#did i not. well i was going to say did i not call it but there was nothing to call it was just the only possible option

[pucksandpower]

Enjoy the Butterflies

Daniel Ricciardo x crazy rich!Reader

Summary: in which Daniel gets dropped by his team and picked up by an heiress with a penchant for taking in strays

The heavy bass of the club still hums in your bones as you step out onto the pavement, the humid Singapore night wrapping around you like a second skin. The neon lights from Zouk, one of the city’s most exclusive nightclubs, pulse in rhythm with your heartbeat, and for a second, you stand still, relishing the quiet that follows hours of dancing, laughter, and too many cocktails.

The sounds of the party still echo behind you, a muffled roar of privilege and extravagance, but out here, it’s just you and the night.

Or so you think.

Your attention is pulled toward a commotion just a few meters away. You blink, trying to make sense of the scene. There’s a man — definitely not local, tall, and a little scruffy compared to the sharp-dressed crowd you’re used to — being unceremoniously escorted out by one of the bouncers. His head hangs low, and his shoulders are slumped in a way that screams defeat.

It’s not the dramatic, messy kind of exit where someone’s too drunk to stand, or too proud to admit they’ve done something wrong. No, this is different. This guy isn’t even trying to fight back.

“Get lost,” the bouncer grunts, shoving the man one last time before turning to head back inside.

You can’t help it — you freeze, your gaze lingering on him. He doesn’t move, just leans against the wall like he’s considering sinking to the ground. His posture is pitiful in a way that tugs at something inside you, that soft part of you that your family says is too soft. The part that’s always drawn to the broken, the hopeless, the ones who don’t quite fit.

He lets out a long, dramatic sigh, his eyes flicking up to the club entrance, like maybe if he stares long enough, he’ll magically be allowed back in. He’s pathetic. There’s no other word for it. But he’s also kind of endearing, in a weird way.

“Pathetic,” you mutter under your breath, half-amused.

You could leave him there, you know that. This isn’t your problem. He’ll figure something out. Or not. It’s not like you owe him anything, but …

"Are you just going to stand there?” You hear yourself saying, your feet already moving toward him before you can stop them.

His head snaps up, clearly not expecting anyone to address him. His eyes — big, brown, and confused — lock onto yours. He’s a little scruffy, but there’s something boyishly charming about him.

“I — uh,” he stammers, straightening up slightly but still looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. “No. I mean, yeah, I guess?”

You roll your eyes. “That’s not an answer.”

He shrugs helplessly. “Well, I don’t really have one. Kinda got kicked out of the only place I planned on being tonight.”

You narrow your eyes. “What did you do?”

“I, uh …” He scratches the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “I don’t know, honestly. Might’ve been a little too loud, or maybe I was blocking someone important from getting their drinks. These places, man, they don’t like it when you’re … disruptive.”

You cross your arms, glancing at him up and down. He doesn’t look dangerous, just out of place. “You sound like you deserved it.”

He winces. “Probably did.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you’re still standing there, wondering why you’re wasting your time. Then, before you know it, you’re sighing. Your family would shake their heads at you, calling you too kind for your own good.

“Come on,” you say, jerking your head toward the curb. “Let’s go.”

He blinks. “What?”

You nod toward the curb, where your Rolls Royce waits, engine quietly idling. The chauffeur stands by, staring straight ahead like this is the most normal thing in the world, like this isn’t some insane act of kindness you’re pulling out of nowhere.

“I’m not leaving you out here,” you say, already heading toward the car. “Get in.”

“Uh — wait, seriously?” He hurries to catch up, still clearly not processing what’s happening. “You don’t even know me.”

You shrug, throwing a look over your shoulder. “Do I need to?”

“Usually, yeah,” he says, jogging slightly to keep pace with you. “I mean, what if I’m like, a complete psycho or something?”

“If you were, I doubt you’d be sitting against a wall feeling sorry for yourself,” you shoot back, opening the car door. “Now get in before I change my mind.”

There’s a brief moment of hesitation, like he’s weighing his options, but then he shakes his head, muttering something under his breath, and slides into the backseat beside you. The leather is cool against your skin, the scent of luxury and privilege permeating the air, and for a second, it’s quiet as the door closes behind you both.

The driver pulls away from the curb smoothly, not asking questions.

“So … you do this often?” The man asks, still clearly bewildered. “Pick up random guys outside clubs?”

You snort, turning to face him. “Definitely not.”

“Then why me?”

You shrug. “You looked pathetic.”

His eyebrows shoot up, and for a second, you think you’ve offended him, but then he laughs — loud, unabashed, and surprising. “Wow. Okay. Well, thanks, I guess?”

You smile despite yourself. “Don’t mention it.”

He leans back in the seat, still grinning. “I’m Daniel, by the way. Ricciardo. Not sure if that means anything to you.”

You narrow your eyes, the name clicking into place. “The F1 driver?”

He looks a little sheepish but nods. “Yeah, that’s me.”

You stare at him for a moment, processing that. It’s not like you keep up with racing, but you’ve definitely heard of him. Seen him in ads, maybe, or on TV. It’s a little weird, thinking about it now. The same guy who’s smiling at you, a little bashfully, is famous in his own right.

“I didn’t recognize you,” you say, somewhat apologetic.

He shrugs again, more relaxed now. “Don’t worry about it. Happens more often than you think. Usually, I’m not getting kicked out of places, though.”

You smirk. “Good to know.”

There’s a comfortable silence after that, the two of you settling into the soft hum of the car as it glides through the streets. You steal a glance at him, watching as he stares out the window, looking slightly more at peace now that he’s not sitting on the pavement outside of a nightclub. He catches you looking, raising an eyebrow.

“So, you’re just gonna take me home, drop me off like a stray cat?” He teases, flashing you that boyish grin again.

You tilt your head, pretending to think about it. “Depends. Do stray cats usually get rides in Rolls Royces?”

“Only the ones that get kicked out of clubs,” he fires back, and you can’t help but laugh.

This was definitely not how you expected your night to go.

***

You lean back in your seat, letting the smooth hum of the Rolls Royce fill the silence for a moment. Daniel seems more relaxed now, but there’s still something hanging in the air, something that makes you look at him again, curiosity getting the better of you.

"So," you say, turning your head slightly to study him, "where am I dropping you off? What hotel are you staying at?"

Daniel blinks, the question catching him off guard. He looks at you, then at the ceiling of the car like the answer might be written somewhere above his head. “Uh … yeah, about that …”

You narrow your eyes. “You don’t know, do you?”

He winces, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Not exactly. I mean, I know I checked into a place, obviously, but I can’t remember the name right now.”

“You can’t remember what hotel you’re staying at?” Your tone is somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

Daniel shrugs, unbothered. “It’s been a long day. Plus, there’s like, a million hotels in Singapore. They all start to blur together.”

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. “Okay, genius. So how were you planning on getting back?”

“Hadn’t thought that far ahead,” he admits, grinning lazily. Then, the grin fades, and something shifts in his expression — something a little sadder, more raw. “Honestly, even if I did know, I don’t really want to go back there.”

You frown. “Why not?”

He hesitates, eyes flicking to the window as if he can avoid answering by watching the city lights whiz by. After a long pause, he sighs and leans back against the seat, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I got dropped,” he mutters, almost too quietly for you to hear.

“Dropped?” You repeat, confused. “From what?”

“From my team,” he clarifies, his voice a little hoarse. “VCARB. They, uh, decided they didn’t want me around anymore.”

You blink, the realization hitting you like a sudden cold wave. “Oh.”

Daniel doesn’t say anything for a moment, the silence growing heavy. You can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers twitch slightly as he picks at an invisible thread on his jeans.

“I mean,” he finally continues, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “I kinda saw it coming. Just didn’t think it’d happen this fast, y’know?”

The lightheartedness from earlier is completely gone now, replaced by something darker, something heavier. You can feel the weight of it pressing down on him, the frustration and sadness barely concealed behind his crooked grin.

“I thought I had more time,” he says softly, his voice raw with vulnerability. “But I guess that’s how it goes. One day you’re on top of the world, and the next … well, you’re getting kicked out of nightclubs.”

You stay quiet, unsure of what to say. You weren’t expecting to find yourself in this situation tonight — sitting in the back of a Rolls Royce with a famous F1 driver who just lost his job. And yet, here you are, listening to him spill his heart out in the middle of the night, somewhere between Zouk and wherever he was supposed to go next.

“I just don’t want to be around them right now,” he continues, voice thick. “The team, the people … they’re all pretending to be nice, like it’s just business, but it’s not. It’s my life. My career.”

He shakes his head, letting out a soft, bitter laugh. “And now it’s over. Just like that.”

You let out a sigh, long and heavy. “So, you don’t want to go back to your hotel?”

“Not really,” Daniel mutters, slumping back in his seat.

You stare at him for a second, weighing your options. Your chauffeur is driving aimlessly through the city, waiting for your instructions, and Daniel is sitting here, lost in his own world of disappointment. He looks tired, drained, and you’re not cruel enough to leave him like this.

“Well,” you say, after a beat of silence, “I guess you’re coming with me then.”

Daniel’s head snaps up, his brows furrowing. “Wait, what?”

You glance at him, your voice firm. “You heard me. You can’t remember your hotel, you don’t want to go back even if you could, and I’m not about to leave you wandering around Singapore. So, you’re coming to my place.”

He stares at you, eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. “Are you serious?”

You roll your eyes. “Would I say it if I wasn’t?”

For a moment, he looks like he’s about to argue, but then he slumps back in his seat again, exhaling a long, tired breath. “Alright. If you’re sure.”

You nod, already turning to the front of the car. “Take us home,” you tell your chauffeur, who acknowledges the instruction with a curt nod before the car smoothly shifts direction.

Daniel leans his head against the window, eyes heavy. “Thanks,” he mumbles, his voice barely audible. “You really didn’t have to do this.”

You wave it off. “I know.”

A few minutes pass in silence, the soft sound of the tires against the road lulling both of you into a calm quiet. You glance over at Daniel again, noticing how his eyelids are drooping more and more, his head bobbing slightly as he fights to stay awake.

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” you comment, amused.

“M’not,” he protests, but his words are already slurred. “Just … resting my eyes.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sure.”

It doesn’t take long before his breathing evens out, and his head tips to the side, fully succumbing to sleep. You shake your head, watching him for a moment. He looks peaceful like this, the weight of whatever he’s been carrying lifted, if only temporarily.

“Of course,” you mutter to yourself, leaning back in your seat, “this is how my night ends.”

The car pulls up in front of your building — a sleek, modern tower in one of the city’s most exclusive neighborhoods. Your chauffeur steps out first, coming around to open the door for you. You step out gracefully, smoothing your dress, but when you look back into the car, Daniel is still out cold, slumped awkwardly in the seat.

You sigh. “This is not happening.”

Your chauffeur, ever professional, stands at attention, waiting for your next move. You consider your options for a second before glancing at him. “Help me get him inside, will you?”

The chauffeur doesn’t hesitate, nodding curtly. He moves to the other side of the car and carefully opens the door. Together, you manage to maneuver Daniel out of the backseat, his arm draped over the chauffeur’s shoulder as he leans heavily against him. Daniel stirs slightly but doesn’t wake, too deep in sleep to even register what’s happening.

The doorman, recognizing you immediately, rushes over to assist. “Miss Y/L/N,” he says, eyes flicking from you to the unconscious Daniel, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “Is everything alright?”

“It’s fine,” you say quickly, giving him a tight smile. “Just … had a long night.”

The doorman nods, not pressing further, and helps the chauffeur guide Daniel through the lobby and into the elevator. You follow behind, feeling a little ridiculous but knowing there’s no turning back now.

The elevator ride is quiet, save for Daniel’s soft breathing as he leans against the wall, still fast asleep. You glance at him, half-amused, half-exasperated. What a night.

When you finally reach your penthouse, the door slides open smoothly, and the chauffeur and doorman gently ease Daniel onto your plush couch. He sprawls out, looking even more out of place among the sleek, expensive furniture, but you can’t help but chuckle at the sight.

“Thanks,” you tell the men, who nod before excusing themselves quietly, leaving you alone with your unexpected guest.

You stand there for a moment, looking at Daniel as he sleeps soundly on your couch. His shoes are still on, one arm hanging off the side, and his mouth slightly open in a way that’s almost comical. Shaking your head, you grab a blanket from a nearby chair and drape it over him.

“Well, this is definitely not how I thought my night would go,” you mutter to yourself, standing back and crossing your arms as you look at him one last time.

With a sigh, you turn and head toward your bedroom, already mentally preparing for the chaos tomorrow is likely to bring.

***

You’re in the middle of a dream when you hear it — the unmistakable sound of your mother’s voice. Loud, sharp, and utterly out of place in the peaceful silence of your penthouse. Your eyes snap open, heart pounding in your chest as you try to piece together why in the world she would be here, at this ungodly hour.

And then you hear it. A scream.

“Who is this man?”

Your stomach drops, the reality of last night hitting you like a freight train. Daniel. He’s still here. Passed out on your couch. And now, your very traditional mother is standing in your living room, probably about to have a heart attack.

You scramble out of bed, nearly tripping over yourself as you rush toward the living room. You can already hear her ranting, a mix of shock and outrage in her voice, and you don’t even have time to think before you’re standing in front of her, trying to calm the situation down.

“Mum!” You blurt out, trying to sound casual, like this isn’t the absolute disaster it clearly is. “What are you doing here?”

Your mother’s eyes are wide, her perfectly manicured hand pressed dramatically against her chest as she stares down at Daniel, who’s still blissfully unconscious, mouth slightly open, one arm dangling off the edge of the couch.

“I could ask you the same thing!” She snaps, her voice rising with every word. “Why is there a man sleeping in your living room? And why-” she leans in, eyes narrowing, “does he look like he’s been out drinking all night?”

Your mind races, panic bubbling up as you try to figure out what to say, what kind of excuse would possibly explain this. And then, without even thinking, the words tumble out of your mouth.

“He’s … he’s my boyfriend.”

The second the lie leaves your lips, you know it’s a terrible idea. But it’s too late now. Your mother freezes, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as she looks between you and Daniel. “Your … boyfriend?” She repeats, her tone incredulous.

You nod, forcing a tight smile, praying that Daniel stays asleep long enough for you to get through this. “Yes. My boyfriend.”

Your mother looks like she’s about to faint. “And you didn’t tell me? You-”

“I was going to!” you interrupt quickly. “But it’s … it’s new. Very new. I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure.”

She crosses her arms, still clearly not buying it. “And this is how you introduce him to your mother? Drunk and passed out in your living room?”

“He’s not drunk,” you say quickly, even though that’s obviously a lie. “He’s … uh, just really tired. He’s been going through a lot lately.”

At that moment, you hear a groan from the couch. You glance over, heart sinking as Daniel stirs, slowly blinking awake. His face is pale, and the second he opens his eyes, you can see the hangover written all over him.

“Wh-” Daniel starts, voice groggy as he sits up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Where …”

Your mother’s eyes widen, and she turns to you, her expression one of absolute horror. “This is him?” She whispers, like you’ve just committed some kind of unspeakable crime.

You give her a weak smile. “Yes. Mum, this is Daniel.”

Daniel’s head snaps up at the sound of his name, his bleary eyes trying to make sense of the situation. He looks at you, confused, and you give him a pointed look, willing him to just go along with it.

"Daniel," you say through gritted teeth, “this is my mother. Remember? I told you she might stop by.”

Daniel blinks at you, his brow furrowed in confusion. It takes a second, but you can practically see the gears turning in his brain as he tries to process what’s happening. Finally, he nods slowly, trying to catch up. “Right. Your mum. Uh, hi.”

Your mother stares at him, unimpressed. “Are you alright?” She asks, her voice cold and judgmental.

Daniel, still clearly half-asleep and in the throes of a wicked hangover, gives her a shaky smile. “Yeah, just … didn’t sleep great,” he mumbles, leaning back into the couch.

You wince internally, but keep up the act. “He’s been working so hard lately,” you say quickly, hoping to smooth things over. “With his job and everything.”

Your mother’s eyes narrow further. “And what does he do, exactly?”

Daniel glances at you, panic flickering in his eyes, clearly not prepared for this interrogation. You jump in before he can make things worse.

“He’s … in sports,” you say vaguely. “He’s an athlete.”

Your mother’s gaze doesn’t soften in the slightest. “What kind of athlete?”

You feel Daniel’s eyes on you, pleading silently for help. “Formula 1,” you say quickly. “He’s a Formula 1 driver.”

Your mother blinks, taken aback by this revelation. “A race car driver?” She repeats, like it’s the most absurd thing she’s ever heard. “That’s … interesting.”

You can tell she’s not impressed, but at least it’s bought you a little time. You just need to get through this without her prying too much further.

“I promise, Mum, Daniel’s a good guy,” you say, trying to sound convincing. “He just … had a rough night. That’s all.”

Your mother’s gaze flicks between you and Daniel, suspicion still heavy in her eyes. “And where did he sleep?”

You freeze. “Uh …”

Daniel, finally catching on to what’s happening, sits up a little straighter. “I slept here,” he says quickly, gesturing to the couch. “On the couch. I didn’t … you know …”

He trails off, looking at your mother awkwardly, but the message is clear.

Your mother’s eyebrows shoot up, surprised by his admission. “You didn’t share a bed?”

You shake your head vigorously. “No, Mum. We didn’t share a bed. We’re not married, remember?”

For the first time since she walked in, your mother seems to relax a little, her rigid posture softening just a bit. “Well,” she says, sounding somewhat mollified, “at least he has some morals.”

You breathe a silent sigh of relief, nodding along. “Exactly. Daniel’s … very respectful.”

Daniel gives a small, awkward smile, clearly still trying to wrap his head around the situation. “Uh, yeah. Very … respectful.”

Your mother studies him for a moment longer, then nods, satisfied. “Well, I suppose it could be worse.”

You almost laugh at that but manage to keep a straight face. “Right.”

There’s a brief pause as your mother smooths down her dress, glancing around the penthouse like she’s looking for something to criticize. Then, her eyes land back on you, and she smiles — one of those deceptively sweet smiles that always makes you nervous.

“Well,” she says brightly, “since I’m here, I’d love to get to know Daniel a bit better. Why don’t you two join me for dinner tonight?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Dinner? Tonight?”

Your mother nods, clearly not taking no for an answer. “Yes. I think it’s high time I meet this boyfriend of yours properly.”

You glance at Daniel, who’s looking at you with wide, slightly panicked eyes. You can tell he’s regretting every decision that led him to this moment, but there’s no way out now. You’re both trapped.

“Uh, sure,” you say weakly. “We’d love to.”

Your mother beams, clearly pleased with herself. “Wonderful! I’ll have my assistant call to make the reservation. Seven o’clock sharp. You know where. Don’t be late.”

Before you can respond, she’s already turning on her heel, heading toward the door with a satisfied smile on her face. “I’ll see you both tonight,” she calls over her shoulder as she exits, leaving you standing there in stunned silence.

The door clicks shut, and the room is suddenly, blissfully quiet.

You turn to Daniel, who’s staring at you, still half-dazed from sleep and now fully confused about what just happened.

“Boyfriend?” He croaks, his voice rough from the hangover.

You let out a long, exasperated sigh, rubbing your temples. “I panicked.”

He groans, flopping back onto the couch. “Dinner with your mum? Really?”

“Yes. And if you don’t play along, I’m pretty sure she’ll disown me.”

Daniel chuckles weakly, rubbing his temples. “Great. Just great.”

You stare at him for a moment, then flop down next to him on the couch, letting your head fall back against the cushions. “This is a disaster.”

“Eh,” Daniel mutters, eyes closed. “Could be worse.”

You shoot him a look. “How?”

He cracks one eye open, grinning. “At least I didn’t throw up on her.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “That’s not funny.”

But when you look up, you can’t help but laugh, because as ridiculous as this entire situation is, somehow, in the madness of it all, you know tonight is going to be even worse.

***

Dinner is already awkward. You can feel the tension every time your mother glances at Daniel, her polite smile not quite reaching her eyes. It’s a small, exclusive restaurant, the kind of place where the waiters wear gloves, and the courses are tiny but outrageously expensive. The chef is renowned for his traditional yet experimental take on Singaporean cuisine, which is perfect because your mother insists on a display of sophistication when it comes to hosting. Unfortunately, that also means the pressure on Daniel is palpable.

Daniel sits across from you, trying to look comfortable, though his hand is constantly fiddling with his napkin under the table. Your mother, seated beside him, is maintaining her usual air of grace, but you can see she’s sizing him up, scrutinizing every bite, every word. And you … you’re just trying to survive.

“So, Daniel,” your mother begins, swirling her wine like a seasoned critic, “what are your long-term plans? With your career, I mean.”

Daniel freezes with his fork halfway to his mouth, the question clearly catching him off guard. He clears his throat, scrambling to find an answer that sounds impressive. “Well, uh, things are a bit … in flux right now,” he says, offering a weak smile. “But I’m working on it.”

Your mother arches an eyebrow. “In flux? That doesn’t sound very … stable.”

You kick Daniel lightly under the table, silently willing him to come up with something better than “in flux.” He glances at you for help, but you just widen your eyes, urging him to recover.

“Yeah, well,” Daniel says, trying to salvage the conversation, “I’ve been racing for a while, you know? Formula 1. It’s a pretty high-pressure job, so … I’m considering my next move carefully.”

Your mother makes a noncommittal hum, clearly unimpressed. “I see.”

You want to sink into the floor.

“I’m going to excuse myself for a moment,” you say quickly, standing from the table. “I’ll be right back.”

Daniel gives you a look that screams *don’t leave me alone with her*, but there’s no way around it. You shoot him an apologetic smile before making your way toward the restroom, leaving him to fend for himself.

As soon as you’re gone, the silence at the table becomes almost deafening. Daniel shifts uncomfortably in his seat, glancing around the room as if he’s suddenly forgotten how to act normal. He’s about to reach for his water glass when he notices your mother watching him closely.

“So,” she says, her tone unnervingly calm, “Daniel.”

He straightens up, unsure if he should be relieved or terrified that she’s addressing him directly. “Yes, ma’am?”

“I think we should speak candidly, don’t you?” She says, her voice as smooth as silk but with an edge that makes Daniel’s skin crawl. She reaches into her handbag, and Daniel feels his stomach lurch with nerves. What’s she going to pull out? A contract? Some kind of questionnaire?

What she pulls out, however, is much worse.

It’s a small, velvet box. A ring box.

Daniel’s heart stops. His eyes widen as he stares at the box, his mind spinning, trying to make sense of what’s happening.

Your mother places the box delicately in front of him, her expression serene, like she’s offering him a cup of tea rather than a proposal-sized bombshell. “I’ve been waiting for Y/N to bring home a boy for quite some time,” she says, her voice soft but pointed. “And now that she has … well, I can’t let this moment pass.”

Daniel opens and closes his mouth, but no words come out. He’s too stunned to respond, completely blindsided by this sudden turn of events.

Your mother’s eyes gleam, and she leans in slightly, lowering her voice as if she’s sharing a secret. “Of course, I would have preferred if you were Singaporean,” she continues, her tone just a touch sharper, “but I’m not getting any younger, and I want grandchildren. So, we can’t be picky, can we?”

Daniel’s mind goes blank. He tries to form a coherent thought, a response, anything, but all that comes out is a strangled, “I … uh …”

Your mother regards him with the same calm, calculating gaze she’s had since the start of dinner, as though this entire interaction is completely normal. “You’ll do,” she says simply, and there’s a finality in her tone that makes it clear this isn’t up for debate.

Daniel stares at the ring box, his brain short-circuiting. Is this really happening? He glances around the restaurant, half-expecting someone to jump out and tell him it’s all some elaborate prank. But no one does. It’s just him, your mother, and the heavy weight of that velvet box sitting between them.

He’s completely out of his depth. He can’t even think of how to respond to your mother’s words, let alone the fact that she’s just essentially handed him an engagement ring.

“I-” he starts again, but his throat is dry, and nothing coherent follows.

“Daniel,” she interrupts smoothly, her gaze sharpening. “You’re a good man, I can tell. And you’re very … respectful.” The word drips with meaning, making Daniel shift in his seat.

Before he can stammer out anything in return, the restroom door swings open, and you reappear, walking back toward the table, blissfully unaware of the bomb that’s just been dropped.

Daniel panics. His mind races as you approach, and without thinking, he snatches the ring box off the table, slipping it into his jacket pocket in one swift movement. His heart is racing, his palms suddenly sweaty, but he tries to keep his expression neutral.

“Everything alright?” You ask, sliding back into your seat, oblivious to the tension radiating from both Daniel and your mother.

Daniel clears his throat, forcing a tight smile. “Yep. All good.”

Your mother smiles pleasantly, folding her hands in her lap. “Oh, we were just having a lovely little chat.”

You look between them suspiciously, but there’s no sign of the chaos that just occurred. Daniel’s poker face is impressive, but you can sense something is off. You raise an eyebrow at him, and he just gives you a strained smile in return.

The rest of dinner is a blur. You try to focus on the conversation, but your mother seems to be on her best behavior, keeping things light and superficial. Daniel is unusually quiet, nodding along and making polite comments when necessary, but there’s something distant about him, like he’s somewhere else entirely.

By the time dessert arrives, you can’t shake the feeling that something happened while you were gone. But Daniel isn’t saying a word, and your mother’s serene expression betrays nothing.

As the waiter clears the last of the plates, your mother dabs at her mouth with her napkin, looking between the two of you with an air of satisfaction. “Well,” she says, standing from the table, “this has been lovely. I’m so glad we could all spend this time together.”

You force a smile, standing as well. “Yes, of course. It was … lovely.”

Daniel stands too, his movements a little stiffer than usual, like he’s trying to keep his hands from shaking. “Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Y/L/N,” he says politely, though his voice is a bit strained.

Your mother gives him one last, long look, then smiles warmly. “Oh, Daniel, you’re always welcome. Anytime.”

With that, she gathers her things and heads for the door, leaving you and Daniel standing there in stunned silence. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, turning to Daniel.

“Well, that wasn’t too bad, was it?” You ask, trying to lighten the mood.

Daniel gives a weak chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah … not too bad.”

You narrow your eyes at him, picking up on the odd tone in his voice. “Are you sure? You’ve been acting weird since I got back to the table.”

He blinks, his hand instinctively brushing the pocket where the ring box is hidden. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine. Just … full. Really full.”

You raise an eyebrow, not entirely convinced, but decide to let it slide for now. “Alright. If you say so.”

As you both head for the door, Daniel’s mind is still racing, the weight of the ring box burning a hole in his pocket. He has no idea what to do with it, or what your mother expects from him, but one thing is for sure — he’s in way over his head.

And he’s not sure how much longer he can keep pretending.

***

Back at your penthouse, the atmosphere feels … tense. Not the sort of charged tension from earlier, but something more fragile, awkward. The kind that makes everything feel a bit too quiet, like the air is too thick with things unsaid. You and Daniel are sitting on opposite ends of the plush couch in your living room. It’s not that big of a couch, but the distance feels enormous.

Daniel is fidgeting, running a hand through his hair, tapping his fingers on his knee. You’re sitting with your arms crossed, staring at him, waiting. But waiting for what, exactly? Neither of you knows. The silence stretches between you both, and it’s unbearable. Every breath feels louder than it should.

“Uh …” Daniel finally starts, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly trying to find something — anything — to say. But nothing seems right, so he just ends up staring back at you, eyes darting around like he’s looking for a way out.

You, on the other hand, are unusually still, your eyes narrowed at him. It’s like you’re waiting for him to make the first move, but he’s not catching on. Not yet.

Daniel swallows hard, and after a moment of hesitation, his hand moves toward his jacket pocket. Your eyes flick to the motion, and his fingers tremble slightly as they close around the velvet box, pulling it out with an awkward kind of determination, as if it’s weighing him down more than anything. He holds it for a second, staring at it like it’s a puzzle he can’t solve.

Then, with a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, he opens the box.

The soft click of the hinge seems impossibly loud in the room, and for a moment, all you can do is stare. The ring glimmers under the soft lighting, catching the faintest reflection of the overhead chandelier. It’s not just any ring. You recognize it immediately.

And then, as if someone flipped a switch, you start laughing.

Daniel’s eyes snap to you in confusion, his brows furrowing. “What … what’s so funny?”

You’re still giggling, pressing your hand to your mouth to muffle the sound, but it doesn’t work. The laughter bubbles up uncontrollably, and Daniel looks like he’s caught between being relieved that you’re not mad and completely baffled by your reaction.

“You-” you manage between breaths, “That ring … that’s my grandmother’s. Oh my God, she’s really lost it.”

Daniel blinks, glancing down at the ring again, his confusion only deepening. “Wait, what?”

“My mother,” you say, wiping a tear from your eye, “She must be really desperate to get me married off if she’s giving out my grandmother’s ring to the first guy I bring to dinner. I can’t believe it.”

Daniel stares at you for a second, then back at the ring. “This is your … grandmother’s?” His voice is shaky, like the absurdity of the situation is just now hitting him.

You nod, biting your lip to stifle another laugh. “Yup. She always said it was meant for the man I’d marry one day. Guess she couldn’t wait any longer.”

Daniel’s face goes through a range of emotions — shock, embarrassment, and finally, something like disbelief. “I … I don’t even know what to say.”

You snicker again, leaning back against the couch and crossing your arms. “I think the bigger question here is — why didn’t you say anything to me? Did you just plan on pocketing the ring and hoping I wouldn’t notice?”

Daniel shifts uncomfortably, his cheeks flushing. “I — I didn’t know what to do. Your mom just … handed it to me. I mean, what was I supposed to say? ‘No, thank you, ma’am, I’m not ready for an arranged marriage just yet?’”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “That might’ve been a good start.”

He opens his mouth to protest, then closes it again, clearly struggling to find a way out of this. Finally, he lets out a defeated sigh and leans back, running both hands through his hair. “This is insane.”

“You think?” You quip, smirking.

Daniel’s gaze drops to the ring again, and there’s a beat of silence before you speak up, this time your tone more playful than mocking. “Well,” you say, drawing out the word, “if you’re gonna propose, you should at least get on one knee. You know, for tradition’s sake.”

Daniel’s head snaps up, eyes wide in disbelief. “What?”

You laugh again, your teasing smile growing. “I mean, come on. If we’re going through with this charade, you might as well go all in. Get down on one knee, Ricciardo.”

He blinks at you, completely at a loss for words. “You��re not serious.”

“Why not?” You shoot back, still grinning. “What’s stopping you? You don’t have a job anymore, so it’s not like you have much else going on. You could always be my trophy husband.”

There’s a flicker of something in Daniel’s eyes — part shock, part amusement, and maybe just a little bit of something else. “Trophy husband?” He echoes, his voice incredulous.

You shrug, leaning forward and resting your chin on your hand, as if the idea were the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah. I mean, think about it. You wouldn’t have to work, I’d take care of you. You could just … exist. Isn’t that every guy’s dream?”

Daniel laughs — an actual laugh this time, though it’s tinged with disbelief. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

You grin. “Maybe. But I’m also not wrong.”

For a moment, the room is quiet again, but it’s not the awkward silence from before. This is something lighter, filled with the remnants of laughter and the weight of an unspoken understanding. Daniel is still holding the ring box, his thumb absently running over the velvet surface as he processes everything that’s just happened.

And then, because clearly, the universe hasn’t thrown enough chaos at him lately, Daniel does something that surprises both of you.

He nods.

It’s a small, hesitant nod at first, like he’s not even sure he’s agreeing to anything real. But then he meets your gaze, and there’s a flicker of something — maybe exhaustion, maybe delirium, maybe just the sheer absurdity of it all — and he nods again. This time, more certain.

“Alright,” he says quietly, still staring at the ring. “Okay.”

You freeze, blinking at him in surprise. “Wait … what?”

Daniel looks up at you, his expression unreadable but calm. “I said … okay. Let’s do it.”

For the first time tonight, you’re the one who’s caught off guard. “You’re joking.”

He shakes his head slowly, his lips quirking into a half-smile. “Nope.”

You sit up straighter, suddenly unsure whether you’re still in the middle of some elaborate joke or if the reality of the past few days has finally broken Daniel’s sense of logic. “You — wait, seriously? You’d marry me?”

Daniel shrugs, though there’s a glimmer of humor in his eyes now. “I mean, like you said … I don’t have a job anymore. And hey, being a trophy husband doesn’t sound half bad.”

You stare at him, searching his face for any sign of a punchline. But the longer you look, the more you realize he’s not kidding. He’s serious. Or as serious as someone in his situation can be.

A beat passes. Then another.

And suddenly, you burst into laughter again.

“God, you’re insane,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief. “This whole thing is insane.”

Daniel grins, leaning back into the couch with a relieved sigh, as if your laughter has lifted the tension from the room entirely. “Welcome to my life.”

You shake your head again, still chuckling, though there’s something warm and strange growing in your chest. “I can’t believe I’m even considering this.”

Daniel glances at the ring one more time before closing the box with a soft click and slipping it back into his pocket. “Hey,” he says, his voice softer now, “if nothing else, at least we’ll give your mother something to talk about at her next dinner party.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Oh, she’ll have a field day.”

For a moment, the two of you just sit there, side by side on the couch, the absurdity of the night finally settling over you both. It’s ridiculous, completely irrational, and yet somehow, in this moment, it feels … right.

Daniel nudges you with his elbow, breaking the silence. “So … when’s the wedding?”

You groan, but you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Daniel chuckles, leaning back into the cushions, finally starting to relax. “Yeah. One step at a time.”

But even as you say it, you can’t shake the feeling that this strange, accidental engagement is just the beginning of something even more complicated.

And maybe you’re okay with that.

***

You come home the next afternoon, practically skipping into the penthouse, your eyes sparkling with excitement. The energy around you is contagious, and even Daniel, who’s lounging on the couch with a glass of water — probably trying to recover from the whirlwind of the past few days — can’t help but smile at your entrance.

“You look … happy,” Daniel says, a slow grin spreading across his face. “What did I miss?”

You clap your hands together like an excited child, barely containing your glee. “I got you something.”

Daniel’s smile falters for a moment, confusion flickering in his eyes. “Wait, what? You got me something?” He straightens up on the couch, his brows furrowing. “You really didn’t have to do that-”

“Shush.” You wave a hand at him, cutting him off before he can protest further. “I wanted to. Trust me, you’re going to love it.”

Daniel chuckles, though there’s a nervous edge to his voice. “Alright, alright. What is it then? A new watch? Shoes?” He pauses, glancing at you skeptically. “Wait, is it another one of your mum’s rings?”

You shake your head, grinning like you’ve just pulled off the best surprise in the world. “Nope. Guess again.”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “Okay … well, whatever it is, I’m sure it’s great but-”

“I bought Red Bull Racing.”

For a second, it’s like the words don’t register. Daniel blinks at you, his expression blank as his brain tries to process what you just said. There’s a long beat of silence before his mouth finally drops open in disbelief.

“You … you what?”

Your grin widens. “I bought Red Bull Racing. You know, the Formula 1 team? Your old team?” You say it so casually, like you’re talking about picking up a pair of shoes or booking a vacation.

Daniel’s jaw is still hanging open. “You — wait — are you serious?” He’s half laughing now, like he’s trying to figure out if this is some kind of joke. But the look on your face — pure, unfiltered joy — tells him you’re very, very serious.

“Yup!” You say, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis. “Apparently, if you offer double what a team is worth, the owners tend to sell pretty quickly. Who knew?”

Daniel stares at you, completely slack-jawed, like you’ve just told him you bought a small country. “You … bought Red Bull Racing?” His voice cracks a little as he repeats it, as if saying it out loud will make it more real.

You nod, your smile never faltering. “Yup. Just closed the deal this morning.”

“Jesus Christ.” Daniel runs a hand through his hair, looking like he might faint. “Are you insane?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit with a playful shrug. “But it’s an engagement gift, you know? Gotta keep things exciting.”

Daniel lets out a breathless laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “I … I don’t even know what to say. That’s — this is crazy.”

“I know,” you say, beaming. “But crazy is kind of our thing, isn’t it?”

He laughs again, though it’s still a little shaky. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

There’s a pause as Daniel tries to wrap his head around the fact that you, his new fiancée, just bought one of the most successful teams in Formula 1. He stares at you for a moment longer, then blinks, rubbing his temples like he’s getting a headache. “I … I don’t even know where to start. What does that even mean? You’re gonna be the new team owner?”

“Pretty much,” you say, like it’s no big deal. “And I’m planning to do a bit of restructuring. You know, make some changes, shake things up.”

Daniel gives you a skeptical look. “Restructuring? What kind of changes?”

“Well …” You tap your chin, pretending to think about it. “First of all, I figured I’d ask if there’s anyone you’d like me to keep around. I mean, it’s your engagement gift, after all. I want you to be happy with the team.”

Daniel snorts, shaking his head. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”

You lean closer, your eyes gleaming mischievously. “And I assume you’ll want me to keep your boyfriend, right?”

Daniel freezes, blinking at you in confusion. “My … boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” you say, deadpan. “Max.”

Daniel nearly chokes. “Wait — what?”

You burst out laughing, unable to keep a straight face any longer. “I’m talking about Max Verstappen! Don’t act so surprised.”

Daniel’s face flushes a deep red, and he shakes his head, exasperated. “We’re not — he’s not my — Jesus, you’re impossible.”

You pat his head, still laughing. “Sure, he’s not. Whatever you say.”

Daniel groans, covering his face with his hands. “Oh my God.”

You sit back, grinning at him. “So, do you want me to keep him or not?”

He lowers his hands, shooting you a look that’s half amused, half irritated. “Obviously, you keep him. He’s the best driver on the grid.”

You nod, pretending to jot down notes in the air. “Okay, so keep Max. Got it.”

Daniel leans back against the couch, staring at you like he still can’t believe this is real. “I can’t believe you just bought a Formula 1 team.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner,” you say with a grin.

Daniel laughs, though it’s tinged with disbelief. “And you’re just … going to be the boss now?”

You shrug. “Why not? It’s not like I haven’t run a business before. Plus, how hard can it be to manage a Formula 1 team?”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You do realize you’ll be dealing with, like, a whole bunch of egos and drama, right? It’s not just about racing. There’s politics, sponsorships, technical regulations …”

You wave a hand dismissively. “Details, details. I’ll figure it out.”

Daniel shakes his head, still grinning. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And that’s why you like me,” you quip, flashing him a playful wink.

Daniel’s smile softens, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something in his eyes that you can’t quite place. But then he shakes his head again, chuckling. “Yeah, something like that.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, and Daniel’s gaze drifts back to the ring box still sitting on the coffee table between you. It feels surreal — like the last few days have been one long, crazy dream that neither of you can wake up from. But somehow, despite all the madness, there’s a strange sense of peace settling over the room.

Finally, Daniel breaks the silence with a quiet laugh. “So … when do you get to meet the team?”

You grin. “Soon enough. I’ll introduce you as my fiancé. It’ll be fun to see the look on everyone’s faces.”

Daniel snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll go over well.”

“Oh, come on,” you tease. “You’ll love it. Don’t you like being the center of attention?”

He shoots you a playful glare. “I’m starting to regret this engagement.”

You laugh, leaning back into the couch. “Too late. You’re stuck with me now.”

Daniel chuckles, but there’s a warmth in his eyes as he looks at you. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

***

You and Daniel are curled up together on the plush couch, nestled under a thick blanket, a pint of ice cream balanced between the two of you. The glow of the TV flickers across the room as Crazy Rich Asians plays in the background, the glamorous scenes of Singapore flashing on the screen. You scoop a spoonful of ice cream and pop it into your mouth, your eyes glued to the over-the-top depiction of high society that, to you, feels more like a parody than reality.

“I mean, come on,” you mutter around a mouthful of ice cream, shaking your head. “That’s not how any of this works.”

Daniel glances at you, one eyebrow raised in amusement. “What do you mean? It looks pretty fancy to me.”

You roll your eyes, waving your spoon toward the screen. “Yeah, because all of us crazy rich Asians are just constantly jetting off to private islands in the middle of the week. And, of course, we throw dramatic, lavish parties for every minor inconvenience.”

Daniel grins, leaning back against the couch as he scoops up some ice cream. “I dunno, the whole secret wedding dress thing seemed pretty realistic to me.”

You nudge him playfully with your elbow, laughing. “Please. If anything, that’s understated.”

Daniel chuckles, shaking his head. “Alright, alright, so maybe Hollywood doesn’t exactly nail the rich lifestyle. But it’s entertaining.”

“Entertaining?” You snort, raising an eyebrow. “It’s borderline satire. Half the time, I’m watching these movies like, ‘Are you serious? Who even does that?’”

Daniel laughs again, clearly enjoying your commentary more than the actual movie. “Okay, but admit it, the wedding scene was pretty epic.”

You sigh dramatically. “Fine, I’ll give them that one. The water running down the aisle was a nice touch.”

“See? Even you have to admit there’s some good stuff in there,” Daniel says with a grin, licking his spoon.

You lean back against the couch, settling more comfortably into Daniel’s side as the movie continues to play. The ice cream between you starts to melt slightly, but neither of you seem to care, too caught up in the comfort of the moment. Your head rests on Daniel’s shoulder, and his arm is loosely draped around you.

There’s a comfortable silence between you two for a few minutes, the movie providing a soft background noise as you both watch absently. Then, without looking away from the screen, you break the silence with a casual question.

“Hey, so … do you want to drive for Red Bull next year?”

The question seems to catch Daniel off guard. His hand, mid-way to another scoop of ice cream, freezes in the air. He turns his head slightly to look at you, eyebrows furrowed in thought. He doesn’t say anything at first, and the silence stretches out long enough for you to glance up at him, wondering why he’s taking so long to respond.

“Daniel?” You prompt softly.

He pauses the movie, the room suddenly quiet without the chatter of characters and dramatic music. His face is serious now, a stark contrast to the playful mood from moments before. He places the spoon down in the pint and leans back, exhaling a long breath.

“I don’t know,” he finally says, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

You blink at him, confused. “You don’t know? What do you mean?”

Daniel rubs a hand over his face, looking down at his lap as if the answer is written there somewhere. “I mean, I don’t know if … if I deserve it. That seat.”

There’s a heavy pause as you process his words. The casualness of the evening suddenly feels distant, replaced by something more serious, more vulnerable. You turn slightly, facing him more directly now, your hand reaching out to rest on his knee.

“Why would you say that?” You ask, your voice quiet but firm.

Daniel looks up at you, his expression pained. “I’ve been dropped twice now. McLaren, VCARB … And, honestly, I didn’t do as well as I wanted. As well as they wanted. What if I’m just not cut out for it anymore? Maybe the sport’s moved on, and I haven’t.”

You frown, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s not true. You’re still an incredible driver.”

Daniel lets out a bitter laugh, though there’s no humor in it. “Incredible? You’ve seen the results. I’m nowhere near where I used to be. And Max? He’s on another level. It’s his team now.”

“Okay, first of all,” you say, your tone shifting into something more assertive, “don’t compare yourself to Max. You’re both amazing in your own ways. And second, this isn’t about what they want, Daniel. It’s about what you want.”

Daniel doesn’t respond right away. He just stares at the frozen image on the TV screen, lost in his thoughts. His jaw is tense, and you can tell he’s grappling with something deeper, something that’s been weighing on him for a long time.

You squeeze his knee gently, your voice softening. “You’ve still got it, Daniel. I know you do. And so does everyone else.”

He glances at you, his eyes searching your face like he’s trying to find some kind of reassurance in your words. “But what if … what if I can’t get back to where I was? What if I’m just holding onto something that’s not there anymore?”

“You’re not,” you say firmly, not missing a beat. “You’ve had a rough few seasons, sure. But that doesn’t mean you’ve lost it. It just means you’ve had setbacks. And if anyone knows how to bounce back, it’s you.”

Daniel still looks unsure, and you can tell there’s a part of him that’s scared — scared of failing again, scared of not living up to the expectations that have been placed on him, both by himself and by others.

You lean in closer, your voice gentle but insistent. “Daniel, you’re one of the best drivers in the world. You’ve proved that time and time again. Red Bull wouldn’t have taken you back if they didn’t believe in you. And I wouldn’t have bought the damn team if I didn’t believe in you either.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of Daniel’s lips at that, though it’s fleeting. He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply. “I just … I don’t know if I’m ready to go back. I don’t know if I can handle it if things go wrong again.”

You nod slowly, understanding the fear behind his words. It’s not just about driving. It’s about the pressure, the weight of expectation, the fear of failure.

“I get that,” you say softly. “But you can’t let fear stop you from doing what you love. You’ve been through a lot, I know. But that doesn’t mean it’s over. You have so much more left to give. And I’ll be there with you, every step of the way.”

Daniel meets your gaze, his eyes softening at your words. For a moment, the vulnerability in his expression is raw, unguarded. Then he reaches out, taking your hand in his, giving it a small squeeze.

“You really think I can do it?” He asks quietly.

You smile, squeezing his hand back. “I know you can.”

Daniel lets out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly as some of the tension seems to drain from him. He looks at you for a long moment, then nods, as if finally coming to terms with something inside himself.

“Alright,” he says, his voice a little steadier now. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” you say with a soft smile.

He leans back into the couch, and you both settle into a comfortable silence again, the tension from earlier slowly fading away. You reach for the remote and unpause the movie, but neither of you are really paying attention to it anymore. Instead, you both sit there, sharing the ice cream, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air but somehow lighter now.

***

The evening is quiet, the city’s hum muted behind the large windows of your penthouse. The movie’s credits are rolling, but neither you nor Daniel has made a move to turn off the TV. Instead, you both sit there, wrapped up in the soft blanket, the nearly empty pint of ice cream abandoned on the coffee table. There’s a sense of calm in the air, but underneath it, you can feel something unspoken, simmering just below the surface.

You glance at Daniel, who’s leaning back into the couch, his gaze distant. He’s still processing, you can tell — about Red Bull, about everything that’s been thrown at him lately. The weight of it all seems heavier in the silence.

After a long moment, you shift slightly, turning your body to face him more directly. “Daniel,” you say softly, your voice breaking the quiet.

He blinks, coming back to the present, and looks at you with a small, tired smile. “Yeah?”

“You’ve said something a lot that I keep thinking about,” you begin, carefully choosing your words. “The whole ‘enjoy the butterflies’ thing. I’ve heard you say it in interviews, but I don’t think I ever really understood what you meant by it.”

Daniel’s smile falters a bit, and he looks away, his expression growing thoughtful. He doesn’t say anything at first, and you can see he’s retreating into his thoughts again, the way he does when he’s trying to figure out how to articulate something that matters to him.

You reach out, placing a hand gently on his arm, coaxing him back to the conversation. “What does it really mean to you? Enjoy the butterflies?”

Daniel takes a deep breath, his fingers fiddling with the edge of the blanket. “It’s … it’s kinda hard to explain,” he says slowly, his accent thicker when he’s being reflective. “It’s not just about racing, you know? It’s more about the feeling — the nerves, the excitement, the anticipation. All those little moments that make your stomach flip.”

He pauses, glancing at you as if gauging whether you’re following. You nod, encouraging him to continue.

“I think,” he says, his voice quieter now, “for the longest time, I used to hate that feeling. The butterflies. It always made me feel … unsure. Like, am I good enough? Am I ready? Every time I’d get in the car, no matter how many times I’d done it before, I’d still feel that little twinge of anxiety. And for a while, I thought it was a bad thing.”

You listen intently, your eyes never leaving his face as he speaks. There’s something raw and real in his words, a vulnerability that you don’t often see in him.

“But then, I don’t know,” he continues, “at some point, I started to see it differently. Like, maybe those butterflies aren’t a sign of weakness. Maybe they’re a sign that you’re doing something that matters. That you’re alive. That you care.”

You nod slowly, your hand still resting on his arm. “That makes sense.”

Daniel meets your gaze again, his eyes softening. “Yeah. So now, when I feel the butterflies, I try to embrace it, you know? Instead of fighting it. Because if you’re not nervous, if you don’t feel anything, then what’s the point?”

You lean back slightly, absorbing his words. There’s a quiet wisdom in what he’s saying, a reminder that life’s most meaningful moments are often the ones that scare us the most. You think about how that applies to you — not just in your relationship with Daniel, but in everything. The choices you’ve made, the risks you’ve taken, the moments when you’ve doubted yourself. Maybe those butterflies are a part of the journey, too.

“I get that,” you say softly, nodding. “But … do you still feel them? After all this time?”

Daniel smiles, but it’s tinged with something bittersweet. “Every single time.”

You look at him for a long moment, the weight of his honesty settling between you. There’s something comforting in knowing that even someone like Daniel — someone who’s faced so many high-pressure moments, who’s been at the top of his game — still feels that same uncertainty, that same flutter of nerves.

“But now,” he adds, his voice softening even more, “I think the butterflies aren’t just about fear. They’re about excitement, too. Like, yeah, maybe I’m nervous, but I’m also excited because it means I still care. I still love what I do, even when it’s hard.”

You smile gently, your hand giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. “That’s beautiful, Daniel. Really.”

He chuckles lightly, looking almost embarrassed by the compliment. “I don’t know about beautiful, but it helps me get through the tough days.”

There’s a pause, and you can feel the conversation shifting into something deeper, something more personal. You take a breath, feeling the moment settling between you like a quiet pulse.

“Do you ever get tired of it, though?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. “The butterflies, the pressure, the weight of it all?”

Daniel tilts his head back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. He doesn’t answer right away, but when he does, his voice is tinged with a kind of quiet resignation. “Yeah. Sometimes. Sometimes it feels like too much, like it’s all building up and I just … don’t know how to keep going.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. You’ve seen Daniel at his best, but you’ve also seen him at his lowest. The moments when he’s struggled, when he’s doubted himself. And yet, through it all, he’s always managed to push through. To keep going.

“But,” he continues after a beat, his voice soft but steady, “those moments don’t last forever. And when they pass, when I’m back in the car, or when I’ve crossed the finish line, it’s like … I remember why I do it. Why I love it.”

You watch him closely, your heart swelling with both admiration and empathy. “You’re stronger than you think, Daniel.”

He glances at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just stubborn.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I think it’s a little bit of both.”

Daniel grins at that, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He shifts on the couch, turning more toward you, his hand reaching out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. There’s a softness in his touch, a quiet intimacy that makes your heart skip a beat.

“You know,” he says quietly, “you’ve got your own butterflies too. I’ve seen them.”

You raise an eyebrow, slightly surprised. “Oh, really?”

Daniel nods, his eyes locking onto yours. “Yeah. Whenever you’re about to make a big decision or when something’s stressing you out. You get this look in your eyes, like you’re bracing yourself for something.”

You blink, taken aback by his observation. “I didn’t realize you noticed.”

He smiles gently. “I notice a lot about you.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence again, the weight of the conversation hanging in the air like a shared secret. You can feel your heart beating a little faster, the warmth of Daniel’s words wrapping around you like a blanket.

“Do you ever wish the butterflies would go away?” You ask after a moment, your voice soft.

Daniel shakes his head slowly. “No. I don’t think I do. Because if they did, that would mean I’ve stopped caring. And I don’t ever want to stop caring.”

You nod, understanding now in a way you didn’t before. The butterflies aren’t something to fear — they’re a reminder that you’re alive, that you’re still passionate, that you’re still fighting for what matters.

You smile softly, leaning in closer to him. “I think I’ll try to enjoy the butterflies a little more.”

Daniel smiles back, his hand gently resting on your cheek. “Good. You should.”

And for the first time in a long time, you feel a sense of peace settle over you — a quiet understanding that, no matter what happens next, you’ll face it with open hearts and, yes, even a few butterflies.

***

The Red Bull Racing factory is a hive of quiet activity. The entire team, from mechanics to engineers, marketing staff to the senior management, stands gathered in a large meeting room just off the factory floor. Whispers ripple through the crowd, conversations hushed and speculative. It’s unusual to have the entire team assembled like this — especially during the off-season.

But today is different. They’ve been told that the team’s new owner will be making her first official appearance, and no one knows what to expect.

The announcement of Red Bull Racing’s sale had come out of nowhere, a shock to everyone. No one knew who the buyer was, only that it was someone with enough money to pull off the purchase in record time. The rumors had flown, the speculation mounting over the past few weeks, but nothing concrete had leaked. All they knew was that something big was coming. Something — someone — new.

The murmur of voices grows louder as the minutes tick by. Eyes dart toward the doors at the far end of the room, the anticipation palpable. Then, the doors swing open.

You walk in, a vision of confidence, head held high. The noise in the room instantly dies down, replaced by the stunned silence of dozens of pairs of eyes turning in your direction. Beside you, Daniel walks in, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, a familiar but unusual sight for the Red Bull team.

The shock is immediate, rippling through the room like a wave. Everyone stares, first at you, then at Daniel, as if trying to piece together how any of this makes sense. The whispers start up again, but you don’t let it faze you. Instead, you step forward with a wide, almost mischievous smile on your face.

“Good morning, everyone!” You greet them brightly, clapping your hands once, the sound echoing in the room. “I’m sure most of you have heard by now, but allow me to introduce myself formally. I’m your new boss.”

You pause, letting the statement sink in as the team stares at you in stunned silence. “My name is Y/N Y/L/N, and I’m thrilled to be taking over as the owner of Red Bull Racing.”

There’s a beat of silence, the team processing the bombshell, before a smattering of hesitant applause starts. You nod, acknowledging the claps, but there’s still a palpable tension in the room. You know they’re still confused, still reeling from the surprise. You’re not done yet.

“And I have one more introduction to make,” you say, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You glance over at Daniel, who’s standing beside you, a little less sure of himself than usual but still flashing that signature Ricciardo smile. “This is my fiancé, Daniel Ricciardo.”

The room gasps. The shock is real this time, murmurs breaking out instantly among the team. Fiancé? Some people turn to each other, others crane their necks to get a better look at Daniel. The whispers intensify, but you continue as if none of it fazes you.

“And I have some exciting news for all of you today,” you say, your voice cutting through the growing chatter. You step forward again, your gaze sweeping across the room. “With the team being restructured, and with Sergio Perez deciding to take some time away from the sport to be with his family …” You pause, letting that hang for a moment, watching the confusion bloom on their faces. “I’m thrilled to announce that Daniel will be returning to Red Bull Racing as a driver next season.”

The room falls completely silent again, a collective intake of breath. For a long moment, no one says a word. Then, as if on cue, someone begins clapping. It’s slow at first, hesitant, but then others join in, and soon the room is filled with applause. The realization starts to settle in.

Daniel Ricciardo — back at Red Bull.

You glance at Daniel, and his eyes meet yours. For a second, you see the flicker of uncertainty in them, the weight of everything hanging in the air. But then, as the applause grows, you see the shift — the spark of confidence returning to him, the slow curve of a genuine smile spreading across his face.

Daniel steps forward, raising a hand to quiet the crowd, but they don’t stop clapping for several more seconds. Finally, the noise dies down enough for him to speak.

“Wow, uh … thanks for that,” Daniel begins, clearly taken aback by the reaction. He rubs the back of his neck, his grin widening as he takes in the faces of the people who, not so long ago, had been his team. “I’ve gotta admit, it feels pretty good to be standing here again.”

A few people in the crowd chuckle, a ripple of warmth spreading through the room.

“I know it’s been a strange few years,” Daniel continues, his voice more serious now. “There were times when I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get back to this place. But when Y/N came into my life, well, let’s just say she’s good at making the impossible happen.” He glances at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of admiration and affection, and you feel your heart flutter in response.

The room watches this exchange, enraptured. There’s something surreal about seeing Daniel Ricciardo, a former Red Bull driver, now standing next to the team’s new owner — his fiancée, no less. It’s a lot for them to process.

Daniel turns back to the team, his expression softening as he addresses them. “This place has always been special to me,” he says quietly. “I’ve had some of my best moments in my career here, and I’m so grateful for the chance to come back and create more memories with you all. I know it’s not going to be easy, and I’ve got a lot to prove. But I’m ready. I’m ready to give everything I’ve got.”

The room bursts into applause again, louder this time, more genuine. The team members seem to be warming up to the idea now, their initial shock replaced by excitement. A few of the senior engineers, who had been with the team during Daniel’s previous stint, exchange nods of approval. There’s a growing sense of anticipation, the mood in the room shifting.

You watch Daniel as he steps back, the energy of the moment clearly lifting him. He catches your eye again, and for a brief moment, it feels like it’s just the two of you in the room. His smile is softer now, more private, meant just for you. You feel a surge of warmth, the bond between you solidifying even more in this shared experience.

Then, clearing your throat, you step forward again, reclaiming the attention of the room. “Now, I know this is a lot to take in,” you say, your tone playful. “But don’t worry. Daniel and I aren’t here to shake things up too much … unless we need to.” A few chuckles ripple through the room at that. “We’re committed to making sure this team remains at the top of the sport. And we’re going to do whatever it takes to get there.”

The applause comes again, more enthusiastic this time. You can feel the room shifting from shock to acceptance, and even a little excitement. The Red Bull team is known for its resilience, for thriving in the face of challenges, and this is no different.

As the clapping fades, one of the senior team members — a man with graying hair and a knowing smile — steps forward. He glances between you and Daniel, then says, “Well, if Daniel’s back, I guess we better start preparing for some shoeys.”

The room bursts into laughter, and even Daniel can’t help but laugh along with them, shaking his head. “You better believe it,” he says with a grin.

Slowly, the group begins to disperse, people heading back to their workstations, some still murmuring excitedly about the news. You catch snippets of conversation — mentions of Daniel’s return, your surprising entrance, and speculation about what’s next for the team.

As the room clears, Daniel turns to you, his expression soft. “You’re really something, you know that?”

You smile at him, feeling the weight of the moment settle around you. “It’s just the beginning,” you say, your voice filled with determination. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”

Daniel grins, reaching for your hand. “Yeah, but I think we’re gonna be just fine.”

You squeeze his hand, your heart swelling with excitement and love. Together, you’ve just taken the first step into a new chapter — one filled with challenges, risks, and plenty of butterflies. But you know, with Daniel by your side, there’s nothing you can’t handle.

And as you leave the factory hand in hand, the future stretches out before you — unknown, thrilling, and entirely yours to shape.

***

The roars from the Melbourne crowd reverberate through the air as the final lap of the Australian Grand Prix begins. The cameras lock onto Daniel’s Red Bull, the #3 flashing as it leads the pack by several seconds. The circuit is electric, and the commentators can barely contain themselves.

“Here we are on the final lap,” David Croft’s voice crackles through the Sky Sports broadcast, almost trembling with excitement. “Daniel Ricciardo, the hometown hero, is this close to claiming his ninth career win — and his first ever win here in Australia. You can hear the crowd, the energy in the air — it’s absolutely incredible!”

Beside him, Martin Brundle jumps in, his tone equal parts admiration and disbelief. “This is what the fans have been waiting for, for years. After everything Daniel’s been through — leaving Red Bull, bouncing between teams, and now back with Red Bull and at the front of the grid — this will be a monumental moment, not just for Daniel, but for every Australian who’s dreamed of seeing him on the top step here.”

The camera flickers briefly to the Red Bull garage. You’re standing at the front, practically on your toes as you watch the live feed with bated breath, every nerve in your body tense with anticipation. You’re surrounded by engineers, mechanics, and team members, but it’s clear that all eyes in the garage are on you. The new team owner, the mastermind behind Daniel’s return to the team. And now, you’re witnessing the culmination of it all.

“Look at that,” Brundle says as the camera focuses on you. “There’s Daniel’s fiancée and the new team owner, Y/N Y/L/N. You’ve got to imagine what this moment means for her too, after buying the team and making the bold decision to bring Daniel back. She’s been nothing short of instrumental in this comeback.”

Crofty’s voice grows louder as Daniel approaches the final few corners. “And here he comes now, through Turn 13, a perfect line through there — keeping it clean. The crowd is going wild, and you can see why! He’s a few corners away from victory, from making history on home soil.”

As the camera switches back to the track, Daniel’s race engineer comes over the radio, his voice steady but filled with excitement.

“Alright, mate. Just bring it home now. One more corner. You’ve got this.”

There’s a brief pause before Daniel’s reply crackles over the airwaves, his voice barely containing his elation. “I’ve got it, mate! I’ve bloody got it!”

The Red Bull flies around the final corner, the engine roaring, and Daniel rockets down the straight toward the checkered flag. The crowd’s roar is deafening as he crosses the line.

“And there it is! Daniel Ricciardo wins the Australian Grand Prix!” Crofty yells, his voice barely audible over the roaring fans. “His ninth career win — and what a win it is! His first win here in Australia, and you can just feel how much this means to him and the crowd!”

The camera immediately cuts back to you, your face a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming joy. You’re laughing, hands clasped over your mouth as the enormity of the moment sinks in. The entire Red Bull garage erupts into cheers, people hugging and high-fiving all around you, but you’re frozen for a moment, just soaking in the euphoria of the victory.

“Look at her reaction!” Brundle says with a chuckle. “You can tell just how much this moment means to the team owner. It’s not just a win for Daniel — it’s a win for them. What a partnership!”

The scene cuts to Daniel inside the cockpit, raising his fists in victory as he slows the car on the cool-down lap. His voice comes over the radio again, almost breathless.

“YEEEEES! Let’s go! Oh my god, we did it! We actually did it!” Daniel shouts, his voice cracking with emotion.

“Mate, you’re a race winner in Australia!” His race engineer’s voice is filled with pride. “Take it in, soak it all in. This is your moment.”

“I’ve waited so long for this …” Daniel’s voice is quieter now, more introspective. “Thank you, everyone. This is unbelievable.”

As he makes his way around the track on the cool-down lap, the camera follows him, showing the thousands of fans on their feet, waving Australian flags and cheering for their hero. It’s an emotional scene, the kind that will go down in F1 history. The commentators fall silent for a moment, letting the raw emotion of the moment speak for itself.

Finally, Crofty breaks the silence. “Daniel Ricciardo has just made history. He’s become the first Australian driver to win here in Melbourne in front of his home crowd, and you can just see how much this means — not just to him, but to every fan in the stands.”

Daniel pulls into parc fermé, his car screeching to a halt under the massive “P1” sign. The mechanics are already leaning over the barriers, waiting for him, their arms raised in celebration. Daniel clambers out of the car, pulls off his helmet, and lets out a roar, his signature grin plastered on his face. The crowd erupts once more, their hero standing victorious before them.

The Red Bull team surrounds him, cheering and patting him on the back. But Daniel's eyes are searching, scanning the pit lane for you. Finally, they find you in the crowd, and without hesitation, he breaks away from the chaos and runs straight to you.

“Hey, boss,” he says, pulling you into a tight hug, his voice barely above the roar of the fans. “Did I do alright?”

You laugh, pushing him back playfully. “I’d say you did more than alright.”

Daniel grins, his smile wide and genuine, and then he’s swept back into the celebrations, the team lifting him onto their shoulders as the cameras capture every second.

The podium celebrations come next, the lights glittering, the trophy standing proud. Daniel, Max Verstappen, and Charles Leclerc climb onto the podium, their faces reflecting the joy and exhaustion of a hard-fought race. The national anthems play, first for Australia, then for Austria, and the crowd sings along, their pride and passion tangible.

When the champagne is finally handed out, Daniel holds his bottle aloft, savoring the moment. He walks to the edge of the podium, holding his finger up to signal the crowd. The fans know what’s coming. The mechanics in the garage know what’s coming. You, standing just below the podium, know what’s coming.

Daniel unlaces his boot and fills it with champagne, holding it high as he looks out over the sea of fans. The crowd roars with approval.

“Oh no …” Brundle says with a laugh, watching from the Sky Sports commentary booth. “Here we go. It wouldn’t be a Daniel Ricciardo victory without a shoey!”

Daniel grins and, with the flair only he can pull off, drinks the champagne from his shoe. The crowd cheers louder than ever, reveling in the chaotic joy of the moment. Even Max, standing beside him, cracks a smile as Daniel offers him the boot, but Max declines with a laugh, shaking his head.

As Daniel finishes the shoey, he looks down at you with a cheeky grin. He points the boot in your direction, his eyes twinkling.

“Wanna join in?” He shouts down, loud enough for the camera to catch.

You cross your arms, shaking your head with a smirk. “Absolutely not.”

Daniel laughs, tossing the boot aside and grabbing the champagne again, spraying the crowd as the podium celebration continues. The cameras capture everything, the joy, the fun, the relief of a long journey finally reaching its pinnacle.

Back in the commentary booth, Crofty speaks again, his voice soft but filled with admiration. “Daniel Ricciardo, a winner in Australia, celebrating in true Ricciardo style. This win means more than just points on the board — it’s the result of hard work, perseverance, and a love for racing.”

Brundle nods, his tone warm. “You’ve got to hand it to Daniel, and to Y/N Y/L/N as well. She brought him back to Red Bull, believed in him when others didn’t, and now they’re celebrating together on the biggest stage. It’s a fairytale moment.”

As the champagne rains down on the podium, Daniel glances over at you again, his face still lit up with that signature Ricciardo grin. And even though you’re not up there with him, he knows that none of this would’ve been possible without you by his side.

This is your team, your driver, and your moment.

[thinkinonsense]

VELVET ELVIS ❤︎

lumberjack!logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: fluff! domesticity! soft!logan pregnancy

author's note: this was inspired by the kacey musgraves song! just wanted to write some fluff :)

divider credit: @/roseraris

within these cabin walls, time stood still. logan liked his life and the time machine he's built himself. you and him live in a 60's dream home.

during the weekdays, logan went to work at the lumberyard while you stayed at home and worked on your paintings. when the two of you moved in together years ago, logan got you to agree to quit your job and prioritize your talents since he was able to do triple the amount of work for a normal man, money would never an issue.

on saturday's, the two of you would go into town and you would bring your art pieces to a shop downtown for them to sell. whatever money you made, you put back towards the supplies you needed because logan covered everything else.

"well, don't 'cha look like a dream" logan compliments as he watches you get ready in the mirror.

"thank you, sugar." you smile as he leans down to kiss your temple then down to your cheek.

"prettiest fuckin' thing i've ever seen." he mutters against your skin. "is this new?"

both of your eyes fall down to the satin powder blue slip dress that adorned your frame. he loved the way it looked with your pretty white mary jane boots and the small bump blooming underneath the soft material of your dress.

"yeah, picked it up earlier this week." you reply, removing the curlers in your hair and teasing the pieces of hair up high.

"love it." logan says, nibbling at your earlobe.

"logan..." you giggle, lightly shoving him away. "go get dressed so we can leave."

"yes, ma'am."

reluctantly, logan gets up and grabs the nice outfit you put together for him earlier. a fresh pair of denim jeans, a white shirt and his brown leather jacket. as an anniversary present one year, you got logan a silver star shaped belt buckle that matched the necklace he got for your birthday when you two first met. in the mirror, you watched him put it on.

"whatcha thinkin' about over there, sweetheart?" he smirks, looking up to find your eyes.

"dippin' you in honey."

"dirty. i like it."

"not like that, perv." you giggle. "just wanna be stuck to you forever."

"that's sweet." he says, walking over, bending down, and gently grabbing your chin to kiss you.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

once the two of you make it inside the tiny shop, logan brings in your painting while you greet the older ladies who own the building. all of them fawn over logan and your round tummy; telling you how lucky you are. something you never let yourself forget.

"you'll never believe what we picked up the gala last weekend." one of the grey haired women tells you.

"what did you two find?" you asked, always curious to their treasures.

"the hell kinda painting is this?" logan asks, looking sideways at one of the paintings on the wall.

the sight makes you laugh. no matter how long you two have been together, logan still struggles to see some of the beauty that you do in certain art pieces.

"i think the handsome lumberjack found it." the other lady winked as they guide you over to where logan stood. hanging upon the wall sat a velvet elvis painting.

"oh my!" you gasp.

ever since you were a little girl, you adored the painting that some would call 'tacky'.

"you like that, sweets?" he questions but you ignore it, stepping closer, running a finger along the golden frame.

"my grandma used to have one in her living room, it was her most prized possession –well, next to my grandpa."

behind you, logan could see the couple smiling to each other. too busy amazed by the painting to notice anything else around you.

“what a lucky find!” you marvel, turning around to face them.

“which is why we want you to have it.” one of them says while the other takes it down from the wall.

in shock, you shake your head insisting that you couldn’t allow them to give it away. they insist on you two taking it home, telling you to hang it somewhere nice. logan wasn’t exactly thrilled to have the painting in the home but he knew you adored it so he would never say a word out loud.

on the way home that night, you raved about the piece. logan loved hearing you talk about the things you were passionate about. he could listen to you explain color theory for hours. his own personal, prettier version of bob ross. when he brought in the painting, you told him exactly where you wanted to hang it in the living room.

“right there, baby.” you instruct him. “be careful.”

the man couldn’t be hurt if he tried but he found your warning cute. once it was hung up, you both step back to admire it. the art work did at least match the aesthetic of the house, logan could admit.

“i mean, its no mona lisa but i don’t mind it.” logan says, pulling you in to kiss your forehead.

“you know, i don’t really care for the mona lisa.” you admit with a shrug.

“really?”

“mhm, don’t like that everyone fawns over it. i want character, creativity, and something unique."

"hm.." he hums, swaying you gently.

"this painting reminds me of you." your voice meek and muffled against his shirt.

"is that so?" he asks, looking down at you.

you nod. "i want something no one else has and something no one else will ever understand the way that i do. you're my favorite work of art, lo."

"i'm only a work of art because you carved and molded me with your beautiful mind." he says, trying to allow a tear to fall down his face.

logan couldn't believe the life he'd been gifted after all the shit he's dealt with in his lifetime. he didn't deserve this; he didn't deserve you. your kindness, your warmth, your talent, your body that carries the only other human he will ever love as much as you. he would never be able to repay you for this little life and slice of peace that you've gifted him.

[00kittenz]

── smarty. ( pjs ) 🪷

๑ Jay has had enough of your brattiness for today, there’s only so much he can take.. so he may as well teach you a little lesson, right?

pair: bf!jay ㅊ gf!reader | warnings: smut, angst (??), small age gap (jay is 5 years older), d/s dynamics, bratty!reader, slight ddlg themes, spanking, p.ssy slapping, oral (f. rec), edging, crying, daddy kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, reader is implied to be a curvy/thick girly but anyone can read tbh ! | words: 1.7k

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“what’d i tell you about saying things like that?”

“i don’t care, it’s true !” you snarled, if it hadn’t been made clear how aggravated you were, it sure as hell was now.

you and jay spent the weekend with his parents at a resort somewhere in jeju. everything was going fine at first, that was until an unexpected guest invited themselves to join your little ‘family trip’. her name was hanna ? halie ? you don’t know and you didn’t care. what fogged your mind for the rest of the trip was how she clung up onto jay like the smoke to dry ice.

what agitated you even more about her was her need to call you out asking you a million questions about your clothing and how she’s so shocked that jay settled down with someone like you. all of her backhanded compliments would rub you the wrong way and she just gave you weird vibes. it’s as if you weren’t “pretty enough” to date him; according to her at least. don’t get it twisted, jay definitely shut all of that down. he wouldn’t let any woman pin you as anything less than you were. a fucking goddess.

“why’re you acting like this? what’d i even do?” he paused. “what haneul does has nothing to do with me.” he continued, eyes focused on the road. he’s become fed up with your constant nagging. maybe it’s just his level of maturity that makes him unable to see it, but he doesn’t understand why you worry so much, it was as if every ‘i love you the most’ ‘you’re my favorite’ ‘it’s only you’s’ didn’t matter. he felt like his words held no weight whatsoever.

“nothing to do with you ? hah, you’re the one who let her bombard our vacation. might i add family vacation.” you sterned, shifting your body closer to the door of the vehicle, looking out the window.

“what did you expect me to do y/n? she’s been a family friend for years now, i can’t just tell her to fuck off and go somewhere else. she’d go crying to my mom about how mean i was to her and that’s just extra drama that i don’t need right now..” he exhaled heavily, glancing at your avoidant figure. when he got no reply from you he left it be, turning up the music to avoid the awkward atmosphere the both of you created.

๑ ๑ ๑

“babe, can you pass me my frames ?” jay dared to ask even though you’d been ignoring him since the incident from earlier.

“y/n.” “please ?” watching as you hadn’t budged even a bit he grew upset. it was already bad enough for him that you were acting like he didn’t even exist, which was fine. though, he wouldn’t just take your constant disrespect.

so he got rid of what seemed to be your main source of attention. your phone.

“what the fuck, jay !” you reached at him. “give me my phone !”

“jay !” he mocked, his voice altering to sound high pitched like yours. “don’t you see that i’m trying put things back together? why do you have to act like such a child.” he was disappointed in you. you were a fully legal adult, yet your actions said differently.

“strip.” jay broke the silence you let fill the room. you were hesitant, and confused, but at least you were actually looking at him now. “you heard me, now.” his brow raised as his mouth slipped a scoff.

were you just gonna let him boss you around ? definitely not. were you feeling intimidated ? yes. but your pride stood stronger than the trouble you’d get into. you breathe heavily finding your way to the door of your bedroom for your dramatic escape; until you felt a tug at your arm and then the softness of your mattress, cosigned with the weight of your built boyfriend.

“i guess i have to do everything myself today, huh ?” jay sounded calm but you knew otherwise, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t let this play out just to see this side of him. ‘cause you did. hell, you felt your wetness dripping past the wall of your ass, the sticky sensation sending your body chills.

the jingle of his belt caught your attention, but before you could even glance at him, your face was meshed with the comforter of your shared bed. you shriek.

“jay— !”

“oh now you wanna talk ? huh, funny.” his hand sent goosebumps throughout your body as he runs his palm over your clothed ass. “it’s a shame you don’t listen. now your pretty tails gonna be all red.” he pinched the fabric of your skirt flicking it upwards onto your lower back.

“ ‘m sorry..” you uttered feeling him tug at your underwear.

now, jay was ignoring you. all you felt was him adjusting your waist, so that your ass sat in the air.

“‘m really sorry..ja—” you pause, shrieking at the leather that came in contact with your silky skin. if you could describe the feel of it, it’s like a slow burn, a slow burning that spread like wildfire everytime he unleashed the branded weapon on you.

discipline is a topic your parents took lightly. yeah, they disciplined you, but it was never a ‘bend over my knee’ type of discipline. more like, every morning you wake up ‘sit in that corner’ type of discipline. jay never went soft on you when it came down to it. he wanted to make sure you never do whatever you’re in trouble for again.

“crying ? what’re you crying for,” jay never pushed aside your emotions, he had to hear you out or his guilt would eat him alive. hearing you sniffle shot a sort of worry in him.

“listen, you put yourself in this situation—” he paused throwing his belt. “you already know what happens when you wanna act like a brat.” he palmed your cunt. he wasn’t going to baby you this time, that’s all he ever did. maybe this was partially his fault too..

subconsciously, you felt yourself grinding on his hand. you were needy, you always were after a punishment, even if he didn’t know. but now, you were on display. there was no way he wouldn’t find out.

“you’re such a fucking slut,” his thumb caressing your entrance, pushing your sweetness through your dewy folds. “already so wet for daddy, hm?” his thumb slid through your sticky walls in a in and out motion. your slick caking his finger everytime he pulled it from inside you.

“please..” was a constant that came from your mouth. you didn’t know what you were pleading for. more ? less ? what was it ? you only knew that he made you feel so good. the look of him drenched you. you wanted him to slut you out. ruin you.

“please ? please what?” he couldn’t help but snort at you. the mere thought that you can get what you want with just a please— scratch that. the thought that you think you can get whatever you want after testing his patience, made him laugh. “please.. forgive me ?”

“i dunno..m” you slurred, you were estatic. just his thumb, making you feel so dumb. it made you feel small, like you were nothing but a tiny spectacle of dust.

“you dunno..? wan’ me to help you find out ?” you were flipped onto your back before you knew it. once you saw the shift in his eyes change, you knew what he was prone to do. the thought itself making you spread your legs wide open.

you even made the mistake of trying to rub yourself. that quickly got disposed.

“you lost your damn mind ?” his hand reached down to slap your weeping pussy.

“baby, i can’t wait.. please!” you whined watching as he kneeled down, face between your begging thighs, hands cupping each pretty chunk of flesh.

“but you can.” “matter of fact, you will.” he blew onto your core. the cold sensation bringing your hips to a jolt. his eyes scanned your smaller figure watching every expression that played out on your face, then down to your breasts. “lift up your shirt, let me see your beautiful body, baby.”

earning yourself a “good little girl.” when you comply.

๑ ๑ ๑

you hadn’t gotten a break since he started his mouth on you. drinking in your first orgasm, then the second. seems like you were now on your third.

“fuck.. jay.” you groaned your hips aching to move in his grasp. you’d try not to breakdown whenever his nose came in touch with your throbbing clit.

“you done ? talk to me baby.” he growled against your heat. his warm breath made you thirsty. he was eating you like it was his last supper. ripping you to absolute shreds.

“i’m gonna come, daddy..” your legs were shaking, your voice was whiney, and you needed an exhale. once he started sucking on your clit your back arched. at him, the feel, and the thought of him, making you feel.

“yeah, you gonna come for me ?”

“yeah.. wan’ come for you..” you spoke through labored breaths. once your moaning got louder, he stopped. he’d love to make you come, third times a charm. but he wasn’t going to. he basically lured you in just to trick you.

“jayy !” “it was right there, i was about to cum !” you childishly whined at the begging sensation between your legs. the quivering feeling making you force your legs closed to suppress the throbbing feel. you felt his hungry stare on you. you knew he wanted you. it’s when you realized this wasn’t an after punishment treat. he was edging you. right after overstimulating you. how cruel..

“aww, look at you ! my pretty girl..” he pouted at you, your sad, twitching state. you were groaning for more as he watched you. pitying you. how could you have thought it was over? after a mere spanking ? silly.

“i guess you really thought huh.” he cackled. “ooh ! should we order room service.. i’m kinda hungry. you ?” he got up to go and search for the phone.

maybe you did deserve this. shouldn’t be acting so damn bratty all the time, even if it’s in your nature to piss him off. now look at you. eyes all watery, and a mess between your legs.

oh well, not his problem.

[honeybeedewdrops]

Photo Gone Wrong | L.Norris

Summary: McLaren ask Y/N to take a picture of Lando and Oscar holding their first and third place trophy. What could go wrong?

Warnings: mention of a bloody nose

______________________________________________________________

The McLaren garage was the place to be after the Singapore Grand Prix. "Y/N" Someone called as you walk out of the garage. You stop and see one of the social media managers calling you over, Oscar and Lando close by her side.

"hey what's up" you say walking over to them. "Would you be able to take a picture of the boys holding their trophies for the McLaren socials." You nod and start to get your camera out. "Sure any particular way" You ask. "yeah were thinking like this one" the social media managers says getting out her phone and showing you a picture the boys had taken a few weeks ago.

"oh uh ok" you says not so sure about this picture many things could go wrong. "What? What's wrong you seem hesitant" the social media manager asks "I just what if one of them drop the trophy and break my camera or worse me" you state "come on Y/n don't you trust us" Lando says "You not so much. Oscar he's fine" Lando rolls his eyes. "Come on Y/n" Lando begs "i'll make sure he doesn't so anything" Oscar says "fine" you agree. You get down on the ground and point your camera up "Ok lean in" you say. Lando grips his trophy and nearly drops it causing you to squeal and turn away. Lando started laughing, "Lando" you complain "alright alright i'm serious" he says as the two lean in.

You snap a couple photos and before anyone could react Lando had dropped his trophy. He scrambled to catch it but even with his fast reflexes it was too late. The trophy came to a crash against your face the end hitting just perfectly in between your camera and cheek hitting your nose full on. You toss your camera aside not caring about it and sitting up grabbing your nose, crying out in pain. Blood started to gush out. "Oh my gosh Y/n I am so sorry I didn't mean it" Lando panicked. "I think, I think you broke my nose" you says as tears started to pool and fall. "We need a medic" Lando calls and Oscar takes off towards the medical center at least that's where you hopped he was going. "I am so sorry. what can I do?" Lando asks "Can you maybe get me a towel or something?" you ask holding your bloody nose that was really hurting. Lando looks around and spots a bag a few meters away he opens it and hands you a shirt. A crowd started to form and you started to get embarrassed. You tried not to put too much pressure as if you did it hurt.

A few minutes later Oscar came rushing over a few of the medical team right behind him. At that point your hands and the t-shirt you had were covered in blood. "Hey can you tell me your name" one Medic asks "Y/n" she says as the medic takes the cloth away. "ok that looks pretty bad" He says going into his bag and removing the t-shirt the medic poked around your nose making you flinch any time he'd touch a tender spot. "I'm sorry" he'd say.

Once the medic was finished he handed you some tissues to catch the blood. "Ok now we are going to get you onto the stretcher and get you down to the center" you nod as the three medics helped you up and then onto the stretcher. Lando walked up to you "Y/n i am so sorry" Lando apologies once again. "It's fine Lando I'll be fine" you said as they wheeled you away Lando following close behind.

They get to the medical center where you are put on some heavy medication to help with the pain as well as a blood thinner to help with stopping the bleeding. "Y/n we are going to take you to the hospital to get you checked out and make sure it's not a serious break from the looks of it you'll be fine will just have to wear a splint for about 2 weeks" "ooookkkk" you nod lazily the pain meds really doing some work.

The medic leaves to get the ambulance ready. "Sorry about your shirt" you said holding out the bloody McLaren shirt. "It's ok it's not even mine" he said pushing it back into your lap "oh good" you say and closes your eyes. "Y/n" Lando says "mmhm" "I am so sorry" you groaned tired of hearing him apologise "ugh stop apologising" "I can't help it. I feel really bad" you sighs "I'll be fine Lando" the medic comes back and start loading you into the van. Lando once again by your side. In the ambulance the bleeding had finally stopped and your nose was really swollen and starting to bruise.

Once at the hospital the doctor did confirm you had a broken nose but it wasn't severe enough that you needed surgery just needed to set it back and keep a splint on for 2 weeks.

Lando was very sweet the entire time, he waited the entire time. Even after you begged him to leave to celebrate his win with the team he didn't.

Luckily for you there was a 3 week break in between Singapore and Austin. When the Austin race did roll around you didn't have to wear a splint anymore and the swelling had gone so now it was just really bruised, but many still asked what had happened. 

[okwonyo]

TALK TO ME, 或 𓈒𓈒 pick up lines on you.

⟡​⎯⎯⎯ 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾-𝗎𝗉 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾𓈒𓈒

𝒾 ⠀⦂ ⠀ 엔하이픈 ୨୧ f ╱ r! 1OOO fluff ── non idol au skinship ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀ ( 𝑜𝑜𝑒𝑢𝑣𝑟𝑒𝑠 )

지아 ⠀⦂ ⠀hi ! enjoy this, my loves >3<

rblgs♥︎fdbcks & C𝑙𝑖CK

HEESEUNG

after pondering about it for a while— would be patient, waiting for the right time to say his flirting line to you.

would watch you from afar as you walk, following your trajectory— like some kind of stalker — looking for the moment there would be no one around you. 

then, when it comes, his shoulder would ‘accidentally’ bump into yours and make you, sort of dramatically, stumble on the side. the only reason you would not fall face flat on the ground would be his hand around your arm. 

“i’m so sorry,” he would tell you, with his hand on his heart and all.

you would smile at him and he would blush, “i’m fine,” you would assure him, like you knew exactly what he wanted. 

“oh, yes, you are” he would smirk. 

JAY

this guy would spend days looking for a good pick up line to use on you because he would read somewhere that it could work well. 

would be so content of himself when he finds one. would lean on his chair with his arms crossed and satisfied sigh leaving his broad chest— would also nod in almost comedic way.

a day, would come sit next to you then stay silent for a while. 

his phone’s screen would appear in front of your face suddenly, a warm smile would be drawn on his face, “all the good pick up lines were taken but you aren’t” he would softly say. “mind if i get your number?”

and, no, you would not mind at all.

JAKE

as the hopeless romantic and pathetically dramatic guy that he is, the chance that he would not choose the most dramatic one he knows or can find would be truly little— nonexistent even. 

would fall right at your feet, literally, because he has no shame at all when it comes to that burning attraction he has for you, and would stay on the floor for a long time. 

you would have to lower yourself to check if he is even breathing, you would poke his cheek, “are you okay?” 

the sight of his breathtaking smile would make your stomach tighten as he would look up to you. he would run his hand in his hair like those guys in romance japanese comics. 

“i’m okay,” he would affirm. “just fell in love with you,” then he would wink.

SUNGHOON

would wait until he secured an actual real and true date with you before trying any pick up lines. 

on a sunny day, would come pick you up for your date without really telling you where you are going, so you will find yourself following him around without knowing much at all. 

“sunghoon,” you would call him gently and he would turn to look at you with a fond look, “where are we going?”

would actually want to respond to you at the moment, but he would be hit with the realization that he can do the smoothest thing ever known to mankind in that exact moment. 

“i’d like to take you to the movies but they don’t let you bring your own snacks in,” this insane man would tell you, “so, what about the aquarium?” 

SUNOO

would be so sweet about it. with fondness in his eyes, would look at you from the corner of his eyes not so discreetly— gathering the courage to speak up. 

would watch you scroll through your phone as you stand beside him, so pretty and so warm, would be unable to take his eyes off of you.

when, maybe by telepathically calling from him, you get off your phone and look at him, his face would welcome your eyes with a soft smile that you would return. shyly, would speak up, “di-did you fall into a pile of sugar?” he would ask. 

his shyness and nervousness would mirror the pink in his chubby cheeks when you would give him a confusing look, “because you look super sweet,” and would proceed to get full red in the face immediately. 

you would need to tell him that it’s really cute as he hides his face with his hands. 

JUNGWON

would stare at you shamelessly for at least ten hot minutes, knowing well that it makes you flustered. his flirting would be so raw and obvious, and he would not even care about it. 

now, the pick up line use would be just for the sake of teasing you more, to get a cute reaction out of you. would bite into bait-like questions when you would ask him what is wrong with him. 

he would shrug, “i was just wondering if you were tired,” and there would be his butterflies sending smirk. “you know, ‘cause you have been running through my mind all day,” 

stopping at one would be too great to be true, would add some more when you blush, “i mean, angels are supposed to be in heaven. how’d you escape?” and would laugh when you would  kick his caf. 

RIKI

although he is the king of flirting, all of his abilities would vanish in front of you. 

would have asked his friends how to properly flirt with the girl he likes and wants to ask out, which would be not helpful in the slightest. so, he would have to ask the internet. 

unfortunately for him, his heart would start beating in his ears at the thought of using a pick up line on you alone, but dear god, he would want you so bad that he would be ready to do anything. 

even using stupid pick up lines for something as simple as your socials. 

would approach you while you are alone, so the situation would be less embarrassing, coughing to get both your attention and his voice out, “c-can i get your instagram?”  

when you would look at him, would be with his fist in front of his mouth, blushing and looking away like in teen romance while he shows you his phone.  “my parents always told me to follow my dreams.”

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open.

[alchemistc]

Tommy slumps further into the couch cushions, and the looks Eddie gives him is - dire, really. Tommy sort of wants to get shit faced and cry a little while cradling this throw pillow - the same one Evan had smacked him with a week ago while they crowded Eddie's too-small couch and Tommy had made fun of Evan for not knowing a single player on the Dodgers.

("You're actively rooting against them, why do you care if I know who they are?"

"Know thy enemy, Buckley," was Eddie's immediate response, and Evan had swung the pillow when he caught Tommy and Eddie fist bumping out of the corner of his eye.)

"Pretty sure it's actually cheating to come to me," Eddie intones, but he's already up and moving towards the cabinet where he keeps the good whiskey.

He settles into the recliner and gestures with the bottle, a very clear 'go on' in his expression.

Tommy thinks about maybe just - drowning himself in spirits and hiding under a rock for the rest of his life.

"I asked Evan to move in with me."

Eddie's brow kicks up. He purses his lip. Nods. His eyes do something that tells Tommy he is actively biting down on whatever it is he's thinking.

"And...you...fought. You fought about Buck ... moving in."

(Six months is such a short time, really. They've just leapt every other milestone like it's their damn job, and - Christ, they'd had keys to each other's places in weeks.)

Tommy narrows his eyes. "You know something."

"Yeah, and that's why this," he gestures vaguely in the direction of Tommy, fully pouting on his couch and commandeering too large a surface area for Eddie to actually join him there, "is cheating."

Tommy would love to point out that he just doesn't have a shit ton of friends willing to listen to him bitch about an argument he's trying to figure out without fucking imploding the whole goddamn thing. He'd love to point out that he and Eddie have already set these boundaries and Tommy is aware he's pushing it.

Tommy tilts his head against the back of the couch and stares at the ceiling. "Well if we can't talk about it, at least get me drunk."

Eddie hands him a shot glass and stands to go grab them both beers.

---

"So the thing is," Tommy says, slumped against Eddie's side and gesturing in front of himself. His hands are - they're a little blurry. Thank God he isn't on call. "The thing is."

He's got a hangnail that's been driving him nuts for weeks. He's already got a layout in his head for how to make Evan's wardrobe fit in his closet. Half of Evan's kitchen lives in Tommy's already, and he'd - he'd been sure they were in the same page.

"The thing?" Eddie asks, and - Christ, it's not like Eddie's having an easy time with any of the - anything. He's definitely overindulged right along with Tommy. Thank fuck they're not maudlin drunks, just what they need is two PTSD riddled idiots filled up with liquor and bemoaning their lives.

"What thing?"

"The thing, Tommy."

Right. The thing. "I love him," Tommy says, and Eddie's eyes go wide like he doesn't already know this. But Tommy - Tommy's said it in range of Eddie's hearing, right? He's - he's said it.

(The lone braincell shared between them whispers that Tommy has said it, once, to the curls atop Evan's sweaty head while Evan was still passed out on his chest. Fuck braincells.)

"Uhuh."

"What uhuh?"

You don't ask someone to move in with you when you still haven't worked up the courage to say I love you to someone's face, is the thing. And Evan's said it - happy and carefree and open even when Tommy just kissed him to distract him from Tommy not saying it back. He has to know, right? Tommy's said it in every other way he knows how.

"Listen, bro code broken, man, Buck's fucking terrified to mess this up with you and the whole 'you haven't said the words' has been, like, messing with his head for weeks, dude. And now outta the blue, hey move in with me? He's trying desperately not to assume you did something terrible and are using this to cover it up."

"He told you that?"

Eddie scoffs. He actually says 'pshhh', and rolls his head towards Tommy. "No." He enunciates too much. The 'o' is way too long in that word. It's a two letter word, how did he make it sound like seven syllables?

Tommy wants another shot, but Eddie had clearly not meant for that whiskey to be shared and it'd already been more than half gone when he pulled it out. There's...maybe half an ounce left. Fuck.

"Then how...?"

"I already broke bro code for you, dumbass. Can't you read between the lines?"

"Is this like the couch thing?"

The mindfuck of trying to decipher Eddie and Evan's little shared looks while Evan announced that Tommy's couch was his favorite couch had been -

He's getting off track.

He hasn't said the fucking words. He's in love with the sweetest, kindest, most beautiful, filthiest fucking man he's ever known and he hasn't said the words.

"Hamster wheel," Eddie says sagely, like that means a damn fucking thing, but Tommy's already fumbling for his phone. Texting that is out of the question, and he doesn't want to call while he's... more drunk than he'd care to admit.

Tommy shoves Eddie off his shoulder, and only gets a little spinny when he stands. He's a forty year old man, he can absolutely ask his boyfriend to pick him up from... his boyfriends best friends house and help him sober up so he can have a conversation.

"Water," Tommy says, and Eddie snorts.

"Toooo late."

Tommy feels about five years old when he shoves at Eddie's face before retreating to the kitchen.

---

"Tommy," Evan says, bent low over the couch, and Tommy blinks himself awake, regretting every drop of whiskey he'd drunk last night. He'd - there'd been water. An attempt at typing out a message. A slap fight in Eddie's kitchen when he decided to chow down on the last of the casserole Evan had left behind three days ago. More water.

This couch is way too fucking small for him. He's - he's still got one shoe on, and a blanket crumpled haphazardly over one leg. His head is pounding.

Evan looks - concerned. Maybe still a little annoyed. Fond.

"Ev," he manages, moving to sit up and regretting it when five million bees make a home right there against his frontal lobe. Smoke clears that out, right? He remembers Evan being super fucking proud that that had worked.

Evan holds up a glass of water that Tommy takes gratefully. He doesn't drink it nearly as slowly as he should.

When he's done, Evan stands, and - God his legs are long. Tommy loves those fucking legs - loves the hair that catches against his calluses on his way up towards the promised land, loves the strength behind them when he snaps his hips forward, loves the way they feel all wrapped around him when they're -

"We are not anywhere close to the sort of resolution necessary for that look," Evan says, and Tommy sighs. Because they haven't talked about it. Because they'd yelled and smacked their hands against counters and the explosion had sent them careening off in different directions and Tommy hasn't told him.

"Angry sex can be fun," Tommy wheedles, a little unnecessarily because he doesn't actually want - and on Eddie's couch to boot, which is absolutely not what he's angling for.

"I'm not mad at you," Evan says, and Tommy gives him an unimpressed look. "Okay, I'm mostly just - confused."

Fair enough. Tommy's been confusing. Tommy's been -

Tommy curls a hand around the meat of Evan's calf and tips his head against Evan's thigh. "Can we not do this in Eddie's living room?"

---

He doesn't want to admit that it took Eddie breaking all sorts of friendship rules for Tommy to even grasp the point of Evan freezing the fuck up when Tommy had mentioned his lease. He doesn't want to admit that he's fucking terrified, all the time, about the feelings in his chest that never quite settle, that bubble up at the strangest times because every-fucking-thing reminds him of Evan. He doesn't want to admit that he'd just leapt that hurdle in his mind even though Evan has been very clearly marking every other step with metaphorical (and sometimes literal) sticky notes.

Evan hands him his tea and immediately starts picking at the paper sleeve on his cup of coffee.

"I'm not afraid of losing you," Tommy starts, which is - the opposite of the point he's trying to make, and Evan's grimace tells him it's a bad place to start. "I mean that's not why I asked."

Evan is still grimacing. And that's - Christ, he hadn't even planned it, it was just - he'd been there, digging through Tommy's sock drawer, his shit tumbling out of his overnight bag at the end of the bed and his book on the history of perfume in the bedside table and his crock pot stewing something that smelled heavenly, thirty feet away, and he wanted that always, wanted that forever, wanted more than anything to enjoy all the little moments that came before he spent the money in savings hed been setting aside since successful date number five when he'd wondered if Evan had ever thought about getting married.

"You think I asked out of convenience, right? Your stuff's already there, might as well?"

"I'm not leaving things there on purpose."

"I want you to leave things there on purpose. I want all your things there, on purpose. Even when you move my milk to the fridge door and my sugar stash to the wrong pantry shelf and even when you replace my toothpaste because it doesn't have the right enamel protection."

His lip quirks. That had been a near argument too. Tommy was particular. Tommy didn't do great with change. Evan's changed damn near fucking everything, for Tommy, and he's never been more grateful for a single thing in his fucking life.

Tommy curls a finger around Evan's wrist, and his gaze darts up through his lashes. They're long, and distracting, and Tommy wouldn't mind shoving this disagreement to the side so he can brush his lips across the paper thin lids of his eyes, but -

"I missed some steps, getting there," Tommy admits, and Evan bites his lip like he's trying to hide a smile.

"My fault, a bit. I - I could see why you might have just assumed we were scaling 'em two at a time."

"Evan," he says, and breathes a sigh of relief when his free hand darts out to smooth the veins on the back of Tommy's hand.

"Next week is six months," he says, like Tommy doesn't fucking know that, and his thumb sweeps over Tommy's knuckles. "So, i -if you have anything you wanna say before then, you got a week before you can ask me again."

(Six months is the blink of an eye, actually, but Tommy hates every blink that doesn't include Evan in it.)

"You got plans?" Tommy asks, and Evan's face pinkens.

"If you're lucky I'll even tell you them."

"It's a date."

[woso-dreamzzz]

Video IV

Lotte Wubben-Moy x Toddler!Reader

Summary: You go to soft play

When Lotte looks back on her decisions in life, it's with a lot of fondness.

She's a football player now for both club and country. She's got a good life. Good friends. Good family.

But sometimes there's a few decisions she's made that aren't looked back on with such fondness.

Like that time she thought eating herself into a food coma last Christmas was a good idea or the time that she thought going for a bike ride without her helmet at seven years old was a good idea as well.

This is one of those moments.

She isn't quite sure what possessed her to make this decision.

Babysitting you was a common occurrence, whenever Beth and Viv wanted to go out on a little date without you or they were stuck in meetings and pr commitments that you just couldn't come to.

You stay over at Lotte's house a lot actually and with the introduction of your new trike, she's started to take you out to the park to do some laps.

But you're still little and growing and Lotte's sure that repeating the same things every day is harming your development more than helping it.

Which is why Lotte decided to stimulate your brain today by taking you to the soft play place.

She'd (wrongly) assumed that she would be able to sit by herself at one of the little tables for adults while you ran around and had fun.

Instead, she's scrunched up next to you, high up off the ground as you crawl around a few of the dangling things from the ceiling.

"Auntie Lolo!" You call when she doesn't crawl through too," Auntie Lolo! Let's go!"

Lotte sighs, shuffling through on her knees as you squeeze yourself into an even smaller space that she has to get into as well.

"Are you sure you don't want to go down the slide?" Lotte asks," Or maybe we can go back into the ball pit?"

It's easy to track you in the ball pit. Much easier than traversing all of these ledges and nooks.

You huff, little cheeks puffing out. "No, auntie Lolo," You say," We climb."

"Are you sure? I'm getting old, munchkin. I don't think I have much climbing left in me."

You frown a little, brow furrowing until a little crinkle appears. You shuffle back over to Lotte on your bum, little hand reaching out and touching her skin.

"Mmm, no. Not old. Doctor says so."

"Munchkin-"

"Doctor."

"Doctor Munchkin," Lotte says," Are you sure I'm not too old for all this climbing? I feel too old for it."

You shake your head. "Not old, auntie Lolo! We climb!"

You're off again, clambering up a few more ledges, ducking under dangling things and squeezing your body into spaces that Lotte struggles to follow after you in.

"See!" You say suddenly, pressing your face against the mesh rope to peer out to the rest of the play place," Is our kingdom. I'm King-Doctor and you're Queen-Auntie Lolo."

Lotte has to smother a bit of a laugh at how proud you are.

"A King-Doctor? That sounds like a lot of work?"

You nod seriously. "Is hard," You admit," But have you, Queen-Auntie Lolo. Lessi says you're prime minister!"

Lotte laughs. "Of course she did."

"So we rule together," You continue," Now! Slide!"

You go back the way you came, wiggling through the little nooks and crannies that Lotte has to shove her way through. She's pretty sure she's got a friction burn from dragging herself across the floor.

"Oh, now she wants the slide," She mutters, nearly falling head-first down a ledge after forcefully dislodging her foot from where it got stuck.

"Queen-Auntie Lolo!" You holler and Lotte picks up her pace.

The last time she let you go down the slide by yourself, you tumbled down like a log and there was still a little mark on your head from it.

"Alright, munchkin," She says, pulling you onto her lap," Are you ready?"

"Ready Queen-Auntie!"

"Alright. Here we go!"

The bumps in the slide make your tummy go all funny in the fun way and you burst into giggles as you make it to the bottom, kicking your legs happily.

"Again!"

Lotte looks up at the play structure, already knowing that you're going to take the long way, the one that includes all the detours and getting lost at least three separate times.

She winces at the thought, already reaching out to catch you by the back of the collar.

"How about we have some nuggets first? And then we'll see how we feel after lunch?"

It's sneaky on Lotte's part, that's for sure because you love nothing more than a nap after lunch.

You think for a moment. "Okay, Queen-Auntie Lolo. We can eat first."

Lotte smiles. "Thanks, munchkin."

"But only if we can get ice cream."

"Yeah, alright. We can get ice cream too."

[firewasabeast]

“Tommy!” Eddie cheered, lifting his drink toward the sky as he spotted his friend walking toward him. “Whatcha doin' here, Man?”

“Figured I'd stop by and see how you were doing, Bud,” Tommy replied. He gave Eddie a pat on the back as he sat down in the empty seat next to him. “You come here alone?”

“Mhm. Needed ta get out. House's too quiet.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Too long,” the bartender interrupted as he walked by. “Was about to cut him off. I already took his keys.”

Eddie's eyebrows furrowed, looking around the bar counter. “Hey! You took my keys.”

“I got him,” Tommy said, giving the bartender a nod. “I gotta say, at least you're talking better than you're texting. I was worried.”

Eddie's face scrunched up in confusion. “Huh? I never did texted you.”

“Oh, I beg to differ.” Tommy fished his phone out of his jacket pocket and went to his messages. “'Buuuuuuuck, lezz drink, Buddy.' Then five minutes later, 'Bruck, why rn't you at bar? I waiting.' A good two minutes after that you sent me your location with an angry emoji. Then, and this is my personal favorite, 'Loser too busy kissy kissy with Tummy to be a friendship.'”

"Huh. Thought I was textin' Buck.”

“Yeah, I pieced that together.”

“So where's Buck if you're not kissy kissy?” Eddie asked, his final drink sloshing over his fingers as he attempted to bring it to his lips.

Tommy took the drink from Eddie and set it back on the counter. “Evan is watching Jee overnight so Howie and Maddie can have a night away. So, you wanna talk about whatever's bothering you? I mean, I could take a guess, but...”

“Nah. No, no, nope. I wanna,” Eddie pulled at the collar of his shirt. “Lessgo karaoke, Tomboy-”

“We're not calling me that.”

“I wanna sing to the rooftops,” Eddie continued, his words slurring more and more with each sentence. “I wanna. I wanna be, you know, be free, Tommy. I don't have a rea-,” he hiccuped, “reason to get back home.”

“Really? Seems like that's exactly where you need to be right now.”

Eddie's eyes widened, like he'd thought of the best idea in the entire world. “Let's go to Peeping Tom! That's your name!”

“Peeping Tom is a gay bar, Eddie.”

“I don judge.”

“A very kinky, fully nude gay bar,” Tommy clarified.

Eddie squinted, deep in thought. “No karaoke?”

“No karaoke.”

“Well, then were we go? Don't say home!”

“Home.”

“Ugh,” Eddie groaned, allowing Tommy to wrap an arm around his back and help him up. “You're like a no- no fun dad. Wish I'd texted fun dad.”

Tommy gripped onto Eddie tighter as he stumbled while taking a step. He sighed. “Maybe next time.”

*****

When Eddie woke up the next morning it was to a pounding headache and blinding sunlight coming through his window. He was nauseous and his mouth tasted like a mixture of gasoline and mouthwash.

He laid there for a few minutes, trying to figure out what happened that made him feel so unbelievably ill.

After a few failed attempts, he finally rolled out of bed and made his way into the kitchen to fix himself some coffee.

He froze when he walked through the door to see Tommy sitting there, reading the newspaper.

“Good... morning?” Eddie started, confused.

Tommy set the paper down. “Morning. Sleep well?”

“I- I think so, I guess. It's a little blurry.”

Tommy hummed. “Not surprising. Coffee just finished, if you want some. Your couch is not comfortable, by the way.”

“Buck's never complained.”

“Yeah, well, he's easier to please than I am.”

Eddie was too hungover for this. He had so many questions, but for some reason the first one out of his mouth was: “Where'd you put my shoes?”

“In your closet.”

He grabbed himself a cup for some coffee. “My keys?”

“We have to go pick them up at the bar today, along with your car, obviously.”

“You didn't close my curtains last night. Woke up thinking I was being interrogated by Ice T.”

Tommy sighed, leaning back in his seat. “'Thank you so much for getting me home safely, Tommy. Did it hurt your back having to drag me into the house while I belted out Bohemian Rhapsody at the top of my lungs?'” He stood, walking over to Eddie and taking the coffee out of his hand, drinking a big sip. “Thank you for asking, Eddie. I think my back will be okay, but my ears will never recover.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, turning to fix himself another cup. “Thank you for getting me home safely, Tommy. I appreciate it.”

“Mhm. No problem.” Tommy returned to his seat and Eddie joined him at the table. They sat in silence for a couple minutes, taking small sips of their drinks.

Eventually, Tommy set his cup down a little harder than normal, getting Eddie's attention with the clinking sound. “Wanna talk about it?”

“About what? How your coffee tastes like cigarette sludge?”

“I'll take that as a no then.” Tommy checked his watch. “The bar doesn't open until three. Want me to stop by and pick you up then?”

Eddie shook his head. “I can just get an Uber, Man, thanks though.”

“Of course. I'll, uh, let you recover.” Tommy stood and went to leave, checking his pocket for his keys and phone.

As he neared the door, Eddie spoke. “Wait,” he said. Tommy turned back to face him.

“Yeah?”

“Why'd you sleep on my couch?”

“You're my friend,” he answered simply. “You drank a lot. Wanted to make sure you were okay.” He took a step back toward the table. “Are you okay?”

Eddie cradled the mug in his hands, watching the steam rise from the cup. “You don't... How long has it been? Since you talked to your dad?”

Okay, so Tommy wasn't leaving then.

He came to the table and sat down, taking a moment to think about Eddie's question. “About six years, I think.”

“What did he do?” He looked over at Tommy. “To make you stop talking to him, I mean. Unless you don't wanna get into it. In fact, forget it, I shouldn't-”

“Eddie, it's fine,” Tommy assured him. “I don't mind.”

“Okay,” Eddie nodded, sitting up straighter. “So? What happened?”

“It wasn't just one thing,” Tommy explained. “It was a lifetime of things. He's... He's not a good man. I think the catalyst was about a year after I came out. I hadn't been home in awhile, so I decided to drive to his place one weekend. When he answered the door he said, 'What the hell are you doing here?' I told him I was coming to see him and he said, 'What's the damn point in that?' I thought about it for a second and realized that was a good question, so I turned around, got in my car, and left. Never looked back.” Eddie seemed to be contemplating his words, and Tommy could tell where this was going. “It's not the same thing, Eddie,” he said, beating Eddie to it.

“What if he doesn't come back? What I did, Tommy, it wasn't... It was bad.”

“You made a mistake.”

“I cheated on my girlfriend with a doppelganger of his mom, Tommy, and he caught me.”

“Granted, it was a big mistake,” Tommy deadpanned. “But, still a mistake. He'll come around. You gotta give him time.”

“People keep telling me that,” Eddie replied with an eye roll. “That he'll come around. But it's been months of nothing. And it seems like no matter what I do, it's not enough.”

“You're trying.”

Eddie huffed. “I'm not sure getting drunk alone at a bar is trying.”

“I think it shows you care, Eddie. And, yeah, that shouldn't become a habit, but you're allowed to be upset. You're allowed to hurt. You made a mistake, but you're a good dad and Christopher knows that. He will come around.”

“And if he doesn't?” Eddie asked, staring over at Tommy.

“Then you keep trying,” Tommy replied. “You never stop trying. Keep being there, keep sending him letters and getting him on Facetime. Go for a visit. Send him texts. I'm not saying you gotta smother him, but never let him forget that you're there. That's the biggest mistake you could ever make.”

“Yeah,” Eddie took a deep breath. “Yeah, you're right. I just... I gotta keep it up. Let him know I'm here, whenever he's ready.”

“Exactly.”

Eddie looked over at the clock on his stove, 11:32 staring back at him. He had no idea he'd slept so long. “Why don't you call Buck, see if he wants to come over and watch a game? Then you can drive me to my car.”

“Oh, you want me to call Evan? Don't you mean fun dad?” Tommy asked, eying Eddie.

It took him a minute, but the memory came back to him. “I did say that, didn't I?”

“You did,” Tommy confirmed. “Which I'm very offended by, by the way. I'm fun!”

Eddie sighed, his head drooping down. “I know you are.”

“I introduced you to karaoke trivia. I've flown you to Vegas.”

“I remember.”

“I never tried to seriously injure you in the name of love.”

“Which I'm very grateful for.”

“I don't have control issues when I have a clipboard in my hand.”

“Are you just gonna keep listing reasons why you're fun?”

“I once shoved three cupcakes in my mouth at once! Nearly choked to death, but Evan whacked me on the back and everything went down just fine.”

Eddie stood with his mug in hand, pointing toward the living room, “I'm gonna go to the couch. Get more comfortable.”

Tommy followed behind, pulling out his phone to call Buck. “I'll let Evan tell you who bowled a 230 last week. Hint: it was me!”

[luveline]

jade!! i saw you were willing to add emily to your 46 fics and i have a request!! i think about your emily x single mom!reader everyday and i was wondering if you’d write more in that universe? maybe emily has to drop readers kid off at their first day of pre-k or preschool (i have no clue what you call it in the uk) because reader has a work emergency or something??

thanks so much for requesting! fem, 1.1k

“It’ll be fun,” Emily says. 

Jane is looking at Emily like she’s grown a second head. “No.” 

Emily tries again. Swallows her nerves, and readjusts herself where she’s on her knees. “Mommy was gonna drop you off herself, but it's her very first day back at work and they needed her super early, so it’s me. But mom will be the one who picks you up again.” 

Jane just squints. 

“I have to go to work, too,” Emily says. 

“I’m com’n with you,” Jane says, nodding. 

Emily looks behind Jane at the baby gated corral of little kids. It’s possibly the worst adjustment in the world for your work to decide the day-of that you’d have to go early. You didn’t have time to prepare Jane for her own first day, and Emily isn’t good at this bit yet. 

“No,” Emily says, holding Jane by both arms, “I have to go work too, and it’s too boring for you. You’re gonna have way more fun here meeting your new friends.” 

Jane had already met one of the daycare workers, incidentally called Janet, a few days ago to try and ease the new phase of her life, but it’s a common fact that the majority of kids cry on their first day here. Why wouldn’t she? Jane has spent the majority of her growing life with you. This is a horrible adjustment, but better she does it now. 

Emily’s just waiting for tears.

“Em-wy…” 

“It’ll be fun, okay? There’s so much to do! Colouring, painting, dancing, nap time. They’ll make you lunch, and your new friends will have games to play–” She strokes Jane’s arm. “Sound fun?” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“I’ll miss you…” Jane mumbles, her eyes finally growing shiny. 

Emily’s honestly not expecting it. “Well, I’ll miss you more. But mommy will pick you up soon,” —you aren’t working the full day— “and you’ll see me at dinner time, okie dokie?” 

“I’m not…” Jane looks lost for what to say. She’s very, very little. Emily isn’t surprised. 

“I know it’s different, but it’s not bad.” Emily tilts her head to the side, giving Jane her gentlest smile. She’s learned all her motherly tricks from you. It’s easy to fall into that tone of voice, that same affection, because Emily adores Jane. 

“Em-wy,” Jane mumbles again. 

“Janie,” she says, copying Jane’s warbling voice. “Baby, I swear it will be great, and then mommy will pick you up and I will buy you whatever big girl dinner you want. We could have McDonald’s.” 

She whispers the last part. 

Jane smiles slowly. “Okie dokie.”

Emily should’ve guessed that Jane wouldn’t cry. She’s a funny little kid, quiet and sweet and a teeny bit slow to understand. Perhaps she’ll cry once Emily’s already gone. 

“Okay. Do you want a cuddle before I leave?” 

Jane nods, tucking her face into Emily’s front. Emily wraps her arms around her and breathes in the smell of the lavender conditioner you’d run through her hair last night. “Love you, babe,” Emily whispers. 

“Love you too.”

—

Emily thankfully gets home. Hotch laughs at her eagerness to not work, remarking that somehow you’d made a family of a woman determined not to be tied down. He had a point —Emily didn’t realise she wanted a wife until she met you. Didn’t realise she wanted a daughter until she met Jane, though she’s had her whims and whiles about it. 

This is real. 

You hear the door and hurry to it. Emily’s barely out of her shoes when you find her, in your smart clothes yourself, a chocolate smudge on your cheek. 

“Where’s the fire?” Emily asks. 

“Thank you for this morning,” you say, taking her hands. 

Emily softens as you rub her fingers. “You’re welcome. Did she– was she okay? She looked extremely worried for a baby.” 

“She’s not a baby.” You lean forward and to one side, just touching her. “Emily, you– I was so worried, I thought she’d take it hard but you really pulled a magic trick. She didn’t even cry when I picked her up. When I asked how her day was, she told me you promised it would be fun… and that you were going to get her McDonald’s.” 

“I will get her McDonald’s.” 

You take a swift, soft kiss. “My hero. She told me she missed me, but guess who she mentioned first?” 

Emily raises her eyebrows. 

“Mm-hm,” you hum, pulling her to the kitchen. “Em-wy, of course.”

Emily squeezes your hand as you both enter the kitchen to find the source of your kissed cheek. Jane sits at the table in lavender pyjamas to match the smell of her hair. She’s eating chocolate covered strawberries and celery with peanut butter, spread on her hands and lips, but less on her cheeks than her mom. 

“Baby, look! Guess who’s home?” 

Jane finds Emily with her gaze and gasps happily, clapping, a strawberry falling in the gap of her chest and table. “You’re back!”

“I’m back! You’re home, too! Did you have fun?” 

There’s a suspicion in Jane’s expression that she’s too young for, as though she’s guessed this whole daycare business is permanent, but she shrugs it off. “I miss you,” she says. 

“I’m back,” Emily reminds her. “I can see where mommy got her kiss from, that looks yummy.” 

You wipe your cheeks with two palms and bring them down to find chocolate melted against your fingers. “Thanks for telling me.” 

“I had plans to help you eventually.” Emily rounds the table and chair to tip Jane’s head back gently, looking her over. “You okay? Did you have a good day?” 

“Good day,” she echoes. 

“You’re happy?” Emily asks. 

She’d realised how nervous she was for your girl the second she left the daycare building. What if Jane hates it, and she cries the whole day and makes her eyes sore? Emily hadn’t enjoyed thinking about it, deciding she’d get her more than McDonald’s. 

“I’m glad you had a good day,” Emily says. 

“I fed Sergio!” Jane tells her. 

Sir-joe must be a pretty happy cat. “Thank you, babe, you’re the bestest.” 

You aren’t jealous but eager as you slide into Emily’s side and under her arm. You smile as you rest your face on her shoulder, a little cat-like yourself as your breathing evens. “She saved the day.” 

Jane looks up at you both, but her eyes meet Emily’s as she smiles. “Missed you, mommy,” she says. 

Emily’s heart skips a beat, wondering, just for a moment, if Jane was talking to her. Emily wouldn’t mind it. It wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

You nab a strawberry from Jane’s plate. Emily’s expecting it, but she’s still too happy to talk as you kiss her cheek. “Got you back.”

[makeitmingi]

Destined To Be A Girl Dad

Genre: Romance, Comedy, Cute, Fluff

Pairing: San x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Mom!Reader, Dad!San, Daughter (Choi Haeun)

Summary: When San found out you were pregnant with a girl, he could not be happier. You knew that she'll have him wrapped around her tiny finger but he'll gladly be a fool for his princess. And from the moment she was born, he prove it to be true.

Word count: 8K

Warning(s): Mentions of bodily fluids, giving birth, medical procedures, postpartum hemorrhage, (y/n)'s very stressed, scared, anxious and overwhelmed.

[A/N: This is a little 'flashback' chapter to when Haeun was born. I came across a lot of parents showing their newborn daughter and the dad's reactions just reminded me of San so much.]

San was rudely woken up by the sunlight that was streaming in through the gap in the curtains. Before he could even wake his brain, he got out of bed and went to close the curtains. He turned to make sure the sun wasn't bothering you. Thankfully, you were still fast asleep, unbothered by the sun.

"I love you." He leaned over to kiss your head, eyes scanning you to make sure you were comfortable and okay.

"San, I'm fine." You mumbled into your pillow, having felt his gaze on you despite being asleep. San chuckled, pressing his forehead against your temple lovingly.

"Just wanted to make sure you're comfy and safe, baby." He kissed your cheek.

"I'm the size of a whale, I don't even know what it's like to be comfortable anymore." You groaned.

"Don't say that about my princess. She's perfect, you're perfect." He laid down beside you, letting your rest your head on his arm. It was the best was to have you close to him since your belly was in the way.

"At this point, I just want my water to break already." You sighed in slight frustration.

"She'll come when she's ready. I know it's hard, baby. I'm sorry." He pouted, rubbing your arm.

"Want me to massage your feet or get you something?" He offered. With you going to give birth soon, your ankles have been swelling and bothering you so San has been very kind in giving you foot rubs whenever he can.

"No, can you just hold me?" You asked.

"Of course I can do that." San let you move on your own at your own pace to get yourself comfortable. You tilted your body so you could press your face against his chest.

"This should make you more relaxed." San whispered, reaching up to massage the back of your neck and shoulders.

"That feels good. You take such good care of us and she isn't even here yet." You melted into his touch.

"She's not born yet but she's here, she's a part of you. And I'll always take care of you and princess." San chuckled. With the massage and the sound of San's heartbeat, you slowly fell back asleep again.

"Sleep well." He stroked your hair.

Since you were due soon, San had taken some time off work. He still did his practices but there was less travelling just in case you went into labour.

Another thing is that ever since your pregnancy started, San has become a very light sleeper. He was always hyper vigilant and aware of your movements. Not that you wanted him to help you 24/7, he was just worried, he couldn't help it. So when he felt you stir and struggle to sit up, he opened his eyes.

"What do you need, baby?" San asked, sitting up just as you managed to stand on your feet and get out of bed.

"I'm just going to get more water, my bottle is empty. Go back to sleep, Sannie. I can manage it on my own." You giggled and put on your house slippers.

"I can get it for you, baby. I should have filled up your bottle for you before going to bed." He said.

"San, it's really okay. I can get my own water. And you did fill up my bottle, I just drank it all." You assured with a soft smile.

"Okay, call me if you need help." San told you. You hummed and left your shared bedroom to go to the kitchen. He didn't go back to sleep, he just sat there, waiting for a bit before going to help you.

"Sannie, do you want coffee?" You asked.

"I'm good, baby. I want you back in bed with me." He replied. He could hear you laughing.

CLANG!

"Baby!" San shot out of bed and rushed to the kitchen. You were standing there, the glass of water that was in your hand was shattered on the ground. You winced, knees starting to wobble as you held your back.

"Sorry." You groaned amidst the pain that you were in. Now San was worried you hurt yourself.

"It's okay, it's okay. Come. Careful." Holding both your hands in his, San guided you over the broken glass. He was grateful you were wearing the slippers Seonghwa bought you.

"Did the glass get you?" He sat you down and checked you, looking for any signs that you were cut from the glass.

"No, it hurts." You held your back.

"Braxton Hicks?" He bent down in front of you, helping you to rub your back. San knew that you have been having Braxton Hicks since you were going into labour soon.

"No, Sannie. I think it's real. The Braxton Hicks have never hurt so badly and it never reaches my back." You groaned.

"Oh........ OH!" It took a while for your words to sink in as San jumped to his feet.

"We should go to the hospital. Or should I call an ambulance? What should I do?!" He asked.

"Sannie, calm down. It's okay, breathe. It just started so we don't have to go to the hospital yet. But I should start timing how long they last and the intervals between them." You squeezed his hand as you reminded him of what the doctor told you, trying to maintain a smile as you felt him beginning to panic.

"Right, right. I'll help you. Let me clean up the glass first." San was reluctant to let go of your hand but the broken glass on the floor was a hazard to both you and him.

"I'm sorry I made a mess and can't even help clean it up." You sighed.

"No need to apologise, baby. You're in labour. You just focus on yourself and princess." He looked at you with an excited smile.

"You're such a goof." You chuckled. San shot you a flat look with a playful pout before returning back to cleaning. After he was done, San escorted you back to bed to rest.

"Are you timing your contractions? Are they getting more intense?" He asked as he retrieved towels.

"Still manageable." You groaned.

"Alright, come here, baby." San laid out the towels for them, knowing you would be stressed out if your water broke all over the sheets and the mattress.

"Careful. Easy..." He cooed, adjusting your pillow for you so you were comfortable.

"Shall I get you some food? A drink?" He asked.

"No but after the princess comes, I want a big coffee. A BIG coffee, Choi San." You held his collar to show how serious you were. With your pregnancy, you had to severely cut down on your coffee intake, which you did not really like.

"Of course, baby. Anything you want." He kissed the top of your head and went out to the kitchen to fix you snack. You did your best to stay distracted, watching San fancams on your iPad.

"Hey! I'm here!" You heard noises outside and put the iPad down. In came Wooyoung with a big grin.

"So, how's my god daughter doing?" He asked, reaching over to hug you.

"She's not here yet but soon, she'll be here in our arms. Just a little more." You chuckled, patting his back. Wooyoung was also very involved in your pregnancy.

"Even with the man right here, in the flesh, you're still watching his fancams?" He raised an eyebrow, seeing your iPad.

"It distracts me, okay?" Your cheeks heated up, closing the iPad before San could come in.

"Well, it definitely distracts you in one way because that's how my god daughter got here. And perhaps my future god children." He teased and you slapped his arm in embarrassment.

"Anyway, I brought you some food. San's too panicked to cook now but you should get some food in you." He told you. You laughed and nodded your head. Just then, San came in with a tray, plating up the food that Wooyoung had brought along with him. He placed it on the bed for you.

"Come on." Both San and Wooyoung helped you sit up properly so you could eat, even if San insisted on feeding you.

"Ah... Damn it." You cursed under your breath as another contraction hit you. San rubbed your back and let you squeeze his hand until the wave of pain would pass.

"So, how long can this last? Or rather, how long should it last until you go to the hospital?" Wooyoung asked.

"Dude, did you not read the parenting books I got you?" San asked his best friend in disbelief.

"Look, I tried my best to read two! I couldn't continue reading the other five." Wooyoung groaned and whined. You laughed and patted San's shoulder.

"It's fine. Basically, we time how long they last and the intervals between them. Then we go to the hospital." You replied.

"I already texted our OBGYN that the labour has started. She's ready when you are." San informed.

"When I am ready? More like when your daughter is ready." You chuckled. San cooed and kissed your temple. Even if you were full, you tried to eat at least half of what Wooyoung brought you. And you made sure both Wooyoung and San ate too.

"Trust me, you'll both need your energy too." You told them, holding the wall and slowly walking around. San had his bowl in his hand, his other hand held out to support you in case you fell.

"San, eat your food. It's fine, I'll manage on my own for a few minutes." You assured.

"No, I'd rather just be here by your side." He shook his head as he chewed his food.

"Is your go bag packed?" Wooyoung asked.

"Oh, I need my phone charger and the book from my nightstand." You replied. San was going to go but Wooyoung held his hand out to stop him, going into your room to retrieve the items for you.

"Don't know if you're going to be able to get much reading done with the princess here." San laughed.

"That's why I have you and Woo, right?" You joked.

"That's right. I am not leaving my princess' side." Wooyoung declared as he came out with your items, tucking them into the bag that you had packed and ready on the couch.

"You mean, my princess." San corrected with a glare. Wooyoung rolled his eyes. You laughed with a shake of your head. If the two were already fighting before your daughter was born, you can only imagine how much worse it was going to be when she actually gets here. Not the mention, the 6 other uncles waiting.

"She's not even here yet and you two-" You stopped mid sentence as you felt a pop.

"What?" San asked in confusion and worry. Until you both looked down and saw the trickle of liquid go down your leg.

"I think now's a good time to go to the hospital." San said and you nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up. You were frozen in your spot as the trickle was consistent.

"Text my parents. Tell them her water broke and we're going to the hospital now." San told Wooyoung as he pulled on clothes and grabbed you a hoodie that he knew would keep you comfortable.

"What's wrong, baby? Does it hurt?" San frowned, wondering why you haven't moved.

"It's dripping..." You mumbled, hiding your face in your hands.

"Hey, it's okay. It's okay, it's normal." San hugged you, rubbing your back. Tears welled up in your eyes, you didn't know what was happening, you just couldn't handle it.

"It's so embarrassing, I'm going to die." You cried. Even if you expected this to happen and knew it was going to happen, it still felt so embarrassing to have your bodily fluids leak out of you, especially in front of Wooyoung.

"(y/n), listen to me. This is normal, you're giving birth. There's nothing to be embarrassed about." Wooyoung assured.

"It's alright, hmm? Don't worry." San kissed your cheek, wiping your tears away. You nodded tearfully and squeezed San's hand as he slipped your shoes on for you and guided you out of the house.

"Careful, easy." San placed a towel on the passenger seat for you to sit before loading up the car and driving to the hospital.

"Oww..." You took deep breaths, feeling the pain become more intense and frequent.

"Sir, you can't park here." The guard said as San stopped his car.

"I know! I know! But my wife is in labour, can you help her? I'll move my car right after." San came out and opened your door. He watched as the guard called nurses to come with the gurney.

"I'll see you inside, baby." San squeezed your hand. You nodded and shot him a small smile before he got in the car and went to park.

Of course, you were slightly freaked out that you were now alone and without San, you were scared and nervous. But a part of you didn't want to make him panic even more so you took a deep breath and tried your best to calm yourself down, telling yourself that he'll be back by your side soon.

"Hey, (y/n)." Your OBGYN came into your delivery room. Since your water broke, the nurses brought you to the delivery room right away instead of checking you into a ward.

"Dr Min, I'm glad to see a familiar face." You smiled tearfully.

"Hey, I'm here for you and your baby. You're in safe hands." She patted your shoulder and began to check you.

"San's parking the car but he said he got you up to speed on everything? My brain's just a little foggy now." You admitted honestly, watching her put on her gloves.

"Yes, he did. Don't worry. I'll just check you now to see how dilated yet." She told you.

"I'm here! Is she born yet?!" San burst into the room, breathing heavily. The nurses in the room giggled at his outburst.

"Sannie, shhh. No, she's not born yet." You chuckled, opening your arms for him. As San made his way over, he smiled at Dr Min and gave you a hug.

"Looks like we're getting there but not yet. We'll have to wait a little more." Dr Min said, standing back up and removing her gloves to throw them into the bin. You let out a long, defeated sigh and San stroked your head.

"Thanks, Dr Min." San bowed his head.

"Don't be discouraged. Baby girl will be here soon." Dr Min smiled softly at you. You nodded and waved as she left the room. San pulled up a chair so he could stay by your side as the wait began.

"Are you sure you don't want anything for the pain?" San asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm okay. It's all on our princess, we'll wait until she's ready." You said, reaching up to hold his face in your hands.

"But you're in pain and I don't like seeing you in pain." He kissed your hand. One of the options that you and San had discussed was inducing or speeding up the birth but you wanted to push through.

"You're so strong, baby. You're a good omma." He smiled softly, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb.

"You do whatever makes you feel comfortable, okay? It's your decision." He assured.

"Thanks, Sannie. I just feel better with you here." You said. There was no other person you would rather have a child with. San was always there for you, always supportive and encouraging. He never pushed you to do anything you didn't want to do, he trusts your instinct and decisions for both yours and your daugher's wellbeing.

"You know I'll always be here for you and for the princess." He pressed your hand against his cheek.

"I just want her to be okay." You teared up. Hearing your suddenly serious words, San stood up from his seat, leaning over you. His eyes searched yours.

"Hey, hey. Where's all this coming from? Baby, you'll be okay. Both you and princess will be okay. I've got you both." He frowned.

"I know, I just suddenly feel so scared." You rubbed your eyes like a little child crying to her parent.

"It's normal to be scared. But don't be. Dr Min and everyone will take care of you." He comforted. As another contraction hit, you winced and squeezed San's hand. He rubbed your back soothingly.

"Let me get you some water. Breathe, baby." San poured cold water into a cup for you and held the straw out for you to drink.

"Thank you." You coughed slightly and grabbed a towel you bought to wipe your tears and sweat.

"Princess, I know you're comfy in there but omma is dealing with a lot of pain. Be a good girl and make it easy for omma." San said, pressing his ear to your stomach like he always did throughout the pregnancy. You ran your fingers through his hair.

"Ooh, she did not like that." San chuckled as both you and him felt her move and kick where his ear was. San pouted at your daughter but still planted a kiss to your belly.

"I'm gonna miss her kicks." San pouted at you.

"Alright, I don't know what you're implying but slow down, cowboy." You pushed his forehead.

A few more hours passed with San staying by your side and helping you through the contractions. Your parents and San's parents came, both mothers making sure you were okay and comfortable.

"Okay, omma. Let's see where baby girl is at." Dr Min came in again. San wiped the sweat off your forehead for you.

"Looks like we're ready to start pushing." Dr Min's head popped up.

"We'll be outside. Call us if you need anything." Your mom and Mrs Choi said, leaving the room to give you and San some privacy. They didn't want to overwhelm you further.

"I've got you okay? Don't be afraid, you can do this, baby. I know you can." San looked down at you and you nodded. With the guidance of your OBGYN, you began to push. San squeezed your hand and you tried your best to push. Even when you got tired, all the staff were encouraging to you.

"I can see the head. You're doing great, (y/n). Just a little more." Dr Min told you.

"She's out, she's out." Dr Min announced and clamped the cord, separating your baby from the placenta. You both watched as she handed the baby to the nurse practitioner.

"She's here." San excitedly looked over but still remaind by your side. Even as your daughter let out her first big cry.

"Go, see your princess, comfort her." You patted his hand. All you had to do was deliver the placenta.

"Cut here." The nurse handed San the scissors to cut the umbilical cord. He couldn't even stop the huge grin from forming on his face as he watched his daughter.

"Hi there, it's okay. Appa's got you." San cooed as the nurse placed the baby in his arms.

As much as San wanted to hold her longer, he knew skin to skin with you was more important. So he brought her to you immediately.

"She's perfect." San smiled as he lowered her down to you. You smiled tired and weakly, eyes blinking slowly. And before San could release her into your arms, your eyes closed and your head dropped. San's eyes widened in shock.

"She's hemorrhaging! Doctor!" The nurse yelled and Dr Min ran over as the machines beeped in alarm.

"Baby?! (y/n)!" San yelled out in fear. Your daughter began to cry and San felt tears in his eyes too. What was happening? What was going on? All he could see was your pale face.

"BP dropping. Someone take Mr Choi and the child to another room." Dr Min ordered.

"Please, save my wife." San begged as the nurse led him to another room.

"We will try our best, Mr Choi. Dr Min is the best. But now, you need to have skin on skin with your daughter." The nurse advised calmly and San handed the baby to her.

"Like this?" San removed his shirt, letting the nurse lay the baby against his chest. The moment she did, the baby calmed down.

"Please go save her." San cried. The nurse nodded and left the room. His parents and your parents came in, all panicked. Of course, San wanted this to be a joyous occasion, he waited so long to meet his daughter and now she was here, in his arms. But he just couldn't, knowing you were unconscious.

"What happened?" Your mother asked worriedly.

"I don't know. I think they said she's hemorrhaging. She was fine, all she had to do was deliver the placenta. I shouldn't have left her side." San cried.

"San, San. Calm down. (y/n)'s going to be okay. You need to be strong for her and your daughter." Mrs Choi told him.

"Okay." San took deep breaths. He and his daughter seemed to be able to calm each other down.

"She'll be okay." Your mother assured, wiping San's tears. San looked down at the baby that was sleeping on his chest. He gently kissed the top of her head.

"Omma will be okay." He whispered. Soon, another nurse came in with a baby basinet.

"How's my wife?" San asked.

"I'm sorry, sir. I don't know. I need to bring the baby for her checks." The nurse apologised. San didn't want to let his daughter go, even with his mother around, he felt like your baby was the only thing that could comfort him now.

"Can it wait?" San pleaded. The nurse looked conflicted, unsure of what she should do.

"I'm sorry. But if there was a birth complication, we need to check. I promise I'll bring her back as soon as possible." The nurse said. San reluctantly handed the baby to her.

"Mr Choi?" Dr Min came in and San immediately stood up, even when his shirt wasn't fully buttoned up yet.

"Doc, how is she?" San felt like he couldn't breathe.

"She's fine. Out of the woods. Bleeding after birth is normal but she bled a lot. But don't worry, she's okay. She's recovering. I'll need to keep her here for a few days longer though." She informed.

"Of course, anything. We'll stay for as long as she'll need. Thank you so much." San bowed deeply to the doctor.

"Now go be with your wife. I had the nurses send her up to your ward already." Dr Min smiled and San went up to the ward where you were wheeled up to.

When San entered, you were fast asleep, probably tired for the birth and the huge loss of blood. But San knew you were a fighter. He hovered over you and kissed your forehead, feeling another round of tears threaten to fall. Obviously he didn't know the severity of the bleed but he knew he almost lost you.

"I love you. Thank you." He pressed his head against yours. As he took a chair to sit, he held your hand the entire time.

"You did good, baby. You did so good, you deserve to rest. She's perfect, an angel just like you. Sleep for as long as you want." San said to you, even though you were asleep.

When you woke up, you looked around in confusion. Until your eyes fell upon San, walking around with a bundle in his arms, singing softly.

"Look who it is, baby girl." San turned and realised you were awake.

"San..." You began to cry. San put your daughter back in her basinet and came over to you.

"It's okay, you're okay. I got you. I got you." He hugged you tightly, his hand resting on the back of your head. You cried into his shoulder and San felt a lump in his throat too.

"You did so good, baby." San continued to comfort you for as long as you needed.

"Can I see her?"

"Of course you can, baby! You're her mom!" San laughed and went over to pick up the baby that was beginning to fuss. But as San gently laid her on your chest, the baby calmed down. She blinked up at you and you smiled softly.

"Hi there. You're so cute... You're perfect. Did you name her yet?" You cooed and looked up at San, who was smiling at both of you. He shook his head.

"You should name her. You've let me make a lot of decisions in the pregnancy, you should name her." You told him.

"Baby, I let you make those decisions because it was your body, you were the one going through the pregnancy, not me." San laughed.

"But I do have one name that I like. Haeun." He added.

"Haeun, Choi Haeun. I like it. It's perfect for her. Welcome to the world, Haeunnie." You smiled at her. San gave you a kiss then kissed the top of Haeun's head.

Since you woke up, San called Dr Min to come and check on you. At the same time, the nurse taught you how to feed Haeun.

"You gave us a scare earlier but you're fine now, (y/n). Nothing major. However, I was mentioning that I would need you to stay in a little longer just for observations." Dr Min explained. You nodded obediently, too preoccupied with staring at your daughter that was drinking from you hungrily.

"Thanks, Dr Min." You and San bowed your heads as she took her leave. You smiled softly, watching Haeun grasp your finger in her hand as she drank.

"You must have been hungry, my love." You cooed.

"She has a big appetite like her dad." San grinned proudly at you, making you scoff.

After Haeun had her fill, she fell asleep. You couldn't get up so the nurse came in to help you with cleaning her and changing her diaper before wrapping her up in a swaddle.

"Oh, so that's how you do it." San said, looking over at the nurse's actions, his glasses on as he took notes on his phone.

"Hey, grandpa. Can I get a glass of water, please?" You teased. San's head whipped around to glare at you.

"You're lucky you're cute." He glared with a pout as he handed you the water. You grinned cheekily as the nurse placed the swaddled Haeun in the basinet and wheeled her by your side. But San constantly hovered over her.

"Let her sleep. Nothing will happen with her a few inches away from us." You chuckled. You and San enjoyed each other's silence, well it was more like San not being able to take his eyes off Haeun.

"Knock knock." The door opened and Wooyoung poked his head in with the others, all carrying flowers, gift baskets and balloons.

"She's sleeping." San quickly shushed everyone.

"Sorry, overprotective dad over here." You snickered. Hongjoong held up a huge cup of iced coffee for you and you swear you nearly cried at the sight.

"Lifesaver." You whispered gratefully and received the cup in your hands to take a big sip.

"Slow down, baby. You shouldn't finish it in one go." San stopped you, placing his hand to push the cup away from you.

"I pushed a bowling ball out of me. Please just let me have this." You begged. San sighed in defeat and let go, letting you enjoy your coffee. But of course, you did heed his advice and drank slowly.

"Oh my gosh... She's the most perfect little angel." Wooyoung cooed, trying to contain his squeal, leading to him slapping Seonghwa's shoulder. Seonghwa hissed and pushed Wooyoung away. Before they could all get too close, San stepped between them and the basinet, pointing to the sink.

"Wash first." San ordered.

"How are you?" Jongho asked, taking a seat by your side. You assumed San had told everyone about the complication after birth.

"I'm okay now. I think it gave all of us a scare but the doctor stopped the bleeding and I'm fine, just have to stay in here a little longer for observation." You shrugged.

"That's good." Yeosang hummed. You watched as San reluctantly let the boys carry Haeun.

"She's so cute when she sleeps." Yunho cooed over Wooyoung's shoulder.

"I have a feeling everything she does is going to be cute to all of you." You laughed. You trusted San to watch out for Haeun and help the boys properly hold her so you could relax.

"You should rest more. I'm sure you've been through the wringer. We brought you food too." Mingi told you, adjusting your blanket properly. You smiled gratefully, watching Seonghwa take a rice porridge out of the container for you.

"We didn't even ask her name yet." Seonghwa said, wheeling the table close to you so you could eat.

"Her name is Haeun, Choi Haeun." San smiled proudly.

"What a perfect name for a perfect princess." Wooyoung cooed softly at the baby in his arms. After a bit, Haeun woke up and began crying. San patted your hand and went to retrieve her from Wooyoung.

"Don't worry, appa's got you." He swayed, patting her back softly to soothe her.

"He's got it. Eat up, get your energy back." Jongho encouraged. You took a spoon and began eating, glacing over at San and Haeun.

"We should go, give you three time to rest." Hongjoong said, checking his watch. The boys came over to give you hugs while San watched with a frown.

"Stop hugging my wife." He whispered harshly, careful not to disturb the now calm Haeun. Only when he placed her back in the basinet, he happily hugged the members who congratulated him again.

"I can't believe she's finally here. The princess is finally here." San let out little squeaks of happiness as Wooyoung hugged him. Wooyoung nodded with a soft laugh and patted San's back. Everyone was waiting for your baby's arrival, even more so when it was announced that you were having a girl.

"We'll see you soon. Take care." Yunho waved as the boys all left.

"She's asleep, Sannie. You can put her down." You chuckled. San looked up at you with a disappointed smile.

"You can watch her. I want cuddles." You held your arms up. At that, San placed Haeun down and came to you. Luckily the hospital bed was big enough.

"Are you feeling ill? You have to tell me or inform the nurse." He said as you laid on his chest.

"I'm fine, Sannie." You squeezed his arm, snuggling closer to him. San He reached over you and rubbed your back.

"I love you. You did so good, baby. Thank you so much for giving me my princess. Really, thank you. I can't thank you enough." San repeated, planting many kisses on your head.

"There's nothing to thank me for, San. I'm lucky to have you with me and to be the one to have your daughter, you've been the perfect partner. You're such a great dad, she's lucky that she'll have you to raise her." You smiled up at him.

"You always speak so lowly of yourself, my love. I'm lucky to have you and her now. And she has the best mom in the whole wide world. So she's pretty lucky." He said.

"Yeah." You nodded, the both of you looking over at your sleeping child.

"Is it weird that I already love her so much? Like looking at her makes my heart hurts." San asked.

"Not weird, that's called being whipped. Or being a fool for your daughter. She's a few hours old and already has you wrapped around her tiny finger." You lifted up your pinky finger.

"Don't make fun of me." He whined.

"But she's finally here, San. She was inside of me and now, she's right there. She's laying there, sleeping, breathing on her own." You said.

"All thanks to you, baby. Now, you should continue to rest. You're not 100% yet, take all the time you need to recover." San reached over to lower the lights so you could sleep. Since you were still feeling weak, it didn't take long for the tiredness to wash over you and you fell asleep in San's hold.

You were woken up by Haeun's crying but San already jumped out of bed, going to her to scoop her up into his arms. As you turned up the lights, you watched San try to soothe her.

"She could be hungry." You rubbed your eyes tiredly.

"Are you okay to feed her? We can use formula if you still feel weak." San asked with a worried frown.

"I'm fine. I just need the pillow." You said. San nodded and let you carry Haeun while he put the 'U' shaped pillow under Haeun and around your waist so you wouldn't have to carry her full weight.

"Is this okay?" San asked, adjusting the pillow properly. You hummed and fed a fussing Haeun.

"Good girl, Haeun. It's okay." You stroked her head as she drank from you hungrily.

"My poor baby must be tired." San came and reached over, cupping your cheeks. You smiled tiredly, knowing that this is going to be your routine for a while. But it was comforting to see Haeun peacefully drinking and staring up at you.

"Awww, now you're nice and full, aren't you, angel?" You cooed as she released you so you could cover yourself up. Since you were still feeling weak, San helped you with changing her diaper.

"Post birth poops are awful." You groaned.

"Nonsense, my princess' poop doesn't smell at all." San grinned dreamily, cooing at Haeun who squirmed.

"There we go. All done." San gently lifted her up, pressing a kiss to her cheek before placing her back into your arms. Haeun stared at you and you smiled at her.

"Your dad has become such a fool for you, hmm?" You tapped her cheek and she grasped your finger.

"Don't call me a fool in front of her." San scoffed. You smiled cheekily and San reached over to pinch your cheeks for teasing him.

"She's asleep." You shushed San.

"You should sleep too, baby." San waited for you to be ready to hand Haeun over him. Once you did, he placed her back into the basinet and tucked you back into bed, getting in beside you. He couldn't sleep without you by his side too. San softly sang to you until you fell back to sleep.

And over the next few days, San took great care of you and Haeun. He prioritised your recovery and took over so many tasks, making sure you were not pushing yourself.

"Hello?" Wooyoung came in.

"Shh, they both just went to sleep." You said from your spot on the couch, nodding over to where San was asleep in your hospital bed.

"Stealing the patient's bed?" Wooyoung tilted his head with a snort as he looked at his best friend. Despite being asleep, San's hand rested on the edge of Haeun's basinet.

"How are you?" Wooyoung asked, sitting beside you.

"A lot better. Can't wait to discharge tomorrow. But I couldn't have done it without Sannie, he's been taking great care of us." You smiled.

"He is a good partner and dad." Wooyoung agreed with a hum. With San and Haeun sleeping, Wooyoung decided to cut up some fruit for you to eat.

"I'm grateful that Haeun is such an angel baby and I'm not just saying that because I'm her mother. She's so patient and loving, rarely cries except for milk or diaper changes. But I can 100% say, she's a daddy's girl for sure." You giggled.

"Of course she is. San must be ecstatic." Wooyoung rolled his eyes.

"I haven't seen the smile leave his face since the day she was born. Everything she does, he thinks it's the best thing since sliced bread." You smiled at a sleeping San.

"He's a fool for her already. But I can't blame him, she's perfect." Wooyoung shrugged and you pushed his shoulder.

"You are just as big of a fool for her." You accused. But deep down, you were glad that Haeun is going to grow up with love from everyone.

"Look who is awake." You were washing your hands when you realised Haeun had woken up and was just laying there without making a fuss.

"Uncle Wooyoung is here to see you, baby." You lifted Haeun out of the basinet and kissed her cheeks.

"Ack. Luckily we're in a hospital because she's going to give me a heart attack." Wooyoung fangirled as you placed Haeun in his arms.

"Haeun." San shot up, having realised the basinet moved slightly from when you picked Haeun up. His sudden movement had made you jump. He sat up and looked around in slight panic, only to see Wooyoung holding Haeun. He let out a sigh of relief and you went over, standing between his legs.

"She's fine, appa. Wooyoung's got her." You chuckled, running your hands through his messy hair. San put his arms around you to hug you and pressed his face against your middle.

"I didn't even know I fell asleep." He murmured.

"You've been working so hard, taking care of us. You deserve to rest too, Sannie." You comforted him.

"Look at your parents. They're gonna make uncle Woowoo puke." You both looked up to see Wooyoung talking to Haeun, holding her in a way that elevated her to see you two.

"She's smiling." You pointed at Haeun's brief, lopsided smile.

"She just loves uncle Woowoo the most." Wooyoung cooed. San didn't take too well to that comment and marched over.

"My baby." He emphasised, taking Haeun out of Wooyoung's arms. He smiled down at her, planting a kiss to her head. You just shook your head at them.

When it was time to feed Haeun, Wooyoung took his leave. As you sat against the headboard to feed Haeun, San massaged your feet, noting that your ankles were still slightly swollen so he put on compression socks for you.

"Are you still feeling sick?" He asked worriedly.

"No, I feel fine actually. So we can go home tomorrow." You smiled excitedly, looking down at Haeun.

"A-Are you sure? Because if you don't feel right, you should stay for a few more days until you're sure you're 100% well again. Maybe we should speak to Dr Min." San suggested.

"Sannie..." Luckily Haeun finished feeding so you could put her back in her basinet. You moved closer to San.

"What's wrong, Sannie?" You cupped his cheeks with a concern frown. You searched his eyes and all you saw was fear in them.

"I was just really scared. When you lost consciousness, there was so much blood. The doctor and nurses were rushing..." San struggled to breathe and you hugged him, letting him lean on your shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Sannie..." You hugged his head.

"I thought I was going to lose you..." He muttered softly, hands gripping your waist. You rarely see San cry so seeing him cry and be so vulnerable around you was indicative of how scared he really was. And for San, he always believed that he has to be your rock so he really tried to keep it in.

"You've been through a lot too, Sannie. But we're here for you, both me and Haeun. You don't have to go through this alone." You stroked the back of his head.

"You won't lose me, lose us, so quickly. I love you." You lifted his head and gave him a kiss, caressing his cheek.

"I love you too." San wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to sit on his lap.

"Baby girl's smiling at us." San chuckled. You lifted your head from his chest to see Haeun looking at the both of you, squirming in her wrap but her head turned to smile at you and San.

"Our baby. That's our baby." You smiled softly and San turned his head to meet your eyes, nodding in agreement.

"I still can't believe she's here. No more talking to her through the tummy." San chuckled.

"Well, before you know it, she'll be able to reply to you when you actually talk to her." You said. At your words, San held his chest dramatically, squeezing his eyes shut like he was going to implode at the thought of Haeun growing up.

"Alright, appa... Breathe. Don't have a heart attack here or I'll need to call the nurses." You patted his arm. San pursed his lips and just pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

"Thank you so much, Dr Min." You said as you hugged the doctor, who patted your back.

"Take care of yourself, (y/n)." She chuckled.

"Do we have everything? I feel like we're forgetting something." You heard San in your room, trying to pack up everything, making you and Dr Min giggle.

"You and baby girl will be just fine." Dr Min squeezed your shoulder and left while you entered your ward.

"Everything okay in here?" You asked.

"Just fine, baby. Whatever we forget, we can buy again. As long as I have princess and you, that's most important." San grinned, holding the baby carrier basket with Haeun sleeping soundly inside.

"Want me to carry her? Or get the bags?" You offered. San shook his head, holding Haeun away from you as if you will steal her and run. Even if the doctor cleared you, San didn't believe you were entirely recovered so he didn't want you doing any heavy lifting or anything strenuous. You just walked beside him.

"Also, baby. Even though the news is out that baby girl is born, KQ says that they'll do whatever it takes to keep her picture and name out of the press." San informed.

"Great, remind me to send them a thank you basket." You chuckled as you both walked to the car.

"Are you excited to finally go home with us, princess?" San cooed to Haeun.

"You're asleep and probably don't care as long as there's milk, right?" He continued to talk to her as he loaded the basket into the car seat inserts that he had already installed previously.

"She's so cute when she sleeps." You adjusted her blanket as you sat in the backseat with her while San drove.

"She's cute doing anything, please. She's our child, of course she's cute." San scoffed from the front seat and you shot him a flat look.

You stifled a laugh to yourself, imaging how things are going to be when Haeun grows up, she'll definitely be leading her father by his nose. Well, in his defense, he did warn you about how he would be if you got pregnant with a girl.

"We're home, princess. Home sweet home." San cooed as he helped to remove the carrier from the seat clips. You unlocked the door to your home and took a deep breath.

"Feels good to be home." You let out a content sigh. San chuckled and leaned over to kiss your cheek.

"I need a shower." You groaned. San hummed and let you go. But you didn't want to shower too long, wanting to relieve San for a bit.

"Sannie, I'm-" You came out of the shower to see him fast asleep on the couch, sitting up and holding Haeun to his chest, who was also still asleep.

"Aww, look at you two." You whispered and took your phone to snap a picture, a smile on your face.

Only when Haeun woke up and fussed then San woke up, immediately patting her back to try and soothe her.

"It's okay, appa. Take a break, I've got her." You smiled and took Haeun from him. San nodded with a tired smile and leaned back into the couch to rest. You leaned over to kiss the top of his head before walking to get Haeun's diaper changed. Then you checked if she was hungry before feeding her, sitting in your rocking chair.

"My love. You are so beautiful." You gently stroked her head as she drank from you. You softly hummed 'Mist' to her with a soft smile on your face.

"Thank you for being born." You giggled.

When she was done, you burped her and walked around with her in your arms, still humming to her.

"Look at your appa sleeping. He's been taking such good care of us, baby. He'll protect you and love you forever, you're such a lucky girl." You spoke to Haeun, who blinked up at you.

"My two girls." San woke up, stretching his limbs and yawning as he caught you and Haeun.

"You should sleep more, Sannie." You said, sitting by him.

"I'm good. You should rest more, the birth and everything must have been tiring on you." He stroked your head. You handed Haeun over to him, letting her rest on his chest.

"I'll heat up some food for our dinner. You should skin on skin with her if you can. Dr Min says it'll help." You patted his thigh and went to the kitchen to heat up the food that your mother and San's mother had helped stock in the fridge.

"Auh, go to sleep, precious. It's okay to sleep. Appa is here." You could hear San speak to Haeun.

"You're really destined to be a girl dad, San." You stood at the kitchen entrance, seeing San coax Haeun to sleep. He sat there, shirtless with the small baby against his chest.

"I am. I am destined to be this girl's dad." San agreed, smiling down at Haeun, who was slowly going to sleep.

"ATINY will eat this up if they saw you." You joked. San rolled his eyes but still posed for you to take a picture of him to save.

"So, we're establishing here that you'll be the one to discipline her while I'm the good one that comforts her when she cries right?" San grinned cheekily.

"We'll see about that." You scoffed.

"Thank you, baby. For all that you did and went through for my princess to be born." San leaned over to kiss you.

"You know despite everything, I would do it again. Couldn't have asked for a better partner and we know this girl is the luckiest little girl in the world with such an amazing dad and 7 chaotic, silly but great uncles who will always dote on her." You smiled softly and laid your head on San's shoulder.

"Yes, she will definitely grow up with a lot of chaos. I mean, look at her godfather. He's the definition of chaos." He chuckled.

You nodded, San was right but you knew the boys, especially Wooyoung, would make sure your little girl grows up with all the love in the world.

And that proved to be right because after a day of hanging out with Wooyoung, Haeun came back home and said her first word.

"Sannie!" She lifted her arms up with the biggest grin on her face.

"What did you say, baby?" You stifled a laugh. She repeated it again and you saw San freeze, unsure of how to react. She didn't call him 'appa' but his name was her first word.

"She said her first word." You reminded San.

"Still..." San gave you a look. He was big on respect and traditions, he didn't want Haeun going around calling him by his first name.

"No, not Sannie, princess. Appa. Can you say 'appa'?" San pointed to himself, bending down to her height so he would be at her eye level. You were having a field day and didn't have the heart to correct Haeun, she was just so cute.

"Sannie!" She giggled bashfully. San playfully lifted her up, making her squeal with laughter.

"I'm going to kill Jung Wooyoung." San turned to you.

"Sannie! Sannie!" Haeun gleefully wrapped her arms around San's neck, burying her face against his chest.

[tteotlma]

Missed Every Inch

Older Bf!Logan x Reader (3.2kw)

a/n: got this idea based off this post ^ bc i’ve been thinking a lot abt old man logan lately.. so enjoy 3k words of pure smut.

tw: 18+ MDNI, explicit sexual content, overstimulation, rough sex, light degradation/teasing, power dynamics, breeding, kink/multiple orgasms, slightly aggressive behavior (e.g. tearing clothing), cockwarming, heavy on missionary, p in v, pw/op

—

Alternatively, older bf!logan doing the whole “fuck, I missed you” thing when he slides inside you after not being able to for a whole two weeks.

How he ever let that happen he doesn’t know, schedules became hectic, nights became short, and fourteen days later he’s as riled up as a bull seeing red — well not exactly but either way Logan is not about to let this continue any longer.

Sure the both of you had small moments here and there, like your shared morning showers, warm embraces and passionate kisses at the door before either of you left for the day, video calls during lunches that usually ended with Logan teasing you about giving him something to keep him going and you complying by quickly flashing the camera. Giggling shyly when Logan would let out a whistle. And all would be great until you hang up, or leave his sight and he remembers how long it’s been since he’s really felt your true warmth. God the more he thinks about it, the more he’s gonna blow his load right in his plaid pajama pants.

He paces back and forth shirtless in your shared bedroom. He’s been home alone for three hours now, and you messaged him thirty minutes ago saying you were on your way home meaning you should be walking through the front door any second.

He has one hand stroking his chin and the other hand low on his hip trying to decide if he should be nonchalant or just say to hell with it and jump you as soon as you walk in the door.

He hears the door to your shared apartment open, and he jumps out of his skin. He’s acting so out of character but — he’s really desperate. He says to hell with it and he swings open the bedroom door only to run right into you.

“Hi,” You look up at him, with a small smile.

Logan looks at you for a brief moment before he breaks and he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in and using the other hand to cradle the back of your head. He pulls you in for a heated kiss, the kind that ignites the heat in your chest that slowly spreads to the tips of your fingers.

You become pliant in his arms, letting your weight and balance rely solely on Logan as he continues to move his lips against yours. He pulls away for a second allowing you a chance to wrap your arms around his neck and pulling him in closer.

A long moan leaves your lips as he slowly drags his tongue along the inside of your mouth. He gives your tongue a slow and gentle suck before he pulls away.

“Hey baby,” He says, a smug look on his face. He wraps both arms around your waist, hands resting on the swell of your ass as he starts to walk the both of you back into the bedroom.

”What’s gotten into you?” You ask, as he begins to nose at your temple.

“I’m just glad you’re home now.” He says trailing kisses from your temple to your neck. Your hand snakes from around the back of his neck, and slowly trails down before stopping on his bare chest. Your palm catches the faint beating of Logan’s heart rapid, and pulsing.

“Did I make you wait long?” You ask, tilting your head back, a soft sigh leaves your lips as he places tender kisses along the sensitive parts of your neck.

He doesn’t say anything, instead he grabs your hand on his chest, and drags it further down, the heat radiating off his body practically scolding your hand. He brings your hand down his front all the way down to the bulge in his pants.

“You tell me.” He teases, pulling back to look down at you. With one hand still around his neck, keeping him close you take his dick in the other and fondle the man through the thin fabric of his pants.

“Aw,” You coo, “Did I make the poor baby wait too long.” You teased, the motions of your hand unrelenting. A shuddering breath leaves your boyfriend’s lips as his hips buck as much as he tries to hold back.

“Sorry sweetheart,” Logan hooks his hands below the curve of your ass and quickly lifts you off your feet. He swiftly spins you around and tosses you on the bed. “None of that tonight.” He says, grabbing your ankle and yanking you close as he climbs on the bed fitting himself between your thighs.

You let out a loud sigh as his heavy hands clench the clothed flesh of your thighs. His hands trail up to the belt loops of your jeans and he gives them a tug.

“Strip,” He orders. His hand sliding down the front of your legs, hiking your thighs on his hips as he goes to untie the drawstring around his waist. The pants slide down even further, exposing his adonis belt.

You swallow louder than you intended , and he chuckles lowly. You rid your upper half of any thing that could possibly stop the feel of your lover's calloused hands on your body. Logan rips the front of your pants open, tearing the seam and ripping the button off and across to who knows where.

“Oh, babe I really liked those.” You moan out softly, under any normal circumstance you would’ve been upset, but as Logan licks up your stomach as he’s pulling your pants down you figure the pants can come third. You lift your hips and yank the fabric off as Logan finally frees his poor aching cock from the prison that is his pajamas.

He sucks in a deep breath through clenched teeth, and whether it was from pain or pleasure the look on his face was enough to make you cream right then and there. You began to squirm in anticipation, trying to press your thighs together but Logan puts heavy hands on your knees and pries them further apart.

You let him, face flushed and chest panting.

”That’s it babydoll, show me that pretty pussy, hmm?” He teases you, and your face burns bright with embarrassment. You grab his arm as he pulls you flush against his bare skin. His cock slides against your slick folds, and a whine escapes both your lips.

“Fuck.” He grits out as he gyrates his hips, watching in awe as your juices coat his pulsing dick. Your fingers squeeze tighter around his arm.

“Logan.” You breathe out, your hips rising to get more friction.

“Hold on baby, you gotta give me a minute.” He’s out of breath as his hands roam all over the meat of your legs. He hikes your left ankle over his right shoulder and he pulls away.

The both of you breathless, you prop yourself on your elbows and watch as Logan guides the tip of his cock at your entrance. He pauses, leans back on his haunches and looks down at you.

“What are you waiting for, big guy?” You lean in and grab his dick, giving it a few strokes.

“It’s been two weeks and I am not a minute man.” He huffs out, watching the movements of your hand.

”You never have been.” You whisper, guiding the tip inside. Logan shudders as he leans over your body once again. His arms caging you in as his chest heaves. Your ankle slides off his shoulder, as he slowly sinks his dick further into your tight hole.

“Oh yes,” You hum, feeling absolutely stretched. Reaching out to grab Logan’s face you bring him in for a sloppy kiss.

“That’s it baby, give it to me just like that.” You purred, fingers cradling his head, foreheads pressed together, breaths mixing as Logan pulled back slowly, snapping his hips forward.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He moans, and you swallow his words.

Logan's thrusts start slow, deliberate, dragging out each movement as if savoring the feel of you. Every inch of him feels like it’s filling you up completely, and you can’t help the needy whine that escapes your lips. He grunts softly in response, his breath hot against your cheek.

"Missed this too," you whisper between pants, your body rising to meet his rhythm. Each snap of his hips has you keening, your nails digging into his back, urging him for more. Logan’s pace starts to quicken, his control slipping as the tight heat of your body pulls him in deeper.

"Shit... you're so perfect," he groans, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. His mouth trails along your neck, lips brushing over your skin, leaving wet kisses as his hands tighten their grip on your waist, anchoring you to him.

Your thighs tremble around him, your body arching in response as your hands move to grip the sheets. You’re close, so close, the coil in your belly tightening with every deep thrust.

"Logan... please, don't stop," you beg, your voice breathless and needy.

Logan’s breath hitches as you tighten around him, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. He’s right on the edge, but instead of pulling out, he leans over you, his lips brushing your ear. His hand grips your thigh, keeping you locked in place as he pushes back in, slowly, torturously deep.

You whimper, feeling him stretch you all over again, and he moans in response, the sound almost desperate. He pulls out just enough to thrust back in, the head of his cock dragging against that sweet spot that makes you see stars. The rhythm is slow but deliberate, his hips grinding into you with an intensity that has your body arching into him. Each time he pulls back, it’s only to push deeper than before, making you gasp and claw at his back.

"Logan... fuck," you moan, overwhelmed by the feeling of him filling you completely. He’s breathing hard against your neck, his body trembling with the effort to stay in control. But the way his cock moves inside you—deliberate, steady, dragging out the pleasure—makes it clear he’s savoring every second.

His need is palpable now, his body pressing against yours as if he can’t get close enough. "I’ve missed this... missed you so much," he mumbles, his voice hoarse as he picks up the pace just slightly. The sound of your skin meeting fills the room, the slick heat of your bodies moving in sync, every thrust hitting deeper, making you writhe beneath him.

You feel the tension in him, the way his muscles strain as he fights to hold back. But then his control starts to slip, his pace quickening, each thrust harder and faster, his hips snapping into you with a hunger that leaves you breathless. The coil in your belly tightens again, the pleasure building higher and higher, and you know he can feel it too.

"Fuck, you’re so tight," he groans, burying his face in your neck as his hips drive into you harder. His voice cracks with raw need, his movements becoming frantic. He’s so close, teetering on the edge, but instead of letting go, he keeps pushing you both further, refusing to pull out. "I’m not done with you yet," he gasps, his hands gripping your hips, keeping you in place as he thrusts deeper, hitting that perfect spot over and over.

Your body clenches around him, and you cry out, your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave. Logan feels it, groaning as your walls flutter around him, and you think he’s going to come too, but he doesn’t. Instead, he slows just enough to keep himself in control, his hips rocking into you in a rhythm so slow and precise it makes your head spin. He pulls out slightly before pushing back in, bottoming out with every thrust, the sensation keeping you on the edge.

"God, I love you," he mumbles, his voice breaking as he leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. His lips brush against your cheek, your temple, as he keeps up that slow, torturous pace. "I’m so obsessed with you... I need you, baby, I need this," he groans, his voice thick with emotion, as if the feeling of being inside you is overwhelming him.

You can feel him trembling, hear the soft, needy sounds he makes as he moves inside you, and it sends another wave of pleasure through your body. Your hands find his hair, tugging gently as you pull him closer, pressing your lips to his in a sloppy, desperate kiss. "I’m here... I’m yours," you whisper against his lips, your body still shaking from the intensity of your orgasm.

Logan’s thrusts slow even further, until he’s barely pulling out, just rocking into you gently. But every time his cock drags against that sweet spot inside, it sends a jolt of pleasure through you, leaving you trembling. It’s softer now, more intimate, but still just as intense. Your body is so sensitive, every touch, every movement feels like too much and not enough all at once.

His moans turn softer, more broken, and you can feel his control slipping as he edges closer to release. His breath is hot against your ear, his voice hoarse as he whispers, "I can’t stop... you feel so fucking good."

Logan feels you tighten around him with what he thinks is another orgasm, his thrusts becoming purposeful, and he groans deeply, his body shaking as his release crashes into him. His cock throbs inside you, and you feel the warm flood of him filling you up, but just as you expect him to pull out, he surprises you.

“Wait, baby… not yet,” he rasps, his voice rough with need. Before you can respond, his hips push forward again, grinding deep, his cock still hard inside you. The overstimulation sends a jolt of pleasure through your body, and you let out a sob, clutching meekly at him as he starts moving again, slow but firm. The sensation is overwhelming, but Logan’s grip on your hips tightens as if he can’t let go.

You cry, tears forming in your eyes, your body still trembling from your orgasm, but Logan keeps going, his breath ragged and desperate.

“Fuck, I need more,” he mumbles against your skin, his lips brushing over your neck as he starts to thrust again. His movements are a little rough, his need palpable, and you can feel him building up again, his body already close to another release.

He thrusts faster now, deeper, his cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside you, and you can’t help the way your body reacts.

“Oh, Logan~” you cry out, overwhelmed by the feeling of him filling you over and over, the slick sound of your bodies meeting echoing in the room.

He’s panting now, his breath hot against your skin, and you feel him tense up again. His hips slam into you one last time, and he groans deeply, spilling into you for the second time. But even then, he doesn’t stop.

“Oh god… not yet,” he whispers, almost like a plea, his cock twitching inside you as he keeps rocking his hips. His pace slows but doesn’t stop, the overstimulation almost too much to bear, but at the same time, it feels so damn good. His thrusts become shorter, his cock pulling out just enough before pushing back in, keeping him buried deep inside you.

Your body is on fire, sensitive and trembling as Logan chases yet another orgasm. His voice is low, needy, as he presses his forehead to yours, groaning softly.

“I can’t stop… I need to come again… fuck, you feel so good,” he mumbles, almost like he’s talking to himself, completely lost in the sensation of being inside you.

Your legs shake as he thrusts slowly, hitting deep inside you with every roll of his hips. You’re not sure how much more you can take, but the pleasure is overwhelming, and soon, the coil tightens in your belly again. “Logan, I’m gonna—” you cry out, your body tensing as another orgasm rips through you, this one so intense it leaves you seeing stars.

Logan moans with you, his hips snapping forward one last time as he comes again, filling you up even more. His body shakes, his breath heavy as he holds himself deep inside you, his hands gripping your waist tightly like he never wants to let go. You both stay there, trembling and panting, the room filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing.

Even after three orgasms, Logan’s still inside you, his cock softening but not pulling out. He’s so needy, so desperate to stay connected to you. His lips brush against your ear, his voice soft and broken. “I’m obsessed with you,” he whispers, his hips still moving just enough to keep him inside you.

He leans down to lazily kiss you, lips enveloping his. You stroke his hair, running your fingers through the damp strands as you hold him close, your body finally starting to relax. Logan’s breaths begin to even out, his thrusts slowing to a stop, but he stays buried inside, his body pressing down on yours in a protective, possessive way. His arms wrap around you, pulling you in tighter as he rests his forehead against your shoulder, completely spent.

“Still with me?” he mutters, his voice low and gruff in your ear, the heat of his breath sending a shiver through you.

“Barely,” you tease, your fingers still idly combing through his hair as you try to catch your breath.

Logan huffs a small laugh, pulling back just enough to look down at you. There’s a softness in his gaze, a mix of exhaustion and something deeper. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not ready to move yet.”

You smile, the weight of his body grounding you. “Not like I’m complaining.”

He dips down to kiss you again, slower this time, a quiet hum escaping his lips as he pulls you closer. His grip tightens, keeping you pressed together, like he’s savoring every last second of this. He grabs the extra duvet from under the pillows and wraps the blanket around your frames.

“Don’t go falling asleep on me,” he murmurs against your lips, but there’s no urgency in his voice. He’s just as close to passing out as you are.

“I won’t,” you whisper, though your body feels heavy, every muscle finally unwinding.

Eventually, you both roll over, Logan keeping you snug against him, still inside you as he wraps his arms around your waist. The room grows quieter, the sound of your breaths mingling as your heartbeats slow.

“Stay here,” he mumbles, his voice barely a whisper now, almost lost in the haze of sleep. His head rests against your chest, his body relaxing completely.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you reply softly, pressing a kiss to his temple, your hand resting on his back. You can feel the last bit of tension leaving his body as he lets out a deep sigh.

Within moments, you both start to drift off, the warmth of his body against yours pulling you deeper into sleep, completely spent but content.

—

a/n: did i make logan too needy?

[yuvany]

#BAKING WITH ENHYPEN

𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 x female reader ⎯ CONTENT / WARNING(S) :: fluff + est relationship + kisses + not proofread. . . WORD COUNT : 825 . . CHECK BOX .ᐟ

( reblogs + feedback always appreciated !! )

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

You invited him over after seeing a video of a couple bake, and I mean, Heeseung ran over to you as quick as he saw your message. He enters your kitchen, where you had partially laid out all the equiptment and ingredients while he made his way over. He is about to start baking immedietly, but you stop him and tell him that he needs to wash his dirty hands first. "But my love, these hands hold the love I have for you." He pleads, holding his hands out dramatically. "Hee, that's disgusting. Wash your hands." You say, pulling him over to the sink.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

Jay suddenly had an innovative idea of a new pastery and urged you to come over and help him, by that he means observe. "babe, what was your idea?" you asked, seeing him rush into the kitchen and prep it while you slowly follow behind him. "I wanted to make a heart shaped version of your favourite." You chuckle, and begin washing your hands and putting on an apron since you know how he is with hygiene. Turns out it wasn't necessary because you became a kitchen princess. Jay did all the baking unless you asked to help, and let you lick all the utensils with dough and batter while you both washed the dishes together.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

"Jake, are you sure you have sugar?" you ask, and he nods. "Of course I do, even if I didn't, you'd suffice!" He winks, but you shrug it off with a chuckle. The first half of the recipe goes well becuase Jake did in fact have sugar in his pantry. Then you see Layla walk into the kitchen and you figure that you could leave him alone for just a moment, but turn out you were proven incorrect. Jake makes a discovery that he doesn't own a scale, and stop baking for a moment before he gives up on the recipe and free-styles. You return and sees that the batter is all clumpy and discoloured. "What did you do, babe." You ask, and see him smiling tensly.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡

Is very excited becuase he gets to experience what a normal teenage experperience would be like even though he's an adult. Sunghoon looks up many recipes before showing you the one he finds is the more fitting and looks the best, becuase he wants whatever he does to be the best. You nod and give him a kiss on the cheek before handing him an apron. You two stick together and switch roles every time, and while it's your turn to measure the ignredients, you aren't as creful and exact as him. "You need to fill it a bit more." He says, and you say, "It'll be fine, Hoon."

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

Is sneaky and adds extra of whatever he likes into the bowl whenever you aren't looking. You turned around to look at the recipe on your tablet after already adding the sugar, but Sunoo is fast and adds more to it, his reflexses are quick, and when you turn around, you see him standing there innocently with a smile on his face. You don't realise this until after the batter out of the oven, becuase when you take a bite of it, you can't help but feel like something is off even though you can't put your finger on it. "Is it supposed to taste like this?" You question. " I think it tastes perfect!"

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

At the start, everything was cute and organised, but when Jungwon placed the batter into the oven, he started to get impatient while waiting and got an idea when he looked at his palms that were still covered in flour. A smirk spread across his face and you were unaware of what was going to happen since you were focused on your phone. You feel a tap on your shoulder, and when you turn around, you are met with a handful of flour hitting your face. You wipe it away, and quickly scanned the situation, doing the same as him, turning this into a flour battle. "Come back here!" You called out to Jungwon who was running away.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

Tells you to sit back and watch him be 'Gordon Ramsay' even though you were the one who told him you wanted to bake for him. Every time you attempt to sneak into the kitchen to do something, he nudges you back out and tells you, "I'm a master, trust and you'll taste my amazing choco cake." Riki looks proud as he puffs out his chest with a smile. "If you say so." You shrug, and let him do what he wants. "y/n, do you know where the flour is?" He asks, and you walk over to a cabinet show him the bucket with flour. "So, am I qualified to be your assistant now?" you tease. "Sure, but I'll still be the one to bake for you." Riki says, kissing your hair.

TAGLIST : @dollyhoon @itjengirl @saeivra @orimuraa

[lidiasloca]

can i request a funny drabble? one with nyx being friends with reader for and she finally meets feyre and rhysand and she whispers to him,

” i see where you get your looks from, your mom and dad are dilfs snd milfs ”

and anytime they’re out she always kind of flirts with feyre and says hi ms archereon with a smile.

meeting the high lord and high lady

nyx x reader - rhys x reader - feyre x reader

fluff

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

you knew who your best friend’s parents were. of course you knew. it was, in a way, the reason why you had become friends. 

on the first day at the training camp, you saw him there, alone, no one brave enough to speak to the high lord and lady’s only son. 

but you couldn’t have cared less when the most powerful boy in the camp set eyes on you and asked if he could borrow your wooden sword, having lost his. his words were soft, and his eyes so timid – you instantly knew you’d be great friends.

and you are now. such good friends that he finally asked you to meet his parents. it was no big deal meeting your friend’s parents – unless they were none other than the high lords of your court.

so, you were very, very nervous. 

“alright, i’m going to knock now, okay?” nyx asked, holding his hand up. “calm down.”

“i am calm.” you clearly were not. 

his lips formed a thin line, obviously holding back a remark. then, he finally knocked.

and – oh gods.

you could almost hear your friend’s words echo in your head. “act normal, stupid.”

but how could you? in front of you stood a literal goddess. no, it was beauty in the form of a female.

“hi! you must be y/n.” she smiled, and you felt like swooning. “i’m feyre. nice to meet you.”

“you are so beautiful,” you found yourself whispering.

her smile turned into a surprised beam, and from the corner of your eye, you saw the mortification of her son.

“thank you, love. you’re a beauty yourself.”

you chuckled nervously, almost ready to jump into her arms.

was it crazy to propose to her on your knees right there in front of nyx?

“let’s get inside, for fuck’s sake,” he grumbled in irritation. your best friend had told you how he always had to endure people drooling over his parents, and now you understood why.

“language,” feyre warned, and it was the most beautiful threat you had ever heard someone sing. gods – you had to play it cooler than this.

“could you behave, y/n?” he whisper-yelled as you followed feyre into the house.

you gave him a nod, accompanied by a cheeky grin that told him you were no longer nervous, just excited to spend the whole dinner watching his beautiful mother. by the way his sharp eyes glared at you, you knew he was not happy about it.

“rhys! they’re here!”

“coming,” a masculine voice called from somewhere far off. if the male was half as beautiful as his raspy voice, you knew you were really going to swoon.

you almost had to catch yourself when the high lord appeared through the door. “oh, gods.”

nyx elbowed you hard, but you couldn’t care less as the male smiled at you. “i’m rhysand. and you are?”

you couldn’t form any words, but the cauldron gifted you with feyre’s enchanting voice to help. “she’s y/n.”

“y/n,” he repeated, and it sounded heavenly. “great to meet you.”

“is dinner ready?” nyx cut in, clearly tired of this.

“yes, it is,” rhysand responded, his sharp eyes telling his son to act nicer. “and i hope you don’t mind,” he continued, now looking at you, “a friend is coming over to dine with us.”

“uncle cassian?” your friend asked.

“not exactly,” another voice you didn’t recognize answered. and – what a voice...

“please tell me it’s not azriel – y/n is going to swoon,” nyx muttered under his breath, but you heard it perfectly well. in fact, it was the last thing you heard before the most handsome male walked into the room.

“i’m azriel. nice to meet you.”

-Characters by Sarah J Maas

a/n: guys! lizzy mcalpine's "come down soon" is so so great. no, but really, go listen it, bc wow. well, hope you like this fic, if you did, maybe go check my masterlist :))

[morose-melodies]

love like this | yandere! capitano x reader

summary: you're terrified of the captain but what did he do wrong??

content warning: (y/n) thinks shes being abused (mental illness)

"I believe the captain will be coming back today."

the dark mansion felt gloomy ever since the announcement, you didn't hate him, no, but you weren't very excited to see him again.

subconsciously, you dragged a finger across your wrist before standing from the couch in the living room and peeking out of the window once again.

despite the confusing feelings you feel every time you think of him, you still enjoy his company and you're sure he enjoys yours too.

the windows were cold and your breath fogged up the view, but once it cleared, you noticed the gates were slowly opening and you imagined yourself running through those gate.

you smiled to yourself as you backed away from the window and turned to walk up the stairs, but that walking turned into running as you heard the front door open.

you ran down the dark, unlit hallway until you met the end of it, you opened the door and the end and closed it behind yourself, releasing a shaky breath.

you heard him walking up the stairs, coming closer and closer towards where you were, it was hard not to hear, you backed away from the door, running to the bathroom and slammed the door behind yourself.

you slumped down against the door, your hands against your chest to calm yourself down, but the panic your felt only seemed to become stronger as the seconds passed.

with shaky hands, you sat them to your sides, listening as the door to the main room opened, you hear capitano walk in before pausing.

you bit down onto your brusied lip, your hands trembling as your heard his foot steps get closer and closer towards the door.

he knocked on the door.

"I heard you run up the stairs. are you not feeling well?" His voice was muffled behind the door, you hesitated but then said, "I'm okay."

"if that's the case, let me in." He wasn't asking, he was demanding, you after steadying yourself, you stood up slowly and opened the door, peaking out.

he pushed the door open when you hesitated and pulled you into his arms, whispering to you how badly he missed you.

"it breaks my heart when you run away from me, do you know that?" He questioned, you shook your head, apologizing before pushing away from the hug.

his touch was cold.

he held you in his arms, refusing to release you, even as you pushed at his chest. his fingers wrapped around the thin fabric of your nightgown.

he took in a deep breath before saying, "I received a letter from your handmaiden," his grip on you loosened ever so slightly, but his grip on your gown remained the same, "in the letter, she told me that you've been going out, far more than you normally do. where have you been going, (y/n)?"

the way he spoke told you he was doubting you, it bothered you. it had been quite some time since you last acted out.

his grip on your gown tightened, as if he were hurrying you up, tell you to answer. he doesn't act like this usually.

his urgency worried you.

you blinked, once and then twice, your hands slowly dropping, no longer touching him, "you... you know I like going out. what's so weird about it?"

"where were you, (y/n)? tell me."

"I... I just visited the marketplace... I got very lonely while you were gone," you placed your hand onto capitano arm, lifting your eyes to look at him.

"and who took you there?"

"dottore... when he had free time, he would take me there." you replied, your voice slowly became more and more weak as you began to feel nervous.

capitano released your gown and in return you let go of his arm. "I remember telling you to go nowhere until I came back. how is it that you forget?"

"I'm sorry. I just got so lonely... I'm very sorry," after all you said, capitano still grabbed you, and carried you to his bedroom, despite all of your apologies.

down the dark hallway, capitano called out, "bring dinner to us, knock on the door before entering."

and a maid from downstairs answered, "of course, my lord."

upon entering his bedroom, he sat you at the edge of his bed. you shook your head, once again blubbering your apologies.

"stop it," capitano shook his head, holding a hand out, gesturing for you to be quiet, "I am not going to hurt you. it hurts me to see you so afraid."

but, how could you not be afraid? he was frightening. "o-okay," you sniffled, wiping away the stray tears on your face.

capitano seated himself beside you, his hand rested on your thigh, as if to steady you -- to calm you down. "you have to understand why I worry for you. tell me, (y/n), how many times have you ran off and gotten into trouble?"

many, many times but you couldn't bring yourself to reply, only sniffle.

"you and I both know you've gotten in trouble more times than we can count on our hands combined," capitano gently squeezed at the flesh on your thighs, "come here," he held his arms out and you crawled into his arms, letting him hug you.

"how could I ever harm you, (y/n)? what's the matter with you?" this had been going on for months now, it was sudden also, you woke up one morning and were terrified of the captain.

you would flinch at his every move, cower away from him, or even run to hide from him given the chance - it was disheartening. he tried to give you distance, he had tried everything for you.

he had given you months of space, time to think, time to be away from him - the captain thought, perhaps, that would fix the problem, but it did not.

the captain vividly remembered one night when you screamed and cried in your sleep - kicking, fighting, shivering, and murmuring. the captain couldn't watch it, so, he woke you up, pulling you into his arms, making you look at him - he questioned you, tried to soothe you but you looked at him with wide, terrified eyes.

what had gone so wrong? months prior, the captain would have sworn you loved him - you would run to greet him whenever he arrived home, you would pester him and you had never cowered in fear at the sight of him.

"if you would just tell me, (y/n), what I've done so wrong - I would do everything in my power to better it, I can promise you that," the captain ran his hand up your back, his hand moving to rest on your trembling shoulders, "speak to me, (y/n). I care for you, so, so much."

"you..." you paused, sniffling, your head resting on his shoulder, "you..." you couldn't remember but you were terrified and you couldn't understand why.

"(y/n), please," the captain pleaded, his hands holding your shoulders - his grip was not firm, not anymore, no, it was gentle, delicate. the captain tried so hard to make you feel safe, he tried so hard to make everything better.

you believed wholeheartedly that the captain had harmed you and the captain knew that. "(y/n)... I harmed you," it wasn't true, it wasn't, the captain wouldn't dare, no, he wouldn't dream of harming you but, for your sake... "what could I do to make it better?"

"wha..." you lifted your head, eyes wide as you looked at him - what could he do to make it better? "l-let me be," you stammered, squirming out of his lap to stand in front of him, "i... I don't want to be here all the time... I want to do normal things and live a normal lif-"

the captain nodded. "of course, I'd do anything to make this better, (y/n)," the captain stood and took a deep breath - he could already feel himself beginning to worry; what would happen if he let you leave the manor? would you be alright? would you attempt to leave him? would you-

"if it would make you feel better, (y/n), I will permit it."

[venomhound]

Hazbin Hotel - Petname Headcanons

Headcanons for what terms of endearment Vox, Alastor, and Lucifer use in their relationships. I was going to do more characters, but this post got too long (AGAIN), so I just did my favs. If enough people want it, I can do a part 2? Maybe? MAYHAPS?

Contents/WARNINGS: Gender neutral reader; talks about what yall like to be called during sex; Daddy/Mommy kinks; Valentino mention; Lucifer really needs therapy you guys (18+), MDNI, NSFW below the cut ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

Vox ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

What He Calls You

(NOTE: Huge credit to @bindeds for the whole 'Vox does sappy petnames' headcanon. You should read their post with it >here<. Its lived rent free in my head since I read it.)

Honestly? Vox is a menace when it comes to terms of endearment.

Vox loves to get creative and call you super sappy stuff. Things like sugar bear, honey kisses, love dove, cuddle cake.... I pray you can at least tolerate this because I have no doubt that Vox has sent past partners running for the hills by doing this.

These silly names tend to come in waves. Vox will have one that he likes to call you, use it for a short bit, then switch it up for a different one. So if there is one you particularly don't like, at least you never have to deal with it for more then a few days.

Vox doesn't like to talk about you in front of the cameras (he has a deep fear that your going to end up stolen). But when he does, he avoids using your actual name. Instead Vox calls you more... conventionally sappy petnames. Like dearest, or starlight.

Not embarrassed at all about calling you these things in front of millions of viewers. He loves you so much and feels so lucky to have you. In a perfect world and if this wasn't, you know, Hell, Vox would just openly brag about you on air 24/7.

While Vox always seems to have something new to call you, the one name that sticks around and actually gets used consistently is sugar. A classic 50s petname. He thinks it particularly suits you because your, well, sweet as sugar. And you make everything in his life better.

What You Call Him

Vox could not care less what you call him. I don't mean that in a 'he doesn't care' way, no, its the opposite. I mean you could call him literally whatever you want and Vox will love it. He just wants to be called something special and to know he is special to you.

I'm not kidding here. Everything is on the table. Cutesy names, sappy ones, playful nicknames... Literally whatever you want as long as its not straight up demeaning or embarrassing.

Don't call him Voxy though. Yeah, its a cute name he will admit; and it sounds bittersweet coming from your lips. But that name is just far too associated with Valentino. It brings back so many painful memories and raw resentment that Vox would rather not experience in your presence. If he has to at all.

I've always pictured Vox being that guy who never wants to hear his real name come from your mouth once you two start dating. You all know the type of guy I'm talking about. Dude will have an actual breakdown.

You two could be having a serious conversation or heated argument, but as soon as you say 'Vox' nothing else matters to him. Vox just gapes at you and is like "Since when am I VOX to you?! I'M YOUR CUDDLE BEAR." Or insert whatever name you use for him. He says it completely serious too.

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A little ironic considering he hates hearing his actual name come from your mouth normally; but when you two are in the bedroom, Vox wants you to say nothing but his name.

Vox loves nothing more then when he fucks you stupid on his cock or overstimulates you to where his name is the only word you know. When you start moaning his name like a prayer or chanting it as your voice cracks.

There is nothing more beautiful to him then those sounds. Vox could cum from those sounds alone; and he has many times. Times when one of you was away or you two were otherwise separated.

Vox would play back the sounds of your pleading during your last time together to himself. He had been away from you for too long. He desperately needed to hear your voice, his name from your lips. Its like a drug to him.

Vox tends to lean towards gentler, more classic names in the bedroom. He whispers how much he missed you, darling. While his lips greedily take yours again and again. He will kiss down your neck, mumbling against your skin how he cant wait to make his sweetheart feel good. Gorgeous, beautiful, and handsome also frequently leave his lips once more skin starts getting exposed.

I have always headcanoned Vox as a switch. When he veers towards that more dominant, possessive side, he will start using more sexually charged names like babe or kitten. But if you two have been together a long time or you end up tying the knot.... Now Vox just babbles about how perfect his wife or his husband is as he plows into you over and over.

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Alastor ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

What He Calls You

Poor deer man. Quite bluntly, he has no idea what to do when he gets actual feelings for someone. I mean, yeah, he know what to do; in theory. In practice however, its a whole different story. Things are always much easier in theory then actual reality.

Perfect example of this is when you two first become an item and Alastor tries to legitimately flirt with you. Alastor lays it on just a little bit too thick and goes straight to calling you baby.

The entire hotel gets thrown for a loop. Husk chokes on his drink, Angel Dust fucking yowls, and Vaggie is cringing into the next century.

Fun fact: 'baby' first started being used as a term of endearment in the 1920s and was all the rage during that time. So Alastor probably actually used it.

Poor boomer Alastor doesn't understand what happened until he vents to Rosie about it and she laughs at him too. Rosie has to explain to Alastor that the whole 'baby' thing has taken on a much more sexual connotation during the last, you know, hundred years.

Alastor is somehow even more embarrassed about the whole faux pas upon knowing the full context then he was before.

To avoid another, ahem... incident. Alastor just straight up asks what you would like him to call you. As long as its not something too weird or sappy he will oblige.

If you tell him to call you whatever he wants, Alastor is going to be like a deer in the headlights (pun intended) due to what happened last time. Will probably just stick to your name for awhile or test things out in private first.

Alastor is partial to calling you darling, my dear, or just love. Whichever seems to make your heart flutter most.

You can always tell when Alastor is in a particularly good/playful mood because he will call you my doe (if your female) or my buck (if your male). Alastor will also use this name if he is showing you off or you've done something to make him proud of you.

What You Call Him

If you were to ask him? Alastor would tell you to simply call him by his name or just Al. Says he isnt fond of petnames even though he uses them all the time. Guy is strange.

If you do start using petnames he wont stop you. Do keep it classy however. Don't call him anything super silly, or too sexual. He now has a vendetta against the name baby so don't call him that either.

Alastor will never directly say he likes the name, but you have noticed that when you call him love or my love his smile gets a bit wider and his eyes relax a bit.

You can get away with teasing names in private. Like princess for instance. When you first called Alastor that he gave you the dirtiest look. Not in a sexual way. I mean in a 'I dare you to call me that again, brat' way.

The second time you called him princess, Alastor's ears flattened against his head and he warned you to kindly refrain from that name. However, he couldn't hide how his tail was wagging playfully.

The third time you knew exactly what you were doing as you bolted in the opposite direction right after calling him a precious princess. Alastor, wide eyed and absolutely feral, immediately dropped everything in his hands, shattering several glasses, and gave chase.

Its become a weird game between the two of you. Alastor will never admit how much he loves to see that defiant spark in your eyes.

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Just like any other time, Alastor simply prefers to hear his name above all else when things get steamy. Although he does have a weak spot for being called master...

Likewise, Alastor tends to call you his pet. And like any good master with their pet, Alastor's ultimate goal is your safety and comfort. That doesn't mean he wont push you to your limits or make you perform for him however. The name is more of an unspoken promise that he will never actually hurt you.

Out of all the guys, Alastor is the one you would least expect to have a thing for calling you mommy in the bedroom (regardless of your gender). This usually happens when your overstimulated and/or Alastor is deep into a servicing mode, trying to make you feel as good as possible, and pulling as many orgasms from you as he physically can.

It also happens during his ruts. Alastor will vacillate between calling you mommy or his mate. He will growl into your neck how good of a mate you are as he fucks into you. How you are all his. Then after Alastor fills you to the brim with cum he will tell you how he, 'Cant wait for Mommy to have my fawns. Lets see how much more Mommy can take, hm?'

The whole mommy kink is a secret he will take with him to oblivion however. Alastor will make sure anyone who knows of it does too.

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Lucifer ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

What He Calls You

Sorry; but I'm on the bandwagon that Lucifer uses duck based petnames for his partner. Duck or ducky are his go to names. Period. Especially when he is excited about something or gushing over how cute you are.

Lucifer genuinely thinks your as cute as a duck. Coming from him, thats quite a compliment. If you let him, Lucifer will 100% do the cutesy baby-talk voice at you when you do something particularly endearing and his cuteness meter is overloading.

When Lucifer is in front of people and trying to act normal (as in, masking hardcore), he will instead address you by a rather curt darling or my dear.

Although it may come across like Lucifer is distancing himself from you, he isn't actively trying to be less affectionate to you at all. Crowds/people in general are just super stressful for the guy and he is trying his absolute best to look like he has his shit together.

Once he relaxes a bit, you get some liquid courage in him, or if you two are with some friends, Lucifer moves to more intimate names.

When you go to sit, Lucifer will beckon you to come closer, doll, until your practically sitting on his lap. Then he will look at you with the most adoring eyes as he asks how are you enjoying yourself, sweetheart? He really does love you more then you can imagine.

What You Call Him

Lucifer tends to like the sweetest, sappiest terms of endearment. The ones that make your chest fill with butterflies and anyone within earshot nauseous. God bless the hotel for dealing with your shit because you two are actual diabetes.

Call him teddy bear, cuddle bug, or snuggs because of how physically affectionate he is. Also just because of how wonderful Lucifer's cuddles are and how you both could spend the rest of eternity in each other's arms.

Other good options are muffin, honey bun, or cupcake. Why the food names? Because Lucifer LOVES to cook for you of course! Its not just the pancakes either, this guy actually does know how to cook. One of his favorite things is to surprise you with a night in and a completely home made three course meal. (But thats for another post!)

If you want to compete with Lucifer's whole duck thing and give him a matching bird petname, you can call him lovebird. Lucifer might return the favor and start calling you his lovebird too. Because its exactly what you are. You both really are just a pair of lovebirds.

If you don't like ANY of those, buttercup or sweetpea are also good options. Two cute flower names that tie nicely into Lucifer's whole 'garden of Eden' thing.

You could also straight up call him cutie. Its a vicious cycle with this one. Because whenever you call him that, Lucifer gets the happiest, most adorable smile on his face. So you end up wanting to call him it more...

You got lots of great options with him. But if you want something more """serious"""; sweetie, sweetheart, honey, or shortening his name to Luci will still make his heart flutter without getting too crazy.

Another fun thing you can do, is call him my King or my Liege before kissing the back of his hand. Lucifer cant help but get flustered and start giggling like an idiot.

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Do I even need to say it? Do I even need to say what two words turn this man into an actual puddle on the spot?

Like seriously. Those words hold so much power that you have to be super careful with how you wield it. Lucifer could be so distracted, excitedly telling you about a new project he is working on. Then you just mutter how much of a good boy he is and every muscle in Lucifer's body instantly tenses. You giggle as you see a surprised shudder run up his spine. His cock already standing at full attention.

Lucifer has a weakness for the name pretty boy as well. Caress his soft skin, leaving a trail of hot kisses, before whispering how much of a pretty boy he is; and Lucifer will reward you with the most sinful moans.

Be careful with him though; Lucifer may be the sin of pride, king of hell, and the fucking devil, but the man wears his heart on his sleeve and can easily be hurt by your words if your not careful.

Don't degrade him. This actually really hurts him and can easily send Lucifer spiraling. Before punishments, tell him he has been a bad boy, a naughty boy. Tell him he has to make up for it and prove how good he really is.

Praise on both of your ends. Lucifer constantly tells you how beautiful, gorgeous, and/or handsome you are. When you return the praise, the devil melts.

Lucifer will call you angel or my angel, because to him, your beauty rivals all of heaven itself. You also came into his life and saved him as if you were an angel sent just for him. He knows that would never happen of course; but he likes to dream.

Has a lowkey daddy kink as well but is ashamed of it since he is an actual dad. But you can easily get him riled up by playing into it and calling yourself baby or mommy. Ooohh boy will this devil then be ready to actually make you a mommy~

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AN: If you want a part 2, please say what characters you want. I started an Adam one, and I wanted to do an Angel Dust one. But Im open to whatever?

[mattslolita]

please make a blurb of Bambi walking in on Chris and Matt on streaming but instead of running away Chris sits her on his lap and introduces her which makes the internet go wild

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"well come on and let me knoww, should i stay or should i go?"

the sound of your singing voice causes both chris and matt's heads to snap up upon hearing you, both sharing similar looks as you're on your phone and walking inside of matt's room, where chris was.

"if i go there will be troublee- oh dang wait, did i interrupt somethin'?" you squeak once you register their stares, biting your lip nervously as you look over at the computer, "are you guys streaming?"

"yeah, but you can stay if you want to, y/n," matt tells you, nodding in encouragement.

you look over at chris who's already grinning, patting his lap and motioning for you to come and have a seat. you giggle and happily bound over to the man, falling into his lap easily whilst his arms immediately come down to hold you by your waist and steady you.

"alright guys, we got a special guest joining the rest of stream," chris grins, peppering kisses along your neck causing you to giggle, "this is bambi, play nice."

"hi guys!" you say excitedly, blowing a kiss to the stream and giving them a small wave.

the comments were rolling in rapidly, everyone visibly going absolutely crazy over them — you knew chris and chris brothers streamed quite often, yet you'd always been a little shy and didn't want to interfere. but it would happen eventually, so why not now?

"oh gosh, please don't tell me you're about to do fortnite duos," you groaned, slumping slightly in chris's lap as your nose scrunched in distaste.

"you're jus' mad cause you're bad at fortnite," chris snorts, causing you to roll your eyes and cross your arms.

you narrowed your eyes and scanned the screen, looking at some of the comments. a triumphant giggle escapes your lips as you point at the screen. "see, mattsbabymomma agrees with me! play some new stuff!"

"how bout you shut that pretty little mouth an' watch the game?" chris jokes, giving you a knowing glance causing you to pout slightly.

"mhm, fine," you agree, a small smile on your lips, "y'all would get rightfully get demolished if we played call of duty, though..."