#and breaks him out of the mental hospital and marries him

[nururu]

Id v is so crazy for making a big lizard man hunter with braided rows and then make him a survivor persona and they made him a skinny white man with rows.. not just that but he's a redhead too......... There's like only 2 genuinely poc characters in this game.... And one of them the devs are constantly drawing as a white man for no reason. the one guy who's supposed to be native American is just a white cowboy who was adopted by a tribe.

[scientia-rex]

One of my patients used to be a Big Deal Specialist in the city and you can just TELL he’s SEETHING that no one out here is even qualified to understand what he did, much less how important he was. He’s also terrified of death. It’s both annoying and really sad. Like, sir, I hate to break it to you, but no amount of knowledge will protect you from the ravages of time. It’s a special kind of hell to know the stages of various fatal diseases intimately. What is it going to feel like when it’s my turn? How do doctors want to die? Suddenly, quietly. Slip away painlessly in my sleep. But how likely is that? Not very. More likely I’ll get cardiovascular disease or cancer, the greatest killers of our time.

He was so afraid of cancer he had an organ that wasn’t cancerous removed just in case. He talks down to me as if I’m his student, and who knows? Maybe I was. He was in the same city as me, and they were forever dragging Big Name Doctors in to teach us things. Maybe I learned how to elicit Achilles tendon reflexes from him.

But mostly I find myself a little scornful. Who lives without the shadow of death? Who doesn’t think about death all the time? When you die, life is a round thing, finished and whole. What will your life look like when God holds it in the palm of his hand?

Also don’t fucking call me by my first name unless I’ve specifically said you can. I don’t GIVE that permission to patients, except for my mentally ill trans and queer patients. If I wanted to be disrespected by an older man I would have married young.

You do not have time. This important doctor who based his whole life around his importance lived as rich and full a life as anyone. And now he’s clinging to it, leaving fingernail marks on the walls on his way out. No one has time. There will be a moment when you’re dying when you think, I would give anything I have to be back in that moment. Any ordinary moment. Taking the dogs out to go potty. Browsing at the grocery store. When you’re being crucified on a hospital bed, dying and aware of it through the morphine, you would give anything you ever possessed to go back and have one more agony-free afternoon. Sit on a curb or a stoop. Walk through a park. Hug your spouse. These tiny fragmentary moments that we are constantly sliding through, tobogganing past at high speeds, these are what will be our life when our life is over.

I am accountable to that self. To the dying me. What did I do with this gift and curse? I don’t believe in God, but I know that I will die, and I have watched enough dying people by now to know the kinds of things I’ll think about. I want to make that me proud of what I’ve done and how I’ve spent my life. She will be a harder judge than God, and I want her to look at this one little life and think, yes. I did what I meant to.

[bejeweledblondie]

Simon “Ghost” Riley Headcannons

A/N: these are loosely inspired from real life experiences I’ve had living on a military base, these men have a on & off switch it’s crazy

Simon “Ghost” Riley x F! Reader

Warnings: NSFW

• Simon first saw you while he was in the States for a training exercise, he was out at one of the local bars with some of the other soldiers he was with

• Soap had actually asked for your number first & since he was so intoxicated you turned him down

• Simon apologized for Soap & that’s how you met

• he did have a heart attack when he found out there was a bit of a age gap between you two but quickly got over it when he realized how mature you were

• it was a long distance relationship at first (from personal experience it sucks in the beginning)

• there were times when he couldn’t talk due to the risk of potentially exposing his teams location so you had to write letters every now & then

• you cried constantly whenever you saw some horrific news in the paper about what was going on overseas, the anxiety was awful

• but when he returned the reunions were euphoric

• you have a bottle of his cologne & aftershave so you can always feel close to him

• and you’d spray your perfume on the letters you sent so he couldn’t always smell the paper when he was missing you

• it took him sometime to open up to you about what had happened to him in his past, & your respected that

• when he first met your family, he was shocked by all the support he had received from them

• he asked your parents to marry you the first time he met them & showed them the ring too (ofc they said yes)

• he proposed to you in private after a nice dinner, he got choked up during the proposal

• your dad specifically was elated, he got to brag at how bad ass his son in law is

• your mom if she’s a teacher, had her entire class send cards, candy, anything they’d need in care packages Soap nearly cried when he opened the sweetest letter from a little girl (this actually happened irl my mom’s class did this & one guy got really choked up)

• Simon always would be your fiercest protector

• since he’s like an freakin tree he will guide your head with his bear paw of a hand in crowds

•he CANNOT sit with his back facing the door it stresses him out

•this man is strapped 24/7 whether that be a knife, bear spray etc. he’s ready

•he has a trauma kit in his car because “you never know”

•Simon is 1000% one of those apocalypse preppers you have freeze dried food, medicine, water, etc. he’s always on edge

• he sleeps with a damn rifle next to y’all’s bed

• you have a whole security system too

• your guy’s apartment is impeccable like you could eat off of the floor

• hell your guy’s bed has damn hospital corners

• Simon adopted a cat so you don’t feel as lonely when he’s deployed

• He’s your chonky boy & you do send plenty of photos to Simon when he’s deployed

• Gaz & Soap tease him about him living his “cat dad” life

• you start trying for a baby two years into your marriage

• Simon does fall victim to the “curse of the infantry” (which is not a negative thing btw it’s a running joke that infantry soldiers have all daughters) he makes girls

• he was deployed during your pregnancy & was worried sick he nearly missed the birth of your daughter

• that little girl is the most well protected baby in the whole world, the Task Force gifted him not just baby stuff but damn security for the nursery

• He watches your baby from his phone in the nursery on deployment, he was silently crying once when he was watching you sing a lullaby to your baby girl

•Price had to comfort him father to father

•In reality Simon has a very hard cold exterior at work for the sake of keeping his mental health for the profession he’s in but deep down he’s always held a soft spot & your relationship just brings it out

✨NSFW ✨

• there is a big size difference between you two & it drives him insane

• the first time y’all had together he didn’t want to break you in half

• when he returns from deployment y’all go at it like rabbits for multiple rounds, your poor pussy was so sore afterwards

• has a massive corruption & daddy kink

• he’s an ass man I don’t make the rules here so any position where your ass if the focal point is his favorite

• y’all have made so many sex tapes for him when he’s deployed, he has a whole folder on his phone & jerks off to them in the bathroom or the porta potty (it’s a canon event, trust me) to them

• he lets your cockwarm him constantly when you’re on the couch, when he’s working, hell y’all had even fallen asleep like that

• I know people say he has a Prince Albert piercing but alas per army regulation that is safety risk I think it’s more likely he’d use a cock ring on you

• during a military ball you two snuck off & fucked in a supply closet

• he couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel room after seeing you in your gown, it was red his favorite color

• and he just looked so fucking good in his dress uniform, that was the night you totally conceived your baby girl

• he groans into your ear when he cums & he’ll use his body to just eclipse yours

• “one more baby girl” & “c’mon pretty girl use your words tell me what you want”

• is a sucker for babydoll lingerie it brings your innocence & triggers his corruption kink

• moral of the story Simon Riley fucks

[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

[pinknatural]

what if two guys were falling in love and then broke up epically and then one of them died and the other carried around his trenchcoat for months and then they met again and the dead guy had amnesia and then committed himself to a mental hospital and then they made up after their epic breakup and then immediately got sent to literal purgatory where the guy who carried the trenchcoat spent an entire year searching for the other guy and then the other guy basically pushed the first guy out of purgatory and then that guy spent weeks blaming himself for leaving the other guy behind and then the other guy shows up and gets lobotomized a bunch of times and then attacks the other guy and only a confession, on his knees, that the guy getting attacked needs the lobotomy guy breaks him out of the mind control and then the lobotomy guy becomes homeless and instead of housing him the other guy kicks him out but stalks him and makes sure he’s ok and then they move in together and then when the one guy is going on a suicide mission the lobotomy guy volunteers to go with him and then dies in childbirth and the suicide mission guy absolutely loses it and completely shuts down and only when lobotomy guy comes back is he smiley and happy again and then they get common law married and raise a child together and then the child dies and they get divorced and then they go back to purgatory and make up and then their kid comes back to life and then lobotomy dude confesses his love for suicide mission guy and dies . and suicide mission guy cries on the floor and then does another suicide mission . and the WHOLE time there’s a third fucking guy there

[meespresso14]

Unexpected (Part 2)

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI

Warnings: mentions of sex, pregnancy, nausea, vomiting, medical issues.

Once things settled down and the hostages were rescued safely with only minor injuries and mental anguish, Hondo decided it was time to pull Luca. The team could finish up without him, it would be alright. Luca was working with Tan and Street. Hondo sighed, getting himself together. The adrenaline was still rushing through all of their veins. He walked over to the group.

“Luca, can we talk for a minute?”

The color drained from Luca’s face, his classic smile fading from his lips. Hondo noticed him swallow hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Yeah, boss. What’s up?”

Deep down inside, every bad scenario was running through Luca’s head. Was it you? Was it his parents? 

Hondo’s eyes panned over to Tan and Street before they panned back to Luca. Everyone was wearing a worried look. 

“It’s Y/N. Annie was on her way to the hospital with her. She passed out at home. I was waiting until things calmed down to pull you out as soon as I could.”

Luca’s blue eyes instantly filled with concern before he shook his head, attempting to pass by Hondo. “I gotta get out of here, man. Like now.”

“Listen, listen—I know, Luca.”, Hondo grabbed his shoulders, trying to center him. 

Luca was fighting back tears—he couldn’t show his emotions. That’s not how this worked. He was taught to be tough—even as a child. 

“Just be safe about it, man. She needs you.”, Hondo eyed Luca.

Luca couldn’t meet Hondo’s eyes. He only stared past him, however, Hondo could see the tears pooling in Luca’s deep blue eyes. He hated breaking bad news to his teammates. It seemed like only yesterday when Annie had her stroke and he had to tell Deacon. It was the worst part of being the team leader. 

“I know.”, Luca breathed, voice barely above a whisper.

He rubbed his hand over his face. “What happened to her?”

Hondo shook his head. “Captain Cortez didn’t give me any other details.”

“I gotta get down there. I need to see her.”

“I know. One of us can go with you—if you want.”, Hondo added.

Luca nodded. “Okay.”

Hondo nodded, finally feeling better about Luca leaving. It was decided that Deacon would accompany Luca since Annie was at the hospital anyway. Hondo told them both to be careful and to keep the team updated on your condition. Luca didn’t even take time to change out of all his tactical gear. He just cared about seeing you—making sure you were okay. Deacon noticed him shifting in the seat nervously. 

Luca felt like a cat on a hot tin roof. His face scrunched nervously and Deacon could tell he was spiraling. 

“You okay, man?”

Luca looked over at Deacon. “Honestly…..no.”, he sighed.

Deacon nodded. “It’s okay not to be okay. I was beside myself when Annie was sick.”

Luca nodded. “I’m just thinking of everything that could be wrong with her.”

“It could be something minor.”

Luca scoffed. “Knowing my luck—no way. I mean she’s the best thing to ever happen to me, Deac. She understands me.”

Deacon kept driving, determined to get Luca there as fast as he could. “I know.”

Deacon didn’t check his phone after texting Annie that he was on his way with Luca. Traffic was horrible as per usual in LA. Deacon was a good driver, used to dealing with the congested highway. 

“I could have driven.”, Luca grumbled, crossing his arms and shifting in the seat for the thousandth time. 

“Sorry boss’s orders.”, Deacon shrugged playfully, a soft smirk crossing his lips.

Luca slumped over against the door, his anxiety getting the best of him. He thought he would handle stress better than this. And to be honest, he was a little angry at himself for getting so worked up. But this wasn’t just anything—this was you, the love of his life. He had never felt this way about another woman. He was going to marry you. And soon, especially after this. If everything was alright with you. His mind was racing with possibilities, going through any and every scenario.

Deacon knew what he was doing. He had done the exact thing when Annie was sick. He knew Luca felt guilty about leaving you and going to work. Deacon weaved in and out of traffic in an attempt to get to the hospital faster. Luca huffed and puffed, silently cursing the traffic and hitting the dashboard of his truck. 

After what felt like a hundred years, they finally pulled up to the emergency room entrance. Luca hardly gave Deacon time to shift his truck into the park before he was jumping out. Deacon threw his hands up, making sure he was parked at least halfway decent before jumping out of Luca’s truck with the keys and running to catch up to Luca. 

Luca cleared the automatic doors, instantly going to the registration desk. 

“Can I help you sir?”

“My fiancee is here.”, Luca threw his hands down on the desk, tapping them nervously. 

“Your name?”

“Dominique Luca. I should be on her paperwork.” 

“What’s her name?”

Luca gave them your name. He wished in that moment you shared his. He wished he could call himself your husband. 

“She’s in room three. I’ll take you both back there.”

Luca nodded as he looked back at Deacon. 

“Want me to follow?”

“Yeah, man. It’s fine.”

Deacon nodded, imagining that Luca needed the emotional support. The registrar opened the door and met Luca on the other side before the door to the main emergency room opened. Nurses were running around like crazy, the desk right in the middle of the room. The registrar talked quickly to a nurse and she nodded, looking at him. Luca forgot he had left his SWAT stuff on. 

“Officer Luca?”, the nurse asked, holding her clipboard.

Luca nodded. 

“Your fiancée is in room three. The doctor will be in shortly to give you an update.”

“Great. Thanks.”

“No problem, follow me.”, she smiled softly and part of Luca wondered why she was smiling when his entire world felt like it was falling apart. 

Part of him felt angry but he decided to hold it together. Deacon was behind him as they snaked their way through the emergency department to room three. The nurse grabbed the blue curtain, pulling it back.

“I have a visitor.”, she sing-songed.

Luca held his breath. Were you awake? All these questions were running through his head and he was finally going to get his answers. There were a lot of sounds in the emergency room from young children crying, people moaning in pain, and all the alarms going off constantly. But it was like everything went silent as he waited for the nurse to move back to reveal you. His mouth pursed open, trying to find the right words to say. 

You were lying there with your eyes open, a small smile on your face. “Hey babe.”

Annie was beside you at the head of your bed, holding your hand. Annie was a great friend and you were very thankful for your SWAT family. Annie smiled, realizing Luca and Deacon had arrived. She let go of your hand and moved to give Luca room but he wasn’t waiting. He rushed over to you, tears forming in his ocean-blue eyes.

“Hey, baby. Are you feeling okay?”, he immediately asked, taking you in his arms. 

Your heart monitor was beeping in the background but neither of you was paying attention to anything but one another. He kissed your head, brushing through your hair before you both smiled at one another. 

“I’m so sorry for leaving you this morning.”

“Stop that.”, you whispered lightly. “Don’t beat yourself up. It’s not your fault.”

“It is—I should have stayed home with you. You needed me.”

“Luca.”

“Baby, I would have never forgiven myself if something happened to you.”

“But I’m gonna be okay.” 

You smiled softly as you touched noses before sharing a small, soft kiss. Luca thought for a moment that he would never get this opportunity again. Your lips felt like heaven and he was so relieved. 

“So everything is going to be okay?”

“Well—mostly.”

“Mostly?”, Luca questioned, concern evident in his voice. 

“Sit down, babe.”, you rubbed his muscular arm gently. 

This was it. Luca felt his heart plummet into his stomach. This was the moment you were going to tell him—you were going to give him the bad news. Luca swallowed hard, his legs beginning to feel like jello. He was never this easily rattled. But this was you. It was a whole different ball game, it was okay to be vulnerable. A lesson you had taught him. Annie helped by scooting a chair closer to the edge of the bed so he could sit down beside you. If only he knew what she did. 

Luca took a seat, immediately grabbing your hand. Just as he did, the doctor pulled the curtain back, getting everyone’s attention. 

“Officer Luca?”

Luca looked up at him, and the doctor immediately extended his hand. Luca took it, shaking his hand firmly. “Glad you could join us. I’ve already talked to your fiancee’ but she wanted you present as well.”

“Sorry—my job is a little demanding.”, Luca laughed nervously. 

Luca’s blue eyes panned over to you, still managing to give you a soft smile as he squeezed your hand. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. 

“We’ll be outside.”, Deacon breathed softly, grabbing Annie’s hand and exiting the room as quietly as they both could. 

“Alright, well. First of all, her iron level and blood pressure were low upon arrival to the emergency room which aided in her passing out at home. We have already given her an iron infusion along with some fluids but are admitting her overnight for observation. She will possibly need another infusion next week depending on the results of her blood work. On to other news,”, he smiled softly.

Luca was confused while he was smiling. 

“Both of these were results of another finding.”

“And that is?”, Luca questioned bravely.

He needed answers. 

“Congratulations Officer Luca. Your fiancée is pregnant. HCG levels are perfect for an estimated four weeks pregnant.”

Luca’s eyes widened before he turned to you. Did he really just hear what he thought he heard? It was the sentence he had waited forever to hear. 

“Pregnant?”, Luca repeated. 

You smirked softly. “Pregnant.”, you whispered.

“What? Babe!”, he exclaimed, a relaxed feeling finally washing over him as his lips curved into a smile and his blue eyes softened before he immediately took you into his arms.

You giggled lightly, wrapping your arms around him. It felt nice to be in his arms and you closed your eyes, taking in this feeling. You always did—just in case there was a day he didn’t get to come home. You hated to even think about the possibility but you knew that was part of what you signed up for. You always prayed for his safety along with his teammates. He pulled back to look at you, tears in his eyes. 

“I’m really gonna be a dad?”

You nodded before both of you laughed easily. 

“Congratulations to both of you. We will let you know as soon as we get you a room upstairs.”, the doctor smiled before leaving. 

Luca turned back to look at you. “I can’t believe it—but I thought you wanted to get married first.”

You shrugged easily. “Life sometimes throws curveballs.”

Luca smiled, rubbing your cheek softly. “I never thought this moment was ever going to happen for me. I thought I was always going to be stuck as Uncle Luca.”

You both laughed before you began to speak. “You’re an amazing uncle, so I just know you’re going to be an amazing dad.”

Luca smiled brightly at the compliment. “I’m so happy.”

“Me too.”, you began. “But I’m not gonna lie I was a little anxious to tell you.”

“Me?”

You nodded again. “It’s just nerve-wracking. I mean I didn’t know if you wanted this right now.”

Luca sighed, shifting in the chair lightly. “I get it. I know you wanted to get married first. I mean—I know we weren’t being safe like we should but we weren’t exactly trying either.”

You giggled at the use of his terminology. “True.”

“Deacon and I even had this conversation this morning—and I thought there was no way in this world you were pregnant.”

“Me either, honestly.”

“But I’m thrilled. I can’t wait to be a dad—I can’t wait for you to start getting a little bump.”, Luca touched your flat stomach. 

You placed your hand over his. 

“Maybe we should move our wedding up.”, you smirked. 

“Sounds good. You tell me a date and we will make it happen, babe.”

You all shared another kiss before you began grinning widely. 

“Maybe we should let Deacon and Annie back in.”

“Yeah, maybe.”, Luca laughed. 

Luca let go of your hand just long enough to walk to the curtain and open it, telling Annie and Deacon they could come in. They followed him back inside the small curtained room. You could only hope that your and Luca’s relationship could be like Deacon and Annie’s—maybe even better. So far, he had exceeded every expectation. Deacon smirked at Luca and you were unsure if Annie had clued him in. 

“So Luca, was I right? Is there a chance we will have a fourth-generation SWAT member?”

Luca smirked back, elbowing Deacon playfully. “Maybe.”

You and Annie looked at one another, laughing while not being surprised by their horseplay. 

“Yeah, you were right Deac. I’m gonna be a dad.”

There were obvious tears pooling in his blue eyes and Deacon couldn’t help but smile as he pulled Luca in for a hug, patting his back. Annie couldn’t help but give a soft smile before her eyes panned over to you. You couldn’t help but notice the tears beginning to pool in your own eyes watching how excited Luca was. This was better than anything you could have imagined. 

“Well, guess it’s my turn to be an uncle now.”, Deacon smirked. 

"How long until we can tell the rest of the team?", Annie chimed in. 

You looked at Luca and he looked back at you, softly caressing his thumb over your hand. 

"What do you think, babe?"

You giggled softly before noticing Hondo, Chris, Jim, and Tan walking through the emergency room through the small slit in the curtain. "I'm thinking soon."

[elzdaizy]

Trouble After Paradise (Part 1)

Warnings: lots of angst, conflict, explicit language.

Summary of short story: Reader and Harry have returned from their honeymoon to a harsh reality and their first huge hurdle as a married couple.

A/N: This is 1 of 3 parts. Enjoy! Just a little short story idea i had and wanted to share with you all.

It’s been four weeks since you returned home from your honeymoon in Costa Rica and you’ve found yourself reminiscing constantly on that magical holiday.

To say the least, things have took a turn for the worst since you and Harry got home.

You were bombarded with mountains of piles of work to get through because there was no one to fill your position whilst you’d taken the month off leading up to your wedding, including the honeymoon.

Harry had started filming his next movie, one that was mentally draining due to his character being a very unwell mental patient at a psychiatric hospital.

You worked from seven in the morning until four in the afternoon in the office but always brought home some work to do which kept you busy until about eight at night when you’d get into bed.

Weekends were exhausting as well, you were catching up with friends and family after basically being off the grid throughout the week.

Harry’s shooting location, thankfully, was only a few hours away up north in Manchester so he managed to be home often between breaks but unfortunately meant that he wasn’t home with you for periods of times.

He tries his best to be at home with you on the weekends but his schedule doesn’t work that way all the time. On average you probably see each other a total of two days out of the week and it’s been this way the past four weeks.

You’ve both been so busy, you’ve barely had the time to live life together as a married couple. There’s a tension building full of stress and exhaustion on both ends of your marriage. You find yourselves bickering when you’re together and getting on each other’s nerves more than ever before.

You know it’s because you’re equally annoyed with yourselves and each other with the current situation.

It’s 8pm on a Friday night and Harry called you earlier that morning to let you know he’s coming home today at around 6:30pm and will be able to stay the full week until he’s off again. He asked for you to pick him up from the station because he had booked a meal at The Ivy for 8pm. You of course said yes. You were so excited to hear the news, you felt tears well up in your eyes. “I really can’t wait, I miss you so much.” You replied before you both said your goodbyes and I love you’s before hanging up.

What you didn’t know was that working would be busier than ever that Friday and now you’re still in the office trying to hurry up and finish off one last piece of paper work to be sent off to your client before the weekend. Your phone had died two hours ago and Harry hadn’t contacted you before it died so you weren’t too concerned that he would’ve tried to since then.

You could cry out of frustration. You purposely stayed back to get all this extra work done so you could book off Monday and Tuesday to extend your weekend to spend some time with your husband.

Half an hour later, you finally send the email and pack up your stuff. You race to your car and make your way home. The door is unlocked when you go to turn the key and your heart skips a beat when you realise that Harry must be home.

The lights are all off downstairs which is odd so you make your way upstairs to your bedroom to find Harry sat on the edge of the bed in just his underwear and his phone in his hands.

“Hi, baby.” You softly speak up as you walk through the door and put your bag and coat over the chair in the corner of the room.

Harry glances at you over his shoulder briefly without so much as a tiny acknowledgment of your presence before looking back to his phone.

You frown, thinking his behaviour seems a bit off. The energy in the room seems low and you can sense he’s not in a good mood.

You walk over to him, a hand on his shoulder and the other hand reaching to lift his head by tilting his chin in your direction for him to look up at you. As soon as you try to lean forward to place a kiss to his lips he yanks his head away from your touch and rolls his eyes, letting out a huff.

You step back, very offended and extremely hurt by his cold actions.

“Fuck you, then.” You throw your hands up and storm away to head downstairs to the kitchen. You’re literally trying so hard not to break down and cry right now so you’re pacing around your kitchen, breathing heavily for a few moments then deciding to pour yourself a large glass of wine.

You almost down the first glass. The second one being poured less than five minutes later. You’re just stood by your kitchen island with a glass of wine in one hand and thoughts racing around your mind as you try to figure out why your husband seems to despise you at the moment.

You soon realise it could possibly be the fact that your phone was dead and maybe he was trying to get ahold of you.

You start to feel a pit of guilt in your stomach when you take your phone from your pocket and plug it into the charger point next to your toaster.

You finish your second glass of wine once your phone switches on and your eyes widen when you notice the ten missed calls and five unread messages from Harry.

You read the texts carefully one at a time.

From Harry:

6:09pm - l’m fifteen minutes away from the station if you want to set off now. Love you. Xx

6:30pm - Where are you? I’m waiting near the security box until you’re here. Xx

6:53pm - I’ve rung you five times and you’re not answering so I’m making my own way home now.

7:26pm - Why aren’t you answering and why aren’t you at home? You do realise we have to be at The Ivy in half an hour.

8:03pm - cancelled the booking. If you read this before you come home - don’t bother me when you get in, I can’t be arsed with this tonight.

You heart feels like it’s going to stop. You have never felt more terrible in your life. You feel like a punch to the gut is what you deserve right now and nothing less. And to think, you literally just spat in his face and said fuck you to him, still not realising what you’d done.

You were so fixated on wanting to spend the week with Harry that you’d completely forgotten about picking him up and going out for dinner tonight.

You were a little drunk and very upset with yourself so of course the only thing currently you did was start to cry. You sat on a stool at your island, lent your elbows on the countertop, put your face in your hands and sobbed. Sobbed for your husband and how upset he must be feeling. Sobbed at the realisation of how much you hurt him and let him down. You felt like a failure.

After about thirty minutes of letting your feelings flow out of your system uncontrollably, you composed yourself and prepared yourself to go and apologise profusely. You’d gone over what to say in your head a million times and nothing sounded good enough but you know the least he deserves is an apology rather than an explanation or excuse right now.

Your face is puffy and red from the crying as you shakily walk up the stairs to your room and find Harry is now laying under the covers with the tv on, watching a movie with a deep frown on his face. As if he’s in deep thought rather than paying attention to the screen.

You push the door open gently and let yourself in. Basically walking with your tail between your legs, you can barely look at him as you sit on the bottom corner of the bed on your side. You couldn’t be further away from him on the bed if you tried.

“Harry, I’m so sorry.” You croak. Lips quivering as you fight the urge to break down crying again. You finally look at him after your first attempt at the beginning of a long apology. He’s ignoring you. Keeping his eyes fixed on the screen and his arms crossed over his chest.

You decide to keep speaking, “I completely understand why you’re angry and I don’t want to give myself any excuses for-.”

He reaches for the remote and turns up the volume to drown out your voice.

You let out a shaky sigh. A tear slipping down your cheek. “I didn’t ignore you on purpose- look, can you please just say something?” You beg pathetically and Harry’s head turns as his eyes look at you with anger.

“Told you I can’t be fucked with this tonight just leave me alone, please.” He sighs in annoyance before completely turning his back to you as he lays on his side.

You really don’t know what to say now. You didn’t expect this reaction from him. He’s never been this angry with you before and it’s terrifying you slightly because you really can’t cope with it. You don’t even care if he shouts at this point, you just want more of a reaction from him.

He has every right to feel the way he does, you know that. You hate going to sleep on bad terms though. You both agreed to always resolve conflicts before getting into bed because you never wanted to be that couple that gets into fights and makes one or the other sleep on the sofa.

It seems like it’s going to be that way tonight though. You don’t want to say another word because you don’t want to make it worse. Even though you know you won’t get much sleep, you decide to go sleep downstairs on the couch. You could go sleep in the spare room but you need a tv to distract you from your racing thoughts so the living room it is.

You get up from the bed, go take a quick shower and change into your pyjamas before grabbing your pillow from your side of the bed and walking towards the door.

“Goodnight, Harry. I love you.” You say to him softly before closing the door behind yourself and making your way downstairs.

You turn on a shitty reality show to fall asleep too. It takes a few hours but eventually you drift off.

The next morning you’re awoken by the sound of the blender rattling off in the kitchen. You feel at peace for a split second as your groggy memory clears up as your consciousness comes back, along with the awful events of last night. You grimace start yourself as you sit up on the couch and turn around to see Harry standing in the kitchen, making himself a smoothie, dressed in his running gear.

It mustn’t be any later than 6am because he only likes going running at the crack of dawn. He hasn’t noticed that you’re awake yet but you know he’s still fuming by the look on his face.

Now that you’re not intoxicated and knowing it’s a new day, you’re determined to resolve this issue very soon. You don’t want to waste any more of the short time you two have together for the next four days being bitter.

You get up from the couch and stretch before walking over to the kitchen island and taking a seat on the stool you were sobbing on last night.

“Morning.” You say with a tired voice as Harry still hasn’t acknowledged you whilst he’s cleaning up some dishes. You’re both facing each other on opposite sides of the island.

Harry looks up at you frowning and doesn’t reply so you take it as your queue to go in strong with all guns blazing.

“Can we please talk about this now?” You plead. Harry just deadpans and looks at you with a look that tells you no as he picks up his AirPods and puts them in as he makes his way to the door to go on his run.

“What the actual fuck! This is an actual fucking nightmare.” You frustratingly shout to no one but yourself after Harry closes the door on his way out.

[sweet-evie]

A Piece of the Whole

A glimpse into the life of a single dad who's doing his best.

masterlist || pt 2

Content ⚠️: Established Relationship, afab!oc, fem!oc, nameless!oc, she/her/hers pronouns for Satoru's S/O, Tragedy, Childbirth, Maternal Death, Mentions of Blood, Angst, singleparent!gojo, dad!gojo

Never Grow Up Pt 1

May 5, 2012: Sanno Hospital

Throat tight and heart shattered, Satoru choked down the remainder of his grief and promised himself the luxury of breaking down when he was alone. He couldn’t do it now… Not here. Not in front of doctors who offered him sympathies. Not in front of Shoko who sat beside him with equally mournful eyes.

How would he even begin to tell Megumi and Tsumiki?

The latter was especially excited through the phone when he and his partner rushed to the emergency ward almost a full day ago when her water broke.

Almost as if she read his mind, Shoko laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “We should get things sorted out. Finish the paperwork and get the kids.”

Satoru swallowed around two mouthfuls of cotton balls and pushed his blackout sunglasses further up his nose — a sorry attempt at hiding how defeated he felt and how his eyes were full to bursting with unshed tears. It almost felt wrong to start moving again, as if the world hadn’t stopped turning the moment she took her last labored breath.

Logic told him this wasn’t the end… He was still Satoru Gojo — still the head of the Gojo clan, still saddled with the responsibility of instructing first year students at Jujutsu Tech, still needed to exterminate curses that cropped up too frequently for his liking. Being a father to a newborn was an added responsibility that he looked forward to for the past nine months and it was all because he had his Love by his side. He promised his lover and his would-be daughter his time and commitment, because if he couldn’t shoulder the burden of sheltering his baby in his own body and going through painful labor to deliver said baby into the world, then he would pour all his effort into taking care of the mother of his child and his new baby.

His Love did the work — uncomfortable, strenuous work that cost her her body image, her mental well-being on some especially hard days, and her general comfort.

What a woman…

What a woman she had been.

He’d asked her once why any woman would willingly do this to herself, knowing the possible complications, the risk, the changes, the toll, and she had smiled at him — amber eyes glinting in the afternoon light of the apartment they called ‘home’ — and told him that any woman who willingly went through pregnancy allowed it for different reasons. But for her, it was because—

“Loving her is loving a piece of you. And I love you wholly, Satoru.”

The strong smell of antiseptic brought him back from the memory he had been reminiscing about. The busy humdrum of a hospital outside the private room reminded him that his life might have ground to a halt, but others’ didn’t.

The Love of his life perished at the cost of delivering the baby she loved so much, and the world wouldn’t care.

“What do I tell her family?” Satoru mumbled, giving Shoko a verbal response at last.

“The truth. You can’t exactly hide it.”

Maybe he could get away with having his Mom deal with that. Their families had never been exceptionally close, but Satoru figured it was the least his mother could do after the woman had initially expressed her disapproval when they announced her pregnancy to his clan.

The main gripes had been the fact that she was not a sorcerer, they were not married, and his lover did not possess any sort of public influence that could benefit the Gojo clan.

Not that it mattered now…

His Love had passed away.

“At least her family would hate me enough not to bother with trying to file for custody. I don’t think they’d be happy about the baby either.”

“I doubt they’d be unhappy. It doesn’t matter if they do try to file, Gojo. Your parenting rights exceed theirs.”

“I know.”

Satoru stared at the empty bed and its flattened sheets. It looked too sterile — too clean. It was a far cry from the blood and the screaming and the smell of death that had permeated the room not too long ago. The smell and horrible aftertaste of death’s door was an all too familiar sensation to him unfortunately — especially after Megumi’s own father had brutalized him five years ago. He hated that his Love had to know what that was like before she succumbed to it.

“Have you met her yet?”

“Not yet.”

Regrettably, he hadn’t thought about the infant ever since he watched the light leave his Love’s eyes. She was the center of his world and truthfully, more important to him than a baby he barely knew. Of course he grieved her.

But now that Shoko brought it up, it added another horrible taste in his mouth. Just a month ago he’d felt so carefree as he laid beside his pregnant partner, shamelessly cooing and fawning over the unborn baby in her womb, making a show of how excited he was to be a dad, and already making plans to teach her plenty of things. Now his life flipped upside down at the onslaught of tragedy that befell his girlfriend.

The doctors had whisked his daughter away to the NICU to monitor her closely and provide care after the mother passed away near the end of delivery. The Love of his life didn’t even get to see her baby before she died… Didn’t even get the chance to speak her name so they could print it out in the tiny tags they kept around newborns’ wrists to identify them in the nursery.

Her last coherent words were impassioned pleas thrown out in the midst of her suffering, punctuated with labored breaths, gasps, and blood — so much blood that stained the white sheets pink and orange.

“Love her, Satoru. Promise me. Promise, please? Promise me. Love her. She needs you.”

Did she feel her own life slipping away? Was her strength sapped bit by bit with each gasp and strained scream? They’d taken her body to the morgue an hour ago, but he swore he could still feel her near bone-crushing grip on his fingers — regrettably a pathetic source of consolation during her labor. His words of whispered encouragement didn’t hold a candle to her pain and suffering. 

It couldn’t save her from rapid blood loss and cardiac arrest.

Pathetic…

The strongest sorcerer of the modern age — abundant in financial resources and political power, yet useless in the face of death and loss. This was his curse.

“It’s only been half an hour. Did the doctor say anything?”

“They might keep her there for the whole day or for weeks for all I know.”

“You should go see her.”

“I—”

Shoko’s tone was soft but firm as she reached out, squeezed his shoulder again, and made for the door. “I’ll come with you.”

=OoOoO=

Entering the neonatal unit was not as complicated as he first assumed. The entrance to the unit was armed with a cache of hand sanitizers, disinfecting alcohol, antibacterial liquid soap, face masks, and other paraphernalia meant to prevent spread of infection. Next to that was a station for handwashing. The place smelled of a strange yet pleasant mix of scented rubbing alcohol and baby powder.

The nurses had asked both him and Shoko to don hospital gowns over their clothes, plus wear gloves and masks. If the situation had been a little less grim, he would have argued with Shoko over whether these precautionary measures were really necessary for him when he had Infinity and his immune system was tougher than beds of nails. She would have told him how ridiculous he was being, and he would have countered with an argument that revolved around the idea that he was the last person carrying transferable diseases in the entire hospital.

But there was none of that…

He was quiet and subdued, even as the smiling nurse led them through.

She was not one of the nurses present during his baby’s birth, so she obviously didn’t know. Satoru wondered if she would have treated him differently if she knew. He let Shoko take care of the technicalities of the conversation. They were talking about IVs and breathing measurements and vital signs — everything that Satoru knew he should be paying attention to.

But he knew, despite his baby’s sensitive condition, that she was completely fine — that she was alive and that she would pull through.

His daughter’s cursed energy signature was readable outside of the unit. It thrummed and doused her in it completely like a second blanket. It wasn’t tightly reined or controlled, as expected from a newborn. She had more than the normal amount a sorcerer would have too — that tiny body housed enough cursed energy to match the output of a Grade 1 sorcerer.

He followed a step behind Shoko and the nurse, sunglasses now pushed to the top of his head so he could see everything. The tiny and insignificant curses that usually plagued hospitals were nowhere to be found — hiding from him most likely. 

Their little group stopped at the eighth infant warmer.

There she was — the fruit of his Love’s efforts.

Tiny, fragile, covered in a pink blanket, eyes half-open, her tiny arms and legs moving, and a nasal cannula in her nostrils.

“Normally, it’s really hard to tell which baby belongs to which parent because they all look so similar.” The nurse giggled at Shoko, gesturing to the rows and rows of dark-haired babies in identical infant warmers or incubators. “But your baby stands out from the rest. She’s hard to miss.”

“She’s not my baby.” Shoko corrected the nurse.

“Oh— My apologies, Dr. Ieiri.” She turned, about to address Satoru.

He was already standing over the tiny bed. The size of the infant warmer when placed right next to his towering height created a comical scene: a six-foot plus giant leaning over a restless baby.

“I can see where she gets her hair, Mr. Gojo. You have a very beautiful daughter.”

Her words barely registered in Satoru’s brain; his mind too preoccupied by the sight of his Love’s sweet angel. She’d begged him to love the little girl — made him promise. She had pleaded with every ounce of breath left in her rapidly deteriorating body.

And the sight of this tiny girl — her small fists curling and uncurling, small body wiggling and twitching underneath the soft blanket, and her head turned to his side with those eyes squeezed shut — broke what was left of his battered heart.

“She’s so small.” Satoru mumbled, seating himself on one of the stools they placed close to the infant warmer. (Truthfully, all newborn babies looked tiny compared to Satoru Gojo). 

Cautiously, he placed his elbows on the transparent edges of the warmer, watching the little girl closer, oblivious to the way Shoko and the nurse watched him.

“Is she a healthy size?” He spoke slowly, quietly; Six Eyes never straying away from the new life he’d helped create.

“Yes, Mr. Gojo.” She watched as Satoru fiddled with the name tag wrapped loosely around the newborn’s chubby wrist. A name hadn’t been given, so the tag simply read ‘Baby Gojo’. “If we could have her name, we could reprint a new tag.”

A name… If they could have her name.

Satoru stared at the thin white piece of photo paper between his fingers.

Born on the fifth moon at the beginning of the end of Spring, delivered at 11:43PM, firstborn child of the head of the Gojo clan, offspring of the strongest sorcerer alive.

The name left his lips unbidden, uttered as a reverent prayer and offering to a love he lost and equally gained. It was the name his Love had chosen — a fitting name for their baby girl and her powerful birthright, his Love had said.

“Satsuki… Her mother named her Satsuki, with the kanji for ‘blossom’ or ‘moon’ and ‘princess.’”

“A fitting name for a lovely girl. Your wife must be so proud.”

“She is…”

She would have been…

Satoru nodded along to the nurse’s kind comments, still wholly focused on watching his daughter. The nurse excused herself to accommodate a colleague’s inquiries, leaving him and Shoko alone amid the row of infant warmers and sleeping babies.

“You could touch her.” Shoko nodded once, noting how cautious Gojo was.

Uncaring of any protests, Satoru slipped off the glove that covered his right hand and gently slid two of his fingers into the space between her curled fingers and tiny palm. Her skin was warm and she was so so so small. It was a sight to behold: a daughter holding on to her father’s finger — a prelude of how they would behave around each other three years down the line. 

He was a stranger to fear, but in this moment, perhaps he could admit to feeling apprehensive — that his most delicate grip could shatter her. Satsuki deserved utmost care and tenderness — the kind that only a mother could give… The kind that Satoru so obviously lacked. He could put a roof over his daughter’s head, give her clothes to keep her warm, provide food in abundance so she would never starve, financially support her so she would never want for a single thing in her life, and protect her from every threat. All of that, and he would still be incapable of restoring the warmth and comfort Satsuki’s mother could have brought her — had she been given the chance.

That’s what hurt the most, he figured… Satsuki would only know of her mom — would only experience her through the thousands of pictures and videos Satoru had stored in memory cards and camera phones throughout the years. Satsuki would never know how sweet and warm her mother was, how affectionate and kind and patient. And no matter how much Satoru would strive to convey all of that through his stories and his actions, it could never measure up — could never bring proper justice to the firsthand experience Satsuki would have had, if only Fate wasn’t cruel to Satoru Gojo and everyone he loved.

He pulled down the mask that covered half of his face as he gently stroked his daughter’s hair. There was so much of it — a full head of white, a blanket of snow. He could fit her entire head in the palm of his hand. He marveled at all of her, now that he had been staring for quite some time. Thin and pale eyebrows matched her long white eyelashes. Her nose, her mouth, the shape of her face — it was all his. In this at least, no one could doubt her paternal lineage. (Not that anyone would dare to question Satoru Gojo if he claimed a baby was his — look-a-like or not).

“Oh my god, she’s all you.” Shoko muttered over his shoulder, echoing his own musings as she finally got a closer look for herself.

“Would the clan elders still insist on a paternity test, do you think?”

It was a half-baked attempt at humor, but Shoko did smile a little underneath her face mask. There was some truth to that claim. 

Satoru’s family weren’t the happiest group of people when they found out he got his girlfriend pregnant. They lived in modern society, but the biggest clans of the jujutsu world held fast to traditional beliefs, even if said beliefs dated all the way back to the 18th century. Satsuki was born out of wedlock, so in their judgmental eyes, she was illegitimate — unworthy of the Gojo name and certainly not fit to inherit any asset or receive support from the clan. But Shoko doubted that claim would stay for long — not if Satoru would have anything to do with it. He got what he wanted one way or the other (and for the most part). She knew her friend.

Shoko wagered that this family conflict would persist for a year or less… Satsuki is and forever will be entitled to the name ‘Gojo’, and Satoru would even put her in line to be the next head of the clan — patriarchal traditions be damned.

“How’s her cursed energy level?” Shoko asked out of curiosity. It had been on her mind ever since she and Satoru wandered into the unit.

“As stable as can be expected from a baby. The amount matches a Grade 1 sorcerer.” 

Shoko reached over the edge of the infant warmer to fix the blanket covering Satsuki’s body. “You think she’ll have Limitless?”

“Maybe. It would be better for her if something unique manifests instead. You never really know until kids hit five or six.”

Satoru continued to speak quietly as he scanned his daughter’s face, watching closely as her little eyelids fluttered and peeled themselves back halfway, revealing bright amber irises. At this, he had to smile.

“She has her mommy’s eyes. Of course she does.”

His Love would have adored her. She’d fawned over Satsuki from the moment they went to their first checkup. She had smiled so wide when they heard the steady beat of their little girl’s heart for the first time, and she told him all over again that her horrible nausea in the mornings, her swollen feet, her migraines, and all her troubles were worth it — even if he so obviously thought otherwise.

“Loving her is loving a piece of you. And I love you wholly, Satoru.”

A piece of him…

Satsuki was a piece of her too, wasn’t she?

Satsuki was the embodiment of her love — the remnant Satoru resolved to cherish for the rest of his days from this moment forth.

Shoko went looking for the nurse and left him alone for a moment, and Satoru contented himself with the view of his daughter staring listlessly into a mess of colors and shapes that her still-developing brain barely identified. Giving her the sincere smile she deserved, he held one of her tiny hands again and kissed her fingers — a promise of the life and future he would give her for as long as he was able.

It would be a long long while until he would see his Love again — longer still because their daughter needed him now. 

Wherever she was, perhaps watching over him and Satsuki, he sincerely hoped his Love heard the utterance of the very same words she’d told him that time he asked. His Love was right…

Loving the girl was loving a piece of her mother. And ever since that evening on Christmas Eve so many years ago, he’d loved every bit of his lover everyday, more than he did the day before until the moment she took her last breath. 

“I’ll take care of our little girl. I promise.”

[pseudowho]

okay soooo likeeeee. How did you tell your husband you wrote fanfiction or if you started writing after you guys were married or dating, how did he like- find out? And how did he react? Or was it just like:

You: I like fictional men and I write incredible and award worthy fanfics about them.

Him: yeah?

You: yup.

Him: cool.

I feel like if I were to tell my s/o that I have a mental hospital worthy obsession with fictional men and an addition to reading/writing about them, would they think Im weird? Creepy? Would they break up with me? Idek I'm like rlly struggling here

I will be totally honest, I think @mrhaitch went through a slew of "oh my god am I not good enough does she hate me oh well she loves a fictional man now how do I kill a fictional man with a fictional knife oh god how do I fix this--" before finally coming to his senses, when I told him.

Which went something like this, after he'd been worried about me spending a lot of time on my phone (which is where I do all of my writing):

Me: Hey, listen, so I...started writing some stories.

Him: ...stories.

Me: Mmm. Fanfiction.

Him: ...right?

Me: *clears throat* Most of them...dirty. But not all of them.

Him: ...right?

Me: ...and they're...popular.

Him: Popular?

Me: Like, thousands of followers popular.

Him: Well...shit.

Me: Shit.

Him: Shit.

*silence, tea drinking, kids burning the house down in the background*

Him: ...since when did you write?

He absolutely assumed my writing was shit because it was 1. On Tumblr and 2. Fanfiction, but eventually accepted I can write fairly well. Which is high praise from him.

Once I berated him ruthlessly for being so childish, he took some time to reflect and realised he was being childish, and has been nothing but supportive since.

My answer to you: if they think you're weird or creepy or break up with you because you spend a bit of time hyperfixating on make believe men, within the boundaries of a normal healthy relationship, or if they try to control you or make you seem small or stupid or wrong, then throw them down the drain.

Because I promise you, if they think that being nasty to you will stop you fixating, they're so categorically wrong.

Initial surprise or uncertainty is normal, I think, but it's how they respond to feeling bad about something safe or normal that makes them feel foolishly threatened, that's really important. If they feel threatened and use that to make it your fault, there's a problem there.

Love,

-- Haitch xxx

[deliciousangelfestival]

My Dear Wife - Lloyd Hansen Series

Character: Lloyd Hansen x Rich!Female Reader

Words Count: 3200

Summary: Our reader was safe from the hostage situation, and she got her answer for all her problems. But did she make the right choice being married to a lunatic sociopath? 

Check out Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7 (Extra Story)

A/N: This is the continuous chapter from 3 Billion Divorce. <<<Check it out if you haven't read it. 

And check out my other stories from Masterlist.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Thank you so much for reblogging the first chapter. 💕💕

I want to write the aftermath of the day Lloyd came to the reader's office with the divorce paper. 

But I feel the story would be better when both characters get to know each other. 

I would appreciate any comments and feedback you can give me. Please tell me if you have any ideas and feedback for part 3. 

Don't be shy if you want to be tagged for part 3. 😄💕

In the family, there will always be an evil uncle, aunt, or cousin who says hurtful things. Their bullet would be:

"Why are you still single?"

"How much is your salary?"

"When will you get married?"

"My son/daughter just got promoted or bought a new apartment."

They will say anything to make their family better than anyone else. 

The only choice is to ignore them and not return for another family gathering. 

But with you, it's a different case. You wished they would say hurtful things rather than try to get rid of you. 

They have shown you their true colors after your grandfather's funeral. 

Their first act was you woke up at a mental hospital with the note that you're delusional. 

You ran away and sued the hospital. 

They even use your friend to spike your drinks. Since that day, you lost your friend, and you never took a sip that was being offered to you. 

You almost got killed on the airplane, but the pilot didn't want to risk his life, so he told you the truth. 

You can't even stay at your own house. Cause assassins always break in to get you while you're asleep.

That's just some of the cases. 

After the suffering, you've been facing all these years. 

It's time to get revenge. 

You got an instant husband who is an expert at handling problems.

After your secretary sent the money, Lloyd untied the rope around your hands. What a paranoid man; he didn't trust you until he got the money. 

"Mr. Hansen, where is my bodyguard?" You couldn’t stop worrying about Jimmy after the car crash. You didn’t know what happened to him. 

He is still sitting and reading the contract. "Aren't we supposed to be husband and wife? Call me Lloyd, or hubby, or babe. Take your pick."

Lloyd wants to tease you and is curious about your response.

You’re not amused with his jokes, "Lloyd, I want my bodyguard to be alive and healthy."

Oh well, you’re not in the mood for jokes. He snapped his finger to his soldier to come forward. The soldier speaks softly, almost whispering, "Her bodyguard lost too much blood."

Lloyd clenched the soldier's collar, forced him to bend, and pointed his gun. "I don't care, treat him. If he needs to bathe in blood, so be it. Or do you want to pay the penalty of 3 billion?"

"No sir." The soldier shook his head and started to run. 

He put down the contract and clapped his hands. "Good news sweetheart, your bodyguard is resting. He got dehydrated."

"So what does my precious wife want me to do?" 

He strolls towards you. "Do you want to finish them as quickly as possible or slowly by torturing them?"

"The second choice."

"I thought you wanted them gone."

You scoffed. "They will lose their will to live when they see me become the head of the company."

Lloyd felt a shiver when you said that. He likes it when you sound desperate but bossy at the same time.

"I need to ask you, are you sure you want to pay me that much money? I could give you a discount if you want."

You shook your head. "It doesn't matter to me as long as I'm alive."

You walk around him while your eyes stay focused, looking at his blue eyes. "I see how you work, kind of spontaneous but deadly. You immediately betrayed my relative after I offered you more money."

Suddenly you stopped and smirked, "That means you're not afraid or just don't give a shit. I need a fearless man who is also a lunatic at the same time."

"Besides, I'm worth more than 40 million dollars."

He felt shiver again, and now his heart was beating loudly. He doesn't understand why.

Lloyd's hands cover his face. "Stop, stop, I'm blushing because of your compliment."

"We could write this into our marriage vows."

You rolled your eyes. "By the way, is there any room that I could use? I want to rest."

Lloyd smirked, "Oh honey, I haven't decorated the bedroom for our wedding night."

You sighed heavily, your finger running through your hair."Lloyd, Right now, your wife is exhausted, 4 hours ago, I thought I would die. I have no energy to banter with your joke."

"Okay princess." Lloyd raised his hands; he knew it was time to stop teasing you. "My man will take you to your bedroom. By the way, my room is next to yours. If you feel lonely, just knock." He winked at you. 

You rolled your eyes. "Ooh, and I want to have breakfast tomorrow. Black coffee and egg Benedict."

‘GASP!' Everyone inside the house was astonished at how brave you were giving orders to their boss. 

"Don't tell me 1 billion is not enough to get me proper food?"

You shook your head. 

Lloyd looked at you.

You didn't know the last time someone gave him an order, that person got thrown into the sea. 

This is the first time a guest has ordered breakfast in his mansion. To be exact, a former hostage became an honorary guest in his house. 

At the stairs, you look down at him. "Don't make me regret investing in you, Lloyd." 

His jaw twitched, but he stared at your back without replying. 

He never tries to prove himself. But to you, he has too. He doesn't want to disappoint you since you gave him so much money.

God, he loved a challenge.

He snapped his fingers to call the servants, "Tell our chef to give his best for tomorrow."

After you closed the door behind you, you finally took a breath. 

Honestly, you didn’t plan to sleep, but after you find the answer to your problem, you feel somewhat relieved, and the fatigue you've been holding in for four years finally releases and drains your energy. 

It’s a funny world; you feel safer sleeping in a house full of guns. Everyone here wears weapons like accessories. 

*****

While you are resting on the second floor, everyone is working since Lloyd orders his IT team to start looking at your family. 

It will take a while to get the info; while waiting, Lloyd took a cigarette to the terrace. He took a deep puff and exhaled smoke as he looked at the garden. 

He thought he could finish this job easily. But now it’s more complicated. 

‘BZZT’ The sudden vibrating phone woke Lloyd from his deep thoughts. He grins when he sees the caller.

"There's a new job for you." That British accent sounds annoyed, probably caused by Susan's nagging.

"Can't. I'm busy."

"I thought you'd done with the last mission."

"That one is done. This one is different."

"What is it?"

"I got married."

"...."

"You're… not… laughing. Are you serious? With who?"

"Y/N L/N."

Lloyd moved his ears away from the phone because Carmichael cursed too loudly.

"L/N? Don't tell me she's from the conglomerate family L/N & Co?"

"Yes."

"I heard she will be appointed as the leader next year. Lloyd, you lucky bastard."

"Thanks man. Hey, can you send all the files of the L/N family?"

"Sure. Consider this as a wedding gift from me."

That phone call was short but helpful. The best part is Carmichael didn't ask questions and was ready to help him. 

In a few minutes, Lloyd received the files. It seems like the CIA has been sniffing around. Everything is here. 

Your grandfather has eight kids, but after your father died, that left seven kids. 5 aunts and two uncles, that’s how many opponents you have to deal with.

The fight is different with your uncle and aunts because they don’t mind getting their hands dirty as long as they achieve their goals.

The files have dirt ready to use if the agency wants to blackmail your family. Your uncles embezzled the company money; there are also some cases of sexual harassment.

Your aunts do money laundry using their art gallery and boutique shops. Their husbands are politicians, it's obvious they received a bribed.

He got the info and everything he needed, and next, he opened your files. 

Only your father chose to be low profile. He handles car manufacturers. He’s good at his job, and the car he designed improved. Your mother is just an ordinary housewife. Your family is quite normal than other relatives. 

But the normal life is gone when your two uncles fail a mega project and humiliate the family business. It made your grandfather mad. 

Your grandfather chose your father as the next successor, but before the official announcement, your parents died in a car accident. 

It is still a mystery where the driver went missing. 

There’s a big question mark on the files. A big chance the one who hired the assassins is in your family. 

Your grandfather took you in, and you became a prodigy under his wings. Everyone knew you would be the next successor. 

After high school, you decided to study abroad, not in an Ivy League university your grandfather told you to attend. This is the first time you disobey him. 

He only participated in your graduation and asked you to get a master's at Harvard. 

Lloyd chuckled about the fact you went to the same university “No shit, she's a fellow alumnus.”

This time you did what he asked. While getting a master, your work in the company as an intern. It was difficult, but you learned a lot. 

The way you work in business also improved; your grandfather often asks your opinion to find solutions. The interaction between you both made others jealous. 

There’s also a hospital record of a car and ski accident. All the evidence showed all the equipment was broken on purpose.

"Such a heartless family." Lloyd shook his head; after he dug deeper, he realized your family is more complicated than he thought. Money is more important than blood. 

After finding out what happened, there’s an uneasy feeling knowing you’re alone right now.

Lloyd went into your room to check in; he knew this house security was top-notch, but it doesn’t hurt to check. He could talk to you until you fell asleep if you were still awake. 

When he went in, he saw you sleeping peacefully. 

You were wrapped in a white blanket like a burrito. He looked at you, defenseless like a bunny. 

He leaned down a bit before sitting at the side of the bed; you didn’t even notice. You must be exhausted.

He can’t imagine if he were in your position—four years of running and hiding. Surviving without any military background is quite impressive.

Lloyd knew his job was to protect you and stay professional, but right now, he couldn't help feeling protective towards you; he wanted to get all your relatives to the basement and torture them to death. 

“Don't worry, I won't let you get hurt. I swear in the name of 3 billion dollars." He whispered before leaving the room.

Usually, he doesn’t care if his client is satisfied with how he does his work. But with you, he wants to see you smiling and proud at his job. 

*****

The next day,

The sun was beaming through her blinds, causing you to stir. It’s been a long time since you’ve awakened from a deep sleep. You felt refreshed.

“Rise and shine.” 

Your body jumped; you didn’t realize someone else was in the room. 

There he is, already in his best outfit. He dresses like he wants to go hunting. In contrast, you look like a mess. There’s nothing underneath the blanket since they didn’t provide you with any spare clothes.

You clenched your blanket when he walked towards you. His right knee rests on the bed while you move backward, but he moves faster. You flinched without realizing it. 

As a woman, you know he has a beautiful body at first glance. Even his perfume smells nice. Too bad he’s a lunatic.

While you were lost in thoughts, he swept you with the blanket into his arms, cradled you to his chest, and carried you out of bed.

“Ah! What are you…?!”

Lloyd smirked; he found it amusing to see you caught off guard. “Didn’t you ask for breakfast?”

He carried you to the dining room and put you near his chair. In a few minutes, people appear, their hands carrying a food tray. They put down the food, and there it is. 

You could smell good coffee in a glass, not instant coffee like you always made, and egg benedict. The food looks beautiful. You’ve always wanted to have an aesthetic breakfast. 

You touch the coffee cup, enjoying the warmth in your hand. Lloyd thought you were scared. “There’s no poison in it.”

“I know.” You bring the cup to your lips” I remembered your vows.” You want to giggle, but you hide it by sipping the coffee.

Lloyd burst into laughter. It turned out you were awake. You keep surprising him. He felt like he had achieved something when he saw you enjoying breakfast. 

Suddenly one of the servants knocked on the door. "Sir, they're here."

"Great, let them in."

After he gives permission, you see a group walking into the room. Each of them has a different style.

You have so many questions; Lloyd said, "You are my honor guest. And you deserve the best treatment. I got the best hair stylist, and fashion expert to treat you."

Lloyd smiled generously. "This is my first gift to you."

"After you're done, there will be another surprise waiting for you." He said before leaving.

After the makeover is done, you feel like you are being reborn. It’s been a long time since you got pampered like this. You got to admit he did a great job. 

Before you go down the stairs, you see the silhouette you’ve wished to see. 

“Jimmy.” You ran down to hug him. 

“You're okay. I'm so glad.” Jimmy sighed, relieved; then he talked in his serious voice, "I know we're desperate but not this desperate to make a deal with him."

The moment he woke up, he punched one of the soldiers. No wonder why the car chasing is too much. It was Hansen Security who got hired. He heard about the company. They are famous as gruesome and heartless mercenaries. They will use every method to finish their job.

He was confused, and even though the soldier got hit, he wasn't mad. It turns out you made a deal with their boss. The money you offered was insane. But to you, money is not the issue. 

"I care for you like my own kid. I don’t want you to get hurt."

You want to cry when he says that. You've known him since your grandfather was still alive. He's a man of loyalty, and you're grateful for that. 

"This is why I made a deal with him. I don't want to lose you. Even though we're not related by blood. But to me you're family.”

Jimmy sighed again because you were right. There's nothing else you can do. 

“Ehem, pardon me for interrupt. But boss wants to see you both.” 

The soldier guides both of you to the room. He opened it with a passcode. When the door opened, you were awed by how many screens were inside and computers.

“Sir, the honored guest is here.”

Lloyd was looking at the screen when he turned around and became quiet when he saw you. The stylist he hired did a great job. You look different... in a good way. 

He cleared his throat. “I want to show you something.”

You saw the screen behind him. 

“Before we start planning to made your relative suffer, there’s another thing you should know.”

A picture of a news article and a photo of a wrecked car is shown. 

“Car accident that happened 19 years ago."

Your body flinched when you saw the pictures. It's a taboo topic. Nobody around you will try to open the Pandora box.

But this man… just opens the source of your trauma. 

Jimmy was ready to destroy the hardware if you asked him to. Because this is your nightmare.

On the other hand, Lloyd discovers new facial expressions from you. He likes looking at you as being weak. Lloyd wants to punish you a little bit. He still holds a grudge when you humiliated him last night.

 "I found the missing driver.”

“They made it look like an accident. But I found the driver and the person who hired him."

"Who?!!" You've been looking for the answer but always found a dead end. 

"The eldest child from your 3rd aunt's family."

Your cousin? That most spoiled person you've ever known? 

You remembered another cousin making fun of him, saying he needed a nanny to wipe his ass until he was ten. He couldn't even pass every test unless his parents bribed the schools. 

You heard he worked as a notary, but he was stupid. The land he handled for a mega project doesn't have a permit. While the investors had put their money. For sure, they sued him.

He came to your grandfather, begging and crying for help. 

He was the last person you could ever think of. 

"Your aunt and her husband get rid of all the traces."

Lloyd's words hit you like blows to the chest, and each of them made you lose breath. You always want to know the truth, but the pain is too much. You struggle to stand on your own feet. 

"Yeah…, there's …no way…. he can work ….alone."

Lloyd noticed you start panting, your eyes not focusing anymore on the screen. 

"What about…my other… family? Do they… know?" 

"All of them are working together. " 

"Urgh." The pain in your chest became unbearable. So their condolences at your parents' funeral are an act of pity? And your grandfather? 

That's when you realized. 

Oh, God.

Your grandfather knew the TRUTH. That's why he chose you as the successor to forgive his children. 

Your vision becomes blurry, your legs wobble, and it feels like the floor is moving. 

Lloyd moved fast when he noticed you couldn't stand on your feet. He caught you before you fell. 

Your hand clenched his shirt to make him bend down. Your face and his were so close that you could feel his breath. 

You saw his expression, he was not worried, but you could feel he was amused seeing your reaction. This bastard does this on purpose cause yesterday you embarrassed him.

There’s no way you would cry in front of this psycho. 

"Forgot… what I said….last night. I want them…gone."

Lloyd smirked. His hand removed yours that was holding his shirt. He touched your knuckles and kissed them gently. "As you wish my dear wife."

A/N: What do you guys think about this chapter? If you have any ideas for part 3, please tell me. It will be helpful. 

Don't be shy if you want to be tagged for part 3. 😄💕

This chapter is from Lloyd Hansen's Series - 3 Billion Divorce.

And check out my other stories from Masterlist.

Check out Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Extra Story

Tag list :

@jasminxts @alchemxx @imsolatetothegame @thorinsmistress @bree-lyrie @another-tblr-fangirl @buckysteveloki-me @motivation-idontknowher @cherrybubblebullet @supraveng @avery199 @evansce1 @ridingthehotmessexpress @hoely-maria @katymae12344 ara-theo @rebeccapineapple @spikeluv84

[fictional-orphan-smackdown]

ROBIN VS. ROBIN, GO!

All propaganda and what each competitor is from under the cut

Dick Grayson (DC Comincs)

So a bunch of Robins are orphans or orphan adjacent but Dick has the strongest case in his birth parents, whom he was raised by, being very very dead. The kind of orphanhood that sticks in the characterization marrow. Plus in some versions he was carted off to the orphanage and everything, starting his "what if I fist-fought my parents' killer myself" arc early until Bruce ultimately decided to pluck him off his warpath and adopt him.

Dick Grayson is truly the orphan of all time not only is he the ward of another famous orphan (batman) but he really was able to surpass his mentor after being orphaned and used that anger towards his parents death to immediately start fighting crime under the Robin Moniker. The other orphans in dc wish they could do it like him. Plus his name is Dick which is objectively funny.

Dressing like a stoplight and kicking people in the face under a bat furry's direction was the MORE reasonable coping strategy than his original plan. Of singlehandedly taking down the entire mafia even though he was a baby.

Think Batman had issues? Well, consider what happens is he raises his mini-me. This guy is waaaayy too tactically driven and ambitious for a thirteen-year-old. And awesome. And the adult version is —- somebody append a photo.

Okay I submitted Bruce Wayne but like I can’t not submit my beloved boy as well! Anyway his parents have the nebulous honor of being so fucking dead, like literally never coming back to life ever. They died in that circus and the only time I can possibly think of them as ‘coming back’ in any way is in Darkest Night, where there were zombies everywhere. So even when they return to the story they’re still fucking dead! Anyway Dick is like super orphaned, I love him but you look at him and you know his parents are dead.

Please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please

Trust me bro

Tim Drake (DC Comics)

An early reader-insert character, Tim had all the traits the average comics fan at the time wanted: money, martial arts skills, cool skateboard tricks, lots of girlfriends, secret knowledge about Batman and Robin. He volunteered to be Robin, because what comics fan wouldn't in his place? Continuing to be relatable, he's now bisexual, depressed, and living in a crappy apartment. Which is also a boat, because comics readers think it would be cool to live in a houseboat.

His biological mother, Janet Drake, was murdered in the carribean. In the same attack his biological father was hospitalized for injuries and in a coma. Janey Drake was buried on Christmas Eve. During the period that Jack Drake (his biological father) was in a coma he was temporarily under the care of Bruce Wayne. When Jack got out of the coma he was confined to a wheelchair while he went through physical therapy. He would meet his future second wife, Dana Winters through the physical therapy. The two would get married later, Tim having a good relationship with Dana. Her mediating between the father and son during some of the misunderstandings. Jack would find out that Tim was Robin, then realize Bruce Wayne was Batman, threaten Bruce with a gun, and order Tim to quit being Robin. Though later, Tim would get approval from his father to be Robin again and the two would start improving their father son relationship. During the event of identity crisis Tim's indenture would be at stake and Captian Boomerrang would break into the Drake's house and murder Jack just as Tim arrived. Tim having heard his last words over Comms. His stepmother Dana Winters would be hospitalized in Bludhaven for the mental trauma this inflicted on her, and would soon find herself a victim when Bludhaven was bombed/nuked. Tim would then be adopted by Bruce. Though in 2008 Bruce would be supposedly killed by an Omega Beam, leaving 17 year old Tim as a three times over orphan. Though Tim didn't believe Bruce to actually be dead, but lost in the timestream and would go on a Brucequest to get him back. On this trip he would lose his spleen, and nearly die multiple times.

Doomed by the narrative to become an orphan. Tim had a good thing going for a while, but after he started getting involved with the Bats, his life went downhill from there. He became Robin on the day of his mother's funeral. (I should note that the racism I mentioned in her cause of death is that the person who kills her is an awful racist caricature, NOT that she's canonically a POC.) From there, he spent a while balancing Batman (mentor) and his biological father (who was rendered comatose in the incident that killed his mother, but woke up not long after). Both the Robins that came before him were orphaned. As one Tumblr user put it: while Tim Drake managed to beat the odds and remain not an orphan, eventually, the writers succumbed to the calls of orphanhood. His father dies after he finds out Tim's identity, and it is because he knows the secret that he is ultimately targeted and dies. In the aftermath, Tim attempts to get revenge by assassinating the culprit, but ultimately is unable to betray his personal values and go through with it. He has one of the more realistic parent-child relationships among the Bats because it is down to earth in spite of the eventual doom. Really, it comes down to this: Robin isn't just Batman's sidekick, he's Batman's child. And that meant it was only a matter of. time before Tim Drake was orphaned

[papaver-decervicatus]

Headcanons- König (featuring a bit of Sebastian Krueger)

Authors Note: Full disclosure, at this point König is basically an OC of mine with how specifically I think of him. Which, in fairness, cannot be helped when his entire characterization is limited to 20 mins of voice lines, 131 words in his bio, and multiplayer animations exclusively. I feel similarly about a lot of the other SpecGru/KorTac operators but König is definetely the most fleshed out because I've been writing a lot about him (at this point, like 30k words extended universe thing whoo-ee.)

A tag for the lovely @kneelingshadowsalome who has inspired me to write the above mentioned story and all this silly little world building about one of our favorite masked murder men~! Thanks for being so kind and pushing me to publish my work after so long ❣️

⚠️TW: Mentions of abuse, murder, undiagnosed mental struggles, ableism (?), sexual assault, and human trafficking

Birthday, March 15th, 1982

Full name: Julius Kilgore Doss

Early Life and Backstory

Born and raised in the slums of Vienna, Austria to a poor family. His father was frequently unemployed but focused on manual labor jobs (he was also like 6'10 like his son,) and his mother worked various hospitality jobs.

He gets his first name from being born on the Ides of March.

Teasingly called “Kaiser” as a child for his name. This resulted in a minor obsession with Roman history in an attempt to disprove these accusations. That failed.

Result of a “baby trap” from his father. His parents got married when he was 3 years old.

He is an only child, and he was an incredibly complicated pregnancy. His mother was on bed rest for two trimesters.

He was born with a pretty severe cleft palette, this was the original cause of his bullying

When König was 12 or so he got his cleft palate surgically corrected, but he got permanent scarring from the event. 

This did not help his bullying. The site became infected and required multiple follow-up surgeries to correct. 

He was severely abused by his father, who would frequently intentionally scar König in an attempt to “toughen” his “shy” son up. 

The behaviors he was trying to correct were just König’s undiagnosed neurodivergence and the abuse did nothing but make König retreat further into himself. 

Undiagnosed au/dhd. Primarily manifests in masking in a need of control of his environment.

As much as he desires company, he has such a hard time relating to others (not because he lacks empathy, but he experiences it differently) he tends to be a loner save a few very close loved ones. 

Sebastian Krueger is his mother’s brother’s son. Krueger's father was in the military. 

Originally joined the military to get away from his hell of home life at Krueger's father's recommendation. Has re-enlisted ever since.

König is 3 years older than Krueger (March 29th, 1985)  and the two grew up together.

Krueger also had a little sister but she died in a car accident at 11 along with his mom. From then on, Krueger's father, König’s mother, and father, Krueger and König all lived in a medium-sized flat in Vienna. The two shared bedrooms often. 

Krueger was well known as a serial delinquent and general creep when they were growing up. Despite his harsh reputation, König always stood up for him (which did not help his bullying). The only time he didn’t was when he beat Krueger to a bloody pulp for attempting to assault a girl. 

Krueger never attempted that again and later thanked König reluctantly for setting him straight before he did something really stupid. 

Krueger never stood up for König in front of his face for fear of showing weakness but definitely threw some punches behind his back in his stead (which further isolated König). 

When he was 19 and came back from his first deployment, Krueger's father had a mental break and lit the flat on fire after murdering König’s father. Krueger was out at the time. 

He got in time to save his mother, but he gained third-degree scars on the right side of his face, cheek, and over a lot of his legs. 

Super insecure about it, and avoids wearing shorts like the plague.

Will never admit it, super fucking glad his dad died. 

Very close with his mother's mother, his Oma. When she got too old to live on her own, she moved in with König’s mom and she gave König her house near Gosau, Austria.

Credits the metal scene as single-handedly saving his life at 13. He went to jump off a bridge and was talked down by a local metal band bass player who was 17 at the time. The two became friends and König joined the metal scene. 

He became sort of a stagehand for local bands and bulked up as a result. Found he liked working out (because people were less likely to make fun of him) so he kept at it. 

Got the nickname “König” from underground bare-knuckle boxing rings. He was scouted at a bar during a fight at 15 (he was 6’3 at the time, and still growing) where he beat up someone for attempting to spike a girl's drink when he was there helping his bass player friend. 

He fought for around 3 years on and off and never lost a fight. He made decent money and learned a lot of stuff about sparring in the process. 

He didn’t stop his tendency for fighting in the service and got reprimanded a couple of times for picking fights with soldiers he disagreed with. 

Has yet to lose a one-on-one spar with another man, but hasn’t fought anyone outside of training sparring in years.

Appearance

6’10 and 280lbs at his peak, trapezoid body type. Athleticism most resembles a Hockey Player or a Boxer. Has lost some musculature with age but definitely stays on top of it.

His face is partially numb because of all the surgeries to correct his cleft palate and all the scarring.

 Even though it’s been years since any trauma to the area, he has sort of a “disquieting effect” because he doesn’t emote properly from the numbness. Mostly just numb around the bottom of his “Greek-style” nose and through his burn scars. Smiles appear lopsided as a result

Strawberry blond, pin-straight hair, that gets darker when he’s deployed because the hood blocks sunlight bleaching. 

As a teenager he let it grow down to his shoulders because he was involved in the local Vienna metal scene, when he joined the military he cut it short. Doesn’t care because no one sees it anyways. It’s usually in a crew-cut style. 

Hair has thinned as he's gotten older, will probably bald at some point (but I hold onto hope that that one person on twitter who teased that his model does actually have hair is right because I think it would be funny for him to have an elaborate braid or something)

He has bunny teeth that he never bothered getting corrected because he was bullied so badly he kind of gave up on vanity. 

Has stretch marks all over his body because he’s so massive, they tend to act up during the winter. 

He is not vain enough to do anything about them besides moisturizing when needed. 

Generally does the bare minimum extra besides keeping himself clean. 

Uses generic military-grade laundry soap, generic antiperspirant, and unscented lotion, but he does use spruce-scented aftershave and tea tree shampoo. 

Likes having facial hair, but rarely gets to. 

Plenty of Freckles, beauty marks, moles, etc. beige cool-toned skin otherwise. 

Has various tattoos but no piercings. Tattoos include

Skull with a crown on his left shoulder

Trash polka war scene sleeve on his right arm through the shoulder. 

Bleeding Laurel crown on his sternum

Dagger at the base of his neck 

Various basic things like a lion, some roses, a couple of guns

Does not wear the hood when not on duty, it was originally a last minute addition to his uniform for anonymity when in the field working with terrorists.

General

Blood type is AB+

Contrary to popular belief, is not shy so much as he is awkward. Has built up a sarcastic, cocky, and harsh persona to avoid (what is in his mind) inevitable heartbreak and betrayal by those closest to him. 

Genuinely cocky. He believes his own hype on that front. 

Actually, a big teddy bear but, next to nobody gets close enough to him to find that out. 

He (probably) has ADHD that manifests in nervous movement. 

Never got tested, never will. 

Struggles with anxiety that leads to depression, but the military was decently good for his mental health because of the strict scheduling and forced camaraderie.

Does not have a temper problem as much as he has an impulse problem. He doesn’t get into fights because he’s angry, he gets into fights because he’s a cocky bastard who knows he’ll win and he wants to speed up the process of others leaving him alone/deferring to his plans

The big difference between König and Krueger is that König wants control over his surroundings and others to be comfortable, and Krueger wants others to be uncomfortable and he wants control over others and he doesn’t care about his surroundings.  

König mostly wants to throw his weight around to get left on his own, and Krueger wants to manipulate others to do his bidding. 

König would solve an ethical disagreement by explaining himself until he came to blows with the other party. 

Krueger would go behind their back once he knew he wasn’t going to get his way, but wouldn’t result in physical violence immediately. 

Krueger needs other people to feel powerful and in control; he doesn’t really believe that he has an equal or a superior. He thinks in terms of leverage and power. 

König feels less powerful and in control when he has a ton of other people in the mix: he doesn’t like the unknown variable of a possible weak link. He thinks in terms of self-sufficiency and sacrifice. 

Wanted to be a sniper because the position is a solitary one, he wants to be put in positions where he doesn’t have to trust other people because he simply does not trust other people 

He is a really good shot

Often Times gets into little skirmishes with snipers because of jealousy 

Another reason he couldn’t be a sniper was his red/green colorblindness. It’s moderate to severe. 

He is a people watcher, he is genuinely concerned with the people around him. Will remember even the smallest details if he’s close to someone (which is a hard position to earn.)

Has a very duplicitous way about him. Cunning, ruthless, and bloodthirsty on the field but in reality he’s a very agitated, demure sort of guy off the clock, especially in crowds.

 Gets his “berserker” energy out on the battlefield. Is typically much more relaxed in “civilian” life or when in leadership positions. 

Chronically the instructor who starts off making every recruit shit themselves but becomes a base favorite after basic training when he opens up and shreds a bass solo at drunk karaoke night

He hates civilian life for more than 6 months at a time. If he has to go much longer than that without doing something related to field work he gets incredibly antsy and like. Decides to build a whole ass barn on his property from scratch because he always has to have something to do. 

Was promoted to Colonel incredibly young (32) for the position due to his exemplary ability as an insertions specialist and as a leader. Never attempted a rank above it because of forced retirement requirements. 

The only reason I can personally see my version of König in KorTac is because somewhere along the line he fucked up and was either going to be forcibly retired or put out of active combat in the Austrian Special Forces. 

You don’t become a Colonel in the military for fun and desert for merc work, and shitty merc work at that. 

More than likely I think he was supposed to retire and that made him have a midlife crisis because König doesn’t see himself as a person, he sees himself as a soldier. Without the army, he’s nothing. He needs that stability, that outlet, that free pass at total carnage- so when the army told him he had to call it quits, he “retired” and went to KorTac under the specific condition that his name not get used for fear of tarnishing the Austrian special forces. 

Not a particularly big “Austrian culture” nut but he has his moments. 

Prefers Austrian foods that he grew up with, likes beer a lot (and has gotten drunk only once in his life because he’s. Fuckoff massive,) and doesn’t care about culture/history all that much. 

He more or less just finds comfort in stuff that reminds him of the happier parts of his childhood, mostly the mountains. 

König considers himself “traditional” in the sense that he doesn’t believe women should be on the front lines of combat. If he has to attack an enemy woman, he much prefers it to be with a gun at long range. 

Doesn’t necessarily think of women as “lesser” instead he firmly believes that they are superior to men because they are better humans, less violent, etc. 

The number one hatred in life is men who are sex traffickers. 

Hatred was acquired from his work.

Has had various stints in therapy because of what he’s seen.

Fond memories of the house he inherited from his Oma It’s where he lives when not deployed. 

He also has a decently expensive townhouse in Vienna, mostly from when he was a colonel and he needed to be close to Vienna for work-related reasons. 

Has a shitton of money from his work that he just doesn’t spend on anything. Drives a shitty car, and inherited a nice house, he doesn’t have anything to spend it on so he ends up giving most of it to his mom, grandma, and local charities. Still always has a ton left over. 

Is a lumberjack and carpenter for hobbies, and built most of the furniture in the house. 

Very much enjoys the alpine lifestyle. Hunts his own game, leatherworks, the whole nine yards. 

This bitch cannot draw. Stick figures that look like marks dogs made with pens in their teeth. Awful, awful, awful at drawing. 

Very much an “audio person” who can remember anything he’s heard but has sort of a terrible sight memory. 

His handwriting is so bad it puts 6-year-olds to shame. 

Not overly religious, but believes in god, more as a “wow. What a sicko. Makin everything then fucking it up” sort of way. Prays on occasion. 

Doesn’t watch tv or movies. Would rather listen to music, go hiking, or read nonfiction books in his free time. 

Small psychology fascination. He’s read a lot of early psychology essays, he’s the kind of guy who likes to read shit from Freud and go “I’m bad but thank god I’m not this fucked up”

The punchline, of course, is that he is that fucked up.

The most expensive thing he owns (discounting his guns, knives, car, or house) is a custom long-double neck electric bass. 

Her name is Wulkyrie

Extensive custom knife collection. Finds cleaning them soothing. 

His favorite is a Custom Glock Field Knife that is 10 inches long, has a serrated edge on the bottom, and has a red hand chord he wrapped himself. 

Has the engraving of an Edelweiss flower at the base, her name is Kaiserin (empress) 

She is his prized possession. Goes nowhere without it. 

He also has a gun collection. It is much smaller due to firearm restrictions, but he certainly has many more than is necessary. 

Mostly hunting rifles. Probably also has a custom game bow. 

He can handle being a leader, but he does not enjoy it. He hates being under people, too. He is such a good leader, though, because he hates the position and the power that comes with it, so his troops are the most self-sufficient, inventive, and well-trained platoon in the army at any given time. He creates other leaders because he’s a very selfless commander. 

Believes the mark of a great leader is not the willingness to lead, but instead the reluctance to let others get hurt. The only thing he hates more than having someone tell him what to do is letting down someone beneath him. 

He’s taken the fall for many of his subordinates' screw-ups, but he’s an all-or-nothing guy. If you’re not loyal to him, your ass is grass. 

Bonus! Romance HCs (very very very slightly NSFW)

Gave up on dating early in his military career. He had a couple of short-term girlfriends, each he ended upon realizing he probably couldn’t be there for them like they wanted. 

Not sexually inexperienced, but rarely has partners more than once or twice. Has had sex with ten different people in his life tops. 

Simultaneously very badly wants to and is completely terrified of being a father. Should the stars align, he’d want nothing more than to have a full house with a lovely wife and a gaggle of little ones in the Alps. 

Would want a traditional Austrian wedding, especially fond of the “bride stealing” tradition. 

preferably a capable woman he wouldn’t have to worry about leaving in the mountains, would also probably only end up with a pretty extroverted partner who pursued him first.

They fell first, he fell much much much much harder. Admires her from afar for a long time but doesn’t think he’s worthy so he never makes the first move. Once he realizes that she’s not going anywhere and can handle herself, he’s violently loyal. 

Also desperately wants a partner who is less strong than him so he can feel like his strength can be put to good use in protecting them. 

Has a marking fixation, clothing, jewelry, hickies, bruises, cum, etc. 

Anniversary presents include modest but expensive jewelry, knives, tools, and replacement bed frames for the ones that. Got broken. Whoops! 

Love languages are receiving physical touch and words of affirmation. Giving is physical touch and acts of service.

[mylittlegemlins]

Spy x family hurt/comfort ideas for destroy your soul:

-loid and yor are expecting a child, anya is jealous that they don't love her as much as their own child.

-Loid, speaking seriously with Sylvia: " fuck it, I'm going to keep them and if you want me to continue being your star spy, you're going to give me missions that don't involve falling in love with women or adopting children, one is enough for me. "

-Loid thinks about the joy his wife and daughter bring him: God, when was the last time I did something just for… fun? Why I didn't do it befo-... oh right... This is a mission

-Loid wonders how Yor had never dated anyone until she was 27, then Yor interprets something very literal and Loid thinks, oh that's why.

-Since Loid saw that Anya had too much stress after the sandbox test, he is very worried about her mental health. Anya stares into space because she's busy thinking about what he thought. But he thinks that the poor girl she is dissociating due to a trauma and he tries to repair her with kisses and hugs.

-The mission ends on the night of a full moon, so Anya has no idea if her father plans to get rid of them, or how, or when, she just stays close to her parents for as long as she can.

-Yor begins to question if she is going to be married to Loid until death do them part, since she barely knows Loid... Well, she knows him a little... For a year... But she is not sure of her feelings for him.

- -Loid finally decides to take Anya to the doctor because bleeding from the nose every time you get overwhelmed by loud noises might not be normal. Anya is just terrified that the doctors will open her brain and see that she has her powers, somehow. he also discovers that she is very low in weight and height for her age and worries even more.

-you love me? Direct question to destroy the heart of the best spy in the country, especially if it comes from a child, especially if it comes from an orphan, especially if it comes from his daughter who has never lived more than 4 months with an adoptive family because they did not get attached to her. Answer honestly, she will know if you lie.

-The Strix mission ended. Loid abandons Anya and breaks up with Yor without much explanation. only to regret it 15 minutes later and run to find them.

-Anya obtains 7 tonitrus having already 7 stellas. And she knows that expulsion is closer than the prize. So she runs away from home.

- Anya is finally ready to tell Loid a little about her birth mother and the orphanage, and it hurts.

-Anya never had a birthday party because there was no budget at the orphanage. Loid is able to hiring even the boys who cry if that makes his daughter happy

-Yor is hospitalized due to a fight and telling your husband that you have appendicitis is easier than explaining to him that some criminals shot you 3 times in the hip and who the hell you're still alive.

-Bond has to bite one Forger to save them from some imminent danger he predicted but the rest of the family panics and gets very angry with Bond.

-"If you keep getting close to dangerous guys you are going to get really hurt one day." Ergo, Anya gets hurt.

-Did you know that adoptable children in real life know that their chances of being adopted go down as they grow older because most only adopt babies? Anya knows it.

-Loid and Yor have no choice but to sleep together because their daughter is terribly ill in the hospital and her last wish is to sleep with them together. Or she actually has a common cold and they took her to the emergency room because they panicked when her fever went up 0.1 degrees.

- Damian wants to hang out with Anya but he would never let Emilie and Ewen find out.

-Loid comforting Anya during an anxiety attack because he thinks it's because of her past and only he knows.

-Instead of directly saying that he wants to keep his family or give up being a spy, he begins by extending the mission for 4 more months, and then another 4 more. And when he realizes 4 years have passed.

-Yor asks Loid about his dead ex-wife because they will never go to leave her flowers or he doesn't have old photos of her and baby Anya. Loid has many photos to fake.

T/W torture

-Anya biological father is a voluteer or one of the scientist because she was made by artificial insemination so that she was born, Anya's mother was kidnapped from a rural town where her language was almost extinct.

-The scientists remove Anya's mother's tongue so that she cannot communicate with her other than through her telepathy.

-The scientists being really mad the first time that her powers didn't work during the full moon.

-Still has nightmares about the electroshock in the laboratory every time she failed the tests. Her parents try to console her but she can't tell them anything, even if she wants. still hurts.

[alilixx]

Henyoo!! :3 Can I please request a House M.D. married polyamorous Hudson (House x Cuddy x Wilson) AU and them having two daughters together? Maybe half domestic fluff at home and half ridiculous shenanigans at the hospital with House's DDX team finding out about all of this by slowly piecing together clues? Much appreciation if you do this one, thanks in advance! XD <3

Ahah i love the idea! First time i didn't write about a character x Reader but why not (i love them sm too dw).

The throuple was pure chaos, at least on the inside, but from the outside, no one would have guessed, except for House and those close to him, like his team. Of course, it took some time for it to become obvious. Cameron was the first to notice the small detail that seemed insignificant: how often Wilson and Cuddy were eating together.

For Wilson, this didn't seem unusual. He was used to eating with his patients, with House, with everyone, really. But Cuddy? Cuddy was the type to eat alone, stuck in her office between meetings or while catching up on paperwork. Seeing her in the cafeteria, and not just to scold House, but actually having lunch with Wilson, was the first clue that Cameron picked up on.

At first, she didn’t pay much attention, thinking it was perhaps just a coincidence. But as days went by, the lunches became more frequent. Cameron then began to observe, mentally noting these moments that were multiplying: a shared coffee break here, a knowing smile there, conversations that seemed longer and more animated than usual. She talked to Chase and Foreman about it, who initially shrugged, skeptical. "You're imagining things," Chase would say. "Wilson is sociable; Cuddy and he are probably just talking about the hospital and the stress House causes them."

But for Cameron, there was more to it. She knew Cuddy and Wilson well enough to know that it wasn’t just about work. And then there was House, who, while always hiding his true feelings behind a cynical facade, seemed a bit more irritable every time Cuddy and Wilson were together. The looks he gave when he caught them laughing, whispering secrets, all of this only strengthened Cameron's suspicions.

Of course, the young woman tried to bring it up with the team again. After observing Wilson, Cuddy, and House for several weeks, Cameron could no longer ignore the signs. The muffled laughter, the knowing glances, and those meetings in the cafeteria that seemed to last a bit longer than they should. Something was off, and she couldn’t keep it to herself any longer. One morning, while the team was gathered in the diagnostic room, she decided to bring up the subject.

"Have you noticed anything strange with House, Wilson, and Cuddy lately?" she asked, breaking the silence as Foreman and Chase were reviewing the latest results of a patient.

Chase looked up, intrigued. "You mean apart from the fact that they all act weird most of the time?"

Foreman, always pragmatic, frowned. "I see where you're going with this, Cameron. They do seem closer. But that doesn’t mean anything. They've always been close friends."

Cameron shook her head. "No, it’s different this time. I’ve seen them together several times, and it wasn’t just work conversations. There’s something more. And House... he seems strangely calm when the three of them are together. As if he knows something we don’t."

This revelation caught Chase's attention. "What are you suggesting? That we start our own little investigation on our colleagues?" Cameron shrugged. "I just want to understand what’s going on. And I’m sure you’ve noticed things too."

At first, Foreman and Chase remained skeptical, but little by little, they started paying more attention to the interactions between House, Wilson, and Cuddy. What seemed like simple coincidences became harder to ignore: exchanged smiles, moments of silence that seemed to say a lot, and the way they synchronized without even speaking. As the weeks went by, the mystery deepened.

Eventually, the team couldn’t resist the temptation to conduct their own investigations. They began asking subtle questions, closely monitoring their habits, and exchanging theories. All this was done without the trio realizing they were the subject of an unofficial investigation.

But of course, nothing really escaped House. He quickly started to notice that his team was particularly curious about him, and he mentioned it to Wilson and Cuddy. One evening, the three of them met in Cuddy’s office, laughing about the situation.

"You really let them think they could figure us out?" Wilson asked, laughing. House smiled, amused. "Why not? It keeps them busy. And besides, it’s quite entertaining to watch them try to play detectives."

Cuddy shook her head, a smile on her lips. "They won’t give up until they know the truth. You know that, House." House shrugged. "Maybe. But it’s not like they could ever understand what we have, anyway."

Months passed, and as the team continued searching for clues, the throuple increasingly enjoyed their attempts. The tension of keeping their relationship secret became less and less burdensome because they knew that as long as they were together, they could overcome anything.

One day, news changed everything. Cuddy announced to Wilson and House that she had decided to adopt a little girl, Rachel. It was a decision she had thought about for a long time, and she knew it would change their dynamic, but she felt ready.

Wilson smiled when he heard the news. "Rachel, huh? That's a beautiful name." House, surprisingly, seemed moved. "You know this is going to make everything even more complicated, right?"

Cuddy nodded. "I know. But I think it’s the right thing to do. And I want both of you to be there, for her and for me." Wilson took Cuddy's hand in his, and House joined them, placing his hand on theirs.

In the days following Rachel's arrival in Cuddy's life, the throuple, of course, was different now. At first, they had to adapt to this new presence, this little girl who demanded all the attention and time Cuddy could give her. House and Wilson, although not really knowing how to handle a baby, did their best to support Cuddy in her new life as a mother.

One sunny Saturday afternoon, Cuddy suggested taking Rachel to the park. She thought it would be a good opportunity for all of them to relax a bit. House, who wasn’t particularly thrilled about the idea of spending time in a crowded park, grumbled a bit but eventually gave in to Cuddy’s persistent request.

When they arrived at the park, Wilson quickly spread out a blanket on the grass while Cuddy placed Rachel on the ground, surrounded by a few colorful toys. House sat down next to them, his sunglasses hiding part of his face, observing the scene with a feigned look of indifference.

Rachel, curious about her new surroundings, started crawling on the blanket, grabbing one of her toys and chewing on it happily. Wilson smiled, amused by the little girl’s boundless energy.

"She seems to be having a good time," Wilson said, turning to Cuddy, who was watching Rachel with obvious tenderness.

"Yes," she replied, her eyes shining with pride. "I think she likes being outside. She’s so curious about everything."

House, who had been silently observing the scene, suddenly leaned forward and grabbed one of Rachel's toys. He held it up in front of her, shaking it slightly to catch her attention. Rachel, intrigued, reached out for the toy, bursting into laughter when House lifted it out of her reach.

Wilson laughed. "You know, you could at least try to be nice." House shrugged, a sly smile on his face. "I’m just teaching her a life lesson: you can’t always get what you want."Cuddy rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. "Yes, but maybe we could be a bit gentler with her, don’t you think?"

House looked at Rachel, who was staring at him with innocent curiosity, and he felt something inside him relax a little. He lowered the toy and handed it to Rachel, who grabbed it joyfully, letting out a little cry of victory. "I guess I can make an exception," he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else.

Of course, there were plenty of little cute moments like that. Especially with Rachel, people who didn’t know them might think House wasn’t affectionate, given the love Wilson and Cuddy showed Rachel, but it was the opposite.

She and Wilson crossed paths in the hallway, clearly exhausted. "What are we going to do about Rachel?" Cuddy asked, worried. "I can’t leave the hospital right now, and she can’t be left alone any longer."

Wilson quickly thought through possible solutions. "I could call someone, maybe a friend, but it will take time..."

House, who happened to be passing by, caught their conversation. "Looking for someone to babysit the little terror?" he asked with his usual sarcastic tone, but there was a hint of something else in his voice, something softer.

Cuddy and Wilson exchanged a glance. They knew House wasn’t exactly the first choice for looking after a baby, but they were out of options.

"House, would you be willing to take care of Rachel tonight?" Cuddy asked, her voice tinged with both hope and doubt. House rolled his eyes but sighed. "Yeah, why not. I don’t have anything better to do anyway."

So House found himself driving to Cuddy’s house. He couldn’t help but smile, imagining what his team would think if they saw him in this situation. Upon arriving, he entered cautiously, not wanting to wake Rachel if she was already asleep.

Rachel was awake, sitting in her playpen with her toys, and as soon as she saw House, she let out a little cry of joy. House couldn’t help but smile despite himself. "Well, looks like you’re stuck with me tonight, kiddo."

He sat down next to her and watched her play for a while. Rachel, with her usual energy, began reaching out toys towards him, babbling happily. House, unfamiliar with this kind of play, clumsily tried to participate, shaking the toys as he had seen Cuddy and Wilson do.

Minutes turned into hours, and soon, Rachel began showing signs of tiredness. House gently picked her up, rocking her as he had seen Cuddy do. Against all odds, Rachel quickly calmed down, resting her head on his shoulder, her eyes slowly closing.

House found himself on the couch, lying down with Rachel cuddled against him. He was surprised to find himself enjoying this unexpected moment of calm, the comforting warmth of the little girl against him. Before long, the fatigue from his day overcame him, and he fell asleep, Rachel peacefully asleep in his arms.

Wilson and Cuddy arrived a few hours later, exhausted from their long day at the hospital. Entering quietly into the house, Cuddy signaled Wilson to be quieter so as not to wake Rachel. They walked down the hallway to the living room, expecting to find House probably slumped on the couch, feet on the coffee table.

What they saw stopped them in their tracks. There, on the couch, House was lying down, Rachel nestled against his chest, her little arms around him. Both were sleeping deeply, their breaths synchronized in a soothing rhythm.

Cuddy put a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with surprise. "I never would have thought I’d see this," she murmured, a tender smile forming on her lips.

Wilson also smiled, warmth filling his heart as he saw the scene in front of them. "Who would have thought House could be so... gentle?" he whispered, approaching the couch carefully.

Cuddy came closer too, trying not to make any noise. She crouched down softly next to the couch, watching Rachel, peaceful in House's arms. It was an unexpected but beautiful image, and she felt her heart swell with tenderness.

"Should we wake them?" Wilson asked in a low voice, hesitating to break this peaceful moment. Cuddy shook her head, the smile still on her face. "No, let's leave them. They both look comfortable. And besides, it's nice to see House like this."

They stayed there for a moment, just watching, soaking in the unexpected tenderness of the scene. Finally, Cuddy gently draped a blanket over them, covering Rachel and House, before standing up. "I'll prepare something to eat. We can wake them up gently afterward."

Wilson nodded, following Cuddy into the kitchen, casting one last fond glance at House and Rachel. That evening, they had seen another side of House, a softer side.

It was rare for House to be so adorable, to be honest, but don't think it was everywhere; it was only in private. When Rachel came to the hospital, House tried to act normal, but Cameron could see a bit more gentleness, Foreman was sure it was because of some paternal instinct, and Chase didn’t care; he wanted to have that too, so he avoided being there.

Over the months, the relationship between House, Wilson, and Cuddy deepened and became more refined, each day bringing new moments of closeness and affection. Wilson and Cuddy loved this side of House, but who would have thought it? Certainly not them!

One morning, Cuddy woke up before the two men, a rare moment of calm and peace. House and Wilson were still asleep, each on their side of the bed, the soft morning light reflecting on their relaxed faces. Cuddy smiled, appreciating the sight.

She leaned over to Wilson first, placing a light kiss on his lips. He murmured something in his sleep, a smile spreading across his face. Then, she turned to House, kissing him on the cheek, near his stubble.

House opened one eye, grumbling slightly but smiling nonetheless. "Handing out morning kisses again?" Cuddy laughed softly. "There's never a bad time for a kiss."

Wilson woke up as well, opening his eyes to see Cuddy and House talking quietly. "Did I miss something?" he asked, stretching his arms over his head.

"Just Cuddy waking us up gently," House replied with a smile.

Wilson smiled, moving closer to give a kiss to Cuddy and House, a gesture of tenderness and affection that never failed to warm their hearts. "It's the best way to start the day."

As they enjoyed this quiet morning, a thought crossed Wilson's mind, and he felt it was the right moment to share what was on his heart.

Wilson sat up slightly in the bed, his expression becoming a bit more serious. "Cuddy, House, I need to talk to you about something important."

Cuddy also sat up, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "What's going on, Wilson? You seem worried." House, still lying down but now fully awake, raised an eyebrow, ready to listen to what Wilson had to say.

Wilson took a deep breath before continuing. "I got a call from the psychiatric hospital last night. My brother, Danny, is still there, and his situation isn’t really improving. He won't be able to take care of his son, Max, and he has no one else. I think... I think I should adopt him."

A silence filled the room, each of them absorbing the news. Cuddy nodded gently, understanding the weight of the decision Wilson was considering. "Wilson, that's a big decision. Are you sure you want to do this?"

Wilson sighed and nodded. "Yes, I'm sure. Max needs someone, and I can't let my nephew end up in the foster system. I want to be there for him, to give him a family."

House looked at Wilson with a mixture of admiration and challenge. "That's a big step, Wilson. Adopting a child, especially under these circumstances... It's going to change your life. Our life."

Wilson knew that this decision would affect not only him but also their dynamic as a throuple. He was ready to take on this responsibility, but he wanted to make sure that Cuddy and House were also comfortable with the idea. "I understand this will have an impact on all of us. I just want you to know that I'm not expecting anything from you. I just want to be there for Max."

Cuddy squeezed Wilson's hand a little tighter, a reassuring smile on her face. "Wilson, you are one of the most compassionate and generous people I know. If you want to adopt Max, we will be here to support you. To support him."

House rolled his eyes, but there was a barely perceptible smile at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, yeah. We'll just have to learn to get used to having more people in this house. Let's hope the kid isn't as insufferable as you."

Wilson chuckled softly, touched by his partners' support. "Thank you, both of you. It means a lot to me. I know it will be an adjustment, but I truly believe it's the right thing to do."

House leaned over to Wilson, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. "Then let's do it. And if this kid has even a tenth of your kindness, it will be worth it."

Cuddy kissed Wilson in turn, then rested her head on his shoulder. "We’ll be a family for Max, just like we’ve made our own. He’ll have a lot of love here, that’s for sure."

In that moment, wrapped in a warm embrace, Wilson felt that despite the challenges ahead, they were ready to welcome Max into their lives.

The first Christmas the new family spent together was a particularly magical moment, filled with warmth, laughter, and both new and old traditions. Cuddy's house was decorated with string lights, scented candles, and a large holly wreath hanging on the front door. A big Christmas tree stood proudly in the living room, sparkling with golden garlands and ornaments carefully hung by Rachel and Max.

That morning, the house was full of excitement. Rachel woke up first, as usual, and jumped into House and Wilson's bed to wake them up. She was already in her Christmas pajamas, red and green, with a little Santa hat on her head. She bounced on the bed with energy.

"Wake up! It's Christmas!" she shouted joyfully.

Wilson was the first to open his eyes, laughing softly at Rachel's excitement. "Well, it looks like someone is ready to open presents," he said as he sat up.

House, who was not a morning person, grumbled as he turned over, but he smiled when he saw Rachel so happy. "Yeah, yeah, Merry Christmas, little elf," he muttered as he sat up. He couldn’t help but smile at her contagious enthusiasm.

Cuddy, already awake and downstairs, was preparing breakfast. The smell of freshly brewed coffee, pancakes, and bacon filled the air, giving the house an even more festive atmosphere. Max came down the stairs slowly, his eyes still half-closed, but a big smile on his face. He was wearing a Christmas sweater he had insisted on putting on, decorated with a reindeer with a bright red nose.

Cuddy smiled when she saw Max enter the kitchen. "Merry Christmas, Max," she said, kissing him on the cheek. "Did you sleep well?"

Max nodded. "Yes, I had a dream about Santa Claus and his reindeer," he said excitedly. "I wonder if he really came!"

Once everyone was gathered around the Christmas tree, they began to open presents. Rachel, impatient, rushed over to the tree and grabbed the first package with her name on it. She tore it open with enthusiasm, revealing a huge teddy bear. "Thank you, thank you!" she shouted, running to hug Cuddy, Wilson, and House in turn.

Max, more reserved, opened his gifts carefully. He received a high-quality drawing set and a collection of books he had mentioned wanting to read. "Thank you so much," he said with a sincere smile, his eyes shining with gratitude.

House, pretending to be bored, theatrically opened his gift to discover a black cashmere scarf. "Well, at least you have good taste," he joked, but you could see in his eyes that he genuinely appreciated the gift.

Wilson opened his own gift, a classic watch with an inscription engraved on the back: "Forever, together." He looked at Cuddy and House with emotion, thanking them with a simple, "It's perfect."

Cuddy opened the last gift. It was a delicate silver necklace with a star-shaped pendant. "It's beautiful," she said, tears in her eyes. "Thank you, really." She leaned in to kiss House and Wilson, her heart overflowing with love and gratitude.

After opening the presents, they all sat around the dining room table for a sumptuous Christmas meal. The table was beautifully set with festive dishes and red and white candles. A large platter of roasted turkey sat in the center, surrounded by mashed potatoes, grilled vegetables, stuffing, and gravy.

Rachel sat next to House, who helped her cut her turkey into small pieces. "You know, Rachel," House said as he handed her a plate, "turkey isn't so bad when you're surrounded by good people."

Cuddy smiled as she served Max some juice. "I agree, House. This year has been full of surprises, and I am so grateful to have this family."

Max raised his glass of fruit juice. "To family," he said with a smile.

"To family," everyone echoed as they raised their glasses.

While Cuddy, House, Wilson, Rachel, and Max were celebrating Christmas in a warm and festive atmosphere, others at the hospital were starting to piece together the puzzle regarding their colleagues' unusual relationship.

Cameron, Chase, and Foreman had spent the past few months observing subtle but significant changes in the behavior of House, Cuddy, and Wilson. The exchanged glances, the knowing smiles, and the hints at events they'd shared together had become too numerous to ignore.

On Christmas Day, the trio found themselves at the hospital for an unexpected shift. They finished their tasks earlier than anticipated and decided to settle in the break room to chat. The conversation quickly drifted toward their colleagues.

"Have you noticed how much they're always together lately?" Cameron asked, glancing at the others. She was, of course, referring to House, Cuddy, and Wilson. "They spend a lot of time with each other, even outside of work."

Chase nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I've seen House and Wilson coming out of Cuddy's office several times after hours. And it doesn't seem like they’re having regular work meetings."

Foreman, who had been silent until now, spoke up. "At first, I thought it was just House being... House. Always trying to get closer to Cuddy. But Wilson too? And both of them? That can't be a coincidence."

Cameron smiled, leaning forward in her chair. "I think you're right. They're more than just friends, that's for sure. Maybe even... together."

Chase raised his eyebrows, intrigued. "You mean, all three of them? It's possible, but it seems... complicated."

Foreman crossed his arms, thinking. "House likes complicated things. And Cuddy and Wilson have always been closer to him than we thought. It could actually work. They all have strong, but complementary personalities."

They stayed silent for a moment, absorbing this new perspective. Cameron, with a sly smile, shook her head. "That would explain a lot of things, actually. Why they're all so happy lately, despite the usual tensions at the hospital."

Chase chuckled softly. "If they're happy, then good for them. They deserve some happiness, especially with everything that's going on here."

Foreman smiled as well, relaxing in his chair. "Yeah, I guess it's none of our business. As long as they keep doing their jobs, that's all that matters."

Cameron nodded, her eyes sparkling with amused curiosity. "I have to say, it's an interesting dynamic. But you're right, Foreman. To each their own private life."

At that moment, the trio burst out laughing, imagining the reactions of the other hospital staff if they found out the truth.

A little later, as they were getting ready to finish their day, they walked past House's office. Through the window, they caught a glimpse of a scene that confirmed their suspicions.

House, Cuddy, and Wilson were sitting around House's desk, sharing laughter, knowing glances, and even tender gestures that left no doubt. House had his hand resting on Cuddy's, while Wilson was smiling softly, his eyes sparkling with happiness.

Chase, Cameron, and Foreman looked at each other, smiles on all their faces. They didn't need any more proof. They walked away quietly, leaving the trio to their moment of happiness.

[sapphicwritergal]

Horikoshi is a professional mind fucker, he could be a virgin yet the way he writes fucks with the mind, I'M A VICTIM.

Endeavor s1, 2,3,4 = Referred to as a complete ASSHOLE, pushed his beliefs on his son (Horikoshi sucked his cock enough to make him nicer in the backstories) every piece of information we are given about this man in these seasons are that he's a dick, he fucked up his only family and then switched up once he became number one, or when he knew he'd be number one, it's honestly fuckin sad, and then in seasons 5,6,7 we see this always gentle, good helping guy, "çharacter development—" SHUT UP, WHAT SHOTO HAS IS DEVELOPMENT EVEN IF IT'S FUCKING SPEEDED ALONG.

Rei = She agreed and was sold off but when you're raised to be a of use to your family or to save your family and you don't really care, Rei has spoken up, she's tried, but she never has a position of power, she can't speak like she should but only could when Enji was in a hospital bed, she was in a mental hospital from the time she scarred Shoto to when he was in highschool, I'm sorry for to be there that long is horrendous and to be put in the same placement as the man that would hit you when you defended your children and hit those children and hit YOU in front of those children, baby I'd go insane too, "Oh but when she married Endeavor she knew-" If she knew she wouldn't defend her children, and she expected them to be raised into heroes but by beating them around the age of five and six was not in the review.

Bakugou = This is where the tomatoes come, and it's completely normal to like him even if I don't, he's a dick, all three seasons he's a dick, he simmers down because all mights retirement humbled him, it's not bad to give a downright dick a bad arc so you can put him through hell and fix him, that's not bad, but admit he was a bully, admit he's downright disrespectful a majority of times, the way he only gets nice to Midoriya is when they drag his ass to U. A, I hate hearing his inner dialogue about Midoriyas situation, if being a bitch until you need to be nice is character development then I'm not for it, and I don't mind when characters who are dicks get kindness but we have him dragging Midoriya and suddenly it's them against the world.

Shoto, poor Shoto, see he's very solid then he breaks apart, like ice that melts when hell is on him, no Im alluding to his parents And his connection with them, Shoto despite having a grudge is right through and through, his father drove his mom insane and then she was in a mental hospital, his rebelling is not wrong, it could be seen as him trying to oppose the abuser yet makes him slightly feel that he has to stop using fire for a bit until his mom is like it's all fine and you do you babes, he's always been a snark to Bakugou so it's really stupid to make him the resident punching bag, "Oh but Shoto sees Bakugou as a friend—" THAT'S FINE HOWEVER THIS TAKES AWAY HIS CHARACTERIZATION OF SEASONS 1,2,3 AND MAYBE 4, Bakugou being high and mighty only for Shoto be like fuck out of my way.

Hawks = I almost tricked my mind, he looks good but he's murdered twice and I'm saying that I don't give a FUCK about what Twice could have done, shit, I just don't like the fact they became friends and he just betrayed Twice, it's like if time came and you both are friends and he's hired to kill you for some reason, mf will kill you, he's tainted by the hero commission and it's sad, because his dreams were the advantage, he realizes that over time, he didn't kill just anyone that was a friend and that is backstabbing and then instead of him still seeing what he did as the right thing, just let him have conflict like a normal person unless we're revealed that he's a sociopath, I don't hate him but the anti tag makes me feel comfortable.

[bright-and-burning]

extremely complicated breakup in the friend group and i just found out abt it a Week Later but omg i have to tell SOMEONE abt this bc it’s insane

like. S and J dated our sophomore and junior years when J and K were roommates. they were super codependent and never spent time w anyone else or alone, then bad breakup, mental health crisis involving hospital time, etc.

K and S start dating our senior year. J is deeply upset bc K and him were besties, roommates, like K witnessed everything go down, and he’s still going for S.

S has a job lined up in college town for after graduation, signs a lease and everything. K has a job lined up here in boston. S finds a job, breaks her lease and quits the old job, moves in with K (AND N AND R. two of our other friends from college). K and S are super codependent (i think i’ve seen this one beforeeee) but even worse bc they live together. every minute they aren’t at their respective jobs they are together. they do the same rec league sports, they cook together, they do all their hobbies together, and then at the end of the night they get in bed together. and when i say All Their Hobbies i mean ALL. and this i know for a fact bc i slept on their couch for three weeks.

they (K and S and N and R) just signed a lease renewal Last Month. just found out from a friend who doesn’t live with them (D) that K and S broke up bc “K doesn’t see a future with her” (oh Lordt)

now K is sleeping on people’s couches while S figures out if she wants to move back in w her parents or What. AND K is trying to get in on housing w Literally All of Our Friends

like. D (guy) and A (girl) live together rn (everyone assumes they’re dating bc of it it’s kind of funny), and bc we all got jobs at separate times everyone else lives alone which is Expensive. so D, A, C, and M had this plan to find a place closer to the city/on a transit line (so i can actually visit them!!!), only now K AND MAYBE N ALSO WANT TO GET IN ON THIS. D does NOT want to live with K bc he’s got a reputation from college (idk how much he’s changed) of being a hella messy roommate while also being a control freak (ok the need to be in charge is still true. i can confirm that).

this is. messy. and literally last week i was like i could never live like S and K i would commit arson after a month it would drive me nuts. and D was like we called it lowkey bc every time marriage was brought up in a group convo (there’s a running joke that M refuses to be the first to get married, there’s like three long term couples in our friend group so when couples come to visit it comes up as a half joke half serious thing yk) K’d like . freeze up and go blank like no “oh that’s a ways down the road” or “haha yeah someday” or whatever, just like straight up panic. which is odd for him cuz he’s always got jokes yk?

so. yeah holy fuck bruh. this is the second time an S break up has had reverberating impact on our friend group 😭😭😭 J only JUST managed to be in the same room as her THIS YEAR (and HE LIVES LIKE FIFTEEN HOURS AWAY so it wasn’t that big of an issue after we graduated !!!) but now we have This and we all live in the same city!!!! to say nothing about. LEASES!!!