certain that he could fight Bryaxis, if and big if here, they weren’t so scary looking, when you had gotten up from where you were sat next to Mor on the floor. He watched as you left the room and not even a second later his shadows informed him that you were getting another wine. 

His attention shifted from his brother onto you when you had reentered the room with a glass full of wine and strutted over to him and made yourself comfortable in his lap. Az would never admit it but the feeling of your arm draped over his shoulder and playing with his hair was one of his favorite feelings in the world. As your body leaned into his, the temperate difference between the two of you became very apparent to the shadowsinger. Without thinking he placed his much warmer hand on your freezing and goosebump covered leg to help warm you back up. The slit in your dress had done nothing to help keep you warm. 

Without saying anything he watched as his brother marched his way over to where you had chosen to sit, also known as Azriels lap. He watched as Rhys reached his hand out in hopes of pulling you off of closest friend and he watched as Rhysands face morphed into one of confusion to anger as Azriels wings furled around you to keep your brother from grabbing you from him. If there was one thing that the shadowsinger knew with one hundred percent certainty, it was that you could handle yourself. The context didn’t matter, you could always handle yourself. So while you and your brother went back and front he mindlessly began to rub comforting circles where his hand had found purchase on your leg. And once Rhysand had made his way back to his mate, he had leaned down and pressed his lips against your hairline. “You are a menace” giggling you smile up at him before shrugging and taking a sip of your forgotten wine. 

Visiting the court of nightmares was never something that brought Azriel much joy. More often than not he was watching for any threats against his high lord's life, now he had to worry about his high lady also. It wasn’t as if Azriel wasn’t capable of handling such a task but when you had revealed that you would also be in attendance, it brought Azriel another level of stress. He knew that you could handle the court politics and the volleyball of words sent back and forth with hidden messages. Hell you had even been trained by all three males and Morrgian. You were more than capable of looking out for yourself but there has always been a part of Azriel that couldn’t rest when he knew you could be in danger at any moment. 

Now the notoriously quiet male, while known for not saying much, always had something to say when it came to you. There was no comment too small that you made that didn’t get an answer from Az in return.  As you finally made your way down the staircase to your awaiting family Azriel had just about a thousand thoughts and compliments he could give you at any moment. While your brother had a meltdown in the background all Azriel could focus on was you and as you made your way down the last few steps he reached his hand out helping you the rest of the way down. Shamelessly he looked you up and down not caring that your brother just might beat his ass for looking at you in such an outfit. Once his eyes reached your, you sent him a wink and beaming smile. Az could tell that you had wanted to ask him what he thought of your clothing choices but decided that dealing with your brother would be the best idea  before he dragged you back up the stairs himself and forced you to change. 

While at the place of nightmares the shadows that sung to Azriel hung close to his body, only leaving to secretly watch over you and make sure you were ok. For most of the night all was well, at least as well as things can get in the court of nightmares. That was until his shadow came back to inform their master of the predicament that had presented itself to you. He watched from afar as you pushed your way out of the crowd and towards himself. Pushing off of the pillar he was once perched against he made his way towards you. Az’s blood began to boil when he watched the random fae male wrap his arms around your waist and pulled your body into his. In two long strides he was in front of the strange male and yourself, demanding he release his grip on you or he would do it for him. There wasn’t a part of Azriel that enjoyed the violence he brings upon those he was tasked with gathering information from but holding truth teller to the male's neck did in fact bring him joy. 

Upon your release he guided you back to where he was previously standing to make sure you were ok and that the random male didn’t inflict any harm to you. After his thorough evaluation of your body met his standards he returned his gaze to meet your and suddenly your cold hand was pressed against his warm cheek and the burn of the two temperatures had never felt so nice before. Once again your hand had found its resting place in his hair and your lips on his and Azriel swore hes never felt something as soft as your lips on his.  As soon as your lips had met his, Az knew he was in for a whole world of pain when Rhysand got his hands on him but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

Az recently pulled away when he felt the anger of his high lord coming at him with the purpose of making him bow to the power radiating off of Rhysand. “We should probably get out of here before he kills you.” looking down he saw the mischief twinkling in your eyes and he positive nobody can pull off that look quite like you can. The wink you sent over your shoulder as you grab his hand pulls him out of the trance you had put him in. Willingly Azriel followed your lead out of the ball room while you bumped into his arm periodically. “Honestly he just might kill us both.” he felt you mumble into his shoulder as you hid your face and laughter in his body. Chuckling he couldn’t help but agree before winnowing you back to the house of wind. 

After Rhyand had actually considered beating the shadowsinger to a pulp your usual antics had dwindled in frequency which saddened Azriel more than he was willing to admit. During training you kept clear of him in case your brother didn’t approve of you even looking in his general direction and it had been almost two weeks since he had last talked to you for more then five minutes and honestly it was starting to drive him crazy. After a family dinner consisting of you, Nesta, Cassiand and himself he finally approached you. “You're going to the Summer court tomorrow right?” As the resident know-it-all he already knew your answer but he waited nonetheless “Yes?” Azriel watches as you place your book in your lap to give him your full attention and he swears he could bask in it forever. “I’m not doing anything for the next week, would you like me to go with you?”  The beaming smile you sent him was confirmation enough. 

That's how he found himself in your room the next morning helping you get ready. You had asked his opinion on basically every piece of your outfit and Azriel had never been so happy to assist someone put together their clothes for the day. After you had pulled all the needed pieces of clothing from your closest you held up the corset you picked for him to see. “I’ll need your help putting this on.” And that's how once again Azriel feared Rhys would consider pummeling him once more. 

Not once during Rhysands withering glare did Azriel stop pulling the strings of your corset until they were tight enough and only then did he gently pull the strings into a bow before removing his hands from your body. After finishing his assigned task Az thought it was best to leave the siblings to deal with each other and he would wait for you on the rooftop to begin your journey to the summer court. Only after he could assume was a long lecture from your older brother on being safe did the two of you join him on the roof. “I swear if a single hair on her head is out of place I will kill you.”  As much as Azriel wanted to laugh at the worn out sound of his friend he simply nodded his head before acknowledging what he said. 

The week in the summer court with you felt more like two days. Any time with you never felt like enough. On the way back Rhysand had talked to him and you that he wanted a debrief before you did anything upon your return. Gently he set you back on the ground once he had landed in front of the river house and he already missed the feeling of your body on his. He really wished and in that moment that he never agreed to those rules Rhysand had set for him and Cassian all those hundred of years ago. 

The silence that engulfed the room would make anyone who didn’t know the two males squirm from how uncomfortable it was, but these two males had dealt with much more stressful problems and had sat in more silence than the average people did. Azriel knew that lately your antic had been pushing the line but he had never stopped you nor had he ever thought too. Mainly because he didn’t want you too but also in fear that if he asked you to stop you would never come to him again. “Truly Rhys there is nothing going on between me and your sister. You and I both know she only does this to get under your skin and she does that very well. As long as it bothers you then she will keep doing it. You know this.” 

After a long and much needed talk Azriel made his way to the stand outside of the river house collecting a much needed breath of fresh air while he came to terms with his conversation with his oldest friend. A few moments pass before you come waltzing out of the house as if you had accomplished some great mission. “Maybe next time he’ll knock” Azriel knew exactly what you were talking about and couldn’t help but laugh at what you said. He didn’t need to ask you what you did as the one shadow that always kept you company told him all about what you had just done to your brother and his poor unsuspecting mate. Without another word Azriel scooped you into his arm while pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. Gods he wished this wouldn’t be the last time he felt your skin against his lips.

Rhysand had asked him to put a stop to your behavior towards him. Not that you made the shadowsinger uncomfortable, gods no, you could never do that. It was just you were your brother's pride and joy and he refused to let the males he considered his brothers to be the reason your heart broke. Rhysand would never be able to forgive or look at Azriel the same and he knew that. Azriel just wished the golden string tying the two of you together didn’t have to be hidden from everyone including you.

Taglist: @kemillyfreitas @gorlillaglue25 @willowpains

[luveline]

Hii

Whenever you have time could you please do more single dad!Spencer. It’s just too cute and it really warms my heart how you write it.

tysm ♡ dad!spencer and his daughter amanda find their reunion unexpectedly interrupted when you need a place to stay the night. fem!reader, 3.4k

Spencer doesn't mind how tactile Amanda is. If anything, he loves it, content to have her sitting in his lap or on his hip, anywhere he goes and anywhere she wants to be. He tries to get in as much affectionate time with her as he can when he's home to make up for his days away. 

He doesn't like missing her, but he loves coming home. Amy sits on his stomach while Spencer lays on the couch, using his thighs as a backboard while they both fail to pay attention to the kids cartoons on their TV. 

"Were you good for Mrs. Gomorrah?" he asks, though he knows she was. He had to live through the agony that was teaching Mrs. Gomorrah how to text on a cell phone he bought for her years ago, but it was worth it to get those incremental updates that he relies on every day to get to the next without catching a flight home.

Amy had pizza 

Amy misses you. She said she is kissing you through my phone

Wants a new dress for school party tonight, emergency money OK to use? said she loves you 

Aaskkk k k o 

Sorry, accidentally texted you, Amanda made dinner tonight [photo]

The text messages help being far away feel less like torture. Spencer loves his job but he wonders if he should love it less, sometimes, when Mrs. Gomorrah remembers how to send photos, or when he can make it back to the hotel before bed time and call Amy.

But here she is in the flesh. Spencer doesn't worry about work when she's holding his hand. 

"I was good," she confirms, wiping hair from her face with a blue sleeve. She's in her pyjamas at three thirty. Spencer's in his matching set, blue long sleeve t-shirts with two dogs —a grown up and a puppy, seemingly a dad dog and his daughter— on the shirt and miniature dogs on the pants. "Promise. We did fruit kebabs last night." 

Spencer saw photos, but he still says, "Yeah? What fruits did you have? You know, strawberries will be extra yummy again soon because they're back in season." 

"We had strawberries, and bananas, and the green one, kiwi." She puts one of her feet up on his chest. He makes wide eyes at it to hear her giggle. "And with chocolate and maple syrup, it was really yummy." 

"We should make Tanghulu." 

This is a new word for Amy. "Tanghulu?" 

"It started with a berry called Chinese hawthorn, but now people use lots of different fruits. You make a fruit kebab, but instead of chocolate, you dip the fruit into hot sugar and it goes hard as it cools like rock candy, and you have good strong teeth, so you could eat it no problem." 

"It turns the fruit into candy?" she asks, wiggling her toes. 

"Kind of." Spencer covers her foot with his hand unthinkingly. She looks tired already though it's only the afternoon. She gets very tired when Spencer comes home, like she'd been waiting. "Do you want to have a nap with me, sweetpea?" 

"No, I don't think so."

Spencer made a mistake when she was younger. He thought leaving while she was sleeping would make it easier to say goodbye. It was for him, but Amy didn't sleep or eat right for days, and Spencer had to come home before the case was over to stop her from making herself sick. They've worked on it, Spencer never ever leaves without saying goodbye, but she still gets scared to sleep when they're together sometimes. 

He ushers her forward. "Come here," he says, "quick, give me a hug." She flops forward and Spencer arranges her into a cuddle, hand against her hair, his nose pressed to her forehead. "I missed you." 

"Missed you more," she says. 

"Not true. I missed you so much." 

"Don't go away again for a day," she says. 

"I'm staying home for a whole week. Maybe longer, okay? But I promise you, seven whole days no matter what." And he means it. The only thing that could change his mind is a mass murder situation, but otherwise, they'll have to make it work without him. He hates to say that kind of thing, but he has to say it, because Amy is his first priority. 

She relaxes into his arms. "Okay." 

His phone rings, because of course it does. Amy frowns her displeasure with tears shining silver in her eyes. Spencer shakes his head at her, "I'm not going, Ames. I promised. I won't answer anybody, this week is just going to be me and you." 

She glares at the phone and rests her chubby cheek on his chest. Spencer wonders if it's uncomfortable considering his lack of padding and sits up with an arm behind her seatbelting her to his front. "Let's go watch TV in bed." 

Her hands grab at the back of his shirt. "Bring your phone, dad," she says. 

Spencer kisses the side of her head. "No, I told you already, I'm not going." 

"What if Mrs. Gomorrah wants to come for dinner?" she asks, her voice smaller, sleepy. She rubs her face into his front. 

It's a good point. Spencer picks up his phone to check if it was her and frowns at the missed call. It's you. You've texted him too. 

"It's Y/N," he says. 

Amy knows you because whenever he's had to bring her with him (not often, but occasionally on regular work days when there's school reset days), you're very, very kind to her. You're not sure of yourself around kids but it doesn't matter, you let Amy sit with you if she wants to and you always talk to her with care, offer her snacks, anything that you can share. 

It's why he calls you back. That, and you're a nice friend. 

— 

You're feeling about as ashamed and sheepish as a girl can be as you take the elevator up to Spencer's floor. You don't want to impose on anybody, but you'd rather have died than ask Hotch, JJ's taking a vacation in Santa Monica, Penelope's on a conference with Kevin, Emily chose to use her week on an undisclosed trip, and Morgan was similarly off the radar. 

And you know Spencer has Amanda, you know they've been apart for longer than they've been together this month, and you hate interrupting their time together, but… you couldn't stay home no matter how badly you wanted to. Stupid landlord. Stupid cockroaches and stupid fumigation tents.

You carry your go bag with nothing but a week's worth of dirty clothes and your wallet. Your phone is about to die and you'd really wanted, more than anything, to crawl into bed and sleep the daytime away. 

You've never been to Spencer's apartment despite knowing him well, and liking him more. You knock on the door, apartment 305B. You're dead on your feet at this point, exhausted by the jet ride home, the commute to your apartment, the subsequent ten minutes spent crying on the sidewalk, and the next half hour debating if you could bother Spencer. Maybe you should've got a hotel, but it was already getting late and you just needed something familiar. Selfishly, you needed someone you knew after such a shitty case. 

"Hello," Spencer says, opening the door with a familiar girl held in his arms, "don't mind my jacket." 

Amy's clearly sleeping, tiny snores echoing from near his neck. It's cute, but it makes you feel much worse. "I'm sorry–" 

He doesn't let you apologise, "Are you kidding? What were you gonna do? We're excited to have you." He's kind of talking to you like Amy's still awake, enthusiastic whisper-shouting as he pulls you inside. 

"It's just for tonight, I promise. They said I'll be able to  back in by evening tomorrow," you say, holding your bag to your chest. You blink at him as you follow him to the kitchen. "Are you wearing matching pyjamas?" 

"You came over last minute!" he defends with a laugh. 

Spencer opens his hand for your bag and puts it behind a steaming bowl of soup. "Oh, were you guys eating dinner?" you ask. 

"No, that's for you. I'm gonna put Amy in bed and then I can do your laundry. Did you need a hug?" 

"What?" 

Spencer smiles at you. "I thought maybe you're having a bad day." He offers his empty arm and you don't know how to say no, don't want to, careful not to bump into Amy as you curl your arm behind his back. "We're happy to have you. You could stay all week and that would be fine. Did they really give you no warning?" 

"I called my landlord and he laughed and then kind of got quiet. I think he forgets that I live there." 

Spencer pulls away and puts a hand on Amy's back. She's very slight like Spencer but if she were any older he'd struggle to carry her for as long as he has. You can see the fatigue trembling in his left arm. "It's not legal for him to leave you with nowhere to stay, and without any notice. You could ask Hotch–" 

"It's okay." You gesture to Amy's face. "She's getting so big." 

"And heavy. Be back in a few. Eat on the couch if you want to." 

You wouldn't. Spencer takes Amy into one room off of the main room, and then comes back to grab your laundry before disappearing into another. His apartment is a fun but odd layout, the door leading into a living room slash kitchen with a dining table, then opening out left and right, bedrooms toward the back of the apartment and a bathroom behind. It reminds you of a flower, that central hub of life and the petals curling outward. 

You pick up your spoon cautiously. He definitely said the food was for you, but it's so strange to be greeted with a meal, you can't remember the last time someone made sure you had something to eat. 

Spencer doesn't attract your attention until he's pulling up a chair next to you with two glasses set on the table. "I put your pyjamas on quick wash. And your, uh, your grey bag." 

Your grey bag is a little net bag full of delicates. You try to be adult about it, but it's so super awkward that you end up laughing aloud, "Oh, shit, I'm sorry." 

"Don't be. It doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you. I just put the entire bag in, like, intact." 

You believe that, but you infer from the tightness of his voice that he's worried you'll think he's weird. Honestly, he's just nice, even if it's awkward. Everybody wears underwear. "That's what it's for," you say. 

"Do you think they make those in a bigger size? Amy's vests get tangled sometimes because the straps are skinny, that would be useful." 

"I'm sure they do," you say, toying with your spoon. "I… really don't know how to say thank you. I know we're friends, but it's different. To let me stay."

"When I was a kid I didn't have many friends. By high school I didn't have one. So I never got to have sleepovers until Amanda. And she's my best friend, but she's six, so…" 

You both laugh suddenly, beaming at one another in your wrinkled, mismatched clothes. 

You finish your meal through lighthearted conversation. Spencer takes your dish for the sink and you both move to the couch to watch TV. 

Clifford the Big Red Dog plays on mute. "I know you're thrilled to watch something this intellectually tantalising, but maybe we should watch a movie. There's a guide under the cushion," Spencer says. 

You dig for the guide but wherever he thinks it is, it isn't. 

"Doesn't matter. Mrs. Gomorrah will have one, I'll take her some dinner at the same time. Would you keep your ear on Amy? She might wake up."

He makes a tray for Mrs. Gomorrah, a neighbour and good friend of his. You've met her once when she brought Amy into the office, an Italian-American woman who's black and silver hair bounced when she talked. Beside his mother living in a sanitarium in Nevada, and his small daughter, Mrs. Gomorrah is Spencer's only family. He treats her accordingly. 

The washing machine starts to beep a few minutes after he's left. You spring from the couch and track down his washer and dryer, transferring your damp wash into the dryer and frowning at the machine's strange settings.

"Daddy?" a small voice calls. Sharper, unhappy, "Daddy?" 

"Amy!" you say, moving from your crouch to stand in the doorway. "Hi, honey! Your dad just went to give Mrs. Gomorrah some dinner." 

Amy squints at you. "Miss Y/N?" 

"Hi," you say tentatively. "My house is kind of broken for a bit and I asked your dad if I can stay the night." You bend to meet her eyes properly. "Would that be okay with you?" 

"Yeah," she says, smiling. "Yeah, please stay. Daddy's friends never come over." 

"Did you need something, honey? I can help." 

"No… You're sure he's at Mrs. Gomorrah's?" 

"Definitely one hundred percent positive. He can't go to work without me, can he?" 

Amy shrugs little shoulders. "I guess not." 

You can't help laughing at her. With the sound of the dryer bumping behind you, you meet Amy near the dining table and touch her shoulder gently to prompt her toward the couch. She jumps up onto the seat with the most cushions and you sit beside her. You and Spencer never managed to pick a movie, so the kids channel still plays on mute. 

"How do you turn it up?" you ask, offering her the remote hopelessly. 

Amy sidles against your side and points. You click the small white speaker button, greeted by the barks of another episode of Clifford. 

"Is this one okay?" you ask. 

"I love Clifford."

It can't be two minutes before she rests her head against your arm, her hand locking over the crook of your elbow. 

You're not sure what to do. She's Spencer's kid, so she probably does. "Do you want a cuddle?" you ask her. You'd be happy to give her one, but you don't know what's okay with her. 

"Please." 

You hang your arm across her shoulders and behind her back, stroking a tentative and short line into her arm, just once. "These are nice pyjamas, Amy. I saw your dad has the same ones." They're soft under your arm. Her hair brushes your wrist as she turns her head to crinkle her nose at you. 

"Thank you. Me and dad have all matching pyjamas," she says proudly. 

"All?" 

"Well, maybe not all. But lots." 

She hums and shuffles closer to your chest. It felt odd at first —although Amy has sat in your lap at your desk at work, and even given you a hug on her birthday to say thank you for the books and candies, you're not used to children or the things that they want. But it feels less foreign the longer she sits there, and you find yourself relaxing for the first time that day. 

Spencer comes back with a shiny TV Guide Magazine and a bundle of Amy's clothes under his arm. His eyes light up as her head peeks over the back of the couch. 

"Sorry, I was just at Mrs. Gomorrah's," he says, quickly putting everything down to take her into his arms. 

"I know," Amy says into his shirt. 

He kisses her head. You almost miss it, the affection quiet and swift. "Was your nap okay? Or do you need another one?" 

"Dad! Y/N's here." 

"Y/N doesn't care that you take naps, she takes naps too." Snoozing up against his shoulder with drool running down your chin. 

"No, I can't sleep because we're having a slumber party!" 

"We are?" he asks. 

"But she needs matching jammies." 

"Well, I don't have anything matching, but it won't be long for all my clothes to dry. I can wear jammies, then, at least," you assure her, sending Spencer a squinting smile that says, She's the cutest thing on planet Earth. 

He smiles back, as if to say, She really is. "Maybe Y/N wants a nap." 

Amy's concern lands on you. She climbs out of Spencer's arms, pressing her hand to your shoulder. "Please don't nap, I want to play games." 

"I'll play games, babe," you say. "Any game you want." 

"Yes! And, and maybe we can make, um–" Puzzled, Amy quirks her mouth into a frown and bounds back to Spencer. He rounds the couch and leans down at her gesturing. "What's it called, the fruit candy?" she whispers.

"From earlier?" he whispers back. "It's tanghulu. Tang-who-loo." 

She whispers a sweet thank you, spinning on the spot with her hands held behind her back. "We can make tanghulu, it's fruit kebabs turned to candy! Do you want to?"

Spencer smooths her hair back from her face. "You don't have to," he mouths, already squeezing her arm like he's prepared to talk her down. 

"Well, if it's okay with your dad I'd love to."

She gasps happily, jumping down off the sofa to race into the bathroom. "I'll wash my hands!" 

Spencer snorts and sits on the couch arm. "Notice how she didn't even ask me?" 

"You know that's a good thing." Spencer's probably read every parenting book there is. "She's so smart, Spencer. So smart, it's incredible. You're amazing." 

He scratches the collar of his sleep shirt, his curls moving as though woken by a gentle breeze as he nods to one side, "She shows some signs of an eidetic memory. Not like mine, but most children who have eidetic memories don't have them like I do. I can't take the credit for that, you know, beyond genetics." 

"Of course you can, someone had to teach her these things for her to remember them. You're never as nice to yourself as you should be, Spence. Everybody knows you're a great dad." You slouch back into the couch. "And I'm not just saying that because you're letting me stay for free." 

"There's no version of this situation where I would ever charge you. Thank you, Y/N. Having her by myself has been hard– it's hard. She's easy and I love her and she's better for me than she probably should be." He winces, his talking rushed, like he's listing statistics. "I haven't really been by myself. Mrs. Gomorrah. The team. We've known each other for a year but you act like Amy's family whenever you see her, and that means a lot to me. That's why I'm glad you called. You can always call me if you need help." 

"You can always call me," you murmur back. 

Spencer bumps your thigh with his knuckles. "I'm glad we're friends. Are you sure you're not too tired? Tanghulu isn't easy if you've never made it." 

"Says who?" 

"East Asian Eating, issue 78. We have to find the sugar, water, glucose syrup sweet spot or the candy doesn't harden."

"We can do it. You're the smartest guy I know, and I've been known to be resourceful. Plus, we have a world class assistant." 

Spencer stands up and offers you his hand to help you come with him, his fingers brushing yours for a moment that seems to stretch for minutes. "Just curious," he says softly, to your heart's clear delight, "when was your last check up at the dentist?" 

Right. He isn't about to tell you something you want to hear. This is Spencer —you should've guessed an odd question was on the horizon. 

"I'll have to think about it," you say.  

Amy bounds out of the bathroom and paints a trail of water droplets from the table to the kitchen. "He thinks you have weak teeth!" she explains. 

"That is not what I think." 

[theorphicangel]

#2 “let me take care of you, okay?

warnings: none, fluff.

boyfriend miguel series.

You didn’t know what you had done to the universe to deserve all of this.

From the moment you woke up things didn’t go your way. First a broken coffee cup, then a stain on your white shirt, followed by turning your apartment inside out for 15 minutes after losing your car keys whilst simultaneously trying not to start into a hysterical breakdown. Then having two deadlines piled up on you for the end of this week, managers giving you a million and one things to do and after listening to the high-pitched whining of that bitchy co-worker who spreads gossip like wildfire has now resulted in a heavy migraine.

Yet, somehow you still had to put a smile on your face. You couldn’t break down, not here and not now. There’s no time and there’s no excuses, you have to be professional.

That was the message ingrained into your brain from the second you clocked in till the second the clock hit five. But instead of relief the heavy weight of stress and work linger on your shoulders, following you down to the car-park and on your journey home. The invisible weight waits around you like a shadow as you wait for the elevator to pick you up, only getting heavier with every step that you take towards your apartment.

The weight still doesn’t disappear as you open the door to your apartment, the familiar scent of your favorite dish cooking in the air. You slide off your shoes, too exhausted to call out your boyfriend’s name. A habit that you usually do when returning home.

“Is that you, mi amor?”

You hesitate in responding, mind distracted as you slip off your coat. “Uhh– yeah, yeah.”

Miguel turns the corner, hands on his waist. He’s in a simple outfit of gray sweatpants and a black plain tee. He frowns a little as you place your bag on the floor. You’re a little less excited than usual.

Normally, you’d be bouncing into his arms right now, rambling about your day whilst trying to simultaneously pepper kisses across his lips. You swore one day you’d find a way to kiss and talk to him at the same time.

You say nothing more as you walk into the living area, eyes avoiding him.

“Did you have a good day?” You notice the low tone of concern. You know that he knows this isn’t your usual self.

“Yeah, yeah.” You try to reassure him with a smile, a forced smile. Like the picture of you in your senior year of high school on the fireplace at your mother’s house. Miguel remembers your embarrassment, turning over the picture frame whilst calling out to your mom in annoyance for having that picture on display.

But no, maybe this one is a little different. It’s more disheartening.

Miguel watches you disappear into the bedroom, shutting the door softly behind you. He’s not sure what to do, standing in the middle of the living room like an idiot. Does he go after you or do you want to be alone? Should he plate up your food or are you not hungry?

Instead he waits, deciding to give you space for a little bit before asking. Thankfully, you’re only gone for less than fifteen minutes, re-emerging from what looks like a well needed shower and your favorite hoodie of his.

For the first time tonight, you finally meet his eyes and without a single word you find yourself wrapped in his arms. He never really understood it when you said he was the best at giving hugs. He didn’t do anything special, he just…hugged you. He figured that maybe his height had something to with it but other than that he just held you as tight as he could, almost afraid that you’d suddenly disappear in his arms.

You bury yourself into his chest, his chin resting on the top of your head as you do so. His large, calloused hand rubs small circles into your back and without saying a single word his comfort is more than enough.

Coming up to the surface, you begin to feel ready to let it all out. You feel your throat grow tight as you try to speak.

“Today was just shit, mig, I can’t–” Even the recollection of it causes your eyes to swell up with tears. All you wanted to do was to hide away from the world, the thought of clocking in tomorrow makes your stomach flip upside down.

Miguel hums, “Just let me take care of you, okay?”

His arms wrap around you a little tighter as the words leave his mouth in a soft tone.

“Okay.” is all you have to say and all that heaviness from earlier which tormented your body seems to disappear, your mind now preoccupied with the way that Miguel holds you. You pull away, glancing up at him now as you finally let it all out.

“Work was shit.”

Miguel hums, continuing to rub small circles into your back as you spill out anything and everything that has pissed you off today.“...I’m just done, I don’t even think I want to go in tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to, I’ll call in sick for you.”

“Really?” You struggle to keep the surprise out of your voice.

“Really, mi vida, didn’t I say I would take care of you?”

“You don’t have to mig’”

You let out a giggle as Miguel clicks his tongue in faux annoyance. “I want to.” He emphasizes. “How many times do I have to tell you? I want to take care of you.” He leans down a little to place a kiss on your forehead. His soft brown eyes meet yours, a silent plea before the words even leave his mouth. “Let me take care of you…please.”

You shut your eyes, taking in the sensations around you; your mind now coaxing your body to rest.

Yes, you’ll give in for tonight, you think. You’ll let him take care of you.

thank you sm for reading!! reblogs are much appreciated!

[14dayswithyou]

I'm going to be a little evil :3c /silly

*I have stolen all of their headwear, leaving only FROGGY HAT in his closet.*

"Boy it sure is chilly today. Don't forget to wear a scarf and a hat when you come pick me up, okay [REDACTED]?"

✦゜ANSWERED: I believe in froggy hat [REDACTED] supremacy 🖤🐸

He knew. Of course he knew. [REDACTED]'s security system alerted him the second you stepped foot into his apartment, and it took the dark-haired hacker almost all of his willpower not to rush home and see you. But alas, he had other matters to attend to and messes to clean up here. Things he couldn't risk putting on hold, lest he pay the consequences for them later.

So, [REDACTED] settles for watching you through his cracked phone screen as you try to sneak your way around his apartment. They didn't really understand why you felt the need to be so secretive; you knew your boyfriend would be out for the day, you had his spare keycard and access to the entire 14th floor, and [REDACTED] had made it explicitly clear early on in the relationship that everything he owned was yours completely. Nothing was off limits to you, and that included every inch of his living space.

...And even himself.

Curiously, they watch with keen interest as you quietly slide the door to his walk-in closet open and take in your surroundings once more — making sure that you really were alone in his dimly-lit bedroom. But barely a moment passes before you stride in with a newfound purpose, unzip your backpack, and begin to stash all of his caps and beanies inside.

Well, alright then. If you decided he no longer needed those items, then so be it. He was never one to deny you anything.

But in retrospect, you were honestly doing [REDACTED] a favour. He genuinely didn't really need those items in his possession anymore — especially considering how he had no real reason to conceal his identity from you after all these years of being together.

He could never forget about that pivoted moment in time when you opened up to your beloved hacker about his rather... intense need to watch over you 24/7. And after you had scolded him multiple times for stalking you from darkened corners and alleyways outside your apartment complex, [REDACTED] had all but tried to change his ways. To better themselves for you.

After all, you deserved nothing less.

Glancing back at his phone once more, [REDACTED] takes in every little movement you make as you continue to tuck away his belongings; down to the turn of your head and the flex in your muscles. Not a single twitch or glance goes unnoticed under his watchful gaze — and had the dark-haired man not been so enraptured by your ministrations — he surely would've noticed that it was just about time for him to start packing his tools up and head home.

Home, in time for the date you had planned for the evening.

But the way you purposefully moved around his closet had [REDACTED] in a trance. You were extremely methodical about the things you were swiping from his shelves; neatly packing away all of the headgear, earmuffs, and scarves on display (and even the ones hidden within the depths of his drawers!). Yet... One single item remained in the aftermath of your wake.

Atop one of the lone shelves in the corner, it sits, isolated from the rest of its kind. Worn out yet well loved; it was no more than a novelty item your boyfriend had originally won for you from a crane game. But even after their constant insistence that you should keep it, you rebutted it all by saying it'd look better on him instead — all while pushing the cute, froggy hat back into his hands with a teasing smile.

("If you keep bleaching your hair like that," his real name falls from your lips like sweet nectar, "All of your hair will fall out. When that happens, you can use this to keep your bald head warm!"

"...When that happens? Hmph. You're gettin' cheeky." With a smile of his own, your boyfriend reaches out to gently pinch your cheek. "I haven't touched m'hair in ages.")

So after watching you be so meticulous with the items you were "robbing", the hacker couldn't help but wonder what your main motive was. Why leave that silly, little frog hat alone unless... Did you want him to wear it? You knew [REDACTED] would never say no to you — let alone to a frivolous request — but admittedly, they did find it rather endearing to watch you put in all that effort just for him.

Just like how he used to be... Back before you opened the curtains of his life and brought sunshine into his heart.

Gone are the days of "Ren", when [REDACTED] had to snoop around your apartment just to get any sort of inclination of what your type and interests might be. No longer did [REDACTED] have to "borrow" some of your old clothing to keep himself company on lonely nights; to put them over his pillow and pretend like it was you he was holding close to his chest. He no longer had to steal your presents and tokens out of spite and jealousy — only to return them days later once they noticed how upset it made you.

Too caught up in reminiscing about the past, [REDACTED] had almost missed your swift getaway from his bedroom. Living up to your nickname, you glide down the staircase and across his foyer as if you sprouted angel wings on your back and stroll into the elevator, before closing the door and pulling out your phone.

And just like clockwork, [REDACTED]'s camera feed gets replaced by the bright red and green call buttons that shake and taunt him at the bottom of the screen — alongside the personalised caller photo of you smiling towards the sunset ocean with [REDACTED]'s jacket atop your shoulders. The dark-haired man leaves no room for pause before he's swiping his finger across the screen and eagerly anticipating the sound of your voice.

You greet him in that casual, nonchalant tone of yours, and [REDACTED] had to resist the urge to start recording the call — to save the addictive timbre of your voice for when he needs to hear it the most.

"Man... It sure is chilly today, don't you think?"

There's the familiar sound of tacky elevator music playing in the background, and part of [REDACTED] thinks you're purposefully calling him right now to let him in on your (not so) secret escapades... To let them know where you are.

Or perhaps you were already aware that he knows, if the way you were glancing up at the elevator camera was anything to go by.

Regardless, you don't give away any other telling signs as your beloved hacker watches you through the camera. Your bag is still carefully slung over a shoulder, while one of his old, black university caps received the pleasure of being fiddled with in your hand. Your voice returns once more, and it causes a grin to form on his lips.

"Don't forget to wear a scarf and a hat when you come pick me up, okay?"

There's a newfound teasing lilt in your tone, which has [REDACTED] latching on to your every word with bated breath and scrambling for a reply.

"'Course. Wouldn't miss our date for the world. 'N make sure y'stay warm too, angel." Without missing a beat, he easily takes his place in your little game. "Wouldn't wanna misplace your jacket 'n get cold now, would we?"

Your pixelated smile on the screen gives everything away.

You hear the unmistakable sound of [REDACTED]'s sports motorbike before you see it; watching the corner of your street as he appears from the darkness like a phantom.

And like the gentleman that he is, [REDACTED] doesn't make you stray far from the safety of the streetlamp either. The moment your boyfriend pulls up in front of you, one of his large hands reaches around your waist to draw you near (almost as if he'd gone years without being in your presence), while the other makes quick work of the latch of his helmet. In one swift motion, he pulls it off and rests it against the tank—

Only to reveal that cute, pastel green frog hat sitting atop his head.

He can't help but smile when you do; clearly pleased that he went through with your silly request. At that, you let out a low hum of appreciation as you lean against your boyfriend's chest, and [REDACTED] returns the favour by bending down and pressing a chaste kiss against the crown of your head as well.

"...Think y'could give this unworthy prince another kiss, love?" Your beloved boyfriend leans in closer until your lips are millimetres away from touching, "Otherwise I might stay cursed t'live in this froggy form forever."

[xomakara]

Roomies With Benefits

(re-posting from my old account seulrinnie-rinrin/xomakara-secondary)

SUMMARY | You have no choice but to be roommates with San when there is a glitch in the leasing office’s system. The more time that you live together, the more that you both can’t help but want each other. PAIRING | San x Reader GENRE | non-idol!San, College AU, Roommate trope, fake dating trope, smut with some plot, protected sex (wrap it up everyone!), vaginal sex, oral sex, fingering RATING | Mature, 18+, NSFW, MDNI LENGTH | 7,380 words TAGLIST | -- NETWORKS | AUTHOR’S NOTE | I would not mind living with San (or any of the other members) if there was a glitch in the system. LOL. Hope you all enjoy, reblog, like, comment~ Love you all ❤️

"There has to be misunderstanding," You looked at the management team of your apartment complex. "There's no way that you could lease the unit to two people who signed two different leases at different times. Please tell me I'm not crazy."

"My system shows that both you and Mr Choi are on the lease..." The manager searched for something on his tablet. "I will double check with my secretary to confirm if everything is correct. We should have an answer by tomorrow afternoon. Until then, can you and Mr Choi share the unit?"

You shook your head. There was no way that you'd share the apartment with Choi San, the most popular guy on campus and your arch rival since freshman year. Okay, sure he was stupidly, insanely hot with a sexy brain to boot but he wasn't someone you would ever let into your personal space, much less share the same living space.

There was also the small fact that he was one of the most eligible bachelors at school and always getting girls all over him. He had dated many of them before they got tired of playing second fiddle to his social life or wanted to get closer to his family money. You had seen him flirting with women during lunch, talking to his other stupidly, insanely hot friends about how he couldn't wait to bang yet another girl later that night. Every time he turned around, some new girl was ogling at him and that infuriated you.

Not that you hadn't had your fair share of guys sliding into your DMs just because they were interested in you, trying to impress you with expensive gifts or showing up on campus with roses, candy and other 'cute' things just to see you smile and notice them. Sure you were the Queen Bee on campus, even with barely any effort on your part, but that didn't mean you needed everyone else telling you how pretty and desirable you were, did it?

No. You were perfectly fine being single, thank you very much.

But it seemed like this misunderstanding would force you to spend more time together. How terrible.

"Let's just share the apartment for one night." San spoke up, the manager giving him a small nod. "Tomorrow, we expect answers."

You walked out of the management office, a scowl on your face as you waited for the elevator. San was by your side, tapping his foot impatiently while keeping an eye on your reactions. You were tired and just didn't feel like arguing with him right now.

"Let's just get to the apartment and figure something out." San muttered next to you. "It's probably not a big deal."

You sighed. "If only it were that simple." You tried to find the quickest route to the apartment unit so you could get away from him.

The last thing you needed right now was to come across San and a lot of sexual tension going through the roof, only making you more irritable than you already were. You hated how badly you wanted him, hated yourself for reacting the way you did whenever he was near you. It was disgusting, embarrassing and it made you want to punch the wall.

Shit. This was bad. Really bad.

San noticed the look on your face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." You said as you approached the front door and opened it. You looked at the boxes that littered the living room area, both yours and his mingled together in a weird mixture of feminine and masculine decor.

He sighed and followed you inside. "Are you sure you're okay? Everything seems fine to me. What's the problem?"

"We need to share this apartment tonight." You stated matter-of-factly. "That means I'll be sleeping here with you. By tomorrow, the whole campus is going to talk about how the Queen Bee and Alpha Male hooked up. No way can that happen. My reputation is on the line."

"And what do you care about your reputation?" He asked, walking towards you. You backed up against the door, causing him to stop.

"You know I care about my image." You snapped back. "Besides, I've worked too hard to maintain my social status for me to lose it because of a mistake."

His eyes narrowed as he took in your features. His nostrils flared slightly, his gaze darkening with every passing second. You knew what he was doing and you wished you could say something, stop him from approaching you and taking you against the door like a predator chasing down its prey.

Your heartbeat accelerated and your body started to react in ways you never expected, long buried desires resurfacing once again, feelings stirring deep within your heart.

If he touched you right now, you wouldn't fight him. You'd let him take you and fuck you into oblivion until neither of you could walk. All you cared about was his lips on your neck, his hands running along your hips and thighs, your fingers entwined with his. You'd be content to go slow and explore your bodies for hours, waiting for the moment when he finally plunged into you, thrusting hard and fast until you couldn't take anymore.

Instead, you were stuck with San, who was staring at you with his hot brown eyes, and even though he didn't touch you, the longing in his stare burned hotter than the fire raging behind his irises. You were powerless to do anything but stand there, watching him silently and hoping that he would finally make his move.

But he didn't. He turned away and gestured to the door of the bedroom. "Take the room. I'll sleep on the couch tonight. Hopefully, tomorrow we can find out why there was a mix-up and we won't have to worry about this shit anymore."

"Are you sure you don't mind?" You asked hesitantly. He glanced at you, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly as he stared at you intently.

"Yeah, take it." San nodded. "Despite all the things you hear about me on campus, I don't go around sleeping with women without their consent. Even you, Queen Bee. I respect that. Just take the room."

"Thank you." You breathed softly, thankful for his generosity and maturity. With a slight sigh, you walked towards the bedroom and closed the door behind you. You locked it and crawled onto the bed, pulling the blanket over your body and laying there for a few seconds before turning off the lights.

You lay on the bed for a few minutes, wondering what had gotten into San. Why did he suddenly act so mature? And was it really possible that you weren't imagining things earlier? Did he actually desire you as well?

It felt like a heavy weight was lifted off your shoulders. Yes, maybe it was a mix-up and the leasing office really did mess up your contracts. Maybe, just maybe, everything would work out just fine.

With those thoughts filling your mind, you fell asleep quickly.

You woke up slowly, disoriented from the light pouring into the room. Your heart raced as your eyes adjusted to the sunlight. Slowly opening your eyes, you blinked several times, your eyes adjusting to the unfamiliar ceiling above you.

Getting up and unlocking the door to the bedroom to make your way to the kitchen, you looked at San's figure as he snoozed away on the couch. The covers were pulled up to his chin and his shirt was partially undone, exposing a sliver of chestnut skin.

For a moment, you just stood there and watched him sleep, the excitement from yesterday still lingering on your skin.

You started up the coffee machine, brewed a fresh pot and made your way to one of the boxes in the living one that had your clothes packed in. Careful to not wake San up, you closed the bathroom door behind you and locked it so that you could shower in peace.

After taking a quick shower, you dried yourself off and put on your clothes. You made your way back to the kitchen and poured yourself a cup of coffee, adding a spoonful of sugar to sweeten it a little. As you sipped on the delicious black liquid, you leaned against the counter and browsed on your phone. A minute passed before you heard the sound of footsteps on the wooden floor, followed by a yawn.

"Good morning." San said with a soft smile as you poured him a cup of coffee and slid it towards him.

"Morning." You replied. "After you get ready for the day, let's go down to the leasing office and see what they say."

"Sure." He said as he gulped down half his coffee, eyes trained on your form as you took another sip. You knew exactly what was going through his head and you didn't think he was going to be able to hide it from you anytime soon. The expression on his face was clear evidence that he liked what he saw.

About half an hour later, you and San both made your way to the leasing office. Walking past the crowds of students that congregated outside the main building, you arrived at the office and entered the queue. After a short wait, you finally reached the front desk and signed your name on the sign-in sheet.

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience." The manager apologized again as he looked at you and San. "Unfortunately, there was a glitch in the system and I'm afraid that our records show that we mistakenly assigned you the same unit."

"There's no other units that are available? Not even in a different location?" San inquired, a frown etched across his brow.

"There's nothing left." The manager shook his head. "All the other units have already been filled by other students that are no longer living in the dorms, sorority or frat houses."

"When is the next available unit?" You asked, putting on your best poker face. "How long will it take for us to get one?"

The manager paused for a moment, seemingly torn between wanting to tell you that there wasn't another unit available and being worried about offending you by saying so. "I'm so very sorry but there won't be any available units until the next school year. You may have to find someplace else to live if you cannot accept that."

"That won't be necessary." San interrupted. "I'm sure Miss Y/N and I will figure something out."

"That's good." The manager gave you a sympathetic smile before looking back at San. "Well, if you need anything at all, please let me know. If you need help finding a new place, I'm happy to assist."

San nodded and gave the man a polite smile before turning towards you. "We should go. Let's head back to the apartment."

You followed him back to the elevator, ignoring all the curious glances that the both of you attracted. Some people didn't know why you two were sharing an apartment, others were just trying to catch a glimpse of San and you, others were already forming their opinions and thoughts of the two hottest people on campus and if they were really dating. Either way, everyone wanted to know the answers to these questions.

By the time you got to the apartment unit, the sun had almost set and nightfall was upon you. Both of you dumped your bags inside the apartment and decided to sit down on the couch.

"So..." San said, breaking the silence. "I guess we're going to spend our last year of university in the same unit..."

You nodded. "Yep."

"Let's try to work something out. Why don't you continue to stay in the bedroom and I'll stay on the couch for the time being?"

"I can't let you sleep on the couch forever, San." You protested.

"Then just let me stay in the bedroom until we find another solution." He suggested. "Unless you don't want to share the bed with me either?"

"I-I'm fine with sharing." You stammered out, avoiding eye contact with him. There was a nervous twitch dancing on the end of your lips as you felt your cheeks grow warm with embarrassment.

"What are you thinking about, Y/N?" San asked, bringing your attention back to him. His eyes flickered from side to side, peeking at your lips before landing on your eyes.

"Oh...nothing." You mumbled, averting your gaze. "I can already hear the rumours..."

"Then why don't we just date?" San suggested. "At least to the public. No one will bat an eye if we said that we moved in together because after being a couple for a few months. But in private, we'll just be two roommates. Nothing more."

"Maybe...maybe we should do that." You murmured softly. Your cheeks grew redder and your voice was barely audible. You could feel your heart pounding loudly in your chest as your pulse raced in anticipation of what San would say next.

"I promise I won't touch you unless you ask me to." San said softly. "And I won't demand anything sexual from you."

You swallowed heavily, biting your lip as you met San's intense gaze. "You...you're sure?"

"Of course I am." He said firmly. "I don't want to pressure you into doing anything that you aren't comfortable with. So I'll leave it up to you."

Tilting your head to the side, you tried to decide how to respond. If this was truly the only option you had, then perhaps dating San would work out. “Okay, fine.” You sighed, giving in. “We’ll try it. But if I ever start feeling uncomfortable or I don’t want to date you anymore, you better not hold it against me.”

"Deal, now why don't we start unpacking?" San suggested, standing up and walking towards the bedroom. "This is going to be our home for the next year. Let's make it a nice home, okay?"

He was right. This would be your home for the next year and you should make the most of it. Putting aside your worries for the moment, you grabbed your bag and followed San into the bedroom. Once you had unpacked your stuff, you sat down on the edge of the bed while San sorted out the rest of his belongings. You both then moved to the living room and settled on opposite sides of the couch.

"I can already see the look on your friends' faces when we tell them that we're 'dating'. They probably think that we're crazy and that we're playing games. They'll see right through us." You remarked.

"Then should we practice on making it look real?" San asked. "Or is that asking too much?"

“I don’t think I have it in me.” You shrugged. “But if it makes you feel better…”

With a smile plastered across his face, San leaned forward and kissed you on the lips. It wasn’t overly romantic and it was brief, but it showed enough of his intentions to get you to agree to his plan. You hadn’t expected that kissing him would make you feel tingly inside, but your stomach fluttered as he pressed his lips to yours. You could taste the remnants of coffee on his tongue and you couldn’t help but pull him closer to you, deepening the kiss. Before you knew it, you found yourself pinned to the sofa by San, unable to move or resist his grip.

"Y/N..." San whispered hoarsely. "Do you want to stop this or...?"

"I...don't know..." You confessed, not wanting to lie. "We can keep kissing...but nothing else tonight."

He looked into your eyes, a brief smile gracing his beautiful lips. "Okay, I could deal with only kissing." He paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the idea. "Though...if you change your mind, just give me a sign and I'll stop immediately."

Relieved, you smiled softly at San before nodding slightly. "Yeah, I'll let you know."

"Okay, then I'm going to kiss you some more." San purred, leaning in once again. "If you tell me to stop, I will."

His lips descended slowly over yours, igniting your body with passion. He tasted like coffee and mint toothpaste and he smelled amazing. His hands explored your waistline, slipping under the material of your shirt. All you wanted was to feel San’s skin against yours. To feel every inch of his muscular frame pressed against you. To inhale the scent of his cologne and bask in the warmth radiating off his body. With those thoughts in mind, you leaned forward and ran your fingers through his hair, pulling him tighter against you.

Your kisses became deeper, your breathing erratic as you moaned louder than you intended. Your hips arched upwards, pressing against San's crotch. A small groan escaped his throat as you began kissing him harder, your breath hot and ragged against his ear.

You weren't aware that your fingernails dug into his scalp as you felt him push against you, trying to make you moan louder. "Y/N..." San moaned as you bit down on his earlobe, sending chills down your spine. "We should stop...while we can."

You lifted your head, panting heavily as you gazed at San. "Yeah, yeah we should stop." You agreed, trying to steady your heartbeat.

Damn, living with San was going to be interesting.

That night you laid in bed under the covers as you turned your head to watch San snoozed next to you on top of the covers. You stared at his sleeping form for several minutes before realizing that you were staring at him. You smiled softly as you layed back down, curling up beside him. After a few moments, San opened his eyes and gazed at you.

"Are you awake?" He asked quietly.

"Mmhmm, yes I am." You responded softly. "Hard to sleep with someone lying next to you isn't it?"

San rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. "It certainly can be." He murmured. "But I've been doing it for so long that I just kind of accepted it."

"I guess I haven't gotten used to having someone next to me yet." You commented with a small chuckle.

"The Queen Bee is not used to having someone next to her?" San teased. "How strange."

Shaking your head, you smiled. "No, not at all. I know I get plenty of male attention being the Queen Bee on campus but I just turn everyone down. I guess it's because I prefer spending my time alone. Besides, the guys who are attracted to me are creeps anyway."

"I'm attracted to you." San chuckled. "Does that make me a creep?"

"There's no way you're attracted to me, Choi San." You replied, shaking your head again. "I'm not exactly your type."

"Who says you're not my type?" He countered. "All the other girls that try to get into my pants? You don't think I notice you?"

You sighed, rolling your eyes at San's persistence. He was determined to prove his point, despite the fact that you still disagreed with him. "Look, I'm flattered that you think I'm attractive but-"

"No, Y/N." San interrupted. "Just hear me out. You're beautiful, smart and funny. Plus, you don't put up with any crap from anyone. Do you know how rare that is?"

For the first time since San spoke, you stopped to think about his words. "Am I really that special?" You asked.

"You're pretty damn special, actually." San admitted. "I don't know why you don't think you're attractive if half the student body and myself fall at your feet."

Laughing lightly, you shook your head. "I think I'd rather spend my time alone than get wrapped up in relationships." You decided. "Besides, I'm not interested in hook ups."

"You didn't say that when we kissed earlier." San pointed out.

"I-it was different!" You protested. "A kiss doesn't mean I want to have sex with you!"

San smirked. "Why did you kiss me then? Just to test the waters?"

Blushing bright red, you ducked your head low as San reached out and gently stroked your cheek. "Not necessarily..." You muttered, glancing away.

"Don't be embarrassed by what happened earlier." San said, placing a finger underneath your chin and lifting your head. "I liked kissing you and I know you like kissing me too. If you don't want to do anything else tonight, then that's fine with me. But you need to at least admit that there's something between us."

Your heart pounded loudly in your ears as you fought back the desire to lean forward and kiss him. "So what do you suggest we do instead?" You asked.

"Well..." San trailed off. "There is one thing I've always wanted to do with you."

"Oh?" You asked.

"Mmhm." San nodded. "I was hoping that maybe you'd let me kiss you again."

A grin tugged at the corner of your mouth as you watched San's face light up. "I'm not opposed to another kiss." You admitted. "But..."

"But?" San prompted.

"I was thinking..." You trailed off, trying to find the right words. "Maybe we could just go slow and enjoy each other's company."

San regarded you for a moment before nodding. "Alright, I can do that." He said. "Tonight's the first night we live together so it'll be the perfect opportunity for us to get to know each other. We can take things easy and see where they lead us."

You placed a hand on San's cheek, tracing his soft features with your thumb. "I like the sound of that." You told him. "Now you can kiss me."

For the remainder of the night, you were lost in his kisses.

It had been several weeks since you and San started living together as roommates. In the comfort of your own home, the both of you led your private lives away from the prying eyes of others. Nowadays, the both of you would talk for hours on end about your day or complain about the latest episode of your favourite drama. You never thought that being able to converse with someone was such a relief, especially after a stressful week at work or class.

When the both of you were out in public together, you both played your parts as a couple convincingly. You'd hold hands with San, kiss him, blush when his hand slid lower than where it needed to be and even grab onto his arm whenever the conversation turned serious. Even San's friends were convinced that the both of you were dating and no one batted an eye when you came out of the bathroom in the middle of the party to hug San, accidentally brushing your breast against his arm or when he would wrap an arm around your waist to pull you close to him and kiss your forehead.

Friends would ask about your sex life but you clearly didn't have one. At least not yet. You were content spending the night in bed telling each other stories or just cuddling while watching television. Exchanging kisses every now and then but making sure to limit yourselves to making out and no further. It wasn't that you didn't want to have sex with San, it was just that you weren't ready for a relationship at this point in your life. Not to mention that you didn't want to rush into anything. If you took your time getting to know San better, it would make everything less awkward when the time finally came.

And then San's friend Wooyoung wanted to throw a small get-together at the apartment.

"Why does everyone want to throw a party here?" You complained as you walked into the kitchen. "Can't anyone take care of their own parties?"

"Scared that everyone will find out?" San teased you.

"How will they find out when our apartment has both of our stuff scattered everywhere?" You mumbled. "Our apartment literally looks like a couple. If anyone steps into the bedroom, I will murder someone."

San chuckled as he stood beside you, handing you a cup of tea. "I know you'd rather be curled up on the couch with a book but let's try to keep appearances up tonight. Okay?"

You sighed, taking the offered cup. "Fine."

Wooyoung had invited all of his friends and a few girls from the campus. Although you didn't want to mingle with the others, you did it for San's sake. But as the night progressed, you became increasingly bored. Most of the guys in attendance were there to ogle over the attractive women but San stuck close to you the entire time. The girls, on the other hand, kept flirting and vying for San's attention but he refused them all politely.

He only had eyes for you.

Sighing, you excused yourself from the room to use the restroom. After finishing your business, you left the restroon and tried looking for a seat but noticed that they were all taken. Everyone was drinking, eating, and conversing with each other. When San saw you standing there, he gestured you over to him, only to pull you into his lap.

"San!" You whispered, his hands resting on your hips.

"Shh...it's time to play house." San murmured huskily into your ear. "Need to keep up the charade."

You blushed deeply, glancing around at the amused stares of his friends. For the sake of San, you accepted his invitation to stay seated on his lap. At first, it seemed innocent enough, but soon you could feel San running a hand up and down your back, his soft fingers caressing your bare thigh. The tips of his fingers slowly inched higher until they brushed against the bottom of your skirt.

"San..." You whispered again, surprised by his sudden boldness.

"Can I kiss you, Y/N?" He breathed into your ear. "Please? I really want to kiss you right now."

Your breath hitched in your throat, knowing full well what he meant. Not that you were opposed to kissing San, you enjoyed the feel of his lips pressed against yours whenever you got the chance. But he'd never made a move on you like this before in public. Sure, you'd gotten hugs and a quick peck on the cheek from him for appearances sake but none of those kisses made your heart race like this.

"What do you think?" San whispered, pulling back from your ear long enough to meet your gaze.

"In front of everyone?" You questioned quietly.

"Baby, we need to give them a show so they can get up and leave the apartment." He reasoned. "Besides, I've been thinking about kissing you this whole day. And you looked so sexy today, dressed in that short skirt and that tight, sexy top. So yes, in front of everyone is exactly where I want to be kissing you."

With a soft sigh, you reluctantly nodded. "Alright, let's give them something to watch."

Slowly, San pulled you closer, placing his free hand on the nape of your neck, gently holding your head still. Then, with his mouth just inches away from yours, San whispered, "Kiss me, Y/N."

You closed your eyes and lowered your head, offering your lips to San without hesitation. In return, San captured your lips in a gentle kiss that melted your insides and made you gasp. Your mouths remained connected, devouring each other with lustful desire. There was no hesitation, no inhibitions; it was purely a display of raw lust and intense passion.

The way he held you, tenderly caressing your back, sending goosebumps all over your body and the pressure of his lips against yours sent shivers down your spine. All you wanted to do was to run your fingers through his messy, black hair and slip your arms around his neck, begging him to touch you wherever he pleased.

As if reading your mind, San broke the kiss, grinning as he rested his forehead against yours. "Well, are you satisfied?"

Hearing San speak like that caused your cheeks to burn red. "You could say that." You replied, a little breathless.

"Good." San grinned, lightly running his fingers down your side.

You heard a cough and you both looked up to see Wooyoung staring at the two of you with a smug grin on his face. "Sooooo, is this the cue for us to end the party and go home so that ya'll can fuck each other senseless? Because that's what I'm hearing."

San chuckled lightly as he rose to his feet, pulling you along with him. "Yep, I guess that is what we're doing. Time to shut the party down. Y/N is feeling tired."

"Tired, my ass." Wooyoung sneered, eyeing the two of you with amusement. "You guys are just horny. Look how the two of you can't keep your hands off of each other."

"Once you get a taste of pussy, you can't get enough of it." San commented and you couldn't help but bury your head in his shoulder out of sheer embarrassment. You looked up at San and he grinned down at you.

"Alright, folks. Party is over." You announced. "Go home so that I can have my boyfriend all to myself. Bye!"

You smiled brightly as you waved goodbye to everyone. Soon, the apartment was empty except for the two of you and it felt nice to finally be alone with San again. As soon as you sat on the couch, San's hands grabbed onto your thighs and pulled you closer to him.

"You don't have to pretend anymore, baby." San whispered in your ear, making your heart flutter uncontrollably. "All of these people aren't here to judge you. We can enjoy ourselves in our own little world."

He stroked your leg softly, trailing his fingers down the edge of your skirt.

"It feels good to not have to act like we have a charade going on." You murmured, smiling up at San.

"Why don't we make this charade real then?" San gave you a mischievous smile, unbuttoning your tight shirt and letting it fall to the floor. "Why don't we live in reality instead of this fantasy that we're putting on for everyone else?"

"San...what are you-"

But before you could finish your sentence, San reached up and cupped your face with his hands, giving you a deep, passionate kiss that left you breathless. Once he released your lips, you stared up at him with wide eyes. "Baby, I don't want to just kiss anymore. It's so hard for me to control myself around you. I want to throw you over the couch, tear your clothes off and fuck you until neither of us can move anymore."

"I know you want it too, Y/N. It shows in the way you look at me sometimes." San admitted, leaning down to give you another gentle kiss. "When you kiss me sometimes. When you wear these sexy clothes and don't think I'm not paying attention to you. I pay attention, I pay so much attention that I want to rip your clothes off and fuck you until you're screaming my name. I want you, baby. More than I ever thought possible. I want to lose myself in you. Take you any which way I please. Make you scream my name so loud that everyone within earshot knows who you belong to."

Fuck, you wanted this man. So bad that you ached in places that you never knew existed. Your body hummed with pleasure as you moaned against San's lips. "And why hold it in?" You whimpered, raising your hand to trace the outline of San's jawline.

"Because you're a queen that deserves to be treated like one." San growled, slowly slipping his tongue into your open mouth. "And if my queen wanted to wait and take things slow, then I would respect her wishes. I would wait until she wants me inside of her, filling her with the sweet warmth of my love."

You gasped as his warm tongue slid over yours. His kiss was different from the ones you shared in the past. Now, it wasn't as if you two were strangers; there was an unspoken connection between you two that grew deeper with every passing second. "And now?"

"I want you, Y/N. I want you more than anything in this world." San rasped. "Tonight, I want you in ways that I haven't even imagined before. You've made me realize that there are a lot of things I've never experienced in life, and now that I have you, I plan on experiencing everything."

Your heart swelled in your chest as you gazed at San with longing. You leaned forward, pressing your lips against San's once again, wanting nothing more than to be in his embrace forever.

This. Was. It.

"I want you too." You mumbled against his lips. "Every part of you, San."

A single hand ran through your hair, tugging gently while the other caressed your cheekbone. Your hands grasped the sides of his shirt, gently pulling it upward until it fell to the floor with a thud.

"Oh God, baby." San moaned as you kissed your way down his neck, leaving a trail of fire-like kisses along his collar bone. When you finally stopped teasing him, you placed your palms against his muscular stomach and ran them downward until you reached the waistband of his jeans. Slowly, you unzipped his pants, revealing his hard length for the very first time.

"San...you're so beautiful." You breathed, caressing his shaft with trembling fingers. "I've always loved the way you smell, but seeing you with your pants undone, sporting a cock so big and thick in front of me has made me a complete mess."

He groaned as you took his dick into your hand, admiring the thickness and length of it. It was perfectly shaped and there was a huge vein pulsating down its center, stretching out towards the tip of his erection. His dick was so perfect, so breathtaking, that you had a difficult time keeping yourself from taking him into your mouth and sucking on it.

Instead, you cupped his balls in one hand and began massaging them with the other, causing him to groan even louder.

"Are you trying to drive me crazy?" He asked in between pants.

"Is it working?" You teased.

"Yes..." He muttered through clenched teeth. "More, baby. Please, give me more."

His words fueled your already raging desire for him. You squeezed his balls harder, eliciting a low moan from him. You dropped to your knees and started to pull his underwear down until they pooled at his ankles. San threw his head back, moaning louder as your mouth descended upon his cock, tasting the salty essence of pre-cum as you engulfed the entirety of him in your mouth.

"You're such a good girl." San moaned, running his hands through your hair as you pleasured him. "So eager to please. So eager to swallow my cum, just like you swallowed all of me. That's it, Y/N. Suck it like you mean it. Suck it like you fucking love it."

Breathing heavily, you licked the head of his dick, humming as you continued to suck on him. The taste of him was intoxicating, addicting, almost like drinking your favorite cocktail. Each time you slid your mouth further down, taking him deeper into your throat, you felt yourself getting lost in his intoxicating scent.

Soon, you found yourself drooling over the sight of his dick sliding between your lips. And as you looked up at him with hooded eyes, you noticed the way he looked at you. Like you were his entire universe. Like you were meant to be his.

"Please..." San whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Take it all."

You hummed against him, continuing to stroke him in a circular motion with your hand as you kept up with your ministrations with your mouth. You could feel him getting close to climax, so you slowed down, taking his dick out of your mouth. "Cum for me, San. Coat my throat with your cum."

You wanted him to cum so badly. You wanted him to fill your mouth with his semen so that you could drink it down greedily. "Let it flow, San. Let it all flow down my throat."

A few seconds later, you heard San release a strangled gasp. A second after that, he flooded your mouth with his cum, shooting stream after stream down your throat.

It didn't matter if you weren't prepared for it. All that mattered was that San came, and that he did it because of you.

As he pumped out the last of his semen into your mouth, you felt the vibrations in his dick as he became still. A moment later, you took the head of his dick into your mouth, sucking the remaining cum off of him. Then, you raised your head and looked up at San, panting slightly as he tried to catch his breath.

"Did I do good?" You asked, tilting your head to the side as you watched him carefully.

"You blew me away, baby." San chuckled, reaching out to touch your cheek. "And now I really want to fuck you."

"Mmm, okay." You nodded. "That sounds like a great idea."

With a wicked grin, San wrapped his arms around your waist and picked you up off the ground, carrying you over to the bedroom. Once he laid you down on the bed, he climbed atop you, kissing your forehead, his hands pulling off the last of your clothes. After that, his lips followed their path southward, lingering against your skin as his mouth moved down to tease your breasts.

Once his lips latched onto your nipples, he began sucking gently on them, occasionally releasing them to circle around them with his tongue. At the same time, his fingers began circling around your core, his thumb dipping between your folds and pushing into you with soft, tender strokes.

"Ahh..." You cried out as your entire body began to tingle. "S-San!"

"Tell me what you want, Y/N." San murmured against your breast. "Tell me how you want me to fuck you."

Gathering all of your courage, you pulled his face upwards and locked eyes with him. "Do whatever you want with me, San. Do whatever you need to do to get you off. Fuck me however you want. But please...fuck me hard."

At the sound of your begging, San laughed softly and said, "Well, when you put it that way...you make it very difficult to refuse."

Grabbing a condom out of the nightstand drawer, he ripped it open with his teeth, using his other hand to roll it down his throbbing member. Soon enough, he positioned himself between your legs and settled himself on top of you, sinking into your wet heat with one thrust.

It was the best feeling you'd ever experienced. Being completely filled by this man. This man who you desperately wanted to claim as your own.

San grabbed your wrists, pinning them over your head as he started to pump his hips, slowly. "God, you feel amazing." He grunted. "You're so tight around me. So hot. So fucking hot. I can't believe that I'm finally here, buried deep inside of you. Your pussy is tighter than I could have ever dreamed of. How is that even possible?"

"Fuck, San..." You panted, rocking your hips underneath him. "Keep going."

"Okay." San replied, smiling as he pushed into you harder. "You want it harder? Okay, I'll give it to you."

One of San's hands went to your hip, gripping you tightly as he slammed into you. His other hand gripped your hair, bringing your face closer to his as he bit down on your shoulder. "Fuck, baby." He whispered. "Your tits look amazing bouncing in the air."

"Does it feel good, Y/N?" He whispered, pushing into you even harder. "Tell me what you like. Tell me what you want me to do."

"Ahhh..." You cried out. "I like this, San. Just keep doing this. Keep doing exactly what you're doing."

His lips left your shoulder and traveled to your ear where he nibbled lightly on your lobe. "I love the way you say my name." He murmured, brushing his nose across your cheek. "It's so sexy. So, so fucking sexy."

He then trailed kisses down your neck, pausing to kiss and suck your collar bone as he continued to plunge into you. Before long, he was running his lips back up to your ear, whispering against it. "Y/N, are you ready for me to take you to heaven and back? Because I am. I am right now. As soon as you let go, I'll take you to paradise and fuck you until we both pass out from exhaustion."

"Oh god, San..." You whimpered, tightening your thighs around him. "Take me there. Take me to paradise. Don't stop fucking me. Never stop fucking me. Don't you dare stop fucking me."

"Never." He agreed, running his hand over your ass as he increased his pace, slamming into you over and over again. "I don't ever plan on stopping."

"Yes, yes, yes!" You screamed, burying your head into the pillow beneath you as San increased his speed yet again. You dug your nails into the mattress as you panted loudly, attempting to regain your breath. "San, oh god, San!"

"Cum for me, baby." He panted against your ear. "Can you cum for me?"

"Yes!" You cried out, arching your back and grabbing hold of the sheets, wrapping your fingers around them. "I'm coming! Oh god, I'm coming!"

A few seconds later, San's entire body stiffened and his dick began pulsating inside of you. For a brief moment, his cock twitched as he held onto you for dear life before the orgasm hit him and washed over him. He fell forward onto your chest, gasping for breath as you clung to him. When he caught his breath, he pulled out of you, sitting upright on the bed next to you and pulled the condom off of his dick. With a small smile, he tossed it onto the floor, then collapsed beside you, spooning you from behind.

After several minutes, you finally recovered from your near death experience and opened your eyes. You smiled softly as you saw San lying naked next to you.

"Hey." He murmured, brushing his fingertips along your arm. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." You assured him, snuggling into him.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" San asked, stroking your arm with his thumb.

"No, you didn't hurt me." You giggled. "Actually, it felt pretty damn amazing."

"I'm glad." San sighed. "And to think that we've been living together all this time and haven't done this. We definitely need to remedy that situation."

You couldn't help but laugh as you pressed a kiss to his lips. "And how do you propose we do that?"

"Anytime, anywhere." San grinned. "I don't care. As long as it involves you and me and lots of sex."

"Oh, we can definitely work with that." You giggled. "Speaking of which...I'm kind of curious about something."

"What's that?" San asked, running his hand up and down your thigh.

"Now that this whole thing has happened...are we still playing pretend or...?"

"We're not pretending anymore, Y/N." San interrupted you. "From now on, you're mine and I'm yours."

You swallowed nervously. "Yours?"

"I'm saying that we're together, baby." San explained, pulling you in close. "For real this time. No more games. No more pretending."

You smiled softly, resting your head against San's chest. "That makes me really happy, San."

"Now that that's settled," he murmured against your neck, "how about we get this night started again? Because I know I can't wait any longer to fuck you again."

"San!" You let out a laugh as you squirmed in his arms. "Don't you dare."

"...Too late." San smirked as he slid into you. "I told you that I wouldn't stop until I fucked you again. And I meant every word."

And he certainly wasn't kidding.