#I wonder if when I do eventually get better

[requiemforthepoets]

ain’t nothing like an asian wedding! 𖦹 LN4

part one

PAIRINGS: lando norris x female!asian!reader

SUMMARY: you and lando just wanted to make the most of your singapore trip before heading off to the UK, but it seems like everything descended into series of unfortunate events. though maybe, this is also a way to get lando be acquainted with everyone that may or may not drive your whole family crazy and singapore’s social elites on a daily basis.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: non-use of y/n, reader is asian, foul language, traditional family, asian culture & tradition, food, google translated chinese, mentions of gutted fish, crazy rich asians inspired + plot, heiress reader, named characters (except reader, names are mostly taken from CRA), social status, high society, minor public indecency (not main characters), mentions of marriage & grandchild, mean/bully characters, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 18k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!! i hope you are all having a very wonderful holidays! so i have decided to post the part 2 of ‘stickwitu’, ask and you shall receive! lolz but i love crazy rich asians so much and i just can’t let go of this kind of crossover (?). i had decided to chop off this one to three parts, with 20k max of word count since i wanna get it all out there. this one is open for taglist as well since there will be a part 3 of this, so just comment if you wanna be tagged hehe. your comments/reblogs are highly appreciated 🥺 hope you’ll enjoy this second part! <3

The early return was unplanned but felt necessary after everything that happened at Araminta’s bachelorette party. The atmosphere among the girls was tense, full of subtle jabs and veiled competition that you and Rachel simply were not in the mood to tolerate any longer.

On the second day, when you got the chance, over breakfast, you leaned over to Rachel and whispered your plan. She hesitated at first, unsure if Araminta would even believe it, but eventually nodded in agreement, trusting you to handle the situation.

You approached Araminta just before the midday activities, adopting a concerned tone as you told her that Rachel was not really feeling well. You explained how she had been feeling faint and a bit queasy since the night before but had been trying to push through. Araminta’s face immediately fell into worry, and she reached out to Rachel, who played her part perfectly, adding a weak smile and saying she just needed rest.

“I’m so sorry,” Rachel murmured, holding Araminta’s hand. “I really wanted to stay, but I think it’s better if I head back to the city.”

Araminta turned to you, her concern for Rachel deepened. “Do you need me to come with you? I don't want you both traveling alone if she’s not well.”

You shook your head, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. “Absolutely not. Minty, this is your bachelorette party, and you shouldn’t leave everyone behind. I’ll take care of everything. We’ll be fine, I promise.”

It took some convincing, but eventually, Araminta relented. She hugged you both tightly, telling Rachel to rest and recover, that she’ll be seeing you both on the wedding day. As you left the island, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt at the lie, but the overwhelming relief of leaving outweighed it.

The flight back to the city was quiet at first, the two of you decompressing from the tension of the past day. Rachel let out a laugh, shaking her head. “I can’t believe we pulled that off. I feel terrible lying to her, though.”

You sighed, leaning back into the plush seat. “I know. But honestly, that crowd was unbearable. You shouldn’t have had to endure that.”

“Thank you for getting me out of there. I owe you one.” Rachel smiled gratefully at you.

Once you landed, the two of you decided to make the most of the unexpected free day. You took her to some of your favorite spots in Singapore, then introduced her to local dishes and hidden gems around the city. From the bustling hawker centers to the serene gardens, you wanted her to see more than just the usual tourist spots.

“You weren’t kidding when you said Singapore is magical,” she said as she admired the view from Marina Bay Sands.

“It’s home,” you replied with a small smile. “And now you’ve seen a little piece of it.”

By the time you dropped her off at the hotel, it was late, the city lights twinkling against the dark sky. As you hugged her goodbye, Rachel whispered, “thanks again for today. I really needed this.”

“You’re very welcome, and hey, if anyone asks, you’re still recovering from that ‘terrible stomach bug.’”

Your family driver was already waiting as you stepped out of the hotel. You gave Rachel one last wave before sliding into the car, sinking into the leather seat as the city blurred past the window. The relief of being home and away from the chaos of the island was evident, and for the first time in days, you felt at ease.

The house was quiet as you stepped inside, but your mind was already racing with the thought of seeing Lando. The faint hum of the air conditioner and the soft creak of the floor beneath your feet were the only sounds accompanying you as you called out his name. No response.

You wandered from room to room, checking the living room, kitchen, even the study, but there was no sign of him. Then, as you approached the sliding glass doors leading to the patio, you saw him sitting there, phone in hand, smiling and laughing as he talked to someone on facetime.

Lando’s gaze shifted towards the door as you slid it open, and his face lit up when he saw you. He motioned for you to come over, his smile growing even more brighter. You made your way to him, the cool evening breeze brushing against your skin.

As you reached him, you wrapped an arm around his neck, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips. His free arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer, and he returned the kiss, deeper and more deliberate. When you pulled away slightly, he looked up at you, his eyes filled with warmth and a hint of surprise.

“You’re back early,” he murmured softly, his thumb grazing your hip.

“I’ll tell you everything later,” you said, glancing toward the phone in his hand. It was that you noticed the familiar face on the screen, Max. “Hi, Max,” you greeted warmly.

“Hey, you,” Max replied with a grin, leaning closer to the camera. “Back already? Thought you were off on some wild bachelorette adventure?”

You laughed softly. “Something like that. I’ll tell you all about it when I see you guys. How have you been? And Pietra? I can’t wait to catch up when we're in the UK for Christmas.”

Max chuckled. “We’re good. Pietra’s already planning the whole holiday—dinner menus, decorations, everything. You’ll have to let her drag you into the chaos.”

Lando shifted slightly, pulling you down onto his lap, his hand resting on your waist as he held his phone with the other. You settled against him, his fingers idly tracing shapes on your side while you continued chatting with Max.

“She doesn’t have to drag me. I’m ready for it,” you replied, smiling. “Tell her to save me a spot in the kitchen, I’m good at taste-testing.”

“I’ll pass that on,” Max and Lando shared a laugh, but then Max’s expression softened. “Honestly though, it’s good seeing you hoth happy. Pietra and I were just talking about how happy you’ve made this muppet. But you know, we were skeptical at first.”

“Oh, I remember,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Something about expecting me to be snobby?”

Max laughed, holding both his hands up in defense. “Hey, it’s not everyday that someone from your background walks into our lives. But you proved us wrong pretty quickly. You’re as down-to-earth as they come, and more importantly, you make little Lando happy. That’s all we care about.”

Your gaze shifted to Lando, whose thumb was tracing idle patterns on your side, a content smile resting on his face. “Well, he makes me happy too,” you said softly.

Max smiled. “Good. That’s all that matters. Anyway, I’ll let you two catch up. Don’t keep him up too late.”

You laughed, nodding. “I’ll make sure he gets some sleep. See you soon, Max.”

“See you soon,” he replied, before ending the call.

As the screen went dark, Lando set his phone down and wrapped both arms around you, holding you close.

“I missed you,” he murmured, voice low and earnest.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, leaning into him, the weight of the past few days melting away in his embrace.

The evening air was cool and crisp as you sat comfortably on Lando’s lap, the soft hum of distant city noise blending with the quiet rustle of leaves. His arm rested securely around your waist while his other hand lazily drummed against the armrest of the chair. He tilted his head slightly to look at you, his expression soft but curious.

“So,” he began, voice low and easy, “why are you back early? I thought you had a few more days of bachelorette shenanigans left.”

You let out a small sigh, glancing at the darkened sky before turning your gaze back to him. “It’s a long story,” you said, trying to suppress the frustration that the memory brought up.

Lando’s brows lifted slightly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “We’ve got plenty of time and I’m not going anywhere,” he teased, tone light as he tightened his arm around you.

You laughed softly before settling deeper into his embrace. “Okay, so Rachel traveled with Minty and the other girls ahead of me to Samsara, right? I had to leave later because of a meeting, so I got there after everyone else.”

Lando nodded, his thumb tracing small circles on your side, silently encouraging you to continue.

“When I arrived at the villa,” you said, voice dropping slightly, “I saw Rachel speed-walking back from the spa. She was just wearing her robe, and she looked…off. Like she was about to cry, so I went to her and asked what happened, but she didn’t answer me right away. She just kept walking, looking like she wanted to disappear.”

His expression shifted to one of concern, his brows furrowing as he listened intently.

“I followed her back to the villa she was staying,” you continued, tone growing more serious. “And that’s when we saw a huge gutted fish on her bed, with pink lipstick scrawled across the glass window that said, catch this, you gold-digging bitch.”

Lando’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, his jaw tensing. “What the hell?” he muttered, his voice edged with disbelief.

“I know,” you said, exhaling sharply at the memory. “I wanted to call security right then and there, but Rachel stopped me—she didn’t want to make a scene. She was so humiliated, Lan. You could see it all over her face.”

He shook his head, voice low. “That’s fucking awful. Who even does something like that?”

“Oh, I know exactly who’s capable of pulling this kind of stunt,” you said scoffing, tone sharp with certainty. “Francesca Shaw. That little bitch.”

“Who’s Francesca Shaw?” Lando asked in curiosity.

You tilted your head, letting out a dry laugh. “She’s Nadine Shaw’s daughter, one of Auntie Eleanor’s closest friends. Francesca used to be an heiress to the Shaw Foods fortune, but her grandfather cut her off completely from the will after waking up from coma. Guess grandpa Shaw didn’t like how little miss two-faced was spending the family money.”

His brows shot up in surprise. “So, she’s broke now?”

“Eh, pretty much,” you said. “And before you ask, yes, she’s also Nicky’s ex. They dated briefly years ago, but it didn’t go anywhere because Nicky didn’t like how her attitude began to change for the worse. Francesca clearly thought she still had shot, but when Rachel came into the picture, that dream was practically over. She’s been a bitter bitch ever since.”

Lando leaned back slightly, grip still firm on your waist. “So, she’s trying to ruin things for them all because of jealousy?”

“Not just jealousy,” you corrected. “Envy. She’s spent her whole life in circles like ours, and now that she’s lost her position, she’s desperate to claw her way back in. She probably sees Rachel as a threat, someone she thinks doesn’t belong.”

He shook his head, clearly frustrated. “That’s pathetic. I can’t believe someone would go that far.”

“I know,” you said softly. “But Rachel didn’t want to make waves, especially not at Minty’s party. It wasn’t the time or place, and honestly, I just wanted to get her out of there. I wasn’t going to let Rachel stay there a second longer, so I told her to act like she was sick, and we left. The toxicity is just too much.”

Lando’s eyes scanned your face, then pressed a soft kiss to your temple, voice filled with reassurance. “You did the right thing. I’m glad that you were there for her.”

You gave him a small smile, “I just couldn’t stand by and let Francesca get to her. Rachel doesn’t deserve any of the shit they’re throwing to her at all.”

“Neither of you do,” Lando said firmly. “But I’m glad you’re back.”

You nodded, feeling the tension in your body ease slightly as you settled back into his embrace, the weight of the day beginning to dissipate.

The next day, you and Lando found yourselves back at your Ah Ma’s estate, where everyone was gathered in the big, spacious dining room that was only reserved for the family. The air was warm with the aroma of fresh dough and seasoned fillings, as half a dozen maids moved seamlessly, rolling small balls of dough into flat circles and forming minced meat into dozens of uniform, expertly shaped balls.

You were seated beside Nick, with Lando on your other side. While this was not Lando’s first time making dumplings, you often found yourself teaching him the technique whenever you were in Monaco. It had become a little tradition between the two of you as well, and you always made sure to leave him with a stack of freshly prepared dumplings to store in his freezer before you fly back to New York.

Lando had a knack for making dumplings by now, though you couldn’t always trust him with all the cooking in general, especially after the time you learned through Max’s stream that he had been running on no sleep for twenty-six hours, eaten out-of-date food, and spent his break before the Las Vegas GP playing call of duty. Dumplings, at least, were something he could handle—trusting not to burn his own kitchen down.

A maid carried a tray of the minced meat balls to the center of the room, where your mother and other family members—Nick, Rachel, Oliver, and your Aunties Alix and Eleanor, were all gathered around a large table. They worked busily, folding dumplings with swift, practiced hands and placing them neatly into stacked bamboo steamers.

This was a cherished family tradition, and your Aunties led the effort with the ease of many years of experience, their hands moving expertly while they kept up a lively flow of conversation. The hum of chatter filled the dining room, blending perfectly with the rhythmic movements of the dumpling-making process.

Your Auntie Eleanor carefully inspected the tray of folded dumplings and gave a satisfactory nod of approval, her sharp eye ensuring every piece was up to standard. Meanwhile, your mother glanced at the dozen trays already filled, her expression betraying a mix of alarm and disbelief.

“This is all too much,” your Auntie Alix remarked, shaking her head as she folded another dumpling with her precise fingers. “We’re only hosting a rehearsal dinner, not feeding an entire army.”

Your Auntie Eleanor countered almost immediately, her tone firm yet practical. “It is better that it’s too much than too little. Imagine people saying we’re stingy, that’s much worse.”

On the other side of the table, Nick was patiently teaching Rachel how to fold her first dumpling. He held the thin dumpling dough in his hand, placed a small ball of minced meat in the center, and carefully folded the edges, sealing it closed with practiced ease.

“It’s like tucking in a baby,” Nick explained, glancing at Rachel with a smile.

Rachel’s face lit up at the analogy. “That’s so cute,” she said, then added with mock horror, “and then you eat the baby.”

Her comment sent everyone into fits of laughter. Then Oliver, always quick to join in on the fun, leaned forward and added his own take on how to fold a dumpling.

“Grand Auntie Mabel taught me that folding dumplings is like getting botox,” he said, picking up dumpling dough. “The filling is the botox, and the wrapper is the face. You pinch it here and here, and voilà! You now have a flawless face.”

The whole table erupted with laughter again, and Rachel, shaking her head at the humor, asked, “did you all learn how to make dumplings when you were kids?”

You turned to her and nodded, folding another dumpling as you replied, “we didn’t exactly have a choice, it was mandatory.”

Then your mother chimed in from across the table, her voice carrying a mix of pride and amusement. “We taught all of you so that you’ll all understand the blood, sweat, and tears it took to raise and feed you monkeys.” she said, folding her dumpling expertly and placing it on the tray.

Your Auntie Alix nodded in agreement with your mother. “Not like the ang-mohs, microwaving everything for their children. No wonder, when their parents grow old, they send them to the old folks’ home.”

Lando turned to you, asking silently that only the two of you could hear, “babe, what’s ang-mohs?”

“Oh, it’s a colloquial expression used to refer to Caucasians or Westerners.” you replied as Lando nodded.

“Exactly. That’s what Ah Ma always says, if we don’t pass down traditions like this, they slowly disappear.” your Auntie Eleanor chimed in, tone firm.

You snickered, rolling your eyes playfully as you murmured loud enough with the intent for everyone to hear, “well, God forbid that we lose the ancient Chinese tradition of guilting your children.”

“Honestly, learning how to make these dumplings is totally worth it. I remember back when I was little, Mom used to wait for me after school with a basket of fresh dumplings.” Nick added, voice softened at the memory, and your Auntie Eleanor smiled, corners of her mouth tugging upward in quiet nostalgia.

“幸運嘅男孩!” (lucky boy!) your Auntie Alix said.

You turned to your mother and teased, “how come I never got after-school dumplings?”

Before your mother could muster out a reply, Oliver had beat her to it, smirking as he quipped, “well, probably because Auntie Elizabeth was busy having an after-school microdermabrasion.”

Your mother gasped, mock-scolding him in rapid Cantonese. “你真系个叻嘅屁股！ 如果你嘅祖父仲在生，佢會直接將你踢到下周.” (you’re such a smart-ass! if your grandfather were still alive, he’d kick you straight into next week) with a quick flick of her wrist, your mother threw a piece of dumpling dough at Oliver, which hit his shirt with a soft plop.

“Auntie!” Oliver looked down at the dough stuck to his chest, brushing it off with an exaggerated pout. “This is Dolce, you know.”

Laugher rippled through the room again, the air filled with warmth, teasing, and the familiar comfort of family banter.

Your Auntie Alix turned to Rachel, her expression curious yet kind. “Rachel, do you speak Cantonese?”

Rachel shook her head, smiling politely. “No, I don’t,” she admitted, then quickly added, “but it’s so great seeing your family bond like this.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Oliver, all of you caught slightly off guard by her statement, except Nick. It was not something you really thought about, it was just how things were.

Rachel seemed to sense everyone’s confusion and explained further, “growing up, it was just me and my Mom. We didn’t have a big family like yours, this is really special.”

“We’re glad that you appreciate it,” Oliver said softly. “You’re right, we’re lucky to have this.”

Your mother and Auntie Alix both smiled, their postures relaxing just a little. Your Auntie Alix even murmured, “it’s nice to hear someone appreciate it.”

Rachel, emboldened by the shift in mood, turned her attention to your Auntie Eleanor, who had been largely quiet, methodically folding dumplings with precision. Her gaze fell on the large emerald ring your Auntie Eleanor was wearing, glinting under the soft light as she carefully placed a dumpling into a bamboo steamer.

“That ring is very stunning, Auntie Eleanor,” Rachel said, voice genuinely admiring. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

You paused mid-fold, glancing at Lando, who was already looking at you, his eyes widening slightly. The conversation from the other night before leaving for Samsara immediately surfaced in your mind.

Your mother and Auntie Alix both turned to look at your Auntie Eleanor, their expressions carefully neutral as they waited to see how she would respond. Your Auntie Eleanor looked genuinely surprised, her delicate hands momentarily pausing their rhythmic folding of dumplings.

“This ring,” she began, glancing at the emerald on her finger, “was made by my husband, Nick’s father, when he proposed to me.”

Rachel’s eyes lit up with interest. “That’s really amazing. Did he design it himself?”

She gave a small node, movements deliberate as she reshmed folding another dumpling. “He did. He wanted it to be one of a kind.”

“That’s incredible! Where did you two meet?” Rachel's eyes lit up with curiosity, leaning slightly forward.

Nick jumped in, tone light and proud. “They met at Cambridge, both are studying law.”

Rachel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I didn't know you were a lawyer.” she said, admiration apparent.

Your Auntie Eleanor resumed folding, her expression calm but firm. “I didn’t finish,” she clarified. “When we got married, I chose to withdraw from university.”

Rachel blinked, clearly taken aback. “Oh,” she said softly. “I didn’t know, I’m sorry…”

Noticing the slight tension that was slowly forming, your Auntie Eleanor elaborated, voice steady as she carefully sealed another dumpling.

“I made that decision to help my husband run his business and to raise a family. To me, that was a privilege,” she glanced at Rachel, her gaze sharp yet polite. “But to some others, it might seem old-fashioned.”

Rachel hesitated, not really sure of how to respond, but before she could say anything, your Auntie Eleanor continued.

“It’s nice of you that you appreciate this,” she said, gesturing to the room that was filled with chattering and dumpling-making. “Everyone together, contributing, creating something. But I want you to fully understand that all of this doesn’t happen by accident or with the snap of a finger. It’s because we’ve always prioritized family above all else.”

Her voice took on a slightly sharper edge, though still calm. “Sometimes, that means letting go of personal ambitions for the greater good. It’s a lesson I learned early on and one I hope will never be forgotten.”

A very heavy awkward silence settled over the table. You felt Lando’s hand subtly intertwining your fingers under the table, as you glanced at Rachel. Her smile faltered slightly, and her posture stiffened as though she was not entirely sure how to respond.

Your mother and Auntie Alix remained silent, both just looking at their dumplings, minding their own business, their expressions natural but tense. You knew they were traditional in their own ways, yet far more accepting than your Auntie Eleanor. They were not going to intervene, but their discomfort was apparent.

Rachel finally nodded, voice quiet but steady. “I see. Thank you for sharing that, Auntie Eleanor,” she said, offering a faint smile that did not quite reach her eyes.

Then, the dining room doors opened with a soft creak, and your Ah Ma entered with her Thai maids following closely behind, their presence as graceful and composed as always. She was wearing a beautiful silk blouse in shades of soft jade, with her posture upright and regal despite her old age. Your Ah Ma’s presence immediately shifted the atmosphere in the room, dissolving the lingering tension.

Everyone rose to their feet, a chorus of respectful greetings filling the space. You and Lando followed closely behind Nick and Rachel as you walked toward her, hand firmly clasping Lando’s.

Your Ah Ma’s face lit up when her gaze fell on Lando. “Ah, Lan Lan!” she exclaimed, voice warm and filled with genuine affection. “I’m happy to see you again. Tell me, has your dumpling folding improved since the last time?”

Lando smiled, bowing his head slightly in respect. “I think so, Ah Ma,” he replied, voice steady but tinged with amusement. “But you’ll have to judge for yourself.”

Nick stepped forward, taking your Ah Ma’s arm gently, and you mirrored his action on her other side. Her smile widened as she turned to Nick, patting his hand affectionately. “我很高興你帶瑞秋來了.” (i’m so glad you brought rachel) she said, voice kind but observant.

Your Ah Ma’s sharp eyes landed on Rachel, who stood politely beside Nick. She scrutinized her face for a moment, her expression contemplative before breaking into a small smile. “在白天，我可以清楚地看到她。 非常漂亮的臉蛋.” (ah, in the daylight, i can see her clearly. very nice-looking face)

Rachel’s lips parted slightly, unsure how to react, but she eventually nodded and smiled, choosing to take it as a compliment. “謝謝阿媽.” (thank you, ah ma) she said, in a respectful tone.

With Nick and you guiding her, your Ah Ma walked toward her seat at the head of the table. When you reached the chair, Lando quickly stepped forward, pulling it out for her with fluid motion. Your Ah Ma gave Lando an approving nod before settling into the seat, her movements deliberate but elegant.

Once your Ah Ma was seated, she gestured with a delicate wave of her hand. “坐下，你們所有人.” (sit down, all of you) she instructed, tone commanding but not harsh.

Oliver leaned back slightly and chimed in, tone light and teasing. “We’re almost finished, Ah Ma. Just a few more baskets left.”

“Good, good,” she said, a trace of satisfaction in her voice.

While your Ah Ma was observing everyone, her gaze swept over the trays of folded dumplings, her discerning eyes pausing on a particular set of dumplings that stood out. Without any hesitation, she gestured toward the batch and turned to your Auntie Eleanor.

“埃莉諾，你做了這個批次嗎?” (eleanor, did you make this batch?) her tone was sharp, but not unkind.

You Auntie Eleanor straightened slightly, nodding with a subtle air of pride. “是的，阿媽,” (yes, ah ma) she replied, voice composed but tinged with a hint of accomplishment.

Your Ah Ma’s eyes narrowed slightly as she leaned in for a closer look, inspecting the dumplings with the same scrutiny she might give to a priceless piece of jade. Her expression shifted almost imperceptibly, and she tilted her head, her words carrying a weight of blunt honesty.

”他們看起來不太好,” (they don’t look very good) she remarked, tone in a matter-of-fact but leaving little room for dispute. “你失去了你的觸摸,埃莉諾.” (you’ve lost your touch, eleanor)

The room seemed to pause momentarily, the faintest ripple of tension spreading across the table. You glanced at Rachel, who sat stiffly, her expression carefully neutral, clearly unsure how to react to the sudden critique.

You turned to Lando, who had been watching the exchange with curiosity, leaning slightly toward you as he whispered, “what did Ah Ma say?”

Lowering your voice, you translated quickly but gently, “Ah Ma said the dumplings don’t look good, and that Auntie Eleanor has lost her touch.”

Lando made a face, and though he made no comment, the slight twitch of his lips suggested he was trying not to laugh. You gave him a soft nudge under the table, silently reminding him to keep a straight face.

Even with your Ah Ma’s comment, your Auntie Eleanor maintained her composure, her lips tightening as she focused on folding another dumpling, pretending as though the comment did not bother her at all. But still, you knew that everyone at the table heard everything, and no one was really surprised by your Ah Ma’s brutal honesty.

As the final dumplings were folded and placed neatly into the bamboo steamers, Rachel excused herself, standing from her seat with a polite smile. “I’m just going to the restroom,” she said softly, tone light.

Nick immediately offered, “I'll come with you.”

Rachel just shook her head gently, declining with a reassuring smile. “It’s fine, I can find my way.”

With that, she turned and walked off, navigating through the hallways of the estate, leaving the rest of you to finish arranging the trays.

Meanwhile, your Ah Ma’s sharp eyes scanned the remaining dumplings, her attention landing on the ones Lando had folded. Despite her age, her vision remained sharp as ever, and she leaned forward slightly, inspecting his work. A small but genuine smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

“這些很漂亮,” (these are beautiful) she said, nodding approvingly.

Lando lit up at the compliment—well, he didn’t really understand what your Ah Ma had said, but based on her reaction, it’s a positive one. His cheeks colored faintly as he looked at you for a moment, seeking your silent confirmation that he had done well.

Your Ah Ma then turned to you, tone warm but firm as she continued, “你教他很好,我的孫女。 我可以看到他爲此付出的努力。 你跟他幹得真不錯.” (you’ve taught him well, my granddaughter. I can see the effort he’s put into these. you really did a good job with him)

You smiled, bowing your head slightly in acknowledgment of her praise, but before you could respond, her attention shifted back to Lando. Your Ah Ma’s expression softened, yet her words carried a note of earnestness.

“Lan Lan,” she began, “好好照顧自己，好好吃飯,” (take care of yourself, eat properly) she spoke slowly enough that he could understand the weight of her words even if he did not catch every meaning of it.

Your Ah Ma paused, gaze flicking back to you for a moment, before continuing. “I remember when my granddaughter came back here to Singapore after being in Monaco. She was so worried about you.”

Then she turned again to Lando, tone shifting slightly to a mock-scolding one, though her affection for him was evident. “She told me how you hadn’t slept for twenty-six hours and were eating expired food. How can you not take care of yourself?”

Lando ducked his head slightly, his smile sheepish as he scratched the back of his neck, a faint flush creeping into his cheeks.

Switching to Mandarin, she fired rapidly at Lando, though there was no malice in her tone. “你認爲僅僅因爲你年輕，你的身體會原諒一切嗎？ 不會的 你很幸運，我的孫女飛到摩納哥爲你做飯.” (you think just because you’re young, your body will forgive everything? it won’t. you’re lucky my granddaughter flew to to monaco to cook for you)

You were trying not to laugh as you translated everything your Ah Ma said to him, and Lando nodded earnestly, voice quiet but sincere. “I know, Ah Ma. I’ve learned my lesson.”

Your Ah Ma turned to you with a knowing smile. “我什麼時候能指望你結婚?” (when can i expect you to get married?)

You froze on your seat, eyes widening in disbelief as he words hung in the air. You felt Lando’s hand tense slightly in yours under the table, though you were sure he hadn’t understood any of it.

“我想在我死之前見到我的曾孫們。 我已經沒有多少年時間了.” (i want to see my great-grandchildren before i die. i don’t have that many years left) your Ah Ma continued.

The room erupted into laughter at your Ah Ma’s bluntness, a mix of amused chuckles and good-natured teasing. Even your mother, who rarely join on such jokes, could not help but wink at you across the table.

“Ah Ma,” you began, swallowing hard, trying to find the right words to appease her. “蘭多和我還年輕。 他有一個非常忙碌的職業生涯，我們現在都專注於我們的目標.” (lando and i are still young. he has a very busy career, and we’re both focused on our goals right now)

“太年輕了？ 胡說八道！ 你們兩個都老了，有什麼目標？ 家庭是人生最重要的目標,” (too young? nonsense! you’re both old enough, and what goals? a family is the most important goal in life) she retorted, waving her hand in the air as if brushing aside your excuses.

She leaned slightly forward, her gaze fixed on Lando now, as if silently willing him to understand what she was saying. “我走之前要抱着我的曾孫,” (i need to hold my great-grandchild before i go) she reiterated, as though her insistence alone could make it happen.

Lando, who had been smiling politely, began to glance around the table, sensing that the laughter was at his expense but unable to piece together what was being said.

“What’s going on? What did Ah Ma say?” he said, leaning towards you.

Before you could think of a way to downplay it, Nick—ever the troublemaker, grinned wickedly and leaned over. “Oh, I’ll tell you,” he said, just loud enough for the whole table to hear. “Ah Ma’s asking when you’re getting married. She wants great-grandchildren before she dies.”

His jaw dropped slightly at what Nick said, cheeks already tinged pink. “What?” Lando stammered, glancing at you for confrontation.

The laughter just grew louder as Nick continued, “she’s serious too. She’s already planning your family timeline.”

You groaned inwardly, shooting Nick a sharp look that only made him smirk wider. Meanwhile, Lando’s blush deepend, spreading across his ear and down to his neck. Rubbing the back of his neck nervously, and lips twitching into an embarrassed smile.

“I…uh…” he stuttered, clearly flustered, and you couldn’t help but smile despite the situation.

You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze under the table, leaning closer to whisper, “don’t worry, she just likes to tease. You’re doing great.”

Your Ah Ma smiled warmly at Lando, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes deepening with the kind of affection reserved for those who had truly earned it. She placed her hands gently on the edge of the table, her gaze shifting between you and him as she began to speak again in Mandarin.

“我愛你這個年輕人,” (i love this young man for you) she said, tone resolute yet tender. “我等不及你們倆結婚的那一天了。 當然，這必須在我死之前發生，但沒有壓力.” (i cannot wait for the day you both get married. of course, this must happen before i die, but no pressure)

The table chuckled softly at her words, though you could feel the weight of her underlying sincerity.

“我希望你們的關係最終會導致婚姻。 它必須，我很高興是他。 我認識你以前約會過的所有男孩，但沒有你介紹他們給我,” (i expect your relationship will lead to marriage in the end. it must, and I’m glad it’s him. i knew all the boys you dated before without you introducing them to me) she continued, tone sharpening lightly as she referred to your past. “他們都不值得。 蘭多是。 他是個好人，是個紳士。 我看得出他讓你多麼高興.” (none of them were worthy. but lando is. he is a good man and a gentleman. i can see how happy he makes you)

Her gaze lingered on Lando, eyes bright with approval. “你選的不錯,” (you chose well) she said firmly, her words almost carrying the weight of a blessing.

You glanced at your mother, who was watching the exchange quietly with a soft smile. When your eyes met, she gave you a small nod, as if to echo your Ah Ma’s sentiments. Your heart swelled, knowing that this was not just about Lando being accepted by your family, it was about him being fully embraced in a way that rarely happened in a family as traditional as yours.

“我們的家庭一���重視傳統的重要性，在我們自己的背景，我們自己的文化中結婚。 這就是讓我們堅強的原因。 但有時，當心髒看到什麼是正確的時，必須做出例外.” (our family has always valued the importance of tradition, of marrying within our own background, our own culture. it is what keeps us strong. but sometimes, exceptions must be made when the heart sees what is right) your Ah Ma’s eyes softened further as she looked at you. “你已經看到了什麼是正確的。 我相信你的選擇。 他會給你帶來快樂，你也會給他帶來同樣的快樂.” (and you have seen what’s right. i trust your choice. he will bring you happiness, and you will bring him the same)

Lando, though unable to follow the Mandarin, seemed to understand the atmosphere and the sentiment. He offered a polite smile, his hand tightening slightly around yours under the table.

“你知道，你是第一個正式向我介紹這樣一個人的人。 這不是一件小事。 它表明了對我們家庭的尊重，它表明你是認真的.” (you know, you are the first to formally introduce someone to me like this. it is no small thing. it shows respect for our family, and it shows me that you are serious) she paused, tilting her head thoughtfully. “這就是爲什麼我相信這將工作。 你有我的祝福.” (that is why I trust this will work. you have my blessing)

You felt a lump in your throat as you glanced again at your mother, who was still smiling softly. There was no need for words, her expression said it all. The weight of family approval—especially your Ah Ma’s, was very significant. It was not just about you and Lando anymore, it was about the life you were building together, one that your family wholeheartedly supported.

You turned to Lando and gave him a small smile, and squeezed his hand, a private gesture of reassurance for him. Though he could not understand the exact words, you knew he felt the love and acceptance in the room, just as deeply as you did.

While everyone was now immersed in a new topic of conversation, you can’t help but notice that Rachel was taking longer than usual. Rachel hasn’t gone back yet, the same as your Auntie Eleanor. Just before your Ah Ma would say his monologue about family tradition, your Auntie Eleanor had excused herself.

You glanced at the door Rachel and your Auntie Eleanor had exited through earlier, your eyes narrowed slightly in concern. This was a sprawling estate, one where getting turned around was almost inevitable for someone unfamiliar with its labyrinth of hallways and grand rooms. You couldn’t shake the sense that something was amiss.

Minutes passed. Neither Rachel nor your Auntie Eleanor had returned. Your unease deepened. So you leaned slightly toward Lando, your voice low enough not to disrupt the ongoing chatter around the table.

“I think I’ll go check on Rachel,” you murmured. “She’s taking a little too long, and Auntie Eleanor too.”

Lando nodded, his eyes flickering with slight concern. “You think everything’s okay?”

“Well, I’m not sure,” you replied. “But I’ll find out.”

You leaned in, pressing a light kiss to his cheek, the faintest smile touching your lips despite the worry now bubbling beneath the surface. Straightening up, you excused yourself from the table, smoothing down your dress with a quick, practiced motion.

As you step away, the chatter behind you fades, replaced by the muted hum of distant sounds in the house, the faint clatter of dishes being cleared in the kitchen, soft shuffle of footsteps from maids moving about their duties.

You moved quietly, your steps deliberate as you followed the path Rachel had taken earlier. You knew this house like the back of your hand, each twist and turn etched into your memory, but even for you, it was easy to imagine how someone so unfamiliar might lose their way.

Your eyes scanned the hallways as you moved, the ornate decorations and rich furnishings familiar yet suddenly feeling imposing in the quiet. You still could not shake the thought that perhaps your Auntie Eleanor had cornered Rachel somewhere in the house, and the idea made your pace quicken.

The moment you approached the grand staircase, you approached quietly, you heard voices and stopped just short of the landing, hiding yourself out of sight behind the very heavy drapery of a nearby window. You knew it was wrong to eavesdrop on other people, but your concern for Rachel overpowered the voice of reason.

Peeking through the fabric, you saw them. Your Auntie Eleanor stood on the top step of the staircase, her posture sharp and commanding, while Rachel stood two steps below her, visibly uneasy. The height difference only seemed to amplify the imbalance in their dynamic—your Auntie Eleanor looking every bit like a hawk, and Rachel was the unwitting prey.

“I’m glad I found you,” your Auntie Eleanor began, voice low and calm, but laced with a kind of weight that felt impossible to ignore. “I felt…perhaps I was unfair to you earlier.”

Rachel immediately shook her head, her voice soft but apologetic. “No, no, it’s alright. I didn’t mean to offend you, and I’m really sorry if I did.”

“You didn’t offend me, Rachel,” she said quietly, almost too quietly, as though she were weighing each word before releasing it. “But since we’re already here, I feel it’s only fair to share something with you. Something that I don’t often talk about.”

“Alright,” Rachel said, voice barely above whisper.

“The emerald ring,” she began, lifting her hand slightly to glance at the emerald on her finger, “had been customized by my husband, Philip, because Ah Ma didn’t want to give him the family ring.”

“She…refused?” Rachel was clearly surprised.

Your Auntie Eleanor gave a small, humorless smile, the corner of her lips barely turning upward. “She didn’t think I was worthy of it. Didn’t think I was worthy of Philip.”

At that, you felt your breath catch. This was new information, something you had never heard before. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the two of them, even as guilt tugged at you for listening in.

“Why would she think that?” Rachel’s voice was cautious, tentative.

Your Auntie Eleanor’s expression hardened, though her voice remained calm. “Because I didn’t come from the right family. I didn’t have the proper connections, and I was not what Ah Ma envisioned for his eldest son. To her, I was inadequate. Not a suitable wife for the future head of the family.”

Rachel looked stunned, her hands fidgeting slightly at her sides. “I…I didn’t know.”

“No, of course, you wouldn’t,” she said softly. “It’s not the kind of thing people would discuss so openly, and why would they? It’s already humiliating to admit that you weren’t the first choice.”

Rachel’s lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out of her mouth.

“I wasn’t even the second choice. You’re Ah Ma wanted someone else entirely, someone from a family with status and wealth that matched ours. But Philip, he chose me.”

From your hiding spot, you could see the faint sheer in your Auntie Eleanor’s eyes, though her expression remained resolute. You felt your stomach tighten. This was far more personal than the surface-level gossip you and your mother often indulge in about your Auntie Eleanor.

Rachel seemed to struggle to find the right response. “I think that’s very brave of you, to have gone through that.”

“Brave?” she echoed, almost as though testing the word on her tongue. “Perhaps, or perhaps I simply had no choice but to endure it. That’s what women like me are expected to do. Endure. Sometimes, there were days when I wondered if I would ever measure up.”

Another pause filled the air, heavy and suffocating. You glanced back toward the hallway that leads to the dining room, where laughter and conversation continued, oblivious to the tension unfolding right outside.

Your Auntie Eleanor looked down at Rachel, her tone softening just slightly. “I don’t say this to make you uncomfortable, Rachel. I say it because you remind me of someone I once was, a young woman trying to find her place in a family with traditions that can feel suffocating at times. But here’s the thing.”

“To belong here,” your Auntie Eleanor said quietly, “you must learn when to bend and when to stand firm, and above all, you must understand that family will always come first before passion, before dreams. It’s not easy, but it’s the way it is.”

Her words lingered in the air, cutting deeper than anything you had expected. You tightened your grip on the drapery, heart thudding in your chest.

“But Rachel,” she said softly, almost gently, as she took a slow step closer to her. “Having been through it all myself, I can tell you this much…you will never be enough.”

The words hung in the air, deceptively gently, yet sharp enough to pierce. Rachel was eviscerated, as your Auntie Eleanor draws back, placid and calm, as if they were talking about the weather. Her hand lightly touched Rachel’s arm, almost a contradictory gesture to the blow she had just delivered.

“We should head back, I wouldn’t want Nick to worry.” your Auntie Eleanor’s tone did not falter, nor did her gaze waver. She slowly began descending the stairs.

You’re still hidden—more like frozen in place. You watched as Rachel’s expression crumbled ever so slightly, her face a mixture of hurt and confusion, though she tried valiantly to hold her composure. You felt a pang in your chest for her, but before you could decide whether to step out, you felt a presence approaching from behind.

You turned your head quickly, startled to see Lando walking towards you. His lips were already parting, likely to ask what you were doing or what was taking you so long, but you reacted instinctively. You brought a finger to your lips in a sharp shushing motion, then darted towards him as quietly as possible, pressing a hand gently over his mouth before he could make a sound.

Lando’s brows furrowed in confusion, but he obeyed your silent command, his wide eyes flickering between you and the staircase. You both froze as the unmistakable sound of your Auntie Eleanor’s heels began clicking rhythmically against the marble floor, growing louder with each step.

Peeking back around the corner just enough, your Auntie Eleanor was already headed your way, her expression calm and composed, never even looking back at Rachel, who remained standing frozen in place.

Without any second thought, you grabbed Lando’s hand firmly and began pulling him back down the hall, away from the grand staircase. His confusion deepened, but he did not resist, allowing you to guide him. You stopped just short of the door, turning to face him, you placed a hand on his chest and pressed a little to keep him from moving any further. Lando tilted his head slightly, silently asking for an explanation, but you shook your head.

“I’ll tell you everything later,” you whispered firmly, voice barely audible. “When we’re home.”

Lando frowned slightly but nodded in understanding, his gaze softening as he squeezed your hand gently. You exhaled, releasing the tension in your shoulders, and took a moment to steady yourself. Lacing your fingers together, you took one more deep breath, and walked back into the dining room with Lando by your side.

You plastered on a casual smile, even as your thoughts raced, determined to keep up the act for now.

Later that evening, you were now back to the safety and comfort of your home. You and Lando were now settled into the bed, the room quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioning. Lando was lying on his back, one arm tucked under his head, while his other arm rested lightly on your arm. The dim glow from the bedside lamp cast gentle shadows across his face as you propped yourself up on your elbow, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“Okay, here’s the tea,” you began softly, keeping your voice low in the stillness of the room.

Lando turned his head to look at you, his brows knitting slightly. “What’s the tea?”

You hesitated for a moment, gathering your thoughts, before recounting everything you had overheard between Rachel and your Auntie Eleanor by the grand staircase. You spoke carefully, detailing the conversation, voice growing more serious as you described your Auntie Eleanor’s sharp words, her admission about the family ring, and the way she had undermined Rachel. Lando listened intently, his gaze never leaving yours, expression shifting from concern to quiet disbelief as you continued.

“And then,” you said, voice dropping even lower, “she told Rachel she would never be enough. I just couldn’t believe it, honestly. It was so cruel.”

“That’s awful,” he said firmly. “I can’t imagine how Rachel must’ve felt when she heard that. She must’ve been gutted—no pun intended.”

You chuckled, then suddenly feeling the weight of the moment settle between you. “I wanted to step in, but I didn’t know how without actually making it worse. Then I saw you coming,” you paused, sighing. “I just don’t know how to fix it.”

Lando reached out, taking your hands in his, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “It’s not your fault,” he said reassuringly. “Your Auntie Eleanor has her own set of issues. But Rachel seems strong, I’m sure she’ll handle it.”

You nodded, though the worry lingered in your chest. “I just hope my whole family can be as welcoming to Rachel as they’ve been to you. She deserves that. Nick deserves that.”

“Your family has been incredible to me,” he said. “Your Ah Ma, your Mom, even your Auntie Alix, they’ve all made me feel like I belong, even though I’m not from the same background—traditionally, as you. That means everything to me. It’s rare to find that kind of acceptance.”

You felt your chest warm at his words. “I’m so happy they’ve accepted you,” you murmured. “It makes me love them even more, knowing they see how amazing you are.”

He chuckled lightly, ears turning red at your compliment. “Well,” Lando said, tone turning playful, “Ah Ma did say she expects a grandchild, so I guess I’m officially part of the family now.”

You laughed softly, then tension from the earlier conversation easing slightly. But as you rested your head against his chest, you whispered, “I just hope Rachel gets that chance too. To feel what we have with my family.”

Lando pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his voice gentle as he said, “she will, it might take time, but your family loves deeply. They’ll come around, and if not, well, Nick and Rachel would always have us. That’s a pretty good start, don’t you think?”

You nodded. “But hey,”

“Hmm?” he hummed, looking at the ceiling aimlessly.

“I was thinking,” you started, “tomorrow’s our last free day before Colin and Araminta’s wedding. I was wondering if it’s okay with you if I spend it with Rachel. I feel like she could use some company, and I’d love to catch up with her one-on-one.”

Lando’s lips curved into a small smile as he nodded. “Of course, love. You don’t need to ask, and I think that’s a great idea.”

“Are you sure?” you pressed. “I don’t want to leave you feeling bored or anything.”

He shook his head. “Yeah, take your time. I can keep myself busy.”

At that, you looked at him with curiosity. “Oh? What’s your plan for the day?”

Lando grinned, “actually, I was thinking of hitting up your Dad for a few rounds of golf. He told me during Ah Ma’s dinner party to let him know anytime I wanted to play, so I figured I’d take him up on that offer.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the thought of Lando and your father on the golf course together. “That sounds perfect. I think he’d love that.”

“It’ll be nice to spend some time with him, and,” he added with a playful grin, “it’ll give me a chance to show him I’ve been practicing my swing.”

You chuckled, “well, don’t let him win too easily, or else he’ll never let you live it down.”

Lando laughed along with you, then leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Go spend the day with Rachel,” he said warmly. “I’ll be fine, and later, you can tell me all about it over dinner.”

“Deal,” you said with a grin.

The warm scent of roasted coffee filled the air as you and Rachel sat across from each other at the small patio table. The sunlight filtered gently through the canopy above, casting dappled shadows on the table between your cups of coffee. Rachel stirred her latte absentmindedly, her eyes occasionally drifting to the street beyond before meeting yours.

“I’m really glad you agreed to meet with me,” you began, voice steady but soft.

Rachel offered a small smile, though it did not quite reach her eyes. “Of course. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to talk after everything.”

You took a deep breath, setting your coffee cup down carefully. “I wanted to talk because I owe you an apology. For everything.”

She tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowing. But she let you continue speaking.

“I’m sorry for how you were treated at the dinner party by my family,” you continued, gazing at her earnestly. “Especially by my Auntie Eleanor. I know she was cruel, and I won’t make any excuses for her just because she’s family. You didn’t deserve that.”

Rachel let out a shaky breath, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she leaned back in her chair. “Thank you for saying that, it truly means a lot.”

There was a brief pause before you added, “and I need to come clean about something.”

“I overheard everything Auntie Eleanor said to you by the staircase,” you admitted, glancing down at your hands for a moment before looking back at her. “It wasn’t my intention to eavesdrop, I swear. I was going to get something from the car, and I happened to pass by.”

She studied you for a moment, then let out a soft sigh. “Honestly, I’m not even surprised you overheard. She wasn’t exactly trying to whisper.”

You gave a small, rueful smile. “Still, I should have stepped in sooner. I hate that she made you feel the way you did.”

Rachel’s grip on her coffee cup tightened briefly before she let out a small, humorless laugh. “It was pretty intense, I’ve got to say,” she admitted. “I mean, I felt like I was going to cry and puke all at once.”

The two of you exchange a glance before breaking into laughter. The sound was a relief, breaking the lingering tension like the first warm breeze after a storm.

“Well,” you said. “I bet if you tell her that you’d leave Nick for a million of dollars, she’d write that check on the spot.”

Her eyes widened for a moment before she burst into laughter again, this time louder and freer. “You think so?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you replied, grinning. “It’s a pretty normal thing to do here. A million-dollar breakup is just another Tuesday.”

Rachel shook her head, still laughing, and took a sip of her latte. “That’s terrible.”

“Maybe it is,” you smiled and shrugged. “But I know my Auntie Eleanor.”

She then set her coffee cup down, fingers fiddling with the edge of her napkin as her expression shifted something akin to serious.

“You know, I just…I don’t even know what to do anymore. Whether I will tell Nick everything or not,” she admitted, voice quieter now. “I can see how much Nick practically worships his Mom. I mean, it’s like she can do no wrong in his eyes.”

You nodded slowly, absorbing her words. “I fully understand that,” you said carefully, tone gently. “It’s common, especially with Chinese sons. They hold their mothers on a very high pedestal, and it’s not just cultural, it’s ingrained, passed down through generations. Mothers are revered, respected almost to a fault.”

Rachel let out a small, defeated sigh, leaning back in her chair. “So what am I supposed to do? Compete with that?”

You shook your head, giving her a smile. “No, you don’t need to compete with anyone. Look, on the bright side of all things, Ah Ma loves you. Did you notice how she complimented you yesterday? That’s pretty big.”

Her brow furrowed slightly as she thought back, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “She did, didn’t she? I was not really sure what to make of it at first, but I guess that was her way of showing approval.”

“Exactly,” you said. “Let Auntie Eleanor stew in her own bitterness if she wants to. She can hate you all day long or even her whole life if that’s what she’s determined to do.”

“That’s…comforting?” she raised an eyebrow, her smile wavering.

“Just let Auntie Eleanor be, she has nothing against two thousand years of Chinese filial piety.” you chuckled.

“What do you mean?” Rachel asked, intrigued but unsure.

You gestured gently with your hand, voice steady but light. “At the end of the day, it’s not really about Auntie Eleanor. It’s about what Ah Ma thinks, and in this family, her opinion carries the most weight, and she’s already decided that she likes you. Auntie Eleanor might throw tantrums and make her snide comments, but she can’t overturn the foundation of how this family works. What Ah Ma says, goes.”

Rachel sat back, her lips curving into a small, thoughtful smile. “So, you’re saying that I don’t need to fight back? Just let her do her thing?”

You nodded. “Exactly. She’s not the one you’re trying to win over, and frankly, she doesn’t hold the power she thinks she does. As long as Ah Ma’s around and on your side, you’re practically untouchable.”

“You make it sound so simple.” she let out a soft laugh, her tension finally easing.

“It’s not simple,” you admitted with a small shrug, “but it’s the truth. You’re a part of this family now, Rachel—whether they like it or not, and you’ve already got the most important ally you could ask for.”

Rachel’s smile grew warmer, and for the first time, she looked truly at ease. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I needed to hear that.”

The midday sun cast long shadows over the manicured fairways of Sentosa Golf Club. Lando steadied his swing, aiming for the flag ahead. Your father stood a few paces behind, watching his stance with an appraising eye. The gentle rustling of the trees and occasional chirping of birds provided the only background noise. Lando took the shot—clean, low drive that rolled smoothly onto the green.

“Good shot,” your father remarked, nodding in approval as they walked toward the cart together.

“Thank you,” Lando replied, brushing his hands against his shorts.

As they drove to the next hole, your father leaned back slightly, gaze fixed ahead. “So, Lando,” your father began, his tone casual. “What are your plans?”

Lando glanced at him, slightly startled by the abruptness of the question. “Plans, sir? You mean with golf? Or…generally?”

Your father chuckled softly, shaking his head. “No, no. Not with golf, I meant your plans for the future. It’s a broad question, I know, but I’m curious.”

He straightened. “Oh, well…I’m focused on my career right now, of course. Racing tends to keep me pretty busy, but I try to balance things as best as I can.”

Your father nodded as they both stepped out of the cart. He let a few moments pass before continuing, voice taking on a more serious tone. “When my wife came back from her mother’s estate last night, she mentioned something to me over dinner.”

Lando tilted his head, curious. “What is it?”

“She said that Ah Ma gave you and my daughter her approval,” your father said, eyes steady on Lando. “Ah Ma hopes your relationship will end in marriage someday.”

Lando blinked, caught off guard by the directness of the statement, or just how straightforward your father is. He shifted his weight slightly, unsure of how to respond to your father.

Your father, noticing his hesitation, offered a small smile. “Don’t worry, Lando. I’m not here to pressure or scare you away. But I thought it might be important for you to understand something about how everything goes on around here.”

“In our culture,” your father explained as he placed the golf ball on the tee, “relationships are viewed differently than in the West. They’re not just about love or companionship, they’re built on sacrifice, duty, and responsibility. When you commit to someone, you’re committing to the entirety of it all—even to the family. It’s a partnership that demands effort and selflessness.”

“Now,” your father took his shot—a smooth, powerful drive that sent the ball soaring down the fairway. He straightened and turned back to Lando, resting the driver on his shoulder. “I’m not saying this to intimidate you. It’s far from it. I know how much my daughter cares for you, and from what I’ve seen, you care for her just as much. But I want to make sure you understand what this means to us—our family and her. It’s not just about dating or having fun. It’s about building a life together.”

Lando swallowed, feeling the weight of your father’s words. “I…I get that, sir. I really do, and I want you to know that I take our relationship seriously. She’s,” he paused, searching for the right words. “She’s the most important person in my life. I may not have everything figured out yet, but I’m fully committed to her. I want to make her happy and support her in every way I can.”

Your father studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “That’s good to hear, Lando. You’re a good man, and that’s all I needed to know.”

Lando exhaled softly, relieved but still thoughtful. Your father clapped him on the shoulder. “Now, let’s see if you can make this shot. I’m one up on you, and I don’t plan on losing today.”

”We’ll see about that, sir.” Lando grinned.

The two of them had just finished their round and were sitting in the shaded patio area of the clubhouse, sipping on cold drinks. Your father leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed.

“You know, back in her teens, she was quite the handful.” your father began, voice carrying an edge of humor.

Lando turned to him, intrigued but slightly nervous. “Oh?”

Your father nodded, a sly smile on his face. “She used to escape the house and date boys behind our backs. Thought she was clever about it too.”

Lando’s lips twitched into a smile, imagining you as a teenager, trying to outsmart your parents. “Really? I can’t imagine her sneaking around like that.”

“Oh, she was good,” your father said, in a playful tone. “She never introduced us to those boys, but we always knew who they were. We made it our business to know. Still, we never made a fuss, we figured she’d grow out of it—and she did.”

He just smiles as your father tells these little snippets of anecdotes of your life that you had never told Lando before. Lando just kept silent, and continued listening to your father.

“So when she introduced you to us, we were shocked to be honest.” your father laughed, a deeper, more genuine sound. “It was the first time she brought someone home. That was our first indication that this was serious, different from anything she’d had before.”

“To tell you the truth,” your father continued, tone shifting to something more reflective. “We always thought she’d end up seriously dating one of the sons from our family’s business partners, since that’s how these things tend to go. But looking at it now, we’re thankful that it’s you.”

Lando blinked, caught off guard. “Thankful? Why’s that?”

Your father leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table. “Because those boys, they have big, fragile egos. Pampered from birth, they’ve never had to work for anything, and never had to learn humility. Trust me, there’s nothing worse than a man who can’t admit his faults.” he looked at Lando meaningfully. “You’re nothing like that, you’ve worked hard for everything you’ve achieved. You respect her, and that means a lot to us.”

“Thank you, sir.” Lando replied as he felt a warmth spread through his chest. “That really means a lot to me.”

Your father nodded, a small but approving smile on his face. “Just don’t let her outplay you on the course of life, Lando. She might be silent and reserved most of the time, but she’s competitive.”

Lando laughed. “Oh, I know. She’s already winning in a lot of ways.”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear.” your father regarded him for a moment, then smiled. “Now, shall we see if they have any dessert worth trying here? Golf always leaves me craving something sweet.”

“Sounds good to me, sir.” Lando chuckled.

The house was still dark when you arrived, a quiet stillness greeting you as you set your things down and flicked on the lights. After slipping into more comfortable clothes—a loose white shirt and soft shorts, you made your way to the kitchen.

You had informed Lando earlier that you had decided it would be steak night, so you tied your back and opened the fridge, pulling out the steak to defrost, then setting them on the counter before gathering ingredients for the side dishes. You peeled and chopped the potatoes, boiling them in a pot of salted water, and then turned your attention to the vegetables.

Then you sliced the carrots, zucchini, and bell peppers—the rhythm of chopping and preparing was soothing, you then drizzled them with olive oil, sprinkled them with salt and pepper, then slid the tray into the oven to roast.

By the time the vegetables were roasting and the potatoes were soft, the steaks were now finally defrosted. You began to season them generously with salt, pepper, and a hint of garlic powder, then heated a cast-iron skillet until it was searing hot. The steaks sizzled as they hit the pan, filling the kitchen with the rich aroma of cooking meat.

While the steaks rested, you drained the potatoes and mashed them with butter, cream, and a touch of garlic. The creamy texture was perfect, and you set the pot aside before arranging everything on the plate.

Tonight, you wanted to dine outside by the pool deck, where the view of the city lights was nothing short of magical. Grabbing a couple stacks of plates and utensils, you stepped out to the deck and set the table. The air was cool, and the glow from the pool lights danced against the walls, creating a cozy ambiance.

Just as you returned to the kitchen to plate the food, you felt an arm wrapped around your waist and a soft kiss pressed to your cheek. Startled, you spun around to see Lando smiling down at you, hair slightly mussed from the day.

“You scared me!” you said with a laugh, leaning up to kiss him on the lips.

“Sorry,” he murmured, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “It smells amazing in here.”

“So, how was your day with Dad?” you asked smiling, brushing a hand over his arm.

“It was good,” he replied. “Tiring, but good. I think I held my own.”

You smiled at that and patted his chest gently. “Go change into something comfortable and grab a bottle of wine from the rack, we’re eating outside by the pool deck.”

“On it,” Lando said with a quick kiss to your temple before heading off to the bedroom.

You carried the plated food out to the pool deck, setting it down on the table. The city lights twinkled in the distance as you adjusted the chairs and smoothed the tablecloth. Lando soon joined you, a bottle of red wine in hand, dressed in a simple shirt and joggers.

“That looks incredible, love.” he said as he set the wine down and pulled out a chair for you.

“Why thank you,” you smiled, settling in on the chair. “Let’s eat.”

As the two of you began eating, the sound of clinking utensils and the occasional splash of water from the pool filled the serene evening air. You cut into your steak and took a bite before glancing at Lando, who was pouring wine into both of your glasses.

“So, as promised,” you began, setting your form down for a moment. “I wanted to tell you about the conversation that I had with Rachel earlier when I met up with her.”

Lando looked up from his glass, giving you his full attention. “Yeah? How did it go by the way, how’s she holding up?”

”She’s trying, but she’s still shaken from what happened with Auntie Eleanor.” you replied. “She told me that she finds it hard to tell Nick everything because Nicky practically worships her Mom, because well, that’s how Chinese sons are—they think their Moms fart Chanel No.5.”

He froze for a moment, processing what you said, and then burst into laughter. Lando set down his wine glass as he leaned back in his chair, shaking his head.

“That’s such an oddly specific comparison, babe. But honestly,” Lando said through his laughter, “it’s kind of perfect. I admit that at times, I notice that’s how Nick acts around Auntie Eleanor, isn’t it?”

“Yup,” you confirmed as you took another bite of your steam. “Rachel feels like Nick would never fully stand up to his mother and I get why she’s worried. But I explained to her how Auntie Eleanor is basically defenseless against two thousand years of Chinese filial piety.”

“Filial piety?” Lando repeated, brows furrowing slightly.

You took a sip of wine, then set the glass down carefully before explaining. “It’s this concept in Chinese culture that emphasizes respect, obedience, and care for your parents and elders.” you continued, “it’s not just about being polite, it’s deeply rooted in our traditions and values. Sons, in particular, are expected to honor their mothers in every way possible. That’s why it sometimes feels like their Moms can do no wrong.”

Lando nodded slowly, taking in your words. “So it’s more than just a family dynamic—it’s cultural, like a duty?”

“Exactly,” you said with a small smile. “It’s why Rachel feels the way she does, but I told her that she shouldn’t worry too much. Ah Ma has taken a liking on her, and that’s already a gold sign. Auntie Eleanor might act high and mighty, but at the end of the day, she doesn’t really have a say in Ah Ma’s decisions.”

“Basically, you’re saying that Auntie Eleanor has no powers here?” he tilted his head, eyes narrowing playfully.

“Not over Ah Ma, no. Hell no,” you said, chuckling. “And honestly, I think it’s about time someone stood up to Auntie Eleanor. Rachel is strong, even if she doesn’t always realize it, Nick and her will be fine. It’s just a matter of time she finds her own footing and Nick learning to balance his loyalty to Auntie Eleanor with his commitment to Rachel.”

Lando chuckled softly, raising his wine glass. “Well, here’s to Rachel and Nick figuring it out, and to Ah Ma—who clearly runs the show.”

You clink your wine glass against Lando’s with a grin. “Family is really fucking complicated, but hey, cheers to that.”

When Lando finished the last bite of his steak, he set his fork down with a satisfied sigh. “Speaking of Ah ma,” he began, swirling his wine glass, “you Dad told me something very interesting stuff today.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “Oh? What did he say?”

Lando smiled, leaning back in his chair. “He mentioned how he knew that Ah Ma already gave us her blessing and that she’s expecting this relationship to end up in marriage.”

You froze mid-bite, fork hovering above your plate. “Wait,” you said slowly, “did Dad give you the talk?”

His grin widened, and before he could even answer, you groaned and buried your face in your hands. “Oh my fucking god, that’s so embarrassing.” you mumbled, voice muffled.

“It wasn’t bad,” Lando said laughing. “He was just laying it all out on me. Talking about how serious relationships are in your culture and how family values commitment. Honestly, I kind of expected it.”

You peaked through your fingers, cheeks burning. “Still,” you muttered, “he didn’t have to do that.”

Lando leaned forward, eyes sparkling mischievously. “Oh, but that’s not all he told me.”

Your hands dropped from your face, your eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What else did he say?”

He smirked. “Apparently, back then you had a rebellious streak. Sneaking out to go on dates with different boys, huh?”

You groaned, slumping back in your chair. “Nooo. He did not tell you that.”

“Oh, he did,” Lando teased, clearly enjoying himself. “And he said that they knew exactly who those boys were because they were keeping track.”

Your head dropped to the table with a dramatic thud. “Why does Dad always have the need to air my embarrassing phase like that,” you said, voice muffled against the table.

Lando laughed. “Hey, it’s not that bad,” he reassured you.

Lifting your head, you frowned at him, still mortified. “Okay, but in my defense, I always had a feeling that they knew. Especially dad. I wasn’t exactly completely sure, you know? But now…” you sighed, gesturing at him. “Now I know that they know. Great.”

He reached across the table, fingers brushing against yours. “Is that why none of those boys ever made it past your family’s front door?”

“Yup,” you said, nodding. “Not a single one got far enough to meet my parents, I couldn’t really stand the thought of introducing someone who didn’t actually care about me at all.”

You continued, leaning back in your chair. “Along the way, I realized that they only wanted to be with me because of my family. They saw me as some kind of tool…I guess. Like being with me would give them status, connections, or some kind of benefit.”

Lando’s smile faded slightly, his expression turning serious. “I can imagine how tough it must’ve been.”

“I know,” you admitted. “I just wanted genuine connections, but they just saw me as an opportunity. So, before things got messy, I was always the one who ended it first. That’s why none of them ever got through the door of my parent’s house, or let alone set foot on our estate. They weren’t worth it at all.”

Lando reached across the table, hand covering yours. “Well, for the record, I’m glad your Dad approves of me, and I hope I’ve made it clear that I’m here because of you, not anything else.” he then added, “I do hope that I’ve done a better job at proving I’m not one of those boys.”

You smiled, finger tightening around his. “You’re not even close. You’re nothing like them, Lan. You’ve made it more clear, that’s why you’re here now.”

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains as you stood in front of the mirror, smoothing out the delicate fabric of your gown. The gown was breathtaking, every inch was meticulously crafted by Giambattista Valli himself. The subtle shimmer in the fabric caught the light as you moved, and you smiled, tracing your fingers over the discreet initials that had been embroidered near the hem—a personal touch that made the gown uniquely yours. Lando’s suit complemented you perfectly, a sharp, tailored masterpiece with matching initials of his name on the inner lapel.

Lando adjusted the cuffs on his crisp white dress shirt but fumbled slightly with the cuff links. Noticing his struggle, you stepped in closer, gently taking the cuff links from his hands.

“Here, babe, let me,” you said softly, deftly fastening the sleek gold links.

His eyes met yours, a small smile forming on his lips. “Thanks, love. You always know how to save me, huh.”

“You’d manage eventually,” you replied with a teasing smile, your fingers lingering for a moment on his wrist. “But we can’t afford to be late.”

Just as you finished, a soft chime from your phone notified you of the arrival of the car. “The car's here,” you said, stepping back to grab your clutch.

Lando picked up his jacket, slipping it on before crossing the room to you. “Ready?” he asked, offering his arm.

“Ready,” you confirmed, taking his arm as he led you to the door.

The car was waiting at the entrance, its sleek black exterior gleaming in the sunlight. The chauffeur quickly stepped out, opening the door for you, and Lando helped you down the small steps, his hand steady at your back as you navigated the delicate heels you were wearing. He opened the car door, his free hand gently resting on yours as you lowered yourself into the plush interior.

“Careful,” he murmured, making sure you were settled before following after you.

Once he was seated beside you, the car pulled smoothly away, the soft hum of the engine filled the air. You glanced at the matching embroidery on your outfits, a quiet sense of anticipation washing over you as you looked ahead to the day’s events.

The car slowed to a stop in front of the First Methodist Church, the scene outside was a whirlwind of flashing cameras and steady buzz of voices. There was a long line of luxury vehicles stretched down the street, each one spilling out more high-profile guests—foreign dignitaries, government leaders, business tycoons, and a studded lineup of Asia’s brightest stars.

Crowds outside were a sea of media personnel, their cameras aimed and ready to capture every moment of what deemed Singapore’s wedding of the century, akin to Royal Asian Wedding. The chauffeur stepped out and swiftly opened Lando’s door. He exited gracefully, buttoning his tailored suit jacket before turning to offer you a hand. You placed your hand in his, and helped you out of the car.

The moment you fully got out of the car, the flash of the cameras intensified, different photographers yelling questions and calling your names. You paused beside Lando, your arm loosely looped through his, both of you offering calm, poised expressions for the cameras.

“This is a lot,” Lando murmured under his breath, leaning closer so only you could hear.

“Welcome to Singapore’s media circus,” you replied quietly, managing a polite smile as you stood in place for a few more seconds.

The attention was relentless. A few reporters called out to Lando directly, asking for interviews or comments, their voices cutting through the crowd. He shook his head subtly, lifting a hand to politely decline as the two of you turned to make your way towards the church entrance.

You glided across the red carpet, your hand still resting lightly on Lando’s arm. As you approached the grand doors, the tall, ornate arches of the church loomed above, intricate carvings catching the light. The media frenzy continues behind you, but you maintain your composure.

Then, as you entered the threshold, a familiar face came into view, one that is so familiar with you—Francesca Shaw. She stood just off the side, her sharp eyes scanning the crowd as if assessing everyone in attendance. Her pristine gold dress was undoubtedly designer, her hair styled to perfection.

Your expression shifted instantly, a smile vanishing into a deadpan look. Francesca caught your gaze for a moment, her lips twitching as if she might say something, but your firm expression was enough to make her quickly redirect her attention to something, or rather someone else.

Lando noticed the brief exchange as you both walked past her. “Who’s that?” he asked, voice low but curious.

You glanced at him. “Francesca Shaw,” you replied simply, keeping your tone neutral.

He furrowed his brows. “Should I know who she is? Friend of yours?”

“Fuck no,” you answered quickly. “She was the one that’s responsible for the gutted fish in Rachel’s bed during Minty’s bachelorette party.”

Lando blinked, steps faltering for just a moment. “Wait, that’s her?!”

“Mm-hmm,” you confirmed, leading him further into the church. “Best to steer clear. Nothing good comes from her.”

He nodded, expression tightening slightly as he glanced back toward Francesca. “Noted.”

As you and Lando stepped into the main part of the church, the sheer opulence of the space struck you in awe. The vaulted ceilings were adorned with intricate gold details, and the air was filled with soft strains of a live string quartet stationed discreetly in one corner. Every surface seemed to glisten, whether from the polished marble floors, crystal chandeliers, or the hundreds of white orchids cascading over every available surface. It was evident that no expense had been spared—the grandeur practically screamed wealth and power.

Lando’s eyes scanned the space as he whistled low, “this is extravagant.”

You smiled, leaning slightly closer to him as you whispered back, “wait until you see the reception. This is just the warm-up.”

You and Lando moved further into the church, where you caught sight of your family by one of the pews. Your mother stood alongside your Auntie Alix, Auntie Eleanor, and Auntie Jacqueline, their presence commanding attention as they chatted with a group of equally polished society wives. It was a familiar tableau—your aunts all clustered together, forming an impenetrable circle of sharp eyes and even more sharper tongues.

Predictably, your Auntie Eleanor seemed to be critiquing the whole setup. She gestured subtly towards the floral arrangements, her expression a mix of disapproval and thinly veiled judgement. While your Auntie Jacqueline, ever the pragmatist, seemed to be nodding in agreement, and your mother maintained her usual composed smile, occasionally offering diplomatic comments.

You and Lando approached them briefly, exchanging polite greetings. Your mother’s smile softened when she saw you, and she leaned in to kiss your cheek.

“You look very lovely, my darling,” she said, before glancing at Lando and adding, “and the two of you together—perfection, as always!”

After a few moments of pleasantries, you had excused yourselves, knowing the four of them would stick together for the ceremony and be seated in the same pew.

You made your way to the second row, you noted that the first row had been reserved for the Khoos and Lees, with Colin and Araminta’s immediate families already seated. You scanned the room quickly but no sign of Rachel yet, though Nick was near the altar with Colin and the other groomsmen, laughing and chatting. You assumed Rachel must be somewhere nearby.

Upon reaching your seats, you and Lando slid into the second row, settling into the plush velvet cushions. Three rows behind you, your mother and aunts had taken their places, their polished presence unmistakable even without turning around.

You leaned towards Lando, lowering your voice into a conspiratorial whisper. “So, I heard from Auntie Alix,” you began, glancing around to make sure no one was eavesdropping, “that Colin and Minty’s family spent sixty-five million dollars on this wedding.”

Lando’s eyes widened slightly, though he managed to keep his expression neutral. “Sixty-five?” he repeated under his breath.

You nodded, biting back a laugh as you added, “and it made me laugh because I heard Auntie Jacqueline said, ‘we’re Methodists, forty million is our maximum budget for a wedding like this.’”

That was enough to make Lando chuckle softly and shake his head in disbelief. “Forty million is the maximum?” he echoed, tone incredulous but amused.

You grinned, leaning back slightly but keeping your voice low. “Apparently, anything above that is considered excessive—even by our standards.”

Then, you turned around discreetly in your seat to scan the church again, searching for Rachel. It didn’t take long to spot her, she had just arrived and was being greeted warmly by Oliver by the entrance. She moved with a quiet confidence, her luminous presence immediately drawing attention. Heads all turning as she walked past, captivated by the stunning dress she wore—a rich light blue that complimented her complexion perfectly and subtly shimmered in the light.

Your aunts, seated a few rows behind you, were visibly taken aback. Auntie Eleanor, who rarely displays much reaction, looked momentarily stunned, her usual sharp expression softening into one of unguarded surprise. Your Auntie Alix leaned closer to whisper something to her, and Auntie Jacqueline adjusted her posture, almost as if reevaluating Rachel in that moment.

Your mother, however, was all warmth. You could see her beaming brightly at Rachel, her smile filled with genuine approval. You knew immediately what she was thinking, she completely adored the dress and the elegance Rachel exuded.

But something else caught your attention. Rachel glanced towards the pew where your mother and aunts were seated, but she didn’t move towards them. It was obvious she had not been invited to sit with them. Likely, they had made some excuses about how their pew was full, even though you could see there was space.

Rachel hesitated for a brief moment, her eyes scanning the room for an empty seat. Without thinking twice, you raised your hand and waved her over, her eyes lighting up when she saw you, and she made her way towards you. When she reached you, you immediately stood up and pulled her into a warm hug.

“You look absolutely incredible,” you whispered, meaning every word. You stepped back slightly to admire the dress. “That color on you, it’s just so perfect.”

Rachel smiled, her cheeks flushing just slightly. “Thank you,” she replied softly, clearly touched by the compliment.

You gestured to the space beside you. “Come, come. Sit with us,” you said, nodding toward the pew. “There’s plenty of room here.”

She hesitated for only a second before accepting. “Thank you,” she said, voice genuine.

Rachel slid into the pew beside you, and you could feel a subtle sense of relief in her presence as she settled into the seat. Lando leaned over slightly to greet Rachel with a polite nod and warm smile, and exchanged a quick look with him, silently acknowledging how significant this small act of kindness was, especially considering the dynamics at play.

Then, the murmur of the crowd faded into silence as Colin, Nick, and the four other groomsmen made their entrance alongside the pastor. Together, they formed an impeccable picture of elegance and charm, with their perfectly tailored suits catching the soft glow of the church lights. They walked with synchronized strides, confident yet there’s a reverent air about them, like a dashing pack.

Your attention drifted to Rachel, seated beside you, and the way her expression softened when her eyes found Nick. You caught the subtle shift in her demeanor as their gazes locked, a quiet exchange of affection that needed no words. There was something magnetic about the way they looked at each other, as though the entire room fell away for just a brief moment.

A hush of anticipation swept over the congregation as Kina Grannis took the stage by the live string quartet. Her voice rose delicately, the familiar strains of I Can’t Help Falling in Love filled the whole church with a dreamy, romantic air. The melody was sweet and tender, it struck a chord deep within, making the atmosphere impossibly more magical.

Two tiny figures appeared at the entrance—adorable flower girls, their tiny hands clasping wicker baskets as they scattered delicate petals along the aisle. They moved in a choreographed sweetness, bright smiles stealing the hearts of everyone in the room.

Behind them, toddled an equally charming ring bearer, clutching the pillow with seriousness that belied his young age. Each careful step he took earned a quiet chuckle from the crowd, his determination clear as he reached the altar. Nick crouched slightly, taking the ring pillow from the boy, and the playful high-five exchanged between them drew a ripple of soft laughter and smiles.

There was a collective gasp echoing through the church. Water began to flow, a gentle cascade spilling onto the aisle, shimmering as it caught the light. It trickled in perfect harmony, creating a luminous, rippling path that stretched from the entrance to the altar. The sound of water intertwined with the stillness of the music, holding everyone in awe.

The lights dimmed suddenly, and the soft flicker of long delicate stems with glowing tips spread through the crowd like fireflies. One by one, everyone in the congregation reached for the stems and held it aloft, their glittery illumination casting a celestial over the church, all eyes turning towards the entrance.

A group of bridesmaids stood poised, holding beautifully decorated large fronds that veiled what could only be Araminta. Their positioning was precise, deliberate, and graceful. With a choreographed motion, the bridesmaids slowly lifted the fronds, revealing Araminta, standing right next to her father. The moment was breathtaking—she radiated an ethereal elegance that made her appear almost otherworldly.

Araminta held her father’s hand as she gracefully stepped out of her towering heels. The hushed audience barely had a chance to react before she stepped forward, placing her bare feet onto the watery aisle. The music resumed, delicate yet triumphant, as she began her slow, graceful walk.

The bridesmaids followed closely behind her, their steps echoing her elegance, as the congregation swayed their glittery lights in unison. It was a scene out of a dream, a river of light and water that guided Araminta towards her future. From your seat, you could see Colin at the altar, his composed demeanor wavered, expression softening as he took in the sight of Araminta, eyes glistening with unshed tears, emotion written plainly on his face.

You didn’t exactly know what came over you, but as you sat there in the church, watching Colin and Araminta exchange glances filled with love and anticipation, a thought took root inside your mind. The entire wedding, its grandeur, intimacy, and the sense of two people stepping into forever had stirred something within you. It was not a matter of envy or longing for the spectacle itself, but it was the way Colin looked at Araminta—the way she smiled back at him, and the unspoken promise that passed between them.

Perhaps, selfishly, you found yourself imagining that kind of future for yourself. Not just marriage for the sake of it, but a marriage with Lando. The idea settled gently, not as a plan or something to be rushed, but as a hope—a quiet wish for someday. Though it was still too early now, you both were at the top of your careers, still growing individually and as a couple. A year of dating was only the beginning, and there was no need to rush, but the seed of the thought was already there, talking with surprising ease.

It made you genuinely happy to see Colin and Araminta standing at the altar. You had been an observer of their relationship from the beginning, a silent witness to the small and significant moments that had brought them to this day.

Growing up, Colin had been a near-constant presence in your family’s life, a fixture at every gathering and celebration. He was practically an honorary member of your family, and it felt like he belonged there just as much as anyone else. You had seen how Colin pined for Araminta, how he had talked Nick’s ear off about her, recounting every detail of their interactions with the kind of fervor only someone deeply in love could manage. Nick had confided that much to you during your conversations over the years, shaking his head fondly at how his best friend could turn any discussion into one about Araminta.

Your relationship with Nick has always been different from that with your other cousins. Despite the age gap, there was a closeness there that came naturally. Unlike many of your other cousins, who were either too competitive or too caught up in their own bubbles, Nick had always been kind, grounded, and someone you can rely on. Growing up, you often found yourself gravitating towards him, trusting him in ways you could not with the others.

So, seeing Colin—Nick’s best friend, your family’s honorary member, now finally standing with Araminta, the woman he had loved for so long, felt like a full circle of something extraordinary. It made you believe in the kind of love that could weather time and challenges, the kind of love that could one day be yours with Lando.

The reception took place at Gardens by the Bay, where the Botanical Gardens had been transformed into a scene straight out of fairytales. It was utterly breathtaking—every detail meticulously designed to create an almost otherworldly atmosphere. The iconic supertrees stretched overhead, illuminated with soft lights that shimmered in sync with the music. A Chinese big band played softly, filling the air with a nostalgic charm, while fireworks erupted in bursts of vibrant color against the dark night sky, casting an ethereal glow over the festivities.

Colin and Araminta were having their first dance at the center of it all, moving effortlessly in harmony. The wedding party stood loosely circled around them, watching the moment in admiration. You stood close to Lando, his arms loosely draped around your waist, holding you gently but securely. Chest pressed against your back as he swayed with you to the rhythm of the music, a silent echo of the couple’s dance.

Lando leaned in closer, voice low and intimate as he said, “you know, I didn’t really get the chance to tell you earlier, but you look absolutely stunning today, baby.”

His words caught you slightly off guard, but the sincerity in his tone made your chest tighten with warmth. Before you could respond, he placed a soft kiss on your cheek, lingering just long enough for his breath to tickle your skin.

“And this dress,” he added, lips brushing against your exposed shoulder now, “it’s beautiful. But it doesn’t even come close to how insanely beautiful you are.”

Your heart raced as Lando shifted, tilting your face gently towards his. His lips captured yours in a kiss, slow and tender, yet filled with a quiet intensity that made the world around you momentarily dissolve. When Lando pulled back, his eyes met yours, a glint of affection and something deeper reflecting in the warm light of the supertrees.

When Colin and Araminta’s first dance came to an end, the band seamlessly transitioned to a lively and upbeat tune. The atmosphere shifted immediately, with laughter bubbling through the crowd, and Araminta, radiant and full of energy, already had an outfit change, began beckoning guests onto the dance floor.

“Come on, come on!” she called out, her voice carrying over the music. “The party isn’t going to dance itself!”

You and Lando exchanged a quick glance, a shared look of amusement and anticipation. Without any single hesitation, he took your hand gently, lacing his fingers through yours.

“Let’s go,” he said, tone light and teasing.

“Lan, babe, I don’t really—” you began, hesitating slightly, but he was already pulling you toward the dance floor.

“You’re with me,” he assured, grinning reassuringly. “I won’t let you look awkward, I promise.”

The music pulsed through the whole garden, and the dance floor was quickly filling with guests, each one letting loose in the joyful chaos of the celebration, singing along with the band. You had never considered yourself much of a dancer, the thought of dancing always made you self-conscious. Your movements felt stiff and unnatural, and the fear of looking out of place usually kept you from even trying. But with Lando, it was different.

Lando kept a firm but gentle grip on your hand, spinning you lightly to the rhythm of Wo Yao Ni De Ai. His energy was very contagious, movements all natural and easy, and he guided you effortlessly, making sure you felt comfortable.

“Just follow my lead,” he said, voice steady over the music. “And don’t think about it too much.”

You did as he said, allowing yourself to let go of the self-consciousness. You focused on him, and only him—Lando’s playful smile, the way his hands steadied you, the warmth of his presence. Soon, the tension that you’re feeling in your body eased, and you found yourself laughing as you moved to the beat.

“I told you you'd be fine,” Lando said, voice filled with a playful confidence.

“I still think I look very ridiculous,” you replied, laughter spilling out.

“You look amazing,” he countered without missing a beat.

The two of you moved seamlessly among the crowd, completely immersed in the music and the moment. Lando twirled you under his arm, making you laugh again as you stumbled slightly, but his steady hands caught you before you could lose balance.

As the music reached its end, he pulled you in closer. Lando’s movements slowed, the lively rhythm fading into the background as his gaze locked with yours. There was an intensity in his eyes, a soft, unspoken emotion that made you breath catch. Without a word, he leaned in, lips capturing yours in a kiss—gentle, tender, and filled with quiet passion that seemed to echo everything unsaid between you.

When he pulled back, a small smile played on his lips. “See? You’re a natural,” he teased, tone soft and warm.

You just rolled your eyes at him, but couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. The music had picked up again, and without hesitation, you two returned to the rhythm of the night, dancing together with an ease and happiness that made the rest of the world fade away, leaving you and Lando in a little bubble that you made yourself.

As the party went on, you and Lando continued swaying to the rhythm of the music, letting the night carry you in its revelry. The energy of the party was contagious, and you both were determined to make the most of it. The crowd around you was lively, a series of laughter and chatter blending into the music.

Suddenly, someone bumped into you, jostling you slightly. Turning to see who it was, you found yourself face-to-face with Rachel, who was looking very upset, her expression disoriented and distressed as she weaved through the throng of dancing guests.

“Rachel?” you called out, instinctively reaching out to her, your brows furrowing with concern.

Lando gently let go of your hand, his expression mirroring yours. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asked, his voice laced with worry.

Rachel, however, did not respond. She seemed lost in her thoughts, her gaze darting around as if trying to find something, or someone. Her pace was erratic and quickened as she moved further into the crowd.

You were about to follow her when a piercing scream cut through the music, causing heads to turn. There was laughter and the unmistakable hum of a crowd gathering, phones were raised in unison, their screens glowing as guests pointed toward something, or someone hidden behind the bushes near the edge of the garden.

Your stomach dropped as you and Lando turned to see what the commotion was about. Emerging from the bushes was half-naked Bernard Tai, his shirt already gone and his pants barely clinging to his hips. His movements were chaotic, clearly drunk, and he pawed at Kitty Pong, who struggled to pull herself away.

Kitty, the girlfriend of your cousin Alistair, looked utterly mortified. Her dress was disheveled, and her face was flushed with shame as she desperately tried to cover herself. Bernard, oblivious to the humiliation that they are now facing and radiating off of Kitty, stumbles toward her again, but she shoves him back.

The crowd wasn’t really helping. Instead of intervening, they just stood there, laughing, and some guests outright pointing and jeering, others filming the entire scene as Kitty managed to pull her dress up and flee from the scene, heels clicking sharply against the pavement as she disappeared into the night.

You felt a mix of shock and disgust twist in your stomach, gaze flicking between the fleeing Kitty and the drunken Bernard, who was now slumped against a nearby table, seemingly unaware, or uncaring, of the chaos he had caused. At Colin and Araminta’s wedding, nonetheless.

Lando shook his head in disbelief. “Fucking hell,” he muttered under his breath.

Though your attention snapped back to Rachel. She had managed to stop briefly during the commotion, her body all stiff and face unreadable as she watched the scene unfold.

“Rachel!” you called again, but by the time you stepped forward, she was already gone, melting into the crowd and disappearing from view.

A few moments later, Nick came running toward you and Lando, face flushed and breathing uneven. “Have you guys seen Rachel?” he asked urgently, eyes scanning the crowd as though hoping she might reappear.

You glanced back toward the direction Rachel had gone, your worry mounting. “She was just here, but—”

“She already left, mate.” Lando finished, voice somber.

Nick looked around frantically, but it was clear he was too late. Rachel was already nowhere to be found, and whatever had just unfolded seemed to mark the abrupt descent of what had been.

As the night wound down, you and Lando decided it was time to call it a day. The events of the wedding had been unforgettable, but the exhaustion was starting to creep in. Knowing that you only had one day left in Singapore before flying to the UK for Christmas, you both set out to find Colin and Araminta to thank them properly.

After weaving through the remaining guests hand in hand, you finally spotted the newlyweds near the dance floor, glowing with happiness as they spoke to family and friends. When you approached, Colin was the first to notice, greeting you and Lando with a wide smile.

“Hey, you two! Having a good time?” Colin asked, tone warm and genuine.

“A very amazing time,” you replied with a smile. “Thank you so much for inviting us. This was truly the most beautiful wedding I’ve ever been to.”

“Absolutely,” Lando added, nodding. “It was really incredible. Congratulations again to both of you.”

Araminta beamed, her hands resting lightly on Colin’s arm. “Thank you so much for coming. It means the world to us to have you here.”

“Though we wish we could’ve stayed longer,” you said, “but we’re flying back to the UK the day after tomorrow to spend Christmas with Lan’s family.”

Araminta’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s very wonderful! But before you go, we absolutely need a picture together.”

She glanced around and quickly called over a photographer, waving him toward your small group. “We need a picture of the four of us,” she told the photographer with a laugh.

The photographer positioned all of you, and Colin gently placed a hand on Lando’s shoulder while Araminta stood beside you, her arm lightly around your waist. The flash went off, capturing the moment perfectly.

“Wait, wait,” Araminta said after the photographer stepped away. “We need one on your phone too!”

You quickly pulled out your phone, handing it to her so she could take the picture. She directed Colin to pull in a little closer so you could all fit on the frame. This time, the pose was more casual, with everyone leaning in and smiling brightly.

After the pictures were taken, Colin suddenly chimed in. “Oh, by the way, Harrison mentioned the other day that you’re moving to Monaco soon?”

You nodded. “That’s the plan. Everything’s set to go in a few weeks.”

“Then we’ll probably see you in Monaco soon!” Araminta said with a smile. “We’ve got a few trips planned early next year.”

“Definitely! Let us know when you’re coming,” Lando said. “We’ll take you around and catch up.”

“For sure, man! Absolutely.” Colin replied, grinning wide.

You and Lando hugged Colin and Araminta goodbye, exchanging heartfelt well wishes for their honeymoon and married life ahead. As you turned to leave, Araminta gave your hand a quick squeeze.

“Have a safe trip, and Merry Christmas!” she said happily.

“Merry Christmas!” you and Lando said in unison before heading off to find your mother.

Your mother was seated at a table, chatting animatedly with your Auntie Eleanor. When she saw you approach, she stood up and pulled you into a warm embrace.

“You two leaving already?” she asked, tone affectionate.

“We are,” you said softly. “But it was such a beautiful wedding. Everything was perfect.”

“I’m so glad you could be home,” she replied, smoothing a hand over your arm. “Have a safe flight to the UK, and please give my regards to Lando’s family.”

“We will,” you promised, hugging her tightly once more before stepping back. “Lando and I will be back for the New Year’s.”

Your mother stretched out her arms to Lando, giving him a hug. “Thank you for everything.”

“Take good care of her, okay?” your mother reminded, as she smiled at Lando kindly.

“Always,” Lando replied with quiet sincerity.

When you and Lando finally walked through the door of your home, a deep sense of relief washed over you both. The quiet was a stark contrast to the chaos of the day, and you couldn’t help but sigh as you finally slipped off your heels by the entryway. Lando stretched his arms over his head, letting a low groan before giving you a small smile.

“Fucking finally,” he said, voice filled with exhaustion but tinged with amusement. “Home sweet home. That was…something, huh.”

You nodded, placing your clutch by the glass table. “Eventful doesn’t even begin to describe it.”

After settling down on the couch, you pulled out your phone and sent Rachel a quick text:

Hey, Rachel. I hope you’re okay. If you need anything or just want to talk, I’m always here for you.

You stared at the screen for a few moments before putting the phone down. There was a lot on your mind, but Rachel’s well-being was at the top of the list right now. Lando was already seated, leaning back against the cushions with his tie undone and his jacket draped over the armrest. He turned to you with a tired grin.

“That’s got to be the most entertaining wedding reception I’ve ever been to. Not wild, exactly, but definitely eventful. I mean—” he gestured vaguely with his hands. “What even was that? Who are those people?”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “You mean Bernard and Kitty?”

“Yeah.” Lando nodded.

You sighed deeply, not really knowing where to begin or how to start the conversation about Bernard and Kitty. “Bernard Tai is…well, where do I even fucking start with that guy? Let’s see…he’s the only son of Dato’ Tai Toh Lui and Carol Tai, an insanely wealthy family. The Tai Fortune is massive, and Bernad’s basically the heir to all of it. He’s a former classmate of Nick and Colin back in the day.”

“And?” Lando prompted, tilting his head.

“And he’s spoiled as fuck,” you said bluntly. “Like, obnoxiously spoiled. He’s been handed everything his entire life and spends his day burning through money on the most ridiculous shit. He lives for excess and has zero accountability for anything he does. Basically, to sum up all of it—he’s a walking disaster who somehow gets away with everything because of daddy’s money and his family’s influence.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by all of it. “Sounds like he’s a real charmer.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s one way to put it.” you hesitated for a moment before continuing. “And then there’s Ms. Kitty Pong.”

“She’s Alistair’s girlfriend, right?” Lando asked, recalling her name from earlier.

“That’s ex-girlfriend now,” you corrected. “Kitty’s…a real piece of work. She used to be a soap opera star who decided to pivot into climbing the social ladder. She’s been trying, well, desperately, to get into the higher social circles here, but that’s not really going well for her.”

You continued, “most people look down on her because they see her as a gold-digger, and honestly, they’re not really wrong. She's always relying on people like Oliver or Corinna Ko-Tung—Fiona’s cousin, to help her navigate these circles.”

Lando frowned slightly. “And Bernard?”

“Not much better, honestly,” you shrugged. “Yes, he’s a part of our circle, but no one takes him seriously because he’s…well, Bernard. After tonight? Him and Kitty just cemented themselves as gossip fodder for weeks, maybe months. What they pulled tonight at Colin and Minty’s wedding reception is only going to add fuel to the fire. Kitty’s already seen as an outsider, and now, people have an excuse to talk, ridicule, and ostracize her even more.”

He let out a low whistle, leaning his head back against the couch. “That’s rough. But honestly, I don’t get why they thought this, of all nights, was the right time to make a scene.”

You exhaled sharply, the frustration you had been holding back starting to bubble up. “Exactly. Colin and Minty’s wedding was supposed to be their moment. They’ve worked so hard to make it perfect, and then Bernard and Kitty come along and turn it into…that.”

Lando reaches over, taking your hand in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Hey, don’t let them ruin it for you. The wedding was still beautiful, and Colin and Minty looked so happy. That’s what matters, right?”

You nodded slowly, trying to let go of your irritation. “Yeah, you’re right. It's just…makes me mad, you know? They deserved better than that.”

They did,” Lando agreed, voice soft. “But it’s already over now, and you can’t control what other people do. All you can do now is focus on the good parts of the day, and trust me, there were a lot of those.”

You smiled faintly, leaning into him. “Thanks for the reminder. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Lando pressed a light kiss to the top of your head. “Always.”

[yukioos]

APOCALYPSE

SUMMARY: jayce talis x reader // after dealing with much criticism from heimerdinger and complaints from viktor about hextech, he finally walks home and ends his day peacefully lying on your chest.

AUTHORS NOTE: hi guys! i’m working on a viktor x vampire reader fic so that’ll probably come out this or next week. happy holidays, have a good day! this is 1.6k words

WARNINGS: not proofread, angst, jayce is going through a lot, depression, stress, anxiety, reader n jayce are married, pet names, reader is referred to as ‘mrs.’ and ‘wife’

jayce had to sit in a room and listen to heimerdinger criticize and critique his work for three hours. three whole hours were spent listening to him complain about hextech, and the professor wouldn’t let the scientist utter a single word. eventually, he just tuned out the sounds and words from the elder, and instead tried to think about you, his wife.

most of his days were spent thinking about you anyway. but sometimes your relationship would go through rough patches because of how little time jayce was at home. you understood he couldn’t be home all the time, he was a scientist, after all. the city of piltover heavily depended on him, and you knew this put major stress on the man.

sometimes he would become distant, and you would become worried for him and his health. days without hearing a word from your husband were common, you became accustomed to it. because of this, you cherished your days with him, and continue to do so whenever you encounter him.

jayce didn’t know how much of an impact he had on you by not being in your life as often as he wanted to. you were everything to him. you were the reason he did everything for piltover, it was all to protect you.

but he didn’t know how unhealthy it was for him to skip meals and hardly get any sleep just to keep the city safe. he knew the city wouldn’t be as developed without him, but he always felt the need to do better. when heimerdinger critiqued his work constantly, he began to feel overwhelmed and anxious with every step he took, in fear of not pleasing someone.

he once snapped at viktor for incorrectly solving a formula used for the hextech. unfortunately, he hadn’t noticed how agitated he had become because he was too focused. he began to hate himself more and more with every mistake he made and overworked himself past his limits.

as the days passed, you hardly heard from jayce. worry clouded your mind, and your heart raced quickly once your phone rang. you picked it up and glanced around your bedroom.

“um, hello?” you stuttered, seeing professor heimerdinger’s contact on the screen. you tilted your head and thought to yourself why the professor would be calling you at this time, at eleven at night.

“ah, mrs. talis! i wish we could speak on better terms, it is nice to speak to you again. however, eh, your husband has… collapsed. i was wondering if you could bring him back to your residence once we wake him up?” his chirpy voice seemed duller than usual, with a hint of dissatisfaction. he glanced at viktor, who gave him a halfhearted smile as he continued pacing around the room.

“wh— huh? i’ll pick him up but why has he passed out? i’m confused, professor, is he—”you began to ramble, overthinking all the scenarios that could have happened to your loved one. he hasn’t come home in days, you should’ve been at the academy with him. you should’ve been by his side, maybe this wouldn’t have happened if you were.

“please, mrs. talis, do not worry. i believe he hasn’t slept for a healthy amount of time, so he just passed out. no biggie, do not feel frightened for him. he is okay, he may just be… taking a power nap.” another voice is heard on the other end of the line, and the professor pauses, “ah, i apologize. i must leave now, as i have more work to do. please head over to the academy and pick him up. thank you, goodbye!” he replies, speeding up his words near the end of the call. he hangs up, leaving you with unanswered questions.

you slowly take the phone away from your ear and stare at the frame on your nightstand. it’s a photo of you and jayce getting married, and he looked as handsome as ever. tears were visible on both of your faces, mascara ran down your cheeks. it was the happiest day of both of your lives.

you really hoped he was okay.

when you arrived at the academy, you walked up to the professor’s lab, as you had studied there years ago. your heels clacked against the tiled floor, having to use a flashlight to see through the dark hallways. you gently knocked on the professor’s door and were met face-to-face with jayce’s lab partner, viktor.

“hello, mrs. talis. it is nice to meet you. as the professor also said, i wish it were under different circumstances.” he smiled and turned his head toward jayce, who ashamedly looked down at the ground. heimerdinger was gently speaking to him, but it seemed as if jayce wasn’t listening, like he was in his own headspace.

he had dark eyebags and had lost weight, his skin became more pale and ghostly. it was clear he wasn’t taking care of himself.

your eyebrows turned upwards, and you slowly approached your husband with worried eyes. heimerdinger cleared the path to him and nodded, permitting you to speak to him.

“jayce, sweetheart,” you mumbled, looking up at his form as he sat on the stool, you bent down so his eyes would look at yours. you brought your manicured hand up to his face and rubbed his cheek.

“we’re gonna go home, okay? you gotta take a break,” you persuaded, continuing to comfortingly rub his pale cheek. it was always one of the things that made him feel warm and cared for.

he nodded and mumbled an, “okay,” before slowly standing up and waiting for you to lead him outside. you gently placed your hand in his, and he weakly curled his larger hand around yours. you mouthed a ‘thank you’ to viktor and heimerdinger, then walked the path toward your shared house.

once the two of you arrived, jayce slipped his shoes off, and you did as well. you lead him up to your bedroom, where you suggested he’d properly sleep for at least eight hours.

the both of you slipped off your clothes and changed into comfortable ones, but what bothered you was that jayce hadn’t said a word since you brought him to the house. so when you dimmed the lights and laid on your side of the bed, you were surprised to see jayce hadn’t curled up into your side yet. he was normally a cuddle bug, but maybe he’s changed.

his eyes looked sullen as he stared at the ceiling. he sighed and turned his head towards you without a smile or word, staring deep into your soul, as if he was trying to tell you something.

you could guess what he was thinking, so you opened your arms up to him. he slowly moved to your side of the bed, and laid his body on yours. he let out a large sigh and perfectly laid his head on your chest. his breathing suddenly became more relaxed once you began to scratch his scalp, a gesture he loved ever since you two settled into a romantic relationship.

you began to feel cold drops of liquid on your chest, ones that you could only guess were tears. when you glanced down, you saw him biting his trembling lip. his body was shaking and holding onto you for dear life, and your heart broke at the sight. you would never want your husband to feel whatever he must’ve been feeling at that moment.

“jayce, baby, what’s wrong? i’m getting worried about you,” you mumbled, tilting his head up with your free hand. he began to let out sobs and whimpers, trying to hold them back but failing miserably. his walls broke down just at the caring words from his wife.

“‘m sorry ‘m not good enough,” he gasped, trying to take in more air. you and his mother always told him he was perfect, that he didn’t need fixing. hell, he even started telling others that, but he never would’ve believed he would’ve stopped thinking he was good enough for himself. his world came crashing down, all the stress plummeted to his heart, and in his lover’s arms.

“jayce, you’re perfect. you’re good enough for me, you’re good enough for the city, you should be good enough for yourself. you’re amazing, do you even know how much you’ve done for this city? you should be proud of yourself, honey!” you praised, causing his whimpers and sobs to become quieter, as he felt loved by your words.

“do you have an idea on how to not… dive into the headspace you’re in again?” you asked, wanting him to have control over the situation. maybe he would feel a bit better that way.

“can you make that decision for me?” he mumbled, not wanting to think too much. he just wanted to rest on your plush chest, with your warm arms trapping him in your hold.

you giggled, “mhm. how does a couple of days or a week off work sound? i’m sure the professor would let you have a break, baby. you need it.” you felt a smile and nod against your chest, and glanced down to see his almost asleep figure. his grip on your body became loose, even as his hand lingered on your thigh.

you were glad he was back home and safe. hopefully he would feel better and take it easy by the time he got back to working on the hextech.

even though he was almost asleep, you murmured soft praises to the man, including quiet ‘i love you’s,’ hoping it eased his mind. he fell asleep happy and peacefully in your arms, knowing he was loved and perfect in your eyes.

[x-gabrielle-x]

Tides Of Survival | 1

Pairings: Finnick Odair x Reader.

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, murder, swearing, major and minor injuries, death, (eventual) smut, mentions of forced prostitution.

Summary: The white swan of the Capitol; gracious, elegant, and innocent. You catch many of the Capitol's attention in your games, whether that was due to your agility, cleverness, or looks in all, even managing to capture the gaze of your young mentor and old friend, Finnick Odair.

Series Masterlist | Pinterest Board

Although most days in District Four were hot, today was definitely one of the most. The sun blared down on your back and sweat lined your forehead, creased with dedication and concentration. You swore that if it were to get any hotter than this, your skin might as well be melting off.

The breeze did little to cool you down, the wind hitting your face as your fingers worked at the knots in your aching hands. You could conclude now that you were miserable at knot tying.

Frowning, your smaller hands lifting the mess of a rope up to your father's gaze, you called him.

"I still can't do it, Pa" you whined, gaze trained on him as his fingers worked effortlessly at his now half-finished net.

He glanced down, brown eyes flicking between you and the disaster held tightly in your smaller grip. He smiled, though his fingers remained at his work.

"You'll get it, Princess. You've only been practicing for a few hours," he tried, but you were determined.

"All the kids at school can make them now, I don't want to be left out." Twisting the rope between your hands, you undid the poor knot before aimlessly placing it down on the wooden work bench, fingers raw from the rough material.

He hummed, picking up a weight that laid off to his right and tying it to his work. "Sometimes it's just harder for others to learn. Thats why we practice, so that we become better."

You huffed when he turned away, though you weren’t able to avert your gaze from his hands. They worked effortlessly with the small rope, weaving and pulling into patterns. Though District Four was full of different kinds and styles of nets and knots, your fathers were some of their proudest works.

"How about this," he started, eyeing you at his side as you sat atop the table boredly, legs kicking back and forth. "When we get home, I have some old rope in my bedroom. We can practice together when I'm off work. Does that sound good?" He asked, and like a switch your smile was gleaming back up at him.

He laughed, a solemn look flashing over his features when he went to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. "You smile just like your ma, Princess." He pressed a quick kiss to your head.

Whilst he continued his work, you allowed for your gaze to wonder. The docks of District Four were crowded with workers; some actively catching a variety of fish and others weaving and knotting nets at the benches like your father. The air lingered the smell of salt and seaweed with every crash of the waves against the shore. The heat blaring down at you made you ache for the feeling of the cool water surrounding your body, and you watched on as sunlight danced across the water like ribbons of gold, as if taunting you to give in.

"How much longer?" You asked. The sun had yet to set, and you knew that would mean a few hours at the least.

Your father let out a breath, and you didn't miss the way his hands trembled and flexed with exhaustion. "Still got a few hours, Hun. I need to go and grab something off Matt, so stay put here, alright?"

Once you nodded, he was already walking a few tables down and disappearing into the crowd of people. Now alone, your gaze caught onto the rope beside you, fingers etching out to grab the rough material when a voice piped up from behind you.

"Maybe I can help you."

You turned, startles to see a young boy stood behind you. You recognized him as one of the boys from the year above you, though you didn't remember his name. His sun-bleached blonde hair was pushed around from the salty ocean breeze, and his green eyes sparkled with mischief. He stood with a certain confidence that you admired, his gaze trained on the untied knot at your side.

You hummed in question, and seeing your confusion he picked up the rope you had previously discarded, twirling it in his palm as if he was dissecting it.

"I've already tried," you told him, though you were quite embarrassed admitting it. A District Four girl couldn't even tie her own net.

He raised a brow. "Can you tie shoelaces?"

Taken aback, you frowned at him, slightly offended. "Yes, I can tie shoes. I'm not that bad."

"Can you tie any knots?"

"Only a few my Pa taught me."

His lips quirked into a grin. "Great! Then you won't have a problem."

He handed you the rope before fishing around in a nearby crate of ropes. Finding what he was looking for, he turned to you and set the rope out flat.

"All you need to do it watch carefully, and if you're stuck ill help you."

You didn't answer, only watching as he slowly began to explain to you between weaving and pulling. He kept it at a slow pace so that you were able to follow along easily, and though you messed up a few times, he was quick to correct you. Your movements were hesitant and slow as you tied your knot, and you noticed Finnick pause at your side.

"You know," he began. "You make fumbling around look kind of fancy."

You wrinkled your nose into a scowl. "Thats not a compliment."

He laughed, and you glanced at him from the corner of your eye. "I promise it is," he said.

A pause.

"What's your name?" He had asked, watching you closely. He noticed that you barely were watching him work now, instead getting the hang of the knots yourself.

You glanced at him, smiling brightly. "Y/N."

He nodded. "I'm Finnick."

After some time, you couldn't help but to smile down at the finished net in your hands. It was only small and still poorly done, but it was better. Better than any progress you'd made so far. You held it up to Finnick, gleaming brightly.

"See? You did it!" Finnick smiled, though he let out a small laugh when you eyed the net wearily with a grimace. "Not bad for somebody who can't tie shoelaces."

You shot him a look, though the corner of your lip tilted into a smile. "I told you I could tie laces?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Just better now."

You lifted the net so that it was eye level with the both of you. Some of the knots were better than others, and half the net hung lower than the other, but nevertheless it was yours.

"Should we test it?" Finnick questioned, and you eagerly nodded and jumped off the bench.

The planks creaked beneath your feet as you ran to the end of the deck, Finnick hot on your trail. The net was practically tangled around your arms, and you shrugged it off with excitement, gazing down at the water below. You noticed some of the Peacekeepers leant up against the wooden railing, and though their helmets concealed their expressions, you knew they were watching. They always were.

"Let's hope your throwing is better than your net making," Finnick joked, but you ignored him, finally getting the newly made net untangled and throwing it as far out into the water as you could.

"Imagine how good I'll be in a few weeks," you thought, but Finnick was quick to nudge you.

"Not ever as good as me, though."

You opened your mouth to retort but were cut off by a gasp when a splash in the water caught your attention. Finnick helped to pull your net back up onto the doc, the both of you noticing it had come back empty.

"I definitely saw something," you murmured, though there was no upset in your tone. You were eying the net carefully, gaze practically burning.

Finnick shrugged. "Next time, we can make the-"

"Wait!" You suddenly squealed, digging around into the wet net. It was then that Finnick realized the subtle movements from under one corner of the net. You dug around, hand finally clasping around the fish.

"I got one!" The words caught in your throat with excitement, and you watched entranced by the scales of the fish that shimmered like treasure. Perhaps it was treasure to you.

The moment was short lived when the fish in its mighty attempt flapped its fins, slipping from your grasp and falling back into the water. Finnick was prepared to assure you that you could always try again, but when you turned to him, bright smile on your face, he swore he'd never seen anybody happier. Your smile was contagious to him.

"I caught a fish in my own net!" You jumped up and down, and you noticed your father back at the work bench from the distance. You turned to Finnick, E/C eyes sparkling with pride. "Next time we will catch more fish together." It was a promise.

"Thank you, Finnick," you gleamed, before running back to your father with the soaking net, telling him about the exciting news and practically shoving your new net in his face.

Your words echoed in his mind. Next time, he thought, the smile lingering on his face at the promise of many.

©x-gabrielle-x. Do not steal, copy or translate my works.

[cheriladycl01]

Could you do fic for Fernando Alonso with wife reader? She was with him when both AM's drivers are going to the paddock for media days. And he looks so hot wearing an all white fit. He's doing all sorts of things, like making butterflies in her stomach. With the appearance of all black Lance. Maybe a little suggestive and fluff. Thanks!! :)))

You make me feel - Fernando Alonso x Wife! Reader

Plot: It’s media day, and your husband couldn’t look any sexier …

You’d stayed behind at the hotel having slept in longer than your husband who’d been up since the crack of dawn going for a run around the track before getting ready for the day. You’d taken an extra long shower and more time to get ready, until you basically floated into the paddock.

You hadn’t seen your husband all morning and you were excited to finally see him. You wave at the other drivers you pass that you were familiar with like Lewis and Max before rounding closer to the Aston Martin hospitality.

You make yourself known to the engineers around you, smiling and making conversation with them about today and how they thought it would go.

“Oh, by the way Fernando told us that we should send you too him if we saw you before him!” One of the younger mechanics grins pointing into the glass doors.

“Oh thank you Jay!” You smile before wishing them good luck for the upcoming race and goodbye for now. You make your way through the building sending a hello to everyone who makes your acquaintance.

Eventually you see your husband looking better than ever, he was in a white fit, thanks to his own branding. He had a Kimoa white top on and white karki shorts. When he saw you he immediately found his way over to you.

“Mmmmmm hermosa” he smiles pulling you into him, hugging you tightly.

“How was your morning, you were very sleepy” he grins, holding you at arms length to look over your now bright and awake expression, one very different from your half asleep, grunts and groans as he left you as the sun was just starting to peak its way over the building.

“I had a very good sleep, got to spread out the whole way” you tease looking up at him with a laugh. He laughs with a shake of his head.

“You don’t like me snuggling with you?” He asks, moving a hand to his chest in mock offence. He obviously wasn’t actually offended as he knew you liked to tease him like this often.

“Of course I do. But I do like turning into a starfish?” You grin, and he cocks his head to the side wondering what you are going on about. You attempt to think of the way to explain it in Spanish.

“Mmmm I think it would be estrella de mar?” You explain wondering if there was a more technical word for it.

“Ah yes, you do that even when I’m in the bed though” he chuckles and you gasp.

“I do not!” You say slapping his shoulder lightly.

“But you do, you just … sprawl out over me” he grins pulling you into a quick kiss before a familiar voice interrupts you both.

“Hey guys” Lance’s voice sounds past the loud clinking of coffee cups and plates from the busy hospitality suite.

“Ohhhh my gosh!! My son!! I haven’t seen you in ages” you say pulling him into a hug.

“Ahhh you look so nice! Did Fernando send you those clothes. Kimoa suits you” you grin seeing the branded clothes that he was wearing.

“No, I lost a bet with Daniel, Lando and Fernando that if I lost it I’d have to wear their merch at the next race. Wearing Nando’s today, Daniel’s tomorrow and Landos on Sunday” he laughs.

He looked good in Fernandos merch, as right now they were basically polar opposites. The vision of yin and yang.

“I like it, but aren’t you hot in all black?” You ask looking at the sheen of sweat across his brow that was nearly blocked by his sunglasses.

“A little but hotter in the car, work up that tolerance” he grins before checking his surrounding seeing his sister and running over to pull her into a hug.

You see your husband take two waters from a waitress raining his head to take the drinks a little spilling onto the white shirt. Once he’s done he comes back over handing you the remaining bottle nodding for you to drink it.

Your head cocks to the side.

“It’s a hot day, you gotta keep your hydration up okay?” He nods and you can’t help that swarming feeling in your stomach.

Your husband often gave you butterflies despite having been married for the good portion of 6 years. You always told him that was the best part of your relationship despite you being able to read him like a book, he always managed to have a surprise of two that made you feel like a giddy school girl.

“Thanks, you know you’re the best right?” You smile at him shyly and he looks at you shocked. It wasn’t often that he saw you shy in front of him, but he was always proud when he caught you out like this. So that shocked face slowly turned into a smirk.

“You think so?” He asks and you roll your eyes, a light blush crossing your cheeks as you look up at him.

“You know I do, wouldn’t have married you otherwise” you grit out awkwardly.

“Mmm didn’t tell you that you look beautiful today. Like I don’t even understand how you are my wife” he smiles and you nearly melt. You can’t help but lean up to kiss him.

“I think I’m the lucky one” you say softly and ever so quietly.

“Definitely not. I’m not needed for another few hours, shall we pop back to the hotel room? I think I might need to … change” he grins before pulling you back in for a kiss, taking your hand in his.

“I couldn’t agree more”

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[ofspvrta]

She longs for that kind of relaxation. Even with all that Roxana has done for her, it feels hard to relax. Her mind wouldn't let her, and none of it was for lack of effort on her lover's part. That kind of torment isn't going to get better overnight and she knows Roxana knows it too. But she's trying, and she's doing a wonderful job. At least Kassandra has stopped feeling that sinking fear that this is all a dream or a hallucination and she's still in her cell, her mind slowly eroding away with her body.

Her time in isolation taught her truly how long a year could feel. Every day was exactly the same, repeating endlessly. Even the novelty of watching people walk above her cell under the streets lost the appeal it once had. When the streets were empty she would do pull-ups from the grate that led to the street, but eventually, she grew too weak for that. The apparitions of the cultists her mind conjured had become a weird sort of comfort. Something she could fight while waiting for death. Swinging wildly at their ugly masks, all twisted in inhuman grins. A violent laugh tore from her lips any time she dispatched one of the hallucinations. Freedom feels strange now, but it no longer feels fleeting. That is what's important.

The silence hangs between them, but it doesn't feel heavy. For once something doesn't feel heavy. Nothing is expected of her. Kleon isn't leering by her cell expecting her to waste away and die, her crew isn't expecting her to lead them, nothing. For the moment she simply is. She exists, she is outside, and the sun shines down on her and blesses her skin. And Roxana, oh she is patient in the ways gods could never understand. At least with her. That smile sinks into her heart and Kassandra can't help but return a genuine smile back. Faint, but genuine.

"It is blue in ways it never was before." She pauses, raising a weak arm so her hand can cup Roxana's face. "And please, can you just say my name for a while. I miss hearing you say it. You, not the hallucination of you. Her voice never sounded quite right."

THERE IS NOTHING THAT WOULD BE NEARLY AS RELAXING AS LETTING THE WAVES WASH OVER TOES . honestly before kassandra , roxana never did much relaxing , or anything truly for herself. NOW SHE TENDS TO A SHIP AND READS ROLLS IN A HAMMOCK . or just trying to focus on whatever story barnabas is telling her. THAT MAN CAN TALK ... and she loses focus. she's always been more action than talk.

but this past year has been nothing but scouring for kassandra , kicking down doors , holding people at swordpoint. dragging cult supports across rocks. WHATEVER IT TOOK UNTIL THEY FOUND SOMETHING . barnabas was never the action guy , but he always did stand back to let roxana throw the punches. when you're loyal to someone. YOU'RE LOYAL TO SOMEONE . and kassandra has that whole ship in her hands.

IT'S THE WAY ROXANA DOESN'T ANSWER FOR A FEW SECONDS . maybe it was more like ... 30 seconds. there's even this subconscious step into kassandra , head tilting all the way upwards to continue to gaze into the taller woman's eyes. lips parting. ARMS REMAIN AT HER SIDES . now if those aren't the consistent movements of someone who just utterly trusts kassandra and yearns for a closeness. A SMILE ON HER LIPS , not just a quirk to the corner of her mouth. a smile.

" of course , champion. you should tell me how blue you think the sky is. "

[multifandomhellhole]

HEYYYY SO WHEN YOU SAY YOU WRITE FOR LEAGUE OF LEGENDS. DOES THAT INCLUDE ARCANE??? I ABSOLUTELY NWED SOME DUBCON IDEAS WITH VIKTOR CAUSE HE MAKES ME SUDDENLY FEEL THINGS

Ah HELLLOOO FELLOW VIKTOR ENJOYER!!!!

yes! I do also write for arcane!!!! I should probably tag that and update the post so people don't think im league exclusive hegefkfifk

Dubious consent warning and since this is dom reader we are the perpetrator. Nothing highly explicit till I see if I get crucified with mild.

I guess for dubcon he really is the most appealing aside from puppy boy Jayce who could be manipulated by a sunny afternoon breeze. Specifically 30 age range Viktor as that's when his ego took a plummet and so did his sharper walls and self assurance. Literally the two people that gave Viktor the time of day ended up being his endgame so that right off the bat tells you how susceptible Viktor is to tender love and care and most of all appreciation for his mind.

However this is a porn post and we will not be going into his genius but rather his pants.

I really think it'd be easy to be a perv with Viktor's belongings. Once he's focused on that HexCore it's basically free range to move about. Yes he's listening intently to his surroundings even when hyper focused as we see when he already heard sky come in, but he's not looking. You can do anything really at that point no matter what he thinks he hears. That can be from stealing pens, discarded notes, old cups he's drunk from, etc. I think you'd even get away with a bit of self gratification while viewing him from behind if you can be quiet. Even handing him contaminated things without him realizing as he could care less about the state of his tools that have had so many non organic residues on them before. Not like he can tell the difference without breaking his precious concentration. Not only that but he's hardly ever not in the lab so snooping around his room and other places he's been in is a breeze. Especially since you can hear him coming with the steel toe of his brace and his crutch on the floors and make a break for it. You might even make a break for it with a pair of boxers if you are that bold and want to upgrade to clothing. Just don't steal his crutch while he's awake 😭

We also see that Viktor is shockingly receptive with physical touch. Both from people he doesn't know that well, to people he does! He doesn't even show shock to some gestures when Jayce touches him which means that if someone is a frequent flyer in touching him, he grows used to it. I feel like that can be used in selfish ways to feel him up and even try and encourage sexual responses from him. I think it could be fun pushing how far his acceptance goes before he realizes your intentions. And I think it's just fun to slowly corrupt his brain into thinking thigh touches from you are okay in a professional setting and that ass grabs are just accidents. Plus he'd be lying if getting a spontaneous shoulder massage every now and then doesn't feel wonderful for his tension headaches. Even if your hands eventually linger on the screw heads in his spine or catch on his back and shoulder brace. Or even brush around to his neck and chest more than a few times. Especially if you play it off like he's the filthy one for responding that way, or offended he'd even think you'd take advantage of him, he won't dare get suspicious of you. just Hell he might even start returning it if you have a big enough friendly and positively welcoming energy. Even if he is initially uncomfortable/ repulsed about the whole thing, if done right and with just the right amount of feigned innocence he gradually will lose the apprehension. Time and patience is definitely a thing for conditioning Viktor where Jayce is practically pre-trained.

Anyways I think this is my first dubcon post so only two for now given I'm testing waters with what I like and how raunchy I'm willing to go! This is also my first arcane post so hi I better get a 'this is my first impression of you' comment.

[spideysbruh]

First Met

It was Florence's birthday. He noticed that she arrived alone, pretty and alone. 

She was pretty extroverted, she talked to everyone and made jokes with people she just met like she’d known them forever. 

She was enchanting, he couldn’t pull his eyes away from her the whole night but was too intimidated to approach her himself. And she’s probably taken.

After everyone sings happy birthday, Y/n hugs Florence and kisses her on the cheek before stepping away and getting a drink. Timothée slowly walks over to her, she’s facing the opposite way as she pours herself her drink and he tries to think of how to break the ice.

“So, you finally worked up the courage to come up and talk to me, huh?” She says as she turns around, smirking as she takes a sip from her drink.

Timothée nervously laughs as he steps closer to her, “You noticed, then.” He says, meeting her eyes and then quickly looking down.

“Of course I did.” She states simply, not looking away from him.

Timothée looks back up and takes another step closer, “I’m Timothée.” He introduces himself as he takes her hand, kissing the back of it softly.

Her cheeks redden as his lips press against her hand, “Y/n.” 

“Couldn’t help but notice you came alone, there’s no one waiting for you back home?” He asks, meeting her eyes as he puts her hand down. 

She smirks and shakes her head, “Nope, just my cat.” 

“Awesome! Well- not awesome, but- good! Cause- ahaha-” He nervously rambles until she cuts him off.

“I get it Timothée, it’s okay.” She giggles, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. He sighs and clears his throat. “Are you enjoying the party?”

He nods, rubbing his chin, “I’m enjoying it a lot more now.” He smiles.

They stay in the kitchen for a while, talking and getting to know each other until Florence comes and finds them. 

“Oh goody! You two have met finally, I’ve been wanting to set you up for ages!” she says and then pulls on each of their arms, “Come on! Get back into the party!”

Y/n looks over at Timothée and laughs and shrugs.

The three of them dance together to an upbeat song playing, Timothée was finding it harder and harder to not look at Y/n. She was so beautiful. and friendly. and charismatic. and-

“I'm gonna go talk with Saoirse really quickly, my loves!” Florence says and darts off, Y/n giggles at that. Timothée laughs and meets her eyes again.

“You're a way better dancers than I am!” He says, leaning in closer so she can hear him over the music.

She chuckles and shakes her head, “You just gotta get out of your head, Timothée. Just have fun!” She shrugs and spins around, making him laugh. 

“It's hard to do that when there's such a beautiful girl right in front of me.” He replies, making her smile. She stops dancing and steps closer, “You are beautiful.” He says softly.

“So are you.” She says, her eyes quickly flick down to his lips and then back up to his eyes.

Timothée smirks, “Can I kiss you?”

She nods, “Yes, please.” 

Timothées hands come up to hold her face as he leans in, softly pressing his hips against hers. She kisses him back, wrapping her arms around his neck as she slips her tongue between his lips.

Timothée chuckles into it as his tongue traces along hers, he can faintly taste the sweet lip gloss that she's wearing, and he loves it.

He finds it hard to pull away, but he eventually does, “I think that was the best kiss I've ever had.” 

Y/n smiles and looks around, no one really seems to care or notice. She sees Florence and Saoirse give her a thumbs up. She blushes and looks back up at Timothée. “I think so too.” She replies, “It's getting pretty late. I should go… I gotta walk home…” She says but doesn't move.

Timothée clears his throat and offers her his hand, “Can I walk you home?”

She nods and takes his hand, walking to the front door and grabbing her keys. They quickly say bye to Florence, who seemed very eager about them leaving.

“You don't mind? I'm about 15 minutes that way.” She wonders and nods her head towards her neighborhood as they walk down the steps, the night breeze hits her and goosebumps immediately appear on her skin. 

“Not at all. I'm that way, too.” He says before stopping to take off his jacket and placing it around her shoulders. She grins and slips her arms through, noticing how good it smells.

“Thank you.” She replies, “I should've bought a jacket.” She shakes her head as they start walking in the direction of her place.

“No, 'cause then I wouldn't have gotten you to wear mine.” He says, teasingly raising an eyebrow at her.

She giggles, “You're smooth.” 

“Only with you…. and only like… two hours after we initially met.” He jokes, Y/n laughs.

“You’re cute.”

The night is quiet, there are barely any clouds so a few stars are visible. Timothée asks her questions about herself and she eagerly answers them, reciprocating by returning the questions back to him.

They get to her place and she sighs as she slowly stops in front of the door, “This is me.”

Timothée looks at the front door and nods, “It’s nice, you don’t live too far from me which is a plus.” 

Y/n giggles and goes to take off his jacket and give it back to him, but he stops her.

“Keep it. I’ll get it when I come back.” He smiles, Y/n jokingly rolls her eyes.

“Sooooo smooth, Chalamet.” She says and he shrugs, his cheeks turning red at that.

He reaches for his phone and hands it to her, “Put your number in, I’ll text you.”

She smirks and types her number in, “You better.” 

“I definitely will. There’s not a world where I won’t text you.” He replies, making her smile, “Can I kiss you again?”

She answers him by going on her tippy toes to press their lips together once again. Timothée smiles into it and has to force himself to pull away.

“Text me when you get home.” She mumbles against his lips, going to walk up the steps. He nods and smiles as he makes sure she gets inside.

Y/n closes the door and sighs, blushing at the events that happened tonight, she giggles and heads to her room. She changes into her pajamas, pets her cat, and gets into bed when her phone dings.

Timothée- Soooo are you busy tomorrow?

She chuckles and types out a response.

Y/n- Nope…. what are we doing? 

*

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Little Darling

Chapter 11 - The mirror is a trap that saves

It's 1997, and Elvis is still alive and well. He quit music in 1972 after a successful world tour, and now he runs Presley Studios - teaching people karate across America. His daughter and grandchildren are regular visitors at Graceland, and when he’s in Memphis he likes to do a little teaching. His life is quieter now, though. Most of the Mafia have gone - going to live their own lives - and after his divorce from his second wife, Elvis is sworn off women for good. Will a Welsh girl with a wicked sense of humour be the one to make him break his promise to himself not to fall in love again?

Need to catch up? Go here.

Pairing: Old Man!Elvis x OC - Tegan, a Welsh girl he meets at karate.

Word count: 3.2K

TWs: Elvis is a little dominant, use of daddy in a sexual context, bit of dollification, objectification if you squint, possessive kink, praise kink, p in v sex.

It's Christmas eve, and Elvis scratches his bearded chin as he walks arm in arm with Tegan and their dog through the snowy park. He's grown a beard to make it easier for him to dress up as Santa for the grandkids, but he started too late and it's itchy. Tegan told him that the itchy stage would finish soon (her ex had a beard) but he's preoccupied by how annoying it is right now. The dog is a chow cross that they chose together at a rescue centre, as soon as Elvis found out that Tegan loved dogs as much as him. She made the mistake of telling him about the Welsh language band Ffa Coffi Pawb - literally meaning “everyone's coffee beans”, but pronounced fah-koff-ee pow-b which made it sound a lot like fuck off everyone, in a combination of Welsh and English - Wenglish - and he decided that was the perfect name for their new furry friend. In the end he went for Ffa Coffi, which Tegan thinks doesn't really work as a pun, but Elvis enjoys saying regardless. Tegan also doesn't think a dog can be called Coffee Beans (bean would be fine, but the plural just seems crazy) but mostly they just shout “COFFI!” which works in either language. The most important thing is that Coffi is laid back and will barely chase after a ball, never mind other people's pets. And he puts up with Tegan cuddling him all the time without ever trying to lick her face. Sometimes when Elvis sees them curled up on the sofa together he wonders if he will ever get a look in. 

The beard and the fact that he’s wrapped up for the cold mean that barely anyone recognises Elvis, and so they’ve come out without any kind of back up. Elvis feels more and more comfortable doing that nowadays, happy to just walk around with Tegan and Coffi. They don’t see the paps often in the cold, and when they do they just do their best to ignore them. As they make their way through the snow, he’s reminded of the day at the zoo, when they definitely did have to have back up. 

“Hey, I bet if we went ta the zoo today no-one would bother us.”

Tegan snorts. “And all the animals would probably be indoors by the fire with a cocoa.”

“Cocoa?”

“Oh, hot chocolate.”

“Ah.”

They carry on for a while in silence, then Elvis pipes up again. 

“I’m sorry about that day, honey. Ya didn’t deserve bein’ dragged through the press like ya were.”

Her smile is slight as she remembers the horrible events of the day after. “Neither did you.”

Stopping, he turns to her and looks into her face seriously. “Ya didn’t deserve the way I treated ya, either.”

Her eyes dart around, awkwardly, and she eventually settles on looking down at Coffi. “Well, that was a while ago, now, ‘raur. Things have been much better since then.”

Taking his hands out of his pockets, he reaches for hers to hold them. The dog lead slips onto her wrist and Coffi sits down between them, looking up patiently. 

“Ya know yer beautiful, right?”

She frowns a little, still looking at the dog. “I’m not sure what that’s got to do with… before.”

He steps towards her and the dog whines a little at being hemmed in between them. 

“Will ya look at me, pretty girl?”

Her nose wrinkles and she looks up cautiously. “We’ve been through this, ‘raur. I’m almost 40 years old.”

“Alright then. Look at me when I’m talking to ya, woman.”

There’s a trace of a smile on her face as he moves his hand to her cheek and pulls her towards him, making her stagger forwards for balance as he crashes his lips against hers. 

“Mmm. ‘Raur,” she chides, a blush rising on her face as he pulls back. 

“Can’t get ya ta listen otherwise, can I?” He grumbles, letting out a low whistle and shaking his head. “Now I’ve got yer attention, will ya answer me?”

“About what?”

Elvis growls deep in his throat, making Coffi yelp in surprise. “I want ya ta tell me yer beautiful.”

“Elvis…”

“No.” The word is sharp and the force of it makes her tremble. “Don’t Elvis me. Tell me what I want ta hear.”

“I guess I look better now I've had my hair and nails done…”

Nudging the dog out of the way with his foot, Elvis closes the gap between them and puts his lips to Tegan’s ear.

“Well if yer not gonna tell me now I'll haveta fuck it outta ya later.” His voice is low and gravelly and she trembles again at the pitch and the force of the words. She can feel a blush rising on her cheeks and finds her thighs rubbing together almost of their own accord. “Hm?” He prompts, not moving his mouth from her ear. 

“Yes, Daddy,” she whispers back. 

He's half-tempted to reply “yes, Daddy, what?” but he decides not to push it outdoors, and responds with a quick “good” instead. He steps back and takes the dog lead off Tegan, gently tugging Coffi towards him. 

“Time ta head back.”

They turn and walk back towards the car, Tegan’s stomach flipping as the words he’d just said run through her mind over and over again. As well as the consistent erections, the pills had given Elvis a little more confidence, but he’d never said anything like that outside of the bedroom, let alone outside of the house. On the drive home they make small talk about when they’re going to put out the presents, and what they’ve bought for other people, but Tegan’s brain keeps short-circuiting to him telling her he’s going to fuck it out of her. She watches him carry on doing normal, everyday things when they’re back at Graceland. Feeding the dog, making coffee. 

“Elvis?”

“Yes, baby.”

“Can I have a kiss?”

He moves to put his arms around her, pulling her in close. “Of course ya can.”

His lips are soft and the kiss is gentle. Tegan feels herself relax. She smiles as he pulls back. 

“Thanks.”

He chuckles softly. “Mmm. No problem.” Stroking her cheek, he continues, “you lookin’ forward to dressin’ up as Mrs Claus later? Puttin’ on that little outfit I bought ya?”

She looks at his expression for a moment and then shakes her head a little. “It’s obscene, isn’t it?”

He pretends to look offended. “Obscene? Somethin’ I bought fer ya?” When she carries on staring at him with one raised eyebrow he relents. “Okay, yeah, so it’s a little short. Gotta show off my girl’s legs though, haven’t I?”

“To who?!”

“Ah. Okay, ya got me there.” He ponders the question for a moment. “Alright. It’s self-gratification. Jus’ wanna see ‘em myself.”

She keeps shaking her head but they’re both giggling and then they’re kissing again. Tegan hears someone clearing their throat and pulls back quickly. 

“Sorry to interrupt you lovebirds, but I’ve got two kids demanding lunch.” Lisa-Marie smiles at them both. 

“Chefs are on their way in,” Elvis explains, looking at his watch. “Ten minutes or so an’ then they’ll be makin’ somethin’. Kids’ll have ta be patient.”

The impatient children appear as if they’ve been summoned by the conversation, and Elvis suggests they all go down to the den and hang out there instead. Ben follows his sister, explaining some comic book or other that he’s been reading to her in painstaking detail, whilst she pulls the most bored face Tegan thinks she’s ever seen. Elvis settles into an armchair and pulls his girlfriend into his lap. One arm rests around her waist whilst his other hand brushes her hair away from her neck to give him easy access to press kisses to it every so often. He always seems to know when she needs reassurance. 

“You two are so sweet together,” Lisa remarks. 

“Ah, I’m lucky she puts up with me,” Elvis replies, his fingers combing through Tegan’s hair. “She’s got the patience of a saint.”

“Don’t talk about me as though I’m not here,” Tegan complains. 

Lisa starts saying something about him being a pain in the ass, but Tegan can barely hear it because his lips are next to her ear again, murmuring, “think ya like it when I do that, honey.” Her pussy tingles at the words and she swallows, thickly. Managing after what seems like minutes to tune back into the conversation, only to hear Elvis saying,

“She’s way too good fer me, and far too pretty.”

The tingling between her legs intensifies. She does like it. She likes it way too much. Fuck. She tries to calm down as she hears Lisa ask her a question to draw her back into the conversation. 

“Oh well, I mean he is better than me at karate, I suppose…”

They bounce back and forth and she starts to feel herself relax. But Elvis had felt the way she’d tensed and seen the blush on her face. He certainly hasn’t lost his touch, when it comes to knowing what women like, he thinks. Not at all. 

***

Tegan looks at herself in the mirror, turning to the side and tugging at the hem of her dress a little. She’d been right when she accused Elvis of buying her an obscene costume - it only just covers her ass. At least it’s not skin tight, she muses. But there’s no way she’s bending over in it in the best of the house. She pulls the santa hat onto her head and laughs at her reflection. If someone had told her a year ago that she’d be in one of the bedrooms in Graceland, wearing a skimpy Mrs Claus outfit and getting ready to arrange presents underneath the Christmas tree (a task that was now definitely seeming impossible to do without flashing someone) she’d have laughed them out of town. And yet, here she is.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the appearance of Elvis in his own Santa costume. She turns and runs daintily towards him, the red sparkly heels he’d bought her slowing her down a little. Throwing her arms around his neck she grins as his hands grip her lower back. 

“You look very handsome as Father Christmas.”

He chuckles. “I look like an old man in a Santa costume, honey.”

“You look handsome,” she tells him firmly, and he leans down to kiss her with a smile. 

“Father Christmas,” he teases, doing a bad impression of her accent. 

She sniggers. “Daddy Christmas.”

His hand reaches down to squeeze her ass. “Yeah, ya can call me that if ya want.”

They both giggle a little before he insists on looking at her properly in her outfit, twirling her around and making approving noises. 

“You’ve outdone yourself here, Presley,” he says, to himself. 

She can’t help smiling, despite the ridiculousness of the situation. He lets out a sharp breath and then shakes his head quickly as if to dispel the dirty thoughts. 

“Right, let’s get these gifts done.” 

He gives her a quick slap on the ass and she squeals. “Elvis!”

“Thought it was Daddy Christmas,” he replies, one eyebrow raised and a little smile playing on his lips. 

“You are incorrigible.”

“You are incorrigible, Daddy Christmas.”

Tegan doubles over laughing at that, which Elvis particularly enjoys given the length of her skirt and the lacey panties he’d bought her to wear with her outfit. 

“I swear these pills have made you worse.”

“Ya won’t learn, will ya? Call me by my name or I’ll have to put ya over my knee and we’ll never get these gifts done.”

Managing eventually to keep a straight face, she puts her arms back around his neck and looks up into his face. 

“Sorry, Daddy Christmas,” she coos. “I promise I’ll be a good girl. I don’t want to miss out on my presents.”

“I’ll definitely be givin’ ya somethin’ later if yer good,” he teases back. 

After more giggling, nose scrunching and forehead kisses, they eventually untangle themselves and head downstairs to arrange the presents, fetching them from outside of bedroom doors and piling them up underneath the tree. They fill the kids’ stockings and Elvis eats the cookie left out for Santa, leaving the glass of sherry to Tegan, since she’d insisted on it. Much to her relief, no-one comes out to see them at work so she doesn’t have to worry about her modesty too much. It’s still good to be in Elvis’ room afterwards, especially when he tells her he has some gifts to give her now. 

“Don’t think this is somethin’ everyone needs ta see,” he explains, handing her a beautifully wrapped package. “An’ the other one,” he gestures at the box next to her on the bed, “is somethin’ I want ya wearin’ tomorrow.”

“Which one first?”

He taps the package in her hand. “That one.”

She unwraps it carefully, then immediately bursts out laughing. It’s not just one present - it’s a set of three pairs of panties with ELVIS embroidered on the back in silver script. 

“Oh my God! Did you have these made?!”

He nods, grinning a little bashfully. “Thought you might like ‘em. Ya can wear a pair tomorrow under that dress I bought ya.”

Elvis had bought her yet another gold dress, which he somehow hadn’t classed as a Christmas present, having given it to her earlier in the week. She thinks she ought to be overwhelmed by all the presents, and she’s certainly nervous to see his reaction to what she’s bought him, but every time he produces another one she’s filled with a kind of warm joy. He loves giving and she loves receiving. They’re a match made in heaven. 

She smirks and once she’s finished looking at the panties she reaches for the next present. Under the wrapping paper is a beautiful velvet box, and inside the box is… 

“Oh ‘raur!!” She exclaims, very carefully lifting the tiara out of the box. It’s gold and covered in diamonds and she hates to think how much money it must have cost. “Oh cariad, it’s beautiful.” 

“Put it on, honey.”

She pushes the santa hat off her head as she gets up and walks over to the full-length mirror. Carefully replacing the hat with the tiara, she fiddles with her hair and turns her head from side to side, looking at the stones sparkling in the light. Elvis comes up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist and pressing a kiss to her temple. 

“My beautiful Queenie.”

She blushes and looks down. “Oh ‘raur. It’s too much.”

“Uh-uh. Nothin’ too much f’my Queenie.”

“Thank you. I love it.”

He kisses her cheek this time and his eyes lock with hers in the mirror. “Let’s see ya in it and those panties, then.”

She spins around in his arms, her arms reaching around his neck. “Am I just some kind of naughty fashion show for you?”

“Yep,” he replies, patting her ass. “Off ya go now. Do as yer told.”

Part of her can’t believe she’s just going along with this, going into the en suite to take her dress and underwear off, and put the new panties on. She hadn’t thought that being with Elvis would be like being his little doll sometimes, and she also hadn’t thought that she’d like it so much. She opens the door slowly, then steps back into the bedroom. Elvis is still fully-clothed, sitting on his bed waiting for her. As soon as he spots her, looking a little shy only a few steps into the room, he beckons her over. 

“C’mere. That’s it. Spin round fer me. Mmmm. Lookin’ good, Tegan bach.”

Once she’s finished with being paraded around in a circle for the second time that evening, Tegan gets onto Elvis’ lap. She much prefers being close to him like this to being made to strut about like a catwalk model, and she presses herself up against him, enjoying the feeling of her naked skin against his soft, almost furry suit. His hands rub up and down her back, kissing her deeply as she rolls her hips against him. 

“Ya gonna tell me what I want ta hear yet?” He murmurs in her ear. 

“Mmm. No. Think you promised something about fucking it out of me.”

He hums and pulls his belt off, before reaching into the pants of his suit and pulling his dick out. “Sit on it fer me, honey.”

She moves to take her panties off and one of his hands grips her arm. He shakes his head. “Keep ‘em on. Jus’ move ‘em to the side.”

Moaning, she slowly eases him inside her until she’s full, sitting on his lap, her head against his shoulder, panting. 

“Good girl. Want ya ta remember who ya belong to.”

“I couldn’t…forget… Elvis.”

“Mmmm. Yer all mine.”

She tries to steady her breathing, still leaning heavily against him. 

“Okay, baby?” He asks, softly, when she still doesn’t move. 

“Mmm. Yes. Fuck.”

“This enough fer ya?”

She smiles against him. “I was promised a fuck.”

He smiles back, thinking how much he loves her in this moment. His hands move to grip her hips and he uses them to move her, slowly at first and then gathering pace. The tiara slips and she quickly removes it, setting it safely on the bedside table. 

“Now?” He asks, pulling her up and slamming her back down on him, hard. 

She whines. “I… oh… fuck…”

“That’s not it, honey.”

“I… oh, fine! I’m beautiful! I’m… fuck…” she forces the words out and at around the same time her orgasm hits her with the force of a speeding truck. 

“Yes ya fuckin’ are,” he replies, through gritted teeth as he feels her squeezing him. His hips buck a few times and then he’s cumming inside her too. 

She falls down against him like a ragdoll, puffing and panting. Once he's managed to get his santa suit off he pulls her back into his arms. They lie together for a while, basking in the glow of their orgasms. Tegan starts to think about the next day, and who will be arriving when, her brain lazily trying to figure out logistics. They chat about it for a while, Elvis reassuring her that she doesn’t have to worry, he’s already planned it all.

“So that’s everyone, I think.”

“Sure you haven’t missed anyone?”

“Oh, yeah. Jerry will be comin’. On his own, though. Wife left ‘im. Thought he might want company.”

“Who’s Jerry?”

“Friend a mine from before. Lives in LA now. Pretty boy, ‘bout seven years younger ‘an me.”

“You didn’t say.”

“Musta forgot, honey. Ya’ll like ‘im. Everyone likes Jerry.”

“Did you tell him about me?”

“‘Course I did, honey. He’s lookin’ forward ta meetin’ ya.”

Tegan thinks she’s looking forward to meeting him too, for some reason she can’t quite define. They carry on talking until Elvis starts to drift off, and so Tegan extracts herself from his arms and gets more comfortable. Imagining Graceland on Christmas morning, bustling with life and joy until she falls asleep too. 

***

Taglist:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley @dkayfixates @iloveelvisss @kxnnxy

[stupidlittlespirit]

OKAY BUT SCP FOUNDATION FORD. I feel like young Ford would be absolutely GIDDY to join an organization that he thinks shares his world views and mission- scientifically classifying and studying anomalies. But he would absolutely get fired for being WAY too fucking weird about like everything. He gets too personally invested and obsessed for their liking imo.

I can also see young Ford being weird about anomalous people, who he'd identify with. That's like a thesis in itself, really.

Either way, Ford would get fired and then have a lifelong grudge against them lol

Old Ford would get fired for his general "I know more than you" vibe and be convinced that they fired him out of insecurity.

Dying to hear what head cannons you have for SCP Foundation and Ford 💞

Okay so I have spent way too long thinking about this because I actually wanted to write a fic about it and I’m very devoted to the whole concept in general, so this all applies to the Ford-SCP AU I have in my brain.

I’m so fond of the series. I was often on /x/ as a kid (not the rest of 4chan because, duh) and I would spend hours on it, reading up on greentexts and believing every single fucking word. I desperately wanted to work for the shadowy American governmental orgs that kept these creatures in containment/a secret, and I was devastated when I grew up and found out that they weren’t real. (A part of me holds out hope that they are a real organisation but if America was covering shit up, we’d know because they fucking suck at keeping stuff on the DL).  

Anyway, let’s get into it, and remember that I’m playing fast and loose with everything SCP related because everything is canon and therefore nothing is canon! 

Below is everything from my AU ideas to Ford’s behaviour to fucking SCP/Ford ships because fuck it why not:

I think you’re right: young, starry eyed Ford would be psyched to get to see that kind of thing, but I do think that he’d be too focused on carving out his own path to allow himself to get wrapped up in the government’s red tape. It would be something he enthusiastically pencils into his diary and intends to follow up on, but never does because of how things unfold. 

Post-Portal Ford, however, is going to be The Guy for them. His personal intellect is attractive enough, but Ford has a lot of stuff going for him on top: he’s travelled interdimensionally, he’s spent time in places that would get even 05 Council Members to sit up and take notes, he’s had talks with beings that the Foundation would give their child’s left kidney to be privy to (not that they wouldn’t sell their kid for a bag of magic beans anyway but whatever) and he’s got more than enough knowledge to hit the ground running with minimal (perceived) liability for them. I mean, Bill alone has to be a Keter / Apollyon type object, surely? World ending scenario and all that. 

I think he would still be very personally invested and enthusiastic at that age, too. He would do better at trying to be aware of himself because he’s more conscious of being taken advantage of, but he wouldn’t be able to help himself when it came to just being a total nerd about it all. 

How does Ford get picked up by the Foundation?

He’d be recruited thanks to his extensive publishing on the weird and wonderful stuff within Gravity Falls (which at some point is also catergorised by the Foundation themselves) and his travels with Stan, and he would be head hunted to work for the Foundation. 

And he’d say no at first, because he’s not going to work for the government, what are you, insane?! He would want nothing to do with them, and Stan, equally, would be wary of them because nothing good ever comes from the Feds, right?  But the Foundation would be persistent and they’d give Ford appetising incentives (funding, support, tools etc) for his own research, so he’d eventually give them an inch because he'd grow to wonder what they might have on offer and they’d then introduce themselves. 

Ford would be wary but as we all know, he’s a curious cat and it doesn’t matter how many times he gets run over, he still wants to know what’s on the other side of the road even if it means weaving between cars with a blindfold on. 

Ford is obviously going to have a vested interest in the anomalies because of his own abnormalities, however I do think he’d be laughed at for even considering himself a ‘freak’ because… well…. Take a look at the guys we’re dealing with here and then say ‘having six fingers makes you weird’ with a straight face. 

Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be empathised with by some of them, even by some of the staff, but some of the beings in the SCP universe are so extreme that having six fingers is an easily-overlookable trait. I mean, the reactions would range from “okay, and….?” to “good lord, get a grip, there are real problems out there in the world, man!” to “oh my god that’s cool, he’s just like me fr”. 

Ford would quickly learn that whatever research he’s done/is doing is really nothing in comparison to what the Foundation does. Not that his work is of less value or anything, just that the Foundation is so large and the breadth and scale of their work would be unbelievable to him. He’d still think he knew best in a lot of ways but he’d be willing to listen and learn from the researchers and scientists that he did admire.

However, Ford would definitely manage to piss off every other person on the site he gets contracted to LMAO. Except the scientists he respected, though perhaps even them sometimes. Oh, and the nicer/less serious D-Class personnel, because they’d often remind him of Stanley and he’d be rather grossed out by the process of sacrificing those lesser prisoners to creatures in the name of governmental gain, so he would make an effort to be patient with them where he can. 

Not to mention that he’d kick AWF if he found out how loosey goosey the regulations are around picking prisoners for testing…. We know the Foundation has a habit of taking anyone with a life sentence/death row conviction, but we also know that not every convict is guilty. On top of that, we know they’ll take literally anyone if they really need to get some tests done and they don’t really give a fuck what the D-Class has done. I mean, they’ll take civilians too, so. I don’t think Ford would be okay with that. 

If they’re actually just awful people then he’s not likely going to care as much of course, but sometimes I read/listen to reports with D-Class in them that have just sold drugs or something, and the researcher’s are like yeah fuck it put weed-dealer Greg in the box with the mutated crocodile made out of poisonous spikes and shake it really hard, it’ll be funny! I think that would upset Ford and he wouldn’t be afraid to kick off about it (after all, any of those D’s could have been his brother at one point, right?) 

Staff members:

In terms of working with specific staff members, he’s obviously not going to have much to do with MTF or even any of the agents etc, really. Not unless he would require specific information from them during a test or something. There could be crossover if he was to get pissed off at how poorly executed a field expedition went or something, but I expect that his main area of interaction would revolve around Researchers and Objects themselves. 

Let’s talk about my beloved Dr Bright. I think Ford would have a careful appreciation for Bright. As we know, Bright is a bit nuts. He’s very eccentric and volatile, but very intelligent and good at his job as well as being personally afflicted, what with his brother’s objecti-fication within the facility. Ford would recognise Bright’s appreciation for suicide (bless him, real recognises real) given all of his own personal issues and understand why Bright might be so difficult.  

I do, however, think Ford would also be exceptionally wary of Dr Bright, given the way he’s bound to SCP-963. If you don’t know, 963 is a medallion/necklace and if you wear it you’re immortal. However, it’s tied to Bright and if another person wears it, their mind is basically wiped and replaced with Dr Bright’s. So, it would be very close to possession and for Ford, that would be very triggering, I think. Ford would be amenable with Bright and even appreciative of his work, but he’d be too nervous about 963, even if the likelihood of him being made to wear it was low. 

Next up is another fav: Dr Alto Clef. Now, I think Ford would have a love-hate relationship with Clef. 

Clef is reeeeally smart and very talented. He’s also very eccentric and weird, and is also anomalous himself, so Ford can get behind that. But Clef is also a fucking nightmare. He lies and is gross and unethical (was an awful misogynist, but possibly isn’t anymore? Hard to know for sure because there’s a LOT of information out there and no hard canon), though I don’t think he’s an irredeemable guy. Most notably, Clef has what he refers to as a ‘deformity’. He underwent anomalous alterations that prevent his face from being photographed and gave him resistance to reality shifts. Clef is described in files but you just can’t ever see a photograph of his face.   

Though I think Ford would tire of Clef quite quickly, he’d be willing to give Clef more rope than Bright. I think Clef has a tendency to be kind of jammy and very funny, so I daresay Ford might be fonder of him than he’d let on and he wouldn’t feel as uncomfortable around him as he might with Bright’s 963 issue. Clef is also aroace! Yay!

Clef lies a lot though, so he might be more inclined to kick it with Stan than with Ford in terms of down time lol 

Onto Everett Mann. Dr Mann is said to have always felt like an outcast and he was also manipulated by an entity (Mr Lie) into doing something that put others at significant risk. I think he and Ford would have a kinship with that and they’d be friends. Technically, Clef killed Mann in one AU but whatever. No big deal. I think Mann is really funny and sweet, and he’d get on quite well with Ford. 

Honourable mentions for: 

Dr Elliott - known to be a too involved in the anomalies she works on and often gets fucked up by them because of it.  

Dr Glass, because obviously. We love Dr Glass in this house! I think Ford would always be wary around a psych professional but he’d be thrilled to hear about other SCP’s and understand their ways of thinking. I think Glass would also have a field day with Ford and he’d fill up at least 4 notebooks worth of psych-eval notes on him :) 

And there are more but there are SO many more that I can’t get all of them down here or I’ll be sitting at my PC forever. 

In terms of the actual anomalies that Ford becomes fond of:

Well, we have to start off with my absolute all-time favourite: SCP-507.

I highly recommend checking out Volgun’s video on him because it’s great. Frankly, all of Volgun’s videos are great if you’re interested in learning about SCP’s in a lore accurate way. 

SCP 507 is Ford’s special little guy. Ford LOVES him. Do I ship them? Kinda. That’s my business okay don’t judge me. 

In fact, I believe Ford likes him so strongly that I think when 507 requests a hug from personnel, following a traumatic shift, Ford is the one who grants it to him. I don’t care if the timelines don’t match up, I don’t care about anything that makes that impossible. I want 507 to get a hug and I think Ford gives great hugs. Ford would even volunteer to be his escort if he had the time to spare and I think he’d let 507 hang out in his lab sometimes. 

507 has always broken my heart because he’s so scared and so alone, and they won’t let him leave or really do much of anything. He really has nobody and he has 0 control over everything in his life, and I think that would resonate with Ford a lot. 

He’d be highly interested in SCP-2700 because it’s made by his All Time Fav hot scientist Nikola Tesla. While 2700 isn’t humanoid, I think Ford would be super geeked about it solely because it’s Tesla based haha.

I think Ford would also love SCP-1762 (aka ‘Where the dragons went’), too. I find 1762 to be a really sad story and I think others agree, and Ford would enjoy them. They’re cool (origami dragons fuck yeah) and cute, but also poignant. 

He’d be naturally curious about SCP-096 but obviously, due to its nature, would have to give up the ghost on that one. 

I think Stan would like SCP-1472 aka the Multiverse Strip Club. Naturally. He’d be at risk of wandering in but, respectfully, he ain’t going to Illinois. Not for all the strippers in the world. 

Like Researchers and other personnel, there are SO many SCP’s that I can’t even remember all of the ones I think would be most relevant/enjoyable for Ford so if you have something you think he’d like then please please hit me up because I’d love to talk about it with you!! 

Ultimately, I think Ford would do some great work and make friends with some of the more pleasant scientists, and he would really enjoy himself up until he stopped enjoying himself lol. I think he’d quickly realise how controlling the Foundation is and how they refuse to let anomalies be known to the public, rightly or wrongly, and Ford would refuse to play along with them. 

He’d be vocal about his disagreement with the treatment of some anomalies and with regard to the treatment of personnel, and he’d stand strongly against any corruption, which means he’d never see eye to eye with them. Many such cases, if you take the time to read the entries. 

So, they’d fire him or he’d walk out. You’d never know for sure because Ford would insist he left of his own accord and the Foundation would insist that they [REDACTED] so… It would be a mystery. 

And the Foundation would let him leave, by the way. Their knee jerk reaction would be to terminate him, of course, but he’d leave such an impression on some of the other scientists that they’d somehow manage to convince their higher-ups that Ford offered value that would be lost upon his death, so they should let him live and just try to monitor him instead. 

Ford, being Ford, would sniff out all the monitors every single time they tried to trace him and Stan (with his great knowledge of wire taps) would help him debug their house etc if they needed to. 

Eventually, the Foundation would say fuck it, this guy is annoying as fuck, and let Ford deal with his own containment specialisms while keeping a distant eye on him/Gravity Falls at large. 

….Can you tell this has been on my mind for a while? LMAO I’m so sorry this answer got sooooo out of hand but I love GF and SCP so much that I can’t help myself. I hope that as I get better at drawing I can make some crossover art for them because it would be too cute. Plus, like I said, I’m still considering writing this. I might make a reader one but also do a gen crossover because I think it would be a riot. 

If anyone else wants to make stuff on this then please do but pleeeeease tag me because I need to inject it straight into my veins. 

[vaguelyaperson]

the more i think about it, the more i like that izuku becomes a teacher as a quirkless adult, and that he supposedly never takes on full-time hero work

... it just wouldn't feel like such an odd ending if it wasn't such a sharp turn from the themes of the story.

it would beat a dead horse to get into such themes: the insistence that izuku could be a [pro] hero too, save to win win to save (implication of bkdk as hero duo), go beyond to achieve your dreams, ect. others have commented on this eloquently enough. i want to contemplate how 430/431 are a valid ending... if the story matched the conclusion.

bnha has themes that could've been developed to make 430/431 make more sense. there's the excellent theme that average citizens can be heroes through 'mundane' actions, and a suggestion that an ideal future would be one where heroes have too much free time (ie, pro heroes overall would be a defunded profession). i personally adore these themes, and was disappointed that the ending didn't explore more of what a better quirk culture should look like beyond 'uraraka reforms quirk education classes.' those themes (plus the commentary on villains) suggested an eventual overhaul of the current quirk culture - which we didn't get. which sucks. because these themes, properly developed, would make PERFECT sense of a protagonist who decides to be an 'average citizen.'

yet these ideas weren't quite attributed to izuku's character. he's the protagonist. he was set up for the big flashy future, right? which is why it feels like such a sudden slap to so many fans that he was supposedly content working as a teacher for eight years, that he wouldn't jump at the opportunity to become a full time hero.

now, a good bit of this can be attributed to story medium. bnha was skewed in the beginning to function as a standard shounen (boy has powers, boy works hard, boy achieves big dreams), and that it wasn't until about the last hundred chapters or so that horikoshi dug his heels in about writing the story he wants to write. so clearly if the story's endgoal changed in his mind (which stories often do, and manga is extremely restrictive in that an author can't rewrite the full story to make the plot consistent), then he only had so much leeway to lead to the eventual ending of a quirkless citizen izuku without taking the hardest turn from the standard shounen tone at the beginning.

but even then. even then, that's about a hundred chapters that bnha could've introduced the idea that IZUKU could be a hero in ways unrelated to professional heroism. that it's so unhealthy for this kid to sacrifice so much of himself that it would actually be better for him to pursue a different career.* or that it was even a valid career path for someone who initially dreamed of being a pro hero.

like, take lemillion; izuku's literal mirror. the story could've kept togata functionally quirkless, could've explored the full grief of such a big dream lost, could've explored the sheer injustice that this KID was put on the front-line and thus his quirk and dream were snatched from him... and then introduced a way that togata could use his skills to help people in a different career.

or take all might; izuku's mentor and cautionary tale. maybe have all might talk to izuku about grappling with being quirkless again. maybe have him find who he is beyond being of service to others (which is clearly these two born-quirkless fuckers dealing with massive self-worth issues, trying to justify their existence with heroics), and find relief in that. maybe have him wonder aloud if it might have been better for him to choose such a profession outright from the beginning, rather than repeatedly almost DIE as a pro-hero. maybe have the two revisit that conversation from the first episode, that being a [quirkless] hero IS dangerous, but that there is genuine fulfillment in other work - as all might has found in teaching.

then when it happens to izuku, it wouldn't be such a shock to the audience. and even if we don't see him change over those eight years of the epilogue, it wouldn't be such a shock that he turns down full-time hero work. we'd get it.

*because continuing off this point: the story very much established that izuku CAN'T be trusted 'unsupervised' as a pro hero. that ofa is almost a curse. how many fuckin fanworks reference an adult izuku who never stops putting himself into harms way, who keeps nearly fuckin dying (or does die) cause he never thinks of himself? the story could've EASILY built on this to the point that it would feel like a blessing that izuku loses ofa and can't become a pro-hero.

(instead of it being played in this.... extremely weird.... grieved not grieved, katsuki's sobbing but izuku 'started out quirkless' so it's fine??? like??? the tone??? is in shambles???)

instead, the story said "you don't have to fight alone, izuku, cause your friends are here." most especially that katsuki inserted himself as izuku's primary protector and competitor. that katsuki developed a whole ass power-up that could MATCH ALL FOR ONE'S power, that he CAUGHT UP to izuku as a hero. at large, class a showed the fuck up, more than once, to throw down on izuku's behalf. the story said, yes izuku is recklessly selfless, and ofa only exasperates this, but his friends are so determined to work hard to make sure there's always someone at his back. this will be the new generation of heroes.

... which... should've led to a completely different story conclusion. one that would've been just as valid as 'izuku finds more stability and meaning in being a teacher.' it would just need to be an ending that would have fit the established themes. i would've loved that ending too.

in conclusion! there's more to being a hero than flashy heroic acts. izuku is a selfless maniac who's probably safer in the classroom tbh. manga is a restrictive medium that can't be rewritten into a more consistent plot. nevertheless, given the amount of chapters horikoshi had to play with the story he wanted to tell, there was time to develop pre-existing themes that would better anticipate the conclusion we got. 430 and gods 431 especially - despite being arguably a valid ending for the characters - didn't have to feel like such sharp left turns.

... and despite learning to appreciate izuku turning down katsuki's agency offer, i still don't like 431. lmao

[wren-of-the-woods]

Spend My Days So Close To You

In which Jaskier brings home surprise kittens and Geralt is fondly exasperated.

This is a little surprise Christmas present for @bambirex, because she's awesome! Enjoy 1.2k of sappy Geraskier fluff <3 Also on AO3 here!

“Geralt,” says Jaskier’s voice over the phone, slightly muffled by distance from the speaker and background noise, “I may have done something rash.”

Geralt resists the urge to let his head thunk down onto the table. He had been wondering where his husband was, but had hoped he had only been delayed by a sudden burst of musical inspiration in a coffee shop and not by some new ridiculous plight. Geralt’s day at work had been long and he did not want to rescue his husband tonight.

“What did you do?” he asks wearily.

On the other side of the line, there is a brief pause. 

“I think it’ll be easier to just show you,” says Jaskier eventually. “Can you clean off the bathroom floor for me? I’ll be back in fifteen minutes or so.”

Geralt sighs loudly, but he knows better than to argue with Jaskier over the phone like this. 

“Okay,” he says, “But you’re cleaning up whatever mess this causes.”

“Of course,” says Jaskier, though they both know that Geralt will inevitably help him anyway. “See you soon, dear heart.” 

Geralt went to clean up the bathroom. The time went quickly, and soon enough he heard the front door opening and Jaskier walking in. His footsteps were heavy like when he came in from getting groceries — he must be holding something bulky. Geralt went to meet him. Despite himself, he was a little interested to see whatever Jaskier had managed to do. 

“Geralt!” said Jaskier happily when he caught sight of Geralt. His hair was ruffled from the breeze outside, and his cheeks were pink. He was a little bit adorable. The sight distracted Geralt enough that he did not immediately notice the box in Jaskier’s arms. 

“Mew,” said the box, and Geralt’s attention abruptly shifted to its contents.

“Jaskier,” he said, very slowly, “Why do you have kittens?”

Inside the box were two kittens. One was entirely black and the other was a grey tabby. They looked old enough to be adopted, but only by a few weeks at most. 

“I can explain?” said Jaskier. Geralt rather thought that phrase should not sound like a question, but Jaskier was continuing before he had a chance to point them out. 

“Listen, someone had found them abandoned on the side of a road and she couldn’t keep them because her landlord wouldn’t allow pets and she couldn’t find anyone willing to take them and she looked so tired and they looked so cold and I swear we would just be fostering them, Geralt, it wouldn’t be a long-term commitment, but I couldn’t just leave them there.” 

Jaskier had been talking so fast that he had to take a moment to breathe when he finished, staring at Geralt with wide and hopeful eyes. Geralt was fairly sure he had learned that expression from Ciri when she had been a child. Geralt looked back down at the kittens. One of them was staring up at him with equally wide and adorable eyes. He sighed. 

“Fine,” said Geralt. “We’ll take care of them until we find somewhere better for them.”

Jaskier visibly relaxed in relief. “Thank you. You won’t regret it.” 

Geralt sighed again, though this time it was mostly for sure. Both he and Jaskier had been a little off balance since Ciri moved away for college, and it would probably do Jaskier good to have another being to take care of. Maybe he would remember to eat if he had to feed a cat. 

The thought made Geralt pause. “Do we have anything they can eat?”

“I stopped by the store on the way back,” said Jaskier. “I got a few cans of food. Would you get that ready? I’m going to try to get rid of anything these fellows shouldn’t be able to access.” 

“Okay,” said Geralt. He had spent enough time pet-sitting Yennefer’s cat when she traveled to be comfortable feeding cats. He went to the kitchen and found a few bowls that seemed low enough, then started to prepare the food while contemplating what they would need to do to pet-proof their house. Jaskier’s instruments and sheet music would need to be put away. 

A decade ago, Geralt would have been infuriated by such a sudden change in his responsibilities. He probably would have demanded Jaskier take the kittens away, and only afterwards thought that perhaps having another creature around the house would be nice. But he and Jaskier had both changed since then. They had grown beside and around each other. Now, Geralt trusted that Jaskier would keep his word and take care of them, and that he wouldn’t do something like this with true thoughtlessness — certainly not if it would place the kittens’ safety at risk. 

When Geralt finished preparing the food, he went to the bathroom to find Jaskier already setting up a litter box that he had apparently also bought on the way home. The black kitten was still in the cardboard box, but the tabby had clambered out and was tentatively sniffing at a dehumidifier. 

“Should we take them into the kitchen to feed them?” asked Geralt. 

“Seems reasonable,” said Jaskier. He picked up the box again. “Would you get that one?”

Geralt knelt and offered his hand to the kitten. It sniffed his fingers. It did not seem particularly bothered by him, so Geralt gently picked it up. Once it was settled in his arms, he stared petting it with one hand. 

He looked up to see Jaskier staring at him with an expression so full of fondness that Geralt’s breath hitched a little. 

“You’re both adorable,” said Jaskier. 

“Hm.”

Jaskier laughed. “Let’s get these little guys some food.”

They took the kittens to the kitchen. Geralt set both his kitten and the food on the floor, and watched as the black kitten clambered out of the box to join the other one in a meal. 

“They’re socialized well,” said Jaskier. “I hope nothing bad happened to whoever raised them. I can’t imagine why they were abandoned.”

Geralt hummed in thought. “If there was a mistake, we can give them back.”

“Very true.”

They put together a quick dinner while the kittens ate, then sectioned off a small part of their bedroom with a pen that Jaskier had somehow also acquired to cover with old cloths and papers so the kittens could spend the night there without getting hurt or damaging anything. Jaskier was a light sleeper, so he would wake up if the kittens needed any help. 

As he prepared for bed, Geralt realized that his exhaustion after his long day had faded away. He was still tired, of course, but the unhappiness was gone. He was amused. He was hopeful. He was happy. 

As Jaskier came out of the bathroom, damp from a shower and humming something that Geralt didn’t recognize, Geralt came up beside him and hugged him. 

“Oh!” said Jaskier. “Hello, there.”

“Love you,” said Geralt. 

He felt Jaskier’s smile against his cheek. “Love you, too.” 

As they headed towards their bed, kittens sleeping quietly in the corner, Geralt knew he was a very lucky husband indeed.

[ghostycritter]

Post Chatter Silence ☆

Context - Silence in between small talk is a happening that's gifted upon acquaintance upon acquaintance. Due to hesitation between topics similar to a sailboat with no wind— a boat with no motor is a raft. How would you and your 'acquaintance' handle the unspoken moment that is transitional silence?

Characters - Wolfgang Akire, Grace Madison, Ulysses Wilhelm, Mark 'Mayhem' Berskii

Warnings - none

A/N - Mb if Grace is OOC, I liked her writing better during chap 0 so i based it off that. Idk why... don't come @ me but chap 0 Grace on top!!!

Masterlist (✧) P:EG Masterlist

[🐑] Wolfgang Akire -

Silence remains a law that's inevitable. Simply a slope that none could get out of— especially during times where you'd strike up an idle conversation.

Chatter becomes a temporary solution towards lull. Even so, you attempted to initiate chit-chat with the Ultimate Lawyer. It feels reckless to construct such casual words in the presence of a very prestigious man. However, his soft spoken nature churned the mood to a sensual lightheartedness. Imbuing it with a warm and intimate stimuli that made you feel strange.

Butterflies — that's the scientific term to describe that tingling feeling in your gut when he'd respond to your little inquiries. Despite the guarantee of him having these types of discussions an uncountable amount of times— He made the current one you both reciprocated feel special.

His replies would always feel thoughtful. It was never generic or vague, the responses were made for *you*. His words were a gentle reminder that your sentences were invaluable. You wonder if everybody felt this way when he'd commence a conversation like this, or if this was something special.

The exchange dissolved into an unresolved mute. Just as you expected. Although, it didn't feel uncomfortable, definitely not the quiet you dread. In fact, the silence was welcoming. As though you shouldn't feel burdened by the lack of reaction, instead you should let go of the interaction.

The mute stretched between you both. Unbroken until Wolfgang glances back at you.

"You're pleasant to chat with, Ms/Mx/Mr [Surname]." His smooth voice is soft yet so determined.

A spark in his eyes spoke for himself, the glimmer told you what his words did not:

He'd love to talk again.

[🐰] Grace Madison -

Silence remains a law that's inevitable. Simply a slope that none could get out of— especially during times where you'd strike up an idle conversation.

Striking a chat with *the* Ultimate Golfer was a gamble. Disclose something mindless or uncultural you would get met with a verbal bash to the face. Yet, despite the topic being surrounded regarding the unbelievably difficult industry— you still got a marvelous chuckle having a chat with her.

It's challenging for you to commit a reply to Grace. She's so swift and unstoppable with her words, a few drops of your head giving her a nod is enough signal to let her continue her harsh sentences.

"...So, what about you?" Her question was like she crafted a new full-stop to the conversation.

The unexpected question caught you off-guard. Unsure of what to respond with. What could you say? Did you have any struggle regarding the industry? You gifted yourself a halt to brainstorm her question. Eventually, enough thoughts form a coherent feedback.

For the first time, you had the freedom to express how you felt. But your nervousness got the best of you— desaturating your sentence to a more anticlimactic anecdote.

"Exactly what I expect! We both can't catch a break, can we?" You felt a thrilling astonishment bubble within you. Grace relates! Her engaging comment ignited a conclusion in you:

She cared for your input.

With that, the noise withdrawal. Leaving you both in a silent trance. You expect for it to be broken by one of her lines, but no attempt was made to do so. Rather, you both sat in the basking lull. Still, you expect her to strike, like a pounce from a predator to a prey. You never expected such a sentence—

"You know what? You're pretty sensible."

That was the nicest thing she had ever said.

[🦉] Ulysses Wilhelm -

Silence remains a law that's inevitable. Simply a slope that none could get out of— especially during times where you'd strike up an idle conversation.

You found yourself having a conversation with none other than the insomniac Ultimate Historian. It was a rare privilege, like conversing with a living history book in front of you. Every single word that escaped your mouth was a scribble etched to the pages of his journal. It was a natural habit for him to record his entire daily interactions, however it gave him no time to give you full responses.

Your conversation unfolded on a superficial level. Yet, Ulysses paid extreme attention to what you have to input to the casual talk, making it feel as if it's more significant.

The conversation traveled at a comfortable pace. You both— or rather you only— is now on the subject of your recent accomplishments that earned you a place at the academy. As the explanation spilled out of your mouth, similar to what you rehearsed to what to tell friends and relatives; Ulysses spoke up, pausing his quill equipped hand.

He revises his notes, the silence overpowering the moment. You felt still. It was such a contrast from how much you talked about and now suddenly you were quiet. The silence was obvious, the words no longer formed in your mouth. You felt burdened from chattering too much, you fear it etched a high-ego image on your person. 

"Would you please elaborate on the event part? I'd love to know more." A spark of interest glittered his steady, indifferent tone.

As each word came to be his question. It felt like your talent was renewed and celebrated in a different perspective. He wanted you to clarify further!

You continued your explanation, offering him the vivid details of how your contributions during this 'event' came to be. As you finished up your story, he seemed to still be jotting down the specifics of your anecdote.

He lets out a yawn as he deliberately dotted the tip of the quill onto the parchment insinuating a period.

"That was interesting." He briefly commented.

[🐊] Mark 'Mayhem' Berskii

Silence remains a law that's inevitable. Simply a slope that none could get out of— especially during times where you'd strike up an idle conversation.

It's an ambitious challenge to converse with the Ultimate Music Producer. To say the least, he's extremely aloof, nearly impossible to approach. His distant demeanour made him tough to converse with. However, it's difficult to imagine how you even got into this situation.

Small talk was futile. Idle chats didn't work on Mark. He did not seem to be fazed by anything you attempted to say to spark up a chat between you both— you'd always be met with an unyielding silence.

Finally, you take matters into your own hands and start to introduce yourself.

Mark didn't seem too interested by your rant, your efforts seemed to be brushed off the more you tried. The only responses are stares— glares, in fact. It's obviously shown that he limits his interactions as much as possible.

You said one last conversation starter. He just gave you a small nod. The bare minimum of a response.

A heavy sigh escaped you. You aren't irritated, rather tired. At least you tried, a nod from Mark Berskii himself? That's well enough for you.

You continued with a subtle end to the conversation, not wanting to push him further. Probably for the best, but you didn't feel too pleased.

"What's your talent again?"

His voice was just as aloof as he is. There was no insinuation of welcome, but you'd gladly answer.

It was hard to believe that was Mark. A small humble smile graces your face as you respond with your talent.

A sentence from Mark Berskii himself?  That's surely something worth celebrating!

[bylerismyeverything]

The way I see it, Sorcerer could be one of two storylines (or both tbh). So we know that this is the episode with the miwi flashbacks. And the name ‘Sorcerer’ greatly hints about this episode being centered around Will.

1. This could be either the episode that byler happens in or be largely significant to their development as a ship.

2. And hear me out on this- Will might get powers in that episode. Ok so I think there’s some reason why Will can still feel everything upside down related and I honestly think him having powers would make a lot of sense. If you look back at season one you might see the scenes of Will communicating with Joyce, but did you ever wonder how he did that? Will talked to her through the Christmas lights and painted letters which he shouldn’t have seen since the upside down is frozen in the day he disappeared, he also found a way to communicate through his house phone and call Joyce from the upside down, we’ve seen him dangerously close to the demogorgon which probably means he had a plan and means to escape, this happened once in the song playing scene to the demogorgon breaking through his bedroom wall, and another time in the Byers living room in which he- and I think that’s the biggest proof- opens a gate. Yeah I know what you probably think, the gate just opened on its own or maybe the demogorgon opened it but imagine it from the upside down. In no scenario would Will see the demogorgon opening a gate and run towards him, and the demogorgon also opens very different gates (when he tears down the walls). And a gate has never opened on its own. In addition we’ve never seen what happened to Will in the upside down and he never talked about it. I think this would all eventually lead to Will powers reveal (probably in a time where Mike is in imminent danger), and what would be a better time to do that than an episode called “Sorcerer”?

[bluenerdtastemaker]

Maybe There Is Hope

Yuki Tsunoda x Liam Lawson | Rated T | 11.3K

--

--

--

I hated him. I hated everything about it. - Anonymous

Liam Lawson wasn’t sure why he clicked on the video. Maybe it was boredom, maybe it was the algorithm pushing it onto his feed, or maybe it was the title—"Anonymous Letters: Confessions of Broken Friendships"—that tugged at something buried deep in his chest.

It was a Jubilee segment. He’d seen a few of them before, strangers sitting in dimly lit chairs, reading letters from people they would never meet. Honest, raw stories. This one was no different.

A young girl with a soft voice started reading.

"I worked in a field where you had to be a predator. If you weren’t, you’d be eaten alive. And for a long time, I thought I was okay with that. It’s just how things are."

Liam’s chest tightened, but he brushed it off. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard metaphors like that before. Competitive sports were cutthroat. Everyone knew it.

"I had a best friend in that world. We started as teammates in a junior program, and we were inseparable. We laughed, supported each other—even when the results were bad, even when the rumors started. We promised we’d have each other’s backs."

His hand paused mid-reach for the remote.

"But then, in 2024, things changed. One of us was going to get promoted to a bigger role. It was down to me and him. I thought it was going to be me."

Liam sat up straighter.

"I had better stats, more experience. I was ready for it. But they chose him."

The girl’s voice cracked, and Liam’s stomach dropped.

"He got it with less than six trials. I smiled when it happened. I told him I was happy for him, but inside, I hated him. I hated everything about it. Was it because of the way I talked? The way I acted? Did I come off too strong? I don’t know."

His heart was pounding now.

"I told myself it was just one bad decision. That I’d find something better. But then time passed, and the opportunities stopped coming. Eventually, I was forced to leave that world. And my best friend—he didn’t call."

Liam’s vision blurred for a moment. He didn’t need the girl to keep reading. He already knew how this story ended.

Yuki.

"I left everything behind. I hated him. Hated myself for hating him. I wished I could say it to his face, but I didn’t. We never talked again."

The girl paused, her voice softer now.

"Sometimes, occupations or life destroy what you thought was your light. And sometimes, you can’t stop it."

Liam barely heard the rest of the video.

Yuki had vanished after 2025. No interviews, no social media posts—nothing. At first, Liam thought he just needed space, time to process everything. But days turned into months, and then years. And Liam hadn’t reached out. He didn’t know why. Maybe he thought Yuki would come back. Maybe he thought he’d be mad.

But he never imagined this.

Liam turned off the video and grabbed his phone.

There was no hesitation. He pulled up Yuki’s old number, fully expecting it to be disconnected. But the message box was still active.

Liam: I’m sorry.

He stared at the screen. The three dots popped up almost immediately.

Yuki: Why now?

Liam swallowed.

Liam: Because I just saw you.

There was a long pause, then;

Yuki: I didn’t think you’d care.

Liam: I do. I always did.

The dots hovered for a long time before disappearing. Liam stared at the empty screen, his heart sinking, but then—

Yuki: We need to talk.

And Liam finally exhaled.

–

Liam leaned back in the plush leather seat of his private jet, eyes fixed on the endless stretch of clouds outside the window. The hum of the engines filled the silence, but it did nothing to drown out the thoughts racing in his head.

Yeah, this job had done wonders for his bank account. Private jets, penthouse apartments, tailored suits—he had it all. But the weight on his chest didn’t care about any of that. Success had a way of amplifying the emptiness instead of filling it.

He wasn’t the one to blame. He knew that. He’d just played the game the way it was designed to be played. He’d worked hard—harder than most—and he deserved that position next to Max. He’d earned it.

Yet, no matter how many times he told himself that, Yuki’s face always surfaced.

Even now, three years later, it lingered. That half-smile Yuki always wore like armor, the sharpness in his eyes that made you forget he was barely over five foot three. Liam had thought that smile would always be there, but when it disappeared, it left behind a void that no amount of podiums or championships could fill.

The plane touched down in Okinawa under a hazy sky. Liam stepped out, sunglasses shielding his eyes from the glare, and turned the small slip of paper in his hand. An address.

He’d double-checked it more times than he cared to admit. A quiet island where the majority of the population was elderly. It didn’t match the image he’d held of Yuki for so long—the fiery, unstoppable force that tore through the junior circuits like he was born to do it.

But here he was, standing in front of a modest home that smelled faintly of saltwater and earth, clutching a wrinkled piece of paper like it was a lifeline.

Yuki lived here now. Not just lived—thrived, if the stories Liam had managed to dig up were true. He ran a restaurant and art business, which honestly didn’t surprise Liam in the slightest. Yuki had always had a talent for turning chaos into beauty.

Still, knowing Yuki was doing well didn’t stop the nerves twisting in Liam’s stomach as he stood at the front door.

He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and rang the bell.

The door opened, and there he was.

Yuki Tsunoda.

But not the Yuki Liam remembered.

This Yuki was broader, stronger. The kind of build that came from heavy lifting and labor instead of gym sessions and simulators. He wore a loose short-sleeve shirt that showed off his tan skin, his toned arms, and—Liam’s eyes caught—an intricate sleeve tattoo of sakura blossoms winding from his shoulder to his wrist.

His ears glinted under the sunlight, three earrings in one and two in the other. Liam almost didn’t recognize him. Almost.

But the sharpness in his gaze—that fire—was still there.

Yuki’s eyes narrowed.

“…Liam?”

Liam swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. “Hey.”

Yuki didn’t move, didn’t speak for a long moment.

Then he stepped back, leaving the door open just enough to let Liam through.

“Come in,” Yuki said, his voice low, unreadable.

And just like that, Liam stepped into a world he thought he’d lost forever.

–

The house was quiet. Too quiet for Liam’s liking.

He followed Yuki inside, the faint scent of paint and cooked rice lingering in the air. The place wasn’t big, but it felt lived-in—warm, but guarded. Yuki led him to a small living room where the walls were lined with framed artwork.

They sat across from each other.

Yuki didn’t speak at first, his eyes locked on the table between them. Liam tried to take in everything—the way Yuki’s fingers curled tightly around his glass, the way his shoulders rose and fell just a little too quickly.

Then, Yuki exhaled, sharp and heavy. “So. You saw the video.”

Liam flinched. The words were heavier than he expected.

“It was you,” he said quietly, more a statement than a question.

Yuki scoffed, shaking his head. “Not exactly.” He looked up then, his gaze sharp and unrelenting. “It was my sister’s idea. She thought if I didn’t have the guts to talk to you, maybe a stranger reading my words would make you listen. I was waiting for your message, hence why I still keep that number.”

Liam swallowed. “Yuki—”

“Don’t,” Yuki cut him off, voice firm but trembling. “Let me say this first.”

Liam shut his mouth, his chest tightening.

Yuki leaned back, his arms crossed, exposing more of the sakura blossoms inked into his skin. It made Liam feel even smaller somehow.

“I hated them,” Yuki started, his voice low and controlled. “Those two old men who smiled at me, promised me the world, and then threw me away like trash the second I wasn’t convenient for them anymore. I gave them everything—five years of my life—driving cars that weren’t good enough, hearing excuses that didn’t make sense, and still, I kept showing up.”

Liam’s nails dug into his palms.

“They told me to be patient, to wait, that my time would come. But it didn’t, did it?” Yuki laughed bitterly. “When 2026 came, and the seat was full, I knew I was done. Not good enough for them. Never good enough.”

“Yuki, you were—”

“No,” Yuki snapped, his voice cutting through the room. “You don’t get to tell me that. Not now.”

Liam bit his tongue.

“Do you know what it’s like, Liam?” Yuki’s voice broke, just a little. “To give everything and still not be seen? To know that no matter what I did, no matter how fast I was, no matter how hard I fought, it was never going to be enough?”

Liam didn’t answer.

“Because I’m Japanese? Because I’m not loud enough, not tall enough, not charismatic enough? Or maybe because I refused to smile and play their games when they wanted me to?” Yuki’s jaw clenched, his shoulders shaking. “They said I needed to be more marketable, easier to sell. What the hell does that even mean?”

Liam shut his eyes, guilt clawing at his throat.

“And you,” Yuki whispered, and Liam froze. “They used you, Liam. You don’t even realize it, do you?”

Liam looked up, and Yuki’s eyes were already on him, dark and tired.

“They used you to make me feel small,” Yuki said. “Every time you got praised, every time they pointed at you and said, ‘Look how good Liam’s doing,’ it was a reminder that I wasn’t enough. And I hated it. I hated them for doing it, and I hated you for being part of it—even though I knew it wasn’t your fault.”

Liam’s breath hitched.

“But you know what the worst part is?” Yuki leaned forward. “I didn’t say anything. Not to them. Not to you. Because I cared about you too much to ruin what you had. I couldn’t take that away from you, even if it hurt me.”

Liam opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“And now?” Yuki sat back, arms dropping to his sides. “I’m here. Running a business on a tiny island, trying to pretend I don’t care anymore. But I do.”

The silence was suffocating.

Finally, Liam spoke. “I’m sorry.”

Yuki didn’t move.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see it,” Liam said, his voice trembling. “I should’ve noticed—I should’ve said something, done something—but I didn’t. I was so focused on my own career, my own goals, that I let them turn me into something I never wanted to be.”

He exhaled sharply, hands trembling as he gripped his knees.

“And the worst part? I knew it was happening.” Liam’s voice cracked. “I saw how they treated you, how they talked about you when you weren’t in the room. I heard them compare us—over and over again—and I let it happen because I was too scared to speak up. Because I was afraid it’d be me next.”

Yuki’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes softened.

“I hated myself for it,” Liam admitted. “I still do.”

The words hung in the air between them.

Yuki sighed, leaning back in his chair. He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers brushing against the edge of one of his earrings.

“I wish you didn’t apologize,” he said quietly, and Liam blinked, taken aback.

“What?”

“It’s not your fault,” Yuki continued, his voice steady but low. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Liam. You just… played the game better.”

“That’s not—”

“It is,” Yuki cut him off, shaking his head. “It’s a fucked-up sport. It’s always been like that—cutthroat, political, and ugly under the surface. It’s never just about talent, is it? It’s about timing, connections, and luck. And for once, it worked in your favor.”

Liam’s breath hitched, his guilt still clawing at him, but Yuki’s expression didn’t waver.

“I don’t hate you for that,” Yuki said softly, and that hit harder than Liam expected.

“But—”

“I hated everything else,” Yuki admitted. “The way they treated me, the lies, the fake promises, the way they talked about me like I was a project that didn’t work out instead of a person.” He paused, his gaze distant. “I hated how they made me feel small. How they made me feel like nothing I did was ever enough, even when I gave them everything I had.”

Liam swallowed hard, his chest tightening.

“But you?” Yuki’s eyes met his again. “I could never really hate you, Liam. Not in the way I hated them. It wasn’t always like this.”

Liam’s shoulders sagged in relief, but the weight of Yuki’s words still lingered.

“I was angry,” Yuki continued. “At the system, at the people who pulled the strings, and yeah—sometimes, I was angry at you too. Not because of who you are, but because of what you represented. Because every time they praised you, it felt like they were telling me I wasn’t good enough.”

Liam clenched his fists, but Yuki just sighed again.

“And I’m sorry,” Yuki said, and Liam froze. “For letting it get this bad. For shutting you out when I should’ve said something sooner. But I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to drag you down with me.”

“Yuki…” Liam’s voice cracked.

“I mean it,” Yuki said, his voice softer now. “I don’t want you carrying this guilt. You deserved that seat, Liam. You worked hard for it. Just like I did.”

Liam bit his lip, forcing himself to stay quiet even as his heart screamed at him to argue.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Yuki added, and for the first time, his voice faltered. “I thought we’d both make it. That we’d be there, side by side, at the top. But life doesn’t work that way, does it?”

Liam shook his head. “No. It doesn’t.”

Yuki leaned forward then, resting his elbows on his knees. “I never wanted to hate you, Liam. And I don’t—not anymore. But I needed time. To let it go. To figure out who I am without all of that.”

“And did you?” Liam asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Yuki hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. I think so.” He gestured to the room around them. “This? It’s not what I thought my life would look like. But it’s mine. And I’m happy here.”

Liam’s chest ached, but it wasn’t the sharp sting of guilt anymore. It was something gentler. Something closer to hope.

“I’m glad,” he said softly.

Yuki smiled, small but genuine. “Me too.”

Liam watched as Yuki stood up, stretching his arms before heading toward the kitchen. The subtle shift of muscles under his tanned skin and the glint of the sakura blossom tattoo peeking from under his sleeve made Liam’s breath hitch, but he quickly averted his eyes when Yuki turned to glance back at him.

“Have you eaten yet?” Yuki asked, pulling open the fridge.

Liam rubbed the back of his neck. “Plane food doesn’t count, right?”

Yuki snorted—soft but familiar—and Liam found himself momentarily frozen, the sound tugging at something in his chest. It wasn’t loud like before, not the sharp laughter Liam used to hear echoing in the paddock or during late-night calls after races, but it was still Yuki. And maybe that was enough.

“Sit down,” Yuki said, already pulling out ingredients. “I’ll make something quick.”

Liam obeyed, settling at the kitchen island as Yuki moved around with practiced ease. He was calm—focused in a way Liam didn’t expect. Yuki had always been restless, bursting with energy even when exhausted, but this Yuki? He was deliberate. Measured. Different.

And undeniably attractive.

Liam swallowed hard, eyes trailing over the curve of Yuki’s shoulders and the slope of his back as he chopped vegetables and peeled shrimp. The tattoo inked along his arm shifted as he moved, and Liam blinked, forcing himself to look away when his cheeks began to burn.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He cleared his throat, eyes flickering to the stove where Yuki was stirring rice in a wok. The faint scent of garlic and soy sauce filled the air, and Liam latched onto it like a lifeline.

But his thoughts kept circling back.

Yuki had changed—a lot. He wasn’t loud or hyper anymore, and there was a weight to him now that Liam wasn’t sure how to define. His English had a thicker Japanese accent than before, probably from spending the last three years in Okinawa, and even the way he carried himself felt more grounded, more mature.

Liam had changed too. He wasn’t the wide-eyed rookie he once was. He’d bulked up, hardened under the pressures of the sport, but sitting here now, watching Yuki cook like it was second nature, Liam couldn’t shake the feeling that Yuki had grown in ways he hadn’t.

And maybe that was what made it so hard to look away.

“It’s done,” Yuki said, breaking Liam out of his thoughts. He turned to find Yuki setting two plates of fried rice down on the counter, steam curling up from the shrimp scattered on top.

Liam grabbed a fork without hesitation, shoveling a bite into his mouth—and nearly choking.

“Since when can you make fried rice this good?” Liam blurted, eyes wide as he went in for another bite.

Yuki raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement tugging at his lips. “You think I survived three years here without learning how to cook? I owned a restaurant man.”

“No, seriously,” Liam said between mouthfuls. “This is—damn, Yuki.”

Yuki huffed, shaking his head, but there was the faintest trace of color dusting his cheeks.

“Shut up and eat.”

And for the first time in a long time, Liam smiled.

–

Liam stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up and hands already submerged in soapy water. He scrubbed the plates with a focus that was entirely unnecessary, especially since Yuki’s kitchen was spotless to begin with.

“Liam—”

“Already started, can’t stop now!” Liam interrupted quickly, flashing Yuki a grin over his shoulder before turning back to the dishes.

Yuki huffed, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter. “I wasn’t asking.”

“And I wasn’t offering,” Liam shot back, his tone light but his heart thundering in his chest.

Yuki shook his head, muttering something in Japanese that Liam didn’t catch. It sounded exasperated—probably a curse—but Liam just smiled to himself and kept scrubbing.

The sound came next. A soft, high-pitched meow.

Liam paused, sponge in hand, and turned toward the source of the noise.

“No way,” he said.

Another meow, followed by the soft padding of paws against the tile. And then there they were—three cats, all staring up at him with wide, expectant eyes.

“Yuki,” Liam said slowly, voice dangerously close to disbelief. “You have cats?”

Yuki didn’t even look up. “Don’t judge me.”

“Judge you? No, I’m impressed.” Liam crouched down, extending a hand, and immediately one of the cats—a sleek black one with a little white spot on its chest—sauntered over and rubbed against his fingers.

The second cat, a fluffy orange tabby, flopped onto its back, clearly demanding belly rubs.

“Oh my god,” Liam whispered. “They’re adorable.”

“They’re a menace,” Yuki countered, though the affection in his voice said otherwise.

Liam looked up just in time to catch it—that soft, almost shy smile on Yuki’s face as he knelt down to scoop up the third cat, a gray and white one that curled up easily in his arms.

And Liam? He was doomed.

Because Yuki had always been attractive—sharp-edged and quick-witted, equal parts fire and charm—but this? The soft edges, the calm demeanor, the subtle strength in the way he held himself now? It was something else entirely.

“You’re staring,” Yuki said, looking down at him with a raised eyebrow.

Liam blinked, scrambling to cover. “I was admiring the cats!”

“Right,” Yuki said, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he set the cat back down and leaned against the counter again, watching as Liam stood up, suddenly hyperaware of how close they were.

The tension shifted then—subtle but undeniable.

It wasn’t new. Liam knew that. It had always been there, simmering quietly between them even when they were teammates—late-night talks, lingering looks, and smiles that meant more than they should’ve. But now? It felt sharper. Hungrier.

Yuki must’ve felt it too because he cleared his throat and stepped back, suddenly very interested in rearranging the spice jars on the counter.

“So,” Yuki said, his voice steadier than Liam expected. “You’re good with cats.”

Liam latched onto the topic like a lifeline. “I mean, they seem to like me.”

“They like anyone who gives them attention,” Yuki said flatly, but Liam caught the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Guess I’ll have to come back, then,” Liam said without thinking.

Yuki froze, just for a second, before forcing a laugh. “For the cats?”

“Sure,” Liam replied, but they both knew better.

The weight of it hung there between them—unspoken but heavy. And as much as Liam wanted to push, to close the space between them and figure out exactly what the hell this thing between them was, he didn’t.

Not yet.

Instead, he knelt back down, letting the orange tabby paw at his hand, and pretended not to notice the way Yuki kept looking at him.

–

They settled into the living room, Yuki on the couch with one of his cats curled in his lap while Liam took the armchair across from him. The plates were clean, the cats were fed, and the tension that had hung between them earlier had softened into something more manageable—familiar, even.

“So,” Yuki started, absentmindedly scratching behind the cat’s ears. “How’s life?”

Liam snorted. “You mean outside of flying in private jets and avoiding PR nightmares?”

Yuki raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. The real stuff.”

Liam hummed, leaning back. “Busy, mostly. Traveling, racing, pretending I don’t check your Instagram stories even though we both know I do.”

Yuki’s cat stretched, yawning as if it, too, was judging him.

“Funny,” Yuki said, smirking slightly. “Because I could say the same.”

Liam’s eyes widened. “Wait—you—”

“Relax,” Yuki said, waving him off. “It’s not like I’m scrolling through your tagged photos. Just...keeping up.”

Liam let out a breath, his lips twitching. “That’s a relief. Because if you’d seen half the things people edit me into—”

“Oh, I’ve seen them.”

Liam groaned, covering his face with his hands, and Yuki actually laughed—a real one, light and genuine. It made Liam’s heart lurch in his chest, but he pushed it down and refocused.

“So what about you?” Liam asked, lowering his hands. “I mean—art? I still can’t wrap my head around that.”

Yuki shrugged. “I always liked it. Had time after retiring, so I started sketching. Posted a few online, and somehow it blew up.”

“Blew up?” Liam repeated. “Try exploded.”

Yuki flushed slightly, brushing off the comment.

“No, seriously,” Liam pressed. “You’re Takako.”

Yuki winced at the name, but Liam wasn’t done.

“The Takako. The one everyone lost their minds over when that first series dropped in 2026? The one with the gallery showing in New York last year?”

“Stop.” Yuki groaned, hiding his face in the cat’s fur.

“No way,” Liam said, grinning. “I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner. I mean, the pen name threw me, sure, but the art? It’s so...you.”

Yuki peeked up at him. “Is that a compliment?”

“Obviously.”

Yuki rolled his eyes but looked pleased anyway.

“And the mascot thing?” Liam asked.

Yuki shrugged again. “Perks of being Japanese. People are used to anonymous artists with avatars. Makes it easier to keep my privacy.”

“And you’re nominated?”

“Maybe,” Yuki said, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile.

Liam shook his head in disbelief. “Unreal. Yuki Tsunoda—the guy who used to sneak instant ramen into hotel rooms—is an award-nominated artist.”

Yuki smirked. “And you’re still just driving in circles.”

“Hey!” Liam protested, but he was laughing too.

Yuki leaned back, stroking the cat in his lap. “Anyway, what did I miss? The grid gossip. I know you’re dying to spill it.”

Liam’s grin turned wicked. “Oh, you’re not ready.”

Yuki raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Max confessed to George,” Liam said, savoring the way Yuki’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Bullshit.”

“I swear.” Liam held up his hands. “They’ve been soft-launching for months now, and George finally posted a picture of Max holding his dog like a baby in their private. It’s disgusting.”

“No way.”

“Way.” Liam smirked.

“And Charles and Carlos?”

“Still together.” Liam smirked. “You know they went Instagram official last year. Viral, even. Lots of dramatic vacation pictures and shirtless selfies.”

“Yeah typical,” Yuki muttered, but the corners of his mouth twitched.

“Oh! And Pierre and Esteban.”

Yuki perked up at that. “What about them?”

Liam leaned in, eyes glinting. “Kissed.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Yes, Yuki. I swear. Kissed and now dating. Apparently, they used to be in this weird situationship for years before actually making it official. It was a whole thing.”

Yuki’s jaw dropped, and he ran a hand through his hair. “I need to message Pierre. Immediately.”

Liam laughed, watching Yuki scramble for his phone before realizing he didn’t even have Pierre’s new number. “I’ll text him for you later,” Liam offered.

“Do it,” Yuki said, still reeling. “God, I really missed everything.”

Liam’s grin softened as he took in Yuki’s expression. “Yeah, you did. But they’d all be thrilled to hear from you, you know.”

Yuki hesitated, fingers brushing the phone screen in his hand. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s been so long, god damn, I left and the entire grid turns into a soap opera.”

Liam watched him carefully then, the way his shoulders had relaxed and his expression had softened. It was like seeing glimpses of the old Yuki again, and he couldn’t stop the fond smile spreading across his face.

“Still,” Yuki said, from the phone now looking at him. “It’s nice to know they’re doing well.”

“And you’re doing well,” Liam pointed out.

Yuki blinked at him, looking almost startled by the sincerity in Liam’s voice.

“Yeah,” Yuki said quietly, slowly avoiding eye contact with the blond man. “I guess I am.”

And for a moment, they just sat there—two people who had drifted apart and somehow found their way back to each other.

Suddenly, the peace was shattered by the most chaotic noise Liam had ever heard. A high-pitched yowl echoed through the room, and before he could even register what was happening, one of the cats had launched itself off the couch, landing on the counter with a loud thud.

The other two cats, apparently on some sort of coordinated mission, joined in on the madness, darting around the room with wild abandon. One of them knocked into the bookshelf, sending books cascading to the floor with a crash, while the other went straight for the mug on the counter. Liam barely had time to react before the cat swiped the mug off the edge, sending it hurtling toward the floor.

"NO!" Yuki yelped, diving forward to catch the mug, but the cat was faster. It tumbled down, crashing against the counter with a sharp, horrifying clink, shattering into pieces.

"That is THIRD mug this week!" Yuki groaned, falling back on his heels. His eyes met Liam’s in frustration, but the sight of the cat now sitting on the counter, looking entirely pleased with itself, was too much.

Liam burst out laughing, but that didn’t stop the chaos. The cats were still everywhere—two had jumped onto the coffee table and were now batting at Yuki’s art supplies, and the third had decided that Yuki's lap was the perfect place to take a nap again.

As Yuki reached for the stray cat on the table, his foot caught on the corner of the rug, and in a flash, he tripped—straight into Liam.

"WHAT—" Yuki gasped as they collided, arms flailing. For a moment, everything seemed to slow down, like they were trapped in an action movie scene. But instead of gracefully stumbling backward, Yuki found himself toppling straight into Liam, their bodies crashing together in a hilarious, jumbled heap on the floor.

Liam’s heart skipped a beat, his body going rigid at the sudden contact. For a moment, all he could hear was the rush of his own heartbeat, louder than a Formula 1 car at full throttle. He froze, looking down at Yuki, whose wide eyes were locked onto him.

"SHIT, sorry!" Yuki yelped, scrambling to get up as quickly as possible, but his arm brushed against Liam’s chest, sending a shock of warmth through him. "I—uh—didn’t mean to—"

Liam blinked rapidly, his face turning an alarming shade of red. "No, no, it's fine," he muttered, trying to push himself off the floor and stand, but his legs felt a bit wobbly. "I’m good. Totally fine."

Yuki scrambled to his feet too, looking flustered, his cheeks turning pink. "I—I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking—"

"No worries, really," Liam managed, but his voice was higher than normal. His heart was still racing like he was about to go into a race. "It’s all good."

Just as they both tried to regain some semblance of composure, the third cat meowed loudly from the counter. With a smug look in its eyes, it gave the broken mug a gentle nudge, and it clinked off the edge, sending a small piece flying into the air.

Both Yuki and Liam froze, eyes darting between the cat and the mess.

Yuki sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "That’s it. I’m getting a dog."

Liam couldn't hold it in anymore. He laughed so hard, his stomach hurt. The absurdity of it all—the wild cats, the unexpected trip, the chaos—was enough to finally break the tension between them. He couldn't stop laughing, even as Yuki scowled at the mischievous creatures wreaking havoc in his apartment.

The sound of laughter filled the room, echoing around the small space, and for the first time in a long while, everything felt right.

–

The sun hung low in the Okinawan sky, bathing the small seaside town in a warm, golden glow. Liam followed Yuki into the modest, cozy restaurant tucked between older, weathered buildings. The wooden beams and hanging lanterns gave the space a timeless charm, and the scent of fresh ingredients and simmering broth filled the air.

“This is it,” Yuki said, gesturing around as he led Liam inside. “Welcome to my second home.”

Liam took it all in—The restaurant was small but cozy, with wooden beams and soft lighting that made the space feel warm. It had the kind of charm that invited people to linger a little longer after their meals, chatting over tea or quietly enjoying the ambiance. Liam stepped inside and immediately felt out of place in his designer shirt and watch, but Yuki didn’t seem to care. He moved with ease through the space, flipping chairs down from tables and tidying up before the evening rush.

“This is your side gig?” Liam asked, leaning against the counter as Yuki set out utensils.

“More like my sanity project,” Yuki replied, flashing a quick smile before gesturing to the kitchen in the back. “Cooking helps. Keeps my hands busy.”

Liam didn’t miss the way Yuki’s voice softened, like he’d said too much and was trying to backtrack. But then Yuki shrugged, falling into a familiar rhythm. “It’s nothing fancy—affordable, good food, nothing pretentious. This island’s mostly retirees, so that’s what works.”

Liam watched him, his hands moving quickly as he prepared ingredients, and for a moment, he was transported back to their younger years—when Yuki used to talk about opening a restaurant someday. “You really did it,” Liam murmured.

Yuki paused, glancing over his shoulder. “What?”

“The restaurant,” Liam said, smiling faintly. “You used to talk about this all the time. You said you’d have a place where everyone could eat well without worrying about money.”

Yuki turned back to the counter, but Liam caught the slight upward tilt of his lips. “Guess I wasn’t lying.”

By the time the regulars started calling, asking if Yuki was open tonight, Liam was already seated at the bar, quietly observing. Yuki didn’t hesitate to say yes, flipping the sign on the door to welcome them in. And that was when Liam saw it—Yuki in his element.

The tension Liam had seen earlier, the guarded way Yuki held himself, melted away. Here, Yuki smiled. He laughed. He teased the elderly customers who came in one by one, treating them like old friends. Liam saw how they adored him in return, bringing little trinkets or baked goods to share.

It was only when the bell above the door jingled that Liam snapped out of his thoughts. An elderly woman shuffled inside, holding a reusable shopping bag and wearing a wide-brimmed sunhat. Her wrinkled face broke into a smile the moment she saw Yuki.

“Ah, Yuki-kun!” she greeted, her voice soft but warm.

“Obaa-chan!” Yuki beamed, wiping his hands on a towel before bowing slightly. “You’re early today.”

“I wanted to see you before the sun went down,” she said, then turned her sharp eyes toward Liam. “Who’s this?”

Yuki looked slightly amused. “My best friend,” he said casually, and Liam’s heart stuttered at the words. Despite Yuki it in Japanese, Liam understood it. Best friend. God, he’d missed that. But something about the title felt uneven, like it didn’t quite fit the shape of their relationship anymore.

“You can sit with him while I finish up.”

The old woman didn’t hesitate to walk straight over, gesturing for Liam to pull out a chair for her, in which he catched on quickly. He obliged quickly, sitting across from her as Yuki went back to work behind the counter.

“You’re Yuki’s friend?” she asked in slow, deliberate English.

Liam nodded. “Yeah. From a long time ago.”

She squinted at him, as if examining his soul. “You are far away from home, yes?”

“Yeah,” Liam admitted. “But I wanted to see him.”

Her lips pressed into a thin smile. “Good. He needs friends. Too alone here. Always working, always busy. Never resting.” She glanced over her shoulder at Yuki, who was flipping something in the pan with practiced ease. “He smiles, but not like before. Guarded. Always guarded.”

Liam felt something ache in his chest as he looked toward Yuki’s back, watching the way his shoulders shifted as he cooked. It was true—Yuki had changed. He wasn’t the vibrant, reckless force Liam had once known. He was quieter and steadier, but there was an undercurrent of something heavy beneath the surface.

“He looks out at the sunset sometimes,” the woman continued, her words simple but cutting. “Like he is waiting. Or maybe longing for something.”

Liam swallowed thickly, gripping the edge of the table. “I—”

The old woman patted his hand gently, surprising him. “You talk to him. Don’t let him stay in shadows. It’s no good for the heart.”

He stared at her, unsure of what to say, but she simply smiled and stood up, muttering something about needing to get back home before dark. Liam watched her leave, her words echoing in his head long after the door jingled shut behind her.

When he turned back, Yuki was setting a plate down in front of him, giving him a curious look. “What did she say to you?”

Liam hesitated before shaking his head, forcing a smile. “Just... that I should eat before it gets cold.”

Yuki smirked, clearly not buying it but letting it slide. Liam picked up his chopsticks, but as he took his first bite, his eyes kept drifting back to Yuki—this version of him that was so familiar yet so different.

Because as much as Yuki had built a new life here, surrounded by warmth and laughter, Liam couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still missing—and that maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with him.

–

The night had slowed into something softer, quieter. The restaurant was cleaned, the dishes put away, and the elderly regulars had shuffled home, leaving behind faint traces of laughter and conversation. Liam stayed behind to help Yuki lock up, and by the time they made it back to Yuki’s home, exhaustion was starting to creep in.

It didn’t take much convincing—or rather, Liam’s stubborn insistence—for Yuki to end up sharing the bed instead of the sofa.

“No way,” Liam had said, hands on his hips, blocking the living room like a wall. “You’re not sleeping on that thing.”

“It’s fine, Liam. I—”

“No,” Liam interrupted, dragging Yuki’s blanket toward the bedroom. “Don’t even argue. Come on.”

Yuki grumbled but followed, muttering something under his breath that Liam pretended not to hear.

Now, hours later, the room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains. Yuki’s breathing was steady, his back turned to Liam, the faint outline of his sakura blossom tattoo peeking out from under the loose sleeve of his shirt. Liam had tried not to look, but it was impossible to ignore.

Lying there, with the sound of the waves in the distance and Yuki so close he could feel the heat radiating off him, Liam felt restless. He couldn’t sleep—not with the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on him.

He exhaled softly, his voice barely a whisper in the stillness.

“I don’t think I ever told you,” he began, unsure if he was speaking to Yuki or to himself, “how much it meant. Having you there.”

Yuki didn’t move, his breathing steady, and Liam took it as permission to keep going.

“I thought about it a lot,” he admitted, his voice breaking just a little. “You were the one who kept me grounded. When things got overwhelming, or when I felt like I didn’t belong, you were there. And then—then you were gone.”

His fingers tightened against the blanket, guilt rising in his chest.

“I hated myself for letting it happen. For not fighting harder for you. And I know I had no control over any of it, but still…” He trailed off, swallowing the knot in his throat.

The words lingered in the air, and Liam suddenly felt ridiculous. Yuki was probably fast asleep, blissfully unaware of his late-night confession.

“I just—” He sighed, quieter this time. “I miss you. More than I think I realized until now.”

The room fell silent after that, and the weight in Liam’s chest slowly eased as sleep began to pull him under.

What he didn’t see was the way Yuki’s eyes opened, dark and sharp in the dim light. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe too loudly—just listened.

And when Liam’s breathing evened out, signaling that he was finally asleep, Yuki turned onto his back, staring at the ceiling.

Liam’s words replayed in his head, over and over, cutting deeper than he wanted to admit.

Because the truth was—he missed Liam too.

But saying it out loud? That scared him more than anything.

–

The next day, neither of them brought up what happened the night before, leaving it unspoken. Yuki decided to make a call, informing everyone that the restaurant would be closed for two days so he could spend some time with Liam. It was the only time he ever did this. Since Okinawa is such a small island where everyone knows each other, the regulars understood and sympathized with the restaurant owner’s decision.

The roar of Yuki’s motorcycle had long since died down, leaving only the soft hum of cicadas and the distant crash of waves against the shore below. They were perched at the top of a hill, the kind of place that felt untouched by time. From here, the entire island stretched out before them, bathed in gold and amber hues as the sun dipped lower.

Liam sat on the grass, his legs stretched out, while Yuki leaned against his bike, arms crossed as the wind toyed with the strands of his hair. For a while, neither of them spoke, content to let the silence stretch between them. It wasn’t awkward—not anymore.

But Liam should have known Yuki wasn’t the type to let things fester forever.

“I heard it,” Yuki said suddenly, breaking the quiet. His voice was calm, but it carried weight—heavy and unflinching.

Liam blinked, turning to look at him. “What?”

“Last night,” Yuki clarified, not looking at him. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, sharp and unwavering. “What you said.”

Liam’s stomach dropped. The words he’d spoken in the dark, half-confession and half-regret, came rushing back all at once.

“Oh.” He scrambled for something—anything—to say, but Yuki cut him off.

“It’s okay,” Yuki said, finally turning his gaze toward Liam. “I’m not mad.”

Liam let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, but before he could relax, Yuki kept going.

“But I need you to know something.”

The tone in Yuki’s voice made Liam sit up straighter.

“I didn’t leave because of you,” Yuki said. “Not really. I left because I needed to get away from it—everything. The pressure, the expectations, the way it felt like I was constantly drowning just to keep up.”

Liam swallowed, the guilt tightening again. “Yuki—”

“I hated it,” Yuki interrupted, and for the first time, there was venom in his voice—raw and unfiltered. “I hated how the sport made me feel like I wasn’t enough, no matter how hard I tried. I hated how it chewed me up and spat me out, and I hated how I couldn’t stop loving it even when it hurt me.”

Liam flinched at that, but Yuki didn’t let him sit with it for long.

“I hated myself for not being stronger,” Yuki said, softer now. “For not being able to keep going. But I hated the system more—for making me feel like walking away was my only option.”

Liam didn’t know what to say.

“I didn’t tell you any of this back then because I didn’t want to drag you down with me,” Yuki admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “You deserved your chance. You worked for it. And if I had said something—if I had lashed out—I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself.”

Liam’s throat felt tight. He wanted to argue, to tell Yuki that he should have said something, that he deserved better—but he also knew Yuki didn’t need that right now.

Instead, Liam reached out, grabbing Yuki’s arm and pulling him down to sit beside him.

“I’m sorry,” Liam said, the words barely scraping past his lips.

“I told you to stop apologizing,” Yuki replied, but this time, there was no bite to it.

They sat there as the sun dipped lower, the sky painted in streaks of orange and pink. Liam glanced at Yuki—at the tattoos and the earrings, at the leather jacket and the guarded expression that had started to soften.

“You’re still my best friend,” Liam said suddenly, surprising even himself.

Yuki turned to look at him, his eyes searching Liam’s face for something unspoken.

“…I know,” Yuki finally said. “You always were.”

And just like that, something shifted—something unspoken but understood.

Yuki leaned back, resting on his elbows as he looked out over the horizon.

“You know,” Yuki said, smirking just slightly, “I was really tempted to make you ride the moped instead.”

Liam burst out laughing, the tension breaking completely.

“I would’ve murdered you,” Liam shot back, nudging Yuki’s shoulder.

Yuki grinned, and for the first time in what felt like forever, it actually reached his eyes.

–

Yuki watched as Liam laughed, the sound ringing out like music, and for a brief moment, Yuki couldn’t help but think about how much things had changed between them. How much Liam had changed.

The Liam he used to know had always been the lanky, quick-footed kid, with a wide grin and sharp eyes. He used to be all wiry muscles and endless energy, always cracking jokes and never staying still. But now, sitting next to him, Yuki could see how much more solid Liam had become. There was a weight to him now—his shoulders broader, his chest a bit wider, the muscles on his arms defined even through the simple t-shirt he wore. Yuki found himself glancing over, just for a second, before quickly looking away.

It wasn’t just his body. It was how Liam moved now—more controlled, more sure of himself. The reckless energy that used to make him seem like he was always on the edge of falling apart had been replaced by something steadier, something deeper. There was a quiet confidence in the way Liam held himself now, as though he was no longer trying to outrun everything.

Yuki couldn't help but notice it—notice him.

The way Liam's eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled, or how his lips curved into that smirk Yuki used to know so well. And those eyes... They used to be full of mischief and youth, but now, they were different. There was something in them—something Yuki couldn’t quite place but that he knew was there.

It made Yuki’s chest tighten in a way he wasn’t used to.

He glanced at Liam again, just for a moment, catching a look in Liam’s eyes that was almost unreadable, but definitely not the same as before. It was like there was a quiet curiosity there, something that hadn’t been present when they were younger.

And suddenly, Yuki became painfully aware of how close they were, the way their shoulders brushed as they sat next to each other on the grassy hilltop.

He hadn’t meant to, but he let his gaze drift again. He caught the way the sunlight seemed to highlight the contours of Liam’s jawline, the way his chest rose and fell as he laughed, and he felt an unexpected flutter in his stomach. Yuki’s heart skipped a beat, and he quickly turned his head, looking out at the sunset.

“Stop staring,” he muttered under his breath, but even as he said it, he knew that wasn’t really the problem.

He was aware.

Too aware.

It was strange—having Liam so close, knowing that the boy he used to know so well had changed, and yet still carried some pieces of the past with him. Yuki wasn’t sure how to reconcile the way things were now with the way they used to be.

But one thing was clear: There was something different between them now. Something neither of them had quite addressed, but it was there, just beneath the surface, lurking.

Yuki knew that the look Liam had given him earlier hadn’t been just friendly—it had been something else. Something more.

And as much as Yuki tried to push it away, he couldn’t ignore it. He couldn’t pretend it didn’t affect him, because it did. It affected him more than he cared to admit.

So, he did what he always did when things got complicated—he buried it.

“Alright, alright,” Yuki said, clearing his throat and looking at Liam with a teasing grin. “Enough with the sappy looks, yeah? You’re ruining the sunset for me.”

Liam laughed again, but this time there was a hint of something else in his voice—something Yuki couldn’t place, but that sent a flicker of warmth straight to his chest.

Maybe he wasn’t the only one feeling the shift.

–

The night was thick with unspoken words, the air heavy with something neither of them wanted to name. Okinawa’s quiet buzz seemed to fade into the background as Liam and Yuki sat in the small, dimly lit living room. Everything about the evening felt too real—too final. Tomorrow, Liam would be leaving. He would be back in Austria, back in the factory, preparing for the second half of the Formula 1 season. Yuki, once again, would be left alone, facing the emptiness of his quiet life.

But tonight was the last night. The final night they had together before things went back to how they had always been. It should have been easy—comfortable. They had known each other for years. They should have been able to slip back into their old dynamic. But the silence between them was loud, and the weight of all that had passed between them, all that had been unsaid, sat in the room like an elephant.

Liam stood by the window, his back to Yuki, staring out at the night. He didn’t know what to say. What could he say? His mind was a whirl of thoughts—of memories and the electric tension that had been building between them for years. It was maddening, this distance between them. So much time spent pushing it away, hiding from it. And now, with so little time left, he was struggling to breathe.

Yuki, on the other hand, had been quiet too long. His eyes, which had once been playful, mischievous even, now seemed faraway—guarded, like something was holding him back. But tonight, Yuki knew. He couldn’t stay quiet anymore. The ache in his chest, the longing, the hurt—it was too much. The time they had shared here, these stolen moments, had awakened something in him that he couldn’t ignore.

Yuki stood up abruptly, his movements sharp and decisive. He crossed the room in two long strides, his heart pounding in his chest. Without thinking, he reached for Liam, his hand cupping his face. And then, in a moment of utter recklessness, he kissed him.

It was sudden—unplanned, an impulsive act born of frustration, of desire, of the overwhelming pull between them. It was a clash of lips, a rush of heat, of something that had been building for so long that neither of them could hold it back any longer.

Liam froze for a fraction of a second, his mind scrambling to catch up, to make sense of it. But then it was as if something clicked inside him. He kissed Yuki back, his hands moving to Yuki’s waist, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Yuki’s body was warm, so warm, his lips soft but insistent, as if he had been waiting for this moment, too.

It wasn’t perfect, and it certainly wasn’t careful. The kiss was messy, chaotic, as if their bodies were trying to make up for lost time. Yuki's fingers threaded through Liam’s hair, tugging him closer, and for a brief moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just them, tangled together, caught in the rush of something neither of them was ready for but both had wanted for far too long.

Yuki’s hands slipped under Liam’s shirt, feeling the heat of his skin beneath his fingertips. He groaned softly, his fingers brushing against the hard muscles of Liam’s torso, each touch sending sparks through him. He wanted more—he needed more. Liam’s body was real, solid, and alive beneath his touch. And Yuki couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t stop the way his body reacted to Liam’s.

Liam’s hands moved quickly, almost desperately, tugging at Yuki’s shirt, pulling it off over his head. The moment the fabric came off, Yuki’s tattoos were revealed. The intricate designs stretched across his body like a map of his past—motorsport-related ink, logos of cars he had once driven, and delicate cherry blossoms that symbolized his Japanese roots. Liam’s eyes widened, taking in the sight of Yuki’s body—of the tattoos that marked him as his own, as someone who had lived a life far beyond the simple confines of this small island.

Yuki watched the way Liam’s gaze lingered on his body, the intensity in his eyes making him feel exposed. But it was a good kind of exposure. It was the kind of vulnerability that felt like freedom, the kind that told him that he didn’t have to hide anymore.

Liam’s hands roamed down Yuki’s back, and the touch sent a shiver down his spine. His body reacted to the pressure of Liam’s fingers, his breath coming faster as they stumbled toward the bedroom. It was like they couldn’t get there fast enough, as if the distance between them wasn’t enough. Liam was pulling him closer, urging him forward, until finally, they fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs.

Yuki didn’t hesitate. He kissed Liam again, deeper this time, pulling him closer, feeling the heat of his body. Liam responded with equal intensity, his hands roaming across Yuki’s skin as if trying to memorize every inch of him. They were both lost in the kiss, in the sensation of their bodies colliding, of finally being able to touch, to feel, to express everything they had hidden for so long.

Liam pulled away for a breath, his chest heaving as he looked down at Yuki. His eyes were dark with desire, and Yuki could see the storm brewing inside him. But there was something else there too—a softness, a tenderness that took Yuki by surprise. Liam wasn’t just here for the heat of the moment. He was here, with Yuki, because something deeper had been awakened.

Yuki pulled him back down, not wanting to break the contact. He didn’t want to stop. He wanted to feel Liam’s hands on him, his lips on his skin, forever. But before they could continue, Yuki paused, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

“Liam,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t keep pretending. Not anymore.”

Liam looked at him, confusion flickering in his eyes, but Yuki could see the understanding in them too. He could feel it in the way their bodies were pressed together, in the way the air between them had shifted. They were no longer just friends, no longer just two people sharing a space. They were something more. And for the first time in a long time, Yuki didn’t want to run away from it.

He kissed Liam again, pulling him back into the abyss, into the overwhelming tide of desire and longing that had been building for years. Neither of them had the strength to fight it anymore.

They tumbled into the night, their bodies tangled together, lost in each other. Yuki’s hands roamed over Liam’s body, feeling the rough edges of muscle and skin, tracing the lines that had hardened over the years. His fingers traced the scars and the tattoos, feeling the marks that told the story of Liam’s life. And Liam, in turn, explored every inch of Yuki’s body, his touch tender but insistent.

For the first time, there were no barriers between them. No hesitation. No walls. Just two bodies, entwined, the bared skin intertwined with the tattoo-covered one, falling into the abyss of everything they had been hiding for so long.

And as they kissed, as they gave in to the heat between them, Yuki knew—this wasn’t just a goodbye. It was the beginning of something new. Something neither of them had ever expected, but both had needed all along.

Their bodies moved together, a symphony of passion and need, and neither of them was willing to stop until the world outside no longer existed. Until all that remained was this—this moment, this feeling, this connection that neither of them could deny.

–

The room was still, save for the occasional sound of the wind brushing against the windows. The night had fallen deeper, the only light now a faint glow from the streetlights outside. The chaos of earlier had subsided, leaving an overwhelming sense of peace.

Liam and Yuki lay tangled beneath the soft, worn blanket, their bodies spent and warm. They had cleaned up, both moving in quiet synchrony as if they were scared that even the slightest movement might break the delicate air between them. But now, in the aftermath, all that remained was the comfort of being close.

Liam lay behind Yuki, his chest pressed gently against Yuki's back, his arm draped across his side. Yuki’s body, small but firm, fit perfectly against him. He could feel Yuki’s breath, steady and deep, as if he were still processing everything that had just happened. Liam closed his eyes for a moment, his hand unconsciously moving up and down Yuki’s arm, soothing and rhythmic.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight of everything—the miles, the months apart, the years of unspoken words—seemed to lift. In this small moment, everything felt right. The reality of the night had settled, and now there was only silence. The comfortable kind, the kind that allowed both of them to exist without the need for words.

But the silence between them grew too heavy, and Liam could no longer ignore the turmoil swirling in his chest. He needed to say it. He needed to speak his truth. He had never been good at these kinds of moments, the delicate ones where emotions ran deeper than anything he had ever known.

With a deep breath, Liam shifted just slightly, his face burying itself into the crook of Yuki's neck. He inhaled deeply, the scent of Yuki’s skin mingling with the fresh scent of the ocean breeze that lingered in the room. He let his breath steady, his hand gently brushing against Yuki’s side.

“Yuki,” Liam began, his voice softer than usual. “I don’t think you understand what this—what tonight—means to me.” He hesitated, feeling his heart beat faster, like a racing car ready to take off. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel like everything is different now. Everything we’ve been pretending—it’s like we’ve both been running from it. From what we really feel.”

Yuki remained quiet for a moment, and Liam wasn’t sure if he was listening or if the words had startled him. But then Yuki shifted, rolling just enough so that his back was to Liam, his face half hidden in the pillow. But Liam could feel the tension in his shoulders, the way he stiffened as if he was bracing himself for something.

“I think I’ve known for a long time,” Yuki said quietly, his voice low but steady. “But... I’ve been scared. Scared to admit it. Because if I do, it means things can never go back to how they were. And part of me... part of me doesn’t know if I can handle that.”

Liam’s heart skipped a beat. He had been so caught up in his own thoughts, his own feelings, that he hadn’t stopped to consider Yuki’s fears. He could feel the uncertainty in Yuki’s words, and it hit him hard. The truth was, neither of them had ever been good at confronting what they really felt. They had danced around it, pretended it didn’t matter.

Liam reached out, his hand settling gently on Yuki’s waist, pulling him a little closer. His touch was soft, almost reverent. “Yuki, I...” He didn’t know how to continue. The words felt too big to fit into the space between them, but he couldn’t back down now. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to go back to the way things were before. I can’t.”

There was a long pause, one that stretched on for what felt like an eternity. The weight of their unspoken truths hung in the air, thick with the things they hadn’t said. Yuki was still, but Liam could feel the faint tremor in his body. He could sense that Yuki was processing everything, considering the weight of Liam’s confession, his own feelings.

Yuki finally turned in his arms, his face now fully visible, his expression unreadable but gentle. “I don’t know what to do with this,” he whispered. “With us. I’ve always thought of you as my best friend. But this... this is different.”

Liam's thumb brushed gently against Yuki's skin, his gaze locked on his eyes. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “We don’t have to figure everything out right now. But I can’t go back to pretending I don’t care. Not after tonight. Not after everything we’ve shared.”

Yuki’s eyes softened, and for a moment, Liam thought he might say something more. But instead, Yuki closed the gap between them, his lips pressing against Liam’s in a quiet kiss. It wasn’t desperate like the first, but it was still full of the same urgency, the same emotion. Yuki’s lips were soft against his, and as they kissed, Liam felt everything they hadn’t said—everything they had been too scared to admit—finally begin to unravel.

When they pulled away, there was an understanding between them. Unspoken, but clear. They didn’t need to have all the answers. They didn’t need to figure out the future right now. But tonight, here, in this small bed, in the comfort of the warmth they had created together, they could simply be.

Liam’s hand moved to Yuki’s cheek, his thumb brushing over his skin, his heart full of something he couldn’t name, but it felt like home. “I’m not going anywhere, Yuki,” Liam whispered, his voice full of sincerity. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

Yuki’s gaze softened, his hand resting over Liam’s chest, where his heartbeat was still racing. “I don’t know what tomorrow holds, Liam,” he said quietly. “But for tonight... I’m here. With you. And that’s enough.”

And with that, they lay there, wrapped in the comfort of each other’s arms, knowing that whatever came next, they had taken the first step. Together.

–

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting soft beams across the room. The air felt different today—more fragile, like it was holding its breath. The events of the night before seemed to have changed everything, though neither of them had spoken much about it in the hours that followed. Now, as the sun rose higher, it was time to face the reality of the inevitable. Liam had to leave. The season would continue, and he had commitments to fulfill in Europe.

Yuki was already up, packing a small bag with a few things, his movements deliberate but slower than usual. He seemed lost in his thoughts, his gaze distant as he folded clothes into his suitcase. Liam watched him from the bed, lying on his back, arms behind his head. He didn’t know what to say. The words felt inadequate, but he knew this moment had to come.

The silence was heavy, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that lingered when two people had finally come to terms with what they felt but didn’t yet know how to say it out loud.

After a while, Yuki turned toward him, his expression unreadable, but there was a softness in his eyes. “I’ll walk you to the airport,” Yuki said quietly, breaking the silence.

Liam nodded, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. “Thanks, Yuki.” His voice was thick with emotion, but he couldn’t help it. Saying goodbye always felt like an impossibility, especially now. Not when everything had changed.

The drive to the airport was quiet, the hum of the motorcycle engine beneath them the only sound as they made their way through the streets of the small island. Yuki’s leather jacket fluttered slightly in the wind, and for the briefest moment, Liam wondered if they could just drive forever—if they could escape the reality that was waiting for them on the other side.

When they arrived, Yuki parked the bike and turned off the engine, the soft clink of the key as he pulled it from the ignition ringing in the still air. Neither of them spoke immediately, both of them knowing the end was near. It was the kind of goodbye that neither of them was ready for.

They stood for a moment, the silence between them now a heavy weight that neither wanted to carry. Liam’s chest tightened, the realization that this was the last time he would see Yuki for a while settling deep within him. His hand instinctively reached out, and before he could stop himself, he pulled Yuki into a tight hug.

Yuki’s arms wrapped around him just as quickly, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The world around them felt far away, like nothing existed except the two of them in that single embrace. Liam could feel Yuki’s heart beating against his chest, steady and strong, and it gave him the strength he needed to say the words that had been swirling in his mind all morning.

“I’ll miss you,” Liam whispered, his voice thick. “I don’t know when I’ll see you again, but I’ll make sure to contact you. I promise.”

Yuki pulled back just slightly, his hands on Liam’s shoulders, eyes meeting his with a softness that made Liam’s heart ache. “I’ll miss you too,” Yuki said, his voice steady, but there was a trace of something deeper in his words. “We’ll figure it out. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Liam chuckled softly, though it felt like it was born out of nerves more than humor. “You better not. I don’t know if I could handle that.”

Yuki smiled, a small, knowing smile that made Liam’s chest tighten. “We’ll see each other again. When the time is right.”

Liam nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat. He had to let go, he knew that. But it didn’t make it any easier. He took a deep breath and offered Yuki a small smile, trying to mask the feeling that threatened to overwhelm him.

“You better take care of yourself, Yuki,” Liam said quietly. “Promise me you won’t work yourself too hard. I don’t want you burning out on me.”

Yuki raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk. “You’re one to talk. You drive race cars for a living. Don’t tell me you’re not pushing yourself to the limit every single day.”

Liam laughed softly, his hand resting briefly on Yuki’s arm. “Touché. I guess we both have our ways of taking things too far.”

Yuki’s expression softened again, and he placed a hand on Liam’s chest, just over his heart. “Take care, Liam. I’ll be here, waiting for when the time comes to see you again.”

Liam smiled, his throat tightening once more. He stepped back, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He had to go now. He didn’t want to drag it out any longer than necessary.

But before he could turn to walk into the airport, Yuki’s voice stopped him. “Hey, Liam.”

He turned, looking back over his shoulder at Yuki.

“You’re always welcome here,” Yuki said with a slight nod, the weight of his words settling between them. “No matter where you go. Just remember that.”

Liam’s heart swelled, and without thinking, he crossed the small distance between them and pulled Yuki into another quick hug, holding him tightly for just a moment longer. He could feel Yuki’s warmth, his steady heartbeat, and for a brief second, he wished they could freeze this moment in time.

“I’ll be back,” Liam said, his voice resolute.

Yuki didn’t respond with words, but instead, gave him a small smile, the kind that spoke volumes more than any sentence ever could. The promise was made, not with grand gestures, but with the quiet understanding between them.

As Liam turned and walked toward the airport, he didn’t look back, but the weight of Yuki’s presence lingered with him. He knew, deep down, that this wasn’t goodbye. It was simply the beginning of something they had both been too afraid to admit.

And when the time came, they would find their way back to each other. They had to. Because this—what they shared—was too real to let slip away.

[brucethewannabebard]

Hero of the Story

They say that everyone is the hero of their own story. Which when you look at what is meant by that phrase, is true. But I think the problem people have with is the use of the word “hero”. After all, I doubt many of us feel very heroic most days. I sometimes question if those we look to as heroes; whether current or historical, really saw themselves that way. I am sure at least some did. But I wonder how many felt like me. Like they were just muddling through this life as best they could, til they finally found something that moved them in a way that they had no choice but to act. 

Our civil rights leaders I imagine didn’t see themselves as heroes, but as common men and women who just couldn’t stand the thought of their kids having to fight because they didn’t. I like to think they knew it was important, but did any of them really walk in those crowds and consider themselves heroic? Or did they just see a wrong that needed to be right? What about the people who run towards disaster? The ones who charge into burning buildings, or a car crash, whether it is their job or not? Do all of them do it thinking they are going to be a hero? Surely at least some just did what they knew needed to be done. Or those people donating their time and effort to charities? As a collective they can accomplish wonderful things within the right organization, and really change the world. But when they lay down in bed at night do they feel like a hero?

People are all different, and so I am sure there are just as many who feel that way as don’t. But then there are several who probably feel they are who have done nothing to justify that feeling at all. I guess it is all about how you choose to view yourself. Maybe the problem is really that most people just don’t have a hero that they can relate to their own lives. For some people they have a close friend or family member that they would call a hero. But then if they do the same things that person did they tend to downplay themselves. Whether it be a father doing his best just like his dad before him, or an athlete who is an endless inspiration to others but looks up to his mom who always believed in him and took him to practice as a kid. Heroics can take on almost as many forms was there are people too, but we don’t always recognize them. Because in the stories everything has more context. 

When you watch a movie, or read a book, or experience a story in any other medium, we have the context of a beginning and end. We only get the parts that inform the character and plot. that reinforce themes.Many people go through trauma or events that they can parallel to the heroes, but without the clear vision of an outside observer. When we suffer we rarely see the virtue in the struggle that we love characters for getting through. We rarely view their suffering in the same way we see our own, and so we pretend that our overcoming it or ongoing battles with it somehow are not the same as the heroes. We also rarely if ever get a day to day. what those people were like outside of the high stress times. Even many of our histories of heroes have this same flaw. Painting them are great men and women, but some how forgetting to underline the fact that they were just men and women. Not gods, not super powered, not titans. Just people doing what they could. 

So yeah, I may not have done anything particularly heroic. I haven’t saved a life to my knowledge, nor have I gone out and changed the world. But maybe I am just not at the part of the story yet where I do the thing that makes me a hero. Maybe I am still in the early stages. Fordo wasn’t a hero to himself until the journey was complete and you could view all his effort with the context of his struggle. Even then he saw the virtue of others more than his own. All along the way he complained that he didn’t feel he was the right one for this, that he wishes it could be someone else, that it wasn’t like it was in the stories. But he was wrong. Because all a hero really does is keep going and trying. So maybe this last year of being beaten down, and broken and abandoned isn’t the proof that I am not good enough like I first thought. Maybe, just maybe, it is my darkest hour and nothing more. Maybe this suffering is just my time spent running from a spider in a cave with a treacherous wretch who wants to see me fail. And if that is the case, then maybe I just need to hold on long enough for my Sam to show up and help me finish the quest.

If I can do that, maybe then I can reach the end and come out the other side having done something worth living for. Probably not saving the entire world of men, but something more subtle. Something that when I do die, I can look back on and say “I did that”, and go without regret. 

[hecksupremechips]

Thinking of vlr Akane is so conflicting cuz on one hand I’m so upset that she doesn’t ever get a moment to just rest and enjoy being alive again I’m upset that she just gets deeper and deeper into this role she’s built for herself and she loses her humanity and will never ever be that girl who died in the incinerator. But on the other hand, I need her to get so, so much worse I need her to be so obsessed with perfection she has this unique ability to change the course of history and she will burn everything and everyone to the ground in the blink of an eye if it means she can "reset" and get a perfect timeline and I desperately need her to never be satisfied with anything because really, is there anything that’s worth all the damage she’s caused?