#it’ll be less awkward some day

[mydotguy]

Would it be inappropriate to ask of Rog and Ron to hold hands? They deserve the closeness after all that’s happened.

Well. They’re taking baby steps

[cheyisagirlkisser]

. ✦ .R U Mine? FWB Ellie x Reader. ✦

Content: JACKSON ELLIE X FEM! READER, Alcohol consumption, friends with benefits, mentions of casual sex, some angst, Cat is Ellie's ex-girlfriend in this fic, making out in the rain, nipple play (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), scissoring, happy ending this is definitely an emotional roller coaster though, set in TLOU universe in which reader and Ellie are young adults, Joel is still alive and mentioned, Jesse and Dina are in a relationship in this, I know the pic is Seattle Ellie but this is still set in Jackson.

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: I know I literally just said I'd be releasing this in a week, get tricked. (I spent hours editing to finish this but it was so worth it)

Description: Ellie has always been bad with emotions. Dina tells you that what seems like everyday at this point. Still, you can't help but notice the way she leaves the morning after your nights together. You can feel the tension in the way she pretends like nothing happens during patrol together. Just when you think you finally have the situation figured out, it blows up in your face.

 "How drunk are you?" Dina's voice echoes in your head, making you turn away from your current view and back onto the current conversation.

"Uhhhhhh…..however drunk you want me to be?” You giggle at Dina’s failed attempt to stifle a laugh.

“You are so doomed tomorrow..don’t you have patrol with Jesse?! And I thought you were gonna try to go talk to Ellie and make things less awkward..” Dina looks at you more sternly now.

You groan. “It’s not like it’ll even fuckin’ matter, she’ll just ignore me like she always does. Like she’s doing right now.” 

You know that was a bit over dramatic, but it’s not untrue. Ellie and you have been seeing each other - no, fucking, for the past few months. Every single time you’re in public together, she mostly acts weird towards you, feigning disinterest. The act she puts on is hard to believe when she’s between your legs making you cum your brains out the next day. It’s not like you don’t understand the difference between love and lust. You absolutely understand it, especially in a place like Jackson where getting attached to someone can be riskful. However, Ellie is never a quick fuck-and-leave. Not only is the sex amazing, but she tells you things in the voice she limits for only you to hear, and things she says never make you wonder if she means them. Her actions, however, have you lost. 

Ellie was a friend before all of this. She was no childhood friend who grew up with you but simply someone who you connected to well, and well was an understatement. You know almost everything about her, from her favorite rations to bring on long supply runs to her shower routine. Now, the two of you are really at a limbo; the patrols since the first hook-up have all been awkward, with Ellie being extremely quiet or overly nice, which may seem like a good thing but once again you know Ellie. She has never been the type to keep her mouth shut and clean. The crude jokes and sarcasm are your favorite pieces of her personality, and you just assumed at first that it was just her getting used to the dynamic. However, as time continues, it is still just as weird, and the two of you are hooking up just as often. 

Currently, you’re wasted to no ends at a party in Jackson you wish you didn’t even go to. Of course, Ellie’s here joking around with Jesse in the far left of the backyard like nothing is weird between the two of you. Again, it may be dramatic, but you just hate the fact that you have to keep it all a secret from everyone. (You told Dina as soon as it happened, but that’s because you can’t keep secrets from your best friend!) You know that from the beginning, it was always supposed to be sex and a friendship. Both of you didn’t want a ton of commitment, but that changed overtime as the hook-ups started to last longer and the aftercare went from sitting in bed together to holding each other like lovers do. Dina warned you that Ellie isn’t good with her feelings, but it causes bitterness within you when she kisses the top of your head the other night then refuses to even say hi to you at a party.

You sigh, turning your attention back away from Ellie once more and onto Dina, who is trying her best to lecture you on why you should just talk to Ellie instead of letting the situation get so awkward, but you’re not really hearing her. You’re not typically a melancholic drunk, but Ellie really has a knack for bringing that side out of you, especially when she’s halfway across the yard talking Jesse’s head off and refusing to make eye-contact. Every time she laughs, it stabs at your heart. Not because she’s happy, but because you want to be the one to cause that feeling in her. You want to be the reason she smiles and giggles, you want to hear all of the swear words she wants to say and the stupid jokes she likes to come up with. You honestly miss her, and you know it’s stupid that you even fell for her, but you hope that someday things will at least be normal once more. Not that you wanna lose the sex, though.

Dina drags you over to the mentioned group and forces her boyfriend Jesse to escort you home. You don’t argue back. You’re too sad to argue and it’s embarrassing to be on the verge of tears as Ellie’s silence next to is continued.

-

You can’t help but think of Ellie, even when you’re all snug in your bed and half-conscious. It’s the memory of her face as you walked away and how she glanced over to you but never spoke up. She would have made your day so much better with a simple ‘hello.’ It’s not her fault, you tell yourself. It was never ever her fault but yours. Still, you feel so bitter wondering where it all went wrong for you. 

Usually, you never experienced such a level of attachment to one person. It’s not like love was new and you were far from a virgin when you and Ellie first hooked up, but something about her is engraved in your head and you just can’t escape it. You picture the button-like curve of her nose and the way light reddens her hair, a color that is almost impossible to make out in the confines of the indoors. Sometimes, you wonder if Ellie was born to be part of nature. She smells so Earthly and the way she moves, converse padding through grass, it’s like when you see someone practicing a hobby meant for them: you just know it’s meant to be that way. You used to love going on patrol with her for that reason, to be able to see her so comfortably scavenging and on Shimmer’s back. Now, it’s stiff and awkward, and the sense of fate that you feel when seeing her do what she is so naturally good at is challenged by her distance. 

Deep within your thoughts, you’re pulled out by a creak and the sound of your window opening. You quickly sit up, attempting to dry your tears with your sleeve when you see Ellie clumsily diving into your bedroom. Usually in the circumstance of being angry with someone, you know that you would tell them to fuck off. Ellie, however, cannot be told that. Her charm on you is far too wrapped around you like vines to concrete and so you laugh even through the tears. 

“Your window is fuckin’ narrow, you know.” 

“I wouldn’t know. I use the front door.” Despite the snark in your words, your voice cracks slightly as you sniffle and try to hold back the hot tears. 

Ellie sighs, and you can tell she is holding back. You hate this, the way conversation still flows at little points in time before continuing onto becoming nothing but awkward, stiff silence. Ellie surprises you and moves quickly to sit on your bed near you, pulling you into her arms. 

You know you shouldn’t crumble, but you do. Her embrace is so warm despite the fact that tomorrow it’ll be non-existent, and so you cling onto her while you still can. Your tears dribble down your cheeks and onto her shirt where the material grows damp. She only holds you tight, not making any further moves. Somehow, that is worse than the latter. The idea that this is what the relationship (if you can even call it that) has become is so emotionally involved, now there is no doubt that there is more, but there won’t be in the morning. 

You grieve the moment for what it could’ve been and fall asleep in Ellie’s arms as she coos you so softly, whispering sweet reassurances, only taking your tears as drunken sadness and not for what it was - her own doing. 

When you were once a young girl, you found comfort in the sound of clocks. The rhythmic tick, tick, tick lulled you to sleep. Now, you awake to the same ticking coming from the round clock mounted on your wall by a nail behind it. The familiar sunlight is plastering the bed in patterns much like time itself, telling you that the day is ahead of you and that you cannot sleep it off for much longer. Of course, Ellie’s presence is lacking. She left before you woke up. It hurts more than the other times that you opened your eyes to see that the girl you slept with the night before had left you, because she held you so dearly the previous night in a way that is always more than friendly or sexual. The inbetween of that must be hard for her to differentiate. 

You arrive at the East gates around 8 am, and Jesse is there waiting for you with a polite smile on his face. 

“Hey. You ready to head out?” 

“Yeah, sorry if I’m running a bit late.”

Jesse lets out a small laugh at that. “I won’t hold you to it. You were pretty hammered last night.” 

You avoid his teasing gaze, knowing full-well his words ring true. You were embarrassingly drunk last night, and you probably said some things to him that you don’t even remember now, but he definitely does. 

“You act like you weren’t drinking too!” 

“Oh, please. I’ve been drunk but not that drunk. You were white-girl wasted.” 

That makes you laugh, but at the same time your heart clenches along with your uneasy stomach. That’s a term one freckle-faced girl is known for saying because of Joel. 

“Can we just get on with patrol now?” Jesse rolls his eyes at your whiny tone and short dismal, but nods anyway and begins to signal for the guards to open up the large gates. You sigh, taking reluctant steps out of Jackson along with him. “My head’s killing me and I need to get this over with so that I can go home and nap.”

The first 30 minutes of patrol goes just as expected, the trek to the neighborhood you were assigned to clear and search through is long and boring. Jesse isn’t much of a talker when it comes to patrols, usually sticking to professionalism. That doesn’t surprise you much. While Jesse likes to drink and have a good time, he’s always taken patrol seriously. You recall countless times you’ve heard him scold other people for not taking their work seriously enough, and you partially understand. The lives of the people in Jackson all count on each other to do their jobs efficiently. Still, you know that patrol can be boring and nerves can be high. Sometimes, people just need to have a bit of humor in their lives to keep things from getting too grim. Afterall, leading an overall grim life as a patroller is no way to live. It’d tear your spirit out, starting from the inside. 

However, as you reach the building, Jesse stops in his tracks. His usual disposition is broken and he turns to you with a sigh. 

“Listen..” He struggles to find the words, “I just wanted to talk to you about something that I’ve noticed.”

You hope this isn’t going where you think it is. “Yeah?”

“Ellie’s one of my best friends, and I can tell something’s going on between the two of you, even if she won’t tell me.” He notices your visible discomfort at the mention of Ellie, but presses on. “I’m just warning you that she’s not good with her feelings. She can be all awkward and weird about them, but you’re a good person. I know she cares about you.” 

You don’t answer immediately, a bit caught off guard by his words. Still, they resonate with you. You’ve heard this from Dina too, but you previously wondered if she was only wanting to give you a soft landing. Dina, as much as you love her, has a tendency to try to avoid hurting your feelings. Jesse is quite the opposite, and you know that what he says has meaning to it. 

“Thanks, Jesse.” You give him a slight smile, and he nods. 

“Just talk to her, okay? You guys are both great. You deserve better than whatever the fuck you’ve got goin’ on.” 

You can’t help but laugh slightly at that despite anxiety churning through you. If Jesse sees potential, why can’t it be realistic to think that you and Ellie have a shot at being more than just friends who often have sex? Why can’t you be girlfriends?

The rest of the patrol is still half better, half worse. You’re anxious about actually talking to Ellie about your feelings and the aching from the previous night hasn’t faded. The task of taking out infected is just as dreadful because you know that in any moment, all of your current problems can become squabble compared to the issue you’d be faced with if a bite were to be imprinted into your flesh. It’d be tragic. Still, you have hope. You carry hope with you that soon, you may get to make some progress with her and get out of this weird spot. You think about that hope every moment that your knife is plunged into the rotten fungi-covered skin of another clicker. 

Before, your plan was to make a bee-line for your own house and sleep off the liquor from the night before, to get some actual sleep. Now, your feet seem to lead you to the path of Ellie’s garage. You’re just ready to see her and get the difficult conversation over with so that you can finally know how she feels.

On the way, your heart races with hope and fear. Questions circle around your head like bees swarming their hive; will Ellie reciprocate your feelings? Even if she does, will she want to actually be in a relationship with you? She may not even feel the same way.. You have to stop yourself from going overboard. As you reach her little garage, you take a deep breath and mentally count the seconds in your head.

Tick, tick, tick…One, two, three..

Everything will be fine. Even if this doesn’t work out, you can at least move on from her and have closure. You can’t help but smile at the thought of no longer having to deal with awkward patrols and weird conversations. Finally, you walk towards the garage door; your steps are faster than before and charged with nerves. Your hands are shaky but your mind is determined. 

You stop yourself from knocking on her door when you hear the sound of laughter.

You recognize the all-too-familiar laughter that belongs to Ellie, of course. It always makes your heart tumble into your stomach upon hearing it. However, you hear another fit of giggles beside hers that cause a clenching in your heart. Was she with another girl…?

You quickly pad towards her window, her curtains opened wide of course. From even just the side, you can see the scene inside of her room. Ellie is sitting in bed with Cat. You feel sick to your stomach at the sight of the girls so effortlessly talking, something Ellie hasn’t bothered to give you in months besides the times you’re in bed together, naked for her. 

Cat is drawing on her arm and it makes you livid with jealousy. You know that she and Ellie dated before. You can’t help but wonder if this is the reason that Ellie holds back from you. Was she really still in love with her ex-girlfriend all of this time? Were you just a rebound to her? 

Your heart breaks within you, and you’re more hurt than you are angry. The frustration is definitely there, though. You don’t bother to knock, storming back off to your home.

-

Ellie knew from a young age who she was. She has a foul mouth, likes nerdy things that others may insult her for, and she likes women. Her sexuality may have been a bit of a spectacle in Jackson. When she and Cat were seen holding hands when they were together, she was forced to get used to the stares thrown at them. They built her up into everything she is today. However, Ellie is nothing if not troubled.

Her emotions aren’t so easily adaptable. Her feelings feel murkier at times and clear at others, yet she cannot convey them in the ways others do. She knows that she is in love with you. She feels an emptiness when she is away from you for too long and wonders if it would be smart to let herself be so honest with you, to risk losing you after spending the rest of her days with you. She struggles to convey all of that, too; what if you find her to be overwhelming? Sex with you may be one thing, but these feelings could scare you away. She can’t lose you. 

Perhaps her lack of proper conveyal pushed you further away from her grasp.

It seems that you won’t talk to her anymore. She can’t pinpoint what is causing the change, but all she knows is that it is all too real. You, for some reason, won’t volunteer to patrol with her anymore. You don’t knock on her door, even if it’s just for that one thing that has been the main foundation of your relationship for the past few months. You lack the softness in your gaze when you’re in her presence; you lack to gaze at her at all. 

Something in Ellie is entirely disheartened by your sudden absence in her life. She knows that she was awkward before, but she genuinely wanted to tell you how she felt about you. She wanted to carve your name into the surface of her heart so that she can only bleed you, as if your hands don’t squeeze at the organ enough. She recalls the times that she’d take deep inhales of your hair after sex just to be filled with your scent. She thinks about the last time she got to hold you and how she left after, just because she couldn’t live with it if you rejected her in the morning. 

For weeks, this avoidance continues. At first, Ellie tries to speak to you. You ignore her or brush her off with short responses every time. After a while, she begins to pull away as well. That is, until you’re walking home in the rain as the crash of thunder surrounds Jackson at all angles. 

Your boots make wet pitter-patter noises as you try your best to hurry back home after a late patrol. The sky is dark, the only source of light is your own flashlight and the dim street-lights that make a path down the street. Unfortunately, your house is so far from the center of Jackson that it requires a longer journey to get home than it does for most people. You live on the outskirts, which can be good for privacy, but not so good for travel. 

You wish that you had brought an umbrella with you earlier before leaving your house. Now, it doesn’t matter. All you can focus on is getting home and not being struck down in lightning. In a world filled with fungi-based zombies, you’d think that something as unique as being fried from a thunderstorm would be the least of your worries. Your steps quicken until they don’t. 

You trip face-first into the gravel, your skin on fire from the sudden harsh tumble. Your clothes are covered in mud and dirty rain water, some pebbles sticking to the soaked fabric. You groan in discomfort, but you’re halted from your progress in rising when you look up to see a frantic Ellie staring down at you. 

“Holy shit, are you okay?! What the hell are you doing out here, it’s raining cats and dogs..” 

Usually, you’d laugh at that joke. Instead, you avoid her gaze and try to stand, wincing at the soreness from the fall and the scrape on your knee left from the sharp gravel. 

“I’m fine. I just got back from patrol.” Your words are so boring and short, it makes Ellie’s heart ache. She misses how things used to be.

“You’re not gonna make it all the way back to your house like this.” She states, and you know she is right, unfortunately. Your clothes leave you feeling like a wet dog, dirty and half-way drenched. Your knee is probably bleeding, and you simply don’t want to walk all of the way home. Still, you’d rather do that than face Ellie after what you witnessed. 

“I can make it, I’ve walked home before.”

Ellie scoffs at your stubborn, dry tone. “Yeah, no shit. But not like this. C’mon, just come back to the garage. You can borrow my clothes and I’ll ask Joel for a first-aid kit.” 

That sounds so like Ellie to offer. You remember countless nights in her garage, some before the whole situation happened when you only played video games and let her read you comics until you were snoring on her couch. You also remember the late nights spent against her, panting as she made you cum in any way she could, only to act as if it didn’t happen the next day. The thought makes you grow bitter. 

“Maybe I don’t wanna go home with you.” You state in a monotone, or at least try to. You pray that she can’t hear the break in your voice, notice how your already wet face is easily splotched with a cluster of tears. 

That makes Ellie’s heart completely squeeze within her body. “But..why?”

“Why?! Because you led me on, Ellie!” 

Ellie’s eyes widen at that. She didn’t expect that. “Lead you on? How..How did I lead you on? I know I was awkward, but I-”

You quickly cut her off, your voice raising with pent-up hurt. “It’s not about your stupid awkwardness! It’s about the fact that I was clearly just a rebound.” 

Ellie goes silent at that. A rebound? What the hell were you talking about? A rebound for who?

“A rebound? What are fuck are you even saying right now..? I never..” Her voice trails off, she’s clearly confused; that only fuels your anger further.

“You only agreed to sleep with me because you wanted to get over Cat. Am I right, or am I right?” Your tone slides from angry to practically livid. Underneath it all is pure heart-break. 

“That’s not even true! I’ve been over Cat for a couple years now and you know that. Why would I still like her after this long?”

“I saw you and her in your stupid garage, Ellie!” As you shout, lightning strikes, causing you both to flinch. You should just turn away and rush inside, rush anywhere indoors. You know that. Still, you’re too focused on all of the hurt inside of you. “I saw her drawing all over your arm and I heard your laughter. You never laughed like that for me unless we were fucking. You never smiled at me like you smile at her, or Jesse, or even Joel for fuck’s sake.” You feel sobs bubble up from your throat and the rain pouring down upon the two of you. “I just wanted you to be happy with me like how you were before. Instead of…just pretending like we were nothing at all.”

Ellie looks like she’s about to argue back, but her words best her. She instead moves to stand in front of you, and even despite the tension and distance between the two of you, you can’t help but think about how beautiful Ellie looks, her soaked bangs glued to her forehead and her clothes soaked, clinging onto her slender form. She cups your face almost hesitantly, her fingers brushing against your jaw as if she’s afraid you’ll push away. She can feel the heat of your tears in contrast to the coldness of the rain water on your wet face. She aches at the difference. 

“Listen to me..please..” Her voice, so soft and intimate, makes you want to do whatever she asks. She is so gentle even as the thunder booms once more, almost making you jolt again. “Cat was only drawing on my arm because I wanted to get a new tattoo, and I’ve been well over her for years now. We might’ve dated when we were young, but all we are now is a friendship. I needed her advice on you. I wanted to know what to do, how to tell you how I feel..” 

You look up at her, your voice hesitant. “And how do you feel?”

She exhales, a shaky and addictive sound. “I don’t want Cat back. I want you back..I miss you. I miss the goofy shit we used to do on patrol.” She chokes out a laugh, ironic for the speech and the nerves she’s feeling from confessing all of this to you. “I miss hearing your laughter, I miss how you smell so lovely even when you live in a fucking apocalypse. I yearn to hear you talk to me. Talk to me about anything. I miss the way you sneeze, the way you stumble over yourself like how you just did and got your damn patrol clothes all muddy.” She takes one final moment to savor your face, to memorize your features right in front of her in case you reject her final confession. “I don’t love Cat. I love you.

Her words hit you so deeply, right in the heart where you need to feel her. You don’t hesitate to lean in and Ellie almost immediately meets your lips in a bruisingly desperate kiss. 

Your hands grasp at her face like she’ll disappear in any moment, fingers finding her hair and pulling at the wet, tangled strands of auburn.. She pulls you closer by the waist and her palm can feel sensations that make her believe this moment is something straight out of a dream. Dots of rain fall upon the both of you as her lips pull your bottom one in between them, making you gasp softly and part your lips. She takes full advantage, slipping her tongue into your mouth. 

The two of you are now impossibly close as your mouths slide against each other so needily, so fervently. Every brush, every wet smack of your lips ignites more than just a fire between the two of you. Ellie is itching to keep you like this, but she desperately misses all of you. She wants to devour you and solidify the fact into existence that you are hers, and you won’t ever doubt her love for you. 

Droplets of rain wetten the kiss further, but they do nothing to prevent the heat of your mouths enveloped, or stop the way the two of you push and pull closer to each other like magnets. The only thing that breaks the kiss is a sudden bolt of lightning rather close to your location. 

Breathless, Ellie’s forehead meets your own. “We should go back to my garage.” You nod, and quickly, the two of you scamper off to Joel’s backyard in which her small place is located. 

Inside, Ellie’s lips meet yours once more, thirsting and full of longing. Damp clothes are pulled off of the two of you; bodies meet each other and you can feel every inch of Ellie against every centimeter of you. Her stiff nipples graze yours, making you shiver despite the warmth of her garage. 

“Say you love me again,” you plead with her so breathlessly.

She doesn’t hesitate to be truthful, not after holding back for so long. “I love you. I love you so much, it hurts.” 

Her lips drag down your neck, her hands guiding your hips to walk back towards her bed. You fall onto the soft mattress and her body quickly follows yours. Each swipe of her tongue over your skin sends sparks of pink electricity through your veins and between your legs. 

“I need you, Els.” You’re panting, a delirious mess and yet more content than you’ve been in a long time. 

“Shh, I’ve got you. I’ll give you all of me. I’m yours now.” 

Ellie’s body is smothering yours, and she has to settle further down to make contact with your tits. Her mouth is all over the soft, bumpy texture of your nipples, lapping at the hardened peaks to send little shudders through your spine. Your body craves her after so long, but you appreciate all she gives you. Her mouth takes its time on each of your nipples, her love so needy and desperate yet savoring. You grasp at her messy hair, trying to pull her up to kiss you.

When her bare weight settles back onto yours, your mouths soon meet for a slower, but just as intense kiss. You take your time to slide your tongue against hers and lick into her mouth, exploring her as if your time here would last forever. Her body involuntarily grinds against yours and though there’s not direct friction onto either of your clits, you still whimper into each other’s throats.

Ellie’s palm slides down between your humid bodies as she distracts you with her tongue swirling against yours, a delicious sensation you can’t seem to find anywhere else. Her fingers suddenly rub at your clit, making you moan into her mouth, an eager sound so easily swallowed.

This isn’t the first time she’s touched you like this, not even the second time. Still, your body reacts as if this is all new. The way she touches you is sloppy and passionate, not anything in comparison to the previous hook-ups in which she was able to make you cum but gave you what was a watered down, held back version. Now she can give you everything. 

The kiss slows, but your lips lingered against each other’s. You can still lick at the taste of rain droplets on her swollen lips; you wish to rub against them so hard that they taste of nothing but your own lips. 

“Inside me, please.” You beg against her lips, sending fizzles of heat throughout her own cunt and making her clench around nothing. 

“Good,” she mumbles against you as she eases two fingers into your moistened hole to elicit a soft, open gasp from your lips, “wanted to feel inside your cunt again. Missed it.” 

Her calloused fingers work you, stretching your walls to ease any discomfort. You don’t know what to focus on with the amount of feelings coursing through your body - the subtle curve of her breasts are visibly if you flicker down, but you can’t seem to do so as you throw your head back onto her pillow and stare up at her ceiling to try and collect yourself; the way her eyes intensely watch over the way you gnaw at your bottom lip with pleasure, biting down when she curls her digits in the most delicious way possible; her mouth painting noticeable hickeys all over your neck, an action you’d usually scold but can only grasp her face for more; the soft ‘love you’s leaving her mouth between suckling. She can’t help but remind you after all of this time.

Her fingers batter your insides repeatedly, fingertips pressing into your spongy spot until you cry her name and your nails are piercing into her skin. Each slide into your walls and the slight retreats sends waves of pure pleasure through your body, your peak being the only thing either of you can focus on. Her eyes look over your face, watch the way your breath recedes as your orgasm bleeds into your stomach and into your head. Each ripple shooting through your walls causes your walls to clamp down onto her fingers as if to hold them inside of you forever. She doesn’t stop pumping into your hole until you physically cannot withstand it any longer. 

“I love you, Ellie.” 

Your words, so saccharine, make her forget about her plan to cuddle with you after making you feel good. She’s now hitching up your leg and pulling hers over your thigh, slotting her neglected and slick cunt between your legs, her folds grinding against yours and causing you to mewl at the sudden sensation against your clit.

“You love me?” Ellie asks, watching as you nod your head eagerly, “bet this pussy loves me just as much,” her words so filthy make you even wetter than you thought was possible in a single night. 

Ellie whines as her clit receives little sparks of friction, the swollen bud savoring each moment of contact with your cunt. 

“Feels so good, h-holy fuck..” You whine, your hips bucking up into hers in small shudders of movements. The pure sloppiness of your pussies rubbing together causes the room to be filled with the sounds of squelching and strained moans, Ellie’s more breathy and yours more pitched. Her hips quiver against yours as she gets closer and close to cumming, her movements more sloppy as your wetness turns into hers, and hers yours. 

“Please, please, please I’m gonna cum, I’m-” Your own orgasm washes over your body, your back rising to accommodate for the sudden intense pleasure. Soon, Ellie’s cumming with you, not hesitating to swallow up your cries with her lips sealed over yours. You can feel each sloppy hump her cunt gives yours, can feel her whines only attempt to leave her throat. All of it has you drunk off of the feeling, possibly even harder than the last orgasm. Her tongue lazily fucks your mouth as she gives a final few sloppy judders to your clit before her body gives in to the utter exhaustion and she settles on top of you. 

Her body, coated in sweat and her pussy, covered in both of your juices, are completely worn out. Ellie’s head finds sanction in the crook of your neck where her breath tickles your purple-splotched skin. You wrap your arms around her, squeezing her tightly. Her leg brushes up against yours and that’s when you noticeably flinch; right, the scraped knee from earlier. 

Ellie quickly pulls herself off of you to  catch sight of your left knee, slightly red with dried blood and clearly tender.

“I’ll take care of that, just lay here and rest, ‘kay” You nod eagerly, wanting to get rid of the burning sensation as quickly as possible. Ellie quickly pulls on a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants before giving you a quick kiss on the forehead, her eyes taking a final glance to admire your naked body sprawled out on her bed.. all she can seem to feel now is love for you. “Stay here and I’ll be back soon.”

-

Quickly, Ellie returns to you with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a large adhesive band-aid. Her face is rather irritated. You raise your eyebrows. 

“What’s with the look?”

She sighs, muttering out, “Joel..that’s all.”

You can’t help but laugh at that. Fuck, you missed Joel. You missed watching movies with Ellie on his couch and the popcorn he’d microwave for the two of you to share. You can already tell by her face that he was pretty teasing about her scavenging through his cabinets for first-aid items looking like a hot mess. “I missed him,” you mumble quietly.

“Yeah… He missed you, too.” Ellie unscrews the lid on the alcohol and braces herself to do what she has to do.“This is gonna hurt, okay?” You nod, bracing yourself. Soon, the stinging of the alcohol hits your knee. It’s sudden and makes you wince. Seeing that look on your face makes Ellie want to stop and just hold you tightly, protect you from any harm. When the sting finally fades, you let out a soft sigh. She quickly peels the back of the band-aid off and with gentle but calloused fingers sticks the adhesive onto your scrape. She gives you a soft smile. “There. All good, now.”

You don’t hesitate to smile back, but another thought crosses your mind. “Hey, Ellie..?”

“Yeah?” Her voice is heavy with exhaustion and a noticeable, gentle affection.

“I meant it when I said I loved you.” 

Ellie gives you a toothy grin, a familiar one. “And I meant it when I said it, too.”

“But..I still just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me that before, you know?”

Ellie exhales quietly and nods, understanding what you mean. “I was really nervous, okay? I’ve just lost people before,” she leans in closer to you, admiring your eyes which observe her as she speaks, brushing messy strands of hair behind your ear, “I know it’s stupid, but it really is true when you hear people say I can’t handle my feelings well. I get all weird about them and I’m like a social recluse when I have a crush for some reason. As much as I just wanted to be around you, I was scared.” 

Your eyes soften slightly from her words, but curiosity takes over. “Scared of what? I wouldn’t ever hurt you, Els.” 

“It’s more than just getting my heart broken by you.. I mean, I’m scared of losing you physically, too.” She admits quietly. 

Ellie’s fears aren’t irrational. Everyday, people who have lovers, have friends and family are bitten or torn apart in the most gruesome ways possible. That’s always a reason to be cautious to care, but you can’t help but want to disagree with that sentiment. 

“But Ellie, you can’t just be alone with the fear of losing the people you care about,” you argue softly, “if you live your life like that, you’ll never get to have all of anyone. Sometimes, you have to risk losing the person you love so that you can at least have them in every way possible, even if it’s temporary.” 

“I know that, believe me. I’m so damn tired of keeping myself away from you and not fully giving you what you deserve.” Ellie leans down to plant a soft peck to your nose, making you giggle, “you deserve to be loved wholeheartedly and not like how I was doing before..so..” she sighs. “If I asked you to be mine, my girlfriend…would you say yes?” 

Your eyes widen and your heart beats faster. “You really mean that?”

Ellie nods, her cheeks red from earlier activities somehow burning brighter. This time, it’s more from embarrassment and something more childish than previously. 

You giggle and quickly lean up to hug her tightly. “Yes. Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend.” Ellie pulls you further in, squeezing you tightly. “You gotta promise to not hold back on me, though.”

She nods, feeling emotions pull at her chest at the feeling of your embrace, of finally having you in her arms without having to think about leaving you in the morning. “I promise.”

The rhythmatic, quiet sound of Ellie’s clock lulls you to sleep as she holds you in her arms. 

Tick, tick, tick. 

This time, Ellie won’t hold back from you when you wake up.

Taglist: @firefly-ace @kaykeryyy

[quarterlifekitty]

Weaknesses part 10: baby photos

What they love about yours. Warning, this one is a little more characterized than usual, I think— reader is a bit less vague and general.

Gaz is obsessed with your baby fashion. That time you wore a little denim overall dress with a little denim bucket hat…. That’s peak style to him. Your tiny little sweatshirt that had Ernie from Sesame Street taking a bubble bath on it, worn with the tiny plaid shorts, socks with the ruffled edge, teeny tiny white sneakers…. Mfer is taking notes.

Soap is the guy who insists you haven’t changed at all. He sees these photos of you sleeping in your crib with a little part in your lips and he’s like “it’s uncanny, hen… how y’still look just like that when yer sleepin’”. He’s cooing over how you still have that same little cowlick, the same little smile when he lets you have some of his ice cream that you used to get when your parents would do the same.

Ghost feels hopeful when he sees your childhood photos. God knows he doesn’t have any of his own— wonders if any images of him as a baby even exist. When he thinks of having a family with you, he’s terrified because he has no idea what a real family is supposed to be. But your pictures make him think that it won’t be so hard.

Price is using your baby photos in his mental blueprints. He’s wondering if your baby will be born with his eyes or yours, with your nose, with your cheeks… It makes him excited. He already knew that any baby he had with you would be beautiful, but this just feels like more undeniable proof that your baby won’t just be cute, it’ll be perfection. Just like you are.

König is perhaps the most into your baby pictures. Like he’ll keep on in his wallet if you let him. He’s not even really sure why. He finds the images comforting, maybe because he still sees you as being this fragile, soft thing in his arms. And it makes him feel like a part of your family, when you point out all of your relatives, when you tell him what was going on the day the picture was taken, when he sees cake all over your cheeks and nose from your second birthday. He met you rather late in his life for his liking, perhaps. And the photos make him feel like he missed out on less of you.

Nikolai is a special case in that it seems he spends less time looking at your baby photos as he does looking at your adolescent photos. Noticing there are far fewer of them, how you’d put your hands up to block the camera, how you didn’t like to smile, and when you did it was awkward and apologetic. He sees how vivacious you were is a baby, and how little by little it was stripped from you as the anxiety and the self doubt was learned. It gives him a sense of determination. He wants you to feel as carefree as you did in those first few stages of life, with him. This is his reason to be.

[pinkiemachine]

Alright @newtonnote ! This one’s for you!

STORYTIME!! (spoilers)

So, starting off, forming this new team was Tim’s idea. The OG Teen Titans had been drifting apart for a while, Cyborg was a member of the Justice League, and it looked as though the whole “Teen Titans” thing was gonna be shelved indefinitely until Tim came along with the idea for the old crew to form Young Justice instead, and he would reboot the TT.

Now, the first TT was not sanctioned. It was a spontaneous thing that happened more or less behind Batman’s back, but this time around, the Justice League had more of a say in the matter. Hence, all the sidekicks.

At the beginning of the NTT run, the only members are: Tim/Robin (founding member), Spoiler (invited herself), Miss Martian (Martian Manhunter volunteered her), Aqualad II (Aquaman volunteered him), and Wonder Girl II (volunteered by Wonder Woman). All the Justice Leaguers think it’ll be a good bonding and training experience for them, because they’re all a bunch of anti-social/socially awkward beans in their own ways. Tim likes the idea of leading the NTT, but soon realises he just might prefer working alone (if you want something done right, do it yourself) but he’s stuck in this situation now, so there’s not much he can do about it! XD Miss Martian is from Mars and she’s still learning all about every day teenagering, and can get very nervous about fitting in and can’t stand when she messes up. Wonder Girl (who I decided will only be called Olympia AFTER her time as Wonder Girl II) is a homeschooled girly (or, she *was* while her mother was an archeologist) but now she’s being forced out of her comfort zone and having to make friends for her stupid mental health, or whatever Wonder Woman said she had to do… meh… It’s not like she doesn’t want friends, it’s just that it’s so much work to make new ones. Then there’s Aqualad. He’s an interesting case, because no one else can seem to really understand him. He’s quiet, painfully practical, and almost emotionless. He doesn’t really do “chit chat” or “making friends.” He’s simply here following orders from Aquaman, and trying to be a “good soldier.” Steph/Spoiler is the only person keeping them all together.

The team’s first mission is in Atlantis, something super small scale that Aquaman picked out for them—almost laughably easy stuff. But while they’re in the underwater city, they happen to get their fortunes told by a fortune-teller lady. She says that someone in their team will betray them. Dun dun dun.

Not very long after that, the NTT get an alert that there’s a meteor headed straight into the ocean nearby! When they go to investigate, turns out it’s not a meteor, but a space ship. Inside, they find Kon El. He’s taken back to the Hall of Justice for questioning and other such scrutiny, but questions abound. (This happens after the Death of Superman, and Kara and Krypto are in outer space taking care some other stuff, which Batman thinks is suspicious timing.) So, without the only other Kryptonians around to verify this new guy’s legitimacy, they have to rely on his word and a DNA test for the time being. Kon-El claims that he was just one of the few lucky survivors after the end of Krypton, and when he heard that Superman was living on earth, he came as quickly as he could. Imagine his surprise when he was told that Superman was dead.

With nowhere else to go, he was allowed to stay with the NTT, as he adjusted to life on Earth. Kon-El decides to take up the secret identity name of Conner, and he decides that, if he should pass the Justice League’s tests and become a beginer superhero (which he does) then he wants to be called the next Superman. But the name doesn’t stick, and everyone winds up calling him Superboy instead, which irks him. All the while, that little prophecy the team had been told is hanging in the air.

Then—BLAM—the NTT’s first major fiasco happens! BLACK MANTA. He’s come for revenge, and to reclaim… Aqualad… his son? Dun dun dun! The backstabbing, just as it was foretold! And surprisingly, Aqualad goes with him! Now, to cut a long story short, here’s the skinny: When Aqualad (Kaldur) was a little toddler, he was present when Aquaman fought his father Black Manta, driving him away from Atlanits for a while, and accidentally killing his mother in the chaos. Aquaman felt so horrible that he decided to take Kaldur in and raise him at the palace. All the while, though, Kaldur seemed to be growing up a little… strange. Because of the shock he went into, witnessing all of that, his brain chose to react by almost shutting down all emotion. He was sleepwalking through life, too young to make sense of what had happened, and by the time he was old enough to understand, it was such a blur that he could barely remember any details. He accepted Aquaman’s hospitality, he entered the royal guard after a certain point, working his way up to becoming Aqualad, but through it all, the only reason he was doing it was because he was told to. He was told to learn to fight, because he was told he had an aptitude for it. He was told he could become Aqualad, so he accepted. And so on. But he never had any agency in those decisions. Life was happening to him. Around him. Never inside him. So when Black Manta came, telling him to leave the NTT and join him instead, Kaldur accepted.

Eventually, after a long and meaningful journey, the NTTs are able to get through to Kaldur, and essentially “wake him up.” For the first in his life, he was going to choose what he wanted to do, and what he wanted to do was protect his friends and his home from Black Manta. Double-double-cross! So Aqualad comes back to the NTT, Black Manta’s defeated, the prophecy (we presume) has come to pass, and Kaldur is actually a little excited to continue his journey with his new friends.

After that… I haven’t decided whose story is next, so we’ll leave that space blank for the moment, but I know whose story comes third! After the grande finale of (whoever, either Wonder Girl or Miss Martian) their story, there’s suddenly a time travel anomaly! A certain someone with big hair comes tumbling out of the time-stream—and it’s BART! aka IMPULSE!

So the next arc is all about Bart. He’s come back in time to warn the Justice League to prevent a horrible future from happening! One where planet Earth was invaded by an alien race called The Reach. Only problem is, not long after arriving, the Reach themselves travel back in time and try to capture Bart! They grab him, and are about to time travel back to the future, when the rest of the NTT grab onto them and stow away, sending them all beyond the Justice League’s help.

The Reach timeline is a grim existence. They invaded sneakily at first, posing as allies, but over time, they revealed their true colours. They were a nomad society, flying in one massive ship around the galaxy after their home planet was destroyed, going from planet to planet gathering resources. When they got to Earth, they discovered more than just water and minerals and crops… they discovered human beings, and their “Meta Gene.” No other known races in the universe possess this seemingly magic gene that grants superpowers, and once the Reach realised its true potential… they couldn’t just leave well enough alone. They schemed and they lied and they manipulated the human race so easily, they fell within a matter of years, and once they were in control, they started the Meta Human black market, where they would study Meta “Specimens” and/or sell them to other unsavoury alien races.

Where was the Justice League? Why didn’t they do anything? Batman was the first to suspect them, long before things turned bad. However, during his investigation, he was discovered by the Reach, and he was silenced. One by one, they found ways to lure, trick, manipulate, or just plain overpower many heroes, such as Superman and Wonder Woman, but they didn’t just kill them. No, no. Their central hubs were known as Mothercities. Entirely technofitted, entirely run by AI, entirely for the purpose of breading and raising and harvesting humans. The AI at the helm was a super advanced AI named Arcturus. The thing that made him so advanced was that he didn’t rely on normal computers for hardware and processing power. The Reach, as a whole, prefer biotech, and so what Arcturus used instead… was the human mind itself. By harvesting even a few dozen human beings, a massively powerful AI could be sustained, and the more minds you add, the bigger, badder, and faster it gets. Arcturus loooooved Batman and Wonder Woman’s minds, so full of processing power and knowledge about the planet, and the Reach were enthralled with studying Superman’s Kryptonian biology, being a member of an endangered species and all. Soon, they had built the Byway, a massive space station in Earth’s orbit, specifically for the black market’s selling and buying, and through it all, the Green Lanterns were nowhere in sight. Leaving Earth to believe they had been abandoned.

Over time, things just kept getting worse and worse. The superheroes kept on fighting, but with every victory came two losses. Then some of the Reach’s AI programs began going rampant. Some went straight up crazy, bombing as many locations as they could, or blasting themselves into space. Others changed allegences, to other countries or to the Resistance, but the most powerful—Arcturus chief among them—remained loyal to the Reach. All in all, it left Earth a tattered mess. To top it all off, Starfire, Princess of Tamaran, died trying to protect Earth, and the Tamaraneans were so livid… well… They called it “Skyfall.” A mixture of starbolts and space debris sent falling down onto the planet’s surface. Many Reach cities were destroyed… but many bases belonging to the Resistance were also hit.

Countless heroes were either harvested or killed during the years this took place over, but the few who remained made Atlantis their final stronghold. Including The Flash’s son, Don Allen, and his son, Bart Allen. Now, sadly, even though Bart was young, he was tasked with being a member of the American Meta Human Army due to the fact that he had a superpower. This would prove to be a terrible mistake, because during Skyfall, where Bart was present trying to evacuate refugees, he slipped up, and was captured by a Reach Harvester. For an entire year, he was plugged in to Arcturus’ mainframe, and boy did Arcturus love having a mind that could think so fast. He loved it so much that when Don Allen and a rescue team came to break Bart out, he swore that he would do everything in his power to get Bart back.

From that time on, Bart was not required to fight. Instead, he stayed with his father and his father’s cousin, Wally West, who were on the verge of a breakthrough. Time Travel, using the Speedforce. If this worked, they could undo everything. Fix Earth. Save their loved ones. Don and Bart were charged with the task of going back in time and warning the Justice League, but only Bart made it through. Don stayed behind to fend off a surprise attack from a group of Harvesters. Bart alone traveled to the past, where he met the New Teen Titans and the Justice League. But of course, after capturing Don Allen, a fellow speedster, the Reach were eventually able to figure out how to use the Speedforce for time travel as well, and used it to go after Bart.

Back to where we left off in the story:

Everyone was sucked into the Reach Timeline, and the NTT found themselves in a Mothercity, completely outmatched. Miss Martian and Aqualad were harvested almost instantly, Robin and Wonder Girl got caught shortly after that, and the only members who were able to escape into the lower levels of the city were Superboy, Spoiler, and Bart, who might have been able to prevent all of that from happening… if he hadn’t been so afraid. Ever since coming out of Arcturus, he’d been different, and mortally terrified of technology—any kind of technology. Now, though, if they were going to rescue their friends and get back to the present, he would need face his greatest fear one more time.

Now, I’ve thought about this story so much, and written so much down, I could go on for another 40 pages, but I’ll spare you each and every minute detail.

Yes, they rescue their friends eventually. They wind up breaking out of the Mothercity and joining the Resistance back in Atlantis. There’s a big final battle against the Reach and Arcturus—they go up into space and discover that the Green Lanterns hadn’t abandoned them, the Reach had simply been holding planet Earth hostage and forming a blockade, severely limiting what the Green Lanterns could and couldn’t do, and keeping them at arm’s length for years, though they were trying everything they could think of to save Earth. But now, things had changed. Sneaking the Green Lanterns onto the planet, the fight was finally fair, and they were about to beat Arcturus once and for all…

But then he pulled out one last dirty trick. He put his AI consciousness into a chip in Don Allen’s mind, effectively controlling him and using him to go back in time to prevent Bart from ever being rescued in the first place. The NTT chased him down through the timestream, but in the end, they realised that there was only one way to stop him. Only one way to stop a speedster. Bart looked away when it happened.

When they finally returned to the present, Bart was with them (their only means of returning to their time) and he was forced to keep living… but he couldn’t bear to remember everything. So he asked for his memories to be wiped. Thus began his new life with the NTT, as a new Bart Allen. (But those memories weren’t completely gone…)

Then begins Superboy’s arc. In the days following their little “time travel adventure,” Conner had been acting strange. He’d been disappearing a lot too. Eventually, it was discovered that Conner was secretly working with Lex Luthor. When the NTT found out, they were shocked. Conner had been a little wild and a little aggressive, but he was their friend. They told jokes, they stayed up late talking, they saved each other’s lives over and over again, and… now that his secret was out, he wanted them to know that he was sorry… but he couldn’t say no to his father. Lex.

Conner had been made in a lab, using spliced DNA from Superman and Lex Luthor. Superman’s powers + Lex Luthor’s brains. After countless failures, finally Conner was born. He was trained and “programmed” (as Lex called it) to covertly get close to the Justice League, learn their weaknesses, and ultimately be the force that brought them down from the inside. Then, Lex would frame it as though the Justice League had gone rogue, and his invention—his synthetic Heroes for Hire—had saved the day. Not only would HIS version of Superman become famous, he’d also get rich. But Conner… he was a lot more human than Lex ever gave him credit for. Ever since being born, all Conner wanted was some kind of affection from his father, but Lex made it very clear that he was not, and would never be, Conner’s father. Lex was Conner’s creator. His manufacturer. Conner was a product. Property. Nothing more. But secretly, Conner still wanted to impress him and please him, so he went along with his mission eagerly.

While he was away, he learned about Superman, his “other father.” He was crushed when he discovered he was dead, because for a moment he had thought that maybe he would be able to find a father figure in him instead… but it was not to be. Instead, he often found himself sitting alone in front of the Superman memorial statue at the Hall of Justice, talking to it for hours. Filling him in on how his life was going… imagining what it would be like to have a real dad… most of all, he told him about his new friends, and how… he didn’t want to betray them, but he didn’t want to betray Luthor more. He was sure that if he completed his mission, he’d get what he was after.

Flash forward, and the NTT were captured for discovering Conner’s secret, and the plan to take down the Justice League was in place, about to begin, and Conner looked to Luthor, hoping to hear some kind of encouragement, only to be reminded that he was just property. He did as he was told by Luthor, or he would be terminated and replaced by anther clone. But the cherry on top was when Luthor presented something to Connor. A Blue Scarab Beetle. The AI powered supersuit parasite that the Reach use to enslave their mightiest warriors. How did Luthor get his hands on this one? Conner had no idea, but the fact that Luthor wanted to use it on Conner… that was what finally convinced him that Luthor really wasn’t ever going to care about him, let alone love him. Now, thankfully the Scarab didn’t activate when presented to Conner, so that idea was a bust, but Luthor still had control over Conner with a kill-switch he could flip at any moment, so Superboy was forced to continue with the plan, fearing that there was nothing he could do. He really was nothing more than property. He was half of Lex Luthor, a villain, and he was about to do the unthinkable to his friends because of it.

That’s when Superman came back. The full story takes place with the Justice League, but there’s a crossover here. Superman comes back, totally scaring the living daylights out of Lex and foiling his plan, and in the end, he convinces Conner to join the light side by promising to protect him from anything Luthor would try to do to him. He was a good person inside, and he had people he cared about, and wanted to protect. Superman just helped bring out that side of him. When all was said and done, Luthor was defeated, and Conner’s kill-switch was destroyed. He was free to actually live. He was so excited to do all the things he thought he’d never be able to do, and to keep his friends! Most of all, he was excited to learn from his “big brother” Superman (though to himself, he still thought of Supes as a father) and he couldn’t wait to start making up for all the bad stuff he did. He didn’t care what he had to do to make things right—he was just happy he had the chance to! And of course, there was his budding relationship with Miss Martian… two awkward little alien beans…

So those are the most fleshed out stories I’ve got, but beyond that, Tim and Steph are a power couple—he’s the dark, she’s the light, he’s the calm, she’s crazy, and they’re amazing together. Wonder Girl II I’m still thoroughly exploring and learning about her character, and Miss Martian goes through a whole identity crisis as she tries to determine who she wants to be, because she’s spent her whole life trying to please other people, and be the girl they wanted her to be. Conner helps her discover herself on her journey.

I hope that wasn’t too much info… sorry if I buried you a little… but trust me…. this is the condensed version. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!

[f1goat]

roommates ; lando norris + part three

In which you have to live with your brothers best friend who you really don't like, Lando Norris, and his many 'girlfriends' for a while, but there's always a thin line between love and hate.

masterlist - playlist

lando norris x fem!verstappen reader tw: nothing much yet expect that Lando is a player + i don't proofread + smut will come next chapters!

You haven’t done anything useful today. After last night, you really don’t know what to do. Should you talk about this with Lando or let it be? You have no idea. At this moment he isn’t home, you heard him leave pretty early this morning. Maybe he’s ignoring you? It feels like he is. There’s this part of you that understands him ignoring you. What would you do if you moaned out Lando his name and he heard? This has to be pretty awkward for him. 

You still can’t decide if you want to talk about it with Lando or not. It annoys you that you can’t think about anything else then Lando. And the worst part? Every time you think about him moaning out your name, you feel yourself getting flustered. That can’t be good. You can’t feel like this while thinking about Lando. It’ll make things only more confusing. 

Since you have met Lando, you think he’s a very confusing person. It’s mainly because he always seems to be in a different mood when he’s around you. Whenever you see Lando, you don’t know in which mood he will be. Sometimes he’s acting nicely, but other times he’s making you crazy with his teasing and rude remarks, and then you still have the moments when he’s flirting with you. It’s confusing. Lando is confusing. 

Thinking like this makes you remember earlier meetings between Lando and you. With nothing better to do, you let yourself think back about things that happened between the two of you. 

——-

“Lando, meet my sister y/n!” Max introduces you to a nice looking boy who’s standing closely to your brother, “and y/n, meet Lando Norris. He drives for McLaren and is one of my friends.” You take your time to look at Lando. It’s almost unfair how beautiful he is. You try to shake off those thoughts, thinking about your boyfriend instead of the good looking boy in front of you. 

Lando is taking his time with looking at you as well. It isn’t the first time he sees you. Or at least, it’s the first time he sees you in real life and will talk to you. He never told his friend, Max, about the way he stalks your Instagram almost every day and how he thinks you’re one of the most beautiful girls he has ever seen. 

He gives you a hand to introduce himself as well, you show him a small smile. The two of you make a bit of small talk. You slowly start to like Lando, he’s nice. You can understand why Max is friends with him, you hope you can become friends with him. It’s your phone which interrupts your conversation with Max and Lando. When you look at the screen, you notice it’s your boyfriend who’s calling. 

“I’m sorry, I have to take this. It’s my boyfriend,” you apologize before picking up the phone and walking away from Lando and Max. 

“Boyfriend?” Lando asks disappointed when he looks at you walking away. That wasn’t on your Instagram. It’s at that moment that Max starts to suspect that Lando already knew who you were and that he’s interested in getting to know you more.

+++

The following time Lando and you talk to each other, things are less nice. He’s spending time with your brother, playing some game on the playstation. You came home a bit ago, it was a harsh afternoon for you. After doubting for multiple weeks, you decided to break things off with your boyfriend. It wasn’t a nice breakup. Things got messy when your now ex-boyfriend started screaming at you. 

You greet Lando and Max, but you’re quickly interrupted by your phone once again. It’s your ex. He has already send you a couple messages and is now calling you. You’re quick to deny the call. 

“Boyfriend again?” Lando asks you jokingly.

You know that he couldn’t know what happened earlier today, but you can’t help yourself and sneer at him. “Ex,” you sneer. Max wants to ask you a thousand questions, but Lando is the first one who speaks up again. 

“Good.”

That didn’t make your mood better.

+++

Lando and you don’t click. Every time you’re in the same room with him, he seems to act all awkward or weird. Sometimes he teases you, other times he seems to shy to say anything. When you walk inside the living room, you notice him and Max looking at you. 

He can’t look away from you. Fuck, Lando thinks he’s going to lose it. You’re dressed in a tight fitting nude dress. It looks stunning on you. He wants to know where you’re going dressed like this, and even better he would want you to stay right here so no-one else will see you like this. Since you’re single, he’s trying to find a way to ask you on a date but he hasn’t succeeded yet. Sometimes he doesn’t know what to say and acts all shy, while other times he can joke around with you for a bit but can’t come to his point. It’s the worst. 

“Where are you going?” Max asks you before Lando finds his tongue back. 

“I’m going on a date,” you tell Max. 

Lando doesn’t even realize that he’s speaking up what he’s thinking. “Already?” He asks confused, “It’s not even a month since you broke up with your boyfriend.” Fuck, when he realizes that he actually said those words he’s quick to feel ashamed of himself. Before he can apologize to you, you’re already replying. 

“Are you implying something Norris?” You ask him angrily.  Lando tries to deny it, but you’re quick to walk away from your brother and him. When they hear the door slam, Max sends his friend an confused look. 

That day Lando can’t stop thinking about you being on a date with someone. He wants to forget about it, but the alcohol doesn’t do anything. Standing in a club with some friends, his mind is still hang up on you. How would you date go? He was so glad about you being single, but it seems that it will be over soon. 

Later that night, with even more alcohol in his system, Lando dances with a nice looking girl. He drinks until he can’t walk straight anymore and takes the girl home with him. Is it bad that he can’t even remember her name? He can think about one thing only. Even when he’s balls deep into the girl, he can only think about you. Or more specifically, you in the tight nude dress. He’s fucked. 

+++

When he tells Max about the girl and the way he send her home after the sex, he didn’t knew you were listening as well. Before Max can respond, you’re picking an argument with Lando about the way he treated the girl. 

The following hours Lando realizes that he has fucked up things too many times around you. He should forget about you. It’s not like he has any chances left. Since that day Lando fell in some weird pattern of getting drunk whenever he could and fucking some random girls as a distraction from his feelings for you. Not that it helps. Whenever he sees you, he always feels ashamed about himself and his actions. Not that you know everything about it, but still. He doesn’t know how to behave around you. Sometimes he tries flirting with you, other times he tries to keep his distance. The worst times are when he argues with you. 

It’s not like you know about his feelings and why he’s acting like this. For you everything is just confusing and weird. 

——-

Mindlessly you’re swiping on Tinder. Since you’re still not doing much, you decided to swipe a bit on the app. You could use a date, it’s been a while since your last one. Not that you will be successful on Tinder, since everyone is accusing you of being a catfish or is sending dick picks within seconds after the match. You really should find another way to find dates. When you hear a soft knock on your door, you feel confused. Could it be that you didn’t notice Lando coming back home? 

You stand up and open the door. Apparently you really did miss Lando getting back. He’s standing in front of you. It takes you back to the dilemma you’re still having. Confront Lando or not about what happened? 

“Do you want to have dinner together?” Lando asks you. He almost seems nervous, but you guess that you’re imagining that. 

“That’s fine,” you tell Lando, now you think about it - you could eat something. You’re getting kinda hungry. “Should I cook?” You continue to ask. 

“No,” Lando quickly replies, “I’m going to cook.”

“Can you?” You ask surprised. You can lie about it, but your socials are often filled with content about Lando. Lately it has even been worse. TikTok has shown you multiple ‘thirst’ edits about him, which made you feel things you don’t even want to think about. And if it isn’t content like that, there’s also the videos of his streams, interviews and video’s. And those are exactly why you don’t think it’s smart for Lando to cook. 

“I don’t know,” Lando confesses with a soft laugh, “but how hard can it be to make a pasta?”

“I can help you if you want?” You offer. 

“That sounds like a safe thing to do,” Lando jokes.

Together you walk to the kitchen with Lando. He proudly shows you everything he has bought from the grocery story. Confused you look at all the stuff. You can’t even guess which pasta you’re about to make. There are so much groceries. He even has multiple sorts of pasta laying on the counter. 

“How many people are eating here?” You ask Lando confused. 

“Just us,” Lando informs you. 

“So, you bough four different pasta shapes, every vegetable that there is and three kinds of grated cheese for just the two of us?” You continue to ask.

“I didn’t know which one you liked,” Lando confesses.

“You could have called?” You laugh. 

Lando doesn’t respond anymore. He makes you chose which pasta you want to make with him. After choosing you ask Lando to chop up some onions. Something he clearly struggles with. you’re trying to hold back your laugh, but when Lando almost cuts in his own finger, you let out a loud laugh. Lando is quick to join you. Together you continue cooking. This time you don’t ask Lando to do anything else. Meaning he’s just looking at you while you’re cooking. Lando can’t stop staring at you. He can’t hold back his feelings when he looks at you finding your own way in his apartment. How nice would it be if you were always here? If this would be your home as well? 

When the two of you are eating together a bit later, Lando is showering you in compliments about the pasta. Eventually he even lets out a soft moan while taking a bite of the food. It reminds you of last night. Only thinking about the way Lando moaned your name, makes you feel all kind of things. Fuck. That can’t be good. Lando also thinks about last night, he still feels ashamed about what happened. He wants to apologize for what happened, but he can’t find the right words.

“So, are you already getting used to the apartment?” Lando asks you eventually. It’s not the subject he wanted to speak up about, but maybe he can talk about this first with you? It would be nice to have a normal conversation with you. 

“Kinda,” you answer honestly, “It doesn’t feel like home, but it’s not bad.” Lando nods understandingly in the mean time. “A good night sleep will probably be nice as well,” you add jokingly. 

“Yeah, about that,” Lando starts unsure, “I’m sorry about the last two nights.”

“It’s still your home Lando,” you tell him, “It’s already nice of you that I can stay here, you don’t have to change everything for me.”

“Still,” Lando sighs, “I’ll try to better it, okay?”

“That sounds nice,” you softly say. 

Lando shows you a small smile. “And I want you to feel more at home here,” he continues to tell you, “Does it already feels a bit like home for you?” 

“Not yet,” you confess, “I miss the way my own room looks and the decor stuff and things.”

“You know you can decorate it here as well, right? I really don’t mind if you change some things around the place,” Lando tells you.

“You wouldn’t mind?” You ask surprised.

“No babygirl,” Lando is quick to reply, “I wouldn’t even care if you painted the whole living room pink if that would make you feel more at home.”

At that moment you didn’t really think about what Lando said, but later his words would repeat themselves in your head. Does he really care that much about you feeling at home here?

+++

“Lando?” 

He doesn’t hear you. There isn’t any response coming from the other side of the door. You don’t know what is happening in Lando his room. You only know that he’s alone and that you heard him scream. What’s going on? You knock loudly on his door, but there’s still no response. When you call out his name again, it doesn’t change. You do however hear him yell again. It’s loud and almost feels painful. 

You decide to open the door and to get inside. What if Lando is hurt? When you open the door, Lando is laying in his bed. He doesn’t move up. It seems like he’s asleep. His breathing is loud and fast, maybe even too fast? You wonder if he’s having a nightmare, that would explain the screaming from before. 

Slowly you move yourself closer to Lando his bed. Should you awake him? When you hear him softly whimpering, you decide to awake Lando. You walk until you’re next to his bed, softly you grab his shoulders and start to shake him.

“Lando,” you say a couple times.

Then he’s finally awake. 

“Y/N?”

Lando gives you a confused look. He has no idea what’s going on. Why are you standing in front of him? How did you even get her? Minutes before you were yelling to him, right? The realization hits him that none of that really happened. He just had a bad dream. Maybe you heard him and came to check? 

“Hey,” you softly say, “are you okay?”

“I guess,” Lando mutters, “Did I keep you awake again?” 

“It’s no problem,” you quickly reply, “it sounded like you had a bad dream.”

“Kinda,” Lando confesses. He thinks back about his dream. Even his bad dreams are about you. That’s pathetic. You were screaming and yelling at him, he tries to remember why. Then he remembers the context of his dream. What started like a nice dream in which he was dating you, ended with him disappointing you and having a fight with you. 

“Want to talk about it?” You ask Lando.

“It’s not like you care,” Lando replies without thinking about his words. When he looks at you and notices the hurt expression on your face, he can slap himself out of frustration. Why does he always do this? “Fuck. I didn’t mean it like that,” he quickly apologizes, “Sorry babygirl.”

You try to ignore his earlier words. “Maybe we can watch something together? Take your mind of the nightmare,” you suggest. 

Lando feels himself getting excited. “That sounds great,” he tells you happily, “Do you want to go to the living room or?”

“Or?”

“I have a tv here as well,” Lando tells you while pointing at the television on the wall behind you. “So we can also watch here in my bed,” he explains. 

“What do you want?” You ask Lando. The idea of getting in the same bed with him scares you, but also seems nice. Lando is rather quickly with his answer. He moves himself more to the side of his bed and makes room for you. Without any words you get yourself on his bed. 

Together you search a video on YouTube to watch. You try to get comfortable in Lando his bed, but you can’t seem to find your comfort. Lando watches you. He tries to figure out a way to get you in his arms, but he doesn’t know what to say. Maybe he’s still distracted by the thought that you came here to figure out if he was okay. That must mean something right? Not something big, but at least you don’t hate him? 

“Come here princess,” Lando eventually says with a soft voice. He lifts his arm up. Hopefully you understand what he means. You doubt for a few seconds, but the need for a comfortable spot is high and Lando looks pretty comfortable. So you move yourself closer towards Lando and search for a position in his arms. When your head is laying on his chest, Lando drapes his arm around your body. Softly he plays with your hair.

“Thank you for coming here to check on me,” Lando tells you. You show him a small smile, “Of course Lan.”

“Lan?” He asks you confused. Since when do you have a nickname for him? 

“Is it bad?”

“No,” Lando quickly says, “please keep calling me that.”

The two of you focus on the YouTube video again. When it’s over Lando wants to ask you what you want to see next, but when he looks at you he discovers that you’re already sleeping. There’s a smile growing on his face. Fuck, you look cute like this. And even better, you’re in his arms. Lando puts the television off. Then he’s quick to join you and falls asleep. He wonders what tomorrow will bring, but after today he finally has the idea that he grow a bit closer towards you. Now he needs to make sure he doesn’t fuck it up again. 

part four

a/n ; bit of a background story, next chapters will have more tension :)

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[mrsdarkandyandere7]

❤ Yandere Step-Brother ❤

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female reader

WARNINGS: Stepcest; Creepy/Obsession; Mild Manipulation.

--

◾ Yandere! Step-Brother who makes you feel unsafe in your own house. The same place that used to be a beacon of comfort and protection now turned into a den of insecurity and fear.

Each moment that you spend in your own house makes you feel trapped, stress and caution pinning at your mind.

Ever since he and his dad moved into your house, it feels less like a house. 

◾ Yandere! Step-Brother who always wears an ignorant, indifferent facade as if he isn’t bothered by you.

But the thing is… you know he likes to stare at you.  

It’s somewhat obvious - maybe because you’re on the receiving end - but the fixed way he looks at you is downright terrifying, as if he’s planning to eat you alive.

◾ Yandere! Step-Brother who is not nearly as discreet as he believes himself to be - or does he even care about hiding his weird fixation with you.

You’re highly aware of his shadow looming as he peaks through the bathroom door when you shower. The key going missing exactly at the day you’re going to shower is a doubtful coincidence and you can’t avoid feeling so damn exposed in the transparent glass-box, shame and dread having you tear up a few times. 

◾ Yandere! Step-Brother whose stare feels utterly creepy on the rare occasions you dare to wear shorts or skirts. His unabashed staring has you regretting the clothes when you notice his eyes sizing you up, trailing after the exposed flesh.

Despite your anxiety and discomfort, you refuse to confess your step-brother’s creepiness to your mom.

The thought of being the reason your mom becomes unhappy kills you inside, so you opt to endure whatever awkward interactions you’ll have to deal with, refusing to say a single word about it to your mom.

◾ Yandere! Step-Brother whose presence alone is enough to make you weary and claustrophobic. To be in the same division as him is something you go out of your way to avoid, knowing that nothing good comes out of it.

The reason?

He always finds some shabby excuse to feel you up. It’s either his hand pressing against your chest as he reaches for the TV remote or maybe it’s his crotch rubbing grossly on your ass/back (depending on your height) as he pretends to reach for something.

◾ Yandere! Step-Brother who is muscular and intimidating enough to keep boys away from you. He owns this fairly frightening glare that warns people not to defy him, his tall muscled figure imposing over other people.

And if you think that it’ll all get better when you leave for college, you may rethink that plan of yours cause he’s going to apply for the exact same colleges. 

◾ Yandere! Step-Brother who’s given you plenty of heart-attacks in the middle of the night as he tries to invade the privacy of your room. The fear that clings to you as the door handle shakes and twists is unbelievable, before he finally relents and leaves you be.

Although that doesn’t stop you from shaking for the rest of night, only able to slightly doze off before waking up in high alert, because you’re paranoid about him getting in.

◾ Yandere! Step-Brother who gets bolder with time.

Leaving you cum-dripping panties he stole from you on your bed.

Stealing your phone in return for a few touches.

Wrestling you into letting him dry-hump you. 

He won’t stop. Not until he gets you. 

-> A little goodie: Drabble (Noncon)

[poetlus]

KATSUKI BAKUGO , HANTA SERO & TAMAKI AMAJIKI HCS

how these three (separate!) react to a reader who is shy at first, but warms up to them when they get to know the characters! requested by my baby @sepptember !! not proofread !!

BAKUGO KATSUKI . . .

he doesn’t care for you at first. to be fair, he doesn’t care for anybody. thinks you’re an extra who’s just getting in his way.

you were quiet & reserved, so he picked on you a little bit. he called you “mouse” because of how quiet and “weak” you were.

his words…not mine

“why don’t you speak, huh?! is there something wrong with you?!”

“hey, man,” kirishima would say, “lay off. it’s no big deal. maybe they just need to warm up to everybody!”

as the year goes on and everybody begins to warm up to each other, he realizes that you’re not just some extra. you genuinely are super nice & kind of bubbly.

not that he would admit it, but he didn’t mind you. you had a pretty powerful quirk and some good potential.

the more you opened up, the less he picked on you. in all honesty, you and kirishima were the people he hated the least in the class.

there was no way in hell he was letting up on the nickname though.

SERO HANTA . . .

i imagine him trying to talk to you on the first few days of school and not getting much of a response.

“you’re not much of a talker, huh?” he would ask you, and then you would get embarrassed.

i think he’d keep his distance from you for a bit, since he’s into more social people.

after you start getting used to everyone though, he would definitely shoot his shot and start talking to you again.

he would also feel horrible about your guys’ first interaction.

“i’m sorry about kinda sorta ignoring you. i’m just awkward around quiet people, y’know? but you’re not quiet anymore! i should’ve known you just needed to come outta your shell.”

after that, you guys ended up actually being pretty close. it was surprising for most students.

when you meet new people and you’re with him, he always gives the other person advice.

“don’t worry, they were like this when i first met them, too. it’ll wear off.”

TAMAKI AMAJIKI . . .

Fatgum introduced you two when he started looking at people for work studies.

He knew you guys would make a good pair because both of your teachers gave him a warning:

“They’re pretty quiet when you first meet them. They have a lot of potential though! I know you’ll get through to them.” Is what your teacher said. Tamaki’s said basically the same thing.

Fatgum has always wanted to bring people up and help them, so he thought, why not help these two at once?

When you first met Tamaki, you could tell he was way more timid than you were.

“Uhm…hi— I’m Tamaki… Amajiki. I— uh…” He stuttered. He then faced the wall and squeezed his eyes closed. “I can’t do this…I want…to go home.”

“Alright then…” Fatgum sighed. “What about you, Y/N? Introduce yourself to the guy!” You did better than Tamaki, albeit, but you were still extremely shy.

As Fatgum worked more with the two of you, you began to feel less intimidated by both him and Tamaki. You started opening up first, but Tamaki slowly followed after.

When Fat sent you on patrols together, Tamaki seemed more energetic and himself. That quickly ended when he noticed the other citizens around him, though.

I hope everyone liked this!!! I’m still trying to get a feel for Tamaki, so I’m sorry if he’s ooc. I love him though. My cutie pie. Remember!! Reblogs > Likes

[gay-dorito-dust]

May I ask for the batboys reaction to their BFF that they have a crush on saying “EWW, gross, he’s like my brother”, in response to someone saying that they’d make a cute couple?

Welp confession is off the table if that’s how you see them ngl.

Dick tries to take it in stride but is hiding the fact that he’s having to come to terms that his best friend and his crush only sees him as a brother figure. Yikes. That’s worse than being friend zoned, you might as well have stabbed him and it would’ve hurt a lot less than being considered a brother.

Dick will act like he isn’t affected but if you were to squint you can see that his smile wasn’t genuine and his eyes didn’t twinkle like they normally did, but even if you were to call him out on it he’ll only laugh and discard your concerns with a vague answer.

He hated hiding this from you but he knew there was no way he could ever confess, no way in fucking he’ll could he confess when you’ve made your stance clear as day, even if he wishes it was a bad joke or a dream that he’ll inevitably wake up from. He’ll think that he’s accepted his fate but every time he looks at you smiling or leaning against his side, he’ll be reminded that he was just lying to himself, much like he’s been lying to you about feeling absolutely nothing romantic towards you.

He’ll live his life living a lie if it means that you’ll never know how he truly feels, even if it hurts or until he finds someone else to love, knowing deep down he’ll never love another as deeply as he did you.

Jason felt as though he had died. Again.

He’s unsettlingly silent after the whole thing and would answer you in short or dry responses so often they you just decided that talking wasn’t what he wanted to do right now. He was processing the fact that there will most likely not be a reality where you two end up together if this is how you saw him in each one.

He will most probably put some distance between the two of you as a result of this, so don’t be surprised when you hear nothing from Jason for weeks on end. He’s just trying to figure out what to do now because he was planning to confess, but you saying he’s nothing more to you than a brother kinda made that plan backfire in his face.

Jason knows that feelings aren’t easily discarded as much as he would love them to be but he couldn’t force you to feel the same as him and so he’ll have to accept that you were still in his life, even if it’s not going to be his partner. After all he just wanted you to be happy even if that happiness may not lie with him.

Tim quickly throws away any and all plans of confessing to you early quick because if you only see him as a brother figure, then he’ll see that confessing will only make things weirder between the two of you.

He’s trying to think how your friendship can continue when there was a one sided infatuation on his end because as far as he was aware they tended to end badly and extremely messy. He didn’t want that to become of you two and thus he’ll probably chuckle awkwardly along with you, waving off the ladies suspicions of you two ever being a couple, even though it hurt his heart to do so.

It’ll be obvious that he’s hiding something from you but you weren’t going to say anything until he did, which mean even more pain shooting through poor Tim as he tries his hardest to act as though he’s not got a crush on you. However this tends to make him come across as stiff, awkward and a bit cold at times, and or he’ll bury himself into his vigilante work to the point where he doesn’t allow himself free time with you anymore.

That was the last time he’ll ever trust a stupid romance movie where the friends get together ever again.

Damian kinda saw this coming from the moment your whole body poetically recoiled at the thought of being with him romantically.

So needless to say that while expected that kind of response from you, it still hurt him nonetheless to know that his affections were reciprocated even in the slightest. Damian didn’t think he would ever allow his feelings to become out of his control but here he was, crushing on someone who’ll never see him in the same light assumably.

He hates it and despises it greatly but realises there’s nothing much he could do but accept your words as truth and not cross any boundaries. So don’t be surprised that Damian gets cold with you, well more cold than usual, he’s just nursing a broken heart and being in the presence of the person who had inadvertently broke it wasn’t his ideal day out.

[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

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 4- The Chase

Summary: You can only keep running from Frankie Morales for so long. At some point, he'll catch up to you, whether you like it, or not.

Word Count: 3.5K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname)

Warnings: Do I spy a hint of... ✨feelings✨??? Yearning, a hint of teenage violence (Santi deserves it, it's okay), the appearance of the Miller Brothers, Frankie basically looking like this 🥺 for the last half of this chapter, banter because I live for it

A/N: I'm convinced that teenage Frankie and the Frontier Boys are the best characters to write for, period 😭 I never thought I would live to see the day where my chapters are less than 5K (?!?) but I'm really trying to be better about posting on a schedule- If you would rather have them be longer and wait two weeks between chapters instead of once a week, let ya girl know 🤷🏼‍♀️ Thank you for all of your kind words about this story, your kind comments literally fuel me and make my heart explode, ily 🥹💛

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Frankie, Fall of 2005, Age 16

For as much as he hates school, there will be two classes Frankie knows he’ll always pass with flying colors- Gym and Math. 

When he and Santi went to pick up their 11th grade class schedules before the start of the school year, you would have thought they’d won the lottery when they looked down on the crinkled half sheets of paper to find they were both in the same 6th period gym class. 

Five weeks into the start of Junior year, Frankie’s now convinced that Santi and his new friends, Will and Benny Miller, are in on some sort of scheme to make him fail the one class he’s guaranteed an “A” in. 

“Jesus Christ, Frankie, for the love of God, will you please slow down?!” 

Santi’s all but huffing at the pace Frankie had set for the four of them to run the two miles they’re supposed to finish by the end of class, only three of the eight laps they need to run around the track completed. 

“We’re not even going that fast, Santi, you’re fine.” 

Frankie can’t help but laugh at the way his friend is laboring behind him. Sure, Santi’s got football to thank for keeping him looking less like a gangly string bean than Frankie does, but even at 16, the boyish satisfaction of knowing he’ll always be faster than his friend is undeniable.

“Do you do like, cross country or somethin’, Frankie?” 

“Yeah man, I thought Santi said you swam not ran.” 

The Miller Brothers were a new addition to his and Santi’s long standing friendship duo. Will and Benny moved from North Carolina over the summer and had befriended Santi after a few weeks of preseason football camp that the high school held before the start of the school year. Of course, that meant Frankie became friends by proxy shortly after. 

Frankie was fond enough of the two, but the group was still stuck in the awkward dating phase of friendship where everything was just enough of a pissing match to prove that they were worthy enough of each other’s company. 

“Yeah, I’m on the swim team, I don’t do cross country or anything like that.” Frankie shrugs, rounding the curve of the track with ease as he leads the pack to their halfway point. 

“Then how the hell did you get so fast?” Benny pants, the straw blonde hair matted to his forehead with sweat scrunching as he pinches his brows in a mixture of confusion and unadmitted pain. 

“‘Cause he likes to go running with MacKenzie.” 

Santi’s lips curl to a devious smile as he watches Frankie’s face grow red from his sing-songy taunting. At least with the Millers, Frankie could pretend to chalk the hot, pink sting in his cheeks to the mile he’s been running. Unfortunately, he can’t assume the same with Santi. 

“Shut up, Santi.” Frankie grumbles, picking up his pace to the point he knows it’ll make Santi’s lungs strain just enough to keep him from rambling. 

“Oh shit, like, MacKenzie Anderson, MacKenzie?” Will’s face lights up, his less than lengthy friendship making him blissfully unaware of the history between you and Frankie, “She’s hot.” 

“Ew, n- no, she’s not. That’s weird.” 

The other three are surprised Frankie’s pants have yet to set on fire after such a bold lie. 

“They go run together every weekend.” 

At this point, it’s pure mockery the way Santi is teasing him, pushing Frankie to his limits to see how much he can get away with before his friend breaks. 

“So like, are you guys, dating or something?” 

“What?! No! No- She’s like, my best friend. I just- She plays soccer, so I go run with her to help her train and stuff. It’s good cardio, anyways.” 

Frankie doesn’t mean to snap at Benny for his question. It’s a secondary response to the way his chest is tightening and heart is racing as the eyes of all his friends stay peeled to him, like a guilty suspect in a courtroom everyone is waiting to catch in the midst of their lie. 

“Running’s not the only kind of cardio he wishes he was doing with MacKenzie, huh Frankie?” 

The boys are too busy snickering at each other to realize that Frankie’s completely stopped in his tracks ahead of them, turning around with arms outstretched to greet Santi with a brute shove to the ground as they collide. 

“I said shut UP, Santi!”

Frankie doesn’t intend for it to draw as much attention as it does, how the way he’s practically screaming at his friend he’s pushed to the ground has garnered the attention of everyone else in his gym class.

“Jesus, Frankie, it was just a joke! Chill out!” 

Will and Benny help Santi off the rubber of the track, leaving him and Frankie in a silent stare down of flared nostrils and gritted teeth, bodies boiling with teenage testosterone. 

Despite his rage, Frankie has enough self control to keep from saying (or doing) anything else he’ll regret, forcing himself to take off running in a frustrated huff of silence, heart in his throat and fists clenched, leaving behind his group of friends.  

“Shit. Is he always like that when you talk about her?” Will asks, still slightly stunned by the altercation he’s just witnessed, considering Frankie’s usual calm and quiet demeanor. 

“Yup.” Santi replies, popping the “p” at the end of his answer, “Well, not always this bad, but still,  ya know?”  

“Why?” Benny chimes in, the three of them slowly beginning their trot back around the track, lengths behind their fuming friend. 

“‘Cause they’re like, secretly in love with each other. They say they’re just friends, but they act like they’re fucking married.” Santi pretends to gag as he forces his eyes to roll as far back in his head as they possibly can. “He’s been extra pissy because yesterday he found out this guy, Nick Walsh, who’s some senior on the boy’s soccer team, tried to ask her to Homecoming.” 

“Did she say yes?” 

“No! That’s the thing! I don’t know why he’s got his fucking granny panties in a knot about it. Whatever, man. Not my problem.” 

The Miller brothers exchange intrigued glances, wondering how much more they can pry out of Santi as they mope around the track, hoping they can at least make the second half of their two miles entertaining. 

“If he’s mad about it, why didn’t he just ask her?” Will shrugs, offering up what seems like a reasonable solution to his new friend’s problem. 

“Ask him, dude. I have no fucking clue. They’re going with the same group of friends, so they’re gonna spend the whole night together, anyways. Honestly, if you want my opinion, I think he knows he doesn’t have the balls to nut up and ask her himself ‘cause he’s worried she’s gonna say no.” 

Despite the 23 other kids in the class who are also being forced to run circles around the track, there’s only one who makes the three of them freeze as he passes by, feeling the hole he’s burning through the back of their heads. Santi knows he’s too loudmouthed for his own good, and that there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that Frankie didn’t make out what he had to say as he snuck up behind him. 

And he's right. Frankie hears every word.

If he wasn’t at school, he wouldn’t think twice about punching Santi so hard in the gut it would knock the wind right out of him. But right now, all he can do is keep running, faster and faster, one foot in front of the other. 

Maybe if he runs fast enough, no one will be able to see the tears welling in the corners of his eyes, or the disappointment that’s drained every ounce of color he’s got left in his face. 

Maybe if he runs fast enough, he can outrun the cold, hard truth of the way Santi’s words ring in his ears and put bricks in his chest. 

Maybe, just maybe, if he runs fast enough, somewhere along the worn high school track he’ll find the courage to prove himself wrong. 

You, Present 

You’re convinced he’s following you. He has to be. 

All you wanted to do this morning was to go for a run to clear your head, to blow off some steam after the shit show that had been yesterday’s first interaction with Frankie in the past three years. You were confined to your room for the better half of the day, your dad keeping Frankie hostage in your home far too long for your liking. 

Unfortunately, it’s hard to deny a dying man whatever he wants, even if it’s Frankie Morales’s unwelcome presence in your living room. It also meant having to listen to your dad ramble about Frankie for the next several hours after he’d left, politely nodding at all the compliments and praise your father had to give him while your blood boiled in silence. 

Now, all you wanted to do was to run until your head was free of Frankie for just a little while.

It seemed like Frankie had other plans. 

You gave him the benefit of the doubt the first quarter mile, hell, you even tried to just play it off as unlucky timing at the half mile point. But now, you’re a mile into your run, turning on to Fuller Street with Frankie still trotting behind you. It’s clearly not an accident he’s chosen the same path for his morning jog. 

“There are other ways you can go run, you know.” You shout at Frankie without even turning your head over your shoulder, thinking that maybe he’s assumed you hadn’t noticed him and your not so subtle suggestion will get him to turn around. 

“It’s a free country. I can run where I want.” 

Part of you wishes you would have turned to look back at him so he could see the way your eyes met the back of your skull from rolling them so hard, but you keep your gaze glued to the pavement in front of you. You won’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his presence.  

“Can you please just go run somewhere else? I’m just trying to enjoy my morning and you’re not helping, Frankie.” 

“Not trying to bother you, just trying to run. I didn’t have anything to say until you started talking to me.” 

You know if you turned around right now, he’d have that stupid little smug grin hiding in the corner of his cheeks. A battle of wits is his favorite game to play. He’s learned how to strategize, to stay calm, cool and collected in the midst of your chaos, waiting until you hit the breaking point of his crazy you can’t bear to tolerate anymore. Your jaw tenses with the long exhale you take as you prepare to go head to head. 

“I wouldn’t have said anything if you hadn’t been following me the past mile.” 

“How do you know I’m following you?” 

“You’ve literally been running ten feet behind me for the past twelve minutes.” 

“Who says I wasn’t planning on running this way to begin with but you just got a head start?” 

“Jesus Christ, Frankie, please just go pick a different way to run.” 

“Who put you in charge of the running police? Do I have to sign a permit before I go jog now?” 

“Go. Run. Somewhere. Else.” 

“No. You don’t get to tell me where to run. This is the way I wanna go, so I’m gonna keep going until-” 

“No! I know you don’t want to go this way!” You’ve accepted defeat, swinging around to storm towards Frankie, stopping dead in his tracks as he realizes the ferocity you’re approaching him with, “I know for a fact you don’t wanna run this way. You know how I know? Because you hate running down Fuller Street. You would run five miles out of your way before you even considered running down this street on your own free will. There hasn’t been a single time we’ve ever run down this street where you haven’t complained the entire way because of how much you hate the hill at the end of the road before we turn onto Wilson way! That’s how I know, Frankie! So stop pretending like you just happened to choose the same way as me by accident, and just leave me alone! Ugh!” 

You’re positive there’s a trail of steam streaming behind you with the way you’re absolutely fuming, turning back around to take off as fast as your body will let you. You can’t bring yourself to look anywhere but straight ahead, too afraid that if you turn around, those stupid, sad brown eyes will make you feel guilty enough to give him the last word he doesn’t deserve. 

Your feet are flying so fast across the pavement, you’re convinced he’s given up, shocked into submission by your anger that he’ll at least let you finish the rest of your run in peace. Your eyes are still locked on the horizon ahead. It’s the arrogance of your self-reassurance that doesn’t even let you contemplate the thought that several yards behind you, Frankie lets out a quiet “fuck me” before letting his hands drop from their place on his hips to chase behind you at full speed. 

“What the fuck are you doing!?” 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” 

It’s a stupid question. It’s obvious Frankie has said a prayer to hope his knees don’t give out on him as he runs as fast as possible to try and catch up to you. The rhythmic thump of his sneakers pounding against the concrete catches your attention enough to see how quickly he’s gaining on you. It only makes you run faster. 

“Jesus- fuck this hill- MacKenzie, will you fucking slow down?” 

You won’t admit you’re probably just as exhausted as Frankie from the way you’ve been sprinting up the steep incline at the end of the road, but his exasperated huffs are enough to keep you pushing through the pain, mental and physical. 

“No. Run faster.” 

You’re hopeful it’s early enough that no one is awake to see the comedic game of cat and mouse you and Frankie are playing in the middle of the road, chasing each other like you’re on the playground in a childish round of tag. You’d never admit to his face that you know he’s stronger, even faster than you, but the grip he settles around your arm as he finally catches up to you lets you know you’ve lost. 

“Let go of me, Frankie!” 

If the street wasn’t already awake from your wild game of chase, your scream certainly would have gotten their attention. 

“Jesus Christ, MacKenzie, will you just let me talk to you for two fucking seconds?! Please, just- fuck- please just let me fucking talk to you, okay? Please.” 

Even if you wanted to keep running, there was no use. Truth be told, it wasn’t the grasp he had around your arm that was the thing keeping you from sprinting off into the distance. What had you frozen in place was that pathetic pout you knew was splayed across his face, burning a hole in the back of your head. What’s worse, was that you could feel it burning a hole through your chest, too. 

The all too familiar pain that came with holding onto the same, shriveled shred of hope that maybe this time, he’d prove you wrong. Maybe this time, he wouldn’t let you down. 

“Fine.” You barely mutter the word loud enough to hear as you turn around to face him, eyes still looking everywhere but directly at him. 

“I’m sorry, Kenz. I'm sorry, okay? I fucked up.” 

Somehow, his second apology stings worse than the first. It still doesn’t mean you won’t deny how much it hurts. 

“Yeah, no shit.” 

You let your gaze lift just enough to see the way he’s gnawing at his bottom lip, chewing at it like he’s trying to digest his own thoughts before they come out of his mouth. 

“What I said that night at Santi’s wedding, I just-” He pauses, knowing you can hear it clear as day in your head too.

“Fuck you, MacKenzie. Fuck you for ruining my life. It’ll be better off without you fucking in it.” 

“I- I- Fuck. I didn’t mean it. Any of it. I regret ever saying it. I think all the time about how much I regret it. I just, I was in a bad place.” 

You’re not sure what to say. Fuck, you’re not even sure what to feel. Part of you wants to scream at him, kick him in the crotch and berate him for how badly the past three years have hurt you. Part of you just wants to stand there and cry, to say nothing and let your tears flow and spill your emotions down your cheeks. Part of you wants to hug him, to believe him, to have him hold you so tightly against his chest that his apology seeps into your skin until you’ve forgiven him. 

But none of those parts are strong enough to win out alone. Instead, they’ve formed together to create a strange sort of storm that brews in your belly, swirling it so violently, it makes you want to vomit. 

“But you still said it, Frankie. You still said it. If my dad weren’t dying, would you even be here? Would you have ever apologized? Or are you just choosing to apologize now because it’s convenient and you feel like you have to?” 

It’s the first time you can bring yourself to look him in the face. You can see how his brain is churning with the same type of vicious waves that are in the pit of your stomach, drowning out the brown of his eyes. You both are lost in the midst of the storm, but you’ve got a lifeboat. He’s sinking below the thrashing tides, looking for you to let him board your ship. You won’t let him on unless he fights his way through the current to get to you. 

“I should have apologized a long time ago.” 

“Then why didn’t you?” 

“I don’t- I don’t know. I was scared you’d never forgive me.” 

You swear you feel the grip he still has on your forearm tighten just for a moment. Now that he has you, he’s too scared to let you go. 

“Just- Jesus- Just because you apologized doesn’t mean I have to forgive you now, Frankie.” 

“Will you ever?” 

“Ever, what?” 

“Forgive me?” 

Your brain wants to say no. God, with everything in you does it want to say no. But that same stupid pain in your chest that lives and dies by that stupid shred of hope you’ll always hold onto just won’t let you. 

“I don’t know. I- I don’t know, Frankie.” 

You can’t ignore the way he’s still holding your arm. The shred of hope doesn’t want him to let go, even when you scowl at the way his fingers wrap around your skin. You scowl because of how his touch burns your skin, the way it ignites a fire in your gut from how tenderly he touches you. It makes you scrunch your face in frustration and confusion, trying to block out all the times he’s touched you like this before, fingers grazing against your skin in a desperate plea for affection, not forgiveness. He’s holding onto your arm to see if you’ll let him in the lifeboat- if you’ll offer him a chance to save himself. 

“I get it. I’m sorry, Kenz. I hope you at least know I mean it.” 

“I do.” 

You’re not sure what makes you want to offer him a last chance at survival. You’ve been separated by different sides of the same storm for so long- You can’t attest to the way he’s had to fight through it to stay alive, but if it’s anything like the side of the squall you’ve been stuck on, there’s a strange relief in finding in finding someone who knows the hell you’ve faced to keep from drowning in the undertow. You can’t seem to bear letting him drown right in front of you without even trying to help. 

“I still hate you, ya know.” You sigh, a defiant cry to prove to him you’re not happy about the path you’ve chosen. 

“Yeah, that’s fair. I deserve that.” 

It’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh in so long. Even though it’s a muffled huff, trying to hide behind the raise of his eyebrows and nod of his head at the ground, you know it’s there, in that same corner of his smirk he gets when he knows there’s no point in arguing with you- there’s no denying it’s there. 

There’s no denying it makes you do the same. 

“You gonna let me finish the rest of my run in peace, Morales?” 

“Yeah, I guess. Only ‘cause I still hate this fucking hill.” 

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

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[rulerofstars]

they both (have feelings) reached for the gun

oneshot: chase has always known how to push your buttons back in med school, he loved to get under your skin. but now, working together at princeton-plainsboro, things got a bit. . . different. the rivalry cools, and something warmer takes its place. based on the song we both reached for the gun.

pairing: robert chase x reader

tags: slowburn, enemies to lovers trope, fluff (?)

You were used to coming out on top in med school. For as long as you could remember, your academic achievements defined you, and nobody threatened that more than Robert Chase. He was just as competitive, sharp, and ambitious—always one step ahead or right beside you, depending on the day. But unlike you, Chase seemed to coast on some innate charm, always managing to make his successes seem effortless.

It irritated you to no end.

“Another perfect score, huh?” Chase’s playful voice pulled you from your thoughts as he slid his exam sheet onto the desk next to yours. He flashed that casual, smug grin that you had come to know all too well.

You clenched your jaw. “Looks like it,” you said, glancing at his score. Of course, he had aced it too. “Though, I wouldn’t call it ‘perfect’ just yet.”

“You always have to find a flaw, don’t you?” Chase leaned back in his chair, his Australian accent making his words sound more laid-back than they deserved. “Not everything’s a competition.”

“Only with you,” you shot back before collecting your things and leaving the lecture hall.

You didn’t expect to see him again years later. After graduation, you went your separate ways, and frankly, you were glad to leave him in the past. But fate had other plans.

The first day at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital was already nerve-wracking, and when you saw Robert Chase’s familiar figure walking down the hall, your stomach did a flip. He looked older, sharper even, with his blond hair slightly disheveled in a way that made him look more approachable, yet just as infuriating. His eyes landed on you, a flash of surprise crossing his face before it softened into something more unreadable.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered under your breath.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Chase said, stopping in front of you with a small smirk.

“I could say the same,” you replied, trying to keep your cool. You were not going to let him fluster you. Not now.

For a moment, there was an awkward silence. You shifted, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear as you both waited for the other to say something. Finally, he broke the ice. “So, how’ve you been?”

“Fine. Busy,” you answered vaguely. “Looks like we’ll be working together now.”

“Looks like it,” he echoed. There was a brief pause before his eyes flickered over you. “I’d say it’ll be just like old times, but somehow, I think things might be a little different now.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Different how?”

Chase smiled—a softer, less smug one this time. “I guess we’ll find out.”

Working with Chase was exactly what you expected: maddening. He was still brilliant, still effortlessly charming, and still found ways to get under your skin. But this time, something was. . . different. It wasn’t just rivalry anymore. There was a strange tension between you, the kind that made your heart race when he stood too close or leaned over your shoulder to point something out during rounds.

“You’re overthinking it again,” Chase said, pulling you from your thoughts as the two of you reviewed a patient file one evening. House, has once again, left his paperworks for the both of you to finish. You glanced up, your eyes meeting his in the low light of the office. He was standing closer than usual, and you could feel the heat radiating from him, you could smell his cologne— God, you could feel him.

“I’m not overthinking,” you protested, though the slight waver in your voice betrayed you.

Chase chuckled softly, the sound low and intimate in the quiet room. “You always do. It’s one of the things I… admire about you,” he said, his voice dipping at the end, almost as if he hadn’t meant to reveal that last part.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. “Admire?”

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze dropping to the file in your hand before looking back at you. There was something unspoken between you, something that had been building for quite a while now. And in that moment, it felt like everything hung in the balance.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “Admire.”

Your breath hitched slightly, and for the first time, you didn’t feel the need to fire back with a sarcastic retort. Instead, the room filled with a quiet tension, one that was as familiar as it was new.

Chase’s eyes lingered on yours a second too long before he cleared his throat and took a step back, the spell broken. “Anyway,” he said, his usual demeanor slipping back into place, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t stay up too late.” He flashed you a quick smile before heading toward the door, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding in your chest.

The next day, you found yourself back in the break room, pouring a much-needed cup of coffee. You were still trying to process your feelings about Chase when he walked in, a lopsided grin on his face.

“Look who it is—Miss Perfect,” he teased, leaning against the counter. “You’re up early today.”

“Please, it’s called being responsible,” you shot back, trying to keep your tone light. “Not all of us can coast by on charm and good looks.”

Chase raised an eyebrow. “That’s rich coming from the person who aced the last exam while I was busy trying to save a patient.”

“Are we really going to do this again?” you sighed, setting your coffee down. “Can’t you ever just let it go?”

He leaned in, his expression turning serious. “Not when you keep insisting on making everything a competition. Maybe it’s time we talk about it instead of arguing.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Talk about what? Your inability to accept that I’m better than you?”

“Or your inability to admit that you actually enjoy the challenge,” he shot back, crossing his arms. “You thrive on it, just like I do.”

The tension in the room escalated as you both squared off. “You think I thrive on competition? I’ve worked hard for my grades, Chase. You think it’s just a game to me?”

“No, but you treat it like one,” he retorted, frustration creeping into his voice. “You’re so focused on beating me that you forget we’re supposed to be on the same team now.”

“Don’t act like you’re some sort of saint,” you replied, frustration bubbling over. “You’re the one who always wants to one-up me.”

“Maybe because I want you to see that I’m not just some arrogant jerk. I actually want to work with you,” he argued, his voice rising slightly.

“And what makes you think I want that?” you challenged, crossing your arms defiantly.

“Because deep down, you know it would be good for both of us,” he said, his tone softening. “And because I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t care.”

The silence that followed was heavy, the air thick with unresolved tension. You both stood there, hearts racing, the realization of unspoken feelings hanging between you. Finally, you broke the silence. “You know what? This is ridiculous. We’re colleagues now, not rivals.”

Chase stepped closer, his expression earnest. “I don’t want to be just colleagues. . .”

Your heart skipped a beat. You hesitated, the walls you had built around your feelings beginning to crumble.

You knew exactly what Chase meant.

You knew because you both were holding onto a thin thread for quite a while. And neither one of you has ever had the courage to break free and see how everything will unravel.

A smile slowly formed on your lips, Chase won in this one.

Before you could respond, House strolled in, as nonchalant as ever. “What’s this? A soap opera I didn’t get the memo about?” He glanced between you and Chase, a knowing smirk on his face. “Are you two finally admitting your feelings, or are you just going to keep throwing insults at each other like five-year-olds?”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile crept onto your face. “What do you want, House?”

“Oh, just making sure the hospital doesn’t turn into a high school drama,” he replied, clearly enjoying the moment. “I need my team to be functional.”

Chase crossed his arms, unfazed by House’s jabs. “And yet, you’re here, interrupting an important discussion.”

“Important discussion? More like a public service announcement for the clueless,” House shot back. “But fine, carry on. I’ll just be out here, waiting for the inevitable awkwardness that’s sure to follow.”

You shot Chase a glare, feeling a mix of annoyance and amusement at House’s timing. “Thanks for the support, House,” you said sarcastically.

Chase chuckled, the tension breaking as he leaned back against the counter. “Well, at least he keeps things interesting.”

“Interesting is one way to put it,” you replied, shaking your head. “But this doesn’t change the fact that we still need to talk about our work.”

“Fine,” Chase said, the playful glint in his eyes returning. “Let’s focus on that, but can I at least take you out for coffee afterward? You know, to celebrate our newfound ‘colleague’ status?”

You chuckled then considered it for a moment, the thought of sharing a casual coffee with him igniting a flutter of excitement in your chest. “Okay, but only if you promise not to let it turn into a competition.”

Chase grinned, that familiar spark of mischief lighting up his eyes. “No promises. But I’ll try my best.”

As he leaned closer, a playful banter started anew, the air filled with the kind of electricity that only grew with each exchanged word. In that moment, amid the laughter and jabs, you realized you were finally allowing him in—rivalry and all.

[unsolvedjarin]

Thinking about a kimi x fem! Driver! Reader who is basically the female version of Sebastian, where the fic is kimi and the reader doing a challenge for Ferraris channel, the reader being a bit of a know it all, and kimi just not caring

You can choose if it’s romantic or platonic:) thank you!

FERRARI AND CHINESE FOOD

pairing: (kimi raikkonen x ferrari driver! reader)

summary: ferrari has a sunshine driver and an iceman driver partake in a challenge for their youtube channel. thankfully, the sun can melt ice.

note: its 1am sorry i have no comprehensive thoughts this is a bit bad but have it anyways i am proud i made this with less than 5 hours of sleep. okay enjoy anon!!!!

content warning: my grammar at 1am

“Another one,” Kimi groans, throwing himself onto the couch in his room.

“Oh come on it’s not that bad,” you say with a grin, closing the door behind the both of you so no one could come in. You’re sure if Kimi had to talk to another person from the media he might explode. “Besides, this next one is the last one for today.”

“For today,” he emphasizes, groaning into a throw pillow once more. You’d both been doing media duties for Ferrari all day, and while it was tiring, you would say some of them had been fun and enjoyable. Although, evidently not for your teammate.

“Cheer up Kimi, it’ll be over soon,” you smile, sitting on the edge of the couch where he was laying down. You sigh, knowing the one thing that would get him to cooperate. “Dinner will be on me after.”

That grabs his attention, slightly pulling himself up and looking at you. “You mean that?”

“God you’re like a child I have to bribe,” you tease, yet with no malice. “Yes, I mean that.” You loved spending time with Kimi, and whenever there were media duties you both always had food afterwards. It was like a reward of sorts.

“Where d’ya wanna go?” Kimi mumbles, laying down on his side and resting his head on his hand. He was staring straight at you, waiting for a response. You think he looked pretty like this.

Smiling at him, you take your hand and run it through his hair softly, unable to help yourself. You would never normally do this, but you barely got moments alone during media week. Kimi grumbles but doesn’t stop you, you knew he always secretly liked it. “I dunno, what’re you up for?”

“Mmm…” he nuzzles into your hand a bit more, “Maybe chinese. I would enjoy some dumplings right now.”

“We can get Chinese then.”

Before you could have another moment of peace, however, a PR agent walked in the room to remind you that your next shoot was in ten minutes. You quickly pulled your hand away and Kimi sat up hastily, trying to fix up his hair. You give the agent an awkward thumbs up, hoping he got the message to leave.

“Okay, you’re right, this incessant filming is a bit tiring,” you say the second the door closes.

“Told you,” he simply replies. You pout in return, slumping your form beside him. He thought you looked so cute like this. Holding your cheek, he kisses your forehead, your nose, then your mouth, making you scrunch up your face. He chuckles, at least he made you feel a bit better.

“I should probably get ready for the shoot. You good here?” You ask, getting up from the couch. Kimi hums a yes, but doesn’t let go of your hand. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, Kimi, but you will have to let go of my hand so I can get to my room.”

He looks at you with puppy eyes for a second before reluctantly letting go, deciding to lay back down on the couch.

“You’re not gonna get ready?”

Kimi shakes his head, eyes already closed ready for a five minute nap. You scoff softly at him, before heading for the door. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he mumbles. Kimi was not a man of many words by any means, but he would always utter those back to you. Smiling to yourself, you shut the door and get ready for the shoot.

“So this is how the challenge goes: you have to compete with each other on who knows your fellow drivers and each other the best, and of course, most points win. You’ll write your answers on a whiteboard so there’ll be no cheating.” The interviewer behind the camera explains. You nod, giving her a signal that you were ready for them to start filming. Kimi sat beside you on a couch, his face not showing any emotions whatsoever. Looks like you would be doing the heavy lifting on this shoot today.

They snap the check in front of the camera, and the interviewer asks the first question. “Starting with something simple, who on the grid has the most wins?”

“Oh, easy.” you mumble, writing your answer down on your board. Kimi wrote his answer in silence, not talking even when he finished.

“Done?”

You nod, both you and Kimi showing your boards. Lewis Hamilton.

“Easy enough, next question! Who was Y/N’s idol growing up?”

“Aha! You should know this, I told you about it before!” you exclaim, poking Kimi. He grunts, “Not fair, she knows her own idol of course.”

“Sorry, the question wasn’t finished. For Y/N, who was Kimi's idol growing up?” The girl adds.

Oh. Your smile drops as you look to the man beside you who, for the first time in any of the shoots you did today, showed emotion by grinning wickedly at you. “You should get this, I told you about it before,” he teases, echoing your own words. You think for a second before writing down a guess of an answer.

“Time’s up! Can you both please show your boards.”

You reveal yours first, the words Ayrton Senna scribbled down on it. Looking at the man beside you for confirmation, he shakes his head.

“Awh no way! Who’s your idol then?”

Kimi shrugs his shoulders, not answering your question. He didn’t even give Ferrari an answer for that one. He looks at his own empty board for a second before jotting down an answer he’s sure is wrong, but he’s also sure as hell is funny.

Turning his board around, you see Kimi Raikkonen written down with a smiley face beside it. You snigger loudly before replying, “Sure it is bud. In your dreams, maybe.”

“Unfortunately, that is incorrect, Kimi.” The interviewer calls out.

“Go figure,” he mumbles wryly, making you grin even wider.

“No, his answer is correct.” You joke, trying to tease him even more. He gives you a look but you simply keep your sly grin. He decides to drop it, after all he at least made you smile. That in itself deserves a point.

The questions went on for a while, before they got to the harder ones. “Okay, amping it up a notch, who won the 1985 World Championship?”

“Woah, that escalated quickly,” you exclaim, pausing to think for a second.

So far the score was 4-1 for you and Kimi respectively, as he really wasn’t trying at all. You’re pretty sure he could’ve gotten the question about what year Fernando Alonso came into F1 right if he cared. Jotting your answer down to the current question, you see Kimi from your peripheral vision trying to take a peek of your board.

“Hey!” you smack him lightly with your board, “Cheater.”

He smirks, trying to block your second hit. “Wasn’t cheating.”

You continue writing your answer but this time hiding it from Kimi, keeping it as close to your chest as possible. He looks at you for a second as if planning something before going back to write on his own board. Well– he pretends to write something, but you can see him just drawing a star in the corner of his board.

“What’re you planning?” You mumble. Kimi simply shrugs his shoulders, but you can see the slight grin playing on his lips. Locking in your answer, you feel the couch shift slightly to your left. Kimi inched a little closer without you sensing it. He notices your side eye and realizes it’s now or never, and tries to tackle you to see your board.

You shriek, attempting to hide your board from him by sliding down the sofa, to no avail. Your reaction was too slow and he was already on your side of the couch. You were giggling helplessly at this point, unable to contain your joy. Opening your eyes that you didn’t notice you closed, you’re met with a large smile, your teammate proud of himself.

“Get off of me Raikkonen!” You exclaim, using his last name for emphasis. You try to shove him off but he stays solid slightly on top of you, still pretending to try and take a peek of your board. You knew he didn’t give a damn about those answers anymore.

“Say please,” he mutters, still smirking. You truly didn’t know what had gotten into him.

“Please get off of me, you bastard.”

In truth Kimi didn’t want to, he enjoyed seeing your face scrunch up under him with a laugh. He had forgotten about the cameras a long time ago– they weren’t important to him. He just liked seeing you smile. Still, he knew the faster they finished this challenge the faster he could get some alone time with you.

He finally concedes and moves back to his spot on the couch, fixing his hair and going back to writing his answer as if nothing happened. You sit up straight, fix your shirt, and do the same. The crew looked confused, feeling like they saw something that they shouldn’t have. You didn’t care, though. If anyone asked you would just say what you always did, that physical touch was your love language with friends. It wasn’t necessarily a lie, except for the fact that Kimi wasn’t just a friend.

The interviewer clears her throat before speaking up again, “Okay– uh– answers?”

“Prost, of course.” You answer with a smile. You loved studying the history of Formula One. Even though you couldn’t see, Kimi gave you the softest look he has in a while. He loved how you genuinely lit up whenever something you liked came up.

“And you, Kimi?” The interviewer asks, making the man snap out of his moment of adoration.

Kimi flips his board, a Lewis Hamilton written on it. The interviewer shakes her head but continues, “I’m sure that’s a gag answer b—”

“Is it?” Kimi butts in.

“I’m sorry?”

“Is it a gag answer?”

You shove Kimi softly on his side, “Don’t mess with her like that!”

He chuckles, before raising his hands in defeat. “Whatever you say.”

The rest of the game moves pretty quick, save for a quick argument between you and Kimi on what Sebastian’s favorite track was. As you both leave the set, you give Kimi a sneaky grin. “Bold move earlier.”

“Hmm?”

“Doing all that tackling in front of the camera. I thought you were the one who said we should be discreet. You definitely gave Ferrari a lot of bonus content. I’m sure they’ll cut it out though.”

“Ehh,” Kimi shrugs, not replying for a good while as you both walk out the Ferrari building and out into the night streets. You knew he was trying to find the right words, trying to figure out how to articulate his thoughts. It was part of the reason why he didn’t like talking so much.

Once outside he wraps his arms around you, a sign that he was finally back in the present and ready to talk. “I just wanted people to know, you know?”

“Know what? That you have a quarterback tackle?”

He chuckles at the recent memory before replying, “No, that I love you.”

You blush, hoping Kimi didn’t see it. He did. You carry on your conversation, “And how exactly did you plan to convey that message when they don’t even know we’re in a relationship?”

“Hey, Sebastian knows.” He argues.

“Seb hardly counts, he practically forced his way into figuring it out.”

Kimi shakes his head, his arms still around you. “And he walked into a room at the wrong time.”

His comment makes you laugh, a soft smile on your face as you turn to face him. “I love you, you know that?”

“Mhm. Love you too. Even if I don’t say it much.”

Your grin grows even larger, leaning up to kiss him. “You don’t have to say, I know.” He kissed you back, and he could feel your smile as he did. He thinks it’s crazy that he’s hidden such a blessing from the world. How you ever loved someone like him, he didn’t know, but he wouldn’t change it for the world.

Pulling away, he gives you a smile that only you get to see. The softest in the world, looking at you as if you were the world. He breaks eye contact to hold your hand, headed towards the chinese restaurant down the road. “Okay, now dumplings.”

[ghastlyfilters]

Pleeease write some headcanons of Art trying to cheer up a GN reader who's stressed over school/work/etc. 🥺🥺🥺 pretty please 🤧🤍🙂‍↕️

art with a s/o who’s struggling with work!!

pairings; implied art the clown x gn reader

warnings; mentions of violence (this is what ya get when your fictional crush is a murderer babe 😔) stress, and gotta add in fluff

gifs made by me!! :)

THE HEADCANONS:

• If there’s one thing about Art that everyone should know by now, is that he is INCREDIBLY curious. However, when it comes to anyone studying, this man is bored out of his little clown mind.

• He thrives off your happiness when you’re in a good mood, but when you’re stressed.. Art’s kinda at a loss..

• Despite Art absolutely living for other people’s misery, seeing you so stressed actually freaks him out in a sense. He’s a ticking time bomb. And his brain can’t handle shit when your brain also cannot handle shit 😭

• His horn’s practically his best buddy at this point, and if it cheers him up, it’ll maybe cheer you up? Right?

…. Right??

• Yeah, him honking his horn in your ear whilst you were trying to study your ass off did not seem to sit well with you. When you told him to stop, he gave you that sassy judgemental look, raising one drawn on brow. He knows the power he has over you. Art could’ve honked that fucking horn all day if he liked. It’s not as if you could stop him.

• But.. your boyfriend has respect for you.. sometimes. And he did in fact stop honking his horn whenever he noticed that you were studying.

• Art is awake literally ever single hour of the day. He doesn’t necessarily need to sleep, he more so sort of lounges around. But he can sleep if he really wants to. This makes him literally ideal for going out and getting you food if you’re up at three in the morning studying.

• He did it so much now that you didn’t even ask anymore. You’d be up in the early hours of the morning on your macbook, and Art was already out the door. He could care less if anyone saw him. Most people think he’s some asshole just dressing up as the Miles County clown.

And that’s the mistake the cashier at Subway made that night.

• Art is so SO prone to being insulted easily. So if someone does think he’s trying to dress up as himself, it pisses him off. BAD.

• You learnt this very quickly when he came home with two blood stained Subway bags. And when you went to open one.. dawg.. it wasn’t your food.. ☹️

• It had been the severed head of the cashier he killed. But at this point you weren’t even squeamish anymore. Art always walked around smelling like someone’s insides. But it just made it incredibly awkward when he stood in the doorway blinking at you, making that O shape with his mouth, realising your food was in the other bag..

• One night you’d fallen asleep on the couch, exhausted from filling out all the files your professor had sent you. Art smiled down at you before waltzing past with his usual looney tune, cartoonish looking walk. He wanted to raid your snacks again from the kitchen. Art could be a fat shit when he wanted to be. Your laptop was on the dining table, wide open. He hadn’t noticed at first, before a notification sound filled the room in under a second. Art had snapped his head round and squinted, noticing your professor’s name pop up. The prick sent an email lecturing you regarding not enough work being sent back, despite the fact he was sending a shit ton of files. This caused Art to type a very lovely little email back. And when you awoke, he was gone.

… So was your professor apparently when the head of your college sent everyone emails that morning to note that he would not be returning.

• When Art came strolling back in, covered head to toe in that familiar red liquid, you immediately knew.

And this was your long awaited break.

• At last you weren’t having anymore documents sent to you for a while. Atleast until they found a replacement for your old professor. So finally you could relax, watching your lanky boyfriend on the couch across from you, grinning like the madman he is at the horror flick on the TV.

Maybe that clown could cheer you up with everything after all.

HII! this was so fun to write. i adore art so much and i’m desperate for more requests for him!! (also ik a 24hr subway isn’t that common, don’t come for me 😭)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: we're here to boo Andrew.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“So, you’re coming?” Jacob’s voice quavers with excitement. You can’t imagine how he’d sound if you said no. You hate letting people down, it seems to be all you've ever done.

“Uh, yeah,” you say as you steer around the track; opting for some MarioKart over Minecraft that night, “boss says it’s no problem to get the days off. Just have to make it up after. Is... Is everything still good on your end?” 

“Oh yeah, sure thing,” he assures buoyantly, “I can’t wait. Did you still wanna split the airBnB?” 

“Actually, I got a place to stay for the night then I’ll take the early bus back,” you explain as Princess Peach knocks you off the track, “argh!” 

“Right, that’s good,” he says, “good to know you won’t be stranded out there.” 

“Mhm,” you use your boost to catch up to Peach and get your revenge. You don’t mention that Kara will be with you at the con. You just want to be sure this isn’t something wonky. “It’ll be nice to get out of town. My grandma will probably be happy to have the place to herself.” 

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “what’s her problem anyway?” 

“Just the way she is. She likes her space,” you shrug, “I don’t know, I don’t think she expected to be raising her granddaughter...” 

“Ah, yeah, I guess that would be stressful,” he says, “still, seems like you’re not too bad to be around. Got a job, go to school, all that. Think my dad would love it if I put in half as much effort.” 

“Yeah? You make him sound like a hard ass.” 

“Can be. Lawyer, so kinda his schtick,” he chuckles. 

“Oo, fancy,” you snort. Maybe if either of your parents had been lawyers, you wouldn’t be living off your grandma’s resent.  

“I guess. Never really see him that much...” he grumbles. 

“Hm, well, no winning, is there?” You mutter. 

“Not really,” he sighs and hisses, “ugh, Toad!” 

You chuckle and cross the finish line. A respectable second. You wait for him to finish and stifle a yawn. 

“Tired?” He asks. 

“Little.” 

“Me too, long day,” he groans, “neck’s killing me.” 

“Oh, what’d you do--” 

“You know, I’m-- an idiot. Was messing around on my bike.” 

“Of course,” you snicker, “well, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna sign off. I don’t wanna keep my grandma up and my head’s starting to go.” 

“Sure, I gotta get up early anyway,” he sounds less than enthused. “Good night.” 

“You too.” 

“Tomorrow?” 

“Can’t, work. Day after?” 

“Okay, I’ll make it work,” he confirms, “I’m excited about meeting up. Aren’t you?” 

“Yep,” you try not to show your doubt. You’re still not really sure about everything. 

“Can’t wait,” he rasps and the silt in his tone makes you shiver. 

“Yeah, er, bye then,” you hit end session and take off your headset, your ears tender and a bit sweaty. Even if it is awkward, at least you’ll get to hang with Kara for a bit. You haven’t seen her since grad. 

🎮

You’re already exhausted and you’re not even inside yet. The line for the convention is bustling and your excitement keeps you going as you and Kara gab away and move with the slow crawl. The sun beams down and has you sweating, though you could easily blame that on your nerves too. 

“So, this Jacob... is he cute?” She winks. 

“Kara,” you roll your eyes, “it’s not like that. Really. We just game.” 

“Oh yeah. But do you want it to be more?” She teases. 

“You know I’m not really into all that. I don’t have room for a boyfriend in my life.” 

“So boring. Never change, girlie,” she nudges you playfully. “But really, that’s smart. Calvin is too much. I’m thinking of cutting him loose.” 

“Again?” You squint. 

“Not my fault he keeps coming back,” she giggles. 

You peer around, searching out a familiar face amid the ocean of strangers. You haven’t seen Jacob yet. You’re almost hoping he doesn’t show up. Then again, why wouldn’t he? He paid for you to be here. The reminder of the fact strikes guilt in your chest. 

You pause as your eyes catch another pair, further back in the queue. An older man with a beard. He stands out among the crowd. He wears a tidy button-up where most wear graphic tees or cosplay attire. He stares for a moment before he turns away and looks down, probably at whatever kid dragged him there. 

“Well, what are you going to do if he sees you and falls in love?” Kara asks. 

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes. 

“If he’s a nerd like you, how could he not?” 

“Hey,” you frown. 

“What? You’re like the sexy gamer girl type. Isn’t that what dudes want?” She shrugs. “Let me see his pic again. He’s a skinny little thing. He’d definitely be into you.” 

“Urgh, stop,” you cross your arms. 

“Sorry, I’m only playing. You just seem so nervous, I’m trying to loosen you up.” 

“I know,” you puff, “it’s just... I should’ve just said no. This is stupid. I don’t know why I even agreed.” 

“To get out of that shithole,” she snips. “Why do you think I hauled ass the minute I popped by grad cap on?” 

“Mm, yeah, I just hope... do you think he really wants that? Maybe I gave him the wrong idea. Oh, Kar, I really didn’t mean to lead him on.” 

“No, no, I’m sure it’s nothing you did if he does. I mean, he’s probably a virgin so...” 

“That’s mean,” you pout. 

“What, so are you,” she laughs. 

“Exactly,” you shake your head and drop your arms, a buzz jittering your skirt pocket.  

You look down at yourself as you slide your phone free. That was probably a bold choice but it’s so damn hot out. Besides, your Pikachu tee is loose enough to counteract the denim sheath. You turn the screen up, shading it with your hand as you read. 

‘Sorry, not going to make it. Something came up. 🙁' 

You frown and reread the message. Really? You came all the way here, took time off of work, and he’s flaking? 

“What’s up?” Kara asks as she clicks her manicured nails impatiently and stands on her toes, trying to see past the bodies ahead. 

“He just cancelled,” you mutter and type in your reply. 

‘Oh no. Hope it’s nothing bad. Maybe another time.’ 

You hit send and drop your shoulders. You’re surprised how disappointed you are. More so about the wasted effort than anything. Even if you are a bit relieved, it’s shitty. 

“Ah, bullshit!” Kara sneers, “what the hell? What did he say?” She reaches for your phone and you hold it out of her grasp. “That fucker.” 

“It’s probably not his fault. Shit happens.” 

“Babe, you’re gonna settle for a lot of nonsense if you keep that attitude. I’d be friggin pissed if I was you. He brings you all the way here and now he’s too good for you. I bet he saw some cute girl in line and she smiled at him once so now he’s ditching,” she scowls, “I hate boys.” 

“I’m sure... it’s nothing,” you say glumly as your phone vibes again. 

‘I’m real sorry. I hope you still have a good time. Take lots of pictures.’ 

You don’t respond. You lock your phone and put it back in your pocket. It never feels good to be stood up. Even then. 

“You know what, screw him,” Kara snarls, “let’s go in there and buy you the cutest plushie you can find. Hell, maybe you can find an even cuter guy.” 

“Kar,” you warn her. 

“Fine, just the plushie. Maybe two,” she trills, “forget that loser.” 

🎮

The chaos of the convention wipes away the dark cloud over you. You’re almost thankful that Jacob gave you the opportunity to catch up with Kara. You didn’t realise how much you missed her. It’s perfect day where you can forget about your grandmother and your lame job and everything else. 

You rush around from booth to booth. You look at fanart, handmade figures, and stuffies. You’re mindful of your wallet and how empty it really is. You’ll get one thing and a snack. That’s all you can afford.  

As the hours roll by, your early morning bus ride and time spent standing out in the hot sun catch up to you. You feel your muscles starting to ache and your eyelids turning fuzzy. You yawn as you shuffle behind Kara as she waits in line to get a signature from the one D-list celeb she’s heard of. You’d get one too but it’s way too expensive. 

“Hey,” you rub your cheek, “mind if I sit and wait? I wanna grab a soft pretzel anyway.” 

“Sure,” she agrees easily, “looks like it’s gonna be a while.” 

“Want me to bring you a drink or something?” You offer. 

“Nah, just text me where you are so I can find you,” she says. 

You leave her reluctantly. You’d rather not be wandering alone through the hordes but your feet are killing you and your stomach’s been roaring for the last hour. You stand in line for the pretzel stall and get yours with cinnamon sugar and syrup. Messy but delicious. 

You find a table in the corner and settle in. You put your phone beside the napkin and tear apart the doughy goodness. Your phone lights up with a notification from the merge game you like to play and you see several other icons; missed messages. 

You focus on your snack, savouring each bite, as your eyes drift around the crowded centre. You can barely see some of the booths as hordes cluster around. Some cosplayers bat at each other with toy swords as children fight over the arcade machines. You’re overwhelmed by the sheer amount of activity all around. 

You put your head down trying to block out the lights and noise. You feel yourself getting overstimulated. It’s like when you’re in the lecture hall and suddenly you can hear every sniff, sneeze, and keystroke. You close your eyes as you wipe your fingertips on the edge of the napkin, only half-finished your pretzel. 

“Looks good,” a deep voice cuts through the blaring din. 

As you recognise the timbre, your heart squeezes and the world pinpoints at the centre of your skull. You open your eyes and slowly raise your head. You blink dumbly at the unfamiliar man stood in front of you. You think you’ve seen him before, or at least he sticks out from the typical convention attendee. 

It isn’t that he’s too old, there’s lots of older geeks hanging around but they have neckbeards and greasy combovers. His hair is tidy and his beard trimmed close. His clothing also lacks the typical Dorito dust or anime character. You remember, he was outside in the line. 

“Uh, hello?” You utter. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he says as he pulls out the chair across from you. He sits as your insides plunge. You know his voice. 

“Jacob?” You murmur in shock. How? Why? This isn’t the stringy teenager you met online. 

He nods, his jaw tensing, and he crosses an arm over the table, pointing to your half-eaten pretzel, “what’d you get on yours? I can’t decide between sweet or savoury.” 

“Who... are you?” You croak, head spinning as your eyes prick. You knew something was weird. You knew you weren’t talking to Jacob or whoever that boy was in the pictures. 

He takes a breath and lets it out slowly. As his chest deflates, you do too. He’s older than you, bigger than you, and by the looks of him, a lot better off. Why the hell would he be chatting with you? Why would he lie to you? 

“You’re right. I’m not Jacob,” he confesses, the colour draining from his face. He steeples his fingers and considers his next words carefully. You sit back and hug yourself defensively. This is fucked. “My name is Andy, Jacob is my son.” 

“Your son?” You eke out, “why-- why would you lie?” 

He cringes and takes another breath, “he was my son,” he corrects himself, “he... passed.” 

You feel like you’ve been struck. Your mouth falls open, stunned. Not only did he hide behind his son’s photos, but his dead son’s. Oh, god. You feel sick. No, you feel stupid. 

“Look, please, just hear me out. I just—it wasn’t meant to go on this long. When I first lied to you, it was supposed to be that one time. I was... I was lost. I just lost Jacob and I was going through his things. I started playing because I missed him. I wanted to feel like he was still there--” 

“No, no, you got on discord and you started talking to me. As him!” Your voice shakes and your eyes tinge. “That’s not just missing him.” 

“I know, you’re right. I lied but... I got lonely playing by myself so yes, I went onto that discord. You were nice. You didn’t call me a noob or whatever. And... and after work, looking forward to hearing your voice, it got me through a lot of pain. Being alone in that house after so long, I couldn’t cope--” 

“So you lied to me?” You stand and snatch your phone, nauseous to the core, “you manipulated me. How do you know—if you had just been you that I would’ve been any different? If you just wanted to play games, to be friends--” 

“I was scared--” 

“I don’t care if you were scared,” you hiss as you stomp forward. “You’re an adult.” 

He stands and blocks your path. You recoil, put off by his height. He’s a lot bigger on his feet. 

“Please, move or... I’ll scream,” you breathe. 

“You don’t have to do that. Just hear me out,” he pleads. 

“I don’t want to hear anything else from you, Jacob. Or Andy. Or whoever you really are,” you sneer, “move.” 

He shudders and hangs his head. He makes himself seem small as his shoulders round and he backs out of your way. You bite down and march past him.  

You need to get to a bathroom. Now. You’re going to spew up your guts. More important, you need to get yourself together before you go find Kara. She can’t know this happened. It’s too embarrassing. 

[mvltisstuff]

hii!! i hope you’re well :) i haven’t seen anyone write a fic for ravi panikkar (he deserves the whole world fr) so i’ve got a request hehe, if that’s okay?

could you write a fic where reader and ravi secretly like each other but are both too awkward to admit it so the 118 always tease them and try to set them up together? maybe in the end they both confess their feelings to each other after one of them gets badly injured when attending a rescue?

im soo sorry if this is too long and feel free to ignore this request if you’d like <33 thank youuu 🫶

suburban legends (pt.1) - r.p

summary: request

ravi panikkar x reader

a/n: thank you for the request, i hope this does it justice and you enjoy :)) This WILL have a second part!! i just wanted to get something out for u today :))

everyone knew that y/n and ravi were pretty much the baby siblings of the rest of the crew at the 118. they all got so attached to each other, but for some reason, ravi and y/n always managed to strengthen the distance between them. it was like a family photo, each of them on other ends.

y/n came into the picture a bit after ravi did, instantly clicking with everyone. she was incredibly bright for her age and being so new, so she was perfect to have on the team. ravi was quick and selfless, making him another must-have when bobby was looking for new probies. he could already envision y/n and ravi being just like buck and eddie, or chim and hen.

however, bobby’s ideas were slowed down by their stubbornness. as soon as y/n walked into the station, she got nervous whenever ravi was near. the first time she laid eyes on him, it was evident on her face that she had a little crush forming. ravi, too, kept asking bobby and his other coworkers questions about the new girl, but only getting teasing replies back. y/n and ravi, out of their own anxieties, would exchange a couple sentences a day, and they would be on calls. they seemed like strangers when out of uniform, and none of the team liked it.

they’ve been plotting small things for weeks to get them to talk to each other, like bringing the team out for drinks, or dinner after a call. none of it seemed to work, because they both found loopholes of how not to be surrounded by each other. in buck and eddie’s eyes, it seemed like ravi needed a pep talk.

“hey, ravi!” buck called, while walking besides eddie into the kitchen. ravi was at the table, eating leftovers from dinner the night before. it had been a slow day, so he took the time he had to eat. “we need some advice.”

“yeah, we’re getting old, we need to know what it’s like these days from a younger perspective.” eddie adds, sitting down across from ravi and buck copies.

“okay, with what?”

“so, we both like these girls, and,” eddie turns to look at buck, who nods along. “we need your advice on how to get them. you know, times are always changing and girls like different things now.”

“you guys aren’t even that old-“

“oh, ravi, please,” buck groans. “i feel my knees deteriorating every day and eddie found a grey beard hair the other day.”

“oh, go on, i guess.”

“anyway, this girl, she’s so smart, like amazingly smart.” eddie starts, thinking of ways to describe y/n. “she’s got these eyes that hunt me down and she always has her hair up nice.”

“and mine, she is always on time and never slowed down. she’s passionate and so gorgeous.” buck includes as ravi just shoves more food into his mouth.

“well, what does she do?”

“they’re both firefighters. we met them at the…” eddie starts.

“the bar.” buck finishes for him.

“i play hard to get.” ravi starts spilling, and buck and eddie lean in closer. “the less attention you give, the more they want you. it’ll make it more exciting when they start making more moves. but, you also don’t want to get too attached because she might not want a real relationship. people just want sex these days and i don’t want to make things awkward because we both work at the same station. putting a gap between the two of you works, but it feels like shit, but at least you’ll feel like shit together.”

“mhm, so just ignore her all the time and do everything i can to avoid her?” buck questions, squinting at ravi.

“no, not exactly-“

“isn’t that what you do though?” eddie replies.

“sorry?”

“we’re not dumb, panikkar. your big feelings for y/n are so obvious that it’s the only thing we talk about here these days. do you know how much money i’ve lost because of you two?”

“that’s true, i win all the bets.” buck chimes in.

“i don’t have feelings for-“

“don’t start lying to us now,” eddie sings.

“i’m not ly-“

“you’re lying!” buck sings in the same tone as eddie.

“i don’t really like you guys!” ravi says, putting his fork down.

“well, that doesn’t matter, because you like y/n and she fancies you.” buck tells him.

“wait, did she tell you that?” buck and eddie sigh at his excitement.

“she’s polishing the trucks and she needs an extra hand. and, buck and i, we just don’t want to. and bobby said we can tell you what to do.” eddie says.

“no, he didn’t.” buck hands ravi a cloth and jerks his head in y/n’s direction. “fine. but if this backfires, its on you.”

as ravi heads down the stairs, he stands next to y/n and tosses the rag around nervously. “figured i’d give you a hand.”

hen and chim, on the other engine, turn their heads and stare at the pair, but buck and eddie come back and remind them to not bother y/n and ravi. they were like deer, once you make too much noise they run away.

“oh, thanks,” y/n smiles. “this is my least favorite thing to do.”

“that’s how i feel with cleaning the kitchen, it’s so boring.”

“i don’t mind the kitchen, actually.”

“i’ve been putting it off,” ravi laughs, smearing more polish onto the red, shiny vehicle.

“i can go do it for you, if you want.” y/n offers. ravi does not want her to, because it feels like they’re actually going somewhere now.

“uh,” he hesitates. “sure! only if you want.”

“it’s no problem.” y/n grins and starts making her way upstairs.

buck and eddie come stand next to ravi, shaking their heads in disapproval at the way things just happened.

stuff like this continued to happen for days, ravi would get too close, and y/n would run off. he didn’t understand why she would get so nervous when he’d come around. he figured he’d just give up, no use in getting the girl when she doesn’t want it.

ravi finally thought he had her right where he wanted her. he went upstairs to help her in the kitchen, after taking his chore again to try and help. but, the alarm blaring through the station quickly paused things, like always.

[mochidoie]

CO-

kim doyoung x reader wc - 8.7k genre - very slow burn, frenemy to lovers (light banter), coworkers!au, roomates!au warnings - a small kiss scene

You and Doyoung coexist in two specific ways: cohabitation and as coworkers. However, your friendship, if you can call it that, is far from besties and more on being cordial with one another. Nonetheless, in this dreary corporate world, he is the only one who just gets you and despite his coldness, he feels the same about you.

Doyoung annoyingly types on his keyboard in the cubicle next to you, completely disrupting your concentration and general workflow. Groaning, you hope that it was enough to signify how irritated you were. However, instead of the obnoxious typing coming to a halt, it intensifies tenfold and catches the attention of everyone else who sits on this floor.

Embarrassment washes over your body as you forcibly stand up and peer over the short wall that divides both of your desks. “Knock it off.” You gently smack the back of Doyoung’s head and he winces forward, looking up at you immediately with a glare.

“I’m seriously going to report you to HR one day.” He whispers, his threat just barely sounds legitimate. Doyoung is the greatest at bluffing and empty threats. 

“Well today won’t be the day. You’re typing so loud that it could be a noise complaint.” Rolling your eyes, you drop back down into your seat. Smoothly swiveling your chair back to the intimidating project blown full screen on your monitor, you dread every minute of being here. Your day is full of reports, documentations, and boring project meetings. 

You’ll have small talk about the weather in the break room over some watered down coffee made by a machine and happy hours on random days of the week at the nearby upscale restaurant.

You’ll run into someone from another department on the elevators and feel awkward for several floors until one of you finally gets out. Hiding in the bathroom is the only escape from the depressing gray carpet and fluorescent indoor lighting. 

“You could make this a more enjoyable workplace if you didn’t sigh every three minutes.” Doyoung walks around to your cubicle, crossing his arms like the prick he always is.

“I’m sighing because you keep typing for all of the world to hear you.” You turn in your chair, facing him once again with your lips in a line. “Get out of my space.”

“I’m not in your space.” You watch as he slyly backs up from the wall, the tips of his shoes barely skimming the invisible line that crosses into your cubicle. “What is the bad mood for today?” Doyoung raises an eyebrow.

You despise when someone points out your attitude, it just feels completely unnecessary to bring up in conversation. However, you are normally less mean to him and Doyoung was a sensitive individual. “Rough start this morning, my bread got jammed in the toaster and flat tire on my way to work.”

“This is why I tell you to use the oven and to carpool with me. The carbon footprint we could minimize by just using one car is astronomical.” He shoves his hands into his pressed pants pockets, “I guess this is why I didn’t see your car in the lot this morning.”

“It’s in the shop. I’m out of a car for about two weeks because they found something wrong with the engine or something.” 

“Just your luck.”

You groan, “are you just going to nag and pity me, or are you going to offer me a ride home?” 

Doyoung puts his hands up in the air, as he often speaks with his hands. “You’re always welcome to ride with me. You just normally refuse.” 

“Yeah, because it looks weird if we got into the same car together.” 

He shrugs, “people already know we live together. What’s the big deal about it?”

“It’ll look like we’re … you know… Together.” You keep your voice down to a whisper, afraid for any nosy ears listening into business they aren’t a part of. Doyoung nearly throws himself forward laughing at your shifty eyes and your sheepish statement.

“Seriously? I think people can tell we’re far from ever being together.” Ouch. Not that you had any romantic interest in this vile man, but it was a bigger blow to your ego if anything.

It’s also the way Doyoung says it. It’s pure mockery, a joke that you even though there was a slim chance at the consideration of you two being together. 

You shrug him off, ignoring how snobby he is being. “People make rumors. Someone who isn’t close to us can see me getting into your car and get the wrong idea.” Turning around, Doyoung takes the signal that he probably pissed you off more than he intended to.

He sighs and walks up behind your chair. Placing two hands on your shoulders, you slightly flinch at the sudden physical contact. Doyoung leans down to whisper gently into your ear, “let them think what they want.” It sends a shiver down your spine and you don’t have a snarky comment to say back to him.

The sound of his shuffling disappears as he returns back to his side and resumes his typing. You aren’t excited to tackle the task in front of you, if anything, you wish Doyoung annoyed you for a bit longer.

The suffocating dullness of the office wrings any ounce of creativity out of you. You’re like a wet towel that was left too long out in the sun and now you’re all dry and crunchy. 

A swoosh notification catches your eye, a new email from your manager in your inbox for you to worry about. Letting out another sigh of the day, you’re wondering what minuscule thing she needs now. The subject line already has you rolling your eyes and did you really want to open it? Not really. 

FROM PATRICIA A.

HALLOWEEN CELEBRATION: HH AT 127 BAR AND RESTAURANT

Hello Team,

I hope you’re all having a productive day so far. Our VPs have organized a company happy hour for all to attend. Please refer to the infographic attached to this email for information in regards to the Halloween happy hour event that is being held next week at the 127 Bar and Restaurant. 

RSVP through here by the EOD on Friday. Your attendance is highly encouraged as this will be a chance for everyone to network and chat with our VPs. Appropriate Halloween costumes are mandatory for attendance to be considered. Hope to see you all there. 

Best, Patricia A. Regional Manager 

“Costumes, are you fucking kidding me?” You hear Doyoung over your wall, followed by a ferocious clicking noise. 

“Don’t worry, Kim. You won’t need one, you’re already scary looking as is.” Jumping up, you place your elbows on the counter of his wall and peer over him. Doyoung rolls his eyes and stands to level the eye contact.

“You might want to get one, don’t want our VPs to get too scared seeing your face.” His eyebrow raises as he watches your face contour in disgust. He scoffs, closing his laptop and putting his monitor on sleep mode. He makes his way out to the hallway.

“Where are you going?” Your nosiness gets the best of you, not that you actually cared much about Doyoung’s whereabouts.

“On my way to ask our pretty receptionist what costume she’s going in.” He smirks, making a direct line toward the elevators. Slumping back into your chair, you hover your cursor over the RSVP link. Another damn happy hour. 

Doyoung whistles his way out of the elevator as it dings on the lobby level of the office. Around the corner, he is met with the office receptionist with her hair neatly framing her face and red lips curving into a smile as she greets him. 

“Good afternoon Daisy, how are you today?” He rummages through the candy bowl full of mints and dental gum, despite never really caring for sweet cavity inducing treats.

Daisy leans forward on her desk with her sweet smile never leaving her pretty face. “I’m good, how are you?” She knows Doyoung as the man that would often stop by at random hours of the day for small talk and a mint. Not entirely knowing that he was mostly there to see her, she indulges in the light conversation with the nice man. 

“Happy that it’s Thursday, as usual.” Doyoung tears the mint wrapper with his teeth. His forearm is placed comfortably on the counter of the desk as he leans forward chatting with Daisy. 

“Friday is so close.” Daisy says excitedly, clapping her hands together in a cheery youthful manner. “Any weekend plans?”

“Probably going to see the new movie in theaters with a friend.” Truthfully, Doyoung never really has weekend plans set. He spends his weekends indoors and locked behind his door. A true mystery as to what he does behind it. “Not sure though, I’ll see how I’m feeling in the morning.”

“Yeah, I get that. I try to get out of my house during the weekend so that I’m still productive, even though all I want is to relax in bed.” She chuckles and instantly, Doyoung smiles at her relatability and honesty. Her energy is contagious, he always feels a burst whenever he speaks to her. 

“Hey, I mean to ask, do you have a costume in mind for the happy hour next week?” Doyoung suckles the spicy peppermint, rocking it back and forth between each cheek. Daisy ponders for a second and he finds an opportunity to make a very bad joke. “Anything to do with flowers perhaps? Because you’re Daisy.” He laughs at his own joke and she lightly gives in to such a corny question.

“That would be funny,” she laughs, “but I’m not sure if I can attend. I let Patricia know that I’ll be attending my boyfriend’s sister’s engagement party that night.” What a glass shattering moment as Doyoung was not aware that Daisy had a boyfriend. Then again, a woman like her wouldn’t be stuck being single and moping about her sad love life like his own cubicle roommate coworker, y/n.

“Darn, we’ll miss you there then.” Doyoung finds a way to exit the conversation, knowing his heart is already breaking thinking about Daisy spending her weekends out and about with another man. The fantasy of her is ruined.

“Aw, thank you Doyoung.” Daisy reaches underneath her desk and pulls out a familiar looking earbud case, “also, are you able to hand this back to y/n? They dropped this on their way in, but they were already rushing into an elevator before I could catch them. You two are dating, right?”

Doyoung’s lips part open in shock, hearing those words come from Daisy’s mouth entice a strange feeling. His initial reaction is to deny it, clearly, but she looks at him with such awe that he doesn't know what to say. “Where did you hear that?”

“Oh, I overheard a few people chatting about you two. I think people said you two moved in with each other after 5 months of dating.” Daisy innocently explains. “My boyfriend and I could never move in together, at least, not yet. I feel like we have to hit that two year mark before deciding to do so.” 

He chuckles awkwardly, unsure what he is more surprised about: Daisy’s boyfriend or the fact that there are actual rumors that he and y/n are dating. “We’re not dating, just roommates. We’re not even really close.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I really thought you two were dating. Please don’t tell them I said anything.” Daisy covers her mouth and Doyoung accepts the earbuds. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” He forces a smile, bidding a small see you later to Daisy before heading back upstairs to his boring job. The dating rumor invades every part of his thoughts as he tosses the case back and forth between his hands. He is going to murder whoever spread such a heinous lie.

“Maybe we should stagger when we leave. I’ll go first and start my car, then you come down ten minutes later, walk around the lot and then get into my car.” Doyoung nibbles on his granola bar, leaning against the sink counter. Drying your tupperware, you stare at him in confusion.

“Why such an elaborate plan to just go home?” You question.

Doyoung shakes his head at you, as if you don’t think about the potential risks lying ahead. “Like you said, people start rumors so we should be careful.” 

Halting all your actions completely, you blink blankly at a nervous Doyoung. “You heard something, didn’t you?” 

“When did I–”

“Doyoung, I will rip that granola bar out of your hand. What was it?” 

He neatly places the wrapper back on, setting it down and crossing his arms. “There are rumors of us dating and that we moved in with each other after five months of dating, which in itself is already ridiculous. Obviously, I would wait longer than that to move in with my partner because you never really know if you’d last with that person and then, you’re stuck in an awkward living situation if you ever break up.” Doyoung huffs and puffs. 

Your facial expression doesn’t change, remaining completely unamused and blank as you listen to this man aimlessly derail from the main point. “Thanks for that.” Your tongue clicks and sarcasm laces your words. “I told you, didn’t I?”

“You have to be right all the time, don’t you?” He scoffs, annoyed and grows impatient with your lack of reaction. 

“Uh, with you? Most definitely.” You laugh, which Doyoung does not expect. “People are so bored here that they’ll make up the weirdest out of pocket thing about someone else. Us interacting is enough ammo for them to shoot some made up scenario.” 

“How are you so unphased by this?” 

You pack up your lunch boxes into your bag, “because I know none of it is true. I can barely stand you.” Pausing, you turn to face Doyoung fully. Your hand lightly pats his chest and he watches your every movement, the distance between the two of you closing in. “Like you said, let them think what they want.”

Now, it is Doyoung’s turn to remain speechless at the statement. He should really listen to his own advice.

When you were desperate for a place to live, it did come to your surprise that Doyoung came to your rescue. You two are very distant friends from college, a more accurate title would be acquaintances. Being in the same few clubs made him a familiar figure, but never anyone you personally got close to or spoke much with.

However, there was no harm in networking post-grad. If anything, it became an advantage to come from a big club with so many people aligned in the same field to gain insight into different companies, internships, and  potential job offers. You landed your current adult job with the help of a few connections and chats at career fairs. 

Nonetheless, the offer to move into Doyoung’s apartment was conditional. He had been laid off of his previous work and had to find a new job as soon as he could. Doyoung was able to land the job at your current company through your referral and you were approved to be a co-signer on the lease of the apartment. It felt fated to be and everything fell into its place perfectly, if only you two were compatible. 

The thing with Doyoung is that he always gave off a vibe that he was stuck up and prude. You also had an impression he didn’t like you during college due to you sleeping with his friend, Jaehyun, and breaking his heart when you didn’t want a relationship with him. When you first moved in, you gave Doyoung a lot of leeway but he always treated you coldly. At some point, you had enough of it and decided that he should get a taste of his own attitude. 

Nevertheless, your friendship worked better this way. You’re not entirely sure of the psychology behind it, but Doyoung seemed to communicate with you easier when you were at each other’s throats. All those enemies to lovers tropes you would read growing up were finally making sense to you. 

You two did grow closer when living together, but definitely not to the point where you two were best friends. Doyoung still kept you at arm's reach and so did you. There are a lot of things about him that you didn’t know about, it was quite actually last month that you learned that Doyoung had an older brother. It was only because he had stopped by to drop off some food for him from his mom. 

Doyoung is not the type to warm up to someone quickly, resembling a locked cabinet and a key that is lost somewhere. He is just waiting for the right person to find it. Due to this, you two live very separately at home. Doyoung is quick to rush into his own room and you’re often the one to wander around the living space before finding your way back to yours. 

So on this random weekend, you’re wondering why there is a soft knock at your door. Kicking the blankets off of your body, you rush over to open your closed bedroom door to reveal a messy bed hair Doyoung in his bunny pajama pants. 

“Hey, good….” Doyoung checks the time on his phone to be sure, lifting one eyebrow at your sleepy expression. “Evening.” 

“What do you want?” You groan, ready to let the door hit him in the face. “I get enough of you at work.” You rub your eyes to rid any junk stuck on your lashes. 

“Since your car is in the shop, I was wondering if you needed a ride to run any errands or to grab food. You haven’t left your room the whole day, so you must be hungry.”  His eyes dart left and right, avoiding eye contact as best as he can. Doyoung looks so sheepish, like a deer caught in headlights.

You can’t help, but laugh. “Aw, are you caring for me right now?” 

His face contours into complete disgust. “Not really. I just don’t want to find your dead body in the apartment and potentially get sued for negligence.”

“Well, I’m not hungry.” In that moment, your body couldn’t have had better timing. Your stomach rumbles loudly and Doyoung just blinks at you until it passes. 

You both break out into laughter, “fine, what are you getting for dinner?”

“There’s a new place in town that I’ve been eyeing. A bit upscale, if you’re down.” Doyoung starts walking toward his room, eyebrow raised and waiting for your confirmation. 

“You’re paying.” You close the door before he could protest. You and Doyoung have shared a few meals together, but nothing consistent. It’s not awkwardness that stops the both of you, but that there really isn’t much to chat about over a plate of food. Besides work, you two don’t share any of the same interests or the same circle of friends. 

On top of that, Doyoung would never open up over a sirloin steak. He barely opens up with a bottle of wine. You’ve given up trying to interrogate him with endless questions about his personal life, he never really asks about yours anyways. 

Though, meals with Doyoung aren’t entirely dreadful. His refined palate and hefty paycheck allows for you a delicious culinary experience. You’d never admit it, but eating with him was much better than eating alone.

Dressing for the occasion, you step out in an entirely new and refreshed vibe. Doyoung nearly chokes at the sight of you, not used to seeing you all dolled up and well, nicely dressed. Unintentionally, the accents of your colors match and Doyoung takes note of it, not throwing much of a fit as he usually would. 

“Matching is not a bad thing.” Doyoung clears his throat, hands slipping into his pressed pants and obvious aversion to eye contact.

“Matching with you it might be.” You snicker, but loved your attire too much to change into something else for the night. Both of you head out for dinner and you catch a whiff of something vibrant as Doyoung follows into his car. 

“New cologne?” The strap of the seat belt rustles in the quiet vehicle. Doyoung doesn’t say anything, turning on the engine and pulling out of the parking space with ease.

There is a long moment of silence, at this point you’ve concluded that he probably completely ignored your question. However, after a few blocks, Doyoung follows up with his own inquiry, “you like it?” 

Raising a brow, you’re finding his behavior quite peculiar tonight. It’s a bit unsettling and rather confusing. “I prefer your usual clean scent. This citrus doesn’t match you.”

Without a word of protest, Doyoung grins to himself at your words. Though, you’re too busy scrolling on your phone and participating in the usual silent atmosphere of the car ride.

“Have you thought of your Halloween costume for the happy hour?” Doyoung delicately cuts into his flank, twirling the piece of meat in the brown gravy that was neatly swirled on the plate.

You shrug, popping the broccolini into your mouth. There hasn’t been much thought about that email since it dropped in your inbox. If anything, you hadn’t even considered the fact that it was already October.  It felt like just yesterday you were on a rooftop bar in the warm summer sunset. 

“Any ideas?” You pat your hands on the cloth napkin on your lap, eyebrow raised toward Doyoung. Not that this man would give you any good ideas, you’re already settling on your last ditch effort costume you always went as during your college years.  

The restaurant is incredibly fancy, way more than you had been anticipating when he had mentioned it being a little upscale. It is moderately loud inside, but nothing above light chatter and the jazz music still audible over the voices. You two had been seated right away, the hostess having starry eyes the moment she saw Doyoung walk in. 

The waiters referred to you with proper titles and offered the wine of the night, placing it in its own separate small table. Anyone could have mistaken you and Doyoung for being a couple on a date, perhaps celebrating an anniversary or a nice date night. 

While at any other occasion you would make it incredibly obvious that isn’t the case, the food is too immaculate for you to care. The tenderness of your meat is melt worthy and the taste of garlic butter hits your palette lovingly. You were too busy indulging in the meal before Doyoung had spoken.

“Maybe something with a mask.” Doyoung responds after a rather long thoughtful silence. 

Your face deadpans, rolling your eyes at how silly it was to even ask him for a serious suggestion. “Ha! So funny.” Your sarcasm bites at his skin.

He flinches slightly at your tone, but places his fork and knife on the white table cloth. He wipes his lips with his napkin, “I’m not saying it to be mean. I meant it as a masquerade.” 

“Why would I wear a mask the whole night in front of our VPs?”

Doyoung shrugs in return, “isn’t the point of Halloween pretending to be someone you’re not? Or trying to hide behind a facade?” 

“That’s too philosophical. Halloween is about tricks, treats and pumpkins.” He laughs at your explanation, bringing the rim of his wine glass to his lips.

“That’s one way to view it.” He unbuttons his cufflinks and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows. Your eyes wander before your mind could remind you it's Doyoung you’re gawking at. “I might go with a mask, like a masked prince of some kind.” 

You laugh, “yeah, I’m sure Daisy will swoon over that.”

Doyoung doesn’t smile, instead he clears his throat uncomfortably. “She has a boyfriend and she’s not going.”

“Aw, I’m sorry to hear that your work crush has been diminished.” You pout, quite insincerely and mockingly. Doyoung scoffs at your statement, rolling his eyes at how he’s willing to entertain this. 

“It was never going to work out anyways. She thought you and I were together.” The statement nearly causes you to choke on your wine. He raises an eyebrow at the slight break in your careless reactions. 

“Wow, it traveled all the way to our receptionist. That’s how you know the whole office practically knows about it.” However, he read it all wrong as you began to speak. Your nonchalant answers bring Doyoung no reassurance as he watches with a quizzical look as you eat your mashed potatoes. 

“Maybe you like the thought of us being together.” Doyoung snickers. He doesn’t mean it, but he did want to shake up the atmosphere to see how playful he can get with you. 

You kick his shin under the table and he lightly jumps, “calm down, prince. Don’t want the commoners to know how much of a narcissist you are.” Narrowing your eyes at him, you grumble. The mashed potato now tasted a bit sour from Doyoung’s jokes. 

“C’mon, seriously? Do you actually think that I’m a narcissist?” Doyoung places a hand on his chest, as if you could be referring to anyone else. He is so dramatic, you think to yourself as you see him tap away a fake tear.

So you decide to be truthful and slightly hurtful, simply because he asked for it. “Yes, I genuinely do at times.” Your powerful tone in your words shocked Doyoung a bit, his head shaking a bit from the actual truth.

“Oh,” He clears his throat awkwardly, halting his playful demeanor. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to come off that way.” This is the first time you’ve seen him completely vulnerable in his apology. It is a sharp difference compared to his usual snarky “my bad” or “oops”. 

The hurt on his face is evident, pursing his lips on the rim of his wine glass and the thoughts flooding his heavy head. A part of you feels guilty, wondering if a line had been drawn. 

“Unfortunately, you’re still a likable person as people say.” You clear your throat and shift nervously in your seat. Doyoung looks up through hood eyes at your compliment, but holds back the grin that itches to form on his lips. 

Something about his gaze almost makes you falter, “why did you choose such a fancy place for dinner?” 

“Because I genuinely wanted to see what this place was all about. I’ve been hearing Greg from Finance brag about how he’s eaten here for the past two weekends.” Doyoung lightly taps the table with his index finger, like a habit he couldn’t grow out of.

“You let Greg of all people talk you into a $200 bill?” You can’t hold the laugh back because of how ridiculously easy Doyoung can be swayed by someone else’s opinions. “And what do you think about dinner tonight?

Doyoung may have mistaken the implication in your question — if there even was one. He halts his rhythmic tapping, sitting up to straight out his wrinkled shirt and gazing upon you right in front of him. 

“Dinner was…” The bill lands on the edge of the table and Doyoung flips open the book with one flick. He breaks focus from you for a quick second to look at the final grand number on the thin piece of paper. You barely get a glimpse, as he places his card down and shuts it swiftly. 

His eyes back fully on you, “most definitely worth it.” The smile on Doyoung’s face isn’t menacing or mockery, you’re completely convinced that it’s a smile meant for you. And, you’re unsure how to interpret the butterflies that flutter at the pit of your stomach. 

As if the day couldn’t get any worse, you walk into work with everyone in some bizarre work appropriate costume and staring at you as if you’re the odd one out. Your costume is in your bag, which Doyoung so graciously let you leave in the trunk of his car before coming in. However, you’re wondering if it's too late to dash back outside to grab it so you fit in with everyone else. 

“Good morning, y/n!” Daisy, a very chirpy and red painted smile, greets you routinely. Cute flower clips line her hair perfectly and the all green attire can only mean one thing: she is a flower. “What’s your costume?”

Laughing nervously, you’re finding a way out of this small talk. “It’s a surprise! You’ll see when we all leave for happy hour tonight.”

“I might be going before then, but please stop by if you have the time to get it on earlier.” She happily smiles, bidding you a small “have a good day!” before returning her focus back to her screen.

The elevator stops on your floor and it’s as if Jack Skellington came overnight and vomited Halloween all over the cubicles. There always has to be that one coworker who is obsessed with the holiday and they lovingly decorated the office before everyone came in. Including yours and Doyoung’s cubicle.

You’re awkwardly shuffling past your coworkers, saying small good mornings and getting weird looks. However, you’re trying very hard to not draw attention to being the only one not dressed up. A tiny baby pumpkin sits in front of your monitor and a neatly wrapped ghost cookie with your name written on a post it note awaits you. 

“Good morning!” Your coworker’s head pops from over the wall and incites a startled scream from you. Of course, she’s laughing giddily at successfully scaring the living out of you. 

“Hey Mariel, good morning. Did you make these?” There is no second guessing who else would be this enthusiastic about Halloween than Mariel is. She talked your ear off the day it hit October 1st about ghouls, goblins, and ghosts.

She even had a spooky countdown calendar of the days until the 31st. On top of that, she was the only one overly excited about the Halloween happy hour the moment the email hit everyone’s inbox.

“Of course. I do a baking side gig, I had to bring in a few spooky friendly treats for everyone in office!” She rests her chin on her palm and squints her eyes at you, “where’s your costume?”

Your palms immediately get sweaty. It’s like disappointing a kid on Christmas by telling them that Santa isn’t real or your mom buying you a nice and modest dress for graduation, but you accidentally stain it. The nervousness to answer creeps up your throat and before you can speak, a voice answers for you.

“Isn’t it classic of y/n to dress up as an office worker?” Doyoung stands up in his cubicle to interject himself in the conversation. 

Mariel nearly loses a lung from how hard she laughs at Doyoung’s corny attempt at a joke. “It’s actually classic of the both of you to not wear your costumes to work.” She adds, wiping the tears from her crinkled eyes. “What’s next? Matching costumes?” 

“Mariel, it’s a surprise.” Doyoung plays it off smoothly.

“Let me guess, Barbie and Ken?” She taps the counter, like a buzzer on a game show to lock in her answer. You’re already shaking your head and Mariel frowns.

Doyoung sighs loudly and dramatically, “I know, Mar. I’d be such a good Barbie, but y/n didn’t want to give that to me.” Oh god, he’s good.

You laugh along, stiffly. “Well, that was the end of our potential matching costumes. We went our separate ways and you’ll see mine later today.” It is enough to get Mariel off of your back about not dressing up at work. Hurrying to settle your things, Doyoung walks around to your side. 

“Did you see how beautiful Daisy looked?” He muses, daydreaming about the whimsical fantasy of the office receptionist. “Must be a lucky guy.”

“She looks like a true flower.” You’re mindlessly unloading your essentials from your work bag and only half listening to Doyoung ramble. “Damn it, I left my coffee in your car.” Throwing your hands up in frustration, you’re already running late for your first meeting of the day with your supervisor. 

Doyoung doesn’t wait a second to push you back into your seat, thinking you could make a quick sprint if he had handed you his keys. “I’ll get it for you. Patricia already asked about your whereabouts.” He smoothly reaches over your shoulder to grab your laptop, the usual scent of his clean cologne brushes your nostrils lightly as the distance between you closes briefly. 

Your heart is pounding in your ears at the proximity, looking up at Doyoung’s long exposed neckline with his collarbones barely peeking out from his linen shirt. Under this dreary fluorescent office lighting, Doyoung looks rather dreamy. 

Nonetheless, you shake off this sudden and weird daydream when he hands you your laptop and makes his merry way to get you your coffee. You’ve got to be losing your mind, the mundane suffocating atmosphere of an office space is causing you to seek any thrills. You’re being delusional. You could never have feelings for Doyoung, of all the people, never Doyoung.

You come back from your meeting to your coffee neatly placed next to your monitor on a coaster and your bag with your costume in your chair. Silently, you grab your tote and rush off to the bathroom to change before anyone could notice your appearance and sudden disappearance. 

It wasn’t an extravagant costume and it was most definitely not the store bought ones from a pop-up Spirit shop. A black cat has been your go-to DIY last minute costume since college for those rendezvous frat parties or a drunk Halloween night out with your friends. Since it had to be work appropriate, a sexy black cat is out of the picture. 

Smoothing the strands of your hair to adjust the cat ear headband, you give yourself small whiskers with your black eyeliner. “Here’s to Halloween.” A small grumble to yourself, you’re out of the bathroom and briskly walking between cubicles in your slightly form fitting all black attire. 

Your head down and laying low, hoping that Mariel doesn’t notice your costume before you get to your own corner. Making it down the runway, Doyoung’s back is turned and completely working his life away. Somehow, your presence behind him causes a breakaway and he’s spinning around before you could hide back into your cubicle. 

“Thanks, Doyoung.” A small murmur escapes, but Doyoung hears you loud and clear. He doesn’t say anything, instead, his eyes rapidly take in your figure and change of attire. The cat ears on your head cause him to blush, something he didn’t know you could do to him so easily.

“A recurring costume, I’ll admit it’s better than my mask idea.” He gestures, awkwardly clearing his throat at the weird tension that rose from his obvious gawking. 

You’re puzzled, “I can’t recall a time you would’ve seen me like this.” It’s true, you two never spent a Halloween together since you had moved in with him and perhaps, those drunk college nights are too hazy for you to be too sure of yourself.

Doyoung chuckles to himself, peering down at his hands as he delightfully remembers the vivid memory of him catching a glimpse of you for the first time. “Halloween, third year. It was at the NCT yearly ‘Monster Mash’ party. I saw you briefly in the kitchen, looking through the empty bottles of liquor for a drink.”

Then it hits you! That was the night that you had arrived late to the party and almost ditched when there was no more booze left, but you encountered Jaehyun.

“That was so long ago! Wow,” your finger resting on your chin and looking back on the good ole times, “I can’t believe you remembered something like that.” Your voice grows smaller at the end of your sentence, full realization hitting you that Doyoung has known you before you had known him. He kept that memory to himself all these years.

Doyoung, also equally as shocked, feels caught in headlights. Nonetheless, something in his heart wants to open up to you and this feels like an open door opportunity. However, he isn’t sure if he is ready to ruin the dynamic the two of you share. What if he opens more than you’d take? One foot in the door, he can’t imagine this fleeting feeling would come again.

“I couldn’t get you out of my head that night.” He wholeheartedly admits and a heavy tug pulls at your heart. Your jaw drops slightly at his confession and your thoughts are running at godspeed. Doyoung’s heart is pounding in his ears. 

Before you could say anything, Mariel is walking back to her cubicle and is quick to address your costume. You’re half hearing her, mind still stuck on Doyoung’s words and wondering how differently your lives would have been if Doyoung had approached you that night instead of Jaehyun. What could have been? 

Rustic wooden panels cover the walls of The 127 Bar and Restaurant, giving it that upscale cabin/lodge-feel. Cobwebs lined with plastic spiders and pumpkins with ghoul expressions litter the corners of the counters. Festive Halloween music is muffled by the loud ambiance of chatter. You’re already counting down the hour of when it's socially acceptable for you to leave. 

Coworkers dressed in costumes is a silly concept to you, mainly because you don’t associate anything fun with work and you definitely don’t want to see your coworkers in anything else besides their slacks and button ups. Doyoung, however, beats that exception as he walks in with a black velvet cape and fake blood dribble down his chin. His suit vest is surely something straight out of his own wardrobe and there is way too much hair gel slicked in his hair.

“A vampire fits you much better than a masked prince.” Whether it is meant as an insult or a compliment, Doyoung smiles at your comment. 

“A black cat and a vampire, can we be any more cheery?” Doyoung says sarcastically, earning a small laugh as you look upon your very dark attires for the night.

Shrugging, you lightly pat his shoulder to guide him toward the VPs. “We all can’t be Daisy. She takes the cake for having optimism in this cruel corporate world. Now, let’s go get our attendance points so we can leave earlier.”

“A black cat mind reader? That elevates your costume a bit.” Doyoung smirks, leading the way to a doomful 15 minute conversation with important people. 

Doyoung surprises you by how social he can get. You two normally attend the usual happy hours that your coworkers like to have after work, but that is mostly among a few that sit on your floor. This mixer included every department and Doyoung jumps conversation to the next with ease and speed, you could hardly keep up.

“Okay, social butterfly. I haven’t heard you talk so much since college club meetings.” Raising an eyebrow, you’re stopping Doyoung from approaching another coworker dressed as a skeleton. 

“I haven’t seen you this quiet in a while. What’s wrong? Cat’s got your tongue?” He blinks at you with a dull expression.

Suddenly, you’re feeling self-conscious at how he noticed your silence. “Corporate happy hours aren’t my thing. I don’t particularly have interests with any of these people.” 

Doyoung purses his lips, “yet you seem to talk endlessly with me and we have nothing in common.” 

Clearing your throat, you’re unsure of this strange feeling in your chest. You and Doyoung have commonality in background – school, clubs, mutuals, profession – but interests seem to be way far out of scope for the two of you. While the few dinners you two would share are rather silent, it doesn’t eat you alive the same way corporate social events do. Despite the forced close proximity, you don’t know if you and Doyoung would actually be friends with each other. 

“Right, but it’s different for us.” Trying to save the sinking ship seems harder to do as you rack your brain for an argument. 

Doyoung tilts his head slightly, “different? How is it different?” In that moment, there is a shift in his demeanor as he tucks his hands into his pants pockets and leans back slightly on his heels. A hooded stare, eyebrow raised, and a smug smirk waits to hear how your relationship with Kim Doyoung is so different compared to your other coworkers. 

Feeling small under his gaze, you’re wondering why a heat travels across your cheeks. The Halloween music and robust atmosphere are completely tuned out at this point. “We have common things to talk about besides work, like mutuals! I don’t know– you just get me. Lately, I feel like you’ve been opening up a bit more.”

Doyoung nearly beams hearing the last part of your ramble because he feels exactly the same. You just get him, despite always being at each other’s throats. He knows that this banter would not work with anyone else, it had to be you.

It’s like with each interaction, you get closer to the key in unlocking everything about him. Without your knowledge, he so badly wishes you to be the one to find it. 

“Hey you two!” Greg from Finance wraps his arms around Doyoung’s shoulders, appearing rather abruptly and startling the both of you. “How was your date at Bodega 127?” 

Your eyeballs nearly fall out of your socket at the word date being thrown carelessly when referring to you and Doyoung. Doyoung reacts quite nervously and is shocked as well at the odd choice of wording Greg decided to use. 

“I wouldn’t call it a date...” Doyoung chuckles, exchanging anxious glances with you. 

“Yeah, we’re not together.” You jump in with Doyoung at denying such a bold accusation. 

“Oh, come on! There’s no need to feel embarrassed. The whole office knows already, what’s the point in trying to hide it?” Greg continues to poke the bear. 

“I can see how it might come off that way, but Doyoung and I aren’t into each other like that.” Your eyes bounce between a skittish Doyoung and an overly-pushy Greg. “Right, Doyoung, you don’t like me that way?” You’re begging him with your stare, but for some reason, Doyoung hesitates long enough for you to notice.

“Uh yeah. We’re just coworkers.” He averts making eye contact with you and you’re thrown off your tracks at how off-putting he is being. You’re trying to hold back the confusion from showing on your face, but Greg takes the bait.

“Okay, I’ll stop berating you two about your relationship. But when Doyoung told me he brought you there, I will say I thought it was for a date night y’all were having. It’s that type of restaurant experience, y’know?” Greg lightly pats Doyoung on the back before walking off to chat with another group of coworkers. 

You’re standing still next to Doyoung and wondering why the fuck he hesitated when you asked him such an easy question. He doesn’t look your way, gaze remains glued to the floor.

“I think we should leave now.” He says, dashing toward Patricia to let her know of your exits. A sigh escapes your body, completely confused and lost at every feeling roaming in your chest.

The drive back home is completely silent. The elephant in the room becomes bigger at every stoplight. Most of the trip is you staring out the window, trying to process the last few scenes at the happy hour. Doyoung remains focused on the drive, so much that he forgets to put music on to distract from the stiffness in the air. 

When you two finally make it back up to the apartment, you’re the first to break the awkward silence. “Hey, uh– thanks for driving me around these past few days. The car shop told me that my car is ready tomorrow, so I won’t need to carpool with you anymore.”

He nods, despite the long sinking feeling of his heart reaching the bottom of his stomach. He has had so much fun with you lately being around him, he isn’t sure if he’s ready to go back to how things were — living so separately in the same place.

“Sorry about Greg.” Doyoung rubs the back of his neck, “I didn’t know he would say something like that.” He gently wipes off the dried fake blood on his chin.

“We’re used to it, right?” The airy, lightness in your tone puzzles Doyoung. “At least he was courageous enough to actually address it to our faces instead of contributing to the gossip in the office.” 

“He’s just a big idiot.” Doyoung unties his cape and tosses it over the couch. “I shouldn’t have told him we went together.”

It somewhat offended you, “what? You don’t want to be seen with me or something?” You toss your headband onto the dining room table, fixing your hair back to its normal state.

However, Doyoung perks up at the evident tone in your voice and the scorn in your expression. “It’s not that.” 

“You know, Doyoung, you have been really confusing lately.” There is a pause before you continue, wondering how you should word this without sounding so rash.

“First, you’re knocking on my door and asking me to dinner. Then, you’re getting me my coffee from the car. And, you hesitated back there when I said you didn’t like me and our conversations recently have been different, so open ended.” 

Doyoung leans against the couch, arms crossed and  intently listening to your speech. “Are you implying that I have feelings for you?”

He sounds so snarky that it causes your skin to crawl, frustration fuels your soul at how delusional he is making you seem. “I’m just stating the facts.” 

Doyoung scoffs, arms falling back to his sides. A minute passes, but it feels nearly like forever given the silence in the room and how his eyes are glued to the ground, full of contemplation. However, not just any careless amount of contemplation, but real and genuine assessment on how he has felt over the past two weeks with you.

He opens his mouth to speak, but falls short of formulating a coherent sentence and feels a bit choked up and confused by himself. Though, you’ve been standing there and waiting for him and the silence has made you incredibly uncomfortable. “It’s a reach. There’s no possible way for you to harbor any feelings for me. We made that really clear to each other.” 

You’re turning to hide back into your room, but Doyoung quickly stands at your door frame, alert and before you. “It’s not entirely a reach….” He mumbles, “I can’t say confidently that I have true and full romantic feelings toward you, but I have been seeing you in a romantic light.” 

“I don’t fully understand what you mean.” Your eyebrows knit together, finding that his speech sounds too much like a riddle. 

He takes a deep breath in, exhaling to calm the waking nerves in his throat. “I’m beginning to understand that some of what I feel towards you is romantic, like I don’t want to stop being around you or I want to go out of my way to do things that make your life easier.” He smirks coyly to himself, breaking the intense exchange of dialogue between the both of you briefly, “I’m an acts of service kind of guy.” 

“Look, I’m saying that yes, I think I’m starting to have feelings for you. It wasn’t until recently did I feel like we’ve really gotten to spend time together after you’ve moved in.” His shoulders drop, “and I don’t know, I just– like you said, you just get me.”

This moment between the both of you is so real. There are no gimmicks, no foul play, no teasing and banter. Doyoung means every word he is saying. While a part of you wants to joke around and say something snarky, the other part of you feels serious and rather shocked at this confession.

Never in your mind did the potential of Doyung catering feelings toward you exist. And now, even more than ever, you’re actually reflecting on your own thoughts toward him. Doyoung is the first person you want to go to in a crowded room, it’s like you’re searching for him without realizing it. He’s the one you want to rely on, knowing how capable and responsible he is. Doyoung, given the chance, can really brighten up the room. 

If there was anyone in this world he chose to open up to, you wanted it to be you. 

“Can I kiss you?” Doyoung almost stopped himself from saying it, but he had to know. Your eyes are beyond huge at his request, the sound of thumping in your chest growing in your ears.

“What?” You croak, taken aback by this random out-of-character question. Doyoung’s cheeks are as bright red as a tomato, but he doesn’t break his intense eye contact. 

“Kiss me, I want to know if my feelings are real.” He steps a bit closer with lips parted slightly, rosy cheeks, and dilated pupils. Your shaky hands slowly reach to cup his face and there the beating of your heart quickens, fast enough to where you think you could faint. 

“If we kiss and neither of us feel anything, we’ll pretend it never happened.” You’re trying to cushion any chance at rejection, so that it wouldn’t end in complete disappointment from either one of you. It’s to soften the blow. 

Nevertheless, Doyoung nods in your hot hands and brings your chin close with the pull of his finger. Your lips pucker and land gently on his, your eyes still wide open and you’re in utter shock that Kim Doyoung, the man you thought you’d never kiss, is now kissing you. 

It’s as if fuel added to a flame, the fire in your stomach grows violently at this connection. Doyoung swears he could feel a sudden spark in his tight chest, electricity running in veins.

He pulls away and the contact between you two breaks as quick as it connected. He simply blinks at you, with a cute doe-eyed expression and red cheeks. You’re blinking back, heart in your throat and a desire to kiss him again. 

“Are your feelings real?” You ask him a question you’re scared to know the answer to, worried that he didn’t feel that same fire as you did from that kiss and he’d ask to pretend it never happened.

“Real, absolutely real.” Doyoung confirms with a breathy speech. He can’t pinpoint how long these feelings have been locked away and how long he has ignored them. Nonetheless, that kiss proves so much to himself, one being that he is way more head over heels for you than he thought. 

And the next course of action he chooses may ruin your current dynamic completely, but he fully and utterly wants to commit to you. He doesn’t tell you, worried that it may scare you off when he only wishes to hold you close.

The two of you stare into each other’s eyes for a brief moment of silence with tensions high and hearts beating fast. Both are unaware of how to proceed without making things awkward or shifting too greatly from your banterful friendship. 

So, Doyoung eases in with a request so telling, but gentle enough for the two of you to agree upon. “Let me drive you to work from now on.” 

Your eyes glimmer with a shine, clearing your throat before you speak. “Is this about our carbon footprint or something else?”

He chuckles, “we’re saving the Earth while I also get to spend more time getting to know you, it sounds like a win - win situation to me.” 

“And the rumors?” 

Doyoung leans down to whisper gently into your ear, “let them think what they want.” The same shivers that ran through your body before had returned, but accompanied with butterflies dancing lovingly in your stomach.

Strange how two weeks ago, you thought that the possibility of romantically being with Doyoung was close to none and the best way to describe the two of you was that you just coexisted together. But, here you two are: standing in the middle of your shared living room with sparkling eyes for each other and a newfound excitement for a new relationship, more than just coexisting.