#let me know!! or i’ll try to make one myself and it’ll look like a bad ripoff of the writers one

[ash-and-starlight]

is there a “year wrapped” ask game for artists around already or do i have to do everything myself around here

[solxamber]

One Date and a Lifetime: Leona Kingscholar x reader

You have chosen Leona! ; aka the times Leona-i-don't-care Kingscholar puts in effort for you;

1k masterlist ; Prologue

You never thought Leona would actually take this date seriously. Honestly, when you first call him, you half expect him to suggest, "Let's just take a nap or something." Instead, his voice is low and smug, almost purring through the phone.

“Sure. I’ll pick you up later. Be ready.”

And just like that, he hangs up before you can ask for specifics. Typical. You're prepared for some half-hearted effort involving him dragging you to a secluded spot to nap under the stars or something like that. But then, a knock sounds at the door of Ramshackle, and there stands Ruggie with a bouquet.

“These are from Leona,” Ruggie says with a grin that’s two parts mischievous, one part disbelief. “He told me to get the ‘good ones,’ whatever that means. I charged him double, by the way.”

You take the flowers, cheeks warming, trying not to feel too charmed by the fact that the laziest lion you know thought to send you flowers. “Compensation good?”

“Let’s just say I’m eating like royalty tonight.” Ruggie winks before scampering off, probably with plans to milk his housewarden’s generosity for the rest of the week.

When Leona finally arrives at your doorstep, you're stunned into silence. He’s dressed to kill, sharp black slacks, a sleek button-up rolled at the sleeves. Effortlessly regal.

"You..." You blink. "You’re somehow even prettier than usual. How is that fair?"

He grumbles, averting his gaze, but you catch the way his chest puffs out just a little. “Tch. Cut it out.”

“Admit it—you love the compliments,” you tease, looping your arm around his as you step outside.

Leona scoffs but doesn’t pull away. “You gonna keep flattering me all night, or are we leaving?”

And so begins the wildest date you could have imagined: Leona, the notorious nap king, escorting you to a local festival, of all things.

You glance up at him as you stroll through the brightly lit stalls. “I thought you hated crowds.”

“I do,” he replies, but then adds in a gruff mutter, “It’s fine if it’s with you.”

Your heart skips a beat. You're lucky he looks so good because you might’ve fainted on the spot otherwise.

At one of the stalls, you spot a mountain of cotton candy, pastel pink and blue fluff that looks like it’ll melt if you so much as breathe on it. You buy a stick and tear off a piece, holding it up to Leona.

“C’mon, try it.”

He eyes the sugary fluff suspiciously. “That’s just sugar and air.”

“Exactly. Now open up.”

With an exaggerated groan, Leona leans down, and you pop the piece into his mouth. His brow furrows as he chews. “Way too sweet.”

But the next time you hold up another piece, he still eats it, grumbling under his breath about “sugar addicts.” You don’t miss the tiny, fond smile that sneaks onto his face, though.

As you continue through the festival, you spot a prize stall lined with plushies, including a little dragon that immediately catches your eye.

“I need that,” you say, determination sparking.

You try... and fail. Repeatedly. Leona watches your attempts with a smirk, arms crossed like he’s enjoying the show.

When you lose for the fifth time, he sighs dramatically. “Move.”

He steps up to the game and, with one smooth flick of his wrist, nails it on the first try. But instead of the dragon plush, he gives the attendant a lazy grin. “The lion.”

When he hands you the lion plush, you stare at it, confused. “What happened to the dragon?”

“Lions are better,” Leona says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “No debate.”

Despite yourself, you can’t help but smile. It’s ridiculous, but it’s him, and somehow that makes it perfect.

Later, when he takes you to an absurdly expensive restaurant, you raise an eyebrow. “Are you sure about this? It’s... kind of pricey.”

He gives you a flat look. “Order whatever you want. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

So, naturally, you do. And the food is fantastic. Leona leans back in his chair, watching you with a lazy smirk as you happily dig into your meal.

When the date winds down and Leona walks you back to Ramshackle, the night air is cool, and you instinctively rub your arms. Without a word, Leona shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders.

You clutch onto his arm with a grin, snuggling into the warmth. “Thanks, Leona.”

He shakes his head, amused. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“Of course you do.” You laugh, leaning against him. “Oh! Did I tell you what Ace and Deuce did earlier today? You won’t believe it.”

He humors you as you chatter away, recounting the latest shenanigans. “So, Grim decided to ‘supervise,’ which really just meant eating half the snacks while Ace accidentally set off the fire alarm—again.”

Leona snorts softly. “Idiots.”

“Yeah, but they’re my idiots.”

When you finally reach Ramshackle’s doorstep, you turn to face him, a little reluctant for the night to end. On a whim, you step forward and wrap your arms around him, hugging him tightly before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Leona freezes for half a second, and when you pull away, his expression is somewhere between surprised and utterly smitten.

“Goodnight, Leona,” you say softly, watching as he blinks down at you like you just shattered every lazy expectation he had about this date.

He clears his throat, looking away, but you catch the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah... night.”

As he turns to leave, you can’t help but feel like you’ve just unlocked a whole new side of him—and you kind of love it.

You’ve been talking about this video game figure for weeks. Every time you hang out with Leona, he hears about it. Well, "hang out" is a generous term—he naps on your lap or leans against you, and you yap his ear off about how amazing the game is and how this figure is the holy grail of limited merch.

“I’ve been doing everything,” you rant one day, lying next to him in the botanical garden. “Crowley made me do ten extra assignments this week. I even agreed to clean Grim’s litter box without arguments—twice! But it’s worth it. If I get that figure, my life will be complete.”

Leona, who’s half-asleep with his head resting on your shoulder, cracks an eye open. “That good, huh?”

“Yes, that good. There are only ten in the world, Leona. Ten.”

He grunts, shifting a little to get more comfortable. “Better hope your luck’s good, herbivore. Sounds like a lotta effort for a toy.”

“It’s not a toy,” you huff dramatically. “It’s a collectible figure, and it’s the coolest thing in existence. Just wait—when it drops tomorrow, I’m getting it.”

And yet, the universe doesn’t care about your efforts.

You stare at your phone screen in disbelief the next day. The site crashes, the countdown ends, and the figure sells out in 0.2 seconds flat. You refresh. Then refresh again. But it’s gone—snatched from your grasp like a mirage in the desert.

“No... no, no, no.” You sit there, devastated, as the weight of your failure sinks in. After all the work, all the chores, and all the emotional speeches to Leona, you’ve been denied. The limited-edition figure remains forever out of reach.

By the time you see Leona later, your mood is somewhere between tragic despair and begrudging acceptance. You find him lounging in the garden again, his favorite napping spot.

“Didn’t get it, huh?” he asks, his voice carrying that lazy drawl as you flop down beside him.

“Nope,” you sigh, resting your forehead on your knees. “All that work, all that hope... and nothing.”

Without another word, Leona pulls something from behind him and chucks it onto your lap.

You blink. Then blink again.

It’s the figure. The figure. THE limited-edition figure you’ve been pining after for weeks.

“Leona???” you squawk, holding it up like it might vanish into thin air if you let go. “What—how—why—?”

He just shrugs. “Still the second prince, y’know.”

“You—" Your jaw drops. “Did you use royalty status to get me this figure?!”

“Yeah.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like he just asked the palace cook to make toast instead of pulling strings for a rare collector’s item.

You gape at him, torn between disbelief and giddiness. “Leona... that’s cheating.”

“So?” He leans back with a satisfied smirk, clearly amused by your reaction. “You wanted it, didn’t you?”

You can’t help it—you burst into laughter, clutching the figure like it’s the greatest treasure ever gifted to you. “You’re impossible.”

Leona tugs you down beside him, trapping you in his arms. “Yeah, yeah. Now quit yappin’ and let me nap.”

Still grinning like a fool, you curl into him, giggling into his hair. “You’re way too good to me, you know that?”

He huffs, but there’s no hiding the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His hand rests lazily against your back, warm and grounding. “Hmph. Lucky I like you.”

And just like that, he drifts off into sleep, his arms snug around you. And you? You lie there, feeling like the happiest person alive, hugging your figure close while Leona naps against you, his soft breaths the perfect lullaby.

The first sign something is wrong comes when Grim tries waking you up for your usual chaos-filled day.

“Hey, get up, henchhuman! We’ve got things to do!” he says, poking your cheek with one of his fluffy paws. “It’s already late! If Crowley gets mad, I ain’t takin' the fall!”

Normally, you’d groan and roll out of bed—or at least threaten Grim with chores—but today? All you can manage is a weak grunt before you flop back onto your pillow like a defeated pancake.

“Henchhuman?” Grim nudges you again, this time with more urgency. You crack one eye open just long enough to see his ears flatten in concern. “Oi, don’t ignore me—what’s wrong?”

Your head is heavy, and it feels like your bones have melted into jelly. You try to say I think I’m dying, but all that comes out is a sad, congested whimper.

Grim’s eyes widen, and suddenly, he’s a blur of blue fur and panic. “You’re dying!” he yells, as if confirming the worst-case scenario. “Don’t go toward the light, henchhuman! I’ll be right back—stay alive!!”

Before you can reassure him—or at least remind him that people don’t die from mild fevers—Grim is already out the door, paws skidding against the floor like a tiny tornado.

Somewhere across campus, Leona is enjoying a particularly satisfying mid-morning nap in the botanical gardens when an absolute menace of a furball barrels into him.

“HEY, YOU! Lion guy!” Grim shouts, climbing onto Leona's chest. “Get up! Henchhuman’s dying!”

Leona cracks open one bleary eye. “Dying?” he repeats with a skeptical grunt, already half-expecting Grim to be overreacting. “Probably just overslept.”

“I know the difference between sleeping and dying!” Grim shrieks, paws batting at Leona’s face. “They're burning up, can’t even sit up! You gotta do something!”

Leona grumbles under his breath, but he’s on his feet before Grim can push him again. The usual lazy slouch is gone, replaced by swift, purposeful movements.

By the time he strides into your room, Leona has already called his personal doctor, much to Ruggie’s dismay (“Do you know what time it is?! Do I get paid overtime for this??”). Leona doesn’t care. He’s moving fast—like a lion with a mission.

It’s a blur after that. You vaguely register a cool hand against your burning forehead, Leona’s voice a low rumble beside you. The doctor checks your pulse, takes your temperature, and declares it’s just a fever with some exhaustion thrown in. Nothing dangerous, but definitely enough to flatten you.

“Hah.” Leona lets out a short sigh of relief, slumping in the chair beside your bed. “Told ya Grim, not dead.”

“Yeah, well…” Grim’s still pacing at the edge of your bed, tail twitching in frustration. “They looked dead, okay?! How was I supposed to know?”

“You weren’t. That’s why I’m here,” Leona says flatly, though his tone is less irritated than usual.

The next few hours pass in a fog of sleep, soft voices, and the occasional pressure of something cool against your skin. Ruggie swings by every now and then to drop off food, grinning as he deposits soup and medicine like it’s some kind of delivery service.

“Man, if I knew babysitting was part of my job description, I’d have charged extra,” Ruggie teases, setting down a tray.

Leona just rolls his eyes. “Get lost, hyena.”

Despite his usual snark, Leona is surprisingly attentive. He makes sure you drink water, feeds you spoonfuls of soup even when you mumble protests, and keeps an arm draped lazily around you when you shiver. If anyone asks, he’ll say it’s just because you’re annoying and need constant supervision.

When you finally come to, it’s because something warm and heavy is curled against you. You blink a few times, head still foggy, and realize it’s Leona—completely sprawled across the chair next to your bed, but with one hand tightly clasping yours.

You smile, warmth blooming in your chest at the sight of him. Carefully, you nudge closer, nestling against his arm. The movement stirs him awake, his golden eyes blinking down at you groggily.

“You awake now?” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.

“Barely,” you whisper, squeezing his hand. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

Leona grunts, but the way his thumb brushes over your knuckles is answer enough.

Just as you’re about to fully enjoy the peace, a loud, dramatic voice cuts through the moment.

“Finally!” Grim bursts into the room, leaping onto your bed. “Took you long enough to wake up! I thought I’d have to hire a priest or somethin’!”

You chuckle softly, the sound a little scratchy. “Didn’t know you cared that much.”

“Pfft! As if.” Grim crosses his arms, looking away with a huff. “I just didn’t wanna be stuck with Crowley as my only companion. He’s useless.”

But despite his words, Grim scrambles onto your lap anyway, curling up against your chest with a grumble. “Don’t get sick again, okay? It’s a pain.”

You pet his fur, grinning as you feel him relax. “Okay, okay. No more dying.”

Leona shifts beside you, rolling his eyes. “What, am I invisible?”

“Shh,” you murmur, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Just let me enjoy my two favorite cats for a minute.”

Leona huffs, but there’s a flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I'm not a cat. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”

You grin back at him, and for once, you don’t need words to say thank you. He knows.

You like to think of yourself as a strong person. Someone who can hold their own in this chaotic, magic-ridden school where everything from magical accidents to actual ghost attacks is a typical Tuesday. You’ve handled your fair share of weird situations and even gotten through them without embarrassing yourself too badly. But… you are still a magicless human. And that’s a fact you can’t change.

So when three tall, muscle-bound Savanaclaw students corner you in a dimly-lit corridor on your way to visit Leona, your heart sinks.

"Where ya headin', little herbivore?" The biggest one grins, flashing sharp teeth that remind you just how much worse your day could get.

“Leona’s been hanging out with you a lot, huh?” another one sneers, blocking your path. “Think that makes you special or something?”

"Maybe they've got some kind of deal with him," the third one suggests, his voice dripping with mockery. "How about you tell us what’s really going on between you two?"

Your stomach twists, but you keep your face neutral. No way are you going to let them see how nervous you are. "How about you back off before you embarrass yourselves?" you say, proud of how steady your voice sounds.

The tallest one leans in, his grin widening. “Look at you, acting all tough. Too bad there’s no magic in that mouth of yours.”

You force yourself to hold your ground, though your fingers twitch toward your pocket. You really don’t want to bother Leona, but… well, desperate times. With a quick, discreet motion, you send a single SOS text.

You: Cornered. Help.

The three of them are still jeering at you when you hear footsteps approaching from behind. Slow, measured, and heavy with the kind of weight that makes everyone in the hallway tense.

"Oi," a familiar, low growl cuts through the noise like a hot knife through butter.

All three of them freeze. You glance over your shoulder—and there he is. Leona Kingscholar.

He stands at the end of the corridor, his usual lazy posture replaced by something much sharper, much more dangerous. His emerald eyes gleam with a warning, and a sly, predatory smile spreads across his face.

"Seems like I showed up just in time." His voice is deceptively calm, almost bored. “What do you think you're doin'?”

The boys shift uncomfortably, exchanging nervous glances.

"Just… chatting," one of them stammers, the earlier bravado leaking out of him like air from a punctured balloon.

Leona steps forward, leisurely, as if he’s in no hurry—but there’s something about the way he carries himself that makes the air heavy with tension. His presence fills the space, demanding attention and submission.

"You must be real stupid," Leona drawls, "if you think you can mess with what’s mine."

The tallest boy blanches. “W-We didn’t mean—”

Leona’s grin sharpens, all teeth. "Didn’t mean to what? Annoy me? Make me waste my time on some sad, third-string rejects?"

They flinch, shrinking under the weight of his words. Leona isn’t yelling. He doesn’t have to. His authority is clear—absolute.

One of them mumbles an apology, and the others nod hurriedly, ready to slink away. But Leona’s not done.

“You ever try this again,” he says, his voice dropping into a dangerous purr, “I won’t just kick you out of Savanaclaw. I’ll bury you so deep, nobody’ll even remember your names.”

The boys scatter without another word, practically tripping over each other to escape.

Leona watches them go with a snort, then turns his gaze to you. His sharp expression softens just a fraction, the predatory edge giving way to something lazier—something almost… fond.

“You good?” he asks, as if he didn’t just verbally annihilate three guys on your behalf.

Your heart is racing, but not from fear. No, this is something else entirely. Something far more dangerous. You’re not sure when it happened, but you are completely, utterly smitten.

“Yeah,” you say, trying—and failing—not to sound starstruck.

He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you tease, a grin tugging at your lips.

“Like you’re impressed.”

“Oh, but I am.”

He grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck, but you notice the faintest hint of color creeping up his ears. “Tch. Idiot.”

You laugh softly, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Thanks for showing up, though.”

Leona shrugs like it’s nothing. "I told ya—just call me when you need me."

That does it. You feel yourself practically glowing at the simple promise, the quiet reassurance beneath his words.

You lean toward him, your grin widening. “What if I need you right now?”

He smirks, draping a lazy arm over your shoulders. “Then I guess I’m stuck with you.”

You let yourself melt into his side, the earlier tension gone like a bad dream. The two of you walk off together, his arm comfortably slung over you like it belongs there.

And, in that moment, you’re pretty sure it does.

The assignment in front of you is a nightmare.

You’ve been staring at the same page for what feels like hours, your head throbbing with frustration. You chew the end of your pen, tapping your foot anxiously against the floor. Why did you leave this for the last minute? Why does it feel like every word on the page is written in an ancient, cursed script meant specifically to drain your soul?

Meanwhile, Leona is draped over you like a weighted blanket, his head resting comfortably on your shoulder. You know he’s napping because of the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing. This man has zero care in the world.

He’s been napping while you’ve been spiraling. Because of course he is.

You mutter curses under your breath, willing the assignment to finish itself. But the numbers swim in front of your eyes, and your breaths grow shorter, more unsteady. Panic claws at the edges of your mind.

Leona stirs. He shifts just slightly, cracking open one eye to glance at you. “Oi,” he grumbles. “Stop breathin’ like you’re about to pass out.”

You ignore him and grip the pen tighter, heart pounding, trying to push through the stress. That’s the worst part about this assignment—if you don’t finish it, your grades will nosedive, and Crowley will never let you hear the end of it.

Suddenly, Leona's hand slips out from around you and snatches the pen from your grip. "Gimme that."

You blink as he pulls the paper closer.

"Leona, what are you—"

"Shh." He flips through the pages like they personally offended him. His eyes scan the questions with the kind of effortless ease that makes you want to scream in frustration. Without so much as a sigh, he picks up the pen and starts writing.

You can only sit there, dumbfounded, as his neat, surprisingly elegant handwriting fills in the answers you’ve been struggling with for hours.

"Wait—are you actually doing my homework?" you ask, staring at him in disbelief.

He glances at you from the corner of his eye, the barest hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “Told ya. I'm a senior. This stuff’s easy."

"Easy for you, maybe."

“Then why didn’t you ask me earlier?” he drawls, finishing the last answer without breaking a sweat.

You blink at the completed assignment like it might disappear if you look away. "I… didn’t think to."

Leona rolls his eyes and tosses the pen onto the desk with a lazy flick of his wrist. “Next time, just ask. I ain't gonna let you stress yourself out over dumb stuff.”

And that’s it. Just like that, all your anxiety evaporates.

You turn to look at him, utterly smitten once again. "You're ridiculous."

He leans back, resting his head against your shoulder again with a satisfied sigh. “Yeah, yeah.”

You let yourself melt into him, the earlier panic now a distant memory. His warmth, his steady breathing, the way his arms rest loosely around you—it all feels so easy. So right.

For a moment, you just sit there in silence, the peaceful kind that feels rare and precious. The assignment is finished. The world isn't ending. You don’t have to do everything alone.

You tilt your head to rest against his, your smile soft. "Thanks, Leona."

"Mm," he hums, already halfway back to sleep. But his hand gives yours a lazy squeeze, a quiet reassurance that makes your heart skip a beat.

The day passes in a haze of warmth and peace, your stress long gone. And you realize something: being with Leona feels like this—like having someone who makes the hard days bearable, without needing you to say a word.

And yeah, you could definitely get used to this.

You've thought about asking him for weeks. Maybe even months. But every time the words start forming, you chicken out. You’re this close to accepting that you’ll just live in relationship limbo forever.

It’s safer. No awkward conversations, no heartbreak. Just… endless naps together, weird dates that may or may not be dates, and him doing sweet things without ever calling them what they are.

But tonight, as you sit curled up in his arms, watching the stars from a balcony in the botanical gardens, it feels like the moment. Leona is lounging beside you, one arm slung lazily around your shoulders, the other resting on your leg like it's the most natural thing in the world. His warmth is comforting, grounding, and for once, you let yourself think: Maybe, just maybe, this is real.

You take a breath, steeling yourself. If he laughs or acts indifferent, fine. If it ruins everything—okay, not fine, but you'll survive.

“Hey, Leona?”

He hums, eyes still half-lidded. He’s relaxed, probably thinking about nothing except how long it’ll take for him to drag you back to bed.

You clear your throat. “What are we?”

Leona cracks one eye open, giving you a lazy look. “Huh?”

You shift nervously under his gaze. “Like… What is this? Are we—” You gesture vaguely between the two of you. “—a thing? Or… I mean, are you—do you even like me like that? Or—?”

He stares at you for a second, blinking slowly, like a cat woken from a nap it didn’t want to leave. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

You feel your courage start to wither, but you force the words out. “I mean, I thought… We never really said anything official. And I don’t know if this is, you know—” You wave a hand. “Something? Or if you’re just putting up with me or—”

Leona makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh, like you just asked him the dumbest question imaginable.

“You really thought I’d let you hang around me this much if I didn’t want you?” he says, giving you a flat, incredulous look.

You blink at him. “So… we’ve been dating this whole time?”

He just stares at you. “...What else did you think we were doing?”

“Oh my god—” You slap a hand over your face, torn between relief and secondhand embarrassment. “I thought you were just vibing.”

Leona snorts. “Yeah. Vibing with you. Idiot.”

Despite yourself, you laugh—a little breathless, a little giddy. It’s so absurd. All this time, you’d been worried about asking him where you stood, and he just… assumed you knew.

Leona rolls his eyes but shifts slightly, turning to face you. His gaze is softer now, and the usual laziness in it is replaced by something raw and unguarded. His hand, rough and warm, cups your cheek.

“Listen,” he mutters, voice low and a little rough around the edges. “I’m not good at sayin’ stuff like this, so don’t make me repeat it, okay?”

You nod, holding your breath.

“I love you.” The words slip out easily, like they’ve been waiting there all along. “Don’t care what anyone says, don’t care what they think—I'm not good at a lotta things, but I know I want you.”

Your heart stumbles. For a moment, the world feels too quiet, too small. You reach up to cover his hand with yours, warmth spreading through your chest.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, like it's the easiest thing you've ever said.

Leona's lips twitch upward into a faint, self-satisfied smirk, but there’s something vulnerable in the way his gaze lingers on you, like he’s not used to getting what he wants.

“So,” you say softly, “are you my boyfriend now?”

He gives you the look—that deadpan, long-suffering stare, like you’ve just asked him the dumbest question of the century.

“Then what the hell else would I be?” he grumbles.

You can’t help it. You laugh—bright, free, and maybe a little too giddy. And before you can stop yourself, you lean forward and press a kiss to his lips.

The kiss is soft, warm, and it lingers just long enough to make your heart race. He tastes like mint and the faintest hint of something earthy, something that feels like home. His hand slides down to rest at the small of your back, holding you close like he has no intention of letting you go.

When you finally pull away, you grin at him, still breathless. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Yeah, well.” He smirks, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“Good,” you whisper, and this time, it’s him who leans in.

And just like that, the world slips away, leaving only the two of you—wrapped in warmth, in laughter, in everything you never knew you needed.

Leona saunters into your room, hands in his pockets, tail flicking lazily behind him. “Hey, Falena and his family are visiting today,” he says, like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

You blink at him from your bed, mid-scroll on your phone. “You mean the King and Queen of the Sunset Savanna are visiting.”

Leona shrugs. “Yeah. Same thing.”

You sit bolt upright. “Leona, that’s not the same thing! Those are literal royals!"

He raises an eyebrow, already amused. “I’m royalty too, you know?”

You groan, dragging your hands down your face. “But you’re my boyfriend!”

Leona’s smirk grows as smug as the desert sun. “Exactly.”

Oh no. He’s loving this way too much.

Despite your protests, you're soon standing next to Leona at the main entrance, sweating bullets as Falena, his wife, and Cheka step through the doors. They’re all gorgeous and elegant, the epitome of royal perfection. You’re about to pass out from nerves, but Leona? He looks like he’s two seconds away from falling asleep on his feet.

Cheka spots you first. “UNCLE LEONA!” he shrieks, barreling straight for his favorite uncle—and by extension, you. Before you can brace for impact, the little lion cub is already latched onto your legs.

“You must be the one Leona told us about!” Falena grins warmly, stepping up beside his wife, who’s equally radiant. “It’s so nice to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you.”

You gawk at him. “Wait... Leona talks about me?”

Falena’s wife smiles knowingly. “Quite a bit, actually.”

You shoot Leona a look, but he just rolls his eyes. “Don’t get weird about it.”

Meanwhile, Cheka, still latched to your leg like a koala, looks up with big, bright eyes. “You’re my favorite person now!” he declares, squeezing your leg tighter. “After Uncle Leona. But you’re mine after him, okay?”

Leona huffs out a laugh, amused by the possessive cub. “Tch. Good luck, kid.”

“I’ll fight for you!” Cheka promises dramatically, like you’re a prize to be won at a carnival. He even makes little fists, shadow-boxing an invisible opponent. “I’ll become a strong lion and beat all the bad guys!”

You try (and fail) to hold back a laugh. “Well, I look forward to it.”

Falena claps his hands together, his grin brighter than the savanna sun. “Since we’re all here, how about a walk around the grounds? It’ll be nice to catch up.”

“Nope.” Leona’s arm is suddenly wrapped around your waist, dragging you closer to him. “We’re good right here.”

Falena and his wife exchange that look—the kind that says they’ve been married long enough to know exactly what’s going on.

“We’ll leave you two alone, then,” Falena says with a chuckle, patting Leona on the shoulder. “We’re happy for you, Leona.”

His wife nods, her eyes twinkling. “Very happy.”

You open your mouth to protest—Wait, this isn’t what it looks like! We’re just standing here! I’m not even sure what’s happening!—but the words don’t come. You just sputter and blush as Leona tugs you closer, looking far too pleased with himself.

“See?” Leona murmurs smugly, lips quirking into a grin as you bury your face in your hands. “Told you it wasn’t a big deal.”

You groan into your palms. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” His grip tightens just a bit, his voice low and lazy as ever. “C’mon. Admit it—you like having a royal boyfriend.”

You peek through your fingers, cheeks burning. “Leona...”

He leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. “Say it.”

You glare up at him, flustered beyond belief but unable to hide the smile creeping onto your face. “...Okay, maybe I do.”

He hums in satisfaction, practically purring. “Thought so.”

And just like that, he pulls you into a lazy, one-armed hug, as if holding you is the easiest thing in the world—and honestly? It kind of is.

The moment the news breaks that you’re dating Leona, you know it’s going to be a thing. A very loud thing. Ace and Deuce are the first to get wind of it, and honestly, you almost regret ever telling them.

“Leona Kingscholar?!” Ace yells, gaping like you just told him you were moving to Mars.

“Why??” Deuce adds, equally stunned. “Are you okay? Blink twice if you're in danger.”

“Isn’t he the guy who naps literally everywhere?” Ace squawks. “Like, you’re really dating a guy who falls asleep during fights?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, Ace. I am.”

“Not to mention he’s scary,” Deuce mutters. “What if he, I don’t know, kicks you out of the relationship because it’s too much work?”

“He’s not going to ‘kick me out,’ Deuce.”

Ace leans in conspiratorially, wiggling his eyebrows. “Have you thought about what happens when Riddle finds out?”

Deuce pales. “Oh man, I’m not telling him.”

“You’re definitely telling him.”

“No, you tell him!”

“Do I look like I have a death wish?” Ace scoffs. “I can already hear him screaming something about ‘poor romantic judgment!’”

Meanwhile, Jack is sitting with his arms crossed, brow furrowed. “I don’t know why you’re all acting like this. Housewarden Leona’s actually cool if you get to know him.”

Ace stares at him like he’s sprouted a second head. “Jack, the man once threatened to ‘accidentally’ kick me into a bush because I sneezed near him.”

“Yeah, because you sneezed on him.”

“It was allergy season!”

“Uh-huh.” Jack shrugs. “Still deserved it.”

Before you can jump in, Grim waddles in, arms crossed like the world’s smallest mafia boss. “I don’t care who you date as long as you’re still my henchhuman. Priorities, ya know?”

“Gee, thanks, Grim.”

Then, from across the room, Epel starts cackling like a madman.

“Oh, Vil is gonna lose his mind when he hears about this!” he wheezes, clutching his stomach. “Leona’s the exact opposite of Vil’s whole life philosophy. This is beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Ace adds, smirking. “It’s like watching two completely different wildlife documentaries crash into each other.”

Before you can stop him, Sebek jumps in, indignant. “I cannot believe you would choose that lazy lout over the Young Master!” He practically growls the words.

“Sebek, Leona is—” you try to reason, but Sebek steamrolls right over you.

“He sleeps through his classes! He’s rude! And worst of all, he doesn’t respect Master Malleus!”

You sigh. “Sebek, you can’t date someone based on their respect levels for Malleus.”

“You should!” Sebek declares, crossing his arms dramatically like a lawyer who just delivered the winning argument.

Before things spiral further, Jack mutters, “Leona’s not rude. He’s just… efficient with his energy.”

“Efficient? He calls that one freshman ‘footstool,’ Jack,” Ace deadpans.

“Maybe it’s a term of endearment,” Jack grumbles defensively.

You shake your head, smiling despite yourself. The whole scene is chaotic—Ace flailing, Epel wheezing, Sebek looking personally offended, Deuce still white-knuckling through the idea of telling Riddle—and somehow, it’s perfect.

Because deep down, you know something they don’t.

Even though Leona doesn’t show it, even though he hates doing anything that even smells like effort, he cares. He really does. Whether it’s texting you to remind you to eat, draping his jacket over you when you forget yours, or waking you up from an accidental nap with your favorite snack—he makes sure you know.

You just smile quietly to yourself, heart warm. And when Ace notices and nudges you, asking what’s got you looking so smug, you just shrug.

“Oh, nothing,” you say, already counting down the minutes until you can see Leona again.

Because even though the man drives you up the wall and naps like a professional, he’s yours. And that makes all the teasing worth it.

1k masterlist ; Main Masterlist

i know lions don't purr but in my delusions, leona does. work with me here

[wonderjanga]

Part-time Jobs

Billy needs money, or at least more than what he currently has. So, he gets a job. Scratch that. Marvel gets a job. Marvel is now a part timer named Mark who works at a Target, a Baskin Robins, a Bojangles (I worked at one, so now he has to), and a couple other places. The stamina of Atlas is really carrying him.

Marvel and Coworker 1: *taking a lunch break together*

Coworker 1: “Wait, so is this your only job?”

Marvel: “Hm? No. Why?”

Coworker 1: “Well, it’s just that I briefly remember you saying one time about how this isn’t your only job.”

Marvel: “Ohhhhh… Well let’s see, I work here, Target, a Baskin Robins, and a Bojangles. I’ve been a bouncer at a club a couple times since a friend of mine at the Baskin Robins will let me fill in for him. And then there’s the Autozone, and the Taco Bell.”

Coworker 1: *starts growing more and more alarmed/horrified after the Baskin Robins mention* “Mark, buddy, that’s like… six— seven jobs! How do you have the time for that, one, and two you have like no one eyebags or visible exhaustion whatsoever.”

Marvel: “I clean up well…?”

Coworker 1: “That’s a bit of an understatement, pal. You look like you have a full nights rest, a good meal, and a good conscience. I’ve never once seen you drink a drop of caffeine to.”

Marvel: “Uh…”

Coworker 1: *stands on tippy toes to place a hand on Marvel’s shoulder* “Dude, are you alright?”

Marvel: *leans down so they don’t have to stand on their tippy toes* “Yes?”

Coworker 1: “You sure?”

Marvel: “Yes?? You’re making me second guess myself.”

Coworker 1: “Maybe you should, because working 7 jobs is actually insane, bud.”

This interaction honestly set Billy on edge afterwords. He didn’t really want Coworker 1 worrying over him. Especially when Billy was just trying to get that bag. Speaking of worrying there was another coworker who tended to worry about him a lot, Ms. Gertrude. She was the manager of the Target he worked at. Her worry was more that of a grandmother. She pinches his cheeks and gives him candy despite the fact that in his Marvel form, he not only looks like a grown man, she’s also half his size. He doesn’t particularly mind though.

Marvel: “Ms. Gertrude, why do you always pinch my cheeks and give me candy?

Ms. Gertrude: “You remind me of my husband.” *hands him some old lady candy*

Marvel: *extremely confused* “Huh?”

Ms. Gertrude: “Yes, Micheal, my husband. You remind me of him. So, I’ve decided you’re now my grandson.”

Marvel: “Oh uh… okay.” *doesn’t know whether to be happy or not*

Ms. Gertrude: “Yes, now go stock the toy aisle, dear.” *shooes him off*

Marvel: *scurries off to the toy aisie*

The time bubble worked in his favor, Billy supposed. Ms. Gertrude likes her 1950s to 60s not-really-grandson grandson.

Then there’s the time Flash was in town for whatever and went to the local Baskin Robins.

Flash: “I’ll take a double fudge sundae— Whaaaa…? Cap?”

Marvel: “It’s Mark.” *taps name tag*

Flash: “Your name is Mark?”

Marvel: “Well… no. But it’s my name for this job. A double fudge sundae, right?”

Flash: “Right.” *stares for a couple seconds* “Dude, why’re you here?”

Marvel: “It’s my city?”

Flash: “You know what I mean. Dude, why’re you working at a Baskin Robin’s?”

Marvel: “Money.”

Flash: “Money?”

Marvel: *nods head* “Money.”

Flash: “You know we get a salary right? Also why do you even need money in the first place? I didn’t even think you were a human.”

Marvel: *donates most of the money to homeless shelters, but doesn’t use any of it for himself cause he’s scared it’ll let them find out he’s a kid* “I did know that. I just like to eat. I work at like 5 different fast food places cause the food is delicious.” *walks to the ice cream to start making the sundae*

Flash: “How do you have the time for that?”

Marvel: *shrugs, finishing the sundae and handing it to Wally*

Flash: “I will be very much asking about this later, bud. You will be warned.”

[hsunrry]

best i’ve ever had // one shot

harry styles x fem!reader

summary: you asked your best friend for unusual favor.

|| masterlist ||

words: ~1,1k

warnings: smut18+, praise, oral (m receiving)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

you laid down on his bed on your back, closing your eyes, when you felt him laying down just on top of you with his whole weight, nuzzling his face in your neck. he’s your best friend since forever and you two are practically inseparable. “i’m tired.” he mumbled. you chuckled softly at his words.

“Harry?” you spoke after few seconds, thinking he fell asleep. he lifted his head up to look at you with sleepy expression. “we’re best friends for so long.” you hesitated for a moment. “can i have a weird request? you don’t have to agree.”

“anything, you know that.” he nodded slowly, lowering his face back to your neck, his hot breath causing goosebumps on your skin. “what is it?”

“so you know, when i was with this guy few months ago…” you started, chuckling right after. “god, this is so stupid.” he lifted his head up to look at you with confused expression.

“i’m sure it’s not, whatever it is, just say it.” he shrugged, poking your side. he went back to nuzzle into your neck.

“okay, so, when i was with him and i was giving him a head he was like… quiet? i don’t know, he came, obviously and he was telling me he was enjoying it, so i don’t know if it’s just some, uh, preference of mine that i like when guy is loud durning that and he just wasn’t the loud type, or if i’m just not good enough at it to make him loud.” you swallowed quietly.

“oh.” his face still in your neck. “you’re asking me if it’s normal that guy is quiet durning that?” he summarised.

“no, i’m just wondering if i’m good enough at it or if i’m that bad he wasn’t satisfied to even make a sound.” you shrugged. he lifted his head up to look at you.

“so, you want me to?…” he bit inside of his cheek nervously, looking at you expectantly.

“you don’t have to agree if it’s stupid for you and if you think it’ll change anything between us.” you said quickly. he looked at you for long moment, his expression soft and reassuring.

“it won’t change anything between us.” he said gently with a soft shrug. “i want to help you figure it out. i’ll be brutally honest.” he chuckled softly, but after that he went serious. “but only if you’re completely sure you want to do that. i don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or awkward.”

“don’t worry about it, i won’t.” you chuckled. he smiled slightly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“okay then.” he sat up, standing up from the bed right after. “give me a minute.” he said, walking out from the room, probably to the bathroom. after few minutes he came back, his face slightly flushed. he sat down next to you. “okay, i washed myself.” he smiled. “i want you to do exactly what you did with him, okay?”

“yeah, got it.” you said with soft smile. “can you lay down then?” he nodded, laying down on his bed. his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

“okay, i’m ready.” he said softly, trying to mask his nervousness with a smile.

“are you sure?” you asked last time.

“yes, i’m sure.” his voice firm, his eyes never leaving yours. “i promise, i’ll be honest and i won’t hold back anything.” he took deeper breath, preparing himself for what was about to happen. you took off his sweatpants, leaving him only in boxers. he looked down at himself, his heart racing in his chest. “okay…” he whispered, his eyes flicking back to meet yours. “go ahead.” he said, his voice trembling slightly. he inhaled sharply when you started palming him over thin material. “mhm.” he let out quiet moan. “it’s already good, y/n and you’re not doing much right now.” he muttered.

“is it?” you smiled softly, taking off his boxers when you felt he was rock hard and going to kneel between his thighs. he spread his legs wider in response, giving you more room to work with.

“you look so good like that.” he complimented, his voice already hoarse. you smiled softly, loving the fact that he was praising you and that he was giving you better reactions already than the guy you were with before. you wrapped your hand around his hardened flesh, starting to stroke slowly. your thumb went to spread pre-cum on his tip. his head fell back against the headboard and quiet groan escaped his lips as you stroked him. “oh fuck, y/n…” he gasped, his hips rocking slightly into your hand. “your hand feel good, so good.” his hands gripped the sheets slightly. you went down with your head, starting circling his tip with your tongue. he jolted at the sensation and he whimpered. his one hand went into your hair. “please, more.” satisfied with his reactions, you wrapped your lips around his tip, sucking slightly and working with your tongue inside your mouth. his hips bucking slightly as you sucked on his cock. “fuck, y/n.” he gasped, his fingers tightening in your hair. “yes, just like that.” he moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as you went deeper on him, sucking and stroking the part you couldn’t reach with your mouth. his noises went more desperate. “your mouth feels incredible.” he panted, his free hand gripped the headboard behind his head. “you love sucking my cock, don’t you? such a good girl…” you moaned around him at his words, loving the comments and noises he was making. you started moving even faster, hollowing your cheeks inside to bring him even more pleasure. he cried out, his head snapping against headboard. “yes, yes, just like that! fuck, y/n, i’m getting close, so close!” he warned, gripping your hair slightly tighter. “don’t stop, please, don’t stop. i’m gonna cum.” you started moving even faster at his words. he let out loud, drawn-out moan, his body tensing as his hot sprouts went down your throat. he panted your name few times as his body shuddered with pleasure. you sucked him slowly through his orgasm, licking him clean and swallowing everything. he collapsed on the bed, his chest heaving with each breath. a lazy, satisfied smile spread across his face. “holy shit, that was incredible.” he murmured, his hand stroking gently through your hair. “you’re amazing, y/n. i don’t know what was wrong with this guy.”

“really?” you smiled, laying down next to him. he pulled you into his arms, holding you close.

“yes, really.” he nuzzled into your hair. “that was the best blowjob i’ve ever had. hands down.”

“i’m glad i wasn’t the problem then.” you chuckled softly.

“you’re definitely not the problem, darling.”

[florawrites-blog]

Audacity - enhypen

-Enhypen reaction to you babying their members

Lee heeseung - 이희승

In the warmth of the cozy living room, the aroma of freshly made soup filled the air as you sat beside Jay, who looked pale and exhausted. He’d been the one to care for everyone else, but now, with a fever making him weak, it was your turn to return the favor.

You gently stirred the soup, bringing the spoon closer to his lips. “Come on, Jay, just one more spoon. It’ll help you feel better,” you encouraged, your voice soft and reassuring.

Jay, eyes barely open, managed a small, grateful smile. “I can do it myself,” he mumbled, but his body betrayed him as he struggled to lift his arm. You shook your head, insisting he let you help.

Just as you were about to offer another spoonful, a loud throat clearing interrupted the moment. Startled, you turned to see Heeseung standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. His eyes flicked from you to Jay, then back to you. The silence that followed was heavy, almost tangible.

Heeseung didn’t say a word. He simply walked past you, his gaze lingering a little too long before he disappeared down the hallway. You frowned, confusion settling in as you finished feeding Jay.

Later that evening, you found Heeseung in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, staring at his phone. You approached him cautiously, placing a hand on his arm. “Heeseung, is everything okay?”

He looked up briefly, his expression still guarded, before returning his attention to his phone without a word. The cold shoulder he was giving you sent a shiver down your spine.

“Are you upset because of earlier?” you asked, trying to get him to open up.

Heeseung remained silent, his face giving nothing away. The tension in the air was palpable, and it hurt to see him like this, especially when you didn’t fully understand why.

You sighed, stepping closer to him. “Heeseung, talk to me. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s nothing,” he finally muttered, cutting you off. But his tone said otherwise. The distance between you, despite being only a few feet, felt like a chasm.

The rest of the evening passed in a strained silence, and even when you tried to engage him in conversation, he kept his responses short, never looking directly at you. The warmth and affection that usually filled the air between you two were replaced by an uncomfortable coldness.

As you lay in bed that night, Heeseung’s back turned towards you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong. You reached out, gently placing your hand on his shoulder. “Heeseung, please… I’m sorry if I upset you.”

He stiffened under your touch, but after a long pause, he sighed deeply, finally turning to face you. “It’s just… seeing you with Jay like that, taking care of him… I know he’s sick, but it made me feel… jealous, I guess,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart ached at his words. “Heeseung, you know you’re the one I love, right? I was just helping Jay because he needed it.”

“I know,” he said, his voice softer now, the anger in his eyes replaced by vulnerability. “But I couldn’t help feeling like… maybe you care for him more.”

You shook your head, reaching out to cup his cheek. “That’s not true. I care about all of you, but what I have with you is different, special. You’re my boyfriend, Heeseung, and I love you.”

Heeseung’s expression softened, and he finally pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “I’m sorry for giving you the silent treatment. I just didn’t know how to deal with what I was feeling.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered, relieved that the tension between you was melting away. “Just don’t shut me out again, okay? We can talk through anything.”

He nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I promise. And I’ll try not to get jealous so easily next time.”

You smiled, snuggling closer to him, feeling the warmth return to your relationship. The silence that had once felt so cold was now comforting, filled with understanding and love.

Park jongseong - 박종성

The morning sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow in the room as you stood in front of Jungwon, carefully fixing his tie. He was dressed in a sharp suit, ready for an important event, but there was a hint of nervousness in his eyes. You smiled, trying to ease his anxiety.

"Look at you, you look adorable," you said, your voice filled with affection as you adjusted the knot on his tie.

Jungwon blushed slightly, offering a shy smile. "Thanks, I just want everything to go smoothly today."

"You’ll be amazing, don’t worry," you reassured him, smoothing down the fabric of his suit jacket. "Now, go out there and show them what you’ve got."

Just as you finished, you turned around and froze. There, leaning casually against the door frame, was Jay, his eyes locked onto you. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze—maybe curiosity, maybe something more.

Jungwon, unaware of the tension, flashed a quick smile at Jay before heading out to the event. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with your boyfriend.

You approached Jay with a smile, arms open, ready to hug him, but he remained still, his eyes still locked onto yours. As you got closer, he tilted his head slightly and spoke, “Wow, princess, don’t you think you’re babying him a bit too much lately?”

You couldn’t help but scoff, hitting his chest playfully. “Oh, come on, Jay. You baby him more than I do! And he’s literally the cutest, so you can’t blame me.”

Jay’s serious expression softened as he let out a small laugh, his arms finally wrapping around you, pulling you close. “Okay, okay, you’re right. He is the cutest. But…” he leaned down, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper, “remember, he’s my son, not yours.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Fine, I’ll try not to ‘baby’ him too much. But you’re not off the hook either, Mr. Overprotective.”

Jay grinned, tightening his hold on you. “Deal. Just don’t forget who your number one is.”

“I could never forget,” you murmured, leaning up to kiss him, the playful banter giving way to a tender moment. Jay’s initial jealousy was all but forgotten, replaced by the warmth of your shared love.

Sim jaeyun = 심재윤

You and Ni-ki were sitting on the floor of the living room, intense concentration written on both your faces as you played a competitive game. Ni-ki had been winning most of the rounds, as usual, but this time, against all odds, you managed to pull off a victory. The rare moment of defeat caught Ni-ki off guard, and he stared at the screen in disbelief.

You couldn’t resist ruffling his hair playfully, a grin spreading across your face. “Can’t win them all, Ni-ki,” you teased, enjoying the rare moment of triumph.

He pouted slightly but then shrugged it off with a smile, accepting his loss with grace. As you got up to grab some water, you turned around and spotted Jake standing in the doorway, his arms crossed and the biggest pout you’d ever seen on his face. If someone else saw him, they’d probably think you’d just taken away his favorite toy.

You walked over to him, trying to hold back a laugh at how dramatically upset he looked. “Jake, what’s wrong?” you asked softly, reaching out to touch his arm.

But instead of answering, Jake lowered his head in an exaggerated manner and began walking away, his steps slow and heavy as if he was carrying the weight of the world. That’s when it hit you—he was jealous. The realization made you burst out laughing, and you quickly followed him, your arms wide open, ready to pull him into a hug.

Jake, however, quickened his pace, determined to stay just out of reach. “Come on, you big baby, come here and let me take a look at you,” you called after him, your voice filled with amusement.

“No, go away from me,” Jake replied dramatically, glancing back at you with a hurt expression. “Go to Ni-ki and let me die because apparently, you hate me.”

You rolled your eyes, still laughing at his antics. “Oh, please, be for real, Jake.”

“Oh wow, so now it’s just Jake, okay,” he said, his tone even sadder, but you could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Not wanting to drag it out any longer, you finally caught up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. “You know I love you, right?” you whispered into his ear, clinging to him.

Jake let out a dramatic sigh but finally relented, turning in your arms to face you. “I guess I can forgive you… this time,” he mumbled, though his pout remained.

You grinned, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, my big, jealous baby.”

He couldn’t help but smile at that, pulling you closer. But for the rest of the day, you noticed him sending death glares in Ni-ki’s direction whenever he thought you weren’t looking, making you shake your head and smile. Jealous Jake was something else, but you loved him for it.

Park sunghoon - 박성훈

You stepped into the dorm, the familiar sounds of the boys unwinding after practice filling the space. Your boyfriend, Sunghoon, had just come back with the rest of the group, and you were excited to see him. But before you even thought about greeting him, your concern was elsewhere.

Spotting Jake sitting on the couch with his leg propped up, you hurried over, worry etched across your face. “Oh my God, look at you! You look so bad. How’s your ankle now?” you asked in a baby voice, your eyes filled with concern as you kneeled beside him.

Jake gave you a sheepish smile, appreciating the attention. “It’s not too bad, really. Just a little sore.”

Before you could ask anything more, you felt a sudden tug on your hoodie. You barely had time to react before Sunghoon, his face a mix of annoyance and jealousy, pulled you away from Jake with a firm grip. His glare could have frozen over a volcano, and he didn’t say a word as he guided you to his room, closing the door behind you.

Once inside, he let go of your hoodie and crossed his arms, looking at you with narrowed eyes. “Seriously? The first thing you do when you get here is run to Jake? What about me?” he scolded, his voice a mix of frustration and hurt.

You bit your lip, trying to keep a straight face as he continued. “I’m your boyfriend, and I’ve barely seen you all day. And you—”

But as he kept talking, you realized you had other plans. He was adorable when he was upset, but he was also talking way too much. Without warning, you reached up, cupping his face in your hands, and pulled him down into a kiss.

Sunghoon’s words immediately died on his lips as he melted into the kiss, all his frustration evaporating in an instant. You felt him relax, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer.

When you finally pulled away, a small, satisfied smile played on your lips. “I’m here now, okay? And I’m all yours,” you whispered.

Sunghoon sighed, his expression softening as he leaned his forehead against yours. “You’re impossible, you know that?” he muttered, but there was no real anger in his voice anymore.

You chuckled, giving him another quick peck on the lips. “Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

He couldn’t argue with that, pulling you into his arms for a long, warm embrace. The earlier jealousy was forgotten, replaced by the comfort of having you there with him.

Kim sunoo - 김순우

You were sitting on the couch with Sunghoon, casually chatting about your day when he suddenly sighed and looked down at his stomach. “I think I’ve gained some weight recently,” he mumbled. “Maybe I should start dieting.”

The moment the words left his mouth, you instantly shifted into full-on mother mode. “Absolutely not!” you exclaimed, moving closer to him. “You don’t need to diet, Sunghoon. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

Ignoring his awkward chuckle, you gently grabbed his face, cupping his cheeks in your hands as you lectured him. “You need to eat well and take care of yourself. No more talk about dieting, okay? Promise me.”

Just as Sunghoon was about to respond, a loud, dramatic gasp echoed through the room. You turned to see Sunoo standing in the doorway, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open as if he’d just witnessed the most shocking betrayal. He looked at you with the ugliest side-eye he could muster, his expression full of exaggerated disbelief.

“Wow, Y/N, just wow,” Sunoo said, his voice dripping with melodrama as he turned away, clutching his chest like someone had stolen his most prized possession.

You blinked in surprise, realizing what this was about. “Oh, come on, Sunoo, don’t tell me you’re jealous,” you said, trying not to laugh.

But before you could explain further, Sunghoon, clearly not wanting to be caught in the middle of this, awkwardly excused himself and disappeared in a flash, leaving you to deal with Sunoo.

You got up and followed Sunoo, who had dramatically flopped onto the nearest chair, his back turned to you in mock offense. “Sunoo, you know I love you too, right?” you said, trying to coax him out of his sulk.

He glanced back at you, still pouting. “But you were babying Sunghoon. You’ve never babied me like that.”

You sighed, knowing you had to make it up to him. “Okay, fine. I’ll make it up to you. What do you want?”

Sunoo’s eyes lit up instantly, his pout disappearing as he turned to face you fully. “I want you to stay up all night and watch a K-drama with me. Of my choice.”

You groaned playfully, but there was no way you could say no to him. “Deal,” you agreed, rolling your eyes but smiling at the same time.

Sunoo beamed, his previous sulk completely forgotten. “Good! And you’d better not fall asleep halfway through,” he warned, wagging a finger at you.

You laughed, pulling him into a hug. “I won’t, I promise. But you owe me one next time.”

Sunoo grinned, snuggling into your embrace. “We’ll see about that.”

And so, as the night wore on, you found yourself curled up with Sunoo, binge-watching his favorite K-drama. It was a small price to pay to see him happy, and despite the tiredness creeping in, you couldn’t help but enjoy the moment.

Yang jungwon - 양중원

The day had been going well enough until Heeseung’s members decided to tease him mercilessly. They poked fun at him for being “hoe-less,” joking that he couldn’t even get a girl if he tried. It was all in good fun, but you could see the way Heeseung’s shoulders slumped just a little, the smile on his face not quite reaching his eyes.

You couldn’t stand seeing him like that. Without a second thought, you moved to sit beside him, wrapping your arms around him in a comforting hug. “Don’t listen to them,” you said softly, your voice full of affection. “You’re amazing, and any girl would be lucky to have you.”

Heeseung blushed, You continued to baby him, gently stroking his hair and showering him with compliments, doing everything you could to make him feel better because as much as you know his members meant it as a joke heeseung confident was getting bruised.

But as you did, you felt a pair of eyes boring into you. Glancing up, you saw Jungwon across the room, his gaze fixed on you with a look that could almost burn a hole through you. His expression was unreadable, but you could sense the tension in the air. For the rest of the time you spent with Heeseung, Jungwon didn’t say a word to you. He just watched, his eyes never leaving you.

Later that evening, you noticed that Jungwon was acting distant. He barely spoke to you, and when he did, it was brief and curt. The playful, affectionate Jungwon you were used to was nowhere to be found. When it was time for bed, he even skipped your usual goodnight kiss, which left you feeling hurt and confused.

Determined to fix whatever was wrong, you reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward you. “Jungwon, what’s going on? You didn’t give me my goodnight kiss,” you said, your voice laced with concern.

But Jungwon just stubbornly turned his head away, refusing to meet your eyes. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled, but his tone said otherwise.

You sighed, feeling a pang of frustration. You tried tugging at his hand again, hoping he’d relent, but he remained stiff and unyielding. Finally, you gave up, feeling more hurt than ever, and turned over in bed, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in your chest.

Sleep didn’t come easy. Even as you drifted off, you found yourself mumbling his name, a soft plea for the closeness you were missing. Unbeknownst to you, Jungwon had been watching you the whole time, his heart twisting at the sight of you so vulnerable and longing for him.

Suddenly, any lingering frustration he felt melted away, replaced by an overwhelming urge to hold you close. Unable to resist, Jungwon leaned over and began covering your face with soft, rapid kisses, unable to stop himself from expressing just how much he adored you.

The sensation of his lips on your skin stirred you from your sleep, and you blinked up at him in surprise. “Jungwon?” you mumbled, still half-asleep.

He didn’t stop, pressing kisses all over your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, until you were fully awake and giggling beneath his affection. “I’m sorry,” he whispered between kisses. “I didn’t mean to be so distant. I was just… jealous, I guess.”

You smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek. “You know you don’t have to be jealous, right? You’re the only one I want.”

He finally stopped his assault of kisses, pulling you close and nuzzling into your neck. “I know. I’m sorry for being stubborn earlier.”

“It’s okay,” you murmured, running your fingers through his hair. “Just don’t shut me out again.”

He nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, finally giving you the goodnight kiss you’d been waiting for. “I won’t. I promise.”

With that, you both settled down, tangled up in each other’s arms, and the rest of the night passed in peaceful, contented sleep.

Ni- ki -남편

You were lounging on the couch with Sunoo, scrolling through pictures on your phone from yesterday’s fan sign. As you came across a particularly adorable photo of him, you couldn’t help but gush. “Sunoo, look at this! You were so cute yesterday,” you exclaimed, showing him the picture. “I swear, you’re my bias!”

Sunoo giggled, clearly enjoying the praise. “Really? I was just being myself.”

“Well, your ‘just being yourself’ is enough to make everyone fall for you,” you continued, your voice full of affection. “You’re seriously the cutest, Sunoo.”

As you continued to shower him with compliments, you noticed a shift in the atmosphere. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Ni-ki sitting nearby, his expression growing darker by the second. He wasn’t saying anything, but you could practically feel the waves of jealousy radiating off him. His usual carefree demeanor had been replaced by a subtle sulk, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Realizing what was happening, you quickly tried to smooth things over. “But, of course, my absolute favorite is you, Ni-ki,” you said, turning your attention to him. “No one can compare to you.”

But Ni-ki was already deep into his jealous funk. He crossed his arms, avoiding your gaze, and mumbled something under his breath. You could tell he wasn’t going to be easily convinced, and it seemed like you’d have to work a bit harder to get back into his good graces.

You got up and walked over to him, kneeling in front of him so you could look up into his eyes. “Hey,” you said softly, reaching out to take his hand. “You know I love you, right? No one else could ever take your place.”

Ni-ki didn’t pull away, but he also didn’t respond. He just kept his eyes fixed on the floor, his expression unreadable. You sighed, realizing that this was going to take some serious effort.

For the rest of the day, you devoted yourself to babying Ni-ki. You followed him around, insisting on doing little things for him, like bringing him snacks, fluffing his pillows, and even giving him a back massage. Every time he tried to brush you off, you’d just smile and keep at it, determined to break through his jealousy.

At first, he resisted, remaining stubbornly distant. But as the hours passed, you could see his defenses slowly crumbling. He started responding to your efforts with small smiles, and eventually, he stopped resisting altogether.

By the time the evening rolled around, Ni-ki was finally starting to warm up to you again. He let out a long sigh as you sat beside him on the couch, leaning into you a little. “You’re really annoying, you know that?” he muttered, but there was no bite in his words.

You grinned, taking that as a sign that he was coming around. “Maybe, but you still love me,” you teased, nudging him playfully.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

You leaned in, resting your head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry if I made you feel left out earlier. You’re always my number one, Ni-ki.”

He finally relented, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. “Okay, fine. Just… don’t forget about me next time.”

“Never,” you promised, planting a kiss on his cheek. “You’re stuck with me forever.”

He chuckled, finally letting go of the last bit of his jealousy. “I guess I can live with that.”

The rest of the evening was spent in comfortable silence, with Ni-ki’s jealousy fully melted away. He was back to his usual self, and you were more than happy to have your playful, loving boyfriend back in your arms.

[sisterslvt]

thinking about mom finding a thong that she definitely did not nor would not buy me in the laundry.

she’s furious, marches upstairs. she throws the door open while i’m sprawled out naked on the floor, two fingers deep in my pussy in front of my mirror. we both freak out, although she gains her composure much quicker. “what do you think you’re doing young lady? you’re going to explain to me exactly what you’re hoping comes out of you wearing things like this!” she holds the lingerie up for me to see. i’m so embarrassed, i manage to stutter out: “mom, can’t you see i’m busy?! g-get out.” not good enough, apparently. she grabs my hand, still dripping, and pulls me to my feet.

“while you’re in my house, you don’t make the rules. sit down, and tell me why you have these.” i shuffle over to my bed and sit down, trying to grab a pair of pants or a shirt or anything to cover myself. mom sees and snaps at me “okay, so you’re too good for clothes around strangers, but you’re embarrassed around me? give me a break. stop. tell me about these already.”

she isn’t taking no for an answer. “i, I thought they looked cute, no other reason!” her demeanor changes. she’s no longer as stern-looking. she’s almost…inquisitive? “hm, well i’ll be the judge of that. here. put them on.” “wh-what?” “you heard me. show me what they look like on you.” i hesitantly take the pair of panties from her, slide them on. god, they barely cover anything, she’s gonna kill me.

“i think you have a point. they do look really good on you. but you definitely shouldn’t be wearing them out. clearly, all you’re thinking about is sex. so here’s what’s going to happen”

i watch in shock as she stands up, unbuttons her jeans, and pulls her cock out, pulling a string of precum away

“um, uh-“ is the only thing i can manage to get out. i should be disgusted, but between being interrupted while i was touching myself, and the way her curves enrapture me, the only other reaction i have is to stare

“what, baby? this is what you wanted, isn’t it? to be fucked in a thong? lay down on the bed.”

i honestly cannot believe what’s happening. i don’t know how to react

“do what i say!”, she snaps . “you’ve been so aloof, it’s time i reminded you who’s in charge” as taken aback as i am, i don’t know what other choice i have

i do as i’m told, and lay down on my back. “that’s a start. now show me what you were doing before i came in” i hesitate for a moment, and then start to rub my clit through the lingerie. god, it feels so good.

“good girl, just like that.” my eyes follow her as she pulls off her jeans and panties, and then grabs my thighs to pull me closer to her dripping cock.

“are you wet for mommy? hm, you want mommy’s cock?” almost instinctually, i let out a breathy “yesss”

she pulls the thong to the side, once again revealing what she definitely shouldn’t be anywhere near. i don’t care anymore. i want it

her tip grazes against my soaked pussy, not quite pushing inside. “tell me how much you want it, honey. it’ll be our little secret.” fuck, she’s so mean. “so, so bad, mommy. please fuck me, i’ll do anything”

she bites her lip and sinks her cock into me, burying as deep as she can, quickly followed by her pulling back and then forward again

“you’re such a good slut for me, aren’t you? god, you’re so fucking wet, i knew you’d do whatever it took to get off” why is she able to read my thoughts like this? “mom, you feel so good, don’t stop.”

she doesn’t. even when i start to orgasm, she only fucks me harder. the ecstasy of my mom making me cum over and over reduces me to tears, moans, and the occasional “fuck fuck fuck fuck”

then i can feel it coming on, the big one. “mom, i’m…gonna cum.” “good girl, that’s what i wanted to hear” she picks up her pace, puts her thumb on my clit “cum for mommy, baby” that pushes me over the edge, i clench a fistful of sheets as a wave of bliss, the best orgasm i’ve ever had washes over me. i barely notice mom moaning louder than before, but then feel her release inside me

the warmth of her cum immediately starts to leak out of me as soon as she pulls out. before i can react to anything that just happened, she’s putting on her clothes.

“wait, mom, don’t you want to hold on a second?” “that was nice, honey, but your sister is coming over and the laundry isn’t done yet. get cleaned up and dressed”

yeah she’s treating me like her personal whore, but i’d be lying if i said i don’t like it

[moonstruckme]

Hi! A lil Sirius request or u could do it with one of the other boys (Remus James) but what about if his gf May be has an old injury that always flares up? (I hurt my knee years ago and even tho it's ok now every once a while if I over use it then it still hurts) and just fluff about her being upset her body won't cooperate and him just icing it and doting on her

Thank you for requesting!

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 623 words

“Try to get up one more time,” your boyfriend threatens, “and I swear to god I will sit on you.” 

“I just want the remote.” 

“And I’m getting it for you.” Sirius stretches towards the coffee table, keeping the ice pack held to your knee with his other hand. He grabs the remote that had been too far for you to get on your own, passing it to you with an exasperated look. “Relax, sweetness, you won’t miss your show.” 

“Thanks,” you huff, turning the TV on. Really, you just want the distraction. Your knee is still radiating a warm ache, your skin still prickling from the humiliation of having to admit it when Sirius had noticed your limp. 

“Don’t mention it,” he replies, voice quieter than usual. His touch is gentle as he adjusts the ice pack, careful not to press down too hard. You feel shitty for being snippy with him, and resolve not to speak until you can be trusted to do it nicely, in the way he deserves. 

It doesn’t work. Sirius is watching you, gaze shrewd and contemplative, fingers tapping a distracted rhythm on your ice pack. You keep your eyes obstinately on the TV, but it’s only a matter of time before he speaks up. 

“Penny for your thoughts, pretty girl?” 

You sigh, closing your eyes ashamedly. “I’m sorry.” 

Sirius tsks. “For acting pissy when you’re pissed? Don’t worry about it.” 

“I don’t have to be mean to you just because I’m pissed,” you say, tilting your head back on the couch cushions. “I just feel like I should be able to run a couple of blocks without crippling myself. It’s got nothing to do with you.” 

Sirius’ mouth pulls sympathetically. He brings his free hand to your hurting leg, rubbing up and down the back of your calf. “We did a lot of walking before, too,” he points out. “It was a big day.” 

“That’s just it.” Your mouth tastes bitter. “I’m not eighty years old, walking around shouldn’t be a big day for me.” 

“I know, baby,” he says softly. “I’m sorry, it’s shit. But when it’s cool out like this, and you’re putting a lot of pressure on your knee, you’ve just—you need to treat yourself a bit more gently.” You make a sour face, and Sirius squeezes your calf, lips slanting upward. “I know, you’re very rugged. You’re the picture of youthfulness and good health. But try looking after yourself the way I look after you, yeah? For my peace of mind.” 

He speaks with blasé lightness, but his words melt you like butter in the sun. You sigh heavily, feigning reluctance. “But you’re so good at it,” you complain. 

“It’s hard work, yeah.” Sirius’ canines peek out as he grins. “Don’t worry, I’ll train you up. You’d really be helping me out, taking a load off. And it’d free me up to do more things like this.” 

He keeps his eyes on yours as he leans down, dark lashes fluttering prettily close to his brow. Your cheeks heat. Sirius moves the ice pack momentarily, pressing a featherlight kiss to the skin just below your knee. 

“There,” he says decisively, putting the ice pack back in place. “It’ll be better by tomorrow now, guaranteed.” 

You bite down on your lip to keep a smile at bay. “I didn’t realize how much you’d be able to accomplish if we shared the responsibilities.” 

“Yes, well, I know I make it look easy, but it is a lot,” Sirius tells you with faux solemnity. “Is there anywhere else I should see to?” He makes a show of looking you over. “Tsk, that lip looks to be hurting, too. C’mere, gorgeous, let me take care of that.”

[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

[kaeyas-beloved]

It’s The Way He… || #2

Characters: Alhaitham, Cyno, Dainsleif, Heizou, Itto, Kaveh, Xiao, Wanderer

Summary: Just cute/heartwarming/breath-taking things he does <3

Genre: Fluff + Snippets

CWs: gn!reader (you/your), injuries (Cyno), petnames (my love; Kaveh),

a/n: did a pt. 2 because the last one got lots of love and I though they were really cute so I wanted to do some others <3

|| Pt. 1 ||

Alhaitham

It’s the way Alhaitham props his chin on you - your head, shoulder, just whatever is easiest at that moment - as you read. His eyes, a beautiful mix of green and orange, will skim the page you're on. It's no quantum physics or retelling of historic events, but if you like it then he'll give it a chance. Just, don't be too upset when he asks you to read faster, he wants to know what happens next is all.

"Are you almost done? I've finished the page. What? What's that look for?"

Cyno

It’s the way Cyno is so serious as he dresses your wounds, a stark contrast to the genlteness of his touch. It doesn’t matter if it’s a paper cut, a rash, burn or a gash from battle, it’ll receive the same level of attention and care from the general. If he had it his way he’d get Tighnari to fix you right up, because at least Cyno knows you’re in good hands, but that can’t always happen, so he’s your next best. In a way that’s alright, at least this way he can personally see to it that you’re looked after.

“This will sting a little, sorry, but it has to be cleaned. I’ll try to lessen the pain as much as I can and finish quickly. If you’d like, I can tell you some jokes to take your mind off of it?”

Dainsleif

It’s the way Dainsleif never forgets the little details about yourself. You could mention it once and he’s already committed it to memory, he's committed you to his memory. For 500 years he's walked alone, maybe not always physically, but it still felt like there hasn't been anyone with him. You are the first connection he's had in so long, and even if he's doomed to live long past you, the image of everything that creates you, he’ll will himself to remember for as long as he can, because just the thought of you makes him feel like he's alive once more.

“You told me once that the stars brought you peace. I thought it’d be nice to look out at them tonight, for they too do the same for me. However, if I was to be truthful, you, without a shadow of a doubt, bring me the most peace.”

Heizou

It’s the way Heizou leaves a riddle on the kitchen counter for you every so often before he leaves for work or errands. There’ll be clues scattered around the house for you to find as well, each one becoming more cryptic than the last. Of course, he knows you well enough to not make them so tough you can’t figure it out. He wants you to receive your prize after all~

“Did you figure out today’s riddle?” … “Heh, that’s correct, I knew you’d get it! Now, come and claim your reward. I think you’ll really enjoy it this time~”

Itto

It’s the way Itto runs up to you the instant he sees you in the streets of Inazuma, arms ready to grab hold and lift you as high as he can or as high as you allow. He'll even do a little spin with you he's that happy to see you. It doesn't matter if you’re alone or with someone, he is a loud and proud oni who shows off the person that owns his heart!!

"There you are my partner-in-crime, my beetle battle buddy, my number one! Say, if you're not busy how about you tag along with me? I just found this awesome raman place that's pretty cool if I do say so myself. How about we check it out?"

Kaveh

It’s the way Kaveh readily helps you with your outfit and any bells and whistles that go with it. As a renowned architect there are times where he’s invited to formal events, and you are his first go to for a plus one. And where there’s formal events there’s formal attire, and the hassle of making sure everything is perfect. Be it a tie or some piece of jewelry, Kaveh and his keen eye for detail are there to help attain that perfection.

“Ah, here, let me help. Sometimes, it takes another pair of eyes to catch if something’s off. Of course, you look stunning regardless my love. There, shall we head off?”

Wanderer

It’s the way Wanderer stumbles to match your pace. For as long as he's lived he's moved at his own pace, never once slowing or playing catch-up for others. For you though, he'll stop to admire the things he's overlooked due to his immortality, he'll race to make sure you don't run too far from him that he can't raech you. No longer does he run away from those he loves, now he runs alongside them.

"What? You stopped for a flower? It's pretty? Please, I can think of many more things that are prettier than some flower, but I suppose we have some time. Who am I to stop you from doing what your little heart desires."

Xiao

It’s the way Xiao carries with him the little gifts you give. May it be a flower, a picture, a letter or another object of some kind, the yaksha will have it tucked into the safest pocket he has. To you it may have just been something you picked up or made while thinking of him, but for Xiao, it’s his good fortune charm. Something that has a tangible weight to it, his constant reminder that someone is waiting for him back home. However, he can never bring himself to tell you this, covering up the why he brings it everywhere with some barely strung together excuses or redirections.

“Of course I’d take it with me, why would I not? Huh? You think I’d have no real use for it? Tsk, you still don’t know the ways of the adepti, do you?”

Tag list: @spoopy-fish-writes // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @mariposa666haruka // @quackquackmfs // @kaerui-kaisen // @ajaxstar // @genshin-impact-writings // @stage-lucida // @ventisweetheart // @lordbugs // @leena-shi // @lemontum // @akiria12167 // @ari-the-wr1ter // @dontmindmebeing // @xiaos-wife // @irethepotato

. . .

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[bellamoooon]

Will you let me hold you, please?

High school theater kid! Cooper x High school theater kid! Fem Reader

TW: extra corny bad written fic about a fruit salad 🤗

A.N: I completely understand if you do not want to finish reading this, I literally wrote this for funsies and because of the lack of cooper fics

"Have a little faith, Cooper is a great actor!" my friend Madelyn suggests as we walk away from the bulletin board. "I've seen him in a couple of school plays before, and plus, you are a great actress. I'm sure you'll do just fine."

"You do realize he's a sophomore, right? Maddie, I'm a freshman—he’ll be incredibly uncomfortable!" I say, turning to her as I glance down at my phone, checking the time. Five minutes until the first script read-through.

"Chill, Y/N. I had art with him last semester, and he’s honestly the sweetest human being. You’ll do just fine. Besides, he doesn’t talk to any of the other sophomores, so he doesn’t really care," she tries to comfort me, but it’s of no use. "He’s a 'go with the flow' kind of guy."

"Sure, yeah… Cooper, super nice, super chill, as cool as a breeze," I reply in an awkward voice as we reach the doors of the auditorium.

"Ew, don’t do that in front of him, please!" she laughs, patting my back. "Look, you got the role for a reason. You have talent. Thrive in it. It’ll be like home to you—I just know it." She smiles softly, and it makes me feel better. She always knows how to keep me grounded.

I sigh as I push open the door, stepping inside. I turn back to see Madelyn giving me two thumbs up. Dork.

I head to the front row of the empty auditorium, dropping my backpack into one of the seats. I glance around at everyone else, talking among themselves—none of them have noticed me yet.

"Hey, look! It’s Baby Moon!" Or so I thought.

I turn to see Liv, a senior, shouting from across the room. I remember her from when she was a junior and my brother, who had just recently graduated, was a senior. They had... a thing. No one really knew what it was—hell, I didn’t even know, and my brother tells me everything. When he graduated, he cut ties with her, saying it was for the best. He was right, but she refused to accept it. Ever since then, she’s made it her mission to make my life hell.

That’s why she got everyone to start calling me "Baby Moon," because of my last name. I hate the nickname.

"Thanks for the warm welcome, Liv," I say sarcastically as the others’ laughter dies down. She walks toward me with an arrogant smile. Can't wait to hear this.

"So, Baby Moon, congrats on the lead with Koch," she sneers, using Cooper's last name, which I know he hates—something Madelyn had mentioned.

"Thanks. Which role did you get? Tree number one?" I mock with a pout, to which she scoffs. "Relax, I know you wanted a low-profile role, so you went for the ensemble."

She rolls her eyes and walks away as we hear the theater teacher enter.

"Good afternoon, my beautiful actors and actresses! Today will be simple. We’ll have a first read of the scripts, and I’ll have the leads do a semi-improv chemistry test. Are we clear?" Everyone nods or mutters a 'yes' in response as she takes her seat in the front row with her clipboard. "Y/N, I see you're here. Has Cooper arrived?"

I look around. No sign of him.

"No, I haven’t seen him—"

"I’m here! Sorry! I’m here!" Cooper bursts through the door, his hair ruffled and his backpack hanging low from his arm. He must have sprinted from the other side of the school.

The teacher giggles softly. "It's alright, Cooper. Please grab a script."

He nods, grabbing the only remaining script from the second-to-last seat in the front row. He sits down, exhaling deeply, still panting from his run. He looks up, and our eyes meet for a brief moment before we both look away.

We finally start the read-through. I'm enjoying myself, and I glance around to see how others are reacting. Some look bored as usual, while others are laughing, and a few seem to be trying.

The teacher then announces the reading is over, and the leads are to come up to the stage for the chemistry test. I make my way to the stage, followed by Cooper, while the others remain seated, watching.

"I want to see some romance. Show me how you two connect, okay? Just let it flow," the teacher instructs.

I turn to Cooper, internally panicking about how I ended up in this situation, knowing I have zero guts for anything romantic.

"And... action!" the teacher calls out.

"I said I was sorry," Cooper says, his expression pleading, his voice taking on a whiny tone. Okay... think, Y/N, think.

"I-I don't know what to tell you. This was everything to me. You made a promise, and you broke it," I reply, spitting out the words with a mix of rage and a face on the verge of tears.

"Baby..." His voice softens as he steps closer, taking my hands in his. "I know I was wrong, but... I love you." He draws nearer.

"I just... I..." Before I know it, Cooper is down on his knees, his head level with my chin due to our height difference. One hand wraps around my waist while the other supports behind my knees.

"Please... I'll beg for your forgiveness if that's what you want. But please..." My hands instinctively move to his head—one running through his hair, the other resting on his cheek. "Please, baby... I promise I won't hurt you again."

A shiver runs down my spine as he speaks, his voice so smooth, so full of emotion that I almost forget we’ve never met before. Yet here he is, on his knees, begging for my forgiveness.

"I just can't... but you're just... so hard to get away from. You're like a drug to me. Tell me, love, what did you do to me? Why can't I walk away from you?" His face inches closer to mine, and without realizing it, I lean in too. Our lips meet—not rough or desperate, but soft and caring.

"And cut! Wow!" I pull away, realizing what just happened. My cheeks flush red as I turn to see the theater teacher smiling widely.

I turn back to find Cooper still on his knees, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist, making me blush even more. I extend a hand to help him stand.

"Nice to meet you, Cooper," I laugh, finally introducing myself after the whole unplanned scenario.

"Same here, Y/N." He laughs too, shaking my hand. Gosh, this is mortifying.

As Cooper stands up and shakes my hand, I can’t help but blush even harder. My cheeks feel like they’re on fire. I try to compose myself as the theater teacher begins to speak.

“That was absolutely brilliant!” she exclaims, clapping her hands together in excitement. “You two have incredible chemistry on stage. I’m feeling some real magic here.”

I turn back to Cooper, and we exchange a sheepish smile, still feeling the adrenaline from the scene we had just performed. My heart races as I realize we had just kissed. Even if it was just for the scene, it still left me feeling a bit flustered.

The theater teacher continues, "I knew I made the right choice in casting you two as leads! You're both incredibly talented, and you play off each other so well."

I glance at Cooper again, feeling a strange mix of butterflies in my stomach and a tinge of nervousness.

The teacher goes on, "I’m really excited to see what you two can do together. The opening night is in three weeks, so we better start working hard!"

I nod in agreement, still trying to process the events of the past few minutes. I can feel the eyes of the other cast members on us, some looking curious, others slightly envious.

Cooper speaks up for the first time, his voice as smooth as it was during the scene, "I’m really looking forward to working with you, Y/N."

“Me too… you’re really talented. You had me there for a second, and we just met.” I chuckle as we walk off the stage, grabbing our backpacks. “I’m not gonna lie, I was way too nervous before coming in. I thought you’d be, uhm— intimidating?”

Cooper chuckles softly as he walks beside me, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "Intimidating? Me?" he says jokingly. "I’m not sure whether to feel honored or offended that you thought I was intimidating," he laughs again, this time softer.

We reach the door, which he pushes open to let me go first. I mutter a small "thanks." “Well, probably a bit offended, seeing as I’m literally mocked by everyone in this school, so… I was kinda expecting the same.”

Cooper's expression softens when I mention the mocking, and I see a hint of concern in his eyes. He then speaks, "I’m sorry to hear that… but trust me, I’m not like everyone else. I’m a pretty chill guy, and I don’t see you as less than anyone because you’re a freshman or whatever it is they mock you about."

“That’s— thanks…” I smile softly as I notice him subtly biting his bottom lip. “If they ever ask for Baby Moon, just know, that’s me,” I say with a chuckle, feeling a bit flustered.

Cooper lets out a laugh, "Baby Moon, huh? That’s a new one.” He raises an eyebrow, still smiling. “I have a feeling that’s not the only nickname you’ve accrued.”

“Not at all, no,” I laugh, noticing his messy hair, which I’d messed up earlier when I ran my hands through it. “I’m— sorry about your hair. It was the moment,” I stammer, blushing even more.

Cooper laughs sheepishly, bringing a hand up to ruffle his hair. “Don’t worry about it. Besides, it looks better this way.” He glances at me with a playful smirk. “Though I can’t help but wonder if you just wanted an excuse to mess it up.”

“Then I wonder if you just wanted an excuse to kiss me,” I turn it back on him, trying not to burst into laughter.

Cooper’s eyes widen in surprise, clearly not expecting that response. A blush slowly creeps onto his face as he struggles to reply. He stutters out a quick response, “I—no—uh…” Then he breaks into laughter, clearly amused by my retort. “Damn, good one,” he says, still laughing.

“I’m just teasing you. I’m never serious,” I laugh as I see someone running toward us. I turn around and see Madelyn approaching with a knowing smile as she spots me standing there with Cooper.

Cooper chuckles at my comment, still amused by our exchange. We then turn to see Madelyn approach, her grin widening as she sees us together. She walks up to us, her eyes flickering between Cooper and me with an almost conspiratorial look.

“Well— I…I’ll see you tomorrow at rehearsal, Cooper,” I smile at him and glance at his messy hair again. “You better fix that, or people might get the wrong idea.”

Cooper gives me a sly smile, clearly enjoying the banter. “Sure thing. Can’t have people thinking I was making out with the lead now, can I?”

He then laughs and playfully fixes his hair a bit, though it still looks incredibly messy. “There. Better?”

“A mirror might help you,” I snort as I grab Madelyn’s arm. Cooper huffs in mock annoyance.

“Hey, I tried my best!”

Madelyn grabs my arm and begins to pull me away as Cooper calls out. “See you tomorrow! Don’t forget to practice your lines!”

“You bet I won’t!” I answer, blushing, knowing Madelyn would comment on Cooper’s "making out with the lead" remark.

After we walk away, Madelyn looks at me with a mischievous grin, her eyes practically sparkling with curiosity.

“So…” she begins, a hint of playfulness in her voice, “making out with the lead, huh?”

“It’s just— a joke, a joke. We didn’t, like… make out for real,” I say, stammering as I look down at my feet.

Madelyn smirks at me, clearly enjoying my flustered state. “So you did make out with him,” she says, still grinning. “Wow, you do not waste time, do you?”

“Shut up, will ya? This is so embarrassing. We just— kissed for the chemistry thing and… and we introduced ourselves after he’d stuck his tongue down my throat! God—” I cover my face with my hands. Please kill me.

Madelyn bursts out laughing, clearly finding the whole situation hilarious. "Oh my god, Y/N," she giggles. "You’re blushing so hard right now. And his tongue down your throat? Wow, so much for being the quiet one, huh?"

“Shut up!” I laugh, mortified by the whole situation. I will never EVER live this down. “I’m just glad it’s over, so the kiss in rehearsals and on opening night won’t be… awkward.” I sigh as the heat from my cheeks dies down.

Madelyn snickers as she slings an arm around my shoulders. "Oh, you'll be fine. As long as you can see him again in rehearsals and on opening night. I'm sure you'll have plenty more 'tongue down the throat' moments to look forward to."

“Maddie! Oh my gosh!” I yell as she bursts out laughing, clearly finding this whole thing incredibly amusing while I find it rather mortifying.

As we walk down the hallway, suddenly Liv stands in our way, making us stop. She steps in front of us with a smug smile on her face. "Well, well, well," she sneers, looking directly at me. "Looks like the freshman got lucky, huh?"

I cringe internally as I realize what she's referring to. Liv had always loved bringing me down. I don't say anything, just try to maintain my composure as I look at her blankly.

She continues, turning her attention to Madelyn. "I mean, who would have thought little Baby Moon would get the lead and a cute upperclassman all in one day?"

"Liv—" I feel blank, and I don't want to fight, but I also know Madelyn won't let this slide.

Madelyn, ever the outspoken one, steps in front of me, her expression hardening. "Cut the crap, Liv," she spits. "You know damn well that Y/N deserves that role more than anyone."

Liv scoffs, unfazed by Madelyn's words. "Please, just because she's a freshman doesn't mean she's any good. And I saw her with Koch earlier—he's way out of her league."

Madelyn rolls her eyes, clearly annoyed by Liv's condescending attitude. "You're just jealous," she snaps back. "Y/N's a damn good actress, and Cooper being into her just proves it."

"He's not—" I try to speak, but they both completely ignore me.

Liv smirks, not backing down. "Please, he's not into her, and even if he was, it's only because she's the lead. Once opening night is over, he'll dump her and move on to the next girl who gets the lead."

"He's not into me, and neither am I into him! It's just acting!" I snap, frustration bubbling over. "God, Liv, get a fucking life and stop snooping into mine because you're still obsessed with my brother! Go find a friend or something!" I gasp for air as I stop myself from saying anything else. Shit.

Liv's face goes slack at my outburst, clearly taken aback. Madelyn looks shocked, but I can see a hint of approval in her eyes. The hallway falls eerily quiet as people around us stop to look and whisper about what just happened.

"I—Liv, I'm so sorry—"

Liv takes a step back, clearly stung. She tries to keep her cool, but I can see the hurt in her eyes. "Shut up," she says, her voice strained. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

Madelyn steps between us, trying to diffuse the tension. "Okay, both of you, chill out," she says, her voice firm but calm.

Liv glares at me before pushing past us, bumping my shoulder as she walks away. Madelyn turns to me, a mix of concern and approval on her face. "That was intense," she says, shaking her head.

"I'm 100% screwed," I mutter as I stare blankly down the hallway. I was barely into freshman year, and my high school life was already over.

Madelyn sighs, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Hey, don’t worry too much about it. Yeah, Liv's probably pissed, but she'll get over it. And besides, this might actually work in your favor."

The next day comes around, and I'm walking into the auditorium for rehearsal. The events of yesterday are still fresh in my mind, and I can feel the tension in the air as I make my way down the aisle to the stage. Some of the cast members give me curious glances, clearly aware of the confrontation with Liv.

As I approach the stage, I spot Cooper sitting off to the side, going over some notes. He looks up and gives me a small smile, clearly aware of the awkwardness between us after the whole flirty interaction and making-out thing. I awkwardly return the smile and make my way beside him.

I set my backpack down and try to think of something to say, but before I can, Cooper breaks the silence. "Hey," he says softly. "How are you holding up after yesterday?"

"I see you've heard about my little outburst to Liv—like everyone else." I shake my head as I pull the script from my backpack. "You never realize how quickly gossip spreads until you reach high school."

Cooper lets out a small laugh, clearly amused. "Yeah, I heard about it," he says, still smiling. "But don't worry too much. Half the people in this school have probably gotten into a fight with Liv at some point."

"Yeah, well, I'm not exactly thrilled to be one of Liv's mortal enemies." I smile as I turn the pages of the script, marking specific sections with numbers and lines. He lets out another soft laugh, mirroring my actions.

"Well, if she keeps you as her mortal enemy, she can count on having two now," he says, his eyes meeting mine. "I've got your back. I'm not a raging asshole."

I laugh, looking down at my hands, feeling a bit flustered by his words, though my head pounds lightly. He barely knew me, yet he was already being so sweet. But then Liv’s words echoed in my head for some reason.

He was probably just being nice because I was the lead. He has no reason to be this nice or "have my back."

"Yeah, thanks..." I say softly, trying to push Liv's voice out of my head. She's the raging asshole, not Cooper.

"By the way, have you read through the whole thing?" He closes his script. "I'm obsessed with the confession scene," he says, grabbing my script and flipping through the pages until he lands on a specific part with a grin. I yawn as he hands the script back to me. "Sleepy? It's barely 11:30, you know?" he snorts, seeing my tired expression.

"Yeah, just—" I yawn again. "Yeah, just a little." I smile softly, though it was far more than just a little. I hadn't slept more than an hour and hadn't eaten anything yet, only drinking water all morning.

"Well, better wake up, kid. We've got some rehearsing to do," he laughs as he gets up and walks on stage. Our teacher stands up and starts indicating the scenes we'd be rehearsing during the week, and something about costumes, though I don't really hear any of it as the room spins around me.

"Y/N, get into place with Cooper, sweetheart," she calls out. I walk slowly, carefully stepping onto the stage. I glance at Cooper, his expression showing clear confusion, as if to say, "She was fine a couple of minutes ago."

"Okay, Cooper, start on the second line on the third page, scene two. You there?" He quickly reads through the page and gives a thumbs-up. The teacher then turns to me. "Y/N, are you with us, love?"

I glance down at the page, then up at her and nod softly, trying to ignore my exhaustion and pounding headache.

"Mhm." Cooper turns to me, still looking concerned but saying nothing.

"Alright then, Cooper, on my count," the teacher says. "And... action!"

"I haven't seen you around here, are you new?" Cooper says, holding his hands behind his back as he moves steadily closer. "I'm Alec. You are?"

"Yeah, that’s—me, new—nice to meet you." I stretch out my hand, and he rolls his eyes with a playful grin. "Roni, I'm Roni, a pleasure."

"Well, Roni, what brings you around here? Little spoiler: there's not much to see." He turns his back on me, taking a few steps away before stopping and spinning around.

"My—my..." I try to step back, but my legs wobble. I let out a shaky breath, struggling to finish my line. "My—mom, she's on boyfriend number four, so..."

"Oh—messy home life?" His brows furrow as he sees me stumble. "Everything alright?"

"Not—not really, but I can live with it." My breathing becomes shaky as the whole auditorium spins faster. Cooper glances at our teacher, then back at me. I attempt to take another step, but my knees buckle, and I feel myself fainting.

Cooper rushes over in an instant, wrapping his arms around mine as he fell to the ground with me in his arms and falling onto his lap.

A few gasps were heard as the whole thing happened. Cooper stroked some hair out of my face as he checked me over. The teacher called a fifteen-minute break before coming up to check on me and Cooper, who hadn’t left my side.

“Y/N, sweetie, what happened? Are you alright? Did you get hurt?” she asked, grabbing my chin and turning my face from side to side as she checked me. I shut my eyes, still dizzy from the tumble.

“Yeah, just—tired. I had a long night, that’s all.”

“Y/N, you collapsed. You would’ve hit the ground if I hadn’t caught you,” Cooper spoke up as someone handed him his backpack after he silently signaled for it. “You are in no state to rehearse today.” The teacher nodded as he pulled out a chocolate protein bar and handed it to me. “You have to eat something, please.”

“Cooper, I’m fine—really.” As our teacher walked away, he opened the wrapper and placed the bar in my hand. I turned to him, and he just remained silent. “Cooper—”

“Eat. I can’t have my love interest fainting on me,” he chuckled. Finally, I gave in and took a bite, feeling immediate relief as something hit my stomach after hours of starvation.

I finished the bar, and I realized I was still sitting between Cooper’s legs as he held me, not letting go at any moment. I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks as I saw him smiling down at me. I tried to get up, but he gently took hold of my wrist.

“Will you let me hold you here for a while, please?” he asked shyly, sighing. “Rest here for a bit. I just want to make sure you’re okay, please.”

“You are... too sweet. Fine,” I replied, staying in place as Cooper wrapped his arms around my neck from behind. I shook my head with a small smile.

“Is this a bad moment to ask if you’d like to get coffee with me sometime?” he asked, peeking his head around the side. I let out an audible laugh. Madelyn was right—he might just be the sweetest human being ever.

[chatterbox-73]

Kinktober 2024.

Day 14. - Double penetration.

Kōutarō Bokuto/Tetsurou Kuroo x fem!Reader

This story is a smut story for Kinktober, I’ll be writing more characters x reader one shots for Kinktober and if you want to see a character please let me know...

You must be 18 years or older to read this...

🔞⚠️NO MINORS ALLOWED⚠️🔞

A/n: it’ll make more sense if you read part one first… also because I didn’t make it clear, they’re college students.

Here is the Part 1.

Summary: After being caught by Bokuto, Kuroo invites him to join the fun.

Word count: 1.7k

CW: NSFW and adult content, Gay moment Kuroo and Bokuto, double penetration, oral (f!receiving), eating cum, anal play, anal sex, grinding, swearing, pet names, unprotected sex, threesome, and rough sex.

You, Kuroo and Bokuto walked slowly back to Kuroo’s unit, as the three of you walked an awkward silence sat over the group. Well actually the silence only sat over you and Bokuto, Kuroo had no problem talking, he was even cracking jokes like ‘considering how bad both your chemistry grades were back in high school, he should actually tutor the both of you’ he’d laugh, while you and Bokuto could only awkwardly hum.

The closer and closer the group got to Kuroo’s place, the more panic rose in your chest, ‘maybe I should just turn and go home?’ You thought and figured with your fingers. You suddenly felt someone touch your shoulder, looking up you found Bokuto’s concern filled face looking down at you and he smiled as to ask if you were okay, you smiled back and nodded. ‘Well if I’m going to try with Kuroo and someone else, I’m glad it Bokuto’ you thought and look straight ahead, before running up behind Kuroo and kicking the back of his leg, his legs buckled and he almost fell and this made Bokuto break out in laughter. The rest of the walk to the unit, that awkward tension set by you and Bokuto disappeared and the three of you laughed and joke about all kinds of things, this obviously helped ease yours and Bokuto’s tensions by the time you all made it to the unit.

Once stepping inside and taking off your shoes, you were instantly scoped up in Kuroo’s arms and he walked you to the bedroom, “hey Bokuto hurry up, or I’ll fuck her all by myself” he called out, looking of his shoulder at his owlish friend and Bokuto quickly followed in Kuroo’s foot steps. You were dropped on the bed and you quickly sat up to look at Kuroo, “strip down for him” Kuroo demanded while pointing a thumb at Bokuto, who was now standing beside him.

You started by moving so you were sitting up on the bed in front of Bokuto, he looked down at you in surprise and lust, you then slowly lifted your shirt off and dropped it on the ground, before unclipping your bra and dropping it.

You moved to kneel on your knees and so you could take off your skirt, so you could support yourself, you rested a hand on Bokuto’s toned stomach and you could feel him tense, you unzipped your skirt and slipped it off before leaning back off your knees and back onto your butt. You reached for Bokuto’s hands as you made eye contact with him, before moving his hands to your underwear, Bokuto took the hint and slowly pulled them off your legs.

You laid back with your legs close slightly watching Bokuto intensely while he examined your dirtied underwear, that had been soaked with your juices and Kuroo’s cum from earlier. Kuroo placed an arm over Bokuto’s shoulder and pulled the underwear out of his hands and dropped them on the ground, “bro, I’ll get you a pair that I haven’t soiled later, but for now you can’t just leave this beautiful little kitten just lying there waiting… we’ve gotta get her ready for our cocks” Kuroo chuckled into Bokuto’s ear and watched as he shivered.

Kuroo pulled your legs apart for his friend to examine you, “front or back” Kuroo hummed, Bokuto swallowed“back” he huffed looking from you to his friend and back to you, Kuroo chuckled “well you need to stretch her out with your fingers first, otherwise it feels like she’ll squeeze your dick right off… trust me I know” he trailed a hand down to rub your clit slowly. “Will it hurt her if I don’t stretch her out first? Because I really like a tight squeeze” Bokuto asked Kuroo as he intensely watched your dripping cunt, “nah it won’t hurt her, you’ll had to get her wet or lube her up…” Kuroo smiled and pointed a thumb to the bedside table, before continuing on, “though she loves it up the ass… or really she just loves cock inside her” Kuroo teased and grabbed you face in his hand, “tell him!” He demanded and you nodded before looking at Bokuto, “I love it up my ass” you moan as your face reddened.

Bokuto knelt down and grabbed the back of your upper thighs, spreading them, before leaning in and pressing his tongue against your tight ring, you moaned and threw your hand back, you rested on your elbows and your toes curled, “oh fuck, yes” you cried and looked at kuroo as he stood, he walked around the bed to the side table and watched as his friend licked and slurped you hole, all while his nose rubbed your messy cunt. Kuroo leant over after grabbing a bottle of body oil and began quickly rubbing your clit, “I’m gonna cum, oh god Bokuto” you moaned and reached a hand down before grabbing a fist full of his hair, “your tongue is amazing” you rolled your head back and began bucking your hips, your orgasm suddenly hitting you.

You sat up and pulled Bokuto up before leaning in and licking the mess off his nose, “do you usually fuck girls with your nose?” You hummed as you savoured the taste of cum on his nose, “my nose is always willing to help when I eat them” the man chuckled and you hummed running your fingers down his chest, “if your nose is that good at making me cum, I can’t wait to feel this thick cock” you giggled as your hand rubbed over the large bulge in his pants.

Kuroo huffed and climbed onto the bed, before grabbing your arm and pulling you round to look at him, “I’m feeling left out guys, pay attention to me” he pouted and you rolled your eyes, you pressed a hand on his chest and pushed him back to lay down, “left out? Please you were enjoying the show” you hummed and he laughed as he pulled you over him, Kuroo pulled your hips down and pressed hardness into your sopping opening, before he began guiding you rub yourself against his hard member, you were getting closer to reaching your peck and it didn’t help you could feel Bokuto’s eyes burning holes into your ass, suddenly you tipped over the edge and dropped down onto Kuroo’s chest.

Kuroo pick up the bottle of oil off the bed and passed it to Bokuto before he placed a hand on your head and the other on your ass, he held your head into his chest as he pulled your ass cheek to expose your puckered ring, “come on bro, oil her up and she’s all yours…” he smiles and watched as Bokuto opened the bottle and pour a large amount all over your ass before massaging it all over your ass and working all over and a little into your hole, “holy shit… you’re not messing around, well go on and fuck my little kitten, ruin her” Kuroo chuckled and a slight hint of excitement settling in.

You felt Bokuto’s large, lubricated tip poking and prodding at your hole before he spat on it, he then rubbed his tip against it before forcing it in, you moaned and wiggled as Bokuto pushed all the way in, to the hilt, “oh wow… this is…” he moaned loudly as he began to thrust.

You gasped at how full Bokuto was making you, sure Kuroo’s cock is big and in fact it’s definitely slightly longer then Bokuto’s, however he’s is certainly thicker then Kuroo’s and has twice the amount of thick bulging veins, you manage lean back into Bokuto’s chest and reach back to grab the back of his neck, “fuck me” You look Kuroo dead in the eye and cried out, Kuroo and Bokuto didn’t know who you were talking to, but nether did you. Following your request Kuroo slipped himself inside you with little resistance, however both him and Bokuto groaned at the feeling of your velvet walls struggling to take them both, you on the other hand, couldn’t even form a response to the fullness they gave you… the way Bokuto’s thick and veiny member dragged against your sensitive rectum and how Kuroo’s long and curved member brushed against both your cervix and g-spot as he thrusted… the guys had started to become rough and desperate, they could really only think of cumming and the pleasure this gave you, caused you fell forward onto Kuroo’s chest again.

As you laid against kuroo’s chest, as his hips roughly trusted upwards, and his hands grabbed your ass cheeks spreading them so bokuto could trust into your ridiculously tight asshole with ease.

Bokuto was being twist as rough with you, he had one hand pushed the side of your face into kuroo’s chest and the other held your hip to stop you from moving, both men grunted while you whimpered and cried.

Your eyes were screwed shut as you inched closer and closer to your incoming orgasm, however you were distracted by kissing sounds but you didn’t feel anything kissing you, you opened your eyes and looked up at your boyfriend only to see him making out with his friend. The site of your lips locked and tongues tangling together pushed you over the edge, you let out a silent scream as your body tensed and shudder as indescribable waves of pleasure washing through you, both the men suddenly pushed deep inside you and a harmony of slurred filthy cusses filled the room, as two thick warm loads filled you. “Good girl… thank you for sharing bro” Bokuto whispered in a husky tone as he pulled out of you and leaned back before stepping off the bed, “dude where you going? It’s time for cuddles and pillow talk” Kuroo rolled both of you on your side and reached out for Bokuto.

Despite Kuroo promise of pillow talk, the three of you lied under the covers cuddling in absolute silence. “This is nice I want this all the time” you hummed sleepily, not realising what you’ve just done to the future of your relationship.

Kinktober Masterlist

Day 13 - Hanta Sero: Tied.

Day 15 - Jiraiya: Seeing red.

[mentally-gone002]

sick and into you

summary: spencer takes care of you while you’re sick

a/n: so obsessed with him i can’t!!!!!!😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

————————————————————————

ring… 

ring… 

ring-

“hello?” 

i pinched the bridge of my nose in a desperate attempt to make my piercing headache go away. my ringtone brought it back worse than it was before the loud interference. 

someone cleared their throat on the other end of the line before they spoke, “hey, are you coming into work? it’s almost noon.” 

it was spencer and he sounded worried. he had that little twinge of a rasp. i call it his “worry rasp” whenever i pick up on it.

i stifled a cough before answering. “no, i’m sick. i called hotch earlier to let him know.” the balled up tissue in my hand pressed into my runny nose. 

“do you need me to bring you anything?” his voice was still laced with concern i could pick up on even through the slight distortion the phone gave his voice.

i shook my head slightly and then answered him because he couldn’t see me. “no, spencer, i’m fine. plus, i have germs.” 

spencer scoffed. “everyone has germs.” his argument made me smile slightly. 

“but you don’t like germs. they make you feel icky.” 

“well, i can handle feeling ‘icky’ so don’t worry about me. i can go get soup from that cafe you really like.” he offered. i smiled at how he used the same word as me. it was something he definitely wouldn’t say any other time. “please, let me help you.” 

“spencer, i promise i’m okay. you stay at work and get all those excruciating files done, i’d love you so much if you did some of the ones on my desk. i’ll be back in two days tops, okay?” my throat hurt from that long running sentence so i started coughing. the phone moved away from my ear so he wouldn’t hear the extent of the ragged sound scrapping through my throat. 

when the phone came back to my ear it was quiet over the line. “you okay?” spencer asked after a beat of silence. i hummed, swallowing my spit to make the burn go away. “i’ll go so you can get some rest. drink a lot of water because it’ll flush out the sick. and try to eat.”

“okay… sorry i’m not in today.” i laid down on my couch with a groan. 

“don’t apologize.” spencer told me gently. 

i smiled with closed eyes. “okay. i’ll go now.” 

“okay, feel better. bye.”

“bye, spencer.” 

i dropped my phone next to me on the couch. i kept my eyes closed until i felt like i was drifting to sleep, which could have taken an hour or just two minutes. time didn’t matter because my headache slowly wore away until it was a light beating pain that matched my heartbeat. 

my body did that fake falling thing right as my mind went completely blank. i sat up in a rush, sweat creating a cling between my clothes and skin. my hair was messy and stuck to my neck and forehead.

once my body was upright i heard a sequence of knocking from my front door. 

with a groan i stood up. my muscles ached and i shivered at the feeling of my cold floor on my bare feet as i padded across it. i didn’t bother looking through the peephole before opening the door wide enough to see who was knocking. 

“spencer? i thought i told you to-“

“i know what you told me but i didn’t listen.” he held up a hand as he interrupted me. 

i nodded, squinting at the hallway lights from the complex. “obviously.” i stepped aside to let him in. “i look awful.” i grumbled to myself.

he smiled with tight lips as he did while he took off his shoes. he placed a plastic bag on my kitchen table near the door. “you look fine. maybe a little tired, but at least you don’t look like some of the people we see on cases.” he rambled while toeing off his shoes. 

my eyes were stuck on the bag on the table. “you got food,” i sighed, walking back to my living room to grab my almost empty glass of water. i filled it up at the sink before saying, “i told you not to do any of what you’ve just done.” my headache was starting to come back.

spencer unwrapped the bag he’d brought with him, placing a covered paper take out bowl to the side. “this is for you.” he looked at me, not replying to any of what i’d just said. his eyes lingered on me for a little longer than i’d liked. my arms went around my body to try and hide. i sniffled and tried to conceal a cough in my elbow. 

“thank you.” i grabbed a spoon from the dish rack beside the sink and then took the container of soup to my couch to sit inside the circle of blankets i’d been in just minutes before. 

spencer joined me. “i did a file or two that was on your desk.” he told me, reaching for a book on my coffee table to flip through it. 

“you didn’t have to do that. i was joking earlier.” my brows were pinched together in regret for saying it at all because he can’t tell when someone’s joking most if the time. 

he shrugged. “i knew that, but i still wanted to help you out.” 

i nodded. “thank you, but you shouldn’t have.” 

silence fell over the room while i ate slowly and he read half of the book i didn’t even see the title of. 

my brows furrowed suddenly. “what time is it?”

spencer glanced at the watch on the inside of his wrist. “five twenty-three.” he looked over at me, watching my face contort from confused to surprised. “what?”

“i slept for four hours between our phone call and you getting here.” i focused on the windows of my apartment to notice the dimming light from beyond the blinds and the glass.

“your body needed it.” he hummed gently. i looked back at him as he kept on reading. he’s too smart sometimes but it’s his trademark and it’s lovable. “sorry, i don’t know how to not be ‘boy genius’.” he smiled. 

can he read minds now? it wouldn’t surprise me. 

i nodded. “it’s okay, i like it.” the spoon in my hand brought more soup to my lips. “how’s the book?” 

“good. i haven’t read any of your books before.” he flipped to look at the cover while keeping his place. “this is the book jj and penelope were talking about during a case.” he hummed. 

i got a look at the cover and laughed. “twilight. you’ve never read twilight?” my question made him look at me and then hesitantly shake his head. “oh, my god. i have all the others if you wanna read the rest of them. they’re so good.” 

he smiled at me gently. “why is everyone so obsessed with a series about vampires and werewolves?” 

“it’s not just a series about vampires and werewolfs, spencer. it’s a complex romance.” i told him very matter-of-factly which ended in a coughing fit from the most use my voice had gotten all day. 

spencer moved closer, or i guessed he did because of how to couch dipped as i had my head turned away from him. he placed a hand on my back. “don’t overwork yourself by telling me about a series.” he was smiling, i could tell. “can i do anything?” 

i shook my head. “no, you’ve done a lot already. and you’re risking getting sick.” 

spencer sighed, keeping his hand on my back as he went back to reading with only one hand. “i don’t mind helping, you know.” he was too selfless. “i can run you a bath, or make you some tea. both would help you.” 

i sighed. “you are relentless, spencer reid.” the soup in my hands was placed on the coffee table so i could turn myself and face him. 

the hand he had on my back slid to my leg, resting a few inches above my knee. “i did come all this way.” he smiled, leaning further into the couch. “now let me help.” 

i sniffled and cleared my throat. “a bath would be nice.” 

he nodded and rose from the couch slowly. i watched as he walked around the couch and to my bedroom. i stood and followed. 

“you’re a good man.” i told him from the doorway of my bathroom. he looked back at me from the ledge of the bathtub. 

he smiled. “you’re the only person i’d do this for.” 

————————————————————————

idk why but i wanna do a part 2??? lmk if h should just because lolz

[kimabutch]

So I used to have intense cooking anxiety, to the point of frequently crying and/or having panic attacks in the kitchen — and now I love cooking and it rarely stresses me out. In case anyone else is going through that same struggle, a) I’m really sorry, that sucks immensely and don’t let anyone tell you it’s silly and b) here are a few rules I’ve made for myself that have helped me tremendously.

Never cook while hungry. Ever. It makes me sad, tired, and frustrated, which makes me try to go faster than I should, which just makes me more sad, tired, and frustrated. I keep small snacks on hand at all times.

Abandon the oppressive clutches of time. Trying to cook at a “normal” pace was one of the biggest sources of anxiety for me, so I don’t try to do that anymore. The recipe says it’ll take X minutes? Fake number, ignore it. It take a million years to cut a clove of garlic? That’s fine, I’ll get better over time. Other people are hungry? They can have one of my small snacks. Doing two things at once is too stressful? Do them one at a time, fuck efficiency. I’m feeling overwhelmed in the middle of a recipe? Almost all recipes can be completely paused in the middle of cooking by simply taking them off the heat, with very little effect on the final product.

Look up anything and everything. The internet sucks in many ways, but it has also allowed me to search for “skillet” or “scallion” dozens of times when I’ve forgotten, without anyone else knowing. If I’m anxious about making a substitution, I look it up. If I don’t know why something’s taking so long to cook, I look it up. There’s no shame in it.

My kitchen, my rules. And when I’m cooking in a kitchen, it temporarily becomes my kitchen. I kick people out if I need to. I put on my music or stay in blissful silence. I know not everyone can do this one, but even something like putting on noise-cancelling headphones and asking people not to talk to me as I cook has been helpful in decreasing my stress when sharing a kitchen.

Repeat recipes. Making something I already know I can make is so much less anxiety-inducing than making something new. It lets me actually practice the techniques they use and eventually, to tweak the recipe (something that used to make me super anxious), and eventually go faster or be more efficient. Anyone who doesn’t want to eat vegetable fried rice once a week for a whole month doesn’t need to eat my cooking.

Hope that helps someone and good luck out there!

[msfantasy-anime]

Something Stupid

Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Summary: Izuku and Y/n finally make it official

Final Part

A/n: this was my first series started on this blog and it was never finished </3 anyway a rushed ending for the sake of closure.

Well there was no denying it.

You were head over heels for that bloody broccoli coloured hero.

God, how did you let this happen? How does one not notice when they’re falling in love?!

All questions that swim laps around your spinning mind as you try to make sense at the sudden shift in your heart.

Izuku Midorya, Japans number one hero, Deku, was the man who stole your heart. More so, he ardently admitted his love for you, and what did you do in return? Run away like the bloody coward you were.

This was just meant to be fun.

Feeling far too fragile in that moment to having your feelings returned. The prospect at a happily ever after in arms reach, it’s too frightening to give in. Besides your rational thoughts, continue to tear away at your optimistic thoughts.

Your a villain, plain and simple. He cannot be with someone who engages in illegal activity, it’ll ruin him.

His fan base will not tolerate someone who isn’t Uravity, he’ll loose his supporters.

It’ll ruin his career.

You’ll distract him from his duties as a hero, you might ruin his growth.

Your thoughts continue to spin erratically, abruptly stopping at the feeling of Izuku’s hand.

“Did you hear me? I said I was sorry for putting you in that awkward position. I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that.” Izuku said his hand caressing your own.

You quickly pull your palm away, feeling your nerves complain at the loss of comfort. Izuku only looked down at your hand glumly, sadden at your retreat.

“I cannot be with you Deku, it’ll ruin you. I cannot do that to you.” A small sad smile plays at his lips.

“I’m grateful that you are concerned about me, but seriously, you really don’t need to be so worried about my marketing, there are ways around it.” You begin to shake your head.

“No, Izuku, you are just confused. You’re in lust, not love.” You explain. To which Izuku looked firmly into your eyes.

“I know the difference, and I am in love with you Y/n.” Your cheeks burn at the declaration. Your mind reels away, coming up with a ‘real’ explanation. There is no way he can ‘love’ you, he barely knows you. “There are many things to love about you, and many more things to learn about you, but, the thing I love most about you is your unyielding compassion for others.” It was as if his words blew your dark world away. “Your whole career is centred around returning stolen mementos to those who cannot retrieve their rightful property. Your empathy for my friends- just you care so much about others. Even now, your telling me you don’t want to be with me because your concerned about how it would effect my career. But at no point have you admitted that you don’t love me.”

You bite down on your quivering lip.

“I-I can’t.” You whisper painfully. But Izuku’s face remains stern.

“Tell me why you can’t and I’ll leave you alone. Do you not like me?” You shake your head.

“… n-no…” The corner of his mouth tugs.

“Do you not want to be with me?” He asks, making your heart clench.

“No! I-I do but-“

“But what?!” He asks firmly, you continue to squirm under the uncomfortable confrontation of having to openly admit your true feelings.

“I’m just not good enough for you.” You finally admit, half expecting Izuku to accept your answer and agree. But instead he continues to press on.

“Why?” Your thoughts come to a stuttering halt.

“I… don’t know.” But Izuku stares at you unsatisfied in your response, so you continue. “I’m just … scared.” You whisper, making Izuku hunch into the table and grabbing your hand tightly.

“I’m scared too.” He whispers making your heart thud. “I’m scared I won’t get a chance to love you the way you should be- that you’ll reject me and I’ll go home alone. I’m scared that even if I put myself out there and we get together. You’ll just stop liking me one day and it’ll all end.” But you begin shaking your head.

In what world would you just stop loving Izuku?

“Fuck it. You’re right. I-I do want to be with you but can we take it slow? Figure out out footing first before we tell our friends?”

“Deal.” Izuku agrees, leaning over and planting a lip lock kiss.

[goosita]

working as young!politician!coryo’s secretary is usually a fairly calm job, not too stress inducing.

most days, you greet people who come in for meetings with coriolanus, send out emails and faxes, make and take phone calls for his office, and keep a steady flow of fresh coffee at all hours. then, you tidy up your desk when the day is done and you wait for your best friend to come pick you up and drive you home from work.

today was going according to plan, having been an especially easy day. mr. snow had been out for most of the afternoon, only returning about an hour ago. the phones had been quiet as well, giving you time to finish all of your work on the computer you had put off. it was rounding out to be quite the easy day, until your best friend called 5 minutes before you were due to clock out for the evening.

“i’m sorry! the tire just exploded, literally. and now i’m stuck waiting here for god knows how long for a tow truck. i’m so sorry,” they babble, clearly feeling incredibly guilty.

“it’s fine, i promise. i can just call a taxi or something.”

out of the corner of your eye, you see coriolanus leave his office, turning to lock the door behind him. he glances at you curiously.

“are you sure? i don’t know how long it’ll take but—“

“yes, i’m sure,” you cut them off, sighing. “cab fair to my place is only a few dollars, i’ll survive. let me know when you make it home though, alright?”

your friend laments and agrees to send you a message when they’re home, hanging up. you barely hold in a heavy sigh, sliding your phone into your bag.

“need a ride?” coriolanus asks, tilting his head to the side just-so. it startles you for a moment, having forgotten he was standing right there.

“oh, no. thank you, mr. snow, but i’ll be okay. i can call a cab,” you tell him, cheeks warming.

“nonsense, can’t let a lovely young lady like you risk getting into some seedy cab,” he insists. he gives you that charming grin, the one that makes the smile line near his cheek deepen prettily. you hesitate for a moment longer before he steps closer, offering his arm.

you try not to let it show that your fingers tremble just slightly, slipping your arm through his and resting your hand in the cradle of his elbow. coriolanus smiles even wider, leading you outside to the parking garage reserved for the building.

“thank you, mr. snow,” you say quietly as you walk beside him. he shakes his head and chuckles under his breath.

“it’s past business hours. you can call me by my first name, you know.”

you don’t know what exactly to say to that, simply offering a hum in response. coriolanus leads you to a sleek black car where a man in an equally sleek black suit stands at the driver’s side door. coriolanus holds his hand out to the man, who gives a look of surprise but drops the car keys into his palm.

“i’d like to drive myself this evening, gerald. thank you.”

he leaves no room for questioning as he walks you to the passenger side, his driver quickly disappearing. coriolanus opens the door for you and gently holds your hand as you slide in, giving you a soft grin as he closes the door. when he walks around the front to the driver’s side door, you speak up.

“i live on pr—“

“i know,” he cuts you off. you swallow, watching him sit down and start the car. he must sense your confused before he sees it on your face, because he speaks again.

“i have a good memory. i saw it on your application last year and remembered you live on the same street as an old friend,” he explains. you nod, looking down at your hands in your lap.

coriolanus smoothly pulls out of the parking spot, resting his hand on your headrest as he turns to look out of the back window. it’s so hard not to stare, to look at the way his neck is exposed like this. his jaw is so sharp, skin smooth and pale. you can smell his scent lingering in the small space between you; that intoxicating mix of roses and spice and metal.

“it’s not polite to stare,” he teases, turning his body back to the front. his hands settle comfortably on the wheel, his icy stare focused on the road.

“i-i’m sorry, mr. snow. i didn’t mean to.”

“coriolanus,” he purrs. “coryo, if you prefer.”

coryo. not just his first name, but a nickname. your hands feel clammy.

“coryo,” you say softly, almost under your breath. he hums in acknowledgment, the corner of his mouth quirked upward.

it goes silent in the car after that, your mind working overtime to try and figure him out. the last few weeks have been nothing short of dizzying, his lingering gazes and teasing quips, just shy of innuendos. you think back to the way he had watched you with the lollipop in his mouth, the way he had dragged his tongue over the red candy and the stain it had left on his plush lips. the way you’d been unable to stop thinking about what those lips would taste like against your own, sticky with cherry and sugar.

a warm hand settled on your thigh, breaking you out of your thoughts as you jump slightly, looking over at him. still, his eyes are glued to the road, as if he wasn’t doing anything at all besides driving.

“coriolanus…?” you murmur, glancing down at his hand. his fingers are long, spanning over your clothed thigh almost completely. his fingertips just barely brush the inseam of your trousers, but he’s still about it. he doesn’t move to stroke or caress, just rests there in your lap.

“yes, darling?” he says evenly. you don’t know why, but the petname makes your breath hitch. “everything alright?”

you breathe out slowly, slightly shakily. “yeah— yes.”

coriolanus smiles, eyes flickering to you just once before returning to the street. after a few more moments, he’s pulling onto your street and parking outside your apartment.

“here we are,” he says unceremoniously. like his palm isn’t burning through your pants on your leg, making you hold in a shudder. “home, safe and sound.”

it takes you a few moments to find your voice again, nodding. “thank you for the ride, mr. sn—….coryo.”

“you’re very welcome, my darling,” he says; and there it is again. that endearment. “i’ll see you in the morning.”

you nod and go to open the car door, letting his hand fall from your thigh. you grab your back and close the door behind you, turning and quickly hurrying up the sidewalk to the front steps of your building before you hear his voice call out again.

“miss y/n?”

you stop and turn, seeing that he rolled the window down.

“sweet dreams.”

[hxrnyhunter]

Finding someone cute while out and about. Smelling their scent and knowing they’re my mate. Stalking them, waiting until I get them alone. It doesn’t matter how long it takes or where it is. Maybe they go for a hike in the woods. Maybe they use the restroom in an isolated area. Maybe they live alone. In this case, let’s just say it’s an isolate restroom in a mall.

I make sure no one comes in before locking the door to the building of the restrooms from the inside and wait outside the doors leading into the stalls. I hear you washing your hands, my t-dick aching. I’m going to use you until it stops. You come out, confused to see me standing there and a little uncomfortable. You try to push past me to get to the door. Stupid human.

That’s when I’ll grab you, pining you to the wall. “You aren’t getting away that easy,” I tell you as I start to shift, letting my claws easily tear apart your clothes.

You’re crying and begging me to let you go, but that’s never going to happen. Instead I force one of those long claws into your mouth, watching you gag on it as you try not to cut yourself. Your body pressed against the wall, trying not to let me touch more of it as I finally tear off the rest of your clothing, but I will. I’ll touch all of it.

You’re my mate and I want to be gentle the first time, but I’m too turned on, and you’re too gorgeous. All I can do is turn you around, adding another long clawed finger into your mouth. I force your legs apart before sinking my monstrous cock inside of your too tiny human cunt. With your face pressed against the wall, I don’t have to see you cry, and with my claws in your mouth, I don’t have to hear you beg for mercy.

I’ll knot you quickly, watching as your cunt clenches around my knot, trying to push it out. You whimper and cry against my fingers, but I don’t stop forcing you to bounce on my cock even when knotted. Instead I pick you up, carrying you to the sink.

“Look at my slutty little mate. You like this, don’t you?” I mock as I start fucked into you again, forcing you to watch yourself be used.

Your makeup is ruined. Tears spilling down your face. All you can do is cry. And now that I know how good you feel, I don’t care about seeing you cry or not. I need you to know you’re not going anywhere.

Finally my knot deflates enough for me to pull out, so I do. I see the relief on your face until I pull the claws out of your mouth, forcing them into your ass. You cry out, starting to struggle again.

“Shhh Pup. I need to stretch this hole or it’ll hurt you too much,” I say with mock concern, slamming my long claws into your poor ass.

You beg and come up with all kinds of reasons why I should stop, but I don’t. Instead I grab your hair, holding your head in place so you have to watch your expression as I force myself, inch by inch, into your still tight ass. You scream, begging me to stop, which just makes me slam into you.

“Cry all you want. It just makes you tighter around my cock,” I tell you before biting onto your shoulder hard enough to taste blood. Maybe I’ll last longer this time.