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trashytracktales · 18 hours ago

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girl hi hi hi hi i am in love with your writing 😩😩

as someone who’s terrified by getting her driver license can i request boyfriend Lando giving you driving lessons and you know, good old soft dom lando giving you INSTRUCTIONS and praising you !! You know what i mean? 🥹🥹

and ofc throwing in a lil nice smut won’t be bad idk

Maybe this way i’ll feel inspired to finally get my license

(gorgeous gorgeous girls are obsessed with cars but scared to drive 🤩)

ily T!!

Fast learner | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── First of all, you got this, babe!! Getting your license can be scary, I remember being absolutely terrified. It definitely takes time and determination, but you can do it, I promise 🤞🏻 Also, so sorry it took me AGES, but I am struggling to finish my works lately *sad sounds idk*. I hope I did this one justice though. Fingers crossed and let me know when you get that license, queen. Enjoy 🤍✨

. ݁₊ ⊹ summary ──── Lando surprises his girlfriend with a gift she can’t say no to. Despite her fear, his guidance helps her gain confidence behind the wheel. But back home, the lessons continue in a much more intimate way, as Lando makes sure she knows just how good she is at following his instructions, both on and off the track.

. ݁₊ ⊹ pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

. ݁₊ ⊹ rating ──── explicit

. ݁₊ ⊹ category ──── F/M

. ݁₊ ⊹ warnings ──── 18+, driving anxiety, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, swearing, sexual metaphors & euphemisms, light choking, soft dom!Lando.

. ݁₊ ⊹ word count ──── 5.6k

. ݁₊ ⊹ date ──── Feb. 28, 2025

WHEN SHE OPENS her eyes, the first thing she notices is that his familiar heat is pressing on her from every direction. With Lando’s arm resting like a sluggish weight around her waist and his fingertips brushing the exposed flesh beneath the hem of his hoodie, which she had stolen before bed, she feels secure in the warmth they’ve created.

His nose is buried in the crook of her neck, and the second thing she notices is the quiet, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest against her back, his steady breathing blending with the morning silence, and the delicate, smooth kisses he’s planting on her skin.

The girl shifts slightly, only for him to tighten his grip, pulling her closer; she smiles, understanding he is already awake.

“Where do you think you’re going?” asks Lando, his voice languid.

Her body is melting back into his embrace, Lando’s slightly aggressive curiosity making her giggle. “Nowhere.”

“Good,” he presses a tender kiss to her shoulder, then another, trailing his lips back up the curve of her neck. “Because it’s your birthday, and I get to hold you for as long as I want.”

She smiles again, her heart swelling at the way he always makes her feel like she is most important thing in the world.

“That’s exactly what you said when it was your birthday,” she reminds him. “And last Friday, when it was… just Friday.”

“Still applies, as you can see,” he speaks softly against her skin. “Happy birthday, my love.”

A mellow hum leaves her as she turns in his arms, finally opening her eyes to meet his. They’re still laced with sleep, heavy-lidded and warm, the early, weak sunlight filtering through the curtains and cascading all over his face. His hair is a mess, his cheek faintly creased from the pillow, but she thinks he’s never looked more beautiful than he does in the mornings. Mostly because no one but her knows that his eyes are incredibly clear when he opens them for the first time. Or that his hands, still asleep, do not grasp her with the same strength they do at night, but have a tenderness she knows she will never find anywhere else, except their own bed.

“Thank you, pretty boy,” she whispers, running a gentle finger over his jaw, then following the pillow marks up his cheek. Lightly, she cups his face, her thumb pressing on his dimple, making Lando grin.

He leans in to nuzzle his nose against hers before capturing her lips in a sleepy, lazy kiss. It’s the kind of kiss that lingers, tender and sweet, the kind that makes her toes curl under the blanket. His hand skims up her side, slipping beneath the hoodie, fingers brushing against warm skin as he pulls her impossibly closer.

When they part, he sighs contentedly, resting his forehead against hers. “Sorry for waking you up.”

She hums, “You can wake me up like this everyday.”

“Yeah?” Lando giggles. “I actually had half a mind to let you sleep in, but I got too excited.”

She laughs softly. “Excited for what?”

Instead of answering, Lando reaches over to the nightstand to grab a small, beautifully wrapped box. He holds it out to her, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Her brows knit together as she pushes herself up onto her elbows. For a second, she thinks he’s about to propose, but he looks way too relaxed for that, which makes her question everything she knows about her boyfriend.

“What did you do, Lando?” she asks. “I told you no gifts this year.”

He smirks, nudging the box toward her. “It is not a gift. Think of it as an... investment. Come on, just open it.”

She hesitates, much more suspicious now, casting Lando a tamed look before carefully removing the ribbon. The paper falls away, revealing a sleek black velvet box. Her heart picks up its pace as she flicks it open and finds out that inside, resting against the dark fabric, is a car key.

She blinks, confused.

The logo gleams up at her, adding to her state.

“Lan…” she stares at the key, then back at him, as if waiting for him to laugh and tell her it’s all a joke. “This is a car key.”

Lando nods, biting his lip to keep from bursting into laughter. “Your dream car’s key,” he corrects her.

Her stomach flips violently. “No way. No. Lando, no. Absolutely not,” she keeps saying, shaking her head. “That’s too much,” she adds, shoving the box toward him as if it burns to touch. “You did not buy me a car for my stupid birthday.”

Incapable to hold his laugh any further, Lando lets out a little giggle. His voice is light, but there’s nothing but sincerity in his expression when he speaks again, “It’s not stupid. I wanted to. I’ve been planning this for a while now.”

She gapes at him, her brain struggling to process. “You bought me a Porsche.”

He shrugs, reaching for her hand and intertwining his fingers with hers. “I bought you your Porsche. The exact one you’ve been obsessing since forever,” he leans in, brushing his lips over her knuckles. “Don’t make me beg you to accept it. You deserve it and I can afford it, so just—”

“It’s not about deserving, Lando,” her heart swells, but panic creeps in. “I appreciate you for doing this, but I don’t even have a driver’s license. And I’m definitely not ready to get it any time soon. So please, can you take it back?”

His facial expression turns mischievous, raising a finger in the air, “Oh, no. You are ready. Which brings us to the second part of your present,” he says, tapping her nose playfully before throwing the covers off and getting up. “Get a comfy pair of shoes on. We’ve got somewhere to be.”

She looks at him warily. “Where exactly?”

Lando smirks, stretching before tugging a hoodie over his head. “Driving lessons,” he says, pointing at himself, “With me.”

Her stomach drops. “Lando, no.”

“Lando, yes,” he winks, crossing the room to where she sits on the bed, still in shock. “Baby, I know you’re terrified, but I wanna show you it’s not as scary as you think. It’ll be fun, I promise. And if not, we can stop at any time.”

Her lips part, but no words come out, only a strangled noise that makes Lando chuckle. He crouches in front of her, taking her hands in his, looking up at her. Sometimes, she thinks that the way he does it is so annoying, because she can’t say no when he gives her those puppy eyes. She realizes, looking back at him, that chances are Lando is even more excited than she is, which makes her feel a little guilty.

“Look, it’s okay to be nervous,” he says gently, pressing a kiss to her palm, “But I’ll be right there with you.”

Her chest tightens — not from anxiety this time, but from the sheer love she feels for this man, and for the way he always knows how to push her while making her feel safe.

She ends up nodding and, with that, Lando pulls her into a lingering kiss, as if sealing the promise between them.

WHEN LANDO SAID driving lessons, she thought he meant a quiet, empty parking lot somewhere in the city. Or maybe a back road with little to no traffic. What she did not expect was an entire race track at their disposal.

It’s February, and the cold still bites through the air, the kind of chill that seeps into her bones despite the heat blasting inside the car. The sky is now a heavy shade of gray, fluffy clouds stretching endlessly above the open space of the Silverstone Circuit. The grandstands stand empty, ghostly in their silence, the wind whistling through the steel framework.

Her hands tighten into fists as she stares at the massive expanse of the track. She’s been here before, sure, but she’s never seen this place so devoid of people and so lifeless. What strikes her, though, is that it doesn’t even matter, because the circuit has the same beauty — perhaps even more alluring when it’s not animated by the roar of people and the deafening sound of engines. It’s almost haunting. She can’t shake the feeling that it’s the same place where world-class drivers push their limits at blinding speeds, where Lando himself has raced countless times. And just for tooday, it belongs entirely to them.

Her heart pounds harder in her chest as she’s turning to look at him, “You got me Silverstone for my first driving lesson?”

Lando smirks, shutting the engine off. “Had to pull some strings, no biggie.” He looks back at her, his eyes gleaming with excitement under the thick, long lashes. “I didn’t want anything to distract you or to feel any external pressure. Just us, and your car.”

Her car.

She still hasn’t fully processed it. She spent the entire two-hour drive here just staring at it, running her fingers over the pristine leather seat when Lando wasn’t looking, and tracing the sleek dashboard, memorizing every detail. It smells brand new, the engine purring under his control like a well-tamed beast. But now, as he opens his door and steps out, the reality of what comes next hits her, and panic creeps up her spine once again.

She grips the seatbelt tightly, her fingers going numb, as she watches Lando walk around the car. He looks so at ease, so effortlessly confident as he gestures for her to switch places. Meanwhile, she feels like she could throw up in T minus five seconds.

“Come on, baby,” he calls, grinning as he taps the roof of the car. “Time to make you a driver.”

Yes, that sounds good. And yes, she wants this. She really does. But the moment she steps out into the cold air and faces the car from the driver’s side, the same doubt settles deep in her chest. It’s not that she’s scared of driving — well, she is. But that’s not the only reason why she postoned getting her license for so long. The simple thought makes her stomach flip, because she knows that the second she puts foot in a car, so many things can go wrong, especially if you’re afraid.

Lando notices her hesitance immediately, and his playful grin softens as he steps closer. “Hey,” he says, tilting his head. “What’s bothering you, hm? Talk to me.”

The girl exhales shakily. “I’m not sure about this, Lando. I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Of course you can,” says Lando in a determined voice.

She looks at the car, then at the track ahead of them. “It’s...” her voice trails off, trying to come up with the best excuse and go back home to nestle between their warm sheets.

“It’s just tarmac, baby,” Lando’s tone is calm and reassuring. “It’s no different than any other road. Just bigger. Safer, actually.”

Her arms wrap around herself instinctively, bracing against the cold, but mostly against her own emotions. “What if I mess up?”

“Then you mess up,” he shrugs, “That’s what learning is, isn’t it?”

She knows he’s right, but the fear still lingers, coiling tight in her stomach. “And if I crash?”

“You won’t crash,” he answers with the same determination yet slightly amused, taking her by surprise, because Lando uses that voice only when he is sure of what he’s saying.

She scoffs, “Sure, how do you know that?”

Lando smiles, reaching for her hands, rubbing warmth into her fingers before bringing them up to his lips. “Because I am here.”

Ha.

She nods slowly, suddenly realizing that there’s no going back — not when Lando is so committed to show her a side of herself that even she’s not aware of. And the fact that he believes in her does something to her brain; it gives her a bit more confidence and courage. She’s seen Lando drive countless of times before. She watched him, his movements instinctive, so measured and smooth that it’s become second nature to him. Maybe she can try to replicate that to a certain degree.

For her own sake, she owes him that.

“Alright,” she manages to say, her voice much tamer than expected.

“That’s my girl,” he presses one last kiss to her knuckles before stepping back, gesturing to the driver’s seat. “Get in there.”

With a deep breath, she finally slides into the driver’s seat, and her entire body tense as she grips the steering wheel; it feels hard under her touch, yet delicate at the same time. Lando follows, settling into his place effortlessly, like this is just another normal day at the track for him.

“Okay,” Lando starts, his voice patient. “First, get comfortable. Adjust your seat, mirrors, whatever you need. Make sure you see everything and, most importantly, make sure you feel everything. All the points where your body makes contact with the car, yeah?” he watches her nodding, swallowing the lump in her throat, then adds, “There is no rush, so take your time. We’ve got plenty.”

Her movements are stiff and mechanical as she reaches for the seat adjustment; she can feel her pulse in her fingertips while she does it. Then, she places her hands on the steering wheel, feeling it firm under her grip, and she suddenly becomes hyper-aware of how tight her fingers become around it.

“Babe,” says Lando, noticing she’s still fighting on the inside. “Relax your hands. You don’t need to strangle it.”

She forces herself to loosen her grip, but her fingers still tremble slightly.

“That’s better,” Lando reaches over, placing a hand on her knee to ground her.

She inhales sharply, then exhales, trying to shake the nerves. Lando waits until she goes through everythig he’s just instructed her, without rushing or teasing at her hesitation. He’s just there, a constant presence that makes her feel more comfortable.

And then, “Think of it like when you’re on top,” he continues casually.

Her head whips toward him, eyes wide. “What?”

Lando’s expression changes, looking like he’s just mentally high-fived himself for the comparison. “When you’re on top, you’re in control,” he reminds her. “You set the pace. You decide how fast or slow you wanna go,” his fingers tighten on her thigh as he leans in slightly, his voice dipping lower. “The car will respond to everything you do. Try it. I’m here to guide you.”

“Lando.”

He keeps going, completely undeterred, “Baby, I know you know how to move. It’s all about finding that rhythm,” he says, his fingers tapping against her thigh for emphasis. “It’s literally the same thing. Smooth, steady, no sudden jerks. And when you’re ready to pick up speed…” Lando grins, his eyes darkening just slightly. “Well. You know what happens then.”

A laugh bursts from her chest, all the tension snapping like a rubber band. She slaps his arm away, her face heating at his ridiculous but so on-brand analogy. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” he teases, laying back in his chair, “You’re finally breathing properly now.”

She blinks, realizing he’s right. The tightness in her chest has eased, her grip on the wheel no longer desperate. Her shoulders have dropped, her muscles loosening bit by bit. Lando sees the realization settling over her, content that he managed to put other images inside her head in order to make it easier to handle.

He chuckles, then gestures toward the track in front of them, “Alright, birthday girl. Ready to take me for a ride?”

She groans, covering her face with one hand. “You just can’t stop, can you?”

“Nope,” he says after a moment. “Foot on the brake.”

Instinctively, her foot finds the pedal, pressing down tentatively.

“Now, start the car.”

She swallows hard and reaches for the ignition button. The engine roars to life beneath her fingertips, smooth and powerful, vibrating through her entire body.

At the sound, Lando grins proudly. “There she is.” His hands go to rest on the armrest, his thumb brushing the fabric lightly. He watches carefully as she moves to adjust the mirrors with a focused look in her eyes. “Good,” he continues, his voice a soft command that she knows so well. “Now, keep the wheel steady, just like we talked about. Look ahead. Your eyes should be on the next corner, not the one you just passed.”

She nods, keeping her focus on the track.

“So, this car is rear-engined, which means most of the weight is at the back. That makes it a little trickier to handle if you throw it into a corner too fast. But,” Lando pauses, looking at her intently to assure her there’s nothings to be afraid of, “I’m here to make sure you drive it right.”

She scoffs nervously, “Is there a wrong way to drive it?”

“Plenty, actually. Relax your hold I said,” he instructs her again, “Baby, if it’s too tight, you won’t feel what the car is telling you.”

“Telling me?” she echoes, glancing at him with furrowed brows.

Lando nods, “Yeah. The car talks to you, just not with words. It tells you when it wants to rotate, when it has grip, when you need to be gentle or when you can push,” he says, gesturing toward the long straight. “Speaking of. Go on, give it some gas.”

Her heart jumps into her throat, but she listens, pressing down on the accelerator tentatively. The car responds instantly, surging forward with smooth, controlled aggression. She gasps, the force pressing her back against the seat, and Lando chuckles beside her.

“That’s it,” he praises. “A lot of power, hm?”

She lets out a breathy laugh, still nervous but slowly melting into the feeling of it all.

“Next, the corners,” Lando adds, eyes locked on the road as they approach one. “You want to brake before you turn, not while you’re turning. That’s how you keep it stable.”

She follows his words, pressing down on the brakes a little too early, but the car slows smoothly.

“Good,” he says, nodding approvingly. “Turn in,” he pauses, lips quirking into a smirk. “Like the way you move your hips when you ride me. Controlled, but with intention.”

Her foot nearly slips off the pedal. “Lando, stop that!” she squeaks, turning her head for a second, just to glare at him.

She feels the tires gripping the asphalt in a way that sends a thrill through her, despite the nerves still buzzing beneath the surface.

“I’m trying to speak your language,” he laughs, “Ease off the throttle and prepare to brake again,” Lando’s voice is smooth, “Yes, keep your foot light on the brake. Feel it?”

She does. While following his instructions, gently, she eases her foot off the gas, then applies just the right pressure to the brake, her heart racing with each turn. Lando watches her closely, but she can tell he’s holding back, not overloading her with instructions but guiding her just enough so she feels the car’s movements.

“Perfection,” he praises as she hits the apex of the corner, the car hugging the track with a controlled grace. “Accelerate again, gently. Let the car do the work for you. Don’t overthink it.”

She hesitates for a moment, her fingers adjusting their grip on the wheel, before she picks up speed, feeling the engine roaring beneath her. Despite the fear gnawing at her, there’s a strange thrill beginning to bubble inside, a sense of freedom she’s never felt before. She can feel the car responding to her, listening to her movements, exactly like Lando told her it will. Which makes her eager to go faster, to push.

But as she rounds another corner, a new wave of uncertainty floods her chest, and she glances over at her boyfriend again. “Lando, I don’t know…”

“You do,” Lando’s voice is almost a growl, “Bury your foot on the pedal. See what this car is capable of.”

Her pulse quickens, but there’s more excitement behind it now. With Lando’s words echoing in her mind, she takes a deep breath, presses her foot into the pedal, and feels the car surge beneath her. For a moment, he senses her hesitation, but then the car roars to life, and she feels the pull and the adrenaline racing through her veins. The acceleration is immediate and, before she knows it, the world outside blurs, the track stretching out before her like an endless ribbon.

To her surprise, she loves the feeling.

Next time he speaks, Lando’s words sound like a whisper over the roar of the engine, “That’s it, baby,” his eyes sparkle with approval, and she can hear the pride in his voice all over again. “You did it!”

THERE IS A faint smell of leftover takeout that lingers in the air, blending with the sweet vanilla of the birthday muffins he insisted on getting as dessert. There will be a cake and they’ll get to properly celebrate with her friends at the end of the week but, until then, her birthday was a success, topped with adrenaline and excitement, which she never thought she would ever enjoy.

Now, she stands by the full-length closet mirror, running a brush through her hair, the weight of the day settling into her body. It was terrifying yet thrilling in ways she hadn’t expected. What surprises her even more is her sudden desire to get back in the driver’s seat. She’s slowly realizing how addictive the feeling she experienced on the track is, and even though she knows that driving around the city won’t compare to what Lando offered her today, she feels — perhaps for the first time in her life — ready to take that step.

Lando moves behind her right after she puts the brush down, wrapping his arms around her waist, pressing his chest against her back.

“So, when can I drive again?” he hears her asking in a teasing voice, though there’s a genuine spark of nervousness behind it.

He smirks against the curve of her neck, lips barely brushing her skin. “You can give me another ride now, since you insist,” Lando suggests, his voice dripping with smugness.

She rolls her eyes and, twisting in his hold, she faces him, her hands sliding up his chest, fingertips tracing the contours of his collarbones. “Sounds good, but aren’t you afraid that too much control will get to my head?”

“Not at all.”

Lando steps forward, kissing her with enough force to show her that he means every word. His hands are now everywhere — on her hips, up and down her back, in her hair, then gripping her thighs as he lifts her effortlessly. She lets a surprised gasp into his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist as he presses her back against the mirror. It’s hard against her skin, a stark contrast to the softness rolling off him in waves.

Her fingers end up tangling in his soft curls, tugging just enough to make Lando groan, a sound she’s never learned how to properly react to, since it drives her wild every single time she hears it. He tastes like the vanilla from the muffin that they shared earlier, so sweet and sinful.

When he comes back to his senses, Lando brushes his nose against hers, his voice hushed but firm, “I’m so proud of you, you know that?” he asks in a whispered voice. “You’re gonna do great.”

A shiver runs down her spine, not just from his words but from the unwavering belief behind them. Lando has always been her greatest cheerleader, the one who never let her doubt herself, even when she wanted to.

Her exhale is soft as a baby’s breath, fueled by the praise that sets her skin ablaze. “Lando,” she whispers, wrapping her arms tighter around his neck.

He chuckles, the sound of it full of want. “Right here, baby. What do you need?”

She can’t use her words at the moment. Instead, she just presses herself closer to him, silently telling him what she needs. And Lando gets the message loud and clear. With a firm grip, he walks them toward the bed, her body flush against his.

Clothes come off in a frenzy: her shirt lifted over her head, his sweatpants kicked away, her underwear dragged down her thighs in a rush. His lips are on her skin the entire time, trailing fire along her collarbones, down the valley between her breasts and over the curve of her stomach.

When she’s bare beneath him, he pulls back, drinking her in.

“Want on top?” asks Lando, a little smirk hanging in the corner of his mouth.

The girl shakes her head, “You first,” she teases, already breathless.

He doesn’t answer, but runs a hand down his face before gripping her thighs and flipping her onto her stomach. She gasps as he positions himself behind her, big hands spreading across her waist. Lando’s fingers flex, gripping her like she belongs to him in ways neither of them can describe, but both agree on.

Gently, he presses a kiss to her shoulder blade, then another, before dragging his teeth along her heated skin. “Let me show you how high confidence can get you, baby.”

And then, he pushes inside.

A muffled moan spills from her lips, her back arching hard into him as he bottoms out, filling her completely. He presses his lips in a thin line at the feeling, at the way she welcomes him so perfectly, clenching around him like she was made for this. It’s hard to keep quiet, yet he wants to give himself the priviledge of being able to feel her like this a little longer.

“God, you feel so good,” he mumbles, his hands sliding up to her shoulders, fingers curling around them.

“Move then,” she orders, managing to get a chuckle out of him.

Lando’s thrusts are calculated at first, dragging along every sensitive spot inside her, pulling sounds out of her that go straight to his cock. But then he shifts, picking up speed, pounding into her with a precision that leaves her gasping further more.

Before she knows it, she’s drowning in all of it. The feeling of him, the way he takes control, and how patient he is with her.

“Lando,” she whines, voice muffled against the sheets.

“I know, baby,” he breathes, bending over her, pressing a hand to the pillow beside her head. “Just take it.”

He switches between teasing strokes and deep, hard thrusts, keeping her on edge, making her feel every inch of is length. The air around them is charged, filled with the scent of skin and something intoxicatingly sweet. Heat clings to them, heavy and thick, as if the room itself is suddenly caught in the same fever they are.

When he feels her tightening around him way too soon, Lando doesn’t hesitate to flip her onto her back again, eyes locked onto hers as he slides home once more. She whimpers at the quick change, at the way he goes so deep in this new position, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, pulling him even closer. Lando whimpers, dropping his forehead to hers, breath ragged against her lips.

“Look at you,” he can barely speak, “So. Good.”

She shivers at the praise, nails raking down his back, grounding herself in the heat of his skin. He watches her, pupils blown wide, drinking in every expression that flits across her face, from the parted lips and the way her brows knit together as pleasure overwhelms her, to the sheer need burning in her gaze. It’s almost too much for him, but the desire to see her crumbling for him like that is stronger.

The roll of his hips, every stretch, and every inch of him pressing into her it’s enough to send shudders through her body. He feels her everywhere: surrounding him, clinging to him like she’s planning to never let him go. And fuck, he never wants her to.

His hands roam her body, admiring every soft dip of her skin. One traces the swell of her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple before his lips follow, dragging warm, open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone, her neck, and anywhere he can reach. She tilts her head back, offering more of herself to him, and he groans against her skin, nipping at her pulse just to feel the way she gasps.

“Harder,” she breathes in such wrecked manner that sends a bolt of heat straight through him.

His body tenses for a split second before a sudden hunger flickers in his eyes. No hesitation. No teasing. Just a low, guttural curse as he grips her hips and thrusts into her with purpose, each snap of his hips punishing in the best way possible.

“That good for you?” he rasps, voice tight with control, but his pace says he’s barely holding on. She nods, but it’s not enough for him. Lando grips her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Let me hear you.”

“Yes,” she moans, voice breaking as he drives into her harder. “Yes, you feel so good, baby. Don’t stop...”

Lando finds the strength to smile at her, watching her slowly coming undone beneath him, her body arching, legs tightening around his waist. “Won’t,” he assures her, “You take it so well, it drives me crazy,” he groans, his hand sliding between them, fingers finding that sensitive bundle of nerves, circling, teasing.

Her legs start trembling around his waist, and he knows she’s close. He can feel it in the way her body is betraying her, spasming around him, the way her breaths grow uneven, and how her hands tighten in his hair as if anchoring herself to him.

“Mhm,” he hums, his forehead pressed to hers. “Ready to come with me, love?”

She doesn’t have time to answer as she moans his name, a cry lost in their furtive kiss, just as her body tightens around him, pulling him over the edge right with her. His repetitive moans are maddening as he spills inside her, hips jerking, hands gripping her with a force that’s going to leave marks.

After that, he refuses to move. They just breathe, chests colliding against each other, bodies pressed so tightly together that it’s impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins.

Then, Lando tilts his head, pressing another lazy kiss to her lips before whispering against them. “Best student I’ve ever had.”

She laughs, smacking his shoulder, but she doesn’t deny it.

A shiver rolls down Lando’s spine as he pulls out, his body thrumming with aftershocks, oversensitive but still craving her. His eyes flutter shut for a second at the feeling — she’s still so tight, greedily clenching around nothing, the evidence of their release slick between them, a mess they should deal with but won’t. Not yet.

His cock, still heavy and slick, rests between them, twitching slightly as he leans down to kiss her again. It’s slow, languid, an extension of the pleasure still simmering in the air between them. His lips move against hers with a practiced ease, his body pressing into her as if he’s trying to mold them into one.

Then, his hand finds her neck. He squeezes lightly, just enough to make her breath hitch; his smirk against her lips is pure sin.

“Get on top,” he orders, voice thick with something commanding. His hands find her hips again, thumbs stroking the heated skin there. “I want you to reproduce every single thing I explained to you at the circuit today. Show me what you learned,” he provokes her, eyes dark with challenge.

She bites the inside of her cheek, chest burning at the way he looks at her — his lips parted, eyes filled with lust —, fueling her desire to show off.

Slowly, she sinks down onto him, gasping at the way he stretches her as if he wasn’t inside her not even two minutes ago. She lifts herself before easing back down, soon finding a rhythm that makes him curse under his breath.

“Keep your grip firm,” Lando instructs, trailing his fingers up her spine. “Don’t be afraid to push a little harder.”

She presses her hands to his chest and moves faster, earning a deep, satisfied moan from him.

“Fuck,” Lando swears under his breath, eyes flickering between her face and the way she moves on top of him. “Such a fast learner.”

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

Thank you for reading!

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rei-plswork · 2 days ago

Text

Oh ho? Interesting...

Impartial Hearts | Sylus - Part One

Pairing -> Boss Sylus x Non MC Reader

Parts -> Part One | Part Two (TBA)

Synopsis -> You’ve been working as Onychinus’s accountant for two years, and you’ve been carrying two heavy secrets for a third of it. You were in love with your boss, and your mother was dying.

A/N -> Guys this shit is just sad icl I need to lay off the sad songs... anyways, reader is not MC but MC is mentioned I called her 'Miss Hunter' or 'MC' bc I couldn't come up with a name, sorry.

EDIT: Thanks for all the love <33333 I honestly didn’t expect so many people to want a part two, I promise it’s in the works and I’ll try to get it out ASAP.

Trigger Warnings -> Death mentioned, heart issues mentioned.

Word Count -> 7.3K

“I’m sorry, what?” The question slipped out of your lips without much of an attempt from your brain to restrain it. You regretted that instantly.

“Watch your tone, Y/N.” The scarily low timbre in Sylus’s voice threatened retribution if you didn’t.

“Sorry… It’s just that— are you sure? I feel like this is a decision that requires a little bit more contemplation. Like getting a dog!” You tried to backpedal, but from the look of Sylus’s narrowing eyes, he wasn’t happy with your response.

“Are you comparing her to a dog?” There was a threat thinly encased in Sylus’s question and under the thick layers of fear, you felt the slightest pang of jealousy that the he felt so strongly about defending her honour.

What a dramatic and far-fetched conclusion. You wanted to say, but instead you bit your tongue.

“N-No! Of course not. Not at all. I’m just wondering if wiring her such a significant sum from your equity account is a good idea when you met her—” You make a show of glancing at your shabby watch “— 13 hours ago is a sound decision.”

“So you’re questioning my judgement? Is that it?”

You couldn’t blame him for being difficult, you walked right into that one.

“No! Well… yes?” One would think that after two years of working for Sylus, you’d have the ability to stand your ground against him. But there was only so far someone could push a man like Sylus before he deemed you irredeemable. The consequence of which involved a hollow point in your skull.

“Wrong answer. Wire it. Now. I’ll deal with your insubordination later.” He quickly left the room that doubled as your ‘office’; you shared it with the twins who liked to use it as their reprieve from crime. You wouldn’t have minded had they chosen less rambunctious ways of cooling-down, like reading or watching a show. Instead they’d play-fight, actually fight, play video games on the loudest volume or — the worst option of all — karaoke.

The sarcastic yes sir died on your tongue as quickly as it crossed your mind. You pissed him off far more than usual today, and he was already way more tense since her arrival.

Miss Hunter. Sylus kept her first name under lock-and-key, said it was safer that way. You barely caught a glimpse of her as Sylus dragged her out of his office, which was across from yours. From the glimpse you did catch, she was beautiful. Fair skin, jet black hair, a fit body. Her outfit, which was the Hunter’s Association standard issue uniform, had never looked so good.

From what you knew from shameless eavesdropping, she was extremely important to Sylus. She was part of some critical master plan you weren’t privy to.

You hated her.

Albeit, completely unfounded, your hatred for her stemmed from an ugly feeling you could not shake. In the two years you worked as an accountant for Onychinus, Sylus touched you once. Correction, you touched him once accidentally when you had too much to drink with the twins after work. You were taking careful steps to the bar to pour yourself another glass of a gross vodka raspberry mixture when you tripped on the edge of one of Sylus’s extremely expensive rugs. Your feet pedalled forward in an attempt to keep you upright, and you clashed right into Sylus who was innocently scrolling through his phone on the wall next to the bar.

You could recall the fear you felt vividly. You almost felt the same wedge lodged in your throat. Sylus quickly removed you from him, steadying you with his cold palms on your shoulders (an action that made you blush like a schoolgirl) before verbally deeming you cut-off from all liquor from the night.

That was the full extent of all physical contact you’d had with Sylus in two whole years, meanwhile it took Miss Hunter less than 24-hours before he was holding her hand. God, you hated her.

“Oi, Y/N, we’re using the company card for lunch today.” Luke quickly yelled out to you from the hallway, too engrossed in your self-loathing and plain old regular loathing, you forgot to remind Luke that they only had $40 left on their weekly lunch budget.

Knowing the twins, they wouldn’t have cared anyway, creating yet another problem you had to fix.

Looking at the excel sheet that contained this month’s trial balance, you shivered at the thought of having to deal with Sylus’s wrath at yet another monthly increase in expenses. So, you shifted the remaining balance on your lunch budget, a generous $255, into the twin’s joint account. It was only Thursday morning, and they’d managed to max-out their $1000 budget.

You hated them too.

You looked through your drawer in hopes you had a leftover snack that could sadly double as your lunch and felt a wave of relief at the sight of a protein bar.

It wasn’t like Sylus didn’t pay you enough to afford your own lunch, in fact he was the most generous employer you’d ever had. But the only thing bigger than his bank account was corporate greed, and the blood-sucking heathens at Akso hospital were milking you dry.

Life in the N109 Zone wasn’t easy for most people, especially your mother who raised you all on her own after your father left. She worked 3 jobs to put you through university in Linkon, so the least you could do was use every last cent you made on ensuring she had the best medical treatment money could buy.

Your mother had a bad heart ever since she was born, it was a hereditary condition that would sometimes skip a generation only to show up in the next. She had an atrial septal defect, or in another words, a hole in her heart. You were born with one too, although yours was much smaller. She’d undergone several surgeries to repair the hole, but it reopened, and now the scar tissue surrounding the surgical site was obstructing her arteries. She was now on bypass patiently awaiting a heart transplant you couldn’t quite afford, but you’d make it happen. You were sure of it.

With half the protein bar in your mouth, you began to call Dr Zayne, the cardiovascular surgeon who was overseeing your mother’s care. You called him for updates on your mother and the transplant list every day, since a train ticket to Linkon was too big an expense to justify, you’d settle for Dr Zayne’s cold recollections of your mother’s heart function.

“Ah, Miss L/N, I was beginning to think you weren’t going to call today.” The dead-pan sarcasm dripped from his tone.

“Your bedside manner needs serious work.” You bit back. You weren’t sure when or how your relationship with your mother’s doctor turned so hostile, but you figured the busy chief of surgery was annoyed by your constant calls.

“Need I remind you, Y/N, you’re not the patient.”

“There isn’t a waking second I’m not thinking about the patient, Dr Zayne.”

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air at your confession. You didn’t mean to make him feel guilty, in all honesty, you looked forward to the banter before the updates on your mom, it helped ease the nerves.

“Do you want to see her?”

“Of course, but I’m working a lot.”

“No, I mean right now.”

“Are you finally letting me borrow the hospital helicopter?”

“No, but I will let you borrow my phone so you can FaceTime her.”

His kind offer caught you off guard. “Really?!”

“Sure, you caught me in a rare moment where I don’t have someplace to be.”

“It must be Christmas.”

“Rarer than Christmas. Think solar eclipse.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Now give me my mother.”

Zayne kept his promise, and you spoke to your mother for your entire lunch break, and then some. You would’ve continued talking to her until the sunset if not for Sylus’s interruption.

“I don’t pay you to FaceTime your friends, Y/N.”

“Sorry, I have to go. Talk to you later. I love you!” Your mother rasped out that she loved you too before you quickly hung up the phone.

“Sorry.” Your apology fell on deaf ears as Sylus took slow, deliberate steps toward your desk.

“Do you hate this job?” Sylus’s asked this deceivingly innocuous question while sliding a finger across the mahogany tabletop.

“Um… no?” You placed your hands in your lap as you answered to hide the slight tremor.

“You sound unsure.”

“I like this job very much.” You made the declaration with as much confidence as you could muster. Your mood was already depleted from seeing your mother’s sick face for the first time in months. She wasn’t looking any healthier, and Zayne told you she’d barely moved up the list.

107. There were 107 people who’s lives were more important than the woman who raised you. You were well aware that wasn’t the way they calculated the metric, but it didn’t make the number hurt any less.

Sylus let out an sigh that suggested whatever he’d say next was a much tamer version of what he truly wanted to say. “Then I’d suggest you start acting like it. Remember, sweetheart, everyone’s replaceable. Especially you.”

His comment stung like antiseptic on an open wound, though you were sure that was his intention.

“Right. Of course. I won’t let you down.”

“For your sake, I hope not. The twins told me they went to that seafood buffet for lunch, you haven’t let them go over the budget again, have you?”

You quickly pulled up the online banking account connected to the company card. You saw the $189.95 charge for the seafood buffet and swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Nope, it’s all dandy.” You gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. He noticed.

“Good. You wire that money like I asked?” The venom in his tone alleviated, and you were glad at least one thing seemed to have worked out for you that day.

But alas, your joy was short-lived.

“Yes, an hour ago, but it’s still processing until you put in your access code.” You moved away from the computer to give him room to step around and put in the code like he usually did. However, his feet never moved from their position in front of your desk.

“Why didn’t you tell me that?” Just like that, his voice was all venom again.

You were beginning to grow agitated with his misplaced anger constantly being taken out on you. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, he’d tear into you like a bear would a boxing bag and then act like everything was fine the next day. You never got an apology, you knew not to expect one.

But lately these fits of unbridled rage came about more often than not, and Sylus took a shovel to your mole hill of resolve every time.

“I always need your access code on transfers over $500,000. I’ve never told you before, I just assumed—”

“Are you stupid?” You didn’t bother answering the mean rhetorical question. “What about this transaction seemed usual to you? Did I not convey my urgency effectively earlier? Or are there rocks where your brain should be?” His voice never went up in volume, but you could tell he was angry. Livid even. Seething with fury at your supposed incompetence.

Your eyes welled up with tears at his outburst. Normally you could take whatever insults he’d throw at you with little outward reaction, but you were particularly sensitive from the sandwich-shaped hole in your stomach, and the maternal hole in your heart which ached every second, reminding you of the much bigger one your mother bore.

Before you could stop it, a tear rolled down your cheek, and the second you registered the sensation you quickly went to wipe it.

“Stop crying.” Sylus ordered.

“I’m not—crying.” Your voice betrayed you, a hitch in your throat interrupting the sentence. The tears began to stream down faster, so fast your hands couldn’t keep up.

You prepared yourself for a speech about how weak you were, how he wouldn’t tolerate such inane shows of infirmity. But all Sylus did was watch as you embarrassingly tried to pull yourself together.

You weren’t sure how much time passed before Sylus moved next to you, hunching down to input his code into the transaction. His eyes glanced at the second monitor, displaying the company card’s account, and he zeroed in at the twin’s charge, and your lack thereof.

“Did you have lunch?” Sylus’s voice was softer, you attributed that to the fact that he was inches away from you. The question was so out of left-field it actually caused your tears to cease.

“Yeah?”

“You didn’t use the card.” Your eyes followed his to the bank statement and you let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, I had some extra cash on me I wanted to get rid of.”

“You’re supposed to use the card, Y/N. That’s what it’s for.”

“It’s fine, I’ll have an extra big lunch tomorrow. Granted you’re not firing me?” You were only half-joking, but you could’ve sworn you saw the corners of his lips perk up in an almost-smile before he shut it straight down.

“I won’t fire you if you tell me what’s got you this upset? I’m not so proud as to assume it was me.” It was that moment you realised Sylus was capable of feeling empathy. He was aware of how hurtful he was being all those times he’d berate you over the smallest inconveniences for virtually no reason, and he simply didn’t care.

It was far worse to know that he did possess empathy, but chose not to extend it to you.

“It’s just that time of the month.” You lied, convincingly. You’d mull over your blatant betrayal to feminism later, but for now you needed a means of shutting this inquiry down and quickly. You didn’t want anyone knowing about your mom, you were sure the pity would destroy you. She wasn’t going to die, and you didn’t want people to treat you like she might.

Sylus waited for the transfer to clear before he left. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when the door closed behind him.

“Are you sure we only have $105 on our lunch budget.” Luke’s question grated on your frayed nerves.

“$105 and five cents.” Your distinction didn’t do much help.

“Come on, can’t you do your weird accounty magic and make more appear? We want steak.” Kiernan’s plea wasn’t helping either. You’d exhausted every last option, anything else would definitely cause alarms when Sylus eventually reviewed the accounts.

“I already did all I could, I gave you an extra $255!” And a fat good that did you, now you were hungry and annoyed.

“Well, we both know there’s plenty more where that came from.”

There really wasn’t, but you didn’t tell them that.

“I’m sorry, $105 is all you’ve got.”

“Fine. But we’re very unhappy with you, Y/N. Very unhappy.” Luke chastised you, but you couldn’t even pretend to care.

“Better you than Sylus, now please leave.” The twins opened their mouths with a retort, but a domineering voice interrupted them.

“You heard her. Beat it and stop bothering my accountant.”

The twins scurried at the sound of Sylus’s voice, and you wondered how much of that conversation he overheard.

“So, where did that extra $255 come from, Y/N?”

Too much of the conversation. Way too much.

“My budget.” You cut your losses and told him the truth. Any other answer would have surely pissed him off.

“I give you $300 for the whole week. Your sandwich costs $15. Either you haven’t been eating, or you've been paying out of your own pocket against my orders. Which is it?”

Well, that was a lose-lose situation if there ever was one. You didn’t want to deal with the questions about why you were skipping meals, so you lied again. You always were an exceptional liar, your mother taught you that the less people knew about you, the less they had to hurt you with.

“I made too much food for dinner so I had leftovers. It’s no biggie.” You didn’t even look up from your screen as the lie left your lips.

“What leftovers?” He asked.

“Pasta.” You answered.

“What kind?”

“Alfredo.”

“With mushrooms?”

“Yeah.”

“You hate mushrooms.”

Shit. Why did he know that?

“I had a change of heart.”

“You’re lying.”

You bit your lip in worry, wondering how you were going to get yourself out of this one.

You stalled as much as you could, pretending to be engrossed in something on your screen, until the sound of Sylus’s phone ringing broke the tension.

You internally thanked every deity that could possibly be watching over you as he took the call, and prayed to all of them that it would be something urgent.

You heard the faint sounds of a feminine voice through his phone.

“Kitten, where are you?”

Wait, who’s kitten?

“Just calm down, tell me where you are.” Sylus didn’t even give you a second glance as he quickly stormed out of your office. Leaving you to mull over the intimate pet name, knowing exactly who it was intended for.

As Sylus left the room you reflected on the cacophony your feelings created in your mind. You weren’t sure when you developed such strong feelings for Sylus — or why. His personality was the antithesis of yours. Where he would free fall off of the proverbial cliff of his life without a second thought, every risk you took was meticulously calculated. Where he was rough and respected, you were sort of a pushover. Where his deadpan sense of humour tended to elicit more fear than laughter, you had an awkward habit of cracking jokes in situations they were not appropriate.

You were polar opposites, two parallel lines that were destined never to intertwine. You figured that was why everything hurt so much around him. He wasn’t right for you, but he would be right for someone else.

The envy you’d carried for so long began to subside for the first time in years. Sylus had an array of estranged lovers that he’d bring around his mansion every once in a while, and now Miss Hunter. But for the first time the reminder of that fact didn’t hurt as much as it usually did.

It was Mid-September and you warned yourself that if you couldn’t eliminate all the romantic feelings you had for Sylus by the end of Autumn, you’d cut your losses and quit.

Of course, you’d have to find another job that paid just as well, but you were willing to cross that bridge when it came to it. There was only so much turmoil your fragile heart could take, and if you were dead, your mother would be as good as dead too.

Happy with your iron-clad plan, you opened up your notes app and began to draft ‘Operation Sylus: No More’. You could change the name later.

Operation Sylus: No More

The foolproof guide of getting rid of all feelings Sylus related by the end of November.

Step 1: avoid Sylus and all thoughts of him at all costs.

Step 2: no more funny jokes, his laugh is seriously deadly.

Step 3: force yourself to remember Miss Hunter in moments of weakness. She’s the one he really wants.

Step 4: try to find love elsewhere, like the corner shop owner, he may be in his 50s and happily married but he’s kind of a silver-fox!

Step 5: do not, under any circumstances, allow yourself to be alone with Sylus for too long.

You looked back at your list, proud of the relatively easy steps to follow. This should be a cakewalk. Whoever said you couldn’t be the master of your own feelings clearly never met you.

“Boss needs you in his office. He says bring your laptop.” Kiernan’s voice broke your focus. You were almost finished with the end of year report for this financial year, a task Sylus forced you to complete annually. It was meaningless, considering Onychinus wasn’t necessarily a legitimate business listed on the stock exchange, but you took it seriously nonetheless.

“Okay, I’ll be right there.” You felt Kiernan’s eyes bore into you as you continued to make minor edits to the report. You’d sleep so much better once this 180 page document was out of your life.

“He needs you now, Y/N. We’re both toast if you make him wait.” You sighed and couldn’t help but roll your eyes at Sylus’s lack of empathy for your large workload.

You berated your past self for being so eager for this role, completing far too many tasks far too quickly, and setting the precedent that you were some sort of accounting machine. You really should learn to stick to the bare minimum.

You walked over to the door leading to his office, and gave it a soft rap with your knuckles. The door opened by itself, or rather with the help of Sylus’s evol, to the sight of him leaning back in his chair, with Miss Hunter sitting directly in front of him on his desk.

Step 3 of your guide felt less like a friendly reminder and more like a stab in the gut. Think of corner-shop man. Think of corner-shop man. Think of corner-shop man.

“We don’t have all day, sit down, Y/N.” Sylus’s command woke you from your trance, and you hoped your envy wasn’t as obvious as you thought it was.

This was the first time you’d seen Miss Hunter up close, and when your eyes travelled to meet hers, she gave you a warm smile. You felt like the shittiest person to exist for ever hating her.

Your eyes scanned the room for somewhere to sit. The chairs opposite his seemed like they would intrude on the intimate moment he was clearly having with Miss Hunter, so you settled on an armchair in the corner that had a coffee table in front of it.

Sylus sighed and didn’t even bother to ask you to move before he used his evol to whisk you up and deposit your body onto the chair at his table like a rag doll. You hated when he used his evol on you, it felt like the arms of a prickly cactus.

“In a few minutes, I’ll be getting a phone call from a possible investor. He’s extremely exclusive and known for running tests on his potential partners before agreeing to invest with them. My intel suggests he’s going to propose a joint project, but the numbers he’ll give me will be far off. I need to counter-propose numbers that would generate a high return and quickly, or he’ll hang up and I’ll never hear from him again. So, open up your laptop and prepare, because if you tank this for me, there will no longer be a place for you here. Understood?”

When Sylus did things like that, it made it easier to love him a little less. He could be a complete and utter dick sometimes, and while you’d learned to accept it as a human flaw, recently it seemed more like a permanent predisposition.

Perhaps Sylus was nice to you because you were entertaining, now that he had someone better to occupy his time, you were nothing more than a forgotten bygone.

“Yeah, I got it.” You opened up an excel sheet with a project analysis template. These were the types of questions you’d get in your first year accounting courses but you let Sylus think it was much harder than it actually was — just to make him sweat.

When the phone rang, Sylus’s muscles grew tense and Miss Hunter gave him a comforting squeeze on his shoulder. You bit your lip to hide the sudden scowl on your face. Think of corner-shop man. Think of corner-shop man. Think of corner-shop man.

Your eyes bore into your excel sheet with an intensity that would’ve produced laser beams in an alternate reality. You focused entirely on the calculations, listening intently to the brassy voice of the investor on the phone.

It didn’t take you long to generate the minimum initial investment they’d need to generate some form of return, as well as the payback period. You wrote the numbers down on a notepad, and you let him do the rest.

When you heard the investor let out a humorous ‘I’m impressed’ you packed up your laptop and left the room without so much as a wave. You felt Sylus and Miss Hunter’s eyes follow you out of the room, but you didn’t bother looking back.

You felt the thin line between love and hate begin to grow blurry. Where Sylus was concerned, your feelings were as clear as the muddy water in a swamp. Maybe two and a half months was too much time. You needed these feelings gone expeditiously.

You decided to take your lunch early, and you left the extravagant mansion that doubled as HQ to find your bike. You couldn’t really afford a car, or a license, but your bright yellow bike could do everything a car could for a fraction of the price. You were in the process of strapping up your helmet when Luke walked up.

“What’s up with you lately?” His question was inevitable. You wondered how long it would take for someone to notice that you were fighting internal battles on every front. Your mother’s health, Sylus’s sudden chronic asshole syndrome flareup, your dwindling bank account.

“Nothing, I’ve just been tired.”

“Well, we’re having a few friends over tonight. Just a small group, if you’re not too tired, you should come.” Luke was the more sociable twin, and he was most likely extending this invitation to you out of pity, but you’d take anything over being trapped in your own mind.

“Will there be alcohol?” You quipped.

“Duh.” Luke’s response brought the first genuine smile to your face in weeks.

“I’ll be there.” After your agreement, you cycled away toward the corner shop for lunch.

It was a quaint bakery/deli run by a Turkish man who you knew on a first name basis. He was aged-like-fine-wine handsome. Features weathered tastefully by age, with a full head of hair that quelled your fears of your future children inheriting the early onset male pattern baldness gene.

But when you entered the store and saw Mr Demir, there were no butterflies. Your heart didn’t skip a beat. Your hands didn’t even quiver as you paid for the sandwich. In fact, they were so steady you figured you could give Dr Zayne a run for his money.

Speaking of Dr Zayne, his daily updates were growing scarcer in detail, and you were worried that something was wrong. He insisted he was just busy and since your mother had moved up to 93 on the transplant list, you let it slide.

“You know you’re allowed to try the other sandwiches, right?” Mr Demir’s handsome face contorted into a teasing smile, and if he didn’t own this shop with his beautiful wife, you might’ve asked him to marry you then and there.

“I like this one. Your family is very talented.” You smiled at him, but it seemed even he could tell that it wasn’t genuine.

“You’re getting skinnier you know, and you haven’t been coming as often. Is something wrong or are you cheating on me with a salad store?” His joke brought a giggle out of you.

You never thought that people noticed you in a way that was significant. You felt as if you were akin to a missing bird poster on a telephone pole in the middle of a busy street. People would glance at it, remember how common and undistinguishable birds are, and forget it ever existed.

Mr Demir’s concern warmed your heart, and you promised that if you ever won the lottery, you would give him half.

“I’ve just been cooking more, that’s all. Thank you Mr Demir, say hello to your wife for me!” You gave him a small wave as you exited the shop and the weight suffocating your chest was a little lighter.

Mr Demir’s family had boundless love to share, and while their shop was small, they were happy. Maybe things would work out for you and your mother after all.

The rest of the workday passed by like a fever dream. You finally managed to complete the annual report, a copy of it sitting in Sylus’s email, surely unopened. He left soon after that phone call with Miss Hunter, you didn’t bother to ask where.

The mansion was empty when you turned off the last monitor, and you thought you’d start pre-gaming early. Sylus always warned all of you that his bar was off-limits unless he stated otherwise, but the man had so much alcohol, you doubted he’d ever notice.

He only drank red wine and whiskey, and you hated wine, so you settled for an almost full bottle of whiskey. You took one sip and realised you couldn’t stand the taste either, but it was still better than the wine, so you chugged glass after glass like they were shots.

The heavy alcohol burned your throat on the way down and continued to burn in your stomach, but the feeling kept you warm so you didn’t really mind. You’d consumed half the bottle by the time the twins returned with two other men and one girl following in suit.

“Y/N! Good, you’re here. Help me set up the drinks on the table.” You nodded your head at Luke’s request, knowing your speech would likely be slurred.

You helped him line up the bottles of cheap tequila, vodka, fireball and a fear-inducing amount of absinthe. These cheap spirits were much more your speed.

“Alright, we’re starting with truth or dare. Pick your poison and sit around the coffee table.” Kiernan’s announcement had everyone scattering around the coffee table with cups in hand. You opted for the fireball, too scared to mix alcohol this early in the night.

You recognised everyone from another one of the twin’s impromptu parties. They only ever threw them when they were sure Sylus would be gone overnight. You didn’t let yourself dwell on where he was or who he was with.

The game was more entertaining than you expected, everyone had interesting questions, and when it came to dares, the twins always had something sadistic in mind.

It was your turn when they decided to up the stakes. You were already wasted, so you committed to answering whatever question they pummelled at you.

“Truth.”

“You’re so boring, you always pick truth.” Luke whined, his arm shaking yours in protest.

“That’s because I’m scared of your dares.”

Luke rolled his eyes but conceded.

“Fine. How many people have you slept with?”

All conversations came to a stifling halt as everyone’s eyes landed on you. Far too embarrassed to tell 5 people you barely knew that you were still a virgin, you changed your answer. There was nothing to be ashamed of, but you knew the twins would mercilessly make fun of you, and you didn't have the energy to explain that between the constant pressure to succeed for your mother, and her eventual illness, your love life had been placed on the back-burner.

“Dare.”

“You know the rules, if you switch options and refuse to do it, you have to finish everyone’s drinks.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hit me.” You glared at Luke with determination. You should’ve known that when everyone was this drunk, the dares could only get progressively more outrageous.

“I dare you to call Sylus and tell him you crashed his McLaren.” Luke looked proud of his dare, and the smile dropped from your face instantly.

Even Kiernan’s eyes flashed with concern before he broke out into an obnoxious laugh.

“Oh- Holy shit! That’s gold.” The words left Kieran’s mouth in-between his laughter. Everyone around the table looked at you eagerly.

You knew if you finished off everyone’s cups you’d definitely die, or worse, throw up.

“Fine.” Too drunk to realise the implications of what you were doing, you dialled Sylus. There was also the chance he just didn’t pick up, but four and a half rings later his annoyed voice resounded through the speaker of your phone.

“What is it?” From the sound of Sylus’s tone, you’d interrupted something important. You bit down the bitter feelings that threatened to spill out, and stuck to the objective.

“I have something to tell you, but you have to promise you won’t get mad.” There was no universe in which Sylus couldn’t tell you were drunk.

In all honesty, your phone call was a welcome reprieve from his mind-numbingly boring conversation with Linkon’s politicians. He’d offered to attend this event with MC with little thought as to what it would pertain. His eyes raked over her baby pink dress, and since he couldn’t get her out of it just yet, he entertained your drunk rambling.

“I don’t have to do anything.” Sylus expected you to apologise, but all he heard was a sound foreign to him. Were you laughing? Sylus heard indecipherable voices in the background, and he found himself wondering who was making you laugh.

“True. Okay well, you know that dark grey sports car you love soooooooooooo much?” Nice going, Y/N, remind him just how much he loves this car. You thought. The phone was on speaker, per the requests of the fellow attendees.

Everyone bit back laughs at the situation which was extremely unfunny to anyone with a blood alcohol level under 0.05.

“What did you do?” Sylus’s question had a deadly underpinning, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“I crashed it!” At your exclamation, the room exploded in laughter, and you muted the microphone quickly before Sylus could hear it.

“You crashed it?”

You quickly unmuted to add. “Yup! Absolutely totalled.”

“Are you okay? Where are you? I’m coming.”

The laughter immediately died down. That was not how he was supposed to react, not at all.

Luke and Kiernan gestured for you to shut it down and you quickly began to backtrack.

“No! No you don’t have to come home. I’m fine. It was just a prank.”

“Oh, so you’re at my place?” ShitShitShitShitShit.

“Yes… The twins and I had too much to drink and we thought it would be funny to prank you. I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t have interrupted your night.”

You braced yourself for the angry lecture on how Sylus’s time was more valuable the rarest ruby, but it never came.

“Just you and the twins, right?”

Luke and Kiernan gestured for you to agree.

“Yes.”

“You should probably call an exorcist.” Were you drunk or did he actually just tell you to call an exorcist?

“Huh?” Everyone in the room looked just as perplexed.

“You know, since those three other people in my living room must be apparitions.”

“You didn’t rig the camera?” Kiernan’s shrill scream was definitely registered by the phone’s mic.

“Fuck! I forgot.” Luke exclaimed in response as they scrambled to pack everything up.

“Um…” With everyone frantically running around the room, you were left to deal with Sylus’s wrath alone.

“How come you never laugh when you’re with me?” And with that question you were convinced the alcohol had induced auditory hallucinations.

“You’re not very funny.” You decided to play along, after all, imaginary Sylus was much more fun than the real one.

“Hmm, I thought I was.”

“Nope. All your jokes end in someone dying, and usually that someone is me.”

“Oh, sweetheart, those aren’t jokes.” That was something real Sylus would say. Damn, these auditory hallucinations were realistic.

“I know, I really thought you were going to kill me last week.” You let out an involuntary snort at the hilarious image of your head on a pike.

“Why’s that?”

“Because I screwed up that wire transfer to Miss Hunter. You were soooo mad. You must reaaaalllyyyy like her.”

“I guess I do.” The line went quiet on both ends after that.

This auditory hallucination was no fun following his confession, so you hung up. Sylus called a few times after, but you never noticed. The room began spinning and your eyes began watering, so you curled up on the floor until your head stopped pounding, but by then you were fast asleep.

Sylus returned to his mansion the next morning to find your office empty. It was still an hour before you were due to start, but you were always early.

With an internal promise to check again in an hour, he walked toward the living room. It didn’t take long before he noticed a mop of light brown hair on his rug.

He walked toward your sleeping form with indignation, only to find every ounce of anger sucked out of him when he knelt down to find your sleeping face.

He hadn’t been that close to you in what felt like forever. Was your face always that pale? His eyes caressed your under eye bags, and your hollow cheeks. He could’ve sworn they were fuller when he hired you. What happened to you?

Before Sylus could give in to the urge to wake you up and ask, your phone made a sound from the coffee table. He picked it up and saw you were getting a call from Zayne.

Who the fuck was Zayne?

He answered the phone before he could think it through.

“Oh, Y/N, good. I’ve been trying to reach you since last night.”

“You should’ve taken the hint.” Sylus couldn’t help the bite in his tone. He wasn’t sure why he was so angry at this Zayne, but his emotions were beginning to confuse him more often than he cared to admit.

“Who’s this?”

Sylus could’ve said that he was your boss. He should’ve said that he was your boss. But what he said instead…

“Y/N’s mine.” His employee, but that distinction didn’t seem necessary in the moment.

“Well, could you tell her to call me back as soon as possible. I have urgent news about her mother.”

The comment about her mother perplexed Sylus even more.

“Who are you?”

“I’m her mother’s heart surgeon. I have to go, have her call me soon.” Sylus felt stupid for the unnecessary show of hostility, but he only had more questions following Zayne’s answer.

It seemed the conversation was enough to wake you up from your slumber, and the moment you registered your surroundings, the headache you had was amplified tenfold. Your muscles hurt from sleeping on the hard floor, and you were sure your legs had morphed into jelly.

You were never drinking again.

“Well hello, sleeping beauty.” Sylus watched as you groggily rubbed your eyes. The right side of your face had an indent matching the pattern of his rug, and your hair was dishevelled. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“Sylus. I’m so sorry.” You spoke through a yawn before cradling your head in your hands. The world needed to stop spinning.

Sylus shoved an open bottle of water in your face, and you greedily snatched the peace offering before he had time to change his mind.

“Zayne called, said he had some news about your mother.”

You shot straight up, spilling some water in the process.

“What did he say? Where’s my phone?” You glanced at large Sylus’s hand which was wrapped around said phone. If you weren’t so worried about your mother, you might’ve found the sight of Sylus holding something covered in a floral case amusing. Powering through the piercing pain in your temple, you held your hand out.

“Please give it back.”

“What’s wrong with your mother?”

“Please Sylus, I can’t do this right now.” You tried to lunge for the phone, but he was faster. Raising his hand above his head and well out of your reach.

“You’ll have this back once you answer my question.”

“She has the flu. Now give it back.” You jumped up in a feeble attempt to retrieve the phone, but he was just so goddamn tall.

“I didn’t know flu treatment protocol involved heart surgery now. Guess I need to brush up on the latest medical news.” His sardonic tone made you scoff. Only Sylus could be such a dick while your mother's life was in limbo.

Curse Dr Zayne and his blabbermouth.

If it wasn’t for the severe hangover, you might’ve been able to think of an explanation. But you were so nervous you felt sick and you needed to know the news Dr Zayne had.

“Fine. She needs a heart transplant, she’s on coronary bypass and if she doesn’t get a heart soon she’ll die. Is that good enough for you?” You continued to try to reach the phone, not bothering to check Sylus’s reaction to your confession.

He dropped the phone in your hand and you all but sprinted out of the living room to make the phone call.

The line rang once, twice, three times before Zayne picked up.

“Y/N?”

“Yes! What’s wrong? Is my mom okay? Tell me she’s okay.”

“Slow down, she’s alive, but she had a cardiac event. Not a heart attack, but it still did some damage. Her condition is worse, much worse, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

Your back slumped against the wall of the hallway and you felt your knees give in as you slid to the floor.

“How long does she have?” The tears streaming down your face fell onto your shirt, leaving uncomfortable wet spots in their wake.

“A few weeks, a month’s top. But this did move her to the top of the list. She might get a transplant in time.” Zayne must have heard the sadness in your voice if he’d offered words of encouragement. He never did that.

“Thank you. I’m going to come see her.”

“I’ll get the nurses to bring in an extra bed. I’ll see you soon, Y/N.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to respond so you hung up instead. The pain in your head was now but a mere memory as your heart began to splinter into a million little pieces.

There was so much you still had to do. You needed to buy your mom her first ever house, and help her plant the prettiest flowers in the garden. You had to get her the dog she always dreamed about and the outdoor swing she missed from her childhood home. She still had to walk you down the aisle and sing your future children the lullabies she sang to you. She couldn’t go. Not yet.

You didn’t even notice Sylus enter the hallway until you felt him sitting down next to you. He wove an arm behind your head, bringing your face into his chest. The intimacy of the act only made you cry harder. The last person to hold you that close was your mom, a few days before she’d collapsed.

“It hurts.” You choked on your words and they came out muffled against Sylus’s chest.

“What hurts?” He asked.

“My heart. It really hurts, Sylus.” You sobbed harder. It felt good to finally admit that you weren’t okay. To have someone hold you as your life fell apart around you.

“Tell me what to do, Y/N. Anything.”

“Can I have some time off?” You took deep breaths as you tried to slow your crying down. You could break down once you reached the other side of this tumultuous predicament.

The humble request drove Sylus insane. He’d offer you his own heart to save your mother if he wasn’t sure it was severely damaged, and all you could think to ask for was time off.

“Of course.”

“Can you give me a ride to Linkon?”

That request was a little better, but still not enough.

“I’ll take you now, come on.”

“No wait, I need to go home and pack some things. I’ll be back in an hour.”

“You know you can still get a DUI on a pedal bike, right?”

“I’m not drunk.”

“But there’s still alcohol in your system, and you’re very upset. It won’t be safe, I’ll take you home on the way. Let’s go.” He stood up, his hand outstretched toward you.

And with a heavy heart, you took Sylus’s hand.

Part two TBA.

#I guess ima wait #love and deepspace #lads sylus #angst #i hope there’s fluff #fluff #smau

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