#always do your own research when you can!

[requiemforthepoets]

stickwitu 𖦹 LN4

PAIRING: lando norris x female!asian!reader

SUMMARY: despite coming from a very wealthy and deeply-rooted traditional background—where family always comes first, your relationship with lando is fully embraced by most of your family, though the very complex dynamics of old-money family expectations often creates tension, causing lando to rethink everything.

REMINDER: 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: no use of y/n, reader is asian, foul language, minor mention of violence (punching), traditional family, google translated chinese, crazy rich asian inspired + plot, heiress reader, named character (except reader, names are mostly taken from CRA), asian culture & tradition, social status, high society, brief mentions of verbal abuse, anxiety, overthinking, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 20.4k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: okay, before anything else, i wanted to say first and foremost that i’m asian (southeast girlie), so i’m not asian baiting 🥹 and i have many chinese friends to the point i’m familiar with their culture and tradition, but mostly the reference is from and follows the plot line of crazy rich asians—which is my fav book trilogy, but i also did insert my own preference and did my research so that i can properly write this fic better. this is a long fic, bc i added as much details as i could and this is not even finished yet, i still have 2-3 parts in my draft, but somehow i’m satisfied with the end, but let me know if you want me to continue this one. your comment/reblogs is very highly appreciated. okay, that’s enough yapping for me, i hope you’ll enjoy reading this!

You had just touched down in Dubai, the December heat had brushed against your skin as you stepped outside the terminal. It had been a hectic week—first, spending time in Sweden with your family, soaking in the peacefulness of the snowy countryside, and now, diving headfirst into the chaos of Abu Dhabi for the final race of the 2024 season.

Honestly, there wasn’t much time to catch your breath. The car was already waiting for you to drive you to the circuit, while your bags will be brought to the hotel. You had reserved a separate room just in case, but knowing Lando, you both can sort out the details later when you return for the evening.

The drive to Yas Marina Circuit was uneventful, the familiar mix of nerves and excitement bubbling in your chest. Lando had texted you earlier, letting you know he was already in the McLaren garage preparing for the qualifying session. He knew your schedule had been tight and didn’t mind that you were running late, as long as you made it in time. Lando also mentioned you would be watching the session with his family—Cisca, Adam, and his youngest sister Cisca, who shared her mother’s name.

Once you arrived at the paddock, you pulled out the lanyard holding your pass, the one Lando had sent ahead before your trip to Sweden. It had been very thoughtful of him to arrange everything in advance, ensuring your arrival would be seamless. As you walked through the entrance, you felt the familiar surge of attention—cameras flashing, fans calling out for you. Despite having attended very few races this season, you still weren’t used to the buzz surrounding the wags.

Fans of Lando waved enthusiastically as you made your way through the paddock, and you waved back shyly with a polite smile. A few asked for photos, and you happily obliged, pausing briefly for snapshots with those who looked the most excited. Some handed you small gifts like friendship bracelets, bucket hats, and a few letters addressed to Lando.

“We made these for him! Can you please give them to him?” one of the fans asked eagerly.

“I’ll make sure that he gets them.” you promised, and carefully tucking the items in one of the tote bags, then the fans thanked you profusely.

As you continued your way toward the McLaren garage, you spotted a familiar figure—Kym Illman, camera in hand. Kym had always been kind to you, and the two of you had exchanged pleasantries during the previous races. He raised his camera and motioned towards you with a questioning look, silently asking for permission to take a photo of you. Unsure of how to pose, you gave a small, slightly awkward smile. At that moment, a gentle breeze swept through the paddock, catching your hair perfectly. Kym lowered the camera and grinned, giving you a thumbs-up.

“It is a very beautiful shot.” he said as you passed by.

“Thank you.” you replied with a laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

The McLaren garage wasn’t far now. The hum of engines, faint smell of rubber, and buzz of team radios filled the air as you approached. You hoped to catch Lando before the qualifying session began.

When you arrived at the McLaren garage, the whole place was in full swing—mechanics fine tuning the car, and engineers analyzing the datas. Despite only attending a handful of races this season, the whole team knew exactly who you were. Smiles greeted you from all corners, with some of the team members even giving you a playful thumbs-up.

“Look who’s here! Lando’s lucky charm.” one of the members teased, earning a chorus of lighthearted laughs from the surrounding crew.

You couldn’t help but smile at the nickname that you had heard before. It seemed that your presence at races had coincided with Lando’s wins throughout the season—Miami, Netherlands, and Singapore. The whole McLaren team had adopted the idea that you brought him good fortune.

“I’m not sure about that,” you replied modestly and smiled, holding up the tote bag filled with letters and small gifts. “But I do come bearing express mail for Lando.”

The team chuckled at your remark, their fondness for you were really evident. One of the mechanics had jokingly asked if Lando had hired you as his personal courier, but before you could respond, you saw Jon calling out to him.

Lando was standing a few feet away, deep in conversation with one of the mechanics. At the mention of your arrival, his head turned instantly, and his face lit up in recognition. He strode over quickly, his race suit tied casually at his waist and his fireproofs clinging to his frame. Lando’s smile was warm and genuine as he closed the gap between you.

“You made it.” he said, tone laced with a mixture of relief and happiness.

“I did,” you replied, smiling back at him. “Sorry for cutting it so close.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Lando assured you, his voice soft. “You’re here, and that’s all that matters.”

“Is that…?” he added and squinted.

“Your fans’ stuff,” you confirmed with a grin. “Letters, drawings, maybe some snacks. They handed it over on my way here, and I promised that I’ll get them to you.”

Lando chuckled, the sound warm and relaxed. “Of course they did. Thanks for bringing it.”

“Anytime,” you smiled, and shifted the conversation. “Where’s your family? I should head over to them before quali starts.”

“They’re just outside,” he said, nodding towards the outside. “They’re excited to see you again, especially C. She’s been asking about you since Zandvoort.”

Lando’s fondness for his younger sister was clear in his tone, and it always made you smile. Before you could respond, one of the staff approached Lando, telling him that it was time to start gearing up.

“Here, I’ll help you.” you said as you stepped closer to Lando.

You instinctively reached for the half of his race suit, helping him pull the fabric up to secure it over his shoulders. You made sure that every strap and seam was in place, your fingers moving with practiced precision. You double checked the straps on his HANS device, ensuring everything was in place.

“Strapped in and ready to go.” you said softly, fingers brushing his shoulder as you stepped back.

Lando didn’t move away immediately. Instead, his hands found your waist, his touch was light but grounding. He leaned in slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a familiar warmth.

“Kiss for luck?” he asked, tone a little bit playful but sincere.

You happily obliged, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. As you pulled back, you added a second kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering just a moment longer.

“Good luck out there, my champ.” you whispered.

Lando’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a hug. His face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing.

“Stay close, okay?” he murmured, his voice barely audible above the garage noise. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” you smiled as you caressed his back softly. “Be safe out there, okay?”

You gently tapped his back to let him know it was time to go. Lando straightened up, giving you one last lingering look before heading towards his car. Jon appeared at your side, ready to escort you to where his family was waiting.

“Come on,” Jon said with a smile. “Let’s get you settled.” He led the way and you followed.

As you followed Jon, the faint hum of conversation and the clinking of tools fading into the background, he glanced at you with a warm smile.

“It’s good to see you again,” Jon said, tons light and genuine. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

You nodded, returning his smile. “It has. The last time was Singapore, I think?”

“That sounds about right,” Jon agreed, then chuckled softly. “You know, Lando’s been counting down the days since you told him you’d be here. He hasn’t shut up about it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at what he said, a mix of amusement and affection spreading across your face. “Has he, now?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Jon continued, a teasing glint evident in his eyes. “The second he got that text from you, he was grinning like a kid on christmas morning. Every day after that, it was, ‘Do you think she’s really coming? What if she missed my race?’”

You smiled fondly. “I told him I’d be here today, no matter what. I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

Jon nodded, his expression softening. “He knows that. Lando just really missed you, I think the last few weeks have felt longer than usual for him.”

There was this warmth that you began to feel in your chest, and you glanced down for a moment, feeling a bit shy under Jon’s kind gaze.

“I’ve missed him, too. It’s been a very busy year for the both of us.” you sighed.

Jon nodded knowingly. “I can imagine. Between your work and everything with your family, it must feel like you’re always being pulled in a hundred different directions.”

You let out yet again another small sigh, pace slowing just slightly as you responded. “It does get a bit overwhelming sometimes. My family always has something going on, and as the only daughter, well…let’s just say there are certain expectations.”

To those people who truly know you, there is no denying that you were born into a world of luxury and expectations, where wealth was not merely a privilege but a legacy. To the public eye, you are known simply as Lando Norris’ girlfriend, the quiet yet sophisticated partner of the Formula 1 star. A strikingly gorgeous young woman whose life seemed to orbit the vibrant universe of the McLaren driver. But to these people who moved in the shadows of high society, those who deeply understood the intricate web of power and legacy within Asia’s upper echelons, knew better.

You were an heiress to two of the most prominent and affluent families in Southeast Asia. A woman born not merely into massive wealth, but into legacy, responsibility, and the unrelenting expectations of old money.

Your father’s family were the pinnacle of Singapore’s old money elite. Their fortune, amassed over generations through banking, real estate, trade, and monopoly of palm oil, it had not only survived but flourished in the modern era. Your mother’s lineage, although equally stories and affluent, paled in comparison to the vast empire your father’s family presided over.

You were born the youngest and only daughter in a family dominated by male cousins and brothers, an anomaly in a lineage often associated with patriarchal values. This made you a darling in your grandmother’s eyes, a singular beacon of grace and femininity in a sea of potential heirs. They adored you, lavishing you with attention and grooming you from a young age to carry the family’s mantle with such poise.

Your life was a delicate balancing act. While your family taught you to embrace privilege, they instilled in you a deep understanding of responsibility. Money was not to be spent flippantly, power was not to be flaunted, and fame was to be avoided unless it served a greater purpose. Unlike some of your cousins—whose reckless behavior often flirted with scandal and making their privilege a playground, you were a model of decorum. Never appeared in any tabloid headlines, never indulged in public extravagance, and always carried yourself with the grace befitting a young woman of your stature.

He tilted his head sympathetically. “And you balance all of that on top of everything else? No wonder Lando’s so proud of you.”

Jon’s words had caught you off guard, and you felt your cheeks warm slightly. “He said that?”

“All the time,” Jon replied, his smile never fading. “He brags about you more than you probably realize. How hardworking you are, how you always seem to manage everything with such grace. Lando’s your biggest fan, you know.”

The sincerity in Jon’s voice brought a soft smile to your lips. “That really means a lot.”

“Well, it’s true,” Jon said simply. Then, with a gentle nudge towards ahead, he added, “and speaking of people who adore you, Lando’s family is just up there. I know they’ve been really looking forward to seeing you too.”

You glanced toward the familiar faces waiting to see you again in the designated seating area, feeling a wave of warmth and comfort at the sight.

“Thank you, Jon.” You said, tone sincere.

“Anytime,” he replied, stepping aside to let you continue forward. “Enjoy the qualifying, and don’t stress out too much, he’ll do great, especially with you here.”

You gave him a grateful nod before making your way towards Lando’s family. After the little talk you had with Jon, it made you feel a sense of calm as the conversation replayed in your mind.

As soon as you stepped into the designated seating area, Cisca—Lando’s youngest sister, spotted you and she smiled instantly. Her face broke into a wide smile, and before you could say a word, she was already rushing towards you, arms outstretched.

“You’re here!” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms tightly around you. “I’ve missed you so much!”

You laughed softly, hugging her back just as tight. “I’ve missed you too, C! It feels like forever since I’ve seen you.”

She pulled back slightly, still holding onto your hands as her eyes sparkled with excitement. “It has been forever! The last time was in the Netherlands, right? That was ages ago!”

“It really was,” you agreed, nodding. “How have you been? How’s everything at uni?”

Her expression turned slightly more serious, though her enthusiasm didn’t dissipate. “Busy, but good. I’ve been swamped with assignments, but it’s not too bad. It’s so nice to take a break and be here for the weekend.”

You smiled. “I’m glad you could come, I’ve missed seeing you so much.”

Cisca’s grin widened, and she squeezed your hands again. “It’s not the same without you here. Oh!” Her expression shifted slightly, as if she had just remembered something. “Flo couldn’t make it, though. She’s stuck in the UK with work stuff. She’s really sad about missing this race.”

Your shoulders slumped slightly in disappointment. “Oh no, that’s a shame. I was looking forward to seeing her too.”

“She said she’ll definitely call you, though!” Cisca assured you. “And she made me promise to give you a big hug from her, so—” she threw her arms around you again, squeezing dramatically.

You laughed, hugging her back. “Well, make sure to tell her I missed her too, okay?”

“Will do,” Cisca said brightly, looping her arm through yours. “Come on, Mum and Dad have been dying to see you.”

She guided you toward the rest of the family, where Adam and Cisca—Lando’s mother, were seated. The moment they saw you, their faces lit up with happiness, and they both stood up to greet you.

“Finally!” Cisca said, pulling you into a warm hug. “It’s been far too long, dear. How have you been?”

You smiled, returning her embrace. “I’ve been good, just keeping busy as usual. It’s so nice to see you again, though. I’ve missed you all.”

Adam was next, wrapping you in his own hug. “We’ve missed you too,” he said with genuine warmth. “It’s not often we get to catch up with you these days.”

“I know,” you said, pulling back to look at them. “It’s been way too long. How have you all been?”

“Busy as always,” Cisca replied, her tone light. “But we’ve been keeping up with Lando and with you, whenever he mentions you. He’s been so excited for you to be here this weekend.”

You smiled shyly, feeling a familiar warmth in your chest. “I’ve been looking forward to it, too. It’s such a big weekend for him, and I wouldn’t want to miss it for anything.”

“Exactly what he said about you coming,” Adam added, his smile deepening. “You’ve always been his lucky charm, you know.”

Your cheeks warmed at Adam’s comment. Cisca then motioned for everyone to sit back down. “Let’s sit and catch up before things get underway.”

Settling into the seat they saved for you, and the conversation began flowing naturally as they asked how you had been, about your family, and how your trip to Abu Dhabi had been so far. Their genuine interest made you feel at home, easing any nervousness you had felt earlier.

The qualifying had soon started, you could hear the roar of the engines and the buzz of the crowd filled the air as the qualifying session began, and you could not ignore the nervous energy swirling inside you. You are sitting with Lando’s family, your hands clasped tightly in your lap as you watch the screens displaying the lap times. Every sector Lando completed brought a new wave of anticipation.

Adam leaned closer to you, his voice low but reassuring. “He’s doing well, isn’t he? Look at those times.”

You nodded, unable to take your eyes off the screen. “He is, but it’s so close. Ferrari’s right there.”

Lando’s little sister gripped your arm excitedly. “Don’t worry, he’s got this. He’s been in such good form all weekend, he always does better when you’re here.”

You gave her a small smile, her confidence was comforting. “I hope so. This race means so much for McLaren, and for him.”

When Lando crossed the line with the fastest time in the final moments of Q3, the garage erupted in cheers. His name flashed at the top of the leaderboard, with Oscar right behind him in P2. A front-row lockout for McLaren for tomorrow’s main race. Relief and pride washed over you, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding.

“He did it!” Cisca cheered, jumping out of her seat. She hugged you. “You must be so proud of him.”

“I am.” You admitted softly, your voice filled with emotions.

Adam stood up, motioning for everyone to head down the barricades. “Come on, let’s go congratulate him.”

All of you made your way through the bustling paddock and found a spot at the side of the parc fermé, where Lando and Oscar had already parked their cars. Lando had just stepped out of his car, removing his helmet and running a hand through his damp curls. You could see the exhilaration on his face as he congratulated Oscar, the two exchanging words and pats on the back.

The media reporter quickly surrounded Lando for a post-qualifying interview. You waited patiently, your heart swelling with pride as you watched him speak confidently. His excitement was contagious, and you yourself couldn't stop smiling.

As soon as his interview wrapped up, his mother called out to him. “Lando!”

The reporter gestured toward the barricade where you and his family stood. Lando’s eyes immediately found you, his face lighting up even more. Without any hesitation, he walked over.

“Hi, Mum. Hi, Dad.” he greeted, pulling both of his parents into a hug. Adam clapped him on the back proudly.

“Well done, son!” Adam said. “That was brilliant.”

“Thanks dad.” Lando replied, grinning.”

Lando then turned towards his younger sister, who threw her arms around him. “Pole position! You’re amazing!”

He laughed, hugging her tightly. “Thanks, Cis. I couldn’t let you down, could I?”

Finally, his gaze landed on you. Lando’s smile softened, and stepped towards, wrapping his arms around you without a word. You felt his body relax against your as you hugged him back, fingers lightly brushing the back of his neck.

“Congratulations, my love.” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the noise around you.

Lando didn’t reply immediately, he just held you tighter, his face buried in the crook of your neck. The embrace lingered, and you heard his younger sister and mother giggling beside you.

“You two are so cute!” his younger sister teased.

Cisca was also quick to join. “Stay just like that for a second.”

You heard a faint sound of a camera click and already knew that she had taken a photo. Lando finally pulled back, just enough to look at you, his hand resting on your waist.

“Thanks for being here,” he said quietly, his eyes locked on yours. “It means everything.”

You smiled, brushing a stray curl off his forehead. “Of course, I wouldn’t miss it.”

Lando leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Before you could let out a response, a team member called for Lando, reminding him that he needed to go and receive the pole position award.

“Go,” you said softly, giving him an encouraging nod. “I’ll be right here when you get back.”

He smiled and gave your waist a quick and gentle squeeze. Lando turned and jogged towards Oscar, where they walked together to receive their award, leaving you with his family, who were all grinning from ear to ear.

Later that evening, you all went out for dinner. The dinner with Lando’s family was warm and celebratory, one that’s filled with laughter and easy conversation. After the plates were cleared and goodbyes exchanged, you and Lando made your way back to the hotel, his hand resting lightly on your lower back, guiding you towards the car.

The car ride back to the hotel was quiet, a comfortable silence that comes after a day full of emotions and celebration. Lando’s hand rested lightly on your knee, his thumb gently tracing small circles through the fabric of your skirt. He glanced at you, expression soft and content.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low and warm.

You nodded, offering a small smile. “Yeah, just tired. It’s been a long day.”

Lando smiled back, squeezing your knee lightly. “I’m glad that you were here, though. Made everything all better.”

When you arrived at the hotel, the soft hum of classical music played in the background, and you approached the concierge desk to sort out your room. Lando stood beside you, both hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, watching as you spoke with the staff.

“Hello, good evening,” you began politely, offering a small smile. “I’d like to make a change to my booking. I’ll be staying with him instead.” You gestured toward Lando, who gave the concierge a friendly nod.

The concierge returned your smile. “Of course, Miss. Let me pull up your reservation.”

As the staff worked, Lando leaned in closer, his voice low and teasing as he put an arm around your waist, pulling you gently towards him. “You could’ve just stayed with me from the start, you know. No need for all this extra work.”

You turned to him with a small smirk. “I didn’t want to assume, Mr. Norris. What if you wanted your own space to focus?”

Lando chuckled, his hand gently squeezed your waist. “You’re my focus, you should already know that by now.”

The concierge handed you a confirmation slip, smiling as they spoke. “It’s all sorted, Miss. We’ve removed the extra booking, and your luggage will be sent up to the suite shortly. Is there anything else you need?”

“No, that’s perfect. Thank you so much.” You said.

His hand made its way to your lower back, as he began guiding you towards the elevators. “Shall we?”

You both made your way up in the elevator, the quiet hum of the machinery filling up the silence. The elevator dinged, and the doors opened to your floor. Lando led the way to the suite, unlocking the door and holding it open for you. The room was spacious and luxurious, with a view of the glittering Dubai skyline. Your luggage was already neatly placed near the wardrobe.

Lando removed his shoes and tossed them off somewhere in the room, and turned to you. “Home for the night.” he said, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

You smiled, stepping further into the room. “Not bad for a last minute arrangement.”

“Nothing but only the best for you.” he grinned. Lando wasted no time tossing himself onto the bed. “Finally. This bed feels like heaven.”

You set your bag gently on the table and slipped off your heels, wincing slightly as your feet adjusted. Lando peeked up from the pillow, watching you with a soft smile.

“Come here,” he said, stretching out his arms towards you, voice laced with exhaustion but still soft. “I need you.”

You chuckled at his eagerness, but the invitation was too tempting to resist. Padding over to the bed, you climbed gently beside him, and when you settled in, his arms wrapped securely around you, pulling you flush against him.

Lando buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin as his fingers idly traced patterns along your waist. The weight of his embrace was grounding, and you both simply stayed there, enveloped in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.

For a moment, neither of you had said anything. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside and the occasional sound of his breathing. It was a rare moment of peace amidst the chaos of his race weekend.

“So,” he began, pressing little kisses on your shoulders. “How was Sweden? Did you have fun?”

“I did, and it was wonderful. Dad was asking about you, actually.” you said.

“Oh?” Lando’s tone lifted with interest. “What did he say?”

You smiled faintly. “He wanted to know when you’d be joining us again because, and I quote, ‘I need someone under forty to keep me entertained on the golf course.’”

Lando chuckled. “I’ll need to work on my swing. Your dad takes it so seriously, and I can’t embarrass myself again.”

You laughed, the memory of their last game played in your mind. “He still talks about the time you hit the ball into the lake.”

“Hey, that was a strategic move,” Lando teased, tightening his arms around you slightly. “But it’s good to know that you had fun. What else did you do?”

You sighed, tone shifting slightly. “I got to see my nieces and nephews. They’ve all grown so much, it’s crazy how time flies.”

Lando tilted his head, sensing the change in your voice. “But?”

You hesitated, fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. “It’s just, it felt different. Alexander wasn’t there.”

He did not say anything, not interrupting and letting you speak your thoughts as he held you close.

“It doesn’t feel right, you know?” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “The family’s not complete without him. It’s been years, but every time we’re all together, his absence is so obvious and I fucking hate it.”

Lando kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he softly said. “I know how much that hurts you.”

You nodded, eyes closing as you let yourself feel the comfort of his presence. “I just wish things could go back to how they were before. But I know that’s impossible.”

“He’s my brother, you know? No matter what happened with my Dad, he’s still family. It just feels so unfair, like he was cut out of all of our lives over something he couldn’t control.” you continued. “I don’t know, it’s just hard. Being with everyone in Sweden reminded me how much I miss him.”

Your father’s family were notorious for their obsession with discretion. Your father had made it abundantly clear that the family name was sacrosanct, a legacy to be protected no matter what cost. Scandals—no matter how small, were intolerable, and your upbringing reflected this philosophy. Among your siblings, the family dynamic had always been a complex one, you and your three older brothers were raised with a rigid sense of propriety, each word, actions, and even the company you kept was scrutinized.

Your eldest brother, Harrison Jr., is a lawyer and married to Katherine Yeo, a member of the influential Yeo family, and a partner of Singapore’s most prestigious law firm. Your second brother, Christopher, is a renowned doctor and married to Isabelle Lim, a member of the influential Lim family, a family that has big influence when it comes to the field of medicine.

Then there’s Alexander. Alexander is your third brother, who had to bear the brunt of defying these expectations. His decision to marry a woman your father deemed a commoner or beneath your social status resulted in his disownment and disinheritance—a decision that greatly affected the whole family. Yet, he remained close to you, valuing your bond over the rigid expectations of your father.

From the perspective of an outsider, your father is a paragon of dignity and control. But within the confines of your family’s estates, your father is a strict and controlling patriarch, a man whose word is final. For him, every decision—no matter how personal, is weighed against its potential impact on the family’s image.

Relationships, in very particular, are heavily scrutinized. Your father despises out-of-wedlock unions and views any romantic involvement with someone beneath your family’s status as a betrayal of tradition and status. His stance is not merely theoretical, it is absolute. This was most painfully evident when your father disowned and disinherited Alexander for marrying a woman he deemed unworthy of your family name.

For a moment, Lando didn’t say anything, his hand still tracing comforting patterns on your waist. Then he spoke, voice steady. “You love him, and that’s what matters. Even if things aren’t perfect, even if your family isn’t whole, the love you have for him hasn’t gone anywhere. I’m sure he knows that.”

His words struck a chord, and you felt a lump forming in your throat. You nodded, not trusting your voice enough to speak.

Lando kissed the top of your head, his hand slipping up to gently cradle it. “You're amazing, you know that? Your family’s lucky to have you. Alexander’s lucky to have you.”

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped in his warmth, the weight of the day and the conversation slowly fading as his presence calmed you down.

The steady rise and fall of Lando’s breathing filled the room, grounding you as you stayed wrapped in his arms. His warmth and the way he held you so close reminded you of just how much you missed this—missed him. It was moments like these that made the distance and the time apart feel unbearable.

You shifted slightly, looking up at him. His eyes were soft, a little tired from the long day, but they lit up the moment they met yours. He smiles, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, voice low and comforting.

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers playing with the fabric of his shirt. “I’ve been thinking,” you began, voice quiet but steady, “about how much I hate being apart from you. It's just hard sometimes, you know?”

Lando’s expression softened even more, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “I know,” he said quietly. “I hate it too. But we make it work, right? We always do.”

You nodded, taking a steadying breath before continuing. “We do. But it doesn’t have to be this way anymore.”

His brows furrowed slightly, curiosity and a hint of confusion flickering across his face. “What do you mean?”

You sat up a little, propping yourself on your elbows so you could look at him fully. “I was going to tell you earlier, but the day was so hectic, it completely slipped out of my mind,” you admitted, a small and nervous laugh escaping you. “But after the season ends, I’ll be moving to Monaco. To be with you.”

For a moment, Lando just stared at you, his expression blank as if he were processing your words. Then, as the realization hit, his face broke into the brightest smile you had seen all day.

“Wait—are you serious?” he asked, sitting up slightly, his hand framing your face.

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips as you saw the excitement in his eyes. “Yes, I’m serious. I’ve already made arrangements, and I’ll be moving after Christmas. I just wanted it to be a surprise.”

Lando did not waste another second. He pulled you into a deep, loving kiss, his lips warm and firm against yours. When he finally pulled back, his hands still cradling your face, and his grin was unstoppable.

“You’re amazing,” he said, voice filled with genuine happiness. “I can’t believe this. You’re really moving to Monaco?”

“Yes,” you confirmed, laughing softly at his excitement. “I want to be with you, Lan. No more long flights, no more months apart. Just us.”

He kissed you again, softer this time, as if he wanted to savor the moment. “This is the best news I’ve had all year,” he murmured against your lips. “You have no idea how happy you’ve just made me.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks. “I think I do,” you teased, resting your forehead against his.

Lando chuckled, his arms wrapping around you again as he pulled you back down onto the bed. “We’re going to have the best time,” he said, excitement still bubbling over. “I can’t wait to spend time with you everyday. Monaco’s going to feel like home for both of us.”

The two of you stayed like that for a little while longer, wrapped up in each other and the excitement of what was to come. But as the exhaustion of the day began to creep in, you both decided it was time to call it a night.

“Shower?” Lando asked, a playful glint in his eyes as he nudged you gently.

You nodded, stretching a little before getting up. “Only if you promise not to pull some sneaky shit.” you warned, earning a laugh from him.

“No promises.” Lando shot back with a grin, taking both of your hands as the two of you headed towards the bathroom.

The shower was quiet, the steam and warmth washing away the remnants of the day as you leaned against him, your bodies moving in sync. It was intimate and calming—a small but meaningful reminder of what you had to look forward to in the months ahead.

When you finally climbed into bed, Lando pulled you close once more, arms wrapped securely around you. “I love you.” he whispered into the darkness, his voice heavy with sleep but filled with sincerity.

“I love you too.” you whispered back, closing your eyes.

As you drifted off, you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of peace. Tomorrow might be hectic, but tonight, you were exactly where you needed to be.

The morning air was full with energy, and the McLaren garage was a hive of activity—today is the last race of the 2024 season. Engineers and mechanics moved with precision, finalizing last minute checks, while the hum of engines in the background added to the excitement. You had arrived earlier with Lando, his family, and Lily—Oscar’s girlfriend. It felt good to be surrounded by familiar faces, especially Lily, whose presence brought a comforting sense of normalcy amidst the ongoing chaos.

You were a private person by nature, someone who valued the quiet and personal over the public and the performative. While the world of Formula 1 was filled with spectacle and exposure, you had always kept your life out of the spotlight, sharing only what was necessary and only with those closest to you.

This is partially the main reason why the majority of Lando’s fanbase found themselves really intrigued by you. Unlike many others in his orbit, you didn’t have any public social media presence, and there were only rare glimpses of you, often in the background of celebratory posts or candid shots captured at races.

The only social media platform you used was instagram, and even that was private. On it, you only followed a select group of people—your family, Lando’s family, close friends, and a small circle that included a few grid drivers and their girlfriends. Lando, of course, was at the center of it all. The account was not a place for you to broadcast your whole life, but instead, it was a way to stay connected with those who mattered, sharing snippets of your world through carefully chosen photos or stories.

Your appearances at races were rare—it wasn’t for lack of interest or support but dictated by your own commitments and the overwhelming nature of the events themselves. The previous year—2023, had been especially demanding for you as you were in your final year at Parsons School of Design, pouring your energy into completing your degree. Between assignments, projects, and preparations for your graduation, attending races had been nearly impossible. That year, you had managed to make it to only a handful of events, but you knew Lando understood, he always does.

The 2024 season has been no different in terms of your limited attendance. Out of the twenty-four races, you had been present for just three: Miami—where Lando had his first win of the season, the Netherlands, and Singapore. Those three races, however, had been unforgettable. Lando had won all of them, each one holding its own significance, but none more so than Singapore.

Lando’s victory in Singapore had been very deeply personal for you, not only that he won in your home country, but your family had also been there to witness his win, and seeing Lando celebrate with your family after crossing the finish line was a memory that you would always go back to.

While you were familiar with the paddock and the people in it, you never felt entirely at home there. It was vast and vibrant, but it could also be very overwhelming, even isolating. You were not someone who can easily mingle with large groups, and though you were polite and cordial with other people, you didn’t forge many close connections.

However, there were exceptions, of course. Rebecca, Carlos’ girlfriend, had become a friend early on, her warm, approachable, and easygoing nature made her one of the few people you felt comfortable around. Carlos and Lando’s close friendship meant you saw Rebecca often, and over time, your bond grew.

Then there was Lily, Oscar’s girlfriend. Similarly, Lily’s grounded and easygoing personality had drawn you in, especially with Lando and Oscar being teammates naturally brought you into her orbit. Much like Rebecca, Lily had a way of putting you at ease, and the two of them became your anchors whenever you were at a race, they were the one who ensured that you never felt out of place.

You really appreciated their presence more than you could ever express. Attending races, even with Lando by your side, often left you feeling out of place. It wasn’t that anyone treated you poorly, it was simply that the environment was so different from what you were used to. The noise, attention, and the sheer scale of it all—it could be a lot for someone like you. Rebecca and Lily understood this, and they had a way of making you feel less alone in the crowd.

As the garage filled with the chatter of team members and the faint cheers from the grandstands outside, you found yourself growing quieter. Your nerves had taken over, as they always did on race days, but this time, it was more heightened. The stakes were higher—this was McLaren’s chance to secure the Constructors’ Championship, a feat they hadn’t achieved in years. The weight of it pressed heavily on your chest, making it hard to focus on anything else.

Lily noticed your silence, her voice cutting through the noise as she leaned closer, whispering softly. “You okay? You’ve been awfully quiet since we got here.”

You managed a small smile, glancing at her briefly. “Just nervous. For both of them.” you admitted, voice quieter than usual.

She nodded, placing a reassuring hand on your arm. “I get it. It’s a big day for them, but they’ve got this, and hey, if anyone’s a good luck charm, it’s definitely you.” she added with a wink, trying to lighten the mood.

Lily’s words made you chuckle softly, but the nervous energy bubbling inside you remained. Your eyes drifted towards Lando, who was standing near his car, already suited up and listening intently to his engineers. Seeing him like that reminded you why you always believed in him, even on the toughest of days.

As the minutes ticked closer to the start of the race, you knew you had to wish him luck. With a deep breath, you stepped away from Lily and made your way to Lando, weaving through the controlled chaos of the garage. Lando noticed you immediately, his expression softening as you approached. He turned to face you fully, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Hey.” he said, voice low but warm.

“Hey.” you replied, hands instinctively reaching for his. His gloves were already on, but you held them anyway, thumbs brushing against the fabric.

“I just wanted to say good luck again. I know how much this race means to you, to the entire team. But no matter what happens out there today, you’re always going to be my winner. My champion.” you said, voice steady despite the nerves swirling inside you.

Lando’s smile grew, and he took a small step closer, his gloved hands holding yours more firmly. “Thank you. It means everything to me that you’re here.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of the moment. “I’ll be right here waiting for you when it’s over. Always.”

His eyes softened further, and without hesitation, Lando leaned in, lips meeting yours in a tender kiss. It wasn’t long, but it was enough to steady both of you, grounding you before the storm ahead.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours. “I’ll see you after, yeah?”

You nodded again, reluctantly letting go of his hands as he stepped back. Just as he turned toward his car, Lando glanced over his shoulder, flashing you a small, reassuring smile before climbing into the cockpit. As he began to settle in, one of the staff members approached you, handing over a pair of orange McLaren headphones. You thanked them with a polite smile and made your way back to where Lily and Lando’s family were waiting.

Lily gave you a knowing look as you rejoined her. “Feeling a little better?”

“A little,” you admitted, slipping on the headphones. “I’ll feel a lot better once this is over.”

She laughed softly, looping her arm through yours. “Same. But we’ve just got to believe in them.”

You nodded, glancing toward the starting grid displayed on the monitors. The cars were lining up, the atmosphere was filled with anticipation. Lando’s car was on the front, with Oscar on his right.

The race began with a level of intensity that immediately set your nerves on edge. Fifty-eight laps stretched ahead, but from the very start, chaos seemed to unfold every turn. Lando, starting on pole, managed a clean getaway and led the race. However, everything behind him seemed to descend into pandemonium.

Your heart jumped when Max, attempting to take P2, tagged Oscar’s rear tire. The collision sent both cars spinning off course, eliciting gasps from the garage. Checo and Valtteri collided shortly after, forcing Checo to retire for the entirety of the race, and Charles—against all odds, surged from P19 to P8. Ferrari clearly had their sights set on closing the 21 points gap in the Constructors’, and the pressure was immense.

The commentators were relentless. Max received a 10-second penalty for his collision with Oscar, and then Oscar himself had been handed a penalty of his own after making contact with Franco, which resulted in Franco’s retirement as well. Oscar’s chances of scoring major points were essentially over, and it became painfully clear that all the weight was now on Lando’s shoulders.

Your hands were clasped together tightly, your nerves refusing to settle. Every lap was a test of endurance and felt like an eternity. You could hear the engineers strategizing, discussing pit stops, tyre degradation, and maintaining the gap. A critical two-second pit stop gave Lando the edge he needed to remain ahead, but Carlos wasn’t far behind. He was relentless, desperately closing the gap wherever he could.

Your mind flashed back to the Singapore Grand Prix. That had been a race to remember, where Lando had led from start to finish, dominating with a 20-second gap to Max. It had been a nerve wracking yet exhilarating experience, but today was different. The margin was razor-thin. The gap between Lando and Carlos hovered around five seconds, and it felt like the entire race was balanced on the edge of a knife.

Your clasped hands are now resting against your lips as you silently prayed. You didn’t care to speak, afraid to jinx anything. Each lap brought a fresh wave of anxiety. You watched as Carlos pushed harder and harder, the gap shrinking ever so slightly, then stabilizing. It was a battle of wills, and all you could do was hope Lando’s calm precision behind the wheel would see him through.

As the final laps approached, your heart was pounding so loudly, and you were sure that everyone around you could hear it. The garage was a mix of tension and muted optimism, everyone holding their breath for the outcome they so desperately wanted.

When Lando finally crossed the checkered flag in first place, it felt like the air was punched out of you. For a moment, there was silence in your mind, and then the world came rushing back as the whole McLaren garage erupted in cheers.

Engineers, mechanics, and all of the staff jumped up and down, fists pumping in the air. Lando’s race engineer came over the radio, his voice cracking with emotions as he congratulated Lando not just on the win, but securing the Constructors’ Championship for McLaren.

You could not believe it. The realization of what had just happened hit you like a tidal wave, washing away all the tension and anxiety that had built up over the past fifty-eight laps. Lando had won. Not only had he won the race, but he is a runner up in the World Drivers’ Championship, and most of all, he had delivered McLaren their first Constructors’ Championship in twenty-six years.

It felt surreal. The garage continued celebrating around you, but for a moment, you stood frozen, taking it all in. The cheers, shouting, hugs, and the overwhelming sense of happiness that filled the air. Then, almost instinctively, you joined in. Something came over you, a burst of emotion you rarely let out, and you found yourself jumping up and down with everyone else, unable to contain the sheer exhilaration coursing through your veins.

You could feel tears welling up before you even realized you were crying. Not just small tears either, but full, unrestrained sobs of happiness. You were crying so hard it was difficult to catch your breath, but you did not care. The weight of the moment was too much to hold in, you hugged Cisca tightly, burying your face against her shoulder as she squeezed you back. She, too, had tears in her eyes.

“He did it. He really did it.” her voice cracked.

“I’m so proud of him.” you managed to say between sobs, your voice trembling with emotions.

Cisca smiled through her own tears and cupped your cheeks for a moment, her pride mirroring your own. You turned next to Adam, giving him a quick but heartfelt hug before you turned to. Without a word, you wrapped your arms around her. She laughed softly, her own eyes glistening, and held you tightly.

“This is insane,” Lily whispered, shaking her head as she let out a breathless laugh. “He was amazing today.”

You nodded fervently, unable to articulate the storm of emotions inside you. Perfect didn’t even begin to describe it. Everything had gone right this week—no deleted lap times during qualifying, pole position won by a margin that silenced all doubts, led every lap of the race with a calm precision that made it look effortless, managing his tyres like a seasoned champion, even with Carlos breathing down his neck for most of the race, and most of all, staying composed under immense pressure, the kind of pressure that would have unraveled almost anyone else.

Your chest swelled with pride as you thought about it. Lando had brought back the crown to McLaren, a team that had not tasted this kind of glory in over two decades. Twenty-six long years since their last Constructors’ title, and Lando had done it, not just for himself but for the team, for the legacy.

This was not just a win. It was history, and you are here to witness all its glory. You felt overwhelmed by the enormity of it all, but beneath the tears and the adrenaline was an overwhelming sense of pride. Pride for Lando, who had worked tirelessly for this moment. Pride for McLaren, who had never given up, and pride for this race, this perfect ending to an unforgettable season.

You wiped your tears, a smile breaking through as you took a deep breath. Lando had really done it, and you could not have been happier to be by his side for it all.

The energy under the podium was incredible, sea of papaya erupting into cheers as the three drivers took their places. You stood close to Cisca, both of you craning your necks to get the best view of the podium. The wide smile on her face mirrored your own, both of you practically glowing with pride.

Charles stepped onto the third spot to a round of applause. Carlos followed, climbing to the second step, where the McLaren fans cheered for him too, though the cheers were louder, almost deafening, when Lando finally appeared. He bounded up to the top step, his face breaking into a wide, relieved smile as he took it all in—the crowd and cameras.

Lando looked happy, truly happy. For a brief moment, his eyes scanned the crowd below, and when they landed on you, his smile grew even brighter. Without thanking, you blew him a flying kiss, and you could see the subtle way his shoulders relaxed, grin softening into something so tender it made your heart skip a beat.

The British National Anthem filled the whole circuit, and everyone quieted down as they turned their attention to the podium. You stood there with your hands clasped, looking up at him as the British flag waved proudly above his head. Lando’s eyes stayed steady, his expression filled with a quiet pride, and you knew he was soaking in every second of this moment.

When the trophies were handed out, your emotions bubbled over again. As Lando lifted the winner’s trophy high into the air, you felt tears sting your eyes once more. You clapped so hard your palms began to sting, but you didn’t care.

“Yes, Lando!” you Found yourself shouting, your voice mixing with the cheers of the teams and fans around you. Beside you, Cisca let out a joyful whoop, and you both exchanged a quick, tearful hug.

“That’s our boy.” Cisca whispered, and you nodded.

Then came the Constructors’ trophy, a moment you had been waiting for all day. Zak stepped forward to receive it, raising it high above his head with both hands as the crowd erupted in cheers. The sight of that massive trophy, finally back in McLaren’s hands after twenty-six years, made your heart swell with pride.

It was time for the spraying of champagne, and Lando immediately did his iconic champagne pop, spraying everyone with abandon. You laughed as Lando and Carlos shared a grin, drenching Charles before turning on Zak. You couldn’t stop smiling, your cheeks starting to ache from the happiness as you snapped a few more photos of them celebrating.

Champagne drenched, Lando joined Zak once again at the front of the podium, and together they hoisted the winner’s and WCC trophy high. You quickly reached again for your phone, capturing a photo of the moment—the bright orange suits, glittering of the trophy, and ecstatic smiles on their faces. It was a moment worth preserving, a piece of history you would cherish forever.

It was pure happiness on that podium, and looking up at Lando, drenched in champagne, trophy in hand, and beaming like the sun—you felt like the luckiest person in the world to witness it all.

The crowd outside the FIA garage was still buzzing with post-race excitement. You stood among the throng, your eyes scanning the door every few seconds, waiting patiently for Lando to come out. It had been a whirlwind day, and while you understood the endless media obligations he had to fulfill, you were eager to see him again.

Rebecca caught your eye from across the way, standing slightly apart from the crowd, waiting for Carlos. Her tall, poised figure was impossible to miss, and a smile spread across your face as you walked over to her.

“Rebecca!” you greeted warmly, reaching out to give her a quick hug. “I’m so happy to see you! I feel like I haven’t seen you all weekend.”

“I know, it’s been crazy, hasn’t it?” Rebecca replied, her own smile lighting up her face. “But I’m so glad we could finally catch up. Congratulations on Lando’s win, by the way. What a race!”

“Thank you,” you said, feeling your cheeks warm at the mention of Lando. “It still feels so surreal, and congratulations to Carlos too. P2, that’s amazing!”

Rebecca laughed softly. “Thank you. He’s been working so hard for this, but honestly, today was all about Lando. He was just unstoppable out there.”

You nodded, your chest filled up with pride at her words. “It was such a tough race, though. My nerves were shot the entire time.”

“I can imagine,” Rebecca said, her tone understanding. “But he did it, McLaren did it. What a way to end the season, right?”

Then, the sound of cheers caught both of your attention. Carlos appeared, his hair slightly damp from the champagne, and a grin spread across his face when he spotted Rebecca. She immediately stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

“Congratulations!” Rebecca said, voice soft but full of warmth.

Carlos returned her hug, murmuring something into her ear before turning to you. “Hey! Did you enjoy the race?”

“I did,” you said, smiling at him. “Congratulations on P2, Carlos. You were amazing out there.”

“Thank you,” he replied, his grin widened. “But the day belongs to Lando, doesn’t it? What a phenomenal drive from him.”

You couldn’t help but smile again, the pride you felt for Lando practically radiating from you. “He worked so hard for this.”

Carlos nodded knowingly. “He deserves every bit of it. Oh, and by the way,” he added, “he should be out any minute now. You won’t have to wait much longer.”

“Thanks, Carlos.” you said, your heart skipping a beat at the thought of seeing Lando again.

Carlos and Rebecca began to walk off as you stayed put, eyes drifting back to the FIA garage door, your anticipation building with each passing second.

Then, the crowd erupted in applause and cheers the moment Lando came out from the FIA garage. You joined in, clapping enthusiastically with the whole McLaren team members, media, and fans as they all celebrated him—the man of the hour, but Lando’s eyes were immediately searching for one person—you.

Lando spotted you in an instant and, without hesitation, made a run towards you. You barely had a moment to process it before he wrapped you in his arms, pulling you into a hug so tight it left you breathless. You could feel his sweat, mixed with champagne warm against yours.

Before you could say anything, he lifted you up and twirled you around. He then put you down, tilted your face up, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss so filled with emotion it made your head dizzy. There was no shyness in the way he kissed you—it was all passion, relief, and gratitude.

You could hear the cameras clicking furiously around you, capturing every second of the moment, but you didn’t care. Neither did Lando, it seemed, as his hands stayed firmly on your waist. When you pulled apart, you were smiling against his lips, your heart swelling as he looked at you with pure adoration.

“You did it.” You whispered.

“I did it,” he echoed, his breath warm on your skin. Then he nuzzled his face into your neck, his hair tickling your cheek as he inhaled deeply, grounding himself in your presence. “God, I missed you out there.” He murmured softly, voice muffled against your skin.

You stroked the back of his neck gently, still holding him close. “I’m so proud of you,” you said, boice steady but thick with emotion. “You drove like a champion today. I can’t wait for next season, my love. It’s going to be your year, I just know it.”

Lando pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, his gaze soft but sparkling with determination. “It’s our year,” he said firmly, his voice low but confident. “None of this would’ve been possible without you. I love you.”

You felt your cheeks flush at his words, and your chest tightened with overwhelming affection. “I love you too.”

He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before intertwining your fingers with his. Lando held your hand tightly, almost as if he didn’t want to let you go, even as the media and McLaren staff began to encroach on his space.

“I have to finish the media stuff,” he said reluctantly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles and bringing it over to his lips, apologizing for having to leave you again soon. “But I’ll see you right after, I promise. We’ll celebrate.”

“I’ll be waiting.” You said softly, giving his hand a squeeze.

After a hectic weekend that included celebrating McLaren’s Constructors’ Championship win in Bahrain with the crown prince, attending festivities at McLaren Technology Centre, and dressing to the nines for the FIA Awards, you and Lando finally returned home to his Monaco apartment. The calm of the familiar space was a welcome change from the high-energy chaos of the past few days, even though you knew it would be short-lived.

The December calendar was packed—at least for you, and with Lando tagging along. There was little time to breathe before the next string of obligations began. You and Lando would be flying again soon to Singapore to attend the wedding of Colin Khoo and Araminta Lee, a lavish affair that had already been dubbed as Singapore’s wedding of the century.

The Khoos and Lees were families deeply tied to yours—Colin being your cousin Nick’s best friend and practically an honorary member of your family, while Araminta’s younger sister, Sophia, had been your high school classmate, someone you remembered fondly for her warmth and kindness. These connections meant that your presence was not just requested, it was expected, especially given how your families’ businesses were intertwined.

However, the wedding itself was not the only commitment pulling you to Singapore. You were set to arrive days before the ceremony to attend Araminta’s bachelorette party, while Lando had been invited to Colin’s bachelor’s party. On top of that, your Ah Ma had scheduled one of her signature dinner parties—a must-attend event. The December social calendar wasn’t just busy, it was a finely tuned balancing act, with every minute accounted for.

After Singapore, you would fly to the UK to spend Christmas with Lando’s family. Then, it’s back again to Singapore for the New Year’s Eve celebrations with your family, a mix of traditions and festivities that always made the transition into a new year special. It would be exhausting, but you were accustomed to juggling personal commitments and obligations that came with your families’ global connections.

Amidst the chaos, there was an underlying sense of excitement. December was always hectic, but this year, it carried a certain weight of celebration and happiness. Even with the endless travel, extravagant parties, and obligations, there was comfort in knowing that you and Lando were navigating it all together.

You and Lando have 24 hours to go before your flight to Singapore, and you both stood in the bedroom, surrounded by open suitcases and neatly folded piles of clothes. The room buzzed with quiet energy as the two of you packed, double-checking everything to make sure nothing essential would be left behind. Lando had his usual approach—casual, unbothered, and occasionally tossing random stuff into his suitcase. While you, you were methodical, going down your checklist and catergorizing every outfit and item for the busy schedule ahead.

As you neatly folded a pair of trousers into your suitcase, you glanced over at Lando, who was holding up yet another hoodie and contemplating packing it. You let out a soft sigh, setting your clothes aside.

“Love,” you began, voice soft but teasing, “I know that hoodies and sweatshirt are your favorite, but you do remember my Ah Ma’s dinner party, right?”

Lando looked at you with mock indignation, a playful grin tugging at his lip. “Hey, what’s wrong with being comfortable? Hoodies are versatile.”

You laughed lightly and shook your head. “You’re not going to convince Ah Ma that hoodies are versatile.”

“But she loves me, so does it really matter what I wear?” he looked at you, a boyish grin spreading across his face.

You let out a chuckle. “She does love you, but she’s still very particular about dress codes. Hoodies won’t cut it, no matter how much she adores you. Trust me, formal is the only way to go.”

Lando groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the bed. “Formal? Again? Haven’t I worn enough suits this past few days already?”

You playfully rolled your eyes at his silly antics, you leaned over him and gently squished his cheeks between your hands, making him pout slightly.

“It’s only for a few hours, babe,” you said with mock seriousness, planting a quick kiss on his puckered lips. “You can survive. Also, our fit for the wedding was flown ahead to Singapore already.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, his hands sliding to your waist as he pulled you closer. “Really? You had our outfits sent ahead? That’s very fancy of you,” he teased, voice warm and playful as his fingers lightly traced your waist.

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning into him. “It wasn’t my idea—it was my Mom’s. She didn’t want us stressing about anything last-minute, so yes, everything’s already in Singapore, ready for the wedding.”

“Alright, I’ll dress properly. For you, and your terrifyingly strict Ah Ma.” he said, voice muffled by your hands.

“Thank you.” you pressed another kiss on his lips, then wrapped your arms around his neck. “I promise that it’ll be worth it, and besides, our outfits go so well together. We’ll be looking extra cute.”

Lando pulled you closer. “That’s the only reason I’m agreeing to this,” he joked, pressing a kiss on your lips. “Because we’ll look cute.”

With everything packed, you stepped back and returned to your checklist. “Now, let’s go through everything one more time,” you said, grabbing the notepad from your bedside table. “We can’t afford to leave anything important behind.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, his tone laced with humor. “We? I feel like you’re the one in charge here.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” you replied, giving him a pointed look. “I love you so much, but you forget things. Like all the time. So yes, I’m in charge. Just let me do this.”

Lando raise his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, boss. Whatever you say.” but the warmth in his voice and the way his eyes softened when he looked at you says that he did not mind one bit.

The private jet touched down in Singapore just as the clock struck three in the morning. The hum of the engines winding down felt like a soothing lullaby after the whirlwind of travel. As the jet taxied to the private tarmac, you stretched slightly in your seat, trying to shake off the haze of exhaustion that clung to you live a heavy blanket. It had been days of nonstop movement. From New York to Dubai to Monaco, and now, to Singapore—you were running on fumes.

One of your family’s drivers was already waiting by the car as you and Lando stepped off the jet. The humid Singapore air embraced you like a familiar friend, but you were too tired to notice it fully. Lando, looking equally worn out but managing a faint smile, grabbed your hand to guide you down the stairs. The driver greeted you both warmly, holding the car door open as you slipped inside.

The ride to your home in the high-rise district was quiet, with the city’s nightlife slowly fading into the early morning calm. You leaned your head against the window, eyes fluttering shut as the car glided through the streets. Every now and then, Lando’s hand would squeeze yours gently, keeping you awake despite your jet-lagged haze.

When the car passed through your front gates and stopped on your front door, you stumbled out first, kicking off your sneakers as soon as you stepped inside your home. The plush carpet felt like heaven beneath your feet. Lando followed close behind, carrying a couple of bags despite his own fatigue.

You muttered something incoherent about needing to unpack but barely made it past the living room before surrendering to your exhaustion. With a small groan, you collapsed onto the soft white couch, burying your face into one of the throw pillows.

“I’ll just close my eyes for a second,” you mumbled, voice trailing off as sleep claimed you.

Lando chuckled softly from where he stood by the entrance, arms full of bags. “A second, huh?” he murmured, watching as you curled up tighter.

He set the bags down carefully, and crossed the room to where you lay. Kneeling by the couch, he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face.

“Out cold already,” he said quietly, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

Despite his own exhaustion, Lando moved with quiet determination. Slipping an arm under your knees and another beneath your back, he lifted you up effortlessly. You stirred slightly, mumbling something that he couldn’t make out, but didn’t wake.

“Come on, sleepy head.” he whispered, adjusting his grip as he carried you towards the bedroom.

Navigating the familiar layout of your Singapore home, Lando easily found his way to the master bedroom. He nudged the door open with his foot and carefully placed you on the bed, taking extra care not to jostle you. You sighed softly in your sleep, instinctively shifting to get comfortable as soon as you hit the mattress.

Standing back for a moment, Lando shook his head with a small laugh. “You really pushed yourself this week,” he said quietly to himself.

Tugging the duvet from beneath you, he draped it over your sleeping form before heading back out to bring in the rest of the luggage inside the house. Once everything was inside, Lando returned to the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, his hand resting slightly on your shoulder. You didn’t stir, and he just smiled to himself.

“Guess unpacking can wait ‘til later,” he said softly.

Standing up, he turned off the lights, with only the soft glow of the city filtering through the curtains casting a gentle warmth over the whole room. With everything settled, he changed into some comfortable clothes and climbed into the bed beside you, wrapping an arm protectively around your waist as sleep finally overtook him too.

The soft afternoon light streamed through the curtains when you stirred awake, slowly coming back to consciousness. Stretching lazily under the covers, you blinked a few times before turning your head. Lando was already wide awake, leaning against the headboard with his phone in hand, scrolling idly. The peacefulness on his face made you smile softly. Sensing your movement, he glanced down at you, a warm grin spreading across his lips.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he murmured, setting his phone down on the bedside table. Lando leaned down to kiss you softly, his lips warm and familiar. “Finally decided to join the land of the living?”

“How long was I out?” you asked, voice still raspy from sleep as you shifted to prop yourself slightly.

“Hmm,” he murmured, pretending to think as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “A solid eleven hours, give or take. I think that might be a record for you.”

“Eleven hours?” you said, eyes widening in mock disbelief. “Well, I deserved that. That’s the most proper sleep I’ve gotten in days.”

“You definitely needed it,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “You’ve been running on fumes.”

Instead of getting up and getting started on unpacking your things, you nestled yourself against Lando’s chest, letting out a content sigh as his arm settled securely around you—your things can wait. His other hand picked up his phone again, resuming whatever he had been scrolling through.

“What are you looking at?” you asked curiously, voice muffled against his shirt.

“Just catching up on messages and stuff,” he replied, his thumb flicking across the screen. “Few banter with Maximilian. Nothing too exciting.”

The two of you stayed like that for a while, basking in the comfort of each other’s presence. The steady rhythm of his breathing, the way his fingers idly traced small circles on your arm—it was the kind of peace you hadn’t realized you craved after the hectic days leading up to this.

After a comfortable silence, you tilted your head to look up at him. “Don’t forget,” you reminded him gently, “tonight’s my Ah Ma’s dinner party. My family will be sending a car to pick us up at six to drive us to her estate.”

He groaned playfully, letting his head fall back against the headboard. “Already? I was just starting to feel human again.”

“You’ll survive,” you teased, reaching up to pat his cheeks softly with a small laugh. “Besides, you love Ah Ma.”

“That’s true,” he admitted with a grin. “But does she love me enough to excuse me from wearing a suit?”

“Not a chance, my love,” you said, shaking your head. “She might adore you, but rules are rules. No hoodies at Ah Ma’s dinner table.”

He laughed softly. “Fine, fine. I’ll play along.”

Satisfied, you let yourself relax against him again, savoring the calm for another thirty minutes before you decided it was time to get moving. You sat up, stretching your arms above your head before climbing out of bed.

You noticed that you were still dressed in your flight clothes, so you opened your closet and pulled out a pair of comfortable home clothes, quickly changing. As you tied your hair up, you glanced back at Lando, who was still lounging on the bed, scrolling through his phone again.

“I’m going downstairs to grab a snack. Wanna come?” you said softly.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, finally setting his phone aside and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. As he stood and stretched, he added casually, “oh, by the way, Chris dropped by earlier. He brought us some of your favorite food.”

“Really?” you asked, brightening at the mention of your second brother. “What did he bring?”

“Everything, I think,” Lando replied with a grin, following you out of the room. “Laksa, chicken rice, sambal stingray—it’s downstairs. He figured we’d be too tired to cook, and, well, he’s not wrong.”

“Chris is the best,” you said fondly, making your way towards the kitchen. “And he definitely knows you can’t cook to save your life.”

“Hey!” Lando protested, feigning offense. “I can cook!”

You shot him a skeptical look over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Babe, toast doesn’t count.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he wrapped an arm around your waist while you walked. “Good thing I’ve got you, then.”

“Geez, what would you do without me, huh?” you teased, and he just chuckled.

Lando helped you unpack the containers of food that Chris had dropped off, carefully setting everything onto the counter. You grabbed a few plates and bowls from the cupboard, handing some to Lando while you began separating the dishes. The aroma of spices and freshly cooked rice filled the kitchen, reminding you just how much you had missed authentic Singaporean food.

“Baby, careful with that,” you said, gesturing toward the sambal stingray as you placed it on a plate. “I already know you’re not touching this one.”

“Yeah, no chance,” Lando replied with a playful grimace, taking a step back as if the dish might bite him. “Fish and me, we’re not friends. You already know that.”

You laughed, setting the plate down and moving on to the chicken rice. “Well, I figured as much. I separated the chicken rice for you since it’s the only thing here you’ll actually eat.”

“You’re too good to me,” he teased, kissing you on the forehead and pulling over a chair, sitting down at the dining table. “Though, to be fair, I think chicken rice is objectively the best option here.”

Rolling your eyes playfully, you carried the food to the table, placing his plate in front of him and your own dish next to it. “It’s not that you don’t like the other options,” you teased, sitting down in front of him, “you’re just a picky eater, babe.”

Lando picked up his fork, grinning. “I’m not picky. I just know what I like.”

“And apparently what you like is the safest, most neutral option,” you joked, scooping a bit of rice into your mouth. The flavors were as rich and satisfying as you remembered, and for a moment, you closed your eyes to savor it. “God, I missed this so much.”

Lando watched you, amused. “I think Chris might love you more than I do with how often he brings you food.”

You smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Well, he is my brother.”

As the two of you ate, Lando paused between bites to ask, “is Nick coming tonight?”

You nodded, wiping the corner of your mouth with a napkin. “Yeah, he is. He arrived yesterday, and he’s bringing Rachel with him, too. He wants to introduce her to Ah Ma.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly in interest. “Rachel, huh? That’s a big step.”

“It is,” you said, nodding thoughtfully. “But I think it’s the right time. They’ve been dating for over a year now, and Rachel’s really nice—very sweet, actually, and you can tell how much she loves Nick. I think she’ll handle tonight well.”

“I remember her from New York,” Lando said, gesturing with his form. “The double date? She seemed lovely then.”

“She is,” you agreed with a soft smile, thinking back to the time you all spent together in New York. “I’ve grown to love her. She became like a big sister to me, and a breath of fresh air. Rachel is really good for Nicky. I just hope everything goes smoothly tonight.”

“Remember when I met Ah Ma?” he said with a teasing grin.

You laughed at the memory, shaking your head. “Oh, don’t remind me. I was so nervous about how she’d react. You were the first person I ever brought to meet her.”

“Well, it went pretty well, all things considered,” he said, taking another bite of chicken rice. “Though I think she was testing me with all those questions about my plans for the future.”

“She was,” you admitted with a grin. “That’s her way of showing she cares, and you passed with flying colors, obviously. Ah Ma adores you, she even calls you a nickname, she rarely does that unless it’s her grandchildren.”

“Guess I made a good impression, then,” he said proudly.

“Of course you did!” you laughed.

“But Ah Ma’s a tough crowd, though. Think she’ll approve?” Lando asked, finishing a bite of chicken.

You leaned back in your chair, considering. “I think she will. Rachel’s got that quiet elegance about her, you know? She’s not flashy, not trying to prove anything. Ah Ma values that.”

“Well, if she’s got your seal of approval, she’ll be fine,” Lando said confidently, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand reassuringly. “And hey, if anything gets too intense, at least you'll have me there to lighten the mood.”

You chuckled, squeezing his hand back. “That’s true. You’ve got a way of making everyone like you.”

“Except for the sambal stingray,” he quipped, shooting a playful glance at the slightly untouched plate on the table.

The moment you finished your plate of food, you stood up from the table and made your way over to the fridge, searching for something sweet to finish off your meal. As you opened the fridge, you noticed a small box nestled on the top shelf with a red ribbon wrapped around it and a handwritten note on it. You quickly recognized your mother’s neat and elegant handwriting.

“I hope you and Lando enjoy this sweet treat. Stocked up your fridge for your stay, don’t forget to eat well. Love, Mom.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you grabbed the box and headed back to the table. “Look what my mom sent us,” you said, setting the box down in front of Lando with a grin. “Durian puffs!”

Lando gave you a wary look, his face already showing a bit of hesitation. “Durian puffs? You know I’m not exactly a fan of durian,” he said with a playful tone in his voice. “That stuff is…intense.”

You laughed, knowing exactly what he meant. “I know, I know. But trust me, these are different. They’re not as bad as the whole fruit, and they’re amazing when done right. My mom’s been baking them for years, you’ve got to try at least one bite.”

His eyes flickered to the box with a mixture of curiosity and caution. “I don’t know, babe,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “The last time you tried to get me to eat durian…I wasn’t exactly sold on it.”

You raised an eyebrow playfully, knowing it would take a bit of coaxing. “It’s not the same,” you said, opening the box and revealing the perfectly golden, puffed pastries inside. The familiar scent of durian filled the air, and you could see Lando’s nose wrinkle a little. “Come on, just one bite. You won’t regret it, I promise.”

Lando stared at the puff for a moment, clearly reluctant but still amused by your insistence. “Okay, fine,” he muttered, finally giving in. “But only because you’re looking at me like that.”

You smiled and grabbed one of the puffs, holding it out to him. “It’s not bad, babe, I promise. I used to eat these all the time when I’m here, and I’ve really missed them. It’s hard to find one of these in New York.”

He took a deep breath and hesitantly leaned forward, allowing you to tear off a small piece of the puff for him. Lando looked at it as if it were a challenge, then took a tentative bite.

You watched his expression carefully, curious to see how he would react. At first, his eyes widened slightly, and he chewed slowly, processing the taste. “Okay, I’ll admit,” he began, voice reluctant but tinged with surprise, “it’s not as bad as I thought.”

You smiled, delighted that he was starting to come around. “See? Told you. It’s a lot better than the whole fruit.”

Lando shook his head, smiling despite himself. “Yeah, yeah, you were right. It’s not terrible, but I’m not sure I’m ready to eat a whole one on my own.”

You grinned, knowing that wasn’t a problem. “That’s okay, we can share. It’s a pretty big puff anyway.”

The two of you ended up sharing the durian puff, breaking it into smaller pieces. You were glad Lando had tried it, he may not have been a huge fan, but at least he hadn’t refused outright this time. There was something so comforting about the familiar taste of home, especially when it was shared with someone who, despite their initial doubts, was willing to try new things for you.

He looked at the remaining half of the puff and then at you. “Alright, you win. I’m not sure I’ll ever be obsessed with durian, but I’ll give you this one. It’s better than I expected.”

“Glad to hear it, babe,” you smiled warmly, happy that he had at least made the effort. “Maybe next time you’ll be the one going for the second puff.”

The moment the clock struck six, you were already standing in the living room, ready and waiting for the car your family had sent to take you to your Ah Ma’s estate. You smoothed the fabric of your black popeline dress, its cinched waist and delicate midi length giving you an air of effortless elegance, perfect choice for the evening. Lando stood beside you, impeccably dressed in his black suit with the two buttons of his crisp white shirt left undone, the effortless style topped off with a tailored black coat. He looks very dashing—confident, yet understated in a way Lando could only pull off. You turned towards him, giving his outfit a final once-over.

“Hold still,” you murmured, dusting off an imaginary speck on his shoulder. Your fingers lingered there for a moment, gently straightening the lapel of his coat.

Lando chuckled softly, watching you fuss over him. “I think I’m good, babe,” he said, voice low and amused.

“You look so perfect,” you admitted with a small smile, your eyes meeting his.

As you stepped back to admire the two of you in the mirror, a flutter of nervousness settled in your chest. Before you could dwell on it further, the sound of the car pulling up in the driveway broke the silence. Your heart skipped a beat as you heard the soft hum of the engine outside.

He noticed the slight change in your expression and reached for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Lando leaned down slightly, pressing a gentle and quick kiss to your lips.

“You okay, baby?” he asked softly, his warm hand resting briefly against your waist, and eyes searching yours.

You nodded but hesitated before answering. “I don’t know why I’m nervous,” you admitted, voice barely above whisper.

Lando smiled, warm and understanding, and laced his fingers with yours. “Well, don’t be,” he said, his thumb brushing the back of your hand. “I’m here with you. It’s going to be fine.”

The way his hand fit so perfectly with yours instantly eased the tension you did not realize you were holding. You took a deep breath, letting Lando’s presence ground you, and smiled back at him.

“You’re right,” you said softly.

Together, you walked to the door, where the chauffeur was already waiting. You offered a polite greeting, and Lando followed suit. The chauffeur gave a respectful nod and stepped forward to open the car door. Lando turned his attention back to you, placing his hand gently above your head to ensure you didn’t bump it on the way in.

“Careful,” he murmured, voice low and attentive. He guided the folds of your dress to make sure it didn’t catch in the door.

Once you were in, Lando slid in beside you, adjusting his coat as he leaned back against the plush seat. The door closed softly behind him with a thud, and the hum of the engine filled the silence as the car began to move.

The car ride was smooth, the city lights of Singapore streaming past the tinted windows in a soft blur. You leaned forward slightly. “Is my family already at Ah Ma’s?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the chauffeur replied politely. “They arrived a little while ago.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Okay, thank you.” you replied, tone warm but measured.

“See?” he said softly, leaning a little closer. “Nothing to worry about.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his calm reassurance. “I guess you’re right,” you admitted, relaxing into the seat.

As the car turned onto Tyersall Avenue, the familiar sight of the estate’s discreet entrance came into view. There was no house number, no grand signage indicating its presence, it was just two white pillars framing the hidden driveway and a rusty, almost-forgotten sign partially obscured by overgrown foliage that read Tyersall Park. It was understated, nearly invisible to passerby, yet exuded an air of exclusivity and history.

The car slowed down as it approached the entrance, and the soft crunch of tyres on gravel indicated the start of the long, winding path to the estate itself. The path dipped slightly, then climbed up a small hill, where a second set of gates awaited. These gates were far more imposing than the first—ornate yet fortified, with a guardhouse attached.

The guards stationed in the second gate were not your ordinary security personnel. They were Gurkhas, known as one of the skilled and feared soldiers in the world. Their presence was a quiet but powerful reminder of the importance and prestige of the estate they protected. They moved swiftly and efficiently, conducting a quick check of the vehicle and exchanging a word with the chauffeur. Then the gates creaked open, revealing another path towards the estate.

Beyond the gates, an avenue lined with towering palm trees stretched out before you, their elegant fronds swaying gently in the night breeze. The avenue seemed endless, a perfect symmetry of nature and design, drawing the eye toward the glowing silhouette at the very end.

There, perched at the top of the hill, was your Ah Ma’s estate. It was as magnificent as you always remembered, illuminated softly against the night sky. The sprawling sixty-four acre mansion stood like a timeless monument, its intricate details and architectural grandeur untouched by the passing years. The sheer scale of the place was enough to leave anyone awestruck.

Even though Lando had seen it before, he couldn’t help but let out a soft exhale as the estate came fully into view. He turned slightly to glance at you, expression a mix of admiration and disbelief. You caught his gaze and smiled, already accustomed to the reaction the estate always elicited. The car began its slow ascent up the final path of the driveway, the palms on either side growing taller as you approached the estate’s main entrance.

Lando stepped out of the car first, then turned to offer you his hand. You placed your fingers gently in his, letting him steady you as you stepped out. The cool evening breeze brushed against your skin as the soft hum of conversations and the melodic sound of the live jazz band spilled from the open doors of the estate. Lando closed the car door behind you, his other hand naturally finding its place on the small of your back.

The grandeur of the evening was already evident. The driveway was lined with luxury cars, some of which you instantly recognized as belonging to your cousins. The valet attendants worked with practiced efficiency, guiding the vehicles into neat rows, their movements sharp against the backdrop of the estate's golden lights.

You had not expected this many guests for tonight’s dinner party. But as you took it all in, you realized that it was your Ah Ma who decided to throw the party. She never did things by halves.

Walking toward the entrance, you glance up at Lando, who offers you a small, knowing smile. The two of you ascended the short flight of steps together, and as the ornate doors swung open, the dinner party unfolded before you in full splendor.

The grand foyer was alive with movement and sound. Guests mingled in their elegant attire, their laughter and chatter blending harmoniously with the smooth melodies of the jazz band playing in the corner. Servers moved gracefully through the crowd, balancing trays of drinks and hors d’oeuvres.

You were greeted by a server offering a silver bowl filled with water to rinse your hands—a subtle nod to tradition. You dipped your fingers in, feeling the coolness against your skin, before drying them with the soft cloth that came with it. Lando followed your lead, his actions slightly tentative but seamless nonetheless.

As the two of you moved further into the house, your eyes scanned the room, searching for familiar faces. The dazzling opulence of the house was on full display tonight—crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, and the polished marble floors gleamed beneath the soft glow of candlelight.

Everywhere you turned, there were familiar faces—relatives chatting in small groups, family friends laughing over shared memories, and acquaintances dressed to the nines.

Still, the absence of one particular couple was glaring. You glanced around, expecting to see Nick and Rachel somewhere among the crowd, but there was no sign of them yet. But, you quickly spotted your parents standing near the grand staircase, deep in conversation with one of your family’s close friends and business partners. You nudged Lando gently, and together you made your way over to them.

The moment your parents saw you, their faces lit up. Your father greeted you first, his smile wide and welcoming. “Ah, you’re finally here,” he said warmly, pulling you into a brief embrace before turning his attention to Lando. “Lando! It’s good to see you again.”

Lando grinned, shaking your father’s hand firmly. “It’s great to see you too, sir.”

Your father wasted no time, immediately congratulating him. “That was an incredible race in Dubai—phenomenal drive! Congratulations on the win, both yours and McLaren’s. It's very well deserved.”

“Thank you. It has been an incredible season,” Lando replied, voice filled with modesty. “But it was a team effort, really.”

The two of them quickly fell into a deep conversation, with your father mostly asking about the race and McLaren’s celebration plans, clearly very eager to hear more.

You turned to your mother, who had been quietly observing the exchange with a smile. “Mom, where’s Ah Ma?” you asked, leaning in slightly to avoid raising your voice over the lively music.

“She’s still getting ready,” your mother replied with a knowing look. “You know how she is with these things, everything has to be perfect.”

You just nodded, though you couldn’t help but glance around the room again, taking in the number of people. “I thought this was only supposed to be a small dinner party,” you said, with a hint of surprise in your tone. “It looks like Ah Ma invited half of Singapore.”

She chuckled softly, a knowing twinkle in her eye. “Ah Ma decided to invite everyone. She said that it’s been too long since she’s hosted a big gathering. Besides,” she added, lowering her voice slightly, “her Tan Hua is going to bloom tonight. She wanted everyone to see it.”

The mention of Tan Hua caught your attention. It is a rare flower known for its elusive and short-lived bloom—a source of pride for your Ah Ma. It was not just a flower, it was a spectacle, a family event in itself. You smiled faintly, imagining her excitement as she planned this evening down to the last detail.

Your mother smiled knowingly at the look on your face. “Don’t worry, my dear, everything will be perfect. Your Ah Ma wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You had only been standing with your family for a few minutes when you caught sight of Nick and Rachel making their way into the house. Relieved and happiness washed over you at the sight of the couple, and with a polite smile, you gently excised yourself and Lando to go greet them. As you approached, Nick’s face lit up, and Rachel’s warm smile mirrored your own. You immediately pulled Nick into a hug, patting his back affectionately.

“Nicky! I’m so glad you’re finally here,” you said, stepping back slightly to greet Rachel. “It’s good to see you,” you said sincerely, your smile widening.

Rachel replied softly, “we wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

Before you could even mutter a new response, the unmistakable voice of your cousin Eddie cut into the moment. Inserting himself into the conversation with his usual air of self-importance.

“Nicky boy! Long time no see!” He clapped Nick on the shoulder, then turned his sharp gaze to Rachel. “And this must be Rachel! I’m Eddie.” he said, tone teetering on the edge of charming and patronizing.

Rachel, ever polite, offered her hand for a brief shake and smiled lightly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Eddie’s eyes flickered to you and Lando next, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Ah, I see you’ve already met the princess and her prince.”

The exaggerated emphasis on the titles almost made you roll your eyes. You didn’t bother hiding the subtle tilt of your head as you fixed him with a pointed look, but Lando only smiled faintly, his hand resting at your back.

Eddie was treading carefully. He always does whenever he’s around you, especially after the infamous incident when you were kids. You had punched him squarely on the face for saying something particularly offensive, and he had cried so loudly that half of the family came running to see what had happened.

That memory was enough to make Eddie measure his words around you now, though it did not stop him from occasionally pushing boundaries. Still, you knew he had nothing bad to say about Lando. Eddie, despite his many faults and flaws, respected wealth, and Lando’s background made him untouchable in Eddie’s eyes.

He shifted his attention back to Rachel, his smile tightening into something that looked more like calculation. “So, Rachel, from which Chu family are you from?” Eddie asked, the question clearly designed to assess her pedigree. “Chu Investments? Chu Shipping? Chu Constructions? Or maybe Chu Real Estate?” he rattled off with confidence, pausing after each one as if expecting immediate recognition.

Rachel, to her credit, handled it with grace. She shook her head gently at each suggestion, her polite smile never faltering. “No, I’m not from any of those families,” she replied, voice calm and pleasant.

Eddie didn’t seem deterred by her response. In fact, it only seemed to fuel his determination. “Really? Huh. Well, you must be from somewhere,” he said, leaning slightly as he named another family one after another, tone growing more insistent with each guess.

You watched the exchange with thinly veiled annoyance, your patience wearing thinner with every word out of Eddie’s mouth. You glanced at Rachel, who remained composed but was clearly growing weary of the interrogation. Nick, standing protectively beside her, shot you a look that said he was just as over Eddie’s antics as you are.

Eddie, oblivious to the awkwardness he was creating, pressed on. “Come on, you can tell us,” he said, as if her lineage were some kind of secret puzzle only he could solve. “Surely you’re related to one of the prominent families. There aren’t that many Chus of significance, you know.”

The annoyance just flickered greatly in your chest, not just for Rachel’s sake but for Fiona’s as well. Fionna, who stood a short distance away, casting occasional glance at her husband with that familiar expression of quiet resignation. You had seen that look too many times, the silent endurance of someone used to being overshadowed by Eddie’s insufferable personality. Events like this were her only reprieve, and whenever you were around, you made it a point to keep Eddie in check, and tonight would be no different.

“Eddie,” you said, voice calm but firm, cutting through his monologue like a knife. “I think Rachel’s already answered your question.”

Eddie faltered for a moment, mouth half-open as he turned to look at you. There was a flicker of something, annoyance perhaps, but it quickly disappeared and was replaced by his usual smug expression.

“Oh, of course,” he said smoothly, though his tone was anything but apologetic. “I was just curious, that’s all.”

“Anyway,” you said brightly, offering her a reassuring smile, and steered the conversation away from Eddie entirely, “I’m so glad you both could make it. Ah Ma will be thrilled to see you.”

Rachel returned your smile, shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. “Thank you.”

Eddie clearly sensed that his moment in the spotlight was over, he gave a small, self-important sniff and stepped back. You did not miss the way his gaze lingered on Rachel for a second longer than necessary before he excused himself, most likely off to find another conversation where he could insert himself.

“Thank you for that,” Nick muttered as soon as Eddie was out of earshot, voice quiet but sincere.

You waved it off with a small laugh. “It’s literally nothing,” you said lightly, though the underlying frustration lingered. “Eddie just can’t help himself sometimes.”

Lando turned to you, brows raised in curiosity. “So, has anyone ever knocked some sense into him? Or is he still walking around thinking he’s God’s gift to everyone?”

Nick, unable to contain himself, let out a laugh. “Oh, there’s definitely someone who knocked him out. Literally,” he said, motioning towards you with a tilt of his head.

“You?!” Lando exclaimed, laughing.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though you could feel the heat creeping up your neck. “In my defense,” you said evenly, “Eddie was much worse when we were kids. He’s always been a menace, constantly looking down on people, and giving all of his nanny a hard time. Someone had to do something.”

“And you did, all right.” Nick snorted. “He cried like a baby. I still remember his face, all red and snotty. It was priceless.”

Lando laughed, eyes gleaming with both amusement and pride. “I can’t believe I’m only hearing this story now. You never told me you could throw a punch.”

“I only did it because he deserved it,” you replied, crossing your arms lightly. “And don’t ever get any ideas. I’m not planning to make a habit out of it.”

Nick shook his head, still grinning. “Trust me, he’s toned it down around her ever since. Eddie might be insufferable, but even he’s smart enough to know not to push his luck twice.”

The conversation then shifted, with Nick and Rachel both congratulating Lando on his win in Dubai. “By the way, congrats again,” Nick said, clapping Lando on the shoulder. “That was one hell of a race.”

“Thank you,” Lando replied, tone modest but appreciative.

“We watched the whole race,” Rachel added, smiling warmly. “It was really incredible. You really deserved that win.”

“Speaking of race,” Nick grinned mischievously and turned to you. “The camera caught a great moment during the podium ceremony.”

You immediately knew where this was going and groaned. “Oh no. Don’t.”

Nick ignored you. “You should’ve seen her, Lando. The camera panned to her during the ceremony, and there she was, ugly crying like a soap opera actress.”

“It was actually really sweet. You could tell how proud she was.” Rachel giggled, covering her mouth.

You rolled your eyes playfully, though your lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “I was emotional, okay? It was a big moment.”

Lando glanced at you, his expression softening. “I thought it was cute,” he said simply, earning a playful scoff from you.

After a few more minutes of lighthearted conversation, Nick checked his watch. “We should probably go find Mom, I still need to introduce Rachel to her.”

You winced slightly but kept your tone encouraging. “Good luck,” you said sincerely. “I hope it goes well.”

Rachel gave you a grateful smile. “Thank you. Fingers crossed.”

Nick, ever the joker, winked at you. “Don’t worry. If it doesn’t, I’ll call you to change her mind.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as they walked away. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

When Nick and Rachel left, you and Lando wandered into one of the quieter corners of the house, a haven away from the bustling party. The dim lighting and the soft hum of conversation filtering through the walls made the space feel intimate and the warm aroma of desserts and dumplings filled the air, a bubble of calm amidst the grandeur of your Ah Ma’s estate. Lando sat close to you on the plush couch, dessert plates balanced on the small glass coffee table in front.

Lando picked up a delicate slice of kueh lapis with his fork and took a bite, humming appreciatively at the sweetness. “This is dangerous,” he said, leaning back comfortably. “Jon’s definitely going to say something when I step on the scales.”

You chuckled, leaning into his shoulders. “Oh, just wait until Ah Ma sees you. She’ll tell you to eat more and probably have the kitchen make an entire feast just for you.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Ah ma’s great, but I don’t think I can keep up. You saw how much food was at dinner alone.”

“Ah Ma loves feeding people,” you replied with a small smile, reaching for one of the dumplings.

Lando grinned, his aquamarine eyes sparkling with humor. He broke a piece of ondeh-ondeh in half, letting the green glutinous skin stretch slightly before offering you a bite. “Here, try this.”

You took the offered piece and bit into it, the burst of sweet palm sugar making you hum in delight. “I missed this,” you said, savoring the flavor.

He took the other half for himself, nodding as he chewed. “Not bad,” he said, swallowing. “Though I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the texture.”

“You're surviving,” you teased, reaching for a slice of steamed yam cake.

As the conversation flowed, the topic shifted naturally to your plans for 2025. “I’ll come to more races next year,” you promised, setting the plate down. “I want to be there for as many as I can, and we should also travel more too—there are so many places we need to see together.”

Lando smiled, expression softening. “I love the sound of that, and you moving to Monaco, finally. I’ve been waiting for ages.”

“Well, my apartment’s already sorted,” you reminded him with a small shrug. “But I’ll come over to yours everyday. You won’t even notice the difference.”

“Or,” he suggested, leaning in closer, “you could just move in with me.”

You laughed, lightly nudging him. “Nice try, Romeo. My parents bought the apartment already, remember? I can’t just ditch it.”

“Fine,” he said dramatically, throwing his head back against the couch. “But I’m holding you to that promise. I expect to you at mine every single day.”

“I promise,” you replied as you gave him a soft peck on the lips.

Then, a resonant sound of a cambodian gong echoed through the house, immediately catching your attention. Moments later, your mother’s voice, calm yet commanding, carried through the room. She stood with your Auntie Alix by her side, gracefully addressing the guests, tone filled with warmth and gratitude.

“Thank you all so much for joining us this wonderful evening,” your mother began, pausing to let her words settle. “It’s such a joy to have everyone here, especially on this special evening.”

Auntie Alix smiled, chiming in, “we’d like to invite everyone to the courtyard now, to witness the blooming of the Tan Hua. It’s a rare and special occasion, and it feels even more meaningful to share it with all of you tonight.”

There was a soft murmur of excitement as the guests began to make their way toward the courtyard. You turned to Lando, who was already grabbing your plates from the table. Wordlessly, you followed suit, stacking the dishes carefully and walking together toward the area designated for the dirty dishes. You discarded them neatly, brushing your hands off before turning back to him.

Lando reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as he often did, a reassuring gesture that made your heart settle. Together, you walked through the wide open doors that led to the courtyard. The cool evening air greeted you, carrying with it the faint scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass.

Ahead, the garden had transformed into an enchanting space, bathed in moonlight. The Tan Hua plant, placed on a pedestal under a canopy of soft lights, stood as the centerpiece. Its elegant, slender buds were illuminated in the gentle glow, and the pale moonlight seemed to highlight every delicate curve of the plant.

You noticed your Ah Ma nearby, two of her ladies-in-waiting carefully helped her into a chair that had been placed by the Tan Hua, with your Auntie Alix, your mother, and your Auntie Eleanor joining beside her. She moved slowly but with the dignity and grace that defined her. Faint murmurs of admiration around you quieted as everyone gathered closer.

The moment the first bloom began to open, a collective gasp rippled through the crowd. The petals unfurled slowly, revealing a pristine white flower that seemed to glow against the dark backdrop of the night. One by one, the other buds followed suit, their blossoms opening in a synchronized rhythm as though they were performing just for this audience.

You glanced at Lando, who was watching with quiet amazement, his eyes reflecting the glow of the flowers. You couldn’t help but smile softly at his expression, the wonder evident on his face. Around you, people whispered in awe, voiced hushed as though afraid to disturb the magic of the moment.

“It’s beautiful,” Lando said quietly, voice barely above whisper.

You nodded, squeezing his hand gently as your eyes returned to the blooming Tan Hua. Your Ah Ma, seated serenely in her chair, looked on with a contented smile, her presence leading an even greater sense of significance to the moment. The flowers seemed almost otherworldly as they completed their bloom, each one perfect and untouched, the rarity of the event settling in for everyone present.

The party had now shifted to the expansive courtyard, with the guests scattered around tables adorned with crisp white linens and glowing centerpieces. The soft melodies of the live jazz band, now situated under a canopy of string lights that filled the evening air, lending an elegant yet relaxed atmosphere.

You and Lando made your way through the crowd, hand in hand, weaving between clusters of chatting relatives and friends, until you reached the section where your family was gathered. Your Auntie Alix was the first to notice you. Her warm smile lit up her face as she pulled you into a gentle hug.

“Dear, it’s so good to see you,” she said softly. “You look so lovely tonight, and Lando, as dashing as ever!” you thanked her with a laugh, glancing at Lando, who nodded politely in return.

Your Auntie Alix always had a way of making you feel at ease, she’s kind and a very down-to-earth woman. It always puzzled you how Eddie could have turned out so…different, given how wonderful both his parents are. You turned to your mother and gave her another hug, then lastly, your Auntie Eleanor, who stood with a poised air, gaze sharp yet affectionate. She acknowledged you and Lando with a nod.

“Good to see you,” she said briskly before allowing a small smile to break through. “Lando, congratulations on a successful season. You’ve done very well.” Lando thanked her sincerely, and you exchanged a few pleasantries before excusing yourselves to greet the woman you had been searching for all night—your Ah Ma.

She was seated regally in an ornate chair that is adorned with soft cushions, surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting and closest confidantes. As you approached, you greeted her in Mandarin, your tone very respectful and warm.

“阿媽，很高興見到你,” (ah ma, it’s so good to see you) you said, dipping slightly in a gesture of reverence. Her face lit up instantly, her wrinkled hands reaching out to clasp yours.

“啊，我珍貴的孫女,” (ah, my precious granddaughter) she said, voice steady but laced with emotion. Her eyes scanned you from head to toe, and she smiled approvingly. “今晚你是如此美麗。 這件衣服，很適合你。 像蓮花一樣.” (you are so beautiful tonight. This dress suits you perfectly. Like a lotus flower)

You thanked her shyly, and her attention quickly shifted to Lando, her smile widening even more. She extended her arms toward him, and Lando, ever the gentleman, leaned down to embrace your Ah Ma warmly.

“Ah Ma, it’s so nice to see you again,” he said gently.

She chuckled, patting his arm as if Lando were a favored grandchild. “Lan Lan. You look very handsome,” she said in her Mandarin-laced English voice. “Why are you so skinny? Do you not eat? Have you eaten tonight?” her sharp eyes scanned him critically, tone carrying both affection and worry.

You couldn’t help but laugh quietly, recalling your earlier conversation with Lando. He glanced at you, his lips twitching into a sheepish smile before responding, “Ah Ma, I ate earlier, and I’ve been eating tonight too. Don’t worry.”

She shook her head lightly, still unconvinced. “You need to eat more. Racing may be important, but health is more important.” her gaze softened further as she turned back to you both. “You must take care of each other,” she added firmly.

“Especially you,” she looked directly at you, her hand resting on yours, voice lowering in emphasis. “Take care of him, but also make sure you take care of yourself. Lando, make sure you also take care of her too. Always.”

Lando nodded earnestly, his voice steady. “I promise, Ah Ma. I’ll always take care of her.”

“Good,” she said simply, giving your hand one last squeeze before settling back into her chair.

Not long after, Nick and Rachel appeared, weaving their way through the guests until they reached your group. Your Ah Ma’s face lit up the moment she spotted Nick, her expression softening with a mix of happiness. She straightened in her chair, reaching out toward him as he approached.

“Nicky,” she said warmly, her voice carrying a slight tremble. “時間太長了。 太長了 你很幸運我還活着見到你,” (it has been too long. too long. you’re lucky I am still alive to see you) she added with a teasing yet heartfelt tone, eyes glistening faintly.

Nick crouches slightly to be at her eye level, taking her hands in his. “阿媽，我好想你,” (ah ma, I missed you so much) he said sincerely, his tone apologetic yet filled with affection. “對不起，我花了這麼長時間纔回來,” (i’m sorry it’s taken me this long to come back)

Your Ah Ma clicked her tongue softly, her grip firm. “重要的是你現在在這裏,” (what matters is that you are here now) she said, voice soft. “但不要讓我再等這麼久，明白嗎?” (but don’t make me wait this long again, understand?)

Nick nodded with a smile. “我不會的，阿媽，我保證.” (I won’t, Ah Ma. I promise)

Then, with a small glance over his shoulder, he gestured toward Rachel, who stood quietly beside him. “Ah Ma, I want you to meet someone very special to me.” he turned to Rachel, who stepped forward, expression poised but warm.

Rachel greeted your Ah Ma in Mandarin, her tone respectful and her words careful yet fluent. “阿媽，謝謝你邀請我去你美麗的家,” (ah ma, thank you for inviting me to your beautiful home) she said, dipping her head slightly. “尼克告訴我很多關於你的事，尤其是你的餃子。 他說你做得最好.” (nick has told me so much about you, especially about your dumplings. he says you make the best in the world)

Your Ah Ma’s sharp eyes softened at Rachel’s words, a small smile tugging at her lip. “啊，沒什麼,” (ah, it’s nothing) she replied modestly. “如果你喜歡，我可以教你如何製作它們.” (if you like, I can show you how to make them)

Rachel’s face lit up, and she responded earnestly, “我會很榮幸���。 尼克高度評價他們，還有你.” (i would be honored. nick speaks so highly of them, and of you)

“很好,” (good) she said simply. “但是你必須很快來。 不是今晚，有太多的伸長脖子，流言蜚語。 下次，當它更安靜的時候.” (but you must come back soon. not tonight, there are too many craning necks and gossiping mouths. Next time, when it’s quieter)

You watched the exchange with a faint smile, pleased to see how your Ah Ma was beginning to warm up to Rachel—she might even end up really liking Rachel. It was clear that your Ah Ma appreciated Rachel’s efforts to respect tradition and connect with her.

As Nick and Rachel excused themselves right after the conversation they had with your Ah Ma, you discreetly turned your attention to your Auntie Eleanor, who had remained silent during the interaction. She leaned towards your Auntie Jacqueline, who had joined the group just moments ago, she murmured in a low voice, her words clipped yet unmistakable.

“When children are away from home for too long, they forget who they are,” she said, gaze pointedly fixed on Nick and Rachel, who were now walking away, laughing softly and exchanging affectionate glances.

You caught the subtle disdain in her tone, her disapproving eyes lingering a second too long on the couple. They looked every but in love—completely engrossed in each other and blissfully unaware of the scrutiny that they were both under. Your Auntie Jacqueline hummed softly in response, neither agreeing or disagreeing, but her expression remained neutral as she sipped her champagne.

However, you on the other hand, felt a small flare of irritation at the remark, biting your tongue to keep from reacting, knowing it would only escalate matters. Instead, you turned your attention back to Lando, who gave your hand a gentle squeeze, as if silently reminding you to let it go.

The evening had stretched long, and though the party had been filled with laughter, music, and warmth of family, your energy was waning. As the guests began to filter out one by one, you and Lando moved through the courtyard, bidding polite goodbyes to your relative. Your Ah Ma gave you both a lingering hug, whispering for you to take care of yourself before letting you go, and by the time you reached your car, your social battery was completely drained.

The drive home was quiet, filled only with the hum of the engine and the occasional flicker of streetlights through the windows. Lando’s hand rested on your thigh, his thumb rubbing lazy circles against your dress, offering a wordless comfort.

When you finally arrived home, you sighed in relief, slipping off your heels the moment you crossed the threshold. The familiar sensation of the cool floor against your feet grounding you, and you wasted no time heading towards the bedroom, Lando trailing close behind.

As you entered the room, you turned to him and asked, “can you please unzip me?” your voice was soft, almost sleepy, gathering your hair and sweeping it to one side.

Lando stepped forward, his hands brushing lightly against your back as he found the zipper. But before he pulled it down, he leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to the curve of your neck. The warmth of his lips sent a shiver up your spine, and you let out a quiet giggle as it tickled you.

“Lan, baby, stop it,” your tone was playful, though you didn’t move away.

“Just one,” Lando murmured, grinning as he finally slid the zipper down.

You slipped out of the dress carefully, draping it over the back of a chair before turning to Lando. “The wedding festivities start tomorrow,” you reminded him as you grabbed one of Lando's oversized white shirts to pull over yourself. “Colin and Araminta’s bachelor and bachelorette parties.”

Lando flopped onto the bed, watching you as you moved around the room. “I told Nick earlier that I won’t be able to make it to Colin’s party,” he said, propping his head on his hand. “I’ve got a last minute important Quadrant zoom meeting with Max tomorrow. But honestly, I don’t think Colin will even notice I’m missing. That guy will be too busy enjoying himself.”

“Well, let’s just hope that Colin and Nicky will have fun with the party that Bernard Tai had organized,” you snorted, heading to your walk-in closet to grab one of your suitcases. “But anyways, Rachel was invited to Araminta’s bachelorette party. It’s three days at Samsara Island.” you added, opening the suitcase and began to fold clothes into it.

Lando raised a brow. “Samsara Island?”

“Yeah, it’s a private island that her family owns,” you explained. “Rachel’s going, and I’m going too. She’ll need someone to look out for her.”

Lando sat up a little straighter. “Why? What’s the issue?”

You sighed. “Some of the girls Araminta invited are…well, vicious. They have a way of making anyone they see as an outsider feel unwelcome. I’m not letting Rachel deal with that alone.”

He reached out, tugging you gently towards him so you were standing between his legs. “You’re a good friend,” Lando said, hands softly settling on your waist. “But don’t let them drag you into any unnecessary drama, alright? Just keep an eye on Rachel and have some fun too.”

You smiled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “I’ll try,” you said. “But someone has to make sure Rachel’s okay.”

“I know,” Lando said, voice light but sincere. “That’s why I’m glad she has you.”

You then continued to pack, and as you folded the last set of your clothes and placed them neatly into your suitcase, the room was filled with the quiet rustle of fabric and the occasional click of your luggage zippers. Lando was sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard, watching you thoughtfully.

”you know,” you began, glancing at him as you folded a light blouse, “I don’t think it went well when Nicky introduced Rachel to Auntie Eleanor tonight.”

Lando’s brows furrowed slightly. “Why do you think that?” he asked, tone curious but concerned.

You sighed softly, pausing to place the blouse carefully into the suitcase. “It was shown all over his face,” you explained. “Then when Nick and Rachel left after introducing Rachel to Ah Ma, I overheard her. She made a comment to Auntie Jacqueline about how children who are away from home for too long forget who they are.”

He shook his head, confusion evident. “But why?” he asked. “Rachel’s amazing. She’s kind, sweet, and educated, I don’t get it. Why wouldn’t your Auntie Eleanor like her?”

Straightening, you turned to him, leaning against the dresser for a moment. “It’s kind of complicated,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “It’s not about Rachel as a person—yes, everyone can see how nice, educated, and well mannered she is. But it’s more of where she comes from.”

Lando frowned, still not understanding. “What do you mean? She’s Chinese, right? I mean, that’s what matters to your family, isn’t it? That she shares the same culture?”

“Yes, she’s Chinese, sure. But she’s what some people here would call ABC—American Born Chinese.” you said. “She grew up in the states, and culturally, Rachel’s not the same as us. To someone like Auntie Eleanor, that’s a big deal. She sees Rachel as…not on the same level as our family.”

His confusion shifted to disbelief. “Not on the same level?” Lando repeated. “Why? Because she wasn’t born in Singapore?”

“It’s more than that. Auntie Eleanor is a very traditional woman, just like every woman in our family. To her, someone like Rachel doesn’t understand or respect our family’s values and traditions. And,” you hesitated for a moment, “she probably thinks Rachel is only with Nick because of our family’s money.”

Lando’s jaw tightened slightly. “That’s really ridiculous,” he said firmly. “Nick and Rachel clearly love each other. Even a blind person can see that.”

“I know, I know,” you agreed, letting out a sigh. “But Nick is the only child and son, and just like Uncle Philip, his father and Ah Ma’s only son—he's the presumptive heir to the family fortune. Auntie Eleanor wants someone for Nick who comes from the same kind of background, someone who’s good enough based on her standards. Kaki lang.”

“Kaki lang?” Lando repeated, head tilting at the unfamiliar phrase that caught his attention.

“It’s a Hokkien phrase,” you said with a small smile. “It means our kind of people. Someone who’s from the same world. In this case, someone from an old money family like ours.”

“So…is that what your family thinks about us?” Lando leaned back slightly, processing everything. “Do they think I’m not kaki lang?”

You closed your suitcase with a final zip and turned to him, moving to sit beside him on the bed. “Lan, baby,” you said softly, placing a hand on his arm. “Definitely not. No. My family loves you. Ah Ma adores you. You saw how happy she was tonight when she saw you. My parents think you’re wonderful, they’ve never said a single bad thing about you.”

Lando looked at you, his expression still a little uncertain. “But…with all these expectations about family and background, I can’t help but wonder what they really think. I mean, you come from an environment where family and tradition are everything.”

You reached up to cup his cheek, tilting his face toward you. “Listen to me, Lando Norris,” you said firmly. “You’re part of my life, and my family has welcomed you with open arms. You saw it tonight—the way my Dad was so happy for you after your win, the way Ah Ma hugged you and told you to eat more. If they didn’t approve of you, they wouldn’t treat you that way at all.”

“You’re sure?” he asked quietly, his gaze softened as he searched your eyes.

You nodded. “A hundred percent. You don’t have to worry about what anyone else thinks. You’re with me, and that’s all that matters.”

“Alright,” he murmured. “I trust you.”

You leaned in, pressing a light kiss to his forehead. “Good. Now, let’s get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

Lando chuckled softly. “Yeah, especially for you. I’ll miss you while you’re off playing bodyguard for Rachel.”

You laughed, the sound light and warm. “I’ll miss you too.”

[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝜗𝜚 𝓈𝑜𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

· ─────── ⋆⋅ 🝣 ⋅⋆ ─────── · 

Didn't expect me to write more about Sol, did you? Honestly, I needed to do more research into his character, after all, since I kinda ignored him in the game as soon as Crowe showed up. Like, no wonder he did what he thought he had to do.  

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

I mixed a bit of canon and my headcanons for Crowe and Sol in this one—yep, once again! This time, I kept it focused on just four kinks to keep it short and sweet. I'm still learning about the BDSM community, and honestly, it's been really eye-opening.

A close friend (college roommate: adding on the fact she adores Sol—Sorry not sorry, love) of mine has been super helpful, sharing and explaining things about the BDSM scene to add more depth to my writing.

A lot of my inspiration comes from her, along with the Tumblr fanfic community and the original creator's work. I try to blend what feels true to the characters while throwing in my own twist. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Starting, I’ve noticed that TKATB fans have their unique preferences when it comes to Sol or Crowe.

For example, fans who gravitate toward Sol tend to enjoy the idea of him being dominant—whether it’s being in control of him or just envisioning him taking charge. It’s that mix of power and intensity that gets people excited. You know who you are, you freaks!

On the other hand, fans of Crowe are drawn to his reliability, his deep understanding, and his caring nature. He’s willing to guide you through anything, offering both emotional support and strength. It’s comforting, isn’t it? And yes, I’m a freak too—I get it.

✑ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

Naturally, I had to start with my man—Jericho, or Crowe, as he's known. He exudes a mysterious, almost savior-like presence, though the details are still unclear. I WANNA KNOW SO BAD.

His style is effortlessly sharp, and his quiet confidence makes him instantly trustworthy. Reliable, steady, and composed, Crowe is the perfect support when life feels overwhelming. His charm is subtle, blending good looks with an alluring personality—irresistible, without ever being flashy. 

Now, let’s address the question: Can you see Crowe as kinky?

At first glance, no. Not. To a stranger, he’s too put together, with not even the faintest hint of anything unconventional beneath the surface. But as you get to know him, that answer begins to shift. Slowly, subtly, he reveals a side of himself that hints at complexity—an edge just beneath his polished exterior. However, don’t expect anything extreme or overtly wild.

What he does reveal is never too much but always just enough to leave you captivated—and maybe, just maybe, a little curious.

✑ Vanilla (Soft Dom…) 

For Crowe preferences! 

He's the ultimate soft, warm partner. Like, you just know he's all about the quiet, comforting vibes. No crazy power dynamics or rough kinks—he's all about that steady, affectionate love. It's Vanilla, but in the best way possible, full of layers. He’s not rushing anything, just enjoying the little things, taking his time, and making sure you feel heard and cherished. 

When you're with him, it's all slow and gentle—he’s not here for intense extremes. His love is patient, thoughtful, and wrapped in warmth. Every touch, every word, is like a soft caress, just so deliberate and tender. 

And honestly? There's no need for anything crazy. Crowe's happy to explore your connection, build that trust, and just savor the passion that grows naturally between you two. It's the kind of love that builds and lingers long after. 

Now… Crowe might be a soft dom—nah he IS A SOFT DOM.

Crowe’s not the type to push you past your limits just for the thrill of it. He’s not into playing mind games or testing how far he can take things. No, Crowe’s power is the quiet kind, the kind that makes you feel safe without even having to try. He knows the real strength is in taking care of someone, not in forcing them into anything they’re not ready for.  

When you’re with him, it’s like he’s always tuned into you, always listening, always aware of exactly what you need. He’s the guy who doesn’t take, but gives—gives you everything he can, with a level of care that’s almost overwhelming. And even though he’s gentle, don’t get it twisted—he’s still a tease. He’s the kind of man who’ll leave marks on your skin, a subtle reminder that you're his. But it's all in the way he leads, in that steady hand that takes yours, guiding you through every little moment.  

There’s nothing loud about Crowe—other than his moans and whining. I SWEAR he has pretty moans.

He doesn’t demand anything and doesn’t rush you, but he has this way of making you feel like you’re the only person in the room. When he touches you, it’s with a confidence that leaves you breathless but also comforted. He’ll press his forehead against yours, his hand guiding yours down to your stomach, just so you can feel his bulge inside you,how much he wants you, how much he’s thinking about you at that moment. 

There’s no need for words—just that connection, that intense eye contact that says everything.  

But yeah, he’ll also let you think you have the upper hand for a minute. Let you believe you’ve got him cornered, like you're finally taking control… only for him to flip the switch, regaining control without you even realizing.  

With Crowe, it’s not about begging or pleading for pleasure—it’s about your happiness, your satisfaction. His version of dominance is the kind that wraps around you like a warm blanket, soft and cozy. He just wants to see you smile, hear you laugh—moan, and whine under him, and know that every moment spent with him is full of happiness.  

So, if you're into a soft dom who values deep emotional connection, tenderness, and affection, Crowe’s your man! He just wants you to trust him, to let go and let him care for you. Let him be there for you in every single way, in every moment. 

And in that, he gives you all the security you’ll ever need.

✑ Praise (giving + receiving)

Crowe is all about Praise, and affection through words. Imagine him pulling you close, whispering in your ear while his fingers gently trace patterns along your skin. 

“You’re such a good girl for me, look at how well you take me, love. That’s my girl, always so ready for me, aren’t you?” His words make you feel safe, wanted, and cherished.

He doesn’t wait for you to ask for reassurance—he gives it freely, letting you know how much he appreciates having you around, and how much he loves seeing you smile. And when it comes to your body? He knows every inch of it like he’s got a personal map of your every curve and spot. He might even joke, “No one will ever know you like I do. I’ve ruined you for everyone else, haven’t I?”

Crowe has this vibe about him, like he’s always hungry to make sure you're feeling amazing, but don’t forget to show him some love, too. He thrives on hearing you praise him, especially when you whisper how much you need him, and how much he’s doing for you. The sound of your voice, the words you say—they get to him, melt him down until his heart's pounding.

Now and then, he’ll pull back, checking in on you, “You okay? Am I pushing you too far?” It’s not just about the rush for him. He wants you to be comfortable, to be in sync with him as he takes you through everything, slow and steady, giving you all that love. “That’s it, you're doing so well,” he’ll say, his voice smooth like syrup, making sure you know you're adored.

But here’s the thing: if you keep praising him, or if you’re the one in control, just wait. Crowe’s mouth? It’ll get filthy. AND I MEAN FILTHY. He can’t help it, don't be mean now...

I mean, you can. You giving him head? Taking his cock deep inside your throat, feeling he's about to cum, then you pulled back, teasing him. He'll say, "Please, my love, you were doing so good on my cock—please, please, keep going, I need that tongue of yours."

One of his favorite things is when you’re so into it that he can just forget what you say and speak directly to you, but in a way that’ll make your body react before your mind even catches up. Like, he’ll whisper, “God, you taste so damn good. Missed me, huh? Just wanna be filled up, don't you?”

His words drip against you, his eyes dark with heat, like he's speaking to your body, not even acknowledging your moans. “Such a good fucking pussy. Always making me feel so damn good. Want me to stuff you full, hm?”

And when it’s all done? Crowe doesn’t just drop it and move on. He’s got aftercare down to an art. He’ll guide you through it, keep you close, making sure you’re okay, settled, and cared for, getting ready to do it all again whenever you’re ready!

✑ Experimentalist

Crowe is the kind of man who never wants to leave any stone unturned, especially when it comes to experiences.

There was something about him that screamed experimentalist—like he needed to try everything, no matter how wild or unconventional. When it came to relationships, he was always up for anything, which meant he'd probably had more relationship experiences than most people you knew. 

His mind is open, impossibly so, and he had an insatiable curiosity that could never be satisfied. He’d never form an opinion on something without diving in and getting his first-hand taste. If there was something new to try, something out-of-the-box—Crowe was there, ready to explore. 

And honestly? He didn’t even need you to ask twice. If you suggested something wild, he’d be all in—his enthusiasm infectious, his curiosity never-ending.

However, he's pretty vanilla when it comes to experimenting, so don't expect him to go TOO hardcore. If there's a kink suited to his taste and he masters it? Oh, Babe, you'll feel it—so much in fact.

Take ropes, for example. Blindfolds? Handcuffs? Oh, he is intrigued. But, again, don’t expect anything brutal. He isn't the type to be into floggers or paddles; no, pain isn't needed for his skills. It is his anticipation. The slow burn of him carefully tying you up, not in a rush, but with the kind of patience that made every moment last longer. 

When his hands hovered over your skin, it wasn’t just touch—it was electric. He’d make sure to linger, let his fingers graze over every inch, just enough to make you shiver, your breath hitching in the air between you. It wasn’t about hurting you, not at all. No, it was all about the build-up—the moment when the ropes or restraints were placed just so, tightening the tension between you both until it was practically unbearable. 

And then? When you finally let go, it was a release so sweet and steady that it left you breathless. No rushing, no quick fixes—just a slow, fulfilling pleasure.

Adding on, Crowe loved the idea of restraint. Whether for fun, for art, or for that extra little spark of excitement, there was something about having you completely at his mercy. 

And if you ever flipped the script? If he was the one getting tied up? Like I said, Crowe will be just as filthy when he lets his guard down. 

✑ Dacryphillia

Okay, hear me out. I know what you’re thinking—"Crowe? He would never hurt me. Why would he want to see me cry?" And I get it, really. This is one of those wild ideas but just stick with me for a second.

You know how he’s all about emotions and deep connections, right? Get it?

He gets this deep fascination with what you feel and show, especially when it’s raw. Here’s where it gets interesting: Dacryphilia. Yeah, I’m talking about that thing where someone gets... well, aroused by tears, by the sound of you sobbing, the whole mess of emotions. 

So, let’s imagine this: You’re begging him, pleading for more. Your face is a mess of emotions, eyes watery, tears rolling down your cheeks. And yeah, he’s gonna ask if you’re okay because that’s the kind of man he is—always checking, always making sure. But if you keep begging for more? Oh, that’s when it gets dangerous. 

Each desperate plea of yours, each tremor in your voice, just fuels this fire inside him, an all-consuming fire. His eyes? They’re practically glowing, deep blue, and locked on you like he's drowning in you, in every little thing you’re feeling.

You can feel him there, so close you can almost taste his breath on your skin. His lips brush against your ear, a soft, teasing whisper sending shivers down your spine. "So desperate for me already, huh? We haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet..." His voice is low, and dangerous, like he’s savoring every second of this.

You know he’s enjoying this. Every inch of him is hooked, and once he has you like this, there’s no going back.

Crowe’s could be teasing you for what feels like hours, driving you wild with a mix of pleasure and frustration. He’s pulled every bit of sensation from you, your body trembling with each orgasm, each touch—until you’re left aching for more. You’ve come undone on his fingers, his tongue, but now, you’re desperate in a way that makes your chest ache. You need him, inside of you, filling you up, but he’s holding back. Just barely, he brushes against you, grinning at the whine that slips from your lips.

His head teases your entrance, and you can’t stop yourself from begging, voice shaky, "Please... Please, please." You repeated. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision as they fall helplessly. The emptiness without him feels unbearable.

Crowe tilted his head, the smirk on his face practically dripping with playful mockery. “Just please?” He dragged the word out slowly, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Tell me what you want. Can’t do anything unless you say it. What is it you’re begging for?” His hand slid up your stomach, hand pushing lightly as if testing the waters. 

He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, the playful glint in his eyes shifting into something darker, more calculating. “You want me to fill you up, don’t you?”

His grin stretched wider as you stumbled over your words, desperate and disordered, pleading for more. He could tell you were unraveling, and it only pushed him further, each whimper was like a small victory. 

“You’re falling apart, love,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need... just say the word.” You could barely focus as the desperation built into your chest. His control over you was unnerving, yet exhilarating. The tears on your cheeks were a mix of frustration and need, a silent scream for him. 

“I need you, Crowe. Please...” Your voice was broken, but he was the one who was in control, studying the way you reacted like a willing experiment.

Crowe’s hand lifts gently to your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears streaming down your face. He gives you a soft grin, his voice low and teasing. “Already crying for me, huh?” he murmurs, almost amused. His thumb, slick with your tears, slips past your lips, letting you taste the salty remnants of your emotions. "We’ve just started," he adds, a soft chuckle escaping him. 

Before you can respond, his hips jerk forward, pushing into you with one swift, forceful motion. The shock of it makes your breath catch, and Crowe can’t help but smirk, his eyes glinting with that dangerous, experimental gleam.

Every move, calculated and deliberate, is part of his twisted exploration. And you? You’re the willing subject.

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁

Sol is described as a “stinky basement-dwelling yandere”—ngl, this alone made me laugh. He’s a quiet kid, the one who lingered at the edges of every room, observing, never quite fitting in.

Beneath his reserved exterior was a complexity most couldn’t fathom. He’s incredibly smart, with a sharpness that slipped through his words when he spoke, though he rarely bothered to. His talents leaned toward the arts, paintings, and writings.

And yet, at the end of the day, Sol isn’t exactly smooth. He was hopelessly inexperienced when it came to relationships. He gets no bitches, and honestly, he probably doesn’t even try. But in his inexperience is a certain rawness, and once you did get to know him, he’ll flirt or charm you. But before, he just watched and wanted.  

Now, let’s address the question: Can you see Sol as kinky?

Yes, let’s not sugarcoat it—he is kinky asf. Of course, he is. There was no way someone as quiet and repressed as Sol didn’t have a horny side, one he tried to keep buried but couldn’t fully hide due to his love for you. 

✑ Switch (A Pervert…)

Now, about Sol’s... preferences. 

From reading his relationship information card and playing the game. He is a paradox, a Switch in every sense of the word. He didn’t neatly fit into the mold of “always dominant” or “forever submissive.” Oh no, that would be far too mundane for someone like him. He's not a standard yandere people.

Sol is a man of extremes, a “pervert” in the most endearing, shameless sense of the word. He believed in living freely, without the shackles of societal expectations or traditional constraints. Ethics, morality, conventional roles—he’d toss them aside without hesitation if they stood in the way of his desires.   

When he takes the reins as Dominant, Sol is the type to lean into theatrics, pushing boundaries with a devilish grin and that mischievous gleam in his eyes. He had a talent for making the experience unforgettable, for making you feel as though the entire world had melted away, leaving only the two of you. But when the tables turned, when Sol found himself in the more submissive role, he’d throw himself into it with equal fervor. 

He’d challenge you to prove your worth, tease and push until you stepped up to the plate, and then—when you finally did—he’d surrender so completely that it'll feel like a victory worth savoring.  

To Sol, sex and relationships weren’t just about power dynamics or tradition. They were a playground for exploration, a place where the only rule was to follow what felt right. With his “anything goes” mentality, Sol turned every interaction into a kaleidoscope of passion and unpredictability. 

As mentioned, Sol, can’t help himself when it comes to you.

Let’s say he has this thing—Voyeuristic Disorder, to be precise, a fancy word for being a pervert. Dosn't care to see anyone else naked. Only you he wishes to see. He was obsessed with watching you, whether you knew it or not. In public or private, it didn’t matter.

He just liked being there, lurking in the shadows, soaking in every moment. Watching you do the most intimate things, completely unaware that he was there. 

There was something so exhilarating about seeing you—your bare skin, the way you moved, the little things you did when you thought no one was watching. He couldn’t resist. The way your body reacted, the sounds you made when you didn’t know he was there—it was all he needed. 

Deadass, I’m shocked that the creator of the game never added a specific scene where you were taking care of yourself in bed—you freak, oblivious to him sneaking a peek from the window, his hand on his cock, jacking himself off, doing exactly what he does best. Watching. 

He didn’t let societal norms dictate how he expressed himself or who he loved. He was unapologetically himself—messy, chaotic, and a little too intense for most people’s taste. But for those brave enough to step into his world, you, well, if you picked him, that is.

Sol will offer an experience unlike any other: one filled with unrelenting honesty, unbridled passion, and a love that refuses to be anything less than extraordinary.  

✑ Praise (Receiving)

Sol isn't the type of man you’d peg as desperate for validation—at least, not at first glance. His sharp, confident exterior gave the impression of someone who had the world at his feet, who didn’t flinch under pressure or crack beneath judgmental stares. 

But peel back the layers of this supposed nonchalant and cool type of man, and you’d find a truth that was much more human, much more raw. Sol craved praise. Why? Perhaps it was the lack of it throughout his life. His track record for romance was, let’s say, less than impressive. Not because he lacked charm or good looks—he had both in spades—but because his overbearing aura and unapologetic eccentricities tended to drive most people away. 

They didn’t understand him, couldn’t see past the way he challenged conventions. He wore his "loser" title like armor. After all, who cared if he didn’t have admirers lined up at his door? He didn’t need anyone... right? Yet, when someone, such as you, did manage to offer him an honest compliment, something sincere, it was like watching a dam break. 

His confident smirk would falter for a second, his eyes softening, betraying the vulnerability he worked so hard to conceal. Sol wasn’t accustomed to receiving love—real, genuine love—and when it came, it hit him like a truck

✑ Masochist

The first time you noticed Sol’s tendency to endure pain, you’d thought it was just his stubborn nature. He’s always been the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve when it came to you—raw, unfiltered, and unapologetically vulnerable. But as time went on, you began to see something deeper beneath that tough, rebellious exterior. 

Sol wasn’t just someone who endured pain; he seemed to embrace it…? almost thrive on it, especially when it comes to you.

Sol is, without a doubt, a masochist. Not in the twisted, sadistic sense, but in an almost heartbreaking way. He’d do anything to please you, to earn your attention—even if it meant enduring the unendurable. 

He could never be a sadist. No, he loved you too much to ever inflict pain on you, physically or emotionally. The very thought of hurting you would make his stomach churn. Instead, he channeled all his devotion into being by your side, no matter the cost.

There were moments when his tendencies became painfully obvious. Like he gets into fights back to back, defending himself or you—for example, the movie theater bathroom or the Campus library (With or without.)

You hadn’t/have even been there to witness it—Sol hadn’t wanted you to see him like that, bruised and bloody. But when you found out later, he brushed it off with that crooked grin of his, the one that hid just how far he’d go for you. “It’s nothing,” he’d said, wiping the blood from his lip. “They deserved it for talking about you like that.”

Or that time with Crowe. It had been an innocent moment, just you laughing at something Crowe said, but to Sol, it might as well have been a dagger to his chest. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, nails digging into his palms until they drew blood. He didn’t want to feel that way—jealousy mixed with self-loathing—but he couldn’t help it. Watching you walk away with someone else, even for a moment, was unbearable. 

It wasn’t that he enjoyed the pain; it was just that he could handle it, even when it tore him apart inside.  

And in the quiet, intimate moments, Sol’s masochistic streak became something else entirely. If you picked him willingly, He’ll trust you, and loved you, enough to let down every last defense he had. He didn’t just endure pain; with you, he could find meaning in it. 

A sharp bite, nails dragging down his back—he shivered under your touch, his body responding in ways he didn’t fully understand but didn’t question. For him, it wasn’t just about the sensation; it was about the connection, the way it brought him closer to you.  

Masochism, for Sol, wasn’t about pain tolerance. It wasn’t about how much he could take. It was about the way he found a strange, twisted kind of comfort in it. The pain wasn’t the point; it was the context, the giver—you. Sol would never seek out pain for its own sake, but if it was for you, if it meant being close to you, he’d endure anything.  

Even in the game, he seemed to attract hardship like a magnet, always the one taking the hits—physically and emotionally. Whether it was the bullies who thought he was an easy target or the way he seemed to hurt himself just to prove his devotion to you, Sol carried it all with a quiet, unshakable resolve. Because, at the end of the day, it wasn’t about the pain. It was about you.  

And he’d never stop. For Sol, loving you wasn’t just a choice—it was a part of who he was. If being close to you meant enduring the worst the world could throw at him, he’d take it all with a smile. Because that’s who Sol is. A damn masochist.  

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.  

✑ Somnophillia 

It was inevitable, wasn’t it? Everyone could see this coming from a mile away—there was simply no other possibility. Sol, in all his twisted complexity, had long blurred the line between obsession and affection, his love taking on forms most would never dare to comprehend. 

Some might accuse him of holding darker urges, like necrophilia, drawn to the lifelessness of the dead. But no, that isn’t Sol. Despite his obsessions, there was a deep-rooted sentimentality within him—a refusal to let go, to lose. If anything, he had made it clear in his own hauntingly poetic way: he’d rather die with you than live without you. 

Yet, that didn’t mean his desires were any less unnerving. No, Sol’s particular brand of affection manifested in somnophilia, a fascination with the vulnerability of sleep, the beauty of your unconscious form. To him, those moments were sacred—your body relaxed, your mind adrift in dreams. It was when he felt closest to you, unguarded and free from the chaos of the waking world.  

Before your relationship, it started innocuously enough—or so it seemed. He’d find ways to end up at your apartment, invited by some pretense or perhaps even through sheer charisma. And then, ever so subtly, he’d lace your drink with something to make you drowsy, to keep you from suspecting as his fingers ghosted on you. 

You lay there, utterly still, utterly serene, your chest rising and falling with the kind of peaceful rhythm that seemed to still the chaos of the world around you.  

It was maddening, the way you looked so untouched by the noise that haunted him, your lips slightly parted, the barest whisper of breath escaping them. Every exhale was a siren call, soft and unassuming, but it gripped him like a vice.  

His gaze wandered, helplessly drawn down the curve of your cheek to your lips. They looked soft, and inviting in a way that felt almost cruel. He wanted to press his own to them, to taste whatever peace you’d found and see if he could borrow just a fraction of it for himself.  

But it wasn’t just your lips. His eyes traced lower, following the lines of your body, the way your clothes clung to you, hinting at the form beneath. He shouldn’t be thinking like this—he knew he shouldn’t. And yet the thought of you, warm and pliant beneath him, invaded his mind, unrelenting.  

He swallowed hard, trying to shake it off, but the more he fought, the more vivid the thoughts became. The sound of your soft sighs, the way you’d move under his touch, how you’d look at him—not like this, not sleepily and unaware, but awake, wanting.  

God, he was losing it.  

Sol leaned back, running a hand through his hair, forcing his gaze away from you for a moment. But it didn’t matter—your image was burned into his mind, and there was no escape. Watching you sleep was his guilty pleasure, though his guilt barely lasted long enough to stop him from pressing further. 

Once the two of you were together, the dynamics shifted, but only slightly. Sol’s obsession deepened, and the lines of consent became more of a gray haze in his mind. To him, love was devotion—complete and all-encompassing. And if you loved him, shouldn’t you accept him entirely? Shouldn’t you trust him to care for you, even when you weren’t awake to see it? 

He was careful, always so careful with you, so don’t worry! 

His lips found their way to the sensitive curve of your inner thigh, his movements slow and deliberate as if savoring every second of this quiet moment. You stirred faintly, a sleepy whimper escaping your lips as the warmth of his mouth brushed against you, teasing and tender.

Sol’s hands gripped your hips gently but firmly; his fingers splayed across your skin to hold you in place. You tried to shift, your body instinctively responding to the soft, wet pressure of his tongue on your needy cunt, but his strength was unyielding.

“Shh,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly whisper in the stillness. One hand slid up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his thumb lingering for a moment as he marveled at the serene expression you wore, so unaware of the devotion he poured into every touch. “You’re even more beautiful like this,” he breathed, his words an intimate confession meant only for the dark.

To Sol, this meant everything. 

This was the essence of love itself—intimacy beyond words, a bond that transcended anything others could hope to understand. He wasn't like anyone else; he knew that, and perhaps that’s what made this feel so special. So sacred. There was a quiet possessiveness in the way he worshiped you, a deep yearning to etch himself into every corner of your being, to ensure no one else could ever touch the part of you that belonged to him.

And as you stirred again, a soft moan escaping your lips, Sol smirked against your skin, the faintest edge of smug satisfaction curling at the corner of his mouth. You might not fully wake, but you’d feel him—his touch, his adoration, eventually his cock. You’d know, even in sleep, that you were his world.

To be with him, you’d have to accept all of him. Every tender smile, every soft whisper... and every shadowed obsession that came with it. 

· ─────── ⋆⋅ 🝣 ⋅⋆ ─────── · 

[ahgasegotarmy116]

BANG-ABLE | Jeon Jungkook | Drabble 4

Summary: You get upset when you see other girls flirting with Jungkook but he always makes sure that you know you're the only one he wants Pairing: f!reader x Sex Bot Jungkook Word Count: 2.1k~ Warnings: Smuttttt hehe Requested by an anon 💜

"So yeah I was thinking maybe we could hang out sometime? My friends and I are going out on Friday a-" "Can I come?" I ask, cutting off the woman at the coffee shop that's decided to chat up Jungkook.

I swear I leave his man alone for five minutes and he's already got a line of woman drooling over him.

"Um I'm sorry...who are you?" she asks, scoffing as if she owns him and I'm the one that's imposing. "She's my girlfriend" he says and pulls me in by my hips, kissing me in front of her to make a point leaving her turning her face in disgust.

"Way to lead a girl on" she huffs and walks off.

"Not his fault that you couldn't take a hint Honey" I call after her, telling myself I can't keep bringing him out with me when I'm in the wrong headspace.

I just wanted some company though...plus Ava was busy so I didn't have much of a choice.

"Hi Baby" Jungkook says, coaxing my focus back over to him. "Hi" I grumble, crossing my arms over my chest, clearly still upset making him smile.

"I don't know why you let them talk to you" I huff and sit down at the table he had gotten us with him sliding in across from me, lacing our fingers together and placing a kiss on my knuckles.

"Because I like seeing that look on your face. Plus I know you get satisfied when you see their reactions, knowing that you have something they want but couldn't get even if they tried" he reminds me but it's not good enough to get me out of this bad mood, not today.

"I would rather you just ignored them or told them you have a girlfriend" I huff for what feels like the twelfth time but it doesn't seem to bother him.

"You know I hardly ever get to interact with people besides you and Ava, just think of it as research" he explains leaving me cocking a brow and echoing the last word.

"Yeah you know, I get to be outside of the four walls of our home and learn how to evolve and treat you better and you get peace of mind because you know I'd never want anyone else but you" he continues leaving me sighing, knowing he really doesn't get the chance to get out much and observe the world.

His patterns and behaviors do switch up a bit every time I bring him out with me so I have to admit that it does make things seem less monotonous, makes him feel real.

I just don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing...

"Come on" he says and gets up, waiting for me to follow and I do so cautiously. "I'm not gonna hurt you or anything" he laughs. "I just know you're not gonna enjoy being here anymore after what happened so let's just go for a walk" he offers, holding out his hand for me and so I resign to his idea and take it, allowing him to lead the way.

Our walk is quiet, contemplative even and it leaves him debating on whether or not to ask me what's wrong when he can infer the answer already, or at least part of it.

"I'm sorry" he says and pulls me aside to a more secluded area, gaining us a little more privacy. "I know you're just acting on your programing but I'm just not in the best headspace right now" I admit, having let my emotions simmer under the surface for a while now, leaving him placing a kiss on my forehead, a further expression of his apologetic state.

"You wanna talk about it?" he ask, cupping my face but not making me look at him, knowing I'd rather have a second to debate on if I'm ready to yet. I decidedly shake my head, realizing I'm not and he hums, not pushing it further, knowing that although in an area hidden from most of the people surrounding us this is not a place for uncomfortable conversations.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks, now bringing my face back over to his, stroking my cheek and giving me a sad smile, thinking it might make me feel better and so I nod, accepting his request.

He places his lips against mine, the first time he's done so since we left the house, knowing that public displays of affection tend to make me a little uncomfortable at times. This time the kiss feels different though, I can feel the intensity growing with every meeting, a familiar fluttering felt deep within me.

"Jungkook wait" I gasp, the need for air almost forgotten, trailing his lips down my neck as a compromise but not ceasing his efforts to convey how much he wants me.

"Jungkook someone could see us" I reprimand him half heartedly, tilting my head to the side automatically, my body going through the same song and dance we've done time and time again. "Don't worry, I'll be able to sense them coming" he says, alerting me to another one of his features that I had yet to discover.

"You mean to tell me you have sensors that'll alert you if someone is coming just so we can have sex in public?" I scoff, pushing him off of me so I can see his face, needing to know if he's lying or not. "Well...yeah" he says as if it's the most normal thing in the world...news flash, nothing is normal with him.

"What have I gotten myself into?" I sigh, closing my eyes and rubbing my temples giving him the opportunity to come in closer again, placing his hands on my hips and continuing his onslaught of kisses, no doubt leaving a mark or two.

"Let me make you feel good. Just for a little bit, yeah?" he asks, no doubt sensing my arousal that's starting to leak out. "Are you sure you'll know before someone sees?" I ask after contemplating it for a second and he nods, his kisses now on my collarbone, threatening to go lower.

"I know you want to" he temps and I can't ignore that I do. We both know that this would help improve my mood just a little bit so I don't blame his programing for coming up with this solution. My resigning sigh replaced by a whine, him biting down on my collarbone to make me answer sooner.

"Think you can make me cum in three minutes?" I ask, challenging his abilities when I know for a fact that he can. "I don't need three minute doll" he chuckles and slides his hand from my waist to my hip to my thigh and slips it up my skirt, taking his time to tease me making me groan from impatience.

"Come on, let me take my time with you" he rasps in my ear, playing with the elastic of my underwear. "We don't have time" I remind him but he snaps it back making me jump from the surprise abuse to my hip.

"We have plenty of time" he counters and places a kiss below the shell of my ear, his fingers now changing course and trailing their way to my inner thigh, soon rubbing me through my thong, the damp spot on it undeniable making me mewl at the sensation.

"Jungkook please" I whine, fed up with the teasing so he relents this time, pushing it to the side and running his finger through my folds, catching me off guard when it starts to vibrate against me, placing my hand over my mouth, preventing the moan that was about to come out from being completely audible to any passerby, no matter if they can see us or not.

He dips a finger inside of me, rubbing his thumb against my clit, kicking up the buzzing sensation, making me whimper, the pleasure bubbling up sooner than I had expected.

I had no fucking idea he could do this, the vibrating abilities seemingly hidden from me for a moment like this, when he knows I need to cum hard and fast, voyeurism not being one of my kinks...yet.

"Fuck, Jungkook. Please" I gasp, the intensity of his fingers enough to tip me over but when he kneels down in front of me I about lose it there. His mouth attaching to me immediately, his tongue exploring my cunt and making my eyes roll back, my throat gone completely dry.

I lace my fingers through his hair and pull at his locks, the balance against the tree not being enough for me anymore as he throws one of my legs over his shoulder, granting him better access, his slurping against me making my eyes roll back, forbidden sounds from him making me lose my sense of sanity, forgetting where we are.

Once he places his vibrating thumb on my clit again I'm gone, cumming harder than I have in a while, the intensity of it leaving my knees weak, threatening to make me fall to them.

Once he's stopped licking me clean, the mewls from overstimulation heard loud and clear he gets out from under my dress and smirks at me, clearly satisfied with the work he's done. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, not bothering to try to clean up properly, getting off his knees and pressing his lips against mine again, the taste of myself of his lips enough to make me wet again.

I hear a scoff from behind Jungkook and I bite down on his lip in surprise, backing away from him, him not flinching at all with the lack of feeling absent from his robotic state. "This is a public park you freaks" the same woman from the coffee shop reprimands us, mortified by the scene she happened upon.

"Had to make it up to her for earlier" he shrugs leaving her scoffing once more, her obvious favorite form of response and storming out. Her cheeks now tinted a dark pink from sheer embarrassment, but no doubt mixed with anger.

Jungkook chuckles and turns back to me, expecting my reaction to be just as amused as his but I'm mad. More than mad I'm furious.

"You said you'd be able to stop before someone got close enough to see us!" I growl through gritted teeth making him coo at my now humiliated reaction. "What? I figured it would be best to show her who I'm really interested in, and clearly belong to" he says and pulls me in by my hips with me reluctantly dragging my feet all the way.

"Love you" he chuckles, infuriating me further. "I hate you" I counter and he laughs, "I'm sure you do" he replies and turns to walk away from me making me chase after him.

"Hey! I'm not done talking to you" I call out, trying to yank him to stop but of course it doesn't work, his strength unparalleled leaving me again dragging behind him awkwardly sighing before interlinking our arms to keep him close on this suddenly crowded sidewalk, people no doubt coming out to watch the sunset, me completely disregarding that replaced by my anger towards him.

"Let's just go home, we can continue our conversation there" he chuckles leaving me now being the one to scoff, muttering curses towards him to myself, his hearing impeccable, never being able to hide even the slightest whisper.

"Yes but I'm your dumb fucking robot, emphasis on the fucking" he says, his corny try of making me smile unsuccessful, leaving me rolling my eyes, the reaction although not initially expected making him the one who's smiling as a result.

"I love you" he tries again but is met with silence, "Oh Jungkook I love you too, you know exactly how to eat me out just right. Oh please won't you do it again?" he says in literally my voice, yet another feature hidden from me.

"Shut up!" I growl making him laugh, my clear surprise to it thoroughly amusing.

"Didn't you read the manual? I'm surprised you haven't asked me about my other features besides the basics of replicating human sex" he says, loud enough for just anyone to hear but luckily we're out of earshot. "I thought it was pretty self explanatory" I say in a hushed tone after placing my hand over his mouth, him licking it as a result making me withdraw it immediately.

"What? 'How to fuck your robot' wasn't interesting enough for you?" he chuckles, using the term Ava and I made up for said manual. "Just shut up and get in the car" I groan and he thankfully does as he's told, telling me everything he can do in very, very explicit detail all the way home.

"You wanna try some of them out" he temps, sliding his hand along my thigh once we pull up to the house. "NO!" I growl and get out of the car, slamming the door leaving a very very satisfied Jungkook to follow behind.

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[the-real-loser-otaku-girl]

Different fashions reddit user say is the same thing and why they are not

i cant believe this is a post i am making lol but ima clear up how these reddit users r wrong lol (pls dont harass anyone this is just for educational purposes)

Dark girly vs Jirai

Dark girly kei is a fashion that predates jirai (jirai is a lifestyle!!!) The only reason Girly kei is associated with jirai is cuz the girly kei style is what was trending when jirai became a thing. i go more in depth about jirai here

with the next sections i do not know as much sadly but i shall use the knowledge i do have and please feel to jump in!

Cutecore vs Jojifuku

cutecore 1 2

jojifuku 1 2

As we can see there is a lot of overlap. Cutecore is a style that emerged around 2020 (🩷) meanwhile jojifuku is from the 2010s (🩷)

Cutecore often has themes of spookier stuff (not always tho!!!)

Jojifuku (女児服) translates to girls clothing. the look of it is to look like youre wearing kids clothes.

(again i dont know much about these styles so feel free to correct me!)

Coquette vs Hime kei

Honestly I dont know what they are really talking about here lol. Hime gyaru? Hime lolita? Himekaji? So ill show how each one is different form one another

Coquette 1 2

Hime gyaru 1 2

Hime lolita 1 2

Himekaji 1 2

Coquette is a style thats super popular on this app (tumblr) and imo its recently gotten pretty popular. meanwhile ive seen styles like himekaji dwindle in popularity (at least from what ive seen) i think its pretty obvious to see the difference with just pictures so i wont go into a lot of detail (unless you would like me to)

yes all styles of similarities but they also have noticeable differences. Some similarities include 1. all being a more feminine style 2. all often having pink colours 3. all are fashions (and more) But some differences include 1. where/when they originate 2. the silhouette/certain parts of the look 3. the popularity (and more)

Kidcore vs Decora

kidcore 1 2

Decora 1 2

Kidcore as the name states is a more "childish" style. Its very colourful and gives off nostalgic vibes.

Decora is a style that is about decorations/accessories. You cant have a decora fit without them.

Cottagecore vs Mori kei

Cottagecore 1 2

Mori kei 1 2

I dont even know where they got the idea these were the same thing lol

Cottagecore is based around wildlife, farming, cottages, nature. it has a "rural and pioneer" vibe

Mori kei is is more earthy. The best way i can think to describe the difference without rambling is cottagecore is the ppl living in the forest and mori kei is the forest? idk lol.

Rococo vs Lolita

if anything its flipped. Rococo inspired lolita. Also there is so many different types of lolita. sigh.

If you take anything from this I hope its to do your research. And not just listen to the voices you agree with. Listen to the history. Listen to the people who know what they are talking about. Pls lmk if I can explain anything better and feel free to add on! have a good day! (also i am just one source pls go do ur own research!!/nf)

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Hold My Hand, Part 2

TFW 2.0 & Winchester!sister

Requested by @casmustdiee and Anonymous

Synopsis: Jack tries to get you used to being back in the bunker, but things keep going wrong.

Warnings: angst, some torture, continuity errors, only half proofread

A/N: guys I’m still alive!

“You want anything to eat?”

You had been slowly emerging more and more from within yourself after the boys had brought you back from Asmodeus. Still, you rejected Dean’s offer of food with a tiny shake of your head.

“I’ll take a sandwich,” Jack piped up, and Dean was about to tell him to make his own sandwich when Jack gave him a hard stare. Dean had no clue what the look meant, but given that Jack had been the one to get you out of your room and talking, Dean had no choice but to trust that the kid knew what he was doing around you. So Dean made the sandwich, and he watched as Jack cut it in half, eating one half before very deliberately pushing the plate away—towards you—as if he didn’t want it anymore.

Dean caught on right away.

“What, you’re just gonna let that go to waste?” Dean asked.

Jack shrugged. “You can have it.”

Dean shook his head. “Your taste in sandwiches is crap, you and Y/N are the only ones I know that actually consider peanut butter and banana a delicacy.”

“They’re great, right Y/N?” Jack asked, earning a nod from you.

“Whatever.” Dean through his hands up. “I’m gonna make me a real sandwich.” He purposefully turned his back to you, not wanting you to feel stared at.

“I’m gonna go find Sam,” Jack said. “He might need help with research.” He hopped off his chair and left the room, leaving you almost alone with your half a sandwich.

By the time Dean had finished making his food and turned around, Jack’s sandwich was completely gone, and you looked a little brighter than you had a minute ago.

…

It was Jack’s turn to need help adjusting, and you were there every step of the way—or at least you tried to be. It was hard, since you were also trying to make sure Sam was ok after Michael disappeared, taking Dean with him.

“I thought you were training with Bobby,” you said when Jack all but stumbled into the kitchen.

“I was,” he huffed. “I just…I can’t seem to get it right. It was all so much easier with my powers.” Jack shook his head. “I just feel useless.”

“I know what you mean.” You swallowed.

“What?” Jack’s eyebrows furrowed. “You’re not useless.”

“Lately I am.” When Jack continued to stare at you with that questioning gaze, you seemed to freeze up, unable to finish your thought.

Jack stepped closer to you, taking your hand in his own and giving you a bright smile.

“You’re not useless,” he said again.

You seemed to draw strength from his hand in yours.

“Dean’s always been there for me,” you began. “Always. For anything I’ve ever needed. And now…now he’s being dragged around by some archangel, and I feel like I can’t do anything to help him.”

“It doesn’t just fall on you,” Jack said. “We’re all going to find him. I just know it.”

…

“He’s gonna be ok, right?”

Your brothers couldn’t even look at you as you watched Rowena pack up her bag. You’d finally gotten Dean back, only for it to seem like you were now losing Jack.

“There’s nothing I can do.” Rowena glanced at you for a second before turning away. “I’m sorry.”

“But—but we have to do something—“ you started to follow Rowena as she turned to the door, but Sam stepped in your way. “We can’t let Jack die!” You tried to move around Sam, but he grabbed hold of your arms.

“I’ll talk to Rowena. I think you should stay with Jack,” he said.

A fit of coughing from Jack caught your attention, and you relented, going quickly to his side.

“You’re gonna be ok,” you promised. “We’re gonna fix you.”

Jack smiled at you and squeezed your hand, but he didn’t speak.

Dean followed Sam outside, unable to bear the scene any longer.

…

They couldn’t get you to leave Jack’s side. He’d been dead for hours, but you still wouldn’t leave.

Dean had seen you like this before—you’d been the exact same way when you were only three years old, and Sam had died for the first time.

Sam had seen it too, only a few short years ago, when Dean had died. He’d had to all but drag you away from the body.

“Hey, kid,” Dean began. You didn’t even look at him. “Kid, maybe you should—“

“I’m not leaving him alone.” Your voice was firm, and Dean noticed that your grip on Jack’s cold hand tightened. “He doesn’t like to be alone. I’m not leaving him alone.”

“Sweetheart—“

“Why couldn’t I—“ your voice caught. “Why couldn’t I save him? He needed me, and I couldn’t save him.”

Dean swallowed. “You…we did the best we could, kid.”

“But it wasn’t enough!” You finally tore your gaze away from your dead friend, and Dean’s heart broke all over again at the look in your eyes. “Jack saved me, and I let him die.”

“Hey.” Dean shook his head. “This is not your—“

“Dean.” Cas stepped into the room. “Sam just left. I don’t know why, but—“

“What?” Dean jumped to his feet. “We need to find him.”

He left with Cas on his heels. You could hear Dean arguing with him the whole way out of the bunker, but you still didn’t move.

“Jack—“ you took a deep breath, squeezing Jack’s hand and wishing he would squeeze back. “Jack, I just…I miss you. And I’m so sorry, and…and I just want you to come back, ok?

“I just want you to come back.”

…

You got your wish, even if it wasn’t in the way you expected. Jack was back, but he didn’t dare use his power at the risk of losing his soul.

You didn’t care. Power or no, Jack was your best friend. But things never stayed good for long. You guys still had to fight Michael.

And it wasn’t looking good.

“If I just had my powers, I could beat him. If I could use them—“

“Jack, if you use them you lose your soul.” You shook your head. “I just got you back. And I’ve seen what losing a soul does to people. I can’t go through that again. We don’t need you to fight all our battles, Jack.” You reached out and grabbed his hand. “We’re just glad you’re here with us again.”

Jack squeezed your hand, a fleeting smile crossing his face.

“Me too.”

…

“When I gave up Dean, you didn’t think to question why?”

Jack’s hand was firmly in yours, as if he knew your intentions. You’d just watched Dean go from your big brother back into the archangel that was stealing his body, and Jack knew you wouldn’t take it well. He was right. All you wanted to do was go to him, to shake him around until Dean came back, but Jack wouldn’t let go of your arm.

Michael and Sam were arguing, but Jack ignored them as he leaned forward and whispered in your ear.

“We’ll get Dean back,” he promised. “Just be patient.” Jack’s hand squeezed yours, and it felt like he was dragging you back down to earth and clearing your head from the clouds.

…

The fight was over quickly, although it left all of you bruised. But at least Michael was now in the angel cuffs and back in the bunker. He was surprisingly calm about being captured, but that didn’t keep him from threatening anyone near him.

It didn’t help that monsters would be banging down the door any minute, thanks to Michael’s control over them.

“I’ll watch him,” you told your brother. “You guys secure the bunker.”

“Be careful,” Sam said.

“With the chained up archangel?” You tried to look relaxed. “C’mon Sam, I’ve got the easy job here.”

It would’ve been easier if the archangel wasn’t wearing your brother.

…

“So they send their weakest link to watch the archangel.” Michael was doing your best to faze you, so you did your best to ignore him. “I think I should feel insulted.”

“And you think I care why?” You cursed the subtle way your voice shook, and hoped that Michael couldn’t hear it.

“If Dean was…here…I’m sure it would worry him.” Michael leaned forward as if sharing a secret. “He doesn’t think you’re a very good hunter.”

“And I should listen to you?” You scoffed, but you doubted your voice was as steady as you wanted it.

“Well, I am in Dean’s head. And he doesn’t think you can do it, he never did. After all, it’s not like you’re a real Winchester anyway.”

“Dean thinks that?” The question was out of your mouth before you could stop it.

A smile crept its way onto Michael’s lips, and he seemed suddenly more interested in you.

“What did you expect him to think? You’re not Mary’s daughter, you’re not his real sister. You’re not like Sam to him, you never have been.”

“I—“ your voice caught in your throat. You wanted to tell Michael that it wasn’t true. You wanted to say “screw you,” you wanted to say “Dean would never,” but your voice wouldn’t work.

“Hey!” Sam’s voice startled you, and his hand was suddenly on your shoulder. “That’s enough,” he barked at Michael. “Hey.” He looked back at you, his voice softening. “Why don’t you go hang out with Jack, I’ve got him for now.”

“Actually, that won’t be necessary,” Michael spoke up. “The plan has changed, and she’ll be going with me.”

“Excuse me?” Sam glared at Michael, unfazed. That is, he was unfazed…

Until Michael stood, dropping the angel cuffs to the ground.

“The rest of you I’ll leave to my friends outside.” Michael threw his hand out, sending Sam flying away from you. “But the girl…” Michael had a hold of your arm before you could back away. “You won’t have to worry about her anymore.”

…

In the blink of an eye, you had been taken from your home; you and Michael weren’t in the bunker anymore. You’d returned to the office building that he’d turned into his personal headquarters, only this time there were half a dozen monsters in the main room. You found yourself leaning away from them, until you realized that that meant you were leaning towards Michael. It was hard to see monsters and not natural gravitate towards Dean.

This isn’t Dean, you told yourself. And you can’t forget that for even a second.

“Sir.” A werewolf stepped closer to Michael. “I thought you were—“

“Just a little change in plans,” Michael said. “Your werewolves are still locked onto my previous location?”

“Yes sir,” he said. “They should be at the bunker any minute.”

“Good.” Michael nodded. “You may go. And take the rest of these—“ he gestured at the other monsters in the room “—with you. I have some things I need to take care of in here. Alone.”

“Is that a Winchester?” Another of the monsters was eyeing you hungrily. “Did you bring us a little snack?” He started to approach, but a single glare from Michael stopped him in his tracks.

“If I wanted you to eat her, I would’ve told you that. She’s mine, understand?” Once the monster nodded, Michael smiled sardonically. “Good. Now go.”

The monsters cleared out quickly, and soon you were left alone with the archangel that taunted you with your big brother’s face.

“What am I doing here?” You tried to force your voice to come out strong, but the self-satisfied smirk that came across Michael’s face as he looked down at you said that you’d done a horrible job at that.

“You know what I’m doing here, right?” Michael asked. You didn’t answer—you could tell it was a rhetorical question—but the pleased look in Michael’s eyes at your silence had you wishing you’d said something sarcastic, like Dean would have. “I’m building a better world,” Michael continued. “Humans have had their time in the sun, but they’ve never amounted to anything. It’s time they got knocked of their pedestal. That’s why I’m having my monsters kill and turn them.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you kept me alive,” you argued. Michael’s eyes flashed in anger at your interruption, but he continued anyway.

“You’re different than your brothers, and from the rest of those fools in the bunker. Jack is too powerful to bother with, and Cas and your brothers…they’re too stubborn. But you…you’re young. Moldable. I have a plan to make this world my own, with the monsters on top. But humans…I’m keeping a few alive. Some for the monsters to feed on. And some…some who I think could be useful to me. You could be useful, with some…modifications.”

“What modifi—“

Michael’s hand shot out and closed around your throat, and before you even knew it was there you felt your breath stop.

“The first improvement I plan to make is to shut. You. Up. You need to learn your place here.” The hand around your throat was pushing down, and you felt yourself fall to your knees under the pressure. “Your life is a privilege, not a right.” The vision of Michael above you was starting to go fuzzy, but you could still make out the coldness in his eyes. “And privileges can be taken away. Do you understand me?”

You nodded mutely, and the pressure on your throat disappeared.

“You are just an example of what all humans will be. Well, all the ones I allow to live. You exist to serve those greater than you. You exist to serve me.”

“My brothers—“ Michael glared at you, but he didn’t stop you, so you continued. “My brothers will stop you. And Cas and Jack, all of them, they can stop you.”

Michael smiled patiently. Mockingly.

“You don’t really believe that,” he said. “You know your little family back in the bunker is as good as dead. And Dean—“ Michael tapped his forehead “—is tucked away quietly. I have him under control.”

“They’re stronger than you think,” you snapped.

Michael smirked and patted your head. “That’s enough out of you.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but when you tried to speak it felt like your lungs caught on fire. You curled in on yourself, rubbing at your chest while the pain slowly faded.

“As I told you,” Michael began. “You exist to serve me. If you use your abilities in a way I don’t like, I can take them away. And I will make it hurt. Every. Time.”

You stared up at Michael, until suddenly your eyes started to sting.

“Don’t look at me,” Michael snapped. “Keep your eyes down.”

You dropped your eyes down and whimpered as the pain slowly faded away, but Michael had already turned his attention to the opening door.

“Sir.” A vampire was standing in the doorway. “The bunker’s fortifications are stronger than we thought. It may take days to get through.”

Michael gritted his teeth. “Fine. Just get it done.”

Michael noticed the monster staring at you. “I see you’ve noticed my girl. This is how all humans who aren’t killed or turned should behave. Ever silent, ever obedient. Understand?”

The vampire licked his lips.

“Would you mind if I had a taste?” He stepped closer to you. “After all, a Winchester—“

“Yes, I would mind,” Michael snapped. “If you want a human, go get your own. I’ve given you the world as your oyster. But the girl is mine. Now leave me.”

You kept your eyes glued to the floor as the door swung shut. You felt the toe of Michael’s boot push at your chin, tilting your head up and in Michael’s direction.

“You should be thanking me. It would be so easy for me to let them rip you to shreds.” Michael’s eyes flashed blue, and you felt your throat tighten up. “What do you say?”

“Thank…you…” you gasped, and Michael released his magic hold on your throat.

“You’re a fast learner,” he commended. “Keep it that way, and this will be a lot less painful for you.” Michael twisted his hand, and you felt as though your ribs were twisting around and stabbing your lungs, your heart, everything. “But it can’t be completely painless. If you want a good omelet, you have to crack a few eggs. And I’ve been looking forward to breaking you.”

…

You never thought that you’d associate the sight of your big brother with pain. It took less than two days with Michael to change that.

You didn’t know if your family was still alive. You didn’t know if you’d ever see them again. You didn’t even know if Dean was still around in Michael’s head, or if he could see what was happening to you. All you knew now was pain.

“What’s the situation at the bunker?” Michael was talking to one of his many monsters, but you didn’t dare look up; not even at the mention of your family. “Are they dead yet?”

“I’m afraid not sir. But my people have told me that they’re about to break through the door now that they’ve gotten through all the warding.”

“Good. Tell them to wait until I get there.” You felt Michael’s grace tugging at your neck—your cue to look at him. When you did, he grinned at you, flashing all thirty-two pearly white teeth in a way that Dean never would have. “You’re going to come with me to watch the show,” Michael said. “And then you’ll understand just how hopeless you really are.”

…

“Y/N!” Sam’s voice was the first thing you heard when the bunker door slammed shut behind you and Michael; he wanted to do the killing himself now that the monsters had broken in. It took every ounce of strength you had not to look up and run to your big brother. Instead, you stayed obediently by Michael’s side, your eyes trained on the back of his shoes.

“Oh, she’s mine now,” Michael chuckled. “But I’m a moment it won’t matter to any of you.”

“You had your chance to kill us.” Jack stepped suddenly out from the side hallway, effectively trapping Michael between him and Sam. “And you left. Why?”

“I wanted to get things settled with this sweet little sister of yours before the massacre began,” Michael said, a cocky smirk twisting his lips. “No need for her to get killed when she’s making such a good little slave.”

“Leave her alone!” Jack’s eyes flashed yellow as he took a step toward Michael.

“Jack don’t!” Sam shook his head, and Jack stopped.

“It doesn’t matter what you do at this point,” Michael said. “I told you the story ended with your deaths, and I meant it. You can’t stop me.”

A flicker of a smile crossed Sam’s face. “Don’t be so sure about that.”

You hit the ground hard when Jack tackled you out of the way. His place was immediately taken by Castiel, who rushed Michael. Michael, taken aback, rose his hands to fight Cas a split second too late. Cas grabbed hold of Michael’s wrist and slapped the angel cuffs on him.

“They’ve been re-warded,” Sam piped in. “They’re stronger than they’ve ever been. Oh, and that warding that your monsters thought they got through? Cas booted it up again the minute you stepped inside. Your cavalry isn’t coming. At least, not in time.”

Michael scoffed, “In time for what? You still have no way to kill me, or stop me.”

“Actually we do,” Cas said. “We’re gonna get inside your head, and Dean’s gonna kick you out.”

…

“We’re gonna get Dean back,” Sam tried to tell you as Cas started to hook Michael up to one of the Men of Letters’ machines, but you didn’t look at him, keeping your eyes trained on the ground.

You could practically feel Michael’s eyes boring into you, reminding you to do as you were told and keep quiet. You didn’t think he could do anything with the angel cuffs on, but you’d learned to never underestimate Michael’s ability to punish you.

And you’d learned to never disobey him.

Sam turned his attention back to Michael—he could only fight one battle at a time, and getting Dean back took precedence for now—but Cas’s attention was suddenly on you. He walked up to you, leaning down in a failed attempt to meet your eye.

“Are you alright little one?” He asked. No answer. “You’re safe now, he can’t use his powers with the cuffs on.” Nothing. Cas sighed. “As soon as we get Dean back, we’re gonna help you, ok? You won’t have to be scared anymore.” When you still didn’t reply, Cas hesitantly turned his back on you to return to Sam and Dean.

“Me and Cas are going in after him,” Sam said. “Jack, we need you to stay here in case those monsters come in. And—“ Sam glanced at you, but you barely seemed to register anything going on in the room. “And make sure she stays safe, understand?”

“Of course. I won’t let anything happen to her…to any of you,” Jack insisted.

…

“Y/N?” Jack waited until he was sure Michael was safely in his own mind with Sam and Cas before he turned his attention to you. “Y/N, you can hear me right?”

You didn’t nod, exactly, but your head noticeably twitched up, so Jack took that as a good sign.

“Ok, ok good. I just wanna make sure you know that you’re safe. Michael isn’t gonna hurt you ever again, ok? Sam and Cas have this plan—they’re gonna talk to Dean up there in his head, and he’s gonna kick Michael out. He’ll be back to regular Dean, just like I said. We’re gonna get him back, Y/N. I promise.” Jack reached forward and wrapped his hand around yours. Your hand was limp in his, your fingers unmoving.

Jack sighed. “I know you’re scared, but you don’t have to be, I promise. Remember I helped you after Asmodeus hurt you? I just want to help you again. I want you to feel safe again.”

Jack waited, his breath stagnant as he watched you.

Nothing. Not a hint of movement in your eyes, not a twitch from the limp hand that was still resting in Jack’s. It was like you weren’t even in there.

“I don’t care how long it takes,” Jack said. “I’m gonna help you come back.”

…

“I’ve got him.”

It was Michael’s voice, but it didn’t sound like Michael anymore. Could it be…

“Sammy, I’ve got him. He’s secure, he’s not going anywhere.” Dean. It was Dean. “Y/N?” The sound of that voice calling your name stopped your breath, even though you were almost sure it was your big brother now.

“Hey, wait—“ you heard the scuffling of feet and the sound of Sam’s voice. “Dean, don’t. Michael—he took her. He hurt her. I don’t really know how, or what happened, but…but just go slow with her.”

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice was gentle as he slowly stepped closer to you. “Y/N, it’s Dean. Would you look at me, please?”

This finally got a reaction. You tilted your chin up and lifted your eyes to Dean, but you still didn’t move or speak.

“Hey.” A relieved smile broke out on Dean’s face—at least he knew you were listening now. “Hey kiddo. You doin ok?”

The longer you stared at Dean, the more shallow your breathing became. Dean was just reaching for you, hoping to calm you down, when you suddenly turned on your heel and made a dash for your room.

“Y/N!” Sam called after you. The slam of your door was his answer.

…

You wouldn’t answer the door for anyone, even Jack.

“I’m gonna go in there,” Dean decided.

“Dean, maybe she just needs space,” Sam suggested.

“She’s been in there all day without a word.” Dean shook his head. “I’ve gotta at least check on her.”

‘’Maybe I should try,” Jack suggested.

“I’m doing this alone.” Dean’s voice didn’t leave much room for argument, but Jack tried anyway.

“You still don’t trust me around her?” Jack asked.

“It’s not about that,” Dean huffed. “I’m the one who did this, so I’m the one who needs to fix it.”

“Dean, it wasn’t your—“ Cas’s protests stopped when Dean held up a hand.

“It doesn’t matter. She still sees him every time she looks at me. I need to fix this.”

Sam was the first to relent, and he managed to get Jack and Cas to leave with him to give you and Dean some space.

“Kiddo?” Dean knocked softly, knowing you wouldn’t answer. He was right. “Kiddo, if you don’t say anything I’m just gonna open the door. You ok in there?” After a prolonged silence, Dean went on. “Ok, I’m coming in.” He twisted the handle, glad it wasn’t locked, and slipped through the door.

You were sitting on the floor at the foot of your bed, your knees tucked up against your chest. Your whole body stiffened when Dean stepped into the room, but other than that there was no indication that you’d seen him enter; you didn’t look at him, you didn’t move.

“Hey,” Dean greeted. He sat next to you, and you didn’t react. “Would you look at me?”

Your eyes met Dean’s, and something scratched at the back of his mind.

“Are you just gonna do what I tell you to do?” Dean swallowed. “Is…is that what Michael made you do?” You stayed silent, so Dean prompted, “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Kid, you don’t have to do that. I’m not Michael, you know that right?”

“I…” your voice faltered. You took a deep breath. “I know. I’ll—I’m trying.”

“I never wanted him to hurt you,” Dean sighed. “I never meant for—“

“It’s not your fault, De,” you interrupted. “You’re not Michael, and…and nothing he said or did meant anything about you.”

“Ok, I got it.” Dean put his hand on your shoulder. “Now you gotta remember that, too, and stop being so freaked around me. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I told you, I’ll try…Dean?”

“Yeah kid?”

“Are you sure he can’t get out?”

When he saw you shaking, Dean reached out and pulled you into his arms.

“I’m sure. I’m never gonna let that guy hurt you again, ok? Never.”

You finally relaxed in your big brother’s arms.

“Ok.”

“Good. Now let’s go bother Sam and the angel gang.”

You laughed.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810

[hpgal]

DC X DP: VACATION TO A DIFFERENT UNIVERSE Pt. 1

CW: mentions of death

TLDR: Danny is stressed and depressed feeling like despite all the changes in his life, he feels like he is still the same.

Word Count: 1310

a/n: I plan on making multiple parts to this one but it will take some time. This is more a draft to part 1 than anything else and will most likely end up on AO3 in the future as a more completed version of itself once it is done here on Tumblr. Any feedback and suggestions (or even if you want to continue this plot with your own spin on it as long as I am credited/ tagged so I can read it too!) is very much welcomed!!

Danny wanted a change.

Not just for fun either. Though fun would be nice between all these Ghost King responsibilities he had been forced to start learning for when he comes of age, or well not, technically?

He doesn't know! It's complicated! He was 17 now, but his ghost age was only 3! The Observants said to fully assume the throne his ghost age was supposed to be 18 at the youngest but they'd make an exception for when he was 18 in the living realm.

Ghee, thanks you weirdos, because I totally wanted my adult life to already be over so I can manage my undead life.

Anyways, between trying to graduate and learn his forever job, he had been going to therapy now that he isn't the only ghost fighter in town. He has breaks! A support system! 14 year old Danny would never believe his parents accepted him for his ghostly side!!

His friends learned to fight and trap so well over the years that they don't even need him by their side anymore for every fight. The GIW was chased out of town and supposedly disbanded by the government because "it was a scam and ghosts don't actually exist." Even his parent's business was booming in town.

They started leaving the field work to others and focused on research. They hold ghost defense classes 3 times a week for any and all citizens. They build home defense gadgets and other anti ghost equipment to sell to the town, too. There are even kids from his class who want to get into the field now and intern at FentonWorks.

Over the years, everyone in town has grown incredibly capable of handling ghosts themselves that there is a city funded ghost protection task force. And that is all to deal with the ghosts that are more on the unruly side.

The reality is that it is not exactly necessary anymore to always be prepared for the next daily ghost attack. Since it became public knowledge for the Ghost Zone that he'd be assuming the throne, most ghosts have opted to leave Amity Park alone since it was his haunt. However, he has opened it up to any ghost who wants to visit as long as they do not leave Amity Park. And so, ghosts and the living live in harmony in the town.

In his senior year, the town has become so open to ghosts that when a ghost whose obsession is teaching, they hired him at Casper High! Danny is even in the class. He teaches an elective on astronomy, something the school could never afford. Ghosts didn't want to be paid in cash, so it helped! All Dr. Denver wants was to teach and to be allowed to claim the observatory for his research.

But while all this was great, Danny felt depressed. Which leads him back to why he was in therapy. It felt like all these amazing things have happened. That everyone has changed, except him. Thanks to his halfa status, his physical state isn't changing as much either. He discovered he is aging much, much slower.

Talking to his therapist, she helped him realize that what he craved was for a change for himself. Sure, he IS going to become The Infinite Realms king and that'll be a big change but it isn't what he wants.

He doesn't know what he wants, really. Which meant his therapist has given him an assignment to figure it out. So he talked to Clockwork, naturally hoping for some help. And Clockwork told him something surprising instead.

"Yeah, I'm ready for a change, but I don't know what to change." Danny told him in hopes the wording would draw Clockwork to give him an answer instead of something cryptic. He really didn't want to do the legwork to figure it out while he had midterms to study for and more ghost king lessons with The Observants later.

Clockwork paused as if in thought, "You could take a vacation to your universe of origin," he suggests. "That may help give clarity in what you need to change to be happy."

Danny floated next to him. He couldn't bring himself to be frustrated with the being of time for knowing exactly why Danny was here. Instead, he stared at him in confusion, distracted by what he just said, "What do you mean? I am not from here?"

He grins, his form flickering from old to young, "When you became a halfa, you changed universes from the complicated process you went through to become one."

Danny contemplated for a moment, confused but intrigued. A different universe? I wonder how different it would be from here. Without a second thought, Danny grins eager.

"I wanna go!" He exclaims like a young puppy who discovered a new toy for the first time.

"That would not be a problem, time runs differently between there and here. A week there will be an hour here so you won't need a time medallion." Clockwork simply looks off into the space surrounding them before continuing, "I have a friend who will act as your guardian while there. Head through the star shaped door near the Yetis whenever you are ready and he will be standing by, waiting for you" He shifts back into an older version of himself, pleased with himself for already knowing Danny would be taking this chance to go and made the preparations for this moment weeks ago.

Danny does a small dance in midair without a second thought and starts to drift off in that direction, "Oh, and Danny?" Clockwork calls out, "Legally, you are dead in that universe and.. well, much is different from what you know, so do be careful. Due to how time and the laws of that dimension for being such as myself, I am not the main ruler of time there, so the protection spells I placed on you are not guaranteed to save you this time." Clockwork grins knowingly towards Danny as Danny speeds off, oblivious to how serious his warning was.

---

Danny flies like the wind through the vastness of The Ghost Zone until he arrives at the door Clockwork described. His thoughts start to sour at the thought of this universe where he is considered dead despite it being his origin.

The door he arrives at is huge. Like he was not sure how to open the door huge. But wow, was it beautiful. It was like staring into space itself. It sparkled unlike any night sky he has even gazed upon. As he approached the beautiful door, he hesitated.

He was technically returning home, but he didn't feel any attachment to the universe in front of him. To him, nothing seemed different. Everything was exactly the same when he woke up after the accident, so he never noticed. The entire idea that he abandoned his family and friends by dying here was a horrible thought, but it wasn't his fault. He didn't know what happened here.

Wait, did that mean Vlad wasn't from that universe either? Danny shakes his head at the thought. It was pointless to fall down that particular rabbit hole now.

Maybe he should've asked Clockwork more before flying off without a thought. Clockworks words echoed inside him for fear of what he might find. Was this really a good idea? To return to the place he no longer existed? Could he handle seeing what the grief of his passing had done to those he loved?

A moment passes, and Danny shakes his head and steels himself. He needs to know how much changes, if he really did make an impact. Was he important?

With his decision made, the door seems to open itself. A bright beam of a soft white light floods through the threshold, and Danny steps through.

[biancadoes1]

I feel like some in the fandom might benefit from my shipping philosophy.

Are you feeling stressed out over any little bits we get from the mains or secondary characters that you can't neatly fit into your desired shipping outcome?

If so, I invite you to have a seat, so to speak, and read what I have to write.

Have you heard of schrodinger's cat? In layperson's terms: if something is unknown and cannot be analyzed, then all possibilities exist at the same time, until it is observed. Feel free to look it up if you want to go deeper, it's just a metaphor here though.

Stick with me, I know we already got weird.

The way I apply this to shipping is simply: we don't actually know anything in regard to the question of current romance between Nicola & Luke. That is the prime thing I always cling to.

Any picture, any quote, any rumor, any think piece (yup, including mine)... is not actually an observation of what we are shipping. It's just us knocking on the box that the answer (are N & L together or not?) is in.

And in this case, it's like we are mapping out the shape, size, color, weight, smell, even taste of the box. We are essentially kids trying to figure out our mystery gift under an xmas tree.

But... we will not know for certain unless Nicola & Luke open the box. Until that moment, everything is supposition and theory.

It does no one any good to be upset over unproven theories. Why make yourself ill over one photo that shows one second out of a whole year or more? Why are you letting someone else tell you what you "must accept" when it's still just a theory? Why let uncertain things affect you negatively?

If you allow yourself to accept that we don't actually know anything, that nothing we see is actual proof of what is in that box, then you will see that each new tidbit is just another way to figure out what the box is like.

That doesn't mean you have to say every single idea is equally likely though. You can still think some things are more likely than others. You can use logic and research to decide how likely or unlikely you feel something is. When you start to do this, and limit the direct influences of other people's opinions before formulating your own, you will feel less like a yoyo being yanked around.

It's a very even keeled experience, tbh. Join me?

This is advice some of you should really take.

[callahanisms]

apt.

unfortunately i don't really drink so i don't know any drinking games. so this fic is based on the song's ✨vibes✨

not beta read. first draft is my final draft mentality. uhhh based on promos and nothing else so if this becomes outdated next week i'm so sorry

pairing: ash x gender neutral! reader

word count: 2.1k words

accompanying bot: 🍻

You weren’t a heavy drinker. Not like you could be one anyways, considering you were deemed the designated sober friend for tonight. Not that you minded. You were more than cautious about drinking at a frat house. It was Essex’s only Asian frat and you had been invited by your friend Myung-Jun, or “MJ” as some of your friends call her. In all honesty, Essex had little diversity—an unshocking reality for 2021’s “Most Liberal College in America” which explains why Greek life was still mostly led by the historically white fraternities. The doors to the party were open to everyone because everyone at Essex liked to party.

Except your friends, for some reason.

You wanted to go with other people you know, outside of darling Myung-Jun. She was sweet and super into this guy at the frat and you didn’t want to end up third wheeling. But all your friends had other plans.

“There’s an event tonight at the antiracist research center. And as the events coordinator, I have to go. I organized it. I’ve been working on this for months!” is the excuse your friend Apinya gave you.

“I have homework.” was the excuse you got from three of your other friends.

“I have to stay at the lab to work on this report.” was Whitney’s reasoning.

“There’s an event at the KJ house tonight. Sorry.” Multiple of your friends were going to the KJ House tonight.

So essentially, it was just you and Myung-Jun and her friends, most of which you just met. And first meetings were always a little awkward, even at parties. You’re only nursing some Sprite in the red solo cup when Myung-Jun walks over, giggling. “(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” She says, her arm around the shoulders of a girl with shaggy dark hair, high cheekbones, and pouty lips wearing a denim jacket. “Oh my god! Are you having fun?”

“Yeah. I’m doing great.”

“You looked so lonely over here, so I thought I’d bring someone to keep you company!” She pats the girl’s shoulders. “(Y/N), this is Ash. She’s Talia’s friend.”

“Talia? Like…Talia Tran the philosophy major who already has an idea for what her capstone is going to be? That Talia Tran?” You ask.

“I mean…that’s one way to put it.” Your heart nearly stops hearing her voice. You can’t describe it exactly without letting someone else hear it. But her voice is warm, smooth and there’s a slight hint of a rasp. She clears her throat. Her cheeks are pink. “But yeah. Talia Tran. She’s cool.”

“You should’ve seen her! We taught her how to play APT. She can really hold her liquor!”

Ash shrugs. “I barely feel anything.”

“(Y/N) on the other hand, is a lightweight.”

“I-I’m not!” You feel your own face heat up with embarrassment. But it was true. A lightweight and depending on the day, you either got sleepy or really giggly. The first option didn’t exactly make drinking outside of your home or a friend’s place safe.

Myung-Jun looks between you two, smirking. “Ash is also single.”

Ash looks over at the slightly shorter girl. “Okay. Outing me as single already.”

Myung-Jun only giggles before walking away, leaving you alone with the attractive girl. She looks nice beneath the blue and purple lights of the fraternity house basement. “She does this a lot. When she’s drunk, she tries to matchmake. Unfortunately it actually seems to work.” You explain. It hasn’t worked so far, mostly because you didn’t want another situationship. Your last one ended pretty badly and left you laying in bed for the remainder of the year. It being winter probably didn’t help.

“How long have you two known each other?” Ash says, raising the volume of her voice so you can hear her over the loud music and people singing and dancing to it.

“Ring Ding Dong.”

Definitely fits the vibes.

Ash glances back, slowly moving towards you. The denim jacket is grazing your knuckles. She looks at you curiously with her eyes. “Since high school. She also ended up moving from the city to the suburbs like me. So we became friends in a school where everyone’s known each other since they were in diapers.” You also raise the volume of your voice as you talk to her.

“And you both went to Essex together? That’s cute.” Ash leans towards you, glancing down at your cup. “What’s your poison?”

“I prefer weed. A good edible. Not much of a drinker.” You take a sip. “It’s Sprite.”

“Honestly smart. I think I took too many shots of soju. I started hating the taste of yogurt.”

“That’s like the worst flavor!” You can’t stop the small laugh that leaves you and your lips from curling into a smile.

“It’s not. It’s very underrated. But honestly, I had enough for tonight.” She takes your cup and presses it to her lips.

If it was a man who did that, you would hate them immediately. But here was Ash, taking your cup and taking a sip of your Sprite. It was weirdly attractive, in a drunken sort of way. Of course, she might be a little tipsy, which would explain the lack of inhibition. Sober people usually don’t take other people’s drinks. “How do you know I didn’t mix it with anything?”

Ash looks at you up and down. “MJ told me you’re the designated sober friend for today.”

“That I am. But some people don’t like being sober friends.” You take the cup from her hand. You can’t help but admire how…relaxed she is. You’d probably be a bit of a mess if you weren’t sober. Some of these parties could be overwhelming. “Some sober friends end up more wasted than the people that brought them out.”

“Okay well…you’re not wrong. That’s happened on more than one occasion.” You finish up the Sprite and set the cup down on a flat surface. It wasn’t your house. They’d clean it up anyways.

“It smells too sweet down here.”

“That’s from all the people vaping inside.”

“Do you want to get some fresh air?”

Your heartbeat picks up a little bit. “Yeah. Sure.” You swallow your saliva, letting Ash take your hand and guide you through the dancing people, up the stairs, and out of the frat house.

Her hand was soft and the silver rings on her fingers were cool to the touch. You want to look at them more closely, feel the intricate designs and study them, ask her about how she got them, how long she’s been collecting jewelry. She was a silver girl it seems.

The air outside tastes better. It’s more crisp and you’re able to breathe without issue and needing to deeply inhale for some semblance of oxygen. But the air bites back against you through your thin clothes. Goosebumps form on your skin and you involuntarily shiver. It was supposed to be warm today. But you could never trust the weather app, could you?

“Now we can talk without yelling at each other.” She says, leaning against the wall of the house besides you.

“And breathe. Finally.” Your hand slides into the pocket of your pants and you could feel the joint inside of its tube. Pre-rolled of course. You didn’t have time to roll while working on your midterm papers. And you’re tempted to light it.

“So what are you studying?”

“Is that the question we’re starting off with?” You turn your head to look at her.

“It’s college. We all start with that question. What’s your name, what are your pronouns, where are you from, what are you majoring in.” Ash puts her hand out.

You roll your eyes. But you tell her anyway. Your name, your pronouns, where you’re from, what you’re majoring in at Essex. She doesn’t interrupt you, she just watches you with curious eyes. You fail to notice how her eyes glance down at your lips while you’re talking, too busy looking at other things because eye contact was uncomfortable. You soon end up going on a small tangent. About what, you don’t exactly remember because you mostly remember the biting chill of the wind.

“Sounds rough. I’m sorry your situationship was an asshole.”

You have to stop talking, looking at her. She’s looking at you with those big eyes of hers. Beneath the porch light, they look dark blue. Had you been talking about your situationship? “Yeah…I just…wish they were better.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. Your hands rub your upper arms, trying to get some friction going to warm yourself up.

Ash slowly slides her jacket off. “Here. Take it.”

“What? But aren’t you…” You look at what she’s wearing beneath the jacket. A baggy Depeche Mode shirt and a black compression shirt beneath. “Wouldn’t you also be cold?”

“I’m used to it.” She shrugs. “Come on. Take the jacket. Don’t be stubborn.”

The jacket does look cozy. So you take it, your fingers brushing against her own, and you place the jacket on your shoulders. “It’s a shame. If I was your situationship, I wouldn’t leave you for another average white guy.” She takes a step closer and you can feel her body heat.

“Really?” You raise your eyebrows. “I don’t know. People love average white guys. That’s the whole point of the white boy of the month trend!”

Ash clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “People are…shortsighted, I guess we’ll say.” Her hand cups your face. You blink. Shivers run down your spine. “They don’t realize they have someone awesome in front of them.”

“And…are you…” You lean closer. “Are you saying…you’re not shortsighted?”

“I’m just saying…I appreciate people as they are.”

Your brain can’t process the sudden physical sensation of warmth against your lips. Ash’s lips on yours, her hand holding your face in place so she can set a sensual rhythm. Your stomach churns, your heart feels like it’s going to burst from your rib cage. When you breathe in, you can smell the scent of bergamot and sweet oranges lingering on her clothes. It’s a little overwhelming actually.

The kiss itself is overwhelming.

You pull away, breathing heavy, face hot. You might collapse. Ash looks at you, your lips parted, and there’s a flash of disappointment in her face. “Shit. I’m sorry.” She says immediately, pulling back. You already miss her body heat. “I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“No! No!” You grab her other wrist and pull her back towards you. “I…Sorry. I just…I haven’t kissed someone in a while.” You swallow. “A-And…” Ash looks at you expectantly, but there’s a sad expectation reflecting in her eyes. It’s as if she’s expecting you to reject her.

Who would reject her?

“You’re the first person in a while. And I…I liked it.”

Those sad expectations leave her eyes, replaced with a sparkle that mixed hope and suggestion. “So…do you want ano—”

You kiss her again before she can finish her question. You add more pressure to the kiss and some more passion. Ash melts beneath your touch, pulling you closer with one hand resting on the side of your neck and the other resting at your hip. She enjoys that you taste of Sprite. Her teeth gently bite down on your bottom lip and pull, causing you to gasp. Your back stiffens from the shiver that runs up along it, your hands beginning to slide along Ash’s sides. Your other hand goes to the back of her neck, gently wrapping some of her hair around your finger.

Ash finally pulls away, her breathing heavy, her chest moving up and down. “Do you…want to get out of here?” She asks.

“I…” You think back to your friends. “I shouldn’t—”

“You absolutely should!”

Both you and Ash nearly jump. You both look, seeing Myung-Jun taking a hit from her vape and blowing. “MJ! H-How long have you been out here!” Your voice cracks as you speak, only furthering the embarrassment of getting caught making out with a girl you just met.

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt.” The Korean girl giggles. “Go have fun (Y/N). Just text me when you get back to our dorm. If you get back.” She raises her eyebrows suggestively.

“I’m…W-What about you? And being your sober friend?”

“(Y/N), I’m smarter than that. We have multiple sober friends. Besides, Kimberly and Bela are here. They can take care of me.”

You furrow your brows, thinking. “Since when…” You shake your head. “Okay. Fine. Text me updates okay?”

“Okay~” Myung-Jun winks at you, taking another hit from her vape and then sauntering back into the frat house.

You lean your head against the wall of the house, groaning a little bit. Ash can’t help but let out a small laugh. “Don’t look so embarrassed.” She says.

“I’m not embarrassed.” You look down at her.

“I think your face says differently.” Ash grabs your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours. And you let her pull you off the wall and take you back to her dorm.

You ended up submitting your paper late. Thank god for having a chill professor.

[27spoons]

CRUSH | ACT ONE: CIGARETTE DAYDREAMS

pairing: natalie scatorccio/reader

summary:

A handful of chance encounters with the elusive Natalie Scatorccio lead to an unlikely outing with the aforementioned, which leads you to an unexpected and unconventional place, far removed from your usual quiet routines. In the quiet of their surroundings, the two find themselves opening up, sharing glimpses of their lives and discovering unexpected common ground. You're drawn into Natalie's world as the day unfolds, leaving you questioning your choices and craving more of the freedom and thrill she embodies.

wc: 5700

warnings: they smoke weed, reader is a bumbling idiot

a/n: the amount of research i did into the american school system is truly astounding. yall are so weird (lovingly). what the fuck is a homecoming and why are you guys so obsessed with it (/j) (mostly)

ao3

PREVIOUS - PRELUDE: CRUSH

NEXT - ACT ONE: HOW CAN I MAKE IT OK? (WIP)

The first time you really noticed Natalie Scatorccio, she was leaning against the bleachers behind the gym with a cigarette dangling from her lips, head tipped back like she didn't give a fuck if the sun blinded her. Even in the heat of late spring, still wearing that black, faded leather jacket. You wonder if she was born with it.

You didn't mean to stare. You never do.

But Natalie… well, Natalie always had a way of drawing your attention, like a moth to a flame. The rest of the world seemed to fade into static whenever she came into your line of view. 

Looking back, you wonder why the hell she even came to school that day. Half the time, she was just a rumour passed from one hallway to another, a near-mythical figure that drifted in and out of classes on her own terms. Maybe her being on the soccer team played a role in her occasionally attending classes. As good of a player as she was, they couldn't have someone on the team who ditched all of their classes. Only some. And maybe she had a bit of, well, a lot of a record. You don't know how much of it is true, but you do know she's spent more than a few nights in juvie. 

Anyway, she didn't notice you. She never did.

Why would she notice someone like you, anyway? With her sharp edges and reckless impetuousness? You barely spoke in class unless called on, minded your own, and were content fading into the background of any picture. Your life was routine and predictable—a series of perfectly lined notebooks and polite smiles.

But, with all that in mind, it never stopped your heart from catching in your throat every time her eyes flicked lazily across the quad, scanning the crowd like she was already bored of it. It never stopped the rush of heat to your cheeks when someone shouted her name, and she smirked, tossing her cigarette to the pavement and crushing it with her boot. 

You told yourself to stop looking.

You didn't.

Instead, you let your gaze linger, wondering what it felt like to be the kind of person who could light up a cigarette in the middle of the day and make it look like art. Wondering what it felt like to be noticed by Natalie Scatorccio.

Wondering if you ever would.

You never planned to talk to her. Not really. It was always just passing thoughts of what it would be like to interact with her. Would she be exactly like all the rumours? A cold, uncaring burnout that doesn't give a fuck about anyone but herself? Or would she be kinder? Someone who cares about people and has a secret soft spot?

The thoughts that ran through your mind every time you looked at her. Some more explicit than others. Whoops. 

Maybe even when you weren't looking at her. Like now, for example. So lost in your own world, leaning against the school's exterior wall during your free period, you don't even notice someone approaching you until their voice pushes you out of your thoughts. 

"Got a light?" The raspy, feminine voice asked, sounding like the person it came from had already smoked half a pack today.

Your head flicks over to the voice and… Natalie Scatorccio. In the flesh. How long had you been imagining your first interaction? Since that spring sophomore year? What was that, over a year ago, now?

You blink, startled. "Uh, I, uh—I don’t smoke.” 

The girl scoffs, "No shit. I didn't ask if you smoked. I asked if you had a light."

You must look like a deer in the headlights right now, mouth opening and closing uselessly like a fish out of water. "Uh." You sling your backpack off your back and unzip it. Truthfully, you already know you don't have a lighter in here. You're only looking because it's an excuse to keep her around a little longer. 

"Sorry," you murmur after a minute spent rifling through your bag and Nat shifting restlessly beside you. "Don't have, uh, a lighter on me."

She appraises you for a moment, "Then what are you doing here, Princess?" She gestures vaguely to the surrounding area. "This your idea of a field trip? Comin' to the corner where the burnouts hang out?"

…is this the corner where her and her friends hang out? No, right? You've never seen them back here before. Mind you, it's not like you're watching her every move, but you feel like you've seen her around enough to know that this isn't her usual haunt. 

"No, uh, I, uh, just wanted some air." The words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them. 

Natalie laughs, low and quiet, "Sure, sure." She tucks her cigarette behind her right ear and crosses her arms, looking over you again with that same look that you could never entirely read. "Well, enjoy it while it lasts. You won't get air like this where you're going."

"Where I'm going?"

She hums, shrugging and pushing off the brick wall the two of you were leaning against. "Wherever people like you go when they get bored of people like me."

You don't even get the time to consider that or form a response before she's walking off with that signature swagger. 

So, you stand there, staring after her, heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

You'll start carrying a lighter with you, you decide. 

The next time you interact with Natalie Scatorccio is the week before homecoming, and it's in a setting that is far from glamorous. 

You're in—well, just outside—the school's storage closet, begrudgingly helping a teacher gather decorations for the upcoming celebration. She'd roped you in during your lunch period with a sickeningly sweet smile and a nudge about "school spirit," and, of course, you've always had a hard time saying no. Now, you're stuck digging through boxes upon boxes of tangled string lights, crumpled paper banners, and decorations that are probably older than you are. The icing on the cake is the fact that the entire room smells like mothballs and mildew. 

So, there you are, crouched down and trying to untangle a particularly stubborn knot that connects a pair of string lights when a vaguely familiar voice startles you.

"Didn't peg you for the "volunteer of the year" type."

You glance in the direction of the voice to see Natalie leaning against the closet doorframe, arms crossed and smirking down at you. She's got a blue Gatorade bottle in one hand, the other tucked into the pocket of her leather jacket.

You blink, genuinely surprised to see her in this part of the school, voluntarily. "Uh… what're you doing here?" You stammer out, hands still buried in the mess of tangled lights.

Natalie cocks an eyebrow at you, "Came to see if this place had any tape. Coach is too cheap to buy any decent stuff for the team." She waves a roll of duct tape in her hand, as if to prove her point, then glances down at the many boxes you're sifting through. "You doing this for shits and giggles or some sort of punishment?"

"Uh… neither?" You shift in your position awkwardly, "Ms. Garza needed help, and I—"

She scoffs and interrupts you, "You're too nice." she crouches down beside you with an exaggerated groan, like the act of sitting is the hardest thing in the world. "Lemme guess. Something about school pride, how much she would appreciate it, and a pat on the back?"

"...yeah…" you murmur, face flushing.

An indignant snort leaves her as she digs her hands into the string of lights you currently have yours in, "Called it." To your great surprise, she starts untangling the knotted lights with a deftness you weren't quite expecting.

Mind you, you weren't really expecting any of this.

"Oh, uh, you really don't have to—"

"Nah. 'm bored." She shrugs, not bothering to look up at you. "Wanted an excuse to ditch practice, anyways."

"Oh." You aren't quite sure how to respond to that, so you settle for just watching her work.

The silence stretches as she untangles the lights on your behalf, slightly uncomfortable and tense but not awkward, for some reason. Eventually, you find the courage to ask, "You're, uh, on the soccer team, right?"

Natalie pauses for a moment, then shrugs and gets back to work. "Yep," and for a moment, you think that's all she's gonna say until she adds: "Not exactly my dream job, but it mostly keeps me out of trouble." She smirks and finally glances at you, "Mostly."

"Well… that's good, I guess?" You offer, watching as she successfully untangles one of the strings from the giant mess.

She laughs—short, sharp, and genuine—and it honestly catches you off-guard for a moment.  "Sure, Princess. Good. That's one word for it."

You let that silence slowly become awkward before you mumble out, "You're not what I expected." You don't even intend it to come out of your mouth, but it does before you can stop it.

Natalie freezes, her expression shifting to something unreadable. "And what exactly did you expect, huh?" Her tone, while mostly neutral, carries a slight bite to it.

That makes you hesitate.

Good job, dumbass.

"Oh, uh, it's just that… people say a lot of stuff about you. I dunno." Your face flushes again, and you feel like a bit of an ass for saying something, but surely she knows the rumours that circulate her.

"Yeah, well, people say a lot of shit about anything they don't understand." She nearly snaps, her jaw tensing before she finally looks at you, her gaze making you feel far more insignificant than you've ever felt before. "Guess it doesn't really matter what they say, huh? People like you don't bother to find out for themselves."

"People…" You swallow down that sudden lump in your throat, "People like me?"

"Yeah. You know," she gestures vaguely at you with her free hand as if that explains everything. "The good kids. The nerds. The ones that stick to the rules and do what they're told. Whatever."

You open your mouth to dispute that claim, that you really don't "stick to the rules" and "do what you're told," but even if you could without lying, she wouldn't believe you. "Yeah." You manage, unable to find anything else to say.

After that, the two of you finish untangling the lights in relative silence, and as bad as you feel about what you said (and assumed), you feel like there's some sort of understanding you've gained about the woman a majority of the school avoids, like the plague.

As Natalie stands to leave, duct tape in one hand and a satisfied grin on her face, she pauses and spares a glance back at you, "Hey," a beat, "Try saying no next time. Might make life more… interesting."

Then… she's gone. Leaving you alone with the faint smell of cigarette smoke and the realization you're probably blushing.

You start frequenting that spot in the back of the school during your spare period and hoping that maybe, maybe, she'll grace you with her presence again. 

Lucky for you, she does—two weeks later.

It's early October in your senior year; homecoming has come and gone, and the air has started to develop a slight chill. You're sitting against that same wall with a sketchbook in hand and earbuds in, listening to whatever is playing off your phone. You really need to work on your situational awareness because you don't even notice Natalie approaching until her figure is looming over you. You quickly pull an earbud out as you look up at her. "Uh—" "What're you working on, Princess?" Despite the teasing lilt in her voice, she seems… genuinely curious. "Oh, uh, just…" You turn the sketchbook around and offer it to her, figuring it's easier to show than try to explain. "Yeah, I'm drawing a very specific type of bird, the barn swallow, which I saw when I went up to my grandfather's farm over the weekend." True, you could just say, "It's a barn swallow," but that's no fun.

Natalie cocks an eyebrow, surprised that you're just handing her your drawing when most people wouldn't let her touch their belongings with a ten-foot pole, but she doesn't comment on it. She nods as she looks down at the sketch, "'s a nice looking bird. You got talent, Princess." She hands the book back to you, "Your field trip take you out here again?"

You flush slightly at the compliment, murmuring out a quiet "Thanks" before you look back up at her, "Oh, uh, I just… it's quiet back here. Most people don't come around this part of the school, so I can draw in peace. It's nice." You offer her a soft smile, which she returns. "Yeah, it is, isn't it?" The girl looks around the area, yawning. "Always nice to find spots where the rest of the school don't stick their noses." She glances back down at you, "Shouldn't you be in class? Don't seem like the type to skip." You shake your head, "I have a spare right now. And I'd rather be out there than in the library or something. At least out here, I can breathe." You chuckle quietly to yourself.

She huffs at the comment and pulls a pack of cigarettes from her jacket pocket, "This is true." She places one between her lips, and you almost hope she asks you if you have a lighter again, just so you can show her that you do, but she doesn't, instead opting to pull out a rusted Zippo from one of her combat boots. She takes a few puffs from the smoke before flicking the lighter closed and returning it to her boot. 

"Sorry. Would've asked if you wanted to bum one, but you said you didn't smoke last time." Last time. Meaning she remembers the interaction the two of you had weeks ago. That brief, fleeting interaction. It shouldn't make you feel as warm as it does. "What's your last class of the day?" And now she's asking you questions. About yourself. That's crazy. That's wild. 

"Oh, uh, AP Chemistry with Mr. Carr."

Natalie snorts as she brings the Marlboro back to her lips, "Figures you'd be in AP Chem." You frown slightly at that, but she quickly adds: "Not that that's a bad thing or whatever. You just… seem like the overachieving type. No offense." She shrugs as she takes a long pull from the smoke.

"Yeah, well, parents want me getting into a good university, preferably with a scholarship, so that I won't have to go into crippling debt just to study." You give another (slightly tense) chuckle.

She grunts in response, "I get that." You were half expecting her to make another jab about getting into a good school or getting a scholarship, but find yourself pleasantly surprised when she doesn't. "Hey," She says, looking back down at you, "When's the last time you skipped a class?" Skipped a class? You don't think you've ever—well, that's a lie. You did a few times back in middle school when you thought it was cool. And it was—until you ended up missing a test. "Middle school, I think." You mumble, thinking about the question. "Probably eighth grade. Why?"

A devilish grin crosses her features, "Well, Princess, I think your nerdy ass is long overdue for a skip. Last block of the day, anyway. What've you got to lose?" You consider that. She's right. It is the last class of the day. And you know that Mr. Carr is just reviewing stuff for Monday's test. 

You know you shouldn't. Really, you shouldn't. It's a bad idea. One headed for disaster. You don't know her, and she just keeps calling you "Princess," and for all that is holy, this will be a terrible idea.

"Uh, I don't know." You, once again, give her a tense chuckle. "The school will call my parents if I'm not in class." Natalie rolls her eyes and scoffs, ashing her cigarette. "Please. Just text them and tell them you've got a stomach ache or something and needed to go home early. I doubt they'll piss themselves over it. After all, it's like you said, you haven't skipped since middle school. Live a little." Live a little. She's right, again. How many times are you gonna let opportunities pass you by because you were too much of a pussy to do anything? For all that is holy, you might regret this.

"...if you end up sacrificing me to some blood God, I will be very upset." But you start packing your stuff up all the same. Natalie laughs—truly laughs. Warm and open. You decide you like that sound. "Not a blood God fan? Alright. I'll sacrifice you to the sex Gods, then." She grins as she takes another pull from the smoke, "C'mon. I know a place." She gestures with her head for you to follow. She doesn't even stop to make sure you're following her; she just assumes you are.

You scramble up off the ground and quickly move to fall into step with her as she leads you away from the school. 

She moves fast, walking down the sidewalk and stepping over cracks and rocks as if she's taken this route countless times, and maybe she has. Not once does she spare a glance back at you to see if you're following, her eyes set on the path in front of her—as if nothing could break her single-minded focus of leading the two of you to… wherever you're going. 

The two of you walk in silence for what feels like forever but is actually only a few minutes. Despite being slightly taller than the blonde, you find yourself taking slightly hurried steps in order to keep up with her. Natalie doesn't seem interested in telling you where she's leading you, and you don't dare ask—not yet, anyway. You clutch your bag tightly, feeling both exhilarated and slightly nauseous.

“Relax, Princess,” she says finally, her voice cutting through the quiet. She glances over at you with a smirk, flicking ash from her cigarette onto the pavement. “I’m not dragging you into anything illegal.” She grins and looks back ahead, "And I'm not actually sacrificing you to the Sex Gods—unless you're into that." She lets out a low chuckle, and you find yourself blushing again like a fool.

You're grateful she's looking away from you again, although you're almost positive she knows your face is bright red. "I, uh, I wasn't thinking that." You mumble out, nearly tripping over your own feet.

"Sure you weren't." She hums, "Don't worry. For the record, this place is cool. No cops, no teachers, no assholes tryin' t'stick their nose where it doesn't belong. Just us."

You should feel reassured, but her words only make your pulse quicken. Us. Like you’re part of her world now, even if just for a little while.

She leads you down a side street, and the area she turns down honestly looks like the type of place where someone would be murdered brutally, and their body would be discovered two months later when someone walking their dog accidentally stumbles across it. Sunlight filters through the overgrown trees on one side of the street, the tangled branches casting eerily beautiful shadows on the gravel road. 

Natalie comes to a stop at the end of the road, pushing open a rusted gate that groans in protest at the movement. On the other side of the gate lies a small, run-down skatepark, the kind that's been long forgotten by time and maintenance crews. Graffiti covers every available surface, some of it less vulgar than others. 

She flicks her cigarette butt to the pavement and crushes it under the toe of her boot, "Welcome to paradise," she says, throwing her arms out wide as if displaying the park to you like it was her prized possession. 

"This is… your big, secret spot?" You cock an eyebrow and glance around, walking to the edge of the skate bowl and glancing down at the artwork that covers it.

Natalie laughs, leaning against the nearest ramp. “Hey, this baby is my pride and joy. Beats sitting in AP Chem, doesn’t it?”

You can’t argue with that.

You can try to, however. "'least I'd be learning something in AP Chem."

She laughs at that, "Oh, yeah?" Well, I can sure as hell teach you a few things, Princess." She pushes off from the ramp and saunters over to you, and you swear to God your face might actually look like a tomato. "I, uh, I—"

She laughs, "Relax, Princess." She drops down to sit on the edge of the bowl, taking her backpack off and pulling out a tin of Altoids. 

"...Mints?" You ask, confused, your face slowly returning to its normal colour as you sit beside her, albeit with slight trepidation. 

The girl snorts as she opens the tin, revealing a handful of carefully rolled joints. "No, Princess. I just got tired of carrying around plastic bags of joints that would end up crushed by the end of the day. This keeps them intact and fresh." She pulls one out and places the end of one between her lips, offering you the tin.

You look down at it like you're seeing a ghost. "Uh—"

She rolls her eyes, but the grin on her lips remains, "'s not gonna bite you. Just a joint." She closes the tin and lights the one between her lips, taking a few puffs to ensure it stays lit. "You really never smoked before, yeah? Complete virgin?" Oh, if only she knew how true that statement was. "Yeah, uh, virgin lungs. Only ever inhaled oxygen." You give a tense laugh, rubbing the back of your neck and looking away bashfully. 

"Well," Natalie hums, holding the joint out for you, "First time for everything, yeah?" 

You stare at the joint like it's possessed. "I don't, uh, really know how to." Nat shakes her head and laughs, "Dude, seriously, you need to relax a little. Just, like…" She sighs and rolls her eyes, waving her free hand around as she tries to explain how to take a hit. "Like… you're drinking from a straw, or whatever, but you're trynin' t'fill your lungs, not your stomach." You reach out to grab it, but she pulls it back for a moment before letting you have it, "And, whatever you do, do not fucking slobber all over my joint, or this—" she gestures between the two of you, "—will never happen again. Yeah?"

"Yeah." You murmur, suddenly far more nervous than you already had been, if that was even possible. You swallow nervously to clear the saliva from your mouth and place the end of the joint between your lips and do as she instructed, inhaling like you would if you were sucking something through a straw. You only manage to get about a second and a half into taking the pull before you're pulling the smoke from your mouth and coughing up a lung.

Natalie, of course, starts laughing her ass off. "Dude—" She tries to stop laughing, but the more you cough, the more she laughs. Admittedly, even though you're suffering, you do quite enjoy hearing her laugh. "Dude, seriously. Breathe." She grabs the joint back from you before you drop it.

"Yeah, well, easy for—" You cough a few more times, "—easy for you to say." You wave the lingering smoke away from your face, "You're not the one who just took your first hit."

She scoffs, a cocky grin plastered on her face. "Yeah, but I didn't cough my fucking lungs out the first time I took a hit." Natalie brings the joint to her lips and takes another pull before ashing it, "Try again." She offers the smoke to you again, "And this time, try not to cough like that, yeah?" Her tone is teasing, and her eyes sparkle with mischief. 

Damn. You're already whipped, aren't you?

You let out another shaky exhale as you place the joint between your lips again and inhale, although not as aggressively this time. You manage to actually take a few second long pull, although you do cough a few times on the exhale. "Fuck." 

You pass the joint back to her as you make a face, and Natalie just laughs again. "See, Princess? You can take a proper hit. I'll make a stoner of you yet." She grins to herself as she takes another long pull.

Silence, comfortable silence, passes between the two of you as you share the joint (and yes, you do still cough after every hit. But you swear you're getting better!) until it's depleted. Natalie sighs as she snuffs the roach of the joint out on the concrete, "I don't like silence. Talk." She says bluntly, drawing one of her legs up to her chest as the other remains draped over the edge of the bowl.

"Uh." You stammer, shaking your head. "Alright. Uh… do you skate? Or something? I'm assuming this isn't really a place you just… stumble upon." You vaguely gesture to the surrounding skatepark. 

The bleach blonde shakes her head, "Nah. I don't skate. Kev does. 's become our hangout spot. No one comes 'round here unless they're tryin' t'smoke or skate. And the people that do come around to do that are usually chill." She glances at you, "So don't make me regret showing you this place, yeah? If I come back one day and see all the graffiti gone and the place cleaned up, I'm comin' for you, Princess."

Princess. That stupid fucking nickname. She hasn't even asked your name, but she's been more than fine sharing a joint with you and showing you her 'secret spot' that she seems to value so much. 

Yet, as much as you dislike the nickname, you also like how it spills from her lips. Maybe it's just because it's her saying it. 

"Promise I won't leak your "special spot" to the locals." You shoot her a smile, and she smiles back at you. 

"Good." A beat, "How's it feel to hang out with someone like me, huh? Bet your goody-two-shoes ass would have never dreamt about smoking a joint in an abandoned skatepark with someone who has a rap sheet, huh?"

Well… maybe you have dreamt about it. But Natalie doesn't need to know that. "Didn't think it would ever happen, no." You nod, looking back over the spray-painted pavement. "I, uh, like the… fuzzy feeling from the weed, though."

"Fuzzy feeling." Natalie parrots, shaking her head, "You're high, Princess. That's what that fuzzy feeling is. You're high. Didn't even smoke that much. I forget how much of a lightweight newbloods are." 

"Yeah, well, not all of us smoke our first joint at ten and do our first stint in juvie by twelve." You roll your eyes, and the teasing edge in your voice surprises even you. Maybe it's the weed talking—or perhaps it's Natalie, the way she makes you feel a little bolder than you would typically be. 

To your surprise, Natalie seems to take the comment in stride. "I'll have you know I didn't do my first stint until I was fourteen, thank you." She grins, leaning back on her hands. "What's the most rebellious thing you've ever done, Princess? And, no, skipping class with me and smoking a joint doesn't count."

You have to think about that for a moment. 

Like… a long moment. You really don't do anything that would be considered rebellious. "Uhhh… skipped a few times in middle school. Snuck out a handful of times after curfew to watch the meteor showers…" You're quickly realising how lame you sound. "I, uh, once I stole some vodka from my parent's liquor cabinet? But… nothing major, obviously."

Natalie lets out a low whistle, "Damn, you're a natural rebel, yeah? Sneaking out to watch meteor showers… stealing vodka from your parents once…" She shakes her head in mock disbelief. "You're adorable." A wistful sigh leaves her lips.

"Yeah…" You give a strained chuckle and rub the back of your neck, feeling far more bashful than you had been all afternoon. "What, uh, about you?" You ask, partially to deflect from the conversation about you and partially because you're actually curious. You've heard so much about her, so many stories and rumours… how many of them are actually true? "What's the worst thing you've ever done?"

She shrugs, like she’s been asked this a hundred times before, and she probably has. "The usual. Got into some fights, boosted a car once—don’t recommend it, by the way—and maybe climbed a water tower drunk off my ass just to prove a point." She grins, clearly proud of herself. "Oh, and there was that time I broke into a swimming pool after hours. Almost got caught, but it was worth it."

That is… surprisingly far less than you thought it would be. Your kneejerk reaction is to ask, "Is that all?" but you know better. "What type of car?" You ask, which is a far safer question.

Natalie laughs, "That's what you're pulling from that?" She shakes her head, "Sure. Was a Mazda MX-5. Soft top. First gen. Did it on a dare. Belonged to some rich asshole that lived outside of Philly. Took way too fucking long to boost, and I was sweating balls the whole time. Never again."

"Damn." You murmur, "What did you do with the car once you got it started?" You ask, far too curious for your own good.

"Mm, that's a secret, Princess. Curiosity kills cats, or whatever the fuck the expression is." She smirks lazily, waving a hand dismissively. "Y'know, life is short as fuck. Shorter if you're someone like me." She takes a moment to light up a cigarette, "You ever think about that? Like… if all you do is follow the rules, what’s the point?"

You're not sure if it's the weed talking, but… her words hit heavier than you thought they would. "I guess I’ve never really thought about it like that," you admit, voice softer than intended. "I mean… I’ve always just done what I was supposed to, what everyone expected of me. Status quo, and all that." You shrug, but there's a lack of conviction behind it.

Natalie blows a few smoke rings before turning her gaze back to you, "Yeah? How's that working for you? Living the life of your dreams?"

You sigh and look away from her, then groan and lie down against the edge of the bowl, legs still dangling off of it. "I mean… I guess it's working out fine." You shake your head, not even convinced of your own words, "Sometimes, though? Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to… just…" You throw your hands up in frustration as you try and find the right words, "Just do whatever the hell I want. Like you, I guess."

She scoffs, but it isn't harsh like her previous ones have been; it's almost bordering on wistful. "Careful, Princess. That's the type of thinking that gets you into trouble." She puffs on her smoke several times, "The good type of trouble, don't get me wrong. The kind of trouble that makes life actually worth living.

You don’t know what to say to that, so you just sit there, the quiet settling in again. But this time, it feels different—less like silence and more like… a mutual understanding.

The two of you sit out in quiet understanding for a little while until Natalie's cell vibrates. She fishes it out of her jacket pocket with a sigh and glances down at the cracked screen of her… you're pretty sure that's a Samsung S8, which is more than a few generations old at this point, but it's honestly not that surprising that she has an old, beat up phone.

"I gotta jet, Princess." She pushes herself into a standing position and swings her backpack over her shoulder, but before she leaves, she looks down at you, still sitting on the edge of the bowl. "But, for the record?" A grin twitches its way onto her face, "You're not half bad. Guess not every nerd is an uptight bitch, huh?" Then, she's off. Leaving you sitting on the edge of the skate bowl, reflecting on the past… however long you spent out here with her.

The silence left in her wake feels heavier than you'd expect—as if she took all the noise and chaos with her as she left. You sit there a while longer, brooding in the stillness. Your eyes drift to the snuffed-out roach of the joint the two of you shared, and you find a smile crossing your features as the words she left with replay in your mind.

"You're not half bad."

It's probably nothing to her, just another throwaway moment in the whirlwind that is her life, but to you? Well, to you, it feels like a seed of something has been sowed. Approval? A connection? Whatever it is, you let it linger.

Eventually, you rise, brushing off the nonexistent dust and dirt from your pants. The world feels different now—softer, maybe. Or maybe that’s just the buzz still coursing through your body. You know you should head home, but instead, you pull out your phone and snap a quick picture of the empty skatepark, the graffiti-lined concrete glowing faintly in the golden light of the setting sun.

Maybe you’ll sketch it later. Perhaps you’ll save it as a reminder of this strange, unexpected, but welcome afternoon.

As you begin your walk home, you let your thoughts wander to Natalie—her casual confidence, her warm laugh, and how she made you feel that leaving your comfort zone, that safe little bubble you had built, was not only possible—but necessary. 

You don't know if you'll see her again tomorrow, or the next day, or anytime soon, really. 

But you sure as hell hope you do.

a/n: yall not gonna be getting anything even remotely romantic for a hot minute whoops (gotta build that tension yfm)

questions/comments/whatever? slide in my asks and ill maybe respond idk teehee

[mitskicodedwukong]

✨ REDSON, SIX-EARED MACAQUE, & SUN WUKONG WITH AN ADHD S/O ✨

» three-thirty (AJR) « 0:45 ─〇───── 4:07

╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝🍑╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗ AUTHOR'S NOTE ╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗🍑╔⏤⏤⏤╝ ➤ This is reposted from my old account, @nothyenlowz :3 ➤ These are headcanons. ➤ This is romantic. ➤ Reader is afab & uses she/her! ➤ I don't think I went as in depth as I could have been I still hope it's accurate and you enjoy it! ➤ TRIGGER WARNINGS include profanity, a little bit of angst, and minor violence. ➤ Word count: 1,361

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

❝ You wanna skip it if it's wordy, but fit the whole song in three-thirty .❞

╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝╚⏤⏤��⏤╗ REDSON 🔥 ╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝

➤ before he finds out you have ADHD, i imagine he's confused by your behavior at best and frustrated by it at worst.

➤ your daydreaming and procrastination can be annoying for him, someone who's always about work, work, work. when you're talking to him about your fixations, he gets irritated because either he 1.) has no idea what you're talking about or 2.) thinks you're making fun of him since he often rambles about his inventions in a similar manner.

➤ he just doesn't understand why you're doing those things and neither do you. it causes a lot of struggles for you both initially, leading to shit communication and hurt feelings.

➤ when you're finally diagnosed, redson listens very closely. now your quirks are starting to make sense, but you still don't have as much information as he'd like. he researches ADHD in AFAB people rather meticulously on his own time (sometimes interrupted by his own anger at the lacking information for females), and by the end of it, he has a much improved understanding.

➤ and boy does he feel shitty. hindsight is 20/20 or something.

➤ the idea that he blew up at you for things out of your control makes him feel ashamed, especially when some of those things (like info-dumping) are signs of affection. so you don't see him for a while, partially due to some unhealthy self-punishment on his end, and also because he's trying to come up with a solution—that being a way to make it up to you, of course, not "fix" you.

➤ when redson stops avoiding you, he takes you out on a date with all your favorite activities and thoroughly apologizes to you. he promises to adjust his behavior to accommodate and support you.

➤ (which might have made you cry, considering you've always been treated like you're the problem.)

➤ true to his word, redson changes a lot. he leaves little notes for you as reminders, sets alarms for you, helps you finish or do tasks you don't have the energy for, etc. he even starts prompting info-dumping, reading up on the source material so he can ask questions.

➤ he also does his very best to educate himself on masking and burnout so he can a.) keep you from going there or b.) recognize the signs when you are there and help you. i like to imagine he made a sensory room for you that has all your favorite things and you can just go there to chill and unwind.

➤ he's also super protective over you. if people make fun of your stims, say you talk a lot, undermine your sensory issues, etc., he will DESTROY them. no way in hell is he letting you be disrespected like that. verbal smackdown, here we come.

➤ ultimately, it's a learning process. but it's one he's more than willing to thoroughly explore for you.

╔⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤╝╚⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤╗ SIX-EARED MACAQUE 🔮 ╚⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤╗╔⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤╝

➤ HONESTLY i headcanon macaque as autistic, so i feel like he had a feeling that you were ADHD before you did.

➤ probably made jokes like "it's the ADHD lol" for certain behaviors until you decided to do some research on it and were like "🧍‍♂️ yeah so—"

➤ not surprised at all when you're diagnosed, obviously. he uses the opportunity to show you coping mechanisms he's learned (though some have to be tweaked for your needs since autism isn't ADHD), and even begins to unmask more around you (which was inevitable anyway tbh, but it's easier now that he doesn't feel so different from you).

➤ since macaque thrives under routine/structure, he often handles reminders. he also keeps you on track, verbally and physically, if you have things to do. ALSO is super on you about eating, since he likes cooking.

➤ macaque's experienced dozens of burnouts in his long life, so he knows how awful they are. he can sniff out a burnout a mile away so i'd like to think that you don't experience many while with him because he's really good at pacing the both of you/being aware of your emotional and mental state. the dojo's pretty chill like 90% of the time due to his own sensory issues so it's a good place to unwind and relax.

➤ you guys have picked up so many phrases from each other. he'll be working on a script for a shadow play while you're cleaning and he'll just hear you laugh and go, "wow, didn't see that one comin'." it definitely flusters him that he's included in your echolalia.

➤ macaque rambles to you about theatrical pieces from various cultures. if you introduce him to new ones, tell him something he doesn't know about a piece he's already familiar with, etc. he'll kiss you istg. anyway this is to say the feeling is mutual and he probably ends up getting into some of the media/hobbies you tell him about!

➤ you guys mutually bully each other lmao. you'll be trying to do some work, get to talking to him about whatever comes to you, and then suddenly it's three hours later. you're like "FUCK" and he just laughs at you (you get him back, of course, and it's all in good fun).

➤ he barely thinks beating anyone who talks shit about you is an overreaction, but if you don't like it then you'll just have a clone stick around in your shadow or something to scare the shit out of anyone who decides to open their mouth to you.

➤ in summary, macaque is very helpful and teaches you coping skills when it comes to sensory issues + overload.

╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝❀╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗ SUN WUKONG 🍑 ╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝

➤ first off, i headcanon Wukong as ADHD, too.

➤ with that said, i feel like Wukong just... assumed you knew you were ADHD and rolled with it.

➤ like you guys constantly quoted/repeated each other/shows and stimmed at/with each other. you'd get in loops. you'd adapt each other's phrases/stims. neurotypicals don't do that.

➤ it's genuinely amusing thinking about you two just repeating the same things at each other. it's such a serotonin boost and it makes you both laugh. same for when you stim together, especially hand-flapping and jumping up and down.

➤ you're both trash at remembering stuff but fortunately you seem to have an awful lot of capacity for the other—meaning you remind wukong he has a session with MK today because he forgot, and he reminds you that you agreed to make noodles with pigsy today because you forgot.

➤ i don't think remembering to eat or drink is a big problem for you, since wukong is a big comfort eater and shares his snacks with you so you kinda just... roll with it lol.

➤ wukong has a bunch of homemade stim tools. once he sees that you're interested, he makes some more for you. even after your diagnosis, you don't try "professionally" made stim toys—you just don't need them when wukong's work so well.

➤ you guys spend hours talking about your interests, ping-ponging off each other. like: "OH, did you know x?" "NO, but did you hear about x?" x1000.

➤ you guys also bully each other. "Hey Great Sage you forgot do the dishes again, you crusty bitch"; "says the dumbass who started folding laundry and then did a fashion show with the monkeys".

➤ like macaque, wukong's had his fair share of burnouts. unfortunately, he's not super good at preventing them or even realizing he's in them until it's been a few months, but you guys take care of each other if the other is struggling. you're also very aware of the other's limits so if one of you is pushing it, you can help each other step back.

➤ wukong learned a great deal of patience and mercy from his journey, so people being unkind to him doesn't really bother him. plus, he barely leaves his mountain as is—but if one of those times, someone doesn't to be a dick while you're stimming or something? best case scenario, he has some very choice words—worst case scenario, bro's taking it upon himself to remind the public why you should be more considerate of who you're snarking to.

➤ basically, nothing changes after you get diagnosed lol. you and wukong are very happy ADHD gremlins who are celebrating your neurodivergency :)

❝ I thought I had the ADHD, but that's a real thing (and I'm just lazy) .❞

[erigold13261]

can people be born mute

Looking it up, and yes! People can be born mute.

Kids with cognitive problems sometimes won't be able to speak, there are nonverbal kids who never speak a word but can understand perfectly fine. Medical conditions such as apraxia can occur in the throat ("apraxia is the loss of ability to execute or carry out skilled movement and gestures, despite having the physical ability and desire to perform them").

Kids who are underdeveloped, have birth defects, or had an early injury can all be mute too. There are illnesses that can permanently mute people and kids. Paralysis of the larynx is also a thing that can happen too.

There is also a thing called Alalia, which "refers to a delay in the development or use of the mechanisms that produce speech." Meaning that kids can be delayed in their ability to speak or understand language (or both).

I don't know if there is something that makes babies FULLY mute, as in not even screaming or able to make ANY vocal sound. I have tried looking for that in my own research and either I have been missing it, it is not well documented, or does not happen (I doubt that it has never happened though).

But anyway, yes! There are ways people can be born mute, made mute very early, or decide to be mute as children! I'd suggest looking stuff up yourself because it's a lot more fun to read all the different kinds of disorders, diseases, and lifestyles that are related to muteness. You can go down a whole rabbit hole!

I should go down the rabbit hole some more because I never heard of Alalia or Apraxia the last time I was looking up muteness.

[fullmetall]

i like thinking abt pre-canon ed but i also like thinking abt post-canon ed a lot

[irithnova]

I wish I wasn't shown this because it's even more fucking annoying than her first response

Meeru is absolutely backtracking and no I don't believe she's trying to be self critical for a second.

I quite literally explained to Meeru in my first response to her that Panda's behaviour is genuinely abusive and dangerous (for example, causing someone to relapse in their eating disorder). I even provided Meeru with a WHOLE LIST of the things Panda did which includes blatant racism, suicide baiting, victim blaming, and inappropriate behavior infront of and towards minors.

I then went on a provided Meeru with FOUR screenshots of Panda's behavior, one of the screenshots showing her saying that she wants Manchurians to be genocided. I then pointed out that Meeru's interest in Siberians and Northern Asians is purely orientalist because she has built her blog off of the back of Northern Asian and Siberian cultures, but when being told that her friend Panda is racist against Northern Asians and was even provided a screenshot as evidence for this, she STILL went on to call it "boring cancel culture".

In the first response I also said how MULTIPLE people tried to talk to Panda privately, and she did not listen. Her behaviour is not only dangerous but we have found out that Panda has been trying to control the narrative about what happened to people throughout the fandom and telling them absolute lies about what happened, concealing the extent of her abuse and bad behaviour and outright orchestrating a hate campaign against @/miyuecakes by not only spreading lies about her with 0 evidence throughout the fandom, but by sending her posse to harass her on tumblr.

How did Meeru respond upon being given a list of the things Panda did with four screenshots of ACTUAL evidence?

"Don't blame me for not reading all 80 pages!"

"My family is struggling!"

"I care about Siberians!"

"Why did this come out around Christmas!"

She's now backtracking saying that I can't blame her for not reading all 80 pages when

1) No one fucking forced her to release that post before reading the whole document and it's quite stupid of her to release that post despite apparently not reading it

2) Even if she didn't read the whole document? I provided her with screenshots of Panda's behavior and a list of the things she's done to hurt people.

Despite this, Meeru STILL called it purely cancel culture and dismissed the evidence I gave her!

Stop backtracking!

This post is backtracking central. Oh. So NOW you agree that Panda's behavior was harmful even though I literally told you what she did and gave you evidence in my response to you?

"Why are things being handled in public" bestie I don't think I need to keep explaining to you that multiple people have tried to talk to Panda about her dangerous behavior privately but she didn't listen. She shows 0 desire to change and IMMEDIATELY went to make other friends to lie to about the whole ordeal after she left. This post is a WARNING to people to avoid her.

When I said you were orientalist , I said it was because you were given literal evidence of Panda being racist to Northern Asians , yet you decided to carry on with the narrative that this is cancel culture and that we're overreacting. I didn't say jackshit about Putin girly. If you treat racism against Northern Asians like it's just a newspaper article for you to reblog rather than an actual material reality, and dismiss racism against a Northern Asian just because your friend did it, your so called interest in their cultures means nothing!

Meeru is now blaming ME for why she couldn't read the whole document because she was too busy "defending herself" against my "insults"😂 You lie almost as often Panda does. Again, no one forced you to post that post before finishing the whole document! Don't speak on shit you don't know about !

I have the right to insult someone who stands by an abuser and shits on the victims for speaking out! Thanks !

[dragonanon]

I didn’t know this was a thing nor would I have realized what exactly it was if I received an ask similar to this…This is truly ingenious as it is insidious, please be careful out there and do your own research before forming an opinion of someone based on the words of a stranger.

Hey, let's talk about anons like this, because I know some people haven't been in a position to see the patterns these play out in on broader scale and may indeed not spot the trap.

And it is a trap.

An ask like this has several purposes.

First, it uses social justice language in passive aggressive and manipulative ways to try to coerce a behavior. In this case, the desired behavior is usually for the recipent to participate in community shunning and/or harrassment. The language above is intended to put the recipient on the defensive where, in the haste to disassociate themself from the Bad Thing, they quickly disassociate themself from the bad person, often with no particular fact checking or evidence.

The message is also intended to create a sense of being surveilled and judged by an unknown amount of people with unknown amount of social power and an unknown amount of relevance to your life.

Notice that these asks are usually framed as if they are coming from a follower or potential follower, someone who is addressing you personally and who cares about your opinion and who your blog has an effect on. However this is usually.... very much not the case. If you've ever had the misfortune to watch a gossip campaign from like this from the outside, you will very quickly notice that messages like this get sent in mass batches to dozens and dozens of strangers. (You can often turn these up with a tumblr search, if you look.)

The sender does not know you and probably does not follow you. They have a person they don't like (possibly for their stated reason and possibly not), and they are going through the reblogs of a post from that blog and mass messaging *everyone* with a form letter. They will not see your response and they will probably never even see your blog again.

Which brings us to the second goal of whisper campaigns like this:

Notice that I blacked out the names above? That's because when the recipient answers anonymous asks like this, they provide a platform for the opinion on their blog. An anonymous message like this that gets posted doesn't just spread gossip and apply pressure to the recipient, it is spread to the recipient's entire community.

The *goal* is to get access to your community. The *goal* is to use you as a soapbox.

Is the information accurate? Did anyone check? Does the anon have an ulterior social motive? BIG SHRUG

If you go into the comments on one of these whisper campaigns you will see that *most people never bother to check.*

They assume good faith from a follower, they're off balance defending themselves, and they jump straight to conciliation.

It's a really, really effective form of social manipulation, and really really commonly misused.

[enfinizatics]

dear americans,

as a polish queer woman and human rights activist, i know exactly how you're feeling right now and what to expect from these elections. i lived through the 2015-2023 regime of pis, a right-wing populist party that divided families in the same way trump did. i’ve experienced the rise of fascism in poland, the influence of far-right parties like konfederacja, and their “santa’s little helpers”—ordo iuris, an ultra-conservative catholic organization (banned in many countries, mind you) that helped enforce a near-total abortion ban and runs anti-queer campaigns in public spaces. i supported the black protests in 2016 as a middle schooler when they first tried to ban abortion. as an adult, i actively participated in the 2020 women’s strike, running from police tear gas daily after they finally passed the ban. i supported friends who faced charges.

i’ve lived through intense homophobia in poland as a queer teen and adult. i survived the first pride march in my hometown, where far-right extremists threw stones and glass at us. i endured the anti-queer propaganda spread by the ruling party in state-owned media. i survived the “rainbow night,” poland’s own stonewall moment in summer 2020, when police arrested around 50 queer activists following the arrest of margo, a nonbinary activist. i survived the "lgbt-free zones," the targeted violence, the slurs from strangers on the street, and the protests i held against queerphobia. it was hard as fuck, but i survived.

but just because i survived, it doesn’t mean others did. many women died because of the abortion ban—marta, justyna, izabela, dorota, joanna, maria, and many others who didn’t survive pis’s draconian anti-abortion laws. milo, kacper, michał, zuzia (she was 12), wiktor, and other queer and trans kids and young adults took their own lives because of the relentless queerphobia.

despite all of this, our experience in poland can serve as a guide now. here are some tips for staying safe and how we, polish queers and women, organized under the regime:

safety first, always. if you know someone who’s had an abortion, no you don’t. if you know someone is trans, no you don’t. if you know people who help with safe abortions, no you don’t—at least not until you know it’s 100% safe to share. if you are queer or have had an abortion, only share this with people you trust fully. most importantly, not everyone has to be an activist just because they’re part of a minority. if it feels unsafe to share that you're queer, trans, etc., then don’t. it doesn’t make you any less queer.

use secure, encrypted messaging like signal for conversations on potentially risky topics, such as queerness, abortion, organizing counter-actions, protests—anything that might be used against you.

stay anonymous online. if you want to research or report something without surveillance, do not use regular internet. get a vpn (mullvad is affordable and reliable), download the tor browser (for both onion and standard links), and if you plan to whistleblow, consider using a riseup email account.

organize and build networks. community is everything now. support each other, foster independence, because your government won’t have your back. set up collectives, grassroots movements. create lists of trusted professionals—lawyers, doctors, etc.—who can offer support.

to lawyers and doctors: please consider pro-bono work. this is what got us through poland’s hardest times. your work will be needed now more than ever.

for protests or risky actions: always write a pro-bono lawyer’s number on your arm with a permanent marker.

get to know the anarchist black cross federation and other resources on safety culture: "Starting an anarchist black cross group: A guide"; Still We Rise - A resource pack for transgender and non-gender conforming people in prison; Safe OUTside the system by the Audre Lorde Project;

for safe abortion info or involvement: get familiar with womenhelpwomen.

stay radical, stay strong, stay informed: The Anarchist Library

if i forgot to (or didn't) include something, don't hesitate to reblog this post with other resources.

[currently-becoming-potatoes]

i shall pound that voice into the pavement :)