#i’m still working on a long fic but like

[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, “我會很榮幸的。 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.”

[dooberific]

❝ 𝘞𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘣𝘰𝘰? ❞

harumasa x afab!reader

lighter x afab!reader (separate)

genre: domestic, kinda crack fic esque???, suggestive content (mdni)

summary: you ask you beloved one of the most pressing questions of your relationship

wc: 1.8k

harumasa

The universe had to be testing him right now, as he simply couldn’t fathom any other way that this could be happening.

His day was way too long, what was supposed to be a simple collaboration between the HIA and Section 6 to test new hypersensitive VR combat training equipment ended in nothing short of an IT nightmare with the revelation that hacker Null_Face had tampered with their systems. After spending what felt like hours in a virtual simulation that felt more like an apocalyptic fever dream, then spending another few hours being poked and prodded by H.A.N.D’s medical team to ensure everyone was still of sound mind and body, he was finally released to trudge home for the day and back to your loving arms.

He wanted to cry when he kicked his sneakers off at the door, the smell of fried rice in the air and the image of you standing in his kitchen, wearing his clothes, smiling like the angelic being you were as you gave him a welcome home kiss. His karmic debt had been paid, the balance of the world was correcting, and he was off work for the next few hours. All was well with the world, right up until the moment you snuggled up so cutely beside him on the couch to watch a movie, turning to prop your chin on his shoulder as you stared up at him.

“Asaba?”

“Yeah, baby?” He said effortlessly, head turning to peck you on the lips as you beamed up at him.

“Would you still love me if I was a bangboo?”

You may as well have snapped his precious bow in half for how dramatically he reacted, his body stiffening as his face went stony. Maybe somewhere in his brief recollection of his day to you as he hung over your shoulder while you cooked he conveniently forgot to tell you that they VR warped him into a bangboo body, not a difficult thing to forget as he was both traumatized from the feeling of stubby, helpless limbs and preoccupied with the way you squirmed in his arms as he pressed sloppy kisses all over the side of your neck.

But you didn’t know that. What you did know was that you were now staring into the most blank and desolated expression you had ever seen grace his face.

You forced a short laugh, pointing at him accusingly as he snapped back from his nightmarish recollection of the full emasculation of his pride for the day.

“Oh, I see how it is.” You smacked the back of your hand against his chest as you intentionally scooted to the far end of the couch. “You think I would make an ugly bangboo!”

“(Y/n), baby, I never said that!” He fussed, reaching to grab your hand just for you to swat him away with a maliciously sly expression, quickly hopping to your feet as you made a stance dramatic enough to rival his own exaggerated impressions.

“You’re gonna regret not telling me you would love me if I was bangboo, Asaba Harumasa!” You declared before thrusting your thumb into your chest, “Cause I’m about to go rearrange your entire medicine cabinet.”

He shot up to his feet, the lethargy of the day vanishing in the blink of an eye at threat of you upending his perfect (to him) system of organization. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me, bitch!” Was the final declaration as you zipped around the corner of the couch in a mad dash to prove your point. It was times like this that you really hated that he was a well trained hollow-exploring, ethereal-fighting machine, because it made chases all the more terrifying as you heard the telltale thump! of his feet hitting the floor again as he cleared the couch in a single jump, in hot pursuit.

Your hands barely grazed the door handle before you let out a shriek, his arms wrapping around your midsection before your feet left the floor entirely, body now upended and dangling where he tossed you over his shoulder. You kicked your feet helplessly for a moment, your shrieks devolving into a fit of laughter as his hand connected firmly with your ass.

“This is not fair, Asaba!” You huffed out, fisting the back of his work shirt.

“Who said anything about fair?” He countered, jostling you on his shoulder once for good measure as you squirmed before he marched you right past the bathroom and into his room. “You wanted to play dirty, so let’s play dirty.” He said as he flipped you unceremoniously onto his unmade bed, laughing at the little “oof!” you made before you immediately attempted to wrestle him away with a devious little grin.

He pinned your hands with ease, resting his full weight on you in an even more irritating manner as he leaned in for a kiss, his hands releasing your wrists in favor of sliding up under the hem of your shirt as you keened into lips, his tongue teasing its way into your mouth as you turned to putty beneath him.

“You,” he began breathlessly as he broke away, nibbling at your glossy lower lip as you whimpered, “need to stop jumping to conclusions. Who ever said I would stop loving you?”

lighter

“What’d ya say, babe?” He called over his shoulder, the roar of the wind and his motorcycle having carried away the sweet tone of your voice from where you sat behind him, arms secured snugly around his waist as you raced across the flat expanse of the Outer Ring.

It was the first time you both were free in the past few weeks, his work for the Sons of Calydon having kept him away even as your schedule at one of the pump stations in the Old Oil Field opened up. Dinner in Blazewood and a cruise through the desert back to your place was always a nice little treat, your body warm against his back as your eyes danced across the dunes and hollows that decorated your home territory.

You propped your chin against his shoulder, wind whipping your hair wildly around your face. “I’ll tell you when we pull over!” You half-yelled over the wind, his head tilting just enough for you to catch that sly look in his pretty eyes that made your stomach flip as one of his hands squeezed the fat of your thigh coyly.

“Suit yourself, sweetheart.”

Maybe you should have tried to ask again before you got back, timing would have been a little more prime than when you were straddling his lap on your dusty couch, hands fisted into his hair as he licked into your hot mouth like a man starved of affection, calloused hands directing your hips to grind against his own as you both moaned like a couple bitches in heat.

His zeal shouldn't have surprised you, after all it was kinda your fault that you ended up here. You knew better than anyone how much he loved being needed, wanted even, and had absentmindedly played it up beautifully all evening. Asking him first to help you change a part on your car and later dismissing another man’s attempts at flirting with you over a can of nitro fuel by waltzing right over to your dear Champion and slinging a leg over his lap, throwing your arms around his neck and placing a searing kiss against his lips as you declared yourself taken?

He would never consider himself one for public displays of affection, but he couldn’t deny that something about you openly proclaiming yourself his had him itching to get you alone.

You broke from the sloppy makeout, his hands drifting up your spine to push you right back into his waiting grasp impatiently before you planted your palm against his chest, shoving him back into the couch as you righted yourself.

“I’ve got a question for you.” You drawled, earning a hum of acknowledgment from him which you doubted to be him actually listening considering the glazed over expression in his eyes and the way he still fiddled with the button on your shorts.

“Lighter, I’m serious!”

“Alright,” his hands raised in faux defeat as he let his head hang back against the couch. “I’m all ears, what is this burning question ya got?”

It was your turn to grin now. “Would you,” you started as your fingers tracing his clavicle teasingly as you leaned in, now you were certain you had his undivided attention because his eyes were firmly fixed on your swollen lips.

“Still love me if I was a bangboo?”

He was silent for a beat, brow furrowing momentarily in a way you could only describe as cute before he gave you the best treat of your evening. His chest rumbled under your hands, one of his own raising quickly to try and smother the laugh that burned through his throat.

“This is a serious question!” You quickly asserted, only for him to fully turn his face away from you all the more entertained at your disgrace at his laughter. It took one inhale before you knew you had him good, getting another little glimpse at your “big bad champion” who snorted and teared when he laughed hard enough as you devolved right alongside him.

He sucked in a shaky breath, wiping at the corner of his eyes as he relaxed beneath you, hands rubbing little circles against your hips as he stared you down with the warmest look in his eyes. “Would I still love you if you were a bangboo, huh? Yeah, I think so, if you kept that fiery personality ya got, but I sure would miss a lot of things about my baby.”

“Is that so?” You hummed, fingers lacing behind his neck as your twirled the hair at his nape, enjoying the empowering feeling of having him shiver under your touch.

“Mhm. Like your arms that are just long enough to wrap around me when I wanna take you for a ride, or all that hair of yours that blows in my face when you decide it’s your turn to drive, can’t forget these pretty thighs of yours that you try and smother me with when—,”

“Lighter.” You warn, but it falls on deaf ears.

“And I would definitely miss a few other things about you if you know what I mean.” As if you hadn’t caught on enough he ground his hips up into your ass for good measure as you swatted his chest.

“Lighter Lorenz, stop being such a tease!”

“Oh, I’m the tease?”

Before you could respond he had already flipped you off his lap and onto your back against the couch, prizing your legs apart to settle between them as he leaned in, lips brushing just against yours as he spoke.

“Well if that’s what you want, who am I to keep it from ya?”

Rey 2024

[miupow]

ℌOℓเ𝔇AY 𝔇ECOɌATเNɠ ⸝⸝ 휴닝카이

asking your favorite i.t guy for help decorating goes horribly (or perfectly) wrong. 一 𝒾n 𝓌hich you and your coworker huening kai get stuck in a closet together during a snowstorm。

⧼ 🎄 ⧽ 一 𝓅airing・hueningkai x fem!reader 𝓰enre/𝓌arnings・smut, fluff, pwp, nsfw, minors do not interact! trapped in a closet trope, power outages, sex with the lights off, groping, breast worship, nipple sucking, dry humping, handjobs, clitoral stimulation, unprotected sex, pullout method, vaginal sex, cumshot, cum marking, begging, slight sub!kai but not really, praise kink, size kink, resolved romantic and sexual tension 𝓌c ・5. 9 k | 𝓉o 𝓁ibrary.

[𝓃otes。] holy shit this is so much longer than i meant for it to be. i was just possessed by some sort of demon and wrote this thing in two days, which is the fastest i've ever written anything ever... thank you @jellymochii for betareading! hope you all enjoy this cute little fic while on your holiday breaks ^_^

no one had ever bothered to warn you about how difficult it was to plan a party. maybe if someone had, you wouldn’t have jumped at the opportunity when it had been presented to you— though it was awfully in your nature as a corporate kiss-ass to accept any work-related project that was offered to you in blind hope that you’ll manage to impress some higher-up somewhere along the line. you had only been hired at txt bank a few months ago, anyway, and the lady you replaced was the one who oversaw all the holiday decorating. didn’t that mean, technically speaking, that by association it was now your job too? either way, you figured that it would do you some good to prove yourself dependable.

“i’m sure you’ll do great,” your boss, yeonjun had reassured you with a not-so-comforting pat on the back. “don’t be afraid to ask for help!”

you were terrified to ask for help. you didn’t even know most of your coworkers’ names yet, let alone feel comfortable enough with them to ask for help with a benefit-less side quest. it might just be paranoia, but you were sure they wouldn’t want to help you even if you did ask. the old financial analysist seems to have been a popular staple in the office, and you were a far cry away from the life of the party. young, inexperienced, and far too shy for your own good— you’ve never had any of your peers reach out to you for more than letting you know what you were doing wrong. yeonjun’s assistant, beomgyu, was the only person in the bank you felt even remotely comfortable with, having known him since you were a freshman in college, and without his mentoring and his happy-go-lucky attitude, you were sure that you would have buckled under the pressure long before you made it to the new year.

naturally, you run to him first.

“you don’t want my help, believe me,” he laughs, swiveling around in his desk chair to face you. “why don’t you ask kai? you know he’ll say yes— hell, you could probably ask him to jump from the tenth floor and he’d do it. he’s obsessed with you.”

“he’s not obsessed.” you retort weakly, rolling your eyes. “he’s just being nice.”

“sure, buying you coffee and lunch, following you around like a lost puppy, and offering to walk you to your car every night is just being nice.”

“i asked him to that first time!” you pout. “the parking garage is scary when it’s dark out…”

huening kai worked in the bank’s i.t. department, down in the basement. even then, you still saw him often, the poor boy constantly running up and down those stairs whenever he was called. he was the only stranger to welcome you warmly when you first began at the company, offering his assistance with anything you needed— it was an honest godsend, because the computer software went so far over your head it made you dizzy. you still haven’t gotten quite the hang of it, but that was mostly because it was difficult to focus on what kai was saying when he was bent over you so closely and intimately, explaining equations and spreadsheets with that soft, gentle voice of his. you only felt dizzier in his presence, so nothing he told you ever stuck… but that worked just fine for you, because that meant you could keep asking for his help.

beomgyu says that kai has a crush on you. you’re certain he’s just that sweet and friendly with everyone. 

as much as you hate it, beomgyu’s right that kai would help you out if you asked him to. you feel bad for hogging up all of his time, as busy as he is even when he isn’t assisting people, but if beomgyu won’t help you he’s the only other person you’re willing to ask. when you see him again later that evening, smiling that pretty lopsided smile that gives your tummy butterflies, offering to walk you through the parking garage again, you ask him meekly if he’d help you decorate for the office christmas party.

he accepts a little more enthusiastically than you had anticipated he would. “there’s a storage closet down in the basement that has some old decorations from last year’s party.” he tells you as you dig around in your purse for your car keys, “i can show it to you sometime if you’d like! it’ll have to be after everyone goes home, though. i’m technically not allowed to go rooting through storage.”

“isn’t there supposed to be a snowstorm tomorrow?” you ask. “yeonjun told me he’ll let everyone go home early if it starts getting really bad. maybe we can stay behind then?”

“ooh, sneaky.” kai giggles. “sounds like a plan!”

your heart raced the entire drive home. it was just going through some old dusty decorations, it wasn’t a date or anything even close to it, but why did your heartbeat flutter like it was one? that night you tossed and turned, unable to sleep— no matter how hard you tried to clear your head you couldn’t stop thinking about your plans with kai. part of you was nervous you would land in trouble with yeonjun if you were caught snuck around the office after hours, but all of that anxiety was drowned out effortlessly by your excitement and anticipation. alone? with kai? it might not be a date to him, but it sure was one to you.

by the time exhaustion finally overtook you, rays of light from the rising sun were already beginning to stream through the gap in your curtains. you get only a few hours of sleep before your morning alarm forces you awake. you’re tired and groggy, and can barely stay awake to get dressed and ready for work, but the sight of fresh falling snow out your window revitalizes you better than any cup of coffee. frigid, bitter wind slaps you in the face as you leave your house, your flimsy scarf and coat doing little to shield you from the brewing blizzard, but you can’t find it in you to be unhappy even as you nearly slip and break your neck getting to your car. this is exactly what you were hoping for, and a quick glance at your phone confirms that the snowfall is only going to get worse.

you find it difficult to focus all day, partly because of your nerves and partly because you kept looking out the office windows to admire the snow. seoul turns nearly invisible below you, all the streets and buildings covered in a sparkling, dazzling blanket of pure white that blinds you. it was oddly peaceful, the swirling snowfall silencing the usually loud and bustling city.

by lunchtime, you couldn’t see anything outside at all. the snowflakes turn rapidly to sleet and ice, and the wind picks up to the point it’s howling and shaking the windows. yeonjun began sending people home at two, and by four the office was silent for an entirely different reason.

you tell yeonjun that you have some extra statements to go through, but that you’ll be leaving shortly— you even make a show out of packing up your purse, going extra slow just in case he wants to stay and chat. thankfully, he exits the office without much fuss, reminding you to drive carefully, and to tell security when you’re leaving so they could lock up behind you.

“of course, sir, thank you. have a good night.” you reply with a tight smile, praying that you don’t look as guilty as you feel.

once you hear the exit doors close behind him, you shoot up out of your desk and hightail it to the basement. kai meets you at the stairs, grinning and waving excitedly with his bag slung over his shoulder. “it shouldn’t take very long, the closet’s pretty small,” he says, ushering you to follow him. “i want us both to get out of here before the storm gets any worse.”

while you certainly wouldn’t mind spending extra time alone with kai, the last thing you want is to get snowed in at the office. he leads you down a dimly lit hallway, flanked on each side by identical personal offices. the rooms were empty and dark, devoid of any signs of life or activity— it shouldn’t surprise you, seeing how everyone had left for the day, but something about the uncanny, isolated atmosphere gave you the creeps. kai continues to lead you to the very end of the hall, stopping at a scuffed, unmarked wooden door. a keypad fixed to the adjacent wall blinks brightly in the dark.

“this is the closet you were talking about?” you question, eyeing the door oddly. “it doesn’t look like a storage closet at all. why’s it got a keypad?”

“it used to be a server room, i think. there’s still some equipment in the back.” kai responds lightly, bending over slightly to plug in the code for the keypad. “now it’s just used to store stuff we don’t need, though only my department can use it. expensive computers and whatnot. after last year’s christmas party i helped put away everything, and i stored it all in here ‘cos i was too lazy to take it all the way to the top floor.”

the keypad beeps and the little blinking light turns green. kai pulls the door open and gestures you inside.

the air in the storage closet is stale and dusty. you search in the dark for the light switch, but kai locates it with ease, and you find yourself having to blink hard a couple of times to adjust to the near-blinding fluorescent light. against each wall countless labeled boxes and tubs are stacked up nearly to the ceiling, each one filled to the brim. a line of folding chairs leaned up against a broken desk, a ladder and some cleaning supplies occupied a far corner. as kai had said, abandoned old server racks had been pushed to the very back of the room, collecting dust, far too outdated to be of any use anymore. the room was small and narrow with no windows, barely enough room to move around besides the carefully constructed walkway that wove between all the junk. you feel awfully claustrophobic, especially with kai’s tall, broad frame stepping in behind you. you both toss your bags to an empty spot on the floor, and the door swings shut with a dull click.

you can still hear the storm outside, even down here. the wind howls and whips around viciously, and the sleet pummels the walls like thousands of tiny bullets.

“there should be a fake tree in here somewhere,” huening murmurs, squeezing past you to make his way towards the back of the closet. his chest brushes against your back as he moves past, and you can feel the firm planes of his broad pecs through the thin material of his button down shirt. “and some wreaths and ribbons and things. i think i hid them all back here so i wouldn’t get in trouble.”

you laugh airily, a little too distracted to fully pay attention to what he was saying. “you? in trouble? i don’t think yeonjun has the heart.”

kai shrugs, opening a random cardboard box and peering inside. “you’d be surprised. you haven’t been here long enough to see what he’s capable of— oh, by the way, how are you liking it here so far? getting the hang of everything?”

you should probably be helping him, but you can’t tear your eyes away from the way the muscles in his back ripple through his shirt. “i, um. i’m still figuring it out. i really appreciate your help.”

the blizzard grows even louder outside, to the point it’s beginning to frighten you. you don’t think you’ve ever heard of a snowstorm causing a building’s walls to cave in, but there’s always a first for everything.

if kai notices that you haven’t moved from where you stood by the door, he doesn’t mention it. “no need to thank me! i’m happy to, really. i’ll help you out with whatever you need anytime, y/n, you just have to ask. you know you can count on me.” he moves on to another box, seemingly still searching in vain for those decorations. ”who’s your favorite coworker? if you have one, i mean—ah, that’s a stupid question. it’s probably beomgyu.”

kai’s tone changed suddenly, from happy and bright to something you couldn’t quite place. you’ve never heard kai sound like that before. “what do you mean?” you prod, cocking your head to the side.

he looks as if he’s weighing the question, biting the inside of his round cheek as his eyes look everywhere except at your face. “well, i mean, like… he’s your friend, right? and you and him have known each other for years now. you hang out with him every day, outside of work too, going to the bar and whatever. and you’re always talking about him, and laughing at his jokes, and looking his stupid face and his stupid hair—”

you’re not sure how to quite process that. “actually, kai… my favorite coworker is you.”

kai’s head spins around so fast that you’re afraid it’s going to come off, his big brown eyes wide with shock. “wait, what? really?!”

“yes, really.” you giggle, “i thought you would have known that, silly. beomgyu’s my friend and all, but he gets on my nerves all the time. you’ve just been so sweet to me when nobody else has, and you’ve made me feel so welcome… it really means a lot.”

kai’s face turns an adorable shade of pink, all the way to the tips of his ears. “oh. well. um. th-thank you. i—” he averts his eyes back to all the boxes, shyly lowering his head. his long dark bangs fall into his eyes, shielding the unreadable emotions that swirled in their dark chocolate depths. “i’m glad you feel that way… i can’t seem to find any of these stupid decorations, i’m worried we’re not going to be able to make it out of here before the power goes—”

just then, the light flickers, pops, and plunges both of you back into complete and total darkness.

“—out.”

it’s so dark inside the storage closet that you can’t even see your hands in front of your face— if you screw your eyes shut and open them again, it makes no difference, completely blind to everything except the cacophonous howling of the wind. “shit!” kai curses, the first time you’ve ever heard him do so, some loud stumbling and crashing coming from your left. “hold on, i’ll get us out of here—”

more crashing and banging, now moving your way; you open your mouth to warn him far too late, and kai barrels into you, nearly knocking you over. “sorry!” he yelps, outstretching his arm to break your fall and instead grabbing a fat fistful of your breast. he doesn’t seem to even notice, his hands large and warm and squeezing a little too tightly, seeping through the thin material of your blouse and bra and making a very unwelcome heat bloom between your legs.

“um, kai,” you stutter, trying your hardest to keep your voice level, “that’s… my boob.”

kai tears his hand away as if it were touching hot coals, and much to your dismay you find yourself immediately missing his touch. “i’m so sorry!” he repeats in a rush, stumbling over his words, his usually deep voice a couple octaves higher. you’re sure his handsome face is glowing crimson red, and distantly you wish the lights were on so you could see it. “i— i, i  didn’t mean to, i swear!”

“i know you didn’t,” you reassure him quickly, reaching out your own arms to help him squeeze himself by. with your help, he manages to slip his way past you, towards the general vicinity of the doorway, his feet knocking over things all the way there. you can hear him pressing buttons rapidly on the keypad, the device making no noise or beeping any lights— kai curses again and slams his fist against the wall, the loud thud echoing throughout the dark room.

“we’re stuck in here.��� kai mutters in dismay.

“what do you mean we’re stuck in here?!”

“the door automatically locks itself when it closes and the keypad is the only way to unlock it… and it turned off along with the power. it’s alright though, the backup generator should turn on any minute now…”

the two of you stand around in silence for a long pregnant pause. the power does not turn back on.

“or not.” he gripes. “okay, this is fine, we’ll get out of here somehow— here, let me turn on my phone flashlight…”

kai rummages around in his pockets before pulling out what you assume is his phone. you anticipate seeing the little flashlight to finally illuminate the all-encompassing dark, but it never comes. “…and my phone’s dead. great. just great.”

“you really need to get better about charging that thing.” you quip sarcastically. “how many times have you asked to borrow my charger? now i only bring it because i know you’ll need it.”

“i know, i didn’t— wait, really? just for me?”

you don’t respond to his question, your cheeks flaring up from the confession you didn’t mean to let slide. “my phone should still have a charge.” you say, attempting to change the subject, “but i left it in my purse. i’m gonna try and grab it.”

carefully, you begin to shuffle your way towards the corner of the room, where you were at least mostly certain that you and kai had placed down your bags. kai follows you closely, his large hands balanced on your shoulders to keep him steady… a fine ideas at first, when you were making good headway, but you didn’t get very far at all.

you manage to only make it a few short steps before your kitten heel catches on something rolling around on the ground— kai must have knocked the contents of a few boxes over on his way over to you, little plastic bulbs that feel an awful lot like christmas ornaments, as ironic as it is. you trip and stumble, and you probably could have caught yourself easily if it wasn’t for kai’s large body falling with you. you both come crashing to the floor, your sharp gasp drowned out by kai’s loud shriek right in your ear; he squishes you against the cold linoleum floor, his chest pressed against your back, his hips flush against your ass. you try to wriggle free, but kai is just too heavy on top of you, motionless and oddly silent as he breathes hard against the back of your neck.

 “oh my god, kai, you big oaf, get off of me!” you whine, attempting in vain to push yourself up onto your hands and knees— your wiggle your hips against kai’s own, akin to a bucking hose trying to unseat it’s rider, and that’s when you feel it.

your pencil skirt has ridden up so that only your pantyhose and underwear were covering your ass, and you can feel every inch of kai’s hardening dick pressed up against you as if there were no clothes between you at all. the weight and curve of it, slotted perfectly between your asscheeks like it belonged there, the way it twitches violently in his slacks when you gasp.

“i’m sorry,” he whimpers, his head buried in your shoulder, his voice wobbly like he was about to cry, “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry—”

just then do you register his hands on your hips, touching you so intimately, steadfast in their movements down your ass and thighs despite shaking like a leaf. he’s never been this close to you before, his body so sculpted and masculine against you, his soft plump lips ghosting over the exposed skin of your neck, wafts of his musky cologne clouding your senses. you shouldn’t do this, you should remain professional… but you’ve wanted huening kai for months, since you first met him, and having him pressed against you so helpless and vulnerable has destroyed all your control and reason. all you could think about was that kai wanted you too, and you had the proof straining against you and begging to be freed.

you roll your hips back against him slowly, as if not to startle him— the broken moan that falls from those kissable lips is downright obscene, whiny and desperate, shooting hot sparks of pleasure down your body to your core.

“a-ah, d-did you, um. did you mean to d-do that?” he asks in a small voice, his cock growing even harder against you.

you can’t take it anymore— in kai’s dazed state you manage to pull yourself up from underneath him, spinning around on your knees to grab wildly in his direction. you manage to get your fist wrapped around his tie, and with a sharp tug kai’s lips come crashing down onto yours. his lips are soft and pillowy against your own, tasting a little sweet, like the tea with milk and honey he enjoys drinking while he works. his panting breath tickles your skin, his fingers coming up to card through your hair as you open your mouths and breathe each other in. your bodies press together heatedly, hands roaming everywhere you could reach, groping and pulling each other impossibly closer together. kai’s other hand slides down your back to cup your ass, squeezing the plush lightly between his fingers. swathed in all this darkness, it was easy to forget that you weren’t dreaming.

you’ve never kissed or been kissed like this before.

“does that answer your question?” you giggle when you part for air, panting hotly into each others mouths before kai descends upon you to recapture your lips himself.

this kiss is even more heated than the last, kai prying your lips apart to deepen the passion with teeth and tongue. you wish you could see, could admire the sharp tic of kai’s jaw as he kissed you, lose yourself in those beautiful brown eyes. bear some witness to something you were sure would never happen. you could feel the thud of your combined heartbeats, blood rushing in your ears to drown out the storm as you both fumble with each other’s clothes. kai’s hands move to cup your tits, squeezing harshly when you run your hand down his chest and belly to his belt buckle. it’s a struggle to unfasten in the dark, but you manage to roughly tear his fly open and fish his hot throbbing cock out of his boxers. you wrap your hand around it, so fat your fingers barely connect— kai lets out a strangled whine as you stroke up to thumb at the tip, thick globs of precum slicking up your hand.

“t-take it off,” kai grits out against your lips, his large hands fumbling with the buttons of your blouse, “please, wanna feel—”

an affirming hum is all he needs, impatiently pulling at the buttons— your blouse pops open with a loud ripping sound, and he pulls both your top and bra down just enough for your breasts to fall out. your nipples harden in the cold air, but they’re quickly warmed up by kai’s fingers. he pinches and tugs at the buds roughly, the sensation making you keen wantonly.

“kai! that shirt was expensive!” you whine, but the hand pumping his cock only strokes faster— you really couldn’t find it within yourself to care much about anything, and you wanted to make sure kai didn’t stop to apologize even more than he already has.

“couldn’t help it, i just love your tits,” kai groans, letting go of your nipples to grope and massage the fat mounds of your breasts. his grip gets tighter with every flick of your wrist, breath coming out in short airy pants. “fuck, you’re so sexy, it makes me g-go insane. running around in those tight tops and those short little skirts, i just want to— ah!— f-fuck you all the time—!”

“kai,” you whimper, rubbing your thighs together in an attempt to quell the searing heat growing between them.

“i wish i could see you right now,” he continues, and you jump at the sensation of a hot wet tongue against your nipple. “i could probably cum just from how hot you look— god, i’ve been wanting to do this for forever.”

his plump, spit-slick lips seal around your hard bud, his hands continuing to play with your chest as he sucks and nibbles. you cry out high in your throat, letting go of his twitching cock to crumple your fist in his shirt. your pussy aches to be touched, dripping so much slick you’re sure you’ve completely ruined your panties. kai’s fingers and mouth better than anything you’ve ever felt before, good enough to make you cum from just this alone, but you desperately, wildly, primally need more.

“touch me!” you beg him, pulling him impossibly closer, right where you need him most. “kai, please touch me!”

kai gives your nipple one last tug between his teeth before pulling off with a pop, leaving your breasts covered in his spit and erupting in goose flesh from the frigid air. slowly and carefully he crawls himself between your open legs, sliding his fingers underneath your bunched up skirt. he runs a fingertip down the gusset of your panties, just the ghost of a touch, but it’s enough to make you keen in delight. “you’re so wet,” kai laments, sounding utterly debauched, rubbing between your weeping pussy lips over the lace, circling your clit until you mewl, “made a mess in your panties… did i really make you this wet? that’s so fucking hot…”

he relinquishes his finger, and you’re not sure what you were expecting next, but it definitely wasn’t for him to grab ahold of your pantyhose and underwear and tear them from your body in one powerful yank. the nylon and lace rip like paper, the ghastly sound ringing in your ears, and kai tosses the shredded fabric to the side before positioning himself to kneel between your thighs.

“i’ll do more than touch you if you’ll let me,” he whispers in your ear, running his hand up your inner thigh leaving behind a burning trail in it’s wake, “i wanna fuck you so bad, baby, please, can i? i’ll buy you new clothes, i’ll buy you whatever you want, just let me ruin you…”

“we don’t have a condom…” you breathe, but you widen your legs to give him more room anyway. usually that would be a deal-breaker for you, but you’ve already done more in this closet than you would have ever even dreamed of doing.

“i’ll pull out, i promise.” kai’s voice is far too soothing for your own good, those terrible, god-sent big hands grabbing ahold of the back of your knees to expose you even further. you can hardly think at all anymore, too focused on the throbbing need swirling deep in your pussy, and how good it would feel if you would take the risk and just let go.

“please…” is all you can manage to say, and with a delighted groan huening folds your legs up to rest on his shoulders and positions his weeping cock at your entrance. it feels so filthy, with your torn-up pantyhose still clinging to your legs and your heels hanging from your toes, and once again you wished desperately that you could see just how lewd of a sight the two of you were.

kai slides his cock up and down between your folds, getting his shaft nice and wet with your juices. his bulbous cockhead bumps deliciously against your clit before gliding back down to your entrance, pressing against the rim of your hole just enough to tease before letting up and doing it again. as hot as it is and as good as it feels, you can’t handle any teasing anymore, not when you’ve been on the edge and in need of release for this long.

“put it in,” you beg, and you can hardly recognize your own voice. you sound so needy, so pornographic— it would be embarrassing if you weren’t this far gone. “please, please, need you s’ bad, kai, need your cock—”

kai shushes you with an unexpectedly chaste kiss, sweet and gentle and nothing at all like the way he was thrusting himself inside of your tight wet heat like an animal. the stretch burns so good you nearly scream, his cock longer and fatter than any you’ve ever taken before. for a delirious moment you worry that he’ll tear you in half, that he won’t fit, your walls clenching down on him like a vice as he forces his way deeper and deeper, until his tip kisses your cervix and his balls slap wetly against your ass.

“s-so big,” you slur, clawing weakly at his chest, your mouth slack and your mind completely blank except for how impossibly full you feel.

“is it too much?” kai asks you nervously, back to his sweet anxious self for a split second. “i’m so sorry, i couldn’t stop myself, pussy’s sucking me in—”

“feels so goo-o-od!” you mewl dumbly, finding it harder and harder to string a sentence together the longer kai is inside of you. “need more, hyuka, give it to me!”

the innocent nickname makes him moan, and just like you wanted and pleaded for he begins to fuck you in sincere earnest. his thrusts are fast and brutal, lit by a deep, primal fire you had no idea kai possessed. it knocks the wind out of you, overwhelmed in the best possible way, your mouth falling slack and your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as you moan loudly every time his cock spears your cervix.

“deep! so f-fucking deep!” you hiccup breathlessly, surrendering yourself completely to the onslaught of red-hot pleasure. you can feel him in your belly, right under your navel, your wet little pussy squelching obscenely with every movement of kai’s hips. he finds your sweet spot with shocking ease, angling his cock to drag against that spongey bundle of nerves and make you even wetter.

“yeah?” kai croons, thrusting himself inside of you impossibly harder, faster, “feels so good, huh? fuck, this pussy’s so fucking wet, so fucking tight— best cunt i’ve ever had, baby, feels better than i ever imagined… can’t let you go now, perfect girl all for me. this perfect pussy’s all mine, you hear, no one elses!”

he recaptures your pert nipple between his lips, suckling even rougher than before; your breasts bounce to the rhythm of his thrusts, sensitive flesh jiggling in his face as he trails his teeth and tongue across the planes of your cleavage, leaving dusky lovebites in his wake. he slobbers over your tits like a hungry dog, his moans and whines muffled by your nipples he takes turns slurping them up into his mouth. the pangs of pleasure from your sore nipples combined with kai’s quickening pace and filthy words tug you closer and closer to the brink of insanity, the fiery hot tsunami building deep within your belly threatening to overflow and toss you into its euphoric depths.

“love you so much,” kai admits as he continues to babble nonsense, seemingly not noticing just what was coming out of his mouth, “been wanting you for so fucking long, needed you  so bad— my pretty girl, so beautiful, wanna see your face when you cum. you must look so sexy when you cum.”

your heart clenches along with your cunt.

there is nothing you can see, but there is plenty you can hear— kai’s hips clapping against your ass, his beautiful broken whimpering, the slick sounds of your pussy gushing around his cock. you open your mouth to speak, voice the mounting ecstasy that built steadily in your throbbing cunt, but you can’t seem to get out anything other than shrill, pathetic cries of pleasure. your mind was wiped completely blank, nothing but static behind your eyes, thoughts filled with nothing except the pressure in your core and how good it would feel if you let it consume you.

“gonna cum!” you wail, using up all your energy into making yourself speak— kai groans happily, his thrusts grow desperate and sloppy, speeding up to pound your sweet spot into oblivion.

“yes! cum with me, angel, come on, you can do it.” he coos, voice shaking as his body jolts and shudders above you. his hands come down to press hard on your engorged, sensitive clit, rubbing tight circles against the throbbing bud. “that’s it, make a mess, cum all over my cock!”

your orgasm hits you like a truck, your entire body shaking from the overwhelming pleasure as you pulsate and gush around him. you recognize distantly that you’re squirting, droplets of viscous liquid splashing all over your tummy and thighs, drenching huening as well. your release triggers his own climax, and he wrenches out his cock from your quivering pussy just milliseconds before ropes and ropes of thick, sticky cum splatters hot and wet all over your heaving tits.

“holy fuck,” kai whimpers, unable to catch his breath, “that was the best sex i’ve ever had.”

you just giggle weakly, trying to calm down your racing heart yourself; the two of you lay against each other in silence for a moment basking in the afterglow while you both come down from your highs. your orgasm sucked all the life force out of you, it seemed, leaving you weak and exhausted as you lay boneless on the cold storage closet floor.

and just like that, the lights turn back on. the heating system starts back up again. you’re nearly blinded after spending so long in the dark, squinting your eyes as you take in your surroundings.

kai is staring right back at you.

his dark hair is wild and sticking out in all directions, his eyes blown wide and his cheeks dusted pink. his tie is half-undone and his work shirt is terribly wrinkled, drenched in what you can only assume to be your juices. his softening cock lies against his thigh, poking out from his unzipped fly, slacks just as damp and ruined as his shirt was. his chest heaves with the force of his breaths, no doubt taking in your own appearance himself. you look down just enough to see your torn clothes, your cumstained breasts and wet thighs, your smart professional outfit looking like it was ravaged by some sort of rabid animal.

“you look beautiful.” kai whispers in rapture, gazing down at you with soft melted chocolate eyes.

“um.” you respond smartly, cheeks burning, averting your eyes to check the closet door— the keypad’s light blinks cheerfully at you, as if it had never been turned off in the first place. “do you want to get out of here?”

kai smiles, that signature smile that gives you even more butterflies now than it did before. “do you wanna watch a christmas movie at my place?”

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©𝚖𝚒𝚞-𝚙𝚘𝚠.𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐。𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝, 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎, 𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚢 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖. 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍.

[amourquinn]

( short fic ) 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

pairing : fwb!quinn x fem!reader wc. 1.3k

genre : fluff(?) angst(?) quinn and reader have too many thoughts in their heads no warnings really

summary : you and quinn navigate the blurred lines of what you have going on, each secretly wondering if there’s more between you than just physical connection

quinn sat alone in his dark apartment, the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen the only sound cutting through the stillness. his phone rested in his palm, the soft glow from the screen illuminating his face as his thumb hovered over a single contact.

he didn’t know why he felt this way tonight. maybe it was the silence, or the ache that came with sitting in a space that no longer felt like home. his teammates had plans, the usual banter and beers, but he’d turned it down, muttering some halfhearted excuse. the truth was, he didn’t feel like being around anyone who’d ask too many questions.

no one except you.

are you up?

he hit send and dropped the phone onto the couch cushion beside him, holding his breath like he was waiting for something that might not come.

it was late—later than a reasonable hour to be texting someone you weren’t technically dating. “friends” didn’t fit either. friends didn’t hold each other the way you did when the lights were off. friends didn’t seek comfort in the warmth of someone else’s bed after long, lonely nights.

a few minutes passed. quinn exhaled, leaning back against the couch, and just as his phone buzzed, his heart jumped.

y/n : yeah, i’m up. you okay?

he hesitated for a moment, fingers ghosting over the screen. he didn’t want to say too much. this thing between you didn’t have boundaries, but it had unspoken rules. don’t ask too much. don’t admit too much. don’t be too honest.

can i come over?

the typing bubbles appeared and disappeared once, twice. he imagined you sitting there, curled up in the oversized sweater you liked to sleep in, weighing the pros and cons of letting him in. finally, your answer came.

y/n : yeah. door’s open

⋆˙⟡

when he showed up at your door, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, his hair damp from a quick shower, you couldn’t help but smile faintly. it was late—too late for casual hangouts—but you didn’t mind. you hadn’t been able to shake your own restlessness, and quinn’s presence felt like a solution to a problem neither of you had named.

“hey,” you said softly, stepping aside to let him in.

“hey.” he shrugged out of his jacket and toed off his sneakers. there was an easy familiarity to his movements, like he’d done this a hundred times before. and he had.

the two of you ended up on your couch, the same couch that had seen more than a few nights like this one. you handed him a glass of water, taking a sip from your own as you curled your legs beneath you. the silence was comfortable, but it felt heavier tonight, like something unsaid hung between you.

“you okay?” you asked eventually, looking at him through the soft glow of the lamp on your side table.

quinn glanced at you, the muscles in his jaw working like he was debating whether to tell the truth. “yeah. just didn’t feel like being alone tonight.”

your heart tugged at his honesty. “me either,” you admitted, your voice quiet.

that seemed to catch his attention. he turned to face you a little more, resting his arm along the back of the couch. “why’s that?”

you shrugged, swirling the water in your glass. “i don’t know. i think i get in my own head when it’s this quiet. makes me think about… things.”

“what kinds of things?”

“things i’m not sure i want to talk about.” you shot him a small, teasing smile to lighten the weight of the conversation. “what about you?”

he didn’t smile back—not fully. “probably the same.”

and just like that, the air between you changed. it wasn’t the usual easy companionship, the stolen moments of closeness that you had both become so used to. tonight felt different, and you weren’t sure how to handle that.

“do you ever think about…” quinn trailed off, his voice low and unsure.

“think about what?”

he shifted a little, looking at his hands. “where this is going. us, i mean.”

your heart skipped a beat. “quinn…”

“i’m not saying i want to mess this up,” he cut in quickly, like he needed to get the words out before he lost his nerve. “i just—i think about it sometimes. what it would be like if we tried to be more than… this.”

you stared at him, your pulse racing in your ears. this—whatever “this” was—had worked because it was easy. there were no strings, no expectations, just you and quinn finding comfort in each other when you needed it most. but now, he was opening a door you weren’t sure you were ready to walk through.

“do you want that?” you asked softly, carefully.

quinn ran a hand through his hair, letting out a long breath. “i don’t know. maybe. i just—” he looked at you then, really looked at you, and the honesty in his eyes made your chest ache. “i like being around you. not just like this. i like talking to you and… knowing you’re here. i don’t want to lose that.”

you swallowed, trying to ignore the way your throat tightened at his words. “i feel the same way,” you admitted.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

the two of you sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling between you. it was terrifying to admit what you were both feeling—to acknowledge that maybe this thing you had wasn’t as casual as you’d pretended it was.

quinn shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours as he leaned back into the couch. “you don’t have to answer right now. i just… i wanted you to know.”

you looked at him, at the way his brows furrowed in that familiar way they always did when he was thinking too hard about something. you’d seen him like this before—vulnerable and quiet—but tonight, it hit you differently. maybe because you felt the same way.

“okay,” you said softly, reaching out to place your hand on his arm. “thank you for telling me.”

he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as his shoulders relaxed slightly. then, you shifted closer, your body leaning gently against his. “you don’t have to leave tonight if you don’t want to.”

it wasn’t an offer you usually made. you didn’t stay. it was an unspoken rule. but something in the way you said it—soft, tentative—made quinn’s heart skip a beat.

“you sure?” he asked, searching your face.

you smiled faintly. “yeah. i think i’d like it if you stayed.”

quinn let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, a quiet “okay” falling from his lips. he shifted so his arm could wrap around your shoulders, pulling you close. your head rested against his chest, and for the first time in a long time, the silence didn’t feel so loud.

you stayed like that for a while—two lonely people finding solace in each other’s presence. quinn could feel himself relaxing, his eyes starting to drift shut as he breathed you in.

the admission hung in the air between the two of you, fragile but undeniable. quinn felt something shift inside him, like a door cracking open. maybe tonight wasn’t just another lonely night. maybe it was the start of something more.

you smiled—a real one this time, not the tired version you’d worn earlier—and settled back against his chest. he held you tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as his eyes slipped closed.

there was still so much left unsaid, but for now, this was enough. almost something, but not quite.

and maybe that was okay. for tonight.

© amourquinn

[tteotlma]

Trust in the Tension

--buried impulses flare into a fierce, unspoken surrender that no barrier can contain

"Nurse"!Logan x Patient!Reader (11.5kwc)

tw; 18+ MDNI; nsfw, power imbalance; caretaker/patient dynamic; dubcon (dubious consent); explicit sexual content; oral sex; choking; hair-pulling; biting; rough physicality; coarse language; mention of mental health struggles; tears/overwhelm.

a/n: PLS BE AWARE THIS IS A PIECE OF FICTION. (I AM DEEPLY AnD GRAVELY AWARE OF THE SEVERITY OF THIS SITUATION IRL BUT again THIS IS FICTION JUST HAVE FUN or skip.) i also didn't intend for this to be so long... but its been a month since my last fic

not edited entirely; pls like & reblog

Your vision pulsed to the sound of your heartbeat as you took in the scene around you.

You hadn’t asked to be here. 

The facility was nice— too nice. Plush furniture, warm neutral tones, windows big enough to let in the light but so obviously locked for safety. Despite the place feeling more like a high-end retreat, than a mental health facility that didn’t stop the feel of the walls caving in. 

Still in an unknowing state of shock you sat stiffly in the common room, arms crossed, back rigid, posture so straight it was almost defiant. It wasn’t lost on you that you were the only one not participating in whatever exercise the group facilitator had planned. 

You clenched your jaw as you stared straight ahead at the painting of random splatters on the far wall, the rest of the people fading away in the background. The painting, an aggressive array of white, red, and black splatters meticulously painted to convey some sort of emotion provided you a great sense of comfort. You couldn’t put your finger on what that feeling was but you could feel it— deep in the pit of your stomach. You felt the facilitator's eyes on you, but you ignored it trying to wrap your head around how you got here in the first place. 

It wasn’t voluntary, that's for sure. No, you were here because your parents begged, pleaded, and finally pulled out the we’re worried about you, sweetheart card. They’d finally worn you down, leaving you too exhausted to fight. 

Not that exhaustion was new to you. 

Professional Burnout was the sanitized phrase they’d slapped onto your file. As if snapping at a coworker who spent months undermining you somehow made you unstable. As if the outburst wasn’t deserved. 

One crack, you thought bitterly, and suddenly I’m the problem. 

The sound of heavy footsteps interrupted your brooding. You glanced up just in time to see a man step into the room, a clipboard in hand and a toothpick hanging lazily from his mouth. He was tall and rugged, with broad shoulders that stretched his uniform and thick sideburns that framed his jaw. He looked like he belonged anywhere but here—on a construction site, maybe, or some smoky dive bar.

His eyes caught yours, sharp and assessing. You didn’t look away, narrowing your gaze in return.

He stood there for a moment, the toothpick rolling between his teeth, sizing you up like he’d already figured you out. You hated it.

“Logan,” he said, finally breaking the silence. His voice was deep and gravelly, with a rough edge that matched his rugged appearance. He tapped the clipboard against his thigh, tilting his head slightly. “You got a name, or are we just gonna keep starin’ at each other?”

“Why do you care?” you shot back, folding your arms tighter across your chest.

His lips quirked, just barely. “Keeps things polite. But hey, if you’d rather I call you ‘sunshine,’ that works too.”

You glared at him. “It’s [Y/N].” 

“[Y/N],” he repeated, his tone deliberate, like he was committing it to memory. “Alright then, [Y/N]. Here’s the deal. I’m the orderly assigned to keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t go stir-crazy or claw anyone’s eyes out.”

You scoffed. “Charming.”

“Thanks,” he said, completely unfazed. “Let’s try something new—how about you actually join the group? Sitting there like a statue ain’t doin’ you any favors.”

“I’m fine right here,” you replied flatly, eyes drifting back to the splatter painting.

“Fine,” he echoed, his tone dripping with skepticism. “You keep tellin’ yourself that.”

He stepped closer, his boots heavy against the tiled floor. The closer he got, the more imposing he seemed, like he took up all the air in the room. “But here’s the thing, sweetheart. You can act all tough and keep everyone at arm’s length, but it doesn’t make the time go by any faster.”

You finally looked up at him, bristling at the way he loomed over you, like he was daring you to challenge him. “What’s your point?”

“My point,” he said, leaning in just enough to lower his voice, “is that I’ve seen plenty of people like you. Wound so tight you’re about to snap. Keep it up, and you’ll be stuck here a hell of a lot longer than you need to be.”

Your hands curled into fists, nails digging into your palms. “Maybe I like my space.”

His grin was infuriatingly small, almost imperceptible. “Sure you do. Let me know how that works out for you.”

And just like that, he turned and walked off, leaving you fuming. You weren’t sure if you wanted to yell at him or sink deeper into the chair just to spite him. Either way, you had the distinct feeling that Logan wasn’t going to make this easy for you.

—

Later that day you found yourself sitting in another goddamn plush leather seat. You sat stiffly in the chair, arms crossed and jaw tight as Logan settled into the seat across from you. He had the same clipboard as earlier, only now he looked far more official—still rugged and casual in demeanor, but with a sharpness in his gaze that said he wasn’t here to play around. 

“Alright (Y/N),” he started, clicking his pen. “This is just a standard intake. I know you did it before coming here, I just gotta get some background myself, so we know how to help you.” 

“Help me,” you muttered under your breath, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Logan raised a brow but didn’t take the bait. “First question: How are you feeling?”

You scoffed, leaning back in the chair. “Fantastic. Couldn’t be better.”

“Uh-huh,” he replied dryly, jotting something down on the clipboard. “We’ll circle back to that. What about your usual stress levels? On a scale of one to ten?”

“Zero.”

He glanced up, his expression unreadable. “And what do you usually do to blow off steam?”

The question caught you off guard. You hesitated, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Work. Run. Avoid people.”

Logan hummed thoughtfully, tapping his pen against the clipboard. “Not exactly workin’ out for you, is it?”

Your glare could’ve cut glass. “What’s your point?”

“No point,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was fighting a smirk. “Just gettin’ to know you.”

He finished scribbling and set the clipboard aside, leaning forward slightly. “Last question. You think you belong here?”

You faltered, his sudden intensity throwing you off balance. “What does it matter what I think? I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But if you’re gonna be here, might as well make it worth somethin’. Otherwise, you’re just wastin’ your own damn time.”

The weight of his words hung in the air as he stood, gathering his clipboard and pen. “That’s it for now. I’ll see you around, sunshine.”

As he walked out, you couldn’t help but feel like Logan saw more of you in that brief exchange than most people ever did—and it unnerved you.

—

You felt the weight of Logan’s questions long after the session ended. Sure they were simple questions but it’s not like it wasn’t anything he couldn’t look up himself if he tried. The way his eyes had fixed on you, intense and unyielding, had unsettled you more than you cared to admit. You tried to shake it off, but it lingered like a bad taste, gnawing at the back of your mind. 

When you walked back to the common room, the group session was finally finishing up. Everyone slowly filtered out, but you stayed behind. You didn’t want to be around people—didn’t want anyone to see how much you were clenching your fists or how your jaw was tight enough to bruise. 

Sitting back down in your (un)claimed seat, you crossed your arms over your chest and leaned back to stare at the painting on the far wall. Your mind kept drifting back to Logan’s words, his calm, almost knowing demeanor. You hated how easily he had gotten under your skin. 

It wasn’t just the questions. It was the way he looked at you, like he understood everything without you saying a word. You didn’t want to think about that, either.

You stood abruptly, deciding a walk through the facility might clear your head. But when you stepped into the hallway, you saw Logan leaning against the doorframe to the lounge, a smirk barely hidden behind his usual indifference.

“Lost?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

You didn’t answer, trying to walk past him. You didn’t need another interaction, especially with him. But he moved just enough to block your path.

“You think you’re just gonna keep brushing me off, huh?” he said, voice low and amused.

“You really love to push buttons, don’t you?” You didn’t bother hiding the irritation in your voice.

His grin widened, but he didn’t press you further. Instead, his gaze softened, almost unreadable. “I don’t push buttons. I just call it like I see it.”

You glared at him, biting back a retort. But when he finally stepped aside, giving you space to walk past him, you couldn’t help but feel a weird mix of relief and frustration. 

—

The next time you saw Logan, it was in another session. Group therapy again. You’d kept your distance as much as possible, staying silent while the others participated. You weren’t interested in talking about your feelings—not to strangers and definitely not to Logan.

As the facilitator guided the group through an exercise, you sat stiffly, arms seemingly permanent crossed. You tried to block out everything and everyone, focusing on the wall in front of you. 

You were here, just like your parents had wanted. That should be enough. 

Logan had been observing you quietly, and when the session ended, he was the first one to walk over.

“You gonna keep that scowl on your face all day, or are you gonna get over yourself?” His voice was sharp, but there was an edge of concern underneath, like he was watching you closely.

You didn’t want to feel anything anymore, didn’t want to stay caught up in the mess of emotions or the frustration building inside you. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t believe you, and you could see it in his eyes. “You sure about that?”

Before you could snap back, the door to the group room swung open, and the others filed out. Logan stepped closer, his presence so commanding that you felt the air grow heavier around you.

“Why don’t we step outside for a second?” he suggested, his voice low and steady, like he was trying to coax you into something you didn’t want.

You glared up at him. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

But something in his eyes—some unspoken understanding—made you pause. Against your better judgment, you followed him out into the hallway.

Once the two of you were out of earshot from the others, Logan stopped and turned to face you. The air between you was thick, charged with something you couldn’t name.

“You’re acting like a kid,” he said bluntly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah? Well, maybe I’m just tired of pretending I’m fine when I’m not,” you shot back, your voice sharp and biting. The frustration you’d been holding in for days boiled to the surface, your words barely contained.

Logan’s gaze softened, but there was no judgment in his eyes. He was too used to dealing with people like you. “Yeah, I figured. You’ve got a lot of tension in you, huh?” His eyes trailed the length of your body. 

You didn’t respond, the anger started to bubble up again, your hands clenched at your side but something about his steady presence seemed to disarm you. Maybe it was the way he didn’t back off, didn’t try to force anything.

He only took a step closer, and for the first time, you didn’t flinch. His hand moved to your shoulder, the touch firm but gentle.

“I’m not here to push you, [Y/N],” he said, his voice low. “But you gotta know—holding all that in? It’s gonna eat you up.”

You sucked in a breath, trying to control the wave of frustration that threatened to overwhelm you. “I don’t need advice,” you muttered, feeling vulnerable in a way you hated.

“I don’t need advice,” you repeated, except the words coming out sharp, and defensive this time. You hated the way your chest felt tight, the vulnerability creeping in from where Logan’s hand rested on your shoulder. 

The warmth from his touch spread across your skin, and for a moment, it felt like it was sinking into your bones, grounding you in a way that made your stomach twist. You didn’t need anyone grounding you. You didn’t need him to make you feel this way.

Logan’s eyes softened just a fraction, but his expression remained steady, like he was waiting for you to crack. “You sure about that?” he asked again quietly, his tone almost too calm.

You felt it then, the tension pooling inside you, the anger at yourself for even considering his words. You were independent. You didn’t need anyone to fix you. You hadn’t needed anyone before to figure things out. And you especially, didn’t need some wannabe shrink to start telling you how to manage your life.

Without thinking, you grabbed his hand and removed it from your shoulder. You did it quickly, as if his touch burned you, trying to ignore the way his heat lingered on your skin. You told yourself it was about reclaiming your space, but deep down, you couldn’t deny the way you resented the way his warmth had made you feel—like you weren’t enough on your own, like you needed him, and it made you bitter.

You didn’t meet his eyes as you moved away. The weight of his gaze felt like too much, like he could see right through you. “I’m fine,” you muttered for what seemed like the umpteenth time, turning away before he could say anything more, before you could let him see how much you were feeling.

Each step you took away from him was deliberate, quick. You weren’t going to let him break you down, weren’t going to let him see how much you wanted the relief he might even be able to offer. You didn’t need him. You’d never needed anyone, not like that.

The hallway stretched out in front of you, a quiet reminder that you could handle this—you could handle this.

—

The next few days passed in a haze. Every session, every group exercise felt like you were just going through the motions, barely containing the storm brewing inside you. You could still feel Logan’s hand on your shoulder, the way it had made you feel both furious and small, and it gnawed at you. You told yourself you were fine, but the anger lingered, thick like smoke in your lungs.

You were sitting in the group room again, the usual chatter around you fading into white noise. Your focus was elsewhere—just trying to survive the hour without having to say a word. You were about to tune out completely when you heard it.

“She’s just another fucking drama queen.”

The voice came from across the room, a low murmur between two of the other patients. You didn’t need to hear more. You already knew they were talking about you. The words were sharp, cutting through the air with a venom that dug deep into you.

You snapped your gaze in their direction, fury immediately surging through you. The mocking tone, the casual dismissal—it was too familiar, too reminiscent of the shit you’d put up with at your last job. You could feel the rage flooding your chest, hot and suffocating. It was a sensation you knew too well, one that had always pushed you to the edge before.

And now, it was back.

The room started to shrink around you. The noise of their laughter, the snickers, the sideways glances—all of it evaporated as your anger took over. Your fists clenched so tightly your nails dug into your palms.

You didn’t care anymore. You needed to make it stop. You needed to hit something. You tried grounding yourself, but it was too late. Your body had already taken over. Your legs were pushing you forward, jumping over your seat in a split-second decision. You saw red, your entire body screaming for release, for someone to just stop dismissing you. But before you could close the distance, a firm hand shot out, grabbing you mid-air.

“Hey!” Logan’s voice cut through the chaos in your mind—or in the room, it was hard to tell—his voice sharp and commanding.

You felt his strong arms wrap around your waist—hard, like steel, pulling you back. You let out a shout of frustration, trying to twist free, but Logan’s grip didn’t falter. It was like he was two steps ahead, as if he had already anticipated your move, as if he knew exactly what was about to happen. His voice was in your ear now, low and unwavering.

“[Y/N], enough,” he said, his tone hard but not cruel. “This isn’t the way.”

Before you could even process what was happening, Logan yanked you backwards with a force that left you no room to fight it. In an instant, he’d pulled you out of the room, dragging you down the hallway with such speed that no one could have comprehended what just happened. There was a stunned silence behind you as you were pulled out of the room, your feet barely touching the ground as Logan kept a firm hold, his steps echoing through the hallway.

“Let me go!” You tried to struggle, to twist your way free, but his grip tightened, holding you firmly as he pushed you further from the group.

“No,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Not until you calm down.”

You were breathing hard, the adrenaline coursing through you. Your pulse was a drum in your ears, and you could feel the heat of your anger radiating off you in waves.

“I don’t need you to babysit me,” you spat, still trying to break free. “I don’t need your fucking help!”

You tried to tear his arm away, but Logan’s grip tightened, his body pressing into yours as he moved with precision, dragging you down the hallway without a word. The moment you realized what was happening, the reality of it hit you like a punch to the gut. Your anger, your rage—it all crashed down as you found yourself being physically restrained, the helplessness burning in your chest.

He didn’t say a word as he pulled you down another hall, his face impassive, but you could feel the tension in his body as if he was just as ready to snap as you had been moments ago. But he wasn’t letting you. He wasn’t letting you lose control.

“Let me go!” you snarled, struggling against his grip, but again, Logan didn’t even flinch. He kept moving, keeping you contained, his presence too overwhelming for you to break free from.

When he finally stopped, it was in a hallway, somewhere far enough from anybody that no one would hear you—no one would witness how you’d almost cracked. He barely released his hold on you, but not before pushing you back against the wall, his body still towering over you, blocking your every escape route.

“Take a breath,” he said, his voice low and steady, like he was speaking to someone who might break apart at any second.

His grip on your arm softened, but only just enough for you to feel the tension in his hand. He wasn’t letting go, but he was giving you space to breathe, to calm down if you could.

“You’re better than this. So stop acting like a fucking fool, [Y/N].” He said, his voice lower now, almost like a warning.

Your chest was still heaving, your body still tense with frustration, but hearing him say that—hearing him treat you like more than just a hothead, like you were capable of something better—suddenly made it all feel worse. The tears you’d been holding back started to burn at the back of your eyes, and you hated yourself for it. Hated that you felt so weak, so fucking out of control.

But Logan wasn’t looking at you like you were broken. He wasn’t judging you, even though you knew you deserved it. He was just… there. Silent. Waiting.

You wrenched yourself out of his grip (despite both your dismay) and took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to regain some composure.

“Just… don’t touch me,” you muttered, your voice raw and unsteady.

Logan said nothing. He didn’t have to. The silence between you was thick with something unspoken, something neither of you could easily put into words.

But it didn’t matter. You couldn’t let it matter. Not now.

You turned and walked away, not looking back. 

You barely took a few steps before the frustration began to bubble up again. You had only just started to walk away from Logan, but the moment you stepped around the corner and out of sight, it felt like the world was pressing in on you again.

The laughter from the group still rang in your ears. “Drama queen.” The words clawed at your skin, digging into you like a constant reminder of everything you hated—being dismissed, being belittled.

You were done. You couldn’t keep holding it in. Your fists clenched, nails digging into your palms as you spun on your heel, slamming your hand against the wall. The sharp sound of your palm against the cold surface echoed in the hallway, but it wasn’t enough. The rage, the helplessness—it was all too much.

“Fuck!” you hissed, breath coming in sharp bursts as you stared at the spot where your hand had just struck the wall, feeling the dull sting radiating through your knuckles. 

You couldn’t keep it together anymore. It was too much. You were tired of being on the edge, of trying so damn hard to be perfect at everything—at work, at life, at keeping it all together. Everyone depended on you to do everything. Always being there, and put together.

But right now? You didn’t want to be. You didn’t want to hold it in anymore. Your body was shaking with the weight of it all—the frustration of being forced to be something that was overwhelming, the anger at yourself for letting it all pile up until you exploded.

You wanted to break. You wanted to let go—but you knew you couldn’t. You couldn’t afford to. You’d kept it locked away for so long, keeping everything in check, trying to make sure no one saw the truth behind the mask. Who knew what would happen if you let yourself slip away, even just a smidge. You were already forced to be somewhere you didn’t want to be, you couldn’t risk losing anything else. But the anger… the helplessness… It was too much. You were suffocating, and you couldn’t breathe anymore.

And that’s when it hit you: This is why you were here.

You couldn’t handle it. You couldn’t keep pretending that you had it all together. You were falling apart at the seams, and the pressure—the pressure of trying to control everything—was finally breaking you.

You spun around, not knowing what you were doing, just feeling the surge of emotions all crashing in. You needed to hit something again, harder. You needed to feel something, anything, that would make it stop. But before you could even move an inch, a voice cut through the chaotic storm inside your mind.

“[Y/N]?”

It was Logan.

You didn’t even turn to look at him. You didn’t want him to see you like this. Hell, you didn’t even want to see yourself like this.

“Leave me the fuck alone,” you snarled, voice hoarse as the tears welled up, but you fought them back. Not yet. Not here. Not now.

But Logan was already there. In an instant, his hands were on you, trying to turn you, pulling you against him, his arms firm and unyielding. You tried to twist, to pull away, but his grip was too strong. And it wasn’t that you didn’t want to break—because you did.

But you couldn’t let him see it. You couldn’t let anyone see how much you were falling apart. You were so fucking tired of pretending to be fine, you were ready to break but not in front of him.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Logan tried to pacify your struggles, as his hold on you failed to waver. It wasn’t like before. It wasn’t about controlling you. His presence was heavy—comforting in a way you hadn’t let yourself experience in so long.

The tears came the more you struggled in his grip, despite all your efforts. Hot and fast, they burned your face, dripping onto the linoleum floor, and there was nothing you could do to stop them. You wanted to stop them. You hated it. You hated feeling this weak.

But Logan just held you as your body went slack. His grip tightened, pulling you into him. Not to silence you, not to force you to do anything, but to hold you steady, to keep you from falling completely apart.

“I told you not to touch me,” you choked out through the tears, voice breaking as you finally let yourself give into him, your body shuddering against his. You were shaking—not just with the anger anymore, but with the helplessness that had been buried so deep.

You tried once more to push him away, weakly, but it was like fighting against a wall. His chest was too solid. His presence was too overwhelming. You didn’t want to feel it. You didn’t want him to see the cracks.

But there was no escaping it now. The reality of everything you’d been holding inside came rushing at you, and it hurt. It hurt more than you could even process.

Logan didn’t speak. He didn’t try to fix anything. He just let you break in silence. His arms around you were steady, not demanding. They didn’t try to pull you back from the edge. They simply were. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself breathe as you were.

When he finally loosened his grip and you finally pulled yourself away from him, still sniffling, you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes. You couldn’t look at him like this.

“Please, don’t touch me anymore,” you muttered, voice shaky, and with that, you turned away, your feet dragging as you walked down the hall. You didn’t look back. Not once.

But you knew, in that moment, something had shifted between you. Something in you had cracked.

And Logan knew it too. He didn’t stop you this time. He didn’t chase you. He just let you go.

The silence in the hallway hung heavy in the air after you walked away. Logan stood there for a long moment, the weight of the last few minutes settling over him. He hadn’t expected the tears, the rawness that tore through you, but the way you’d fought it all—fought him—made something click in his mind.

He didn’t follow you. He didn’t try to force anything. Instead, he gave you space. Because deep down, he understood.

He didn’t move from where he stood immediately. He wanted to give you time. You needed it. Needed to process it all.

When he finally did move, it was slow. The hallway was too quiet now, too empty. His hand rested on the wall, his mind replaying the moments that had just passed, trying to piece everything together. What did you need? He hadn’t known before, but now? Now, something was different.

—

It had been a few days since you’d broken down in the hallway. Logan hadn’t pushed you since, letting you process things on your own, but he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. About you. About the way you’d finally let your guard down, even if just for a moment, before retreating again. He’d stayed close but careful, offering support in quiet ways, waiting for you to let him in.

You walked into your room, your steps slow, your mind racing. As you sat on the edge of your bed, you couldn’t stop the image of Logan holding you from replaying over and over in your head. The warmth of his embrace still lingered on your skin, even though you had pushed him away.

A soft knock at your door interrupted your thoughts.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. You knew who it was but, if you looked at him again, you weren’t sure you could hold it together. You needed space. You needed time.

Another knock. A little louder this time.

You dragged a shaky breath into your lungs, wiping your face with the back of your hand. You hated this—hated the fragility of it all. But the pressure inside you hadn’t subsided. You could feel the ache in your chest, the pull to break again.

“[Y/N]?” Logan’s voice came through the door, low, steady. “Can I come in?”

You stayed quiet. You wanted to tell him to leave you alone. You wanted to shut him out. But you couldn’t. You knew deep down you didn’t want him to go away. Not now. Not after everything.

The door creaked open slowly, and Logan stepped inside, his eyes cautious. He didn’t push, didn’t say anything. His presence was still heavy, but it wasn’t demanding. The door shut behind him with a soft thud, followed by a small discernible click. 

He didn’t ask if you were okay. He didn’t offer any words of comfort. He just watched you, letting the silence hang between you. You felt the familiar heat rising in your chest, the uncomfortable feeling of being seen too clearly, but this time, it wasn’t like before. He wasn’t trying to fix you.

You could feel the distance between you. He was there, but he wasn’t pushing.

He shifted, taking a step closer, but not too close. It was a subtle offer, a quiet invitation.

The silence stretched between you like a taut string, every breath you took loud in the otherwise still room. Logan didn’t rush you. He just stood there, his hands loose at his sides, his presence calm, steady, like an anchor in the storm of your thoughts.

“I thought I told you to leave,” you said, your voice wavering despite the steel you tried to inject into it.

His lips twitched, a barely-there smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You didn’t say a word, sunshine. Just figured you might need someone who’ll stick around—Help take care of you.”

You hated how much his words hit the mark, hated how the rawness inside you stirred at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he was right.

Logan took another step closer, his boots soft against the floor. The click of the lock earlier seemed louder now, echoing in your mind.

“You’re my nurse,” you whispered, like a warning, but your words lacked conviction.

“I am,” he agreed, his voice low but even. “And that means takin’ care of you, even if you fight me on it. Especially if you fight me on it.” The tone in his voice emphasizing the last part—as if the fight you put up brings a rush to his blood. 

You scoffed, your instinct to push him away rearing its head. “This feels like more than taking care of a patient.”

His gaze softened, but it didn’t waver. “Maybe. But does it matter? You’re not by yourself anymore—not in here. You don’t have to keep pretending you’re fine when you’re not. Let me help you.”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words sinking in. He saw too much, and yet, you didn’t feel the urge to run. You felt… understood. The wall you’d built around yourself since arriving finally cracked, just enough for his steady gaze to slip through.

“You don’t get it,” you muttered, shaking your head, your hands clenching the edge of the bed. “I’ve always had to hold it together. Always. If I let go—” Your voice broke, a sharp crack in the stillness.

“You won’t fall apart,” Logan interrupted, his tone firm but not harsh. He crouched down in front of you, his hands resting on his knees, his body just close enough to block out everything else. “You’ve been doin’ this on your own for too long. Let someone else shoulder some of it.”

His hand lifted slowly, giving you time to pull away, but you didn’t. His fingers brushed against yours where they gripped the edge of the mattress, the warmth of his touch grounding you.

“Logan…” Your voice trembled, a mix of warning and plea.

“I’m here,” he murmured. “Just let me help.”

You closed your eyes, trying to pull yourself together, but the heat radiating from him was impossible to ignore. The way his thumb traced over your knuckles was gentle, but there was an unspoken promise in his touch.

He shifted closer, his legs brushing against yours now. The tension in the air thickened, your pulse quickening as his steady gaze roamed your face. There was something in his expression—something deeper than concern. His job might have brought him here, but the way he looked at you was anything but professional.

“Logan,” you said again, this time softer, your voice barely a whisper.

He leaned in slightly, the rough edge of his voice brushing against your skin. “Let me in, sunshine. Just this once.”

Your walls wavered, the vulnerability threatening to spill over. The ache in your chest was unbearable, the pull to let go stronger than your fear. He wasn’t just offering to help; he was offering himself.

Your breathing grew shallow as his hand slid up, his fingers curling lightly around your wrist, pulling your hand away from the bed and into his. You opened your eyes as you let him guide you, avoiding all chances to truly look him in the eyes, his movements slow, and deliberate, until your hand rested against his chest.

He shifted and his other hand found your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a slow, grounding motion. “Let me take care of you. All you’ve gotta do is trust me, sunshine.”

Your lips parted, words caught in your throat as his thumb slid lower, grazing your bottom lip. You froze, your mind racing, but Logan didn’t push further—he just waited, his touch firm but patient.

The shift was subtle, but it was there—the change in the air between you. He wasn’t just offering comfort anymore. He was asking for surrender, for trust in the most intimate way.

And God help you, you were ready to give it to him anything he asked for. 

The tension between you crackled, thick and electric, but his touch remained steady, grounding. Logan’s thumb brushed the curve of your cheek, slow and deliberate, before tracing the edge of your jaw. His movements weren’t hurried—there was no rush, no demand—just an unspoken invitation.

“See?” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, like he was coaxing you down from a ledge. “Ain’t so hard to let someone else take the reins for a bit, is it?”

Your breath hitched as his fingers trailed down, brushing the side of your neck. The warmth of his palm lingered, the weight of his hand firm enough to quiet the chaotic swirl in your mind, but not enough to drown out the muffled sounds of people passing by your door.

“I… I don’t know how,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

Logan huffed a soft laugh, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Yeah, you do. You’re already doing it.”

His fingers shifted, sliding to the back of your neck, and you leaned into the touch before you could stop yourself. He drew you closer, just enough to feel his presence envelop you entirely. Your knees brushed against his thighs where he stood in front of you, and the heat radiating off him was impossible to ignore.

“Relax that jaw of yours,” he said, his tone still light but with a teasing edge. After caressing the nape of your neck his hand comes back to your jaw and squeezes until your lips part.  “You’ve been clenching it so tight, it’s a wonder it hasn’t locked up yet.”

You blinked at him, caught between embarrassment and curiosity. His eyes, dark and steady, met yours, and for a moment, you swore he could see straight through you.

“C’mere,” he murmured, tugging gently on your wrist until you slid closer towards him.

The shift brought your bodies even nearer, his hands bracketing your thighs now, his thumbs brushing circles over the fabric of your pants. His touch was careful but deliberate, testing your boundaries while coaxing you further out of your shell.

“Let me take the lead,” he said softly, his voice dipping lower, more intimate.

You swallowed hard, feeling the ache in your chest ease as something entirely new unfurled in its place. Trust. Need. A quiet kind of surrender you didn’t know you were capable of.

“How?” you finally gave in and asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s lips quirked into a small smirk, but his gaze stayed steady, unwavering. “Like I said… starting with that jaw.”

His hand moved, knuckles grazing your chin as his thumb pressed gently against the corner of your mouth. The motion was slow, teasing, giving you plenty of time to pull back. You didn’t.

“Open up for me,” he murmured, his words a low rumble that sent a shiver racing down your spine.

The command was quiet, laced with care, but the underlying edge of authority had your pulse spiking. Your lips parted instinctively, your breath shaky as his thumb slid along the inside of your bottom lip.

“Good girl,” he murmured, the praise slipping out like it belonged there.

The words hit you harder than you wanted to admit, warmth pooling in your chest—and lower.

Logan shifted closer, his other hand steadying your jaw as he studied you, his expression unreadable but intent. “We’ll take it slow,” he said, his thumb retreating as he brought his hand to the hem of his pants. “Just let me guide you.”

Your breathing hitched as your eyes flicked down to his hands, the way his fingers deftly worked the knot of his drawstring pants. The quiet rustle of the fabric filled the space between you, a sound that felt louder than it was.

Logan’s movements were deliberate, unhurried, as though he was waiting for any sign of hesitation from you. When your gaze lifted to meet his, you saw no rush, no impatience—just the same steady calm that made it impossible not to trust him.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he murmured, his voice grounding you even as it sent your pulse racing.

You swallowed hard, your jaw relaxing further at his words, at the way his presence seemed to envelop you completely. His hand returned to your chin, tilting your head up slightly, his thumb brushing against your skin.

“Atta girl,” Logan praised softly, his lips curving into a faint smile, as his thumb caressed your skin. “That’s it. Just breathe for me.”

The tension that had coiled so tightly in your chest loosened a fraction as you exhaled shakily. His fingers traced along your jawline, the touch soothing and deliberate, coaxing you to focus on him and nothing else.

When his drawstrings tangled free, Logan leaned in closer, his free hand bracing against the edge of the bed beside you. His proximity was overwhelming in the best way, his warmth and scent filling your senses.

“This ain’t just about me, sunshine,” he said, his voice low and sure. He takes one hand, and brings it to your neck. His thumb finds the pulse point beneath your jaw and he brings you in closer. “This is about you learning to let go. To stop holdin’ on so tight it hurts.”

You nodded faintly, swallowing against his palm, your body responding before your mind could catch up. There was no space for second-guessing, no time for overthinking—not with the way Logan looked at you, like he already knew exactly what you needed.

“Good,” he murmured again, his tone like gravel smoothed by honey. “We’ll go slow, but I need you to trust me.” He nuzzled the side of your head, his breath tickling your skin as he slowly let go of your throat. 

Logan’s hands moved, sliding down to catch yours. His touch was firm but not forceful, the rough calluses on his palm grounding you as he pulled your hands away from your lap. He brought them up, pressing them flat against his chest.

“Feel that?” he asked, his voice low and steady as your fingers splayed over his warm skin through his shirt. His familiar heartbeat thrummed steadily beneath your touch, grounding you, centering you. “That’s all you gotta focus on. Just me. Nothing else matters right now.”

You nodded faintly, the tension in your shoulders coming to a still as he kept your hands there for a moment, letting you adjust.  Suddenly, a loud slam down the hallway caused you to jump and turn towards the door. He quickly grabbed your chin forcing you to look at him. “What did I just say?” He quirked, all you could do was look at him, heat blooming from your neck up. 

Then, slowly once he made sure you weren’t looking away, he began guiding your hands downward.

The motion was deliberate, unhurried, as though every inch was a silent reassurance that you could stop at any time. His hands covered yours, his thumbs brushing the backs of your knuckles as he slid your palms down the planes of his torso, over the firm muscle beneath his shirt, until they rested against his hips.

Logan gave you a beat to take it in, his gaze locked on yours. His breathing was measured, but you could see the faintest flicker of tension in his jaw, the restraint he was holding onto so tightly.

“Still good?” he asked, his voice dropping lower, rougher now.

“Yes,” you murmured, barely trusting your voice as heat pooled low in your belly. You unconsciously squirmed, in anticipation, in heat who knew.  

Logan nodded, his lips twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile but carried the same weight of approval. He waited, giving you one last chance to back out before guiding your thumbs to join his, beneath the elastic of his scrub pants.

“Easy,” he murmured, the word a quiet reminder as he guided your hands to push the fabric down slowly, exposing more of his skin. The sliver of skin burned against your fingers as you ghosted them along his body. His abdomen tensed under your touch, his breathing shifting slightly as he exhaled through his nose.

Logan let the pants hang low on his hips, one hand trailing up to cup your jaw again, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. “We’ll go nice and slow,” he said, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth again. “No rush, sunshine. Just follow my lead.”

With that, he took your hands again, guiding them lower until they brushed the waistband of his boxers. His movements were steady, deliberate, as though showing you exactly where he wanted you without rushing you.

“You feelin’ brave?” he teased softly, the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, though his eyes held nothing but warmth and patience.

You nodded again scooching closer to the edge of the bed, and the brink of insanity, your chest tightening with anticipation. His smirk deepened, and he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“Then show me, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Let me see what you can do.”

Logan eased back slightly, just enough to give you room to move, but his hand lingered on yours, a steadying presence as he guided your touch. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his waistband, and with a deep breath, you pushed the material down further, revealing more of him inch by inch.

The air between you grew heavier, the tension palpable as his arousal became impossible to ignore. Logan’s hand left yours, but only for a moment, trailing up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face before cupping the back of your neck.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart.” he murmured, his voice warm and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. His thumb traced lazy circles at the base of your skull, grounding you as his other hand rested atop your forearm, giving you control but silently encouraging you to keep going.

You shifted slightly, your hands trembling as they moved to rest on his hips again. Logan watched you closely, his gaze steady but dark with something you couldn’t quite name. His chest rose and fell in a slow, measured rhythm, as though he were holding himself back, letting you set the pace.

When your hands brushed the bare skin of his hips, Logan inhaled a shaky breath, a faint sound escaping him that made your pulse spike. He leaned in, his lips ghosting over your temple as he murmured, “Don’t overthink it. Just take what you can, sunshine. I’ll guide you through the rest.”

Your fingers curled into his skin as you leaned forward, your breath brushing against his lower abdomen. Logan’s hand slid from your neck to your shoulder, a subtle but firm anchor as he shifted slightly, giving you better access.

“Atta girl,” he praised, his voice barely above a whisper. The words sent a wave of warmth through you, and you felt your hesitation ease, replaced by a quiet resolve to follow his lead.

Logan’s hand moved again, this time to rest over yours as he guided one of them lower. He didn’t stop until you were cradling the solid weight of him. Your touch lightly teasing the ache that pulsed beneath your trembling hand. Logan guided your hand to palm the rigid heat beneath his clothes,  wrapping your fingers around him. A sharp inhale escaped his lips, and you felt the faintest tremor in his muscles as your touch sent a jolt through him. 

“Slow,” he reminded you, his voice tight but still soft. “Just like that.” 

The tension between you was thick enough to cut with a knife, every shift of his body, every measured breath, drawing you further into the moment. Your fingers trembled as they traced the contours of his arousal, the fabric of his boxers doing little to disguise the heat and weight beneath. Logan’s grip on your shoulder tightened slightly, not in impatience but as a subtle reassurance, his silent way of telling you that you were doing exactly what he wanted.

His hips shifted just barely, an almost involuntary reaction to the way your hand brushed against him. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp that sent a shiver down your spine. His thumb traced another soothing circle at the base of your neck, the grounding motion a stark contrast to the fire building between you. “You’ve got me, sunshine. Just keep going.”

Emboldened by his words, you pressed a little firmer, your palm smoothing over the outline of him, taking your time to explore every inch. The way he exhaled sharply, the muscles in his abdomen tensing beneath your other hand, made you feel a surge of confidence. You dared to glance up at him, and what you saw made your breath catch. His head was tilted back slightly, his jaw tight, the faintest flush coloring his cheeks. His eyes, though darkened with desire, never left yours, his focus sharp and unwavering.

“You’re taking  your time, huh?” he teased, his smirk returning, though it was tinged with a rawness that made your chest tighten. “Not that I’m complaining.”

You swallowed hard, your hand faltering for just a moment before finding its rhythm again. His reaction—the way his body leaned into your touch, the low sound he made in the back of his throat—was intoxicating. It spurred you on, your fingers brushing the waistband of his boxers again before slipping just beneath, your fingertips meeting bare skin.

You felt him twitch ever so slightly, and your cheeks twinged with excitement. There was something happening inside of you that you weren’t quite sure what to think of it. You knew what Logan was doing would’ve been demeaning as hell anywhere else, but here, now… all you wanted to do was give in, succumb to whatever it was he wanted you to do. He asked you to trust him, and so far he hasn’t shown you a reason not to. 

Your heart thudded in your chest as the realization hit you: you wanted this. More than anything, you wanted to give yourself over to him, to see what it felt like to let someone else carry the weight for once. If his touch—barely there—was enough to leave you trembling, what else could he make you feel? What more could he show you?

The thought sent a rush of heat through you, your breath quickening as your fingers finally curled around the rigid, throbbing length of him, pressing more firmly against his strained need. Logan’s soft groan rumbled through the air, stirring something deep in your chest—a quiet, unfamiliar hunger that threatened to consume you. You let yourself sink into it, letting the weight of the moment guide your movements, every brush of your touch unraveling a part of you you didn’t know existed. 

“Good,” Logan murmured, his voice warm and gravelly, the rough edge of it sending a shiver down your spine. “Just like that, sunshine. You’re doin’ perfect.”

You inched closer to the edge of the bed, the pull to be nearer to him overwhelming, almost instinctual. Kneeling now, you practically sank toward the floor, chasing the heat radiating from his body like you couldn’t bear the space between you.

Logan shifted, and before you could fully close the distance, he was pulling back. The loss of contact jarred you, a quiet whine of protest nearly escaping before you caught yourself. His hand came to rest on your shoulder, firm but gentle, stopping you in your tracks.

“Here,” he said, his voice low and steady. In one smooth motion, he grabbed a pillow and tossed it to the ground between the two of you, the soft thud breaking the tension for only a split second.

Your gaze snapped up to meet his, eyes wide, blown out with something you couldn’t quite name—but it was there, raw and undeniable. The way he’d stopped you, how casually he’d thrown the pillow down, like he knew exactly what you needed before you did—your chest tightened, and your jaw slackened just slightly. You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry, yet you swore you could taste the heat rolling off him.

Logan’s eyes flickered down to your throat as you swallowed, the barest hint of amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. He let out a low, rough chuckle—one that felt like gravel and smoke—and before you knew it, his hand was cradling the back of your neck, fingers splaying out against your nape and jaw in a way that had you forgetting how to breathe. The strength in his grip was tempered with something careful, deliberate, and when he tugged you forward, you melted into it willingly, chasing the pull like it was magnetic.

His lips found yours in an instant, the kiss deep and consuming, all heat and desperation that made your head spin. Logan kissed you like he was trying to unravel you, his mouth moving against yours in a way that left you pliant and eager, gasping against him. With every subtle pull of his hand, you followed, inching forward without thought, his control and your surrender melting together.

When you opened your eyes again, you were on your knees on the pillow, face to face with the aching strain beneath the thin fabric of his boxers. You blinked up at him, lips kiss-swollen, as the realization coursed through you, heat prickling at the back of your neck. Logan watched you closely, his thumb brushing slowly along your jaw where his hand still lingered, as though grounding you there—reminding you that this was him, guiding you, coaxing you forward.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice dark and edged with something thick and raw. His thumb dragged along your lower lip, smirking when he noticed you shiver. “Go on. Hold me again, sweetheart.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Your hands trembled slightly as they curled around him once more, this time with more confidence, more purpose. Logan’s gaze stayed locked on yours, his chest rising and falling in steady breaths, though his voice dropped to a whisper when he spoke again.

“Good. Now, let me feel those soft lips of yours.” He guided you closer, the weight of his palm on the back of your neck a constant, steadying anchor as you leaned forward. Your lips brushed along the shaft first—tentative, testing—as though learning every inch of him. Logan’s breath hitched, and when you pressed a lingering kiss to the tip, his reaction shattered any lingering doubt.

A deep groan spilled from his chest, half a breathless chuckle, half a helpless sound that made your stomach twist in the best way. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, the sound shaky as his muscles tensed.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he muttered, his hand tightening at your nape. You swore you felt him tremble for just a moment before his voice turned low and rough again. “Sorry, baby. Can’t help myself.”

Before you could process what he meant, his fingers slid into your hair, fisting just tight enough to make your scalp tingle, and with a gentle but deliberate motion, he pushed the tip past your parted lips. The first inch of him filled your mouth, the taste of him flooding your senses, and it was enough to make your mind blank entirely. 

He stilled, his hands firm yet tentative as they guided your gaze up to meet his. The look in his eyes sent a wave of heat coursing through you, pooling low in your belly and making your thighs clench involuntarily. A faint whimper escaped your throat, and you squirmed, trying in vain to adjust the soaked fabric pressing against your folds.

“Oh, pretty girl,” Logan murmured, his chest rising and falling heavily, his voice low and rough with restraint. “You’re makin’ this real hard for me.” He paused, his thumb brushing along your jaw, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You trust me to take good care of you, right?”

You nodded without hesitation, a small, ragged sound catching in your throat as heat prickled across your cheeks. You felt obscene—completely undone under his gaze—but the way Logan looked at you chased away every last shred of doubt.

“Good girl,” he breathed, his hands sliding up to cradle the sides of your neck, a gentle yet possessive hold that left your pulse fluttering wildly. Slowly, he guided you closer, his touch steady as he coaxed your mouth open.

“Relax for me, sweetheart,” he whispered, his thumb sweeping over your jaw, encouraging it to drop further. A strained exhale left his lips as he eased in deeper, until the tip of his cock brushed the back of your throat. “Oh, yes—” Logan’s voice broke into a rough, shaky breath as he bottomed out, and your eyes fluttered shut as you adjusted to the weight of him.

“Come on, baby. I know you can take it,” he urged softly, his voice laced with both praise and challenge. Your hands rose instinctively to grip his thighs, your fingers twisting into the fabric of his pants as you let out a muffled moan around him.

The sound seemed to undo him further. Logan groaned low in his chest, his hand shifting to the back of your head to hold you there just a moment longer, as though savoring the feeling. You tried to quiet yourself, but the excitement coursing through you was impossible to contain—soft, needy noises escaped despite your efforts, vibrating against him as he held you still against his body.

Logan’s grip tightened at the nape of your neck, his restraint snapping like a taut wire. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he rasped, his voice rough and gravelly, “fuck, you’re takin’ me so good.” His hips began to move—slow at first, testing your limits—before he couldn’t hold back any longer.

He bucked into your mouth with a sharp, unrelenting rhythm, his breath coming harder and faster with every thrust. The sound of his low, guttural groans mixed with the wet noises of your mouth, the lewdness of it only spurring him on. “So perfect,” he praised, his voice cracking as he drove himself deeper. “You were made for this, weren’t you, baby? Look at you—”

The words tumbled out in a broken mix of curses and praise, his hold on you steady but possessive as he guided your head to meet each snap of his hips. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, your throat constricting around him as your nails dug into his thighs, but the way he sounded—so utterly wrecked—sent waves of pleasure through you, making you moan around him.

“Fuck,—oh, baby, just like that—” Logan’s voice was strained, raw, his head tilting back as he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. He was on the brink, his movements growing more erratic as he neared his edge, but before he could lose himself completely, his hand fisted in your hair, yanking you back with a sudden, desperate motion.

You gasped, panting heavily as your lips parted, your chest heaving as you blinked up at him. His eyes were blown wide, dark with hunger, his lips slightly parted as though trying to catch his breath. Without a word, Logan hauled you upward, crashing his mouth onto yours in a heated, sloppy kiss. His tongue pushed past your lips, claiming every inch of you as he groaned against your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue.

The kiss was frantic, all teeth and heat as he walked you backward, his hands gripping your waist before spinning you around and throwing you onto the bed. You barely had time to catch your breath before he was on you, his hands tugging at your clothes with a singular focus, stripping you bare with rough, hurried movements.

“Goddamn,” Logan muttered under his breath, his gaze sweeping over your exposed skin as he sat back just long enough to yank his own shirt over his head. The sight of him—bare-chested, muscles taut and flexing as he moved—sent a fresh rush of heat pooling between your thighs.

Logan’s hands were on you in an instant, his lips crashing down against your neck as he kissed, nipped, and licked his way down your body with a ravenous intensity. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you closer, his grip firm and possessive as though he couldn’t get enough of you.

“You’re somethin’ else, sunshine,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and low, vibrating through you. His teeth scraped over your collarbone before his tongue soothed the mark, leaving you gasping beneath him.

His lips trailed lower, his hot breath teasing against your chest as his hands slid up, cupping your breasts with a firm, deliberate squeeze. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. Logan grinned against your skin when you arched into him, his lips wrapping around one taut peak as his fingers rolled the other, coaxing a breathless moan from your lips.

“Look at you,” he said, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, his lips glistening. His eyes burned with unrestrained hunger as his hands roamed your body, exploring every inch with rough, greedy caresses. “Already fallin’ apart for me, huh?”

You barely managed a nod, your head spinning as his mouth moved lower, his lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your stomach. His hands gripped your thighs, prying them apart as he settled between them, his gaze locked onto yours. The sight alone—Logan on his knees, his broad shoulders pinning your legs open, his lips glistening as he licked them—made your breath hitch.

“Goddamn, you’re a dream,” he rasped, his voice thick with reverence and desire. He dipped his head, his stubble brushing against your inner thighs as his tongue flicked out, teasing along your folds. The first swipe of his tongue sent a shudder through you, and Logan groaned deeply, the sound reverberating against you.

“You taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he murmured, his lips wrapping around your swollen clit and sucking lightly, drawing a sharp cry from you. Your hands flew to his hair, fingers tangling in the thick strands as he worked you over with unrelenting precision.

Logan alternated between long, slow strokes of his tongue and quick, teasing flicks, relishing every sound you made, every twitch of your body beneath him. His hands gripped your thighs tighter, holding you in place as he buried his face deeper, his nose brushing against your sensitive nub as his tongue dove inside you.

“God,” he growled against you, his voice rough and dripping with approval. “You’re so fuckin’ sweet, sunshine. Can’t get enough of you.” He pulled back slightly, his lips and chin slick with your arousal as he grinned up at you. “Look at you, practically undone for me already.”

You writhed beneath him, your body trembling as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, his fingers replacing his mouth to keep the steady rhythm against your clit. “Logan,” you whimpered, your voice high and desperate, your thighs trembling as heat coiled low in your belly.

“That’s it,” he coaxed, his voice like velvet, his eyes dark and intense as he watched you. “Let go for me, baby. I wanna feel you fall apart.”

You were barely holding onto a thread of sanity, your head spinning, your breath hitching as Logan’s relentless tongue and fingers pushed you higher and higher. Your nails scraped against his scalp, and Logan groaned in response, the vibration sending you tumbling over the edge.

Your body arched off the bed as the pressure inside you built to an unbearable peak, every nerve ending ignited under Logan's expert tongue and fingers. The pleasure crashed through you like a tidal wave, your thighs trembling violently as you cried out his name, your hands fisting in his hair.

"That's it," Logan growled against you, his voice dark and dripping with satisfaction as he continued to devour you. "Let it all out for me, sweetheart."

Your orgasm tore through you, so intense that your vision blurred, your entire body trembling as if it couldn’t contain the raw ecstasy coursing through you. Logan didn’t let up for a second, his tongue working you through the aftershocks, prolonging every wave until you were left gasping and shuddering beneath him.

Before you could catch your breath, Logan was on you, his body a solid weight over yours. His hands gripped your hips, and in one swift motion, he buried himself inside you, stealing the remnants of your orgasm and turning them into something even more feral.

“Fuck,” Logan rasped, his voice rough as his hips snapped forward with an unforgiving pace. “Still so tight, baby. I’ve gotcha—just let me take care of you.”

The sensation was overwhelming—his thick cock filling you completely, his relentless rhythm pushing you further into the mattress with every thrust. Your cries mingled with the sound of skin meeting skin, your nails clawing at his back as he moved with a desperate hunger, biting and sucking at your neck, leaving marks that burned and thrilled in equal measure.

“You feel that?” he murmured darkly against your ear, his teeth grazing your earlobe before his lips trailed down to your jaw. “This is what you were made for—bein’ mine. My perfect little thing, takin’ me so damn well.”

His hand slid up to your throat, his fingers wrapping around it with a possessive grip that sent a shiver through you. He applied just enough pressure to make your head spin, his eyes locked onto yours, burning with raw intensity. “Look at you, sunshine,” he praised, his voice low and gravelly. “So fuckin’ beautiful when you let go—when you give yourself to me.”

Your moans turned into gasps as he choked you lightly, his thumb brushing along the side of your neck, coaxing you to surrender completely. Logan’s lips found yours again, devouring your cries as his hips slammed into you, his movements erratic and desperate as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

His teeth sank into your shoulder, a primal growl rumbling through his chest as his hand slid down to your thigh, gripping it tightly to spread you wider for him. His thrusts grew harder, deeper, and the sheer force of him sent you spiraling again, your body clenching tightly around him.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it,” Logan groaned, his voice breaking as he felt your walls flutter around him. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, so good for me. Gonna make you mine all over again.”

You cried out as another orgasm overtook you, this one more intense than the first, leaving you trembling and incoherent beneath him. Logan’s movements didn’t falter; if anything, they grew rougher, more possessive, his thumb pressing into the base of your throat as his teeth found the tender skin of your collarbone again.

"That's my girl," he growled, his voice sharp with pride and need as your body writhed beneath his. "Look at you, squirtin’ all over me—so fuckin’ perfect.”

Your body gave out beneath him, your vision blurring as the pleasure consumed you entirely. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, your cries filling the room as Logan’s relentless pace pushed you to your limits.

Logan’s hand fisted in your hair, tugging your head back as he kissed you deeply, his tongue dominating yours as his hips drove forward with punishing intensity. His free hand roamed your body, squeezing, groping, claiming every inch of you as he chased his own release.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough and possessive, his breath hot against your ear as he gave a final, brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt. His body tensed, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as he came, his hips rolling through his climax as if he couldn’t bear to leave your warmth.

Logan collapsed over you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his lips brushing against your temple as he murmured softly, his voice still tinged with raw need. “So fuckin’ good, sunshine. My perfect girl.”

Logan’s grip tightened around your waist, his breath ragged as he held you in place, your body still trembling beneath him. His chest heaved, his lips brushing against your ear as he pressed a kiss to the side of your neck, savoring the feel of you around him. His voice was low, a dark satisfaction lacing every word.

“See how good it feels to let go, sweetheart?” he murmured, his lips curling into a smirk as his eyes bored into yours. "I told you, just had to trust me."

You didn’t respond with words, your gaze locking onto his as you fought for breath, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. The only sound in the room was your uneven breaths and the faint, rhythmic pulse of his dick still buried deep inside you.

His hand found the back of your neck, pulling you forward with unrelenting force. The kiss he claimed you with was messy and possessive, his tongue dominating yours, tasting, owning you in every way. His grip on your neck tightened slightly, making it harder to breathe, but you didn’t care. You were lost in him, completely, mindlessly, heart in your throat as he claimed you like this.

You were on top of him now, your body straddling him, both of you entwined in a messy, raw dance that didn’t need words—just the wet slide of your lips, the heat of his skin, the desperate shallow thrusts that made everything blur. His kiss was greedy, ferocious, as though he needed you to know that you were his—his plaything, his perfect girl.

You moaned into the kiss, the sensation of him still deep inside you enough to keep your thoughts scattered and incoherent. Logan didn’t pull away. He kept you close, his tongue in your mouth, tasting, owning, until you could barely keep your eyes open, your body consumed by him —sloppy, messy, and completely possessive, as if the world could end and all that mattered was this. All that mattered was you, beneath him, in his arms, on top of him, held and claimed by his every touch.

And as you melted into the kiss, body trembling and mind slipping into a daze of pleasure, everything else faded. All that remained was the feel of him, the sound of his breath, and the heat that still burned between you.

---

a/n: smooches! (reblog pls)

[w1ll0wray]

I'm not sure if your requests are open but I loved your last vampire!jinx fic and I was wondering if we could maybe get another vampire!jinx smut but where she turns the reader? If you do it, thank you!

MY NEED FOR YOU ft. vampire jinx x fem!reader

⊹₊⟡⋆ summary: classic nepo baby, spoiled with the most exquisite pearls that ever touched earth. your father always spoiled you with anything you wanted, but one thing he always stood by was ‘no meddling with his coworkers’. Well father… does the one with the dashing looks and dangerously adorable smile count?

⊹₊⟡⋆warnings: coworker!jinx x boss!daughter, vampire!jinx x fem!reader, jinx turns reader into a vampire, men or minors dni, nsfw, blood tw, sharp fangs, blood exchange, spoiled brat reader, jealousy, banter, fem!reader receiving, smut, kinda enemies?

wc. 2.3k

𐙚 note | I’d really appreciate it if you would not only just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. thank you:)

this was a request; I hope this reached your expectations!

Staring at your father’s coworker, you sneered. Of course she’d be invited to the event.

Ignoring the ladies cooing at your cat, you continue running your fingers through her fur, eyes stuck on the blue-haired girl’s silhouette. She looked so…irresistible. 

Biting on the inside of your cheek, you squint your eyes at her attire— a dress shirt, a pair of dark pants and coat hanging off her shoulder. She was in the middle of a conversation with older people, a dangerously attractive grin spreading across her face. 

Glancing away, you turn your attention to your ladies pampering you with all the compliments in the world— eager for your acknowledgment. You were dressed in an off-the-shoulder black gown with lace and bow accents, paired with long dark gloves. Your outfit is adorned with Vivienne Westwood’s pearls.

Your cat had a similar choker, Vivienne Westwood’s team gifted it. To be fair, you outshined everyone in this event, even if you were seated on a couch in the living room. The mansion was huge, perfect for the gatherings your father held. 

Though, the only thing on your mind was Jinx lingering around. Your father’s young coworker, she was known for her insane creativity in the technology industry— of course she’d be here.

Feeling her presence come near, you snap your head up, watching her grab from the snack table a macaron. You scoffed a little too loud, because her gaze finally meets yours. 

“If it isn’t Jinx.” Your ladies look up, noticing the woman you were addressing to. Jinx pauses, the macaron half eaten in her hand, brow raising in amusement. 

She chuckles, taking a few steps closer towards your seated form, “Lazying about, as usual?” Her words prompt you to frown, but your lips immediately curved into a sarcastic smile, “And yet, I’m still the highlight of the room. Funny how that works.” You smirked, eyes momentarily trailing down to her lips. 

Jinx rolls her eyes, hand on her hip, “Oh, please. Do you seriously think anyone’s impressed by you just lying around?” She gave you a pointed look, a hint of annoyance in her voice. Your grin doesn’t falter, “Well—”

“—Jinx!” A woman’s voice cuts through the banter, arms wrapping around Jinx in an instance. You narrowed your gaze at the woman’s proximity. She then faces you, her brows raising, “Oh sorry— who are you?” Jinx waves a hand at your direction, “Just my coworker’s daughter. Here, let’s go grab drinks.” 

Your cheeks flushed with heat, a fire burning in your chest at the girl’s hand wrapping around Jinx’s arm. She was nothing compared to you, so why was Jinx hanging around a woman like her? The way she had dismissed you as her coworkers daughter made your blood boil, a storm of rage crashing inside you. 

Huffing, you push away the hands from caressing your cat, “Go away, all of you!” Your ladies frown, but obey, leaving you alone. Glancing at Jinx joyfully chatting with the woman, you abruptly stand up, cat in arms. Making your way to your father, you pulled him aside. 

“Father, i want that lady gone.” You point at the woman with Jinx, her disgusting laughter heard from a mile away. Your father frowned,

“Has she done anything?” 

Pausing for a split second, you quickly compose yourself, “She’s not dressed modestly enough and…she hurt my feelings.” He glanced at her dress, before mindlessly nodding to his body guard, “Go get that woman out.” 

He rubbed your arm comfortably, “Tell me if anything bothers you, darling.” He warmly kisses your forehead before continuing his business chat. You nodded, an innocent smile crept on your face as the body guard forcefully pushed the girl out. You turned to glance at Jinx, only to freeze under the weight of her glare—sharp and unimpressed, like she’d been aiming those daggers at you the whole time. 

Pulling your cat closer, you narrow your gaze as she stormed towards you. Once her musk cologne surrounds you, you brace for the argument you’re both about to have. But, regrettably for you, she only shoved your shoulder as she made her way out. Pouting, you stared at the grand door she just left from, puzzled by her behavior.  

For the next couple of hours, you scrolled through your phone in the filled living room, ignoring everyone even if they greeted you. You wanted Jinx. 

Even if she hated you— her attention was everything you craved for ever since meeting her last year. She never spoke to you like others, cautious of her coworker’s daughter. It annoyed you, how could she not get the hint? 

As you began taking your leave from the living room, wanting to cool off in your room, Jinx’s presence entered the room. Snapping your head towards the entrance, her glare met yours. She seemed furious, her strides quickening as she got closer to you. Noticing her palms clenched, her teeth gritting, you took hesitant steps up the stairs. As she reached you, you let your cat go, running up the stairs and through the halls.

Something about the way she was staring at you— as if she was hunting her prey, it made the hair on the back of your neck rise up. Running in heels was difficult, especially when you could hear her rapid footsteps behind you. Forcefully entering your room, you locked the door behind you. 

Sighing in relief, you squeezed your eyes shut and rested your body against the door. Once you stop hearing her footsteps,  you blink open your eyes, ready for a warm bath. 

“Thought you could get away with that, hm?” 

You snapped your head up in alarm. To your utter shock, she was standing right in front of you, her gaze piercing, like she’d been there all along. Your heart skipped a beat, confusion washing over you—how did she get in here?

Gulping, your eyes widened at her irises glowing pink. She took cautious steps towards you, impressed by your calm demeanor. The tip of her finger landed on your chin, lifting your head up, “I know it was you.” Her tone was harsh, indicating that she was upset. Trying to seem unbothered, you shrugged your shoulders, leaning your face closer, “It’s my house. I get to choose the guests—especially if they’re sluts from the streets.” Her jaw clenched, eyes wide. 

“And plus,” You continued, pushing her off, fingers lingering on the fabric of her shirt before walking off to your vanity. You sat down, unclasping your choker, rubbing on the bare skin of your neck, “...I didn’t appreciate the way she laid her hands on you." Hearing Jinx scoff, you dart your eyes at the mirror of your vanity, expecting to see her reflexion. 

But there was nothing. 

Whirling your head around, confusion flickers across your features at her still standing behind you. Your eyes flicked back for a double-take, panic arising. 

Abruptly standing up, your chair tumbled to the side,  “Something’s up with you.” Your head turned to the side, gaze on Jinx. Finally facing her, you took reluctant steps towards her, eyes squinting on her gorgeous appearance. Face-to-face, Jinx’s brow raised, amusement clear in her sinful smile, “Oh, really?” That raspy voice of hers prompted the inside of your stomach to do flips. 

Still watching her, you pointed at your vanity, “Your reflexion,” She glanced at the mirror, her teeth peeking through to bite her bottom lip, as if anticipating your response. Your heart hammered in your chest, “You have no reflexion—how’s that possible?” She only scoffed, but suddenly started laughing. 

 Her laughter was unsettling—too loud, too sudden, a burst of chaotic energy that filled your room. Your brows knit together, nose scrunching, “I asked you a question—?”

Her cackling stops out of nowhere. In a blink of an eye, her face is only a few inches away from yours, a mischievous glint in her eyes, “You’re so naïve.” Her voice was sugar-coated, making the insult hit harder. 

Sneering like a spoiled toddler, you stuck your face dangerously close, “Stop acting so high and mighty and answer my—“ 

The words died in my throat as she hissed, lips curling back to reveal sharp fangs that you swore could tear through your flesh. You froze, every instinct screaming at you to back away. Her eyes gleamed a magnetic pink, somehow luring you in. Your breath hitched, a cold chill running through your spine.

You’ve never seen a vampire before— but you seriously wanted to know if they all looked this breathtaking. Indeed, she looked terrifying but somehow, your heart betrayed you, pounding harder. 

She looked so ravishing, a dangerous beauty that stole your breath. Against all reason, a smile spread across your face, surprising even her. Jinx paused, her fierce expression flickering with confusion, as if she couldn’t understand why you weren’t trembling but smiling instead. 

Drawing closer to her, you catch a whiff of her addictive cologne, causing the erratic pounding of your heart. Grinning, your hands come up to rest on her collarbone, fingers tracing the fabric, “I don’t care if you’re some lunatic bloodsucker,” Your lashers flutter as you flick your gaze upwards, meeting her shimmering pink eyes. She doesn’t realize, but determination gleams in your expression. 

All at once, you seize the fabric of her collar, forcing her down, “,because it only increases my need for you.” Cutting off her gasp, your lips crashed into hers, swallowing the sound in an instant. 

Feeling her falter for a split second, you tangle your hand into her hair, pressing her closer, needing her lips. Though, she pushes you off, taking a few steps back. 

“You don’t know what your—“ 

You groan, fed up with her stalling, yanking her back by her collar, “Then turn me, Jinx.” She stares at you, stunned by your request. Raising a questioning brow, you let your lips linger a few inches away, hearing her breath hitch, “You belong to me, and only me.” You knew your father would probably disown you for doing this with his coworker, but his opinion didn’t matter to you. Only she did.

In a flash, her lips smash against yours, tightly cupping your face as she navigated you both scarily fast to the bed. Your back meets the mattress, dress riding up as your knees bend upwards, your heels falling off. Jinx’s lips attached to your neck, leaving a wet trail down your chest. Impatiently nudging her head, you force her up, “Kiss me.” Your lips nearly touch hers, but she pulls away. 

Tsking, she begins to tug at your dress, almost ripping it, “Take this off.” Her tone harsh. You only scowl in exchange, slapping her hand away, “It’s designer, don’t you dare rip it.” You pull up your dress, revealing the lace lingerie you had put on incase of this situation. Jinx stared at the bottoms doing practically nothing to hide your pussy, biting her lip in excitement, “You brat.” She huffs, spreading your legs and pulling the lingerie to the side. 

Immediately, your lips part to let out pleasured moans once her tongue steadily traces your folds. She doesn’t go easy on you, her lips sucking on your clit directly, prompting you to arch your back. Head tilting back, your fingers grab her hair roughly, making her wince. Out of nowhere, she backs away, your lips pouting as she stands beside the bed, leaving you bare. 

But a smile tugs at your lips when she rids of her layers, her finger tilting your head up when she spots you trying to peek down. Suddenly, she pulls down your underwear, raising one of your legs onto her shoulder. You bucked your hips, wanting her on you already. After making a noise of displeasure, Jinx finally grinds her cunt against yours. Letting out a gasp at the sensation of her pussy, you spread your legs further, whimpering when she began kissing up your leg. 

Your leg still over her shoulder, her head bent down, lips tickling your neck with feathered kisses. Having enough, you forced her head up, your lips hungrily latching into hers and your tongue entering her mouth. Letting you take control, she continued grinding against you, leading to you whining and partially pulling away. Her lips then trail down to your neck, licking on the spot directly above your pulse. 

“Do it.” You mumble, staring at the ceiling, feeling her pause. She then placed a soft kiss on your cheek, lifting her face till your foreheads touched, “It’s not a simple thing.” She flinched when your hands rested on the side of her head, a roll of your eyes following after, “I’m only doing it  if it means we get to live together.” 

She frowned before letting a small smile spread across her face, huffing, “..you really are a stubborn brat.” Her head then lowers to the crook of your neck, letting out a hiss before sinking her fangs into your skin. 

Wincing, you grabbed her hand as she drank your blood, tightening your hold as your vision began to blur. In the midst of your dizziness, you felt her pull away, spotting her sink her teeth into her wrist. Blood trickled down her wrist and onto your chest, coating it with the crimson liquid. She then approached her wrist to your lips, holding your head, “Drink up.” 

Obeying, your lips suck around the wound, swallowing down her blood. You didn’t know how to admit it— but her blood tasted sweet. Not noticing the time passing by, she tugged your head back, your dizziness gone. 

“…welcome to being immortal.” She hummed out, her lips still red from sucking you off. Grinning, you sat up and wrapped your arms around her. 

Locking eyes with her, you pushed a loose stray away from her face, addicted to that scent radiating off of her, “You better workship me for this.” 

banners creds. not my best work oops but hope u enjoyed!! I’m also aware my masterlist doesn’t exist haha I’ll get around to doing it. requests r still open n reblogs r appreciated!!

[loveesiren]

𝔊𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔱

Rafe Cameron x Reader

a/n: I found a fic a few years ago that I really loved that was similar to this but I can't find the fic now so credits to whoever wrote it first and inspired me!

this is just a short drabble and i don't want to give it away so...deal with no warnings lmfao

wc: 484

Rafe’s breathing hitched as he leaned over the table, inhaling another line of cocaine His shoulders tensed, his mind swimming in a haze of euphoria and longing. He felt your touch—cool and ethereal—your fingernails lightly grazing his bare back.

“You can’t keep doing this, Rafael,” you murmured, your voice a delicate melody that pulled him from the edge of oblivion. A smirk played on your lips, but your eyes held a sadness that mirrored his own.

He turned to you, his pupils blown wide, his hand trembling as he cupped your cheek. “I don’t care,” he whispered, his voice raw. “Every time I see you, it’s like I’m alive again. You’re more beautiful than anything I’ve ever known.”

His lips found yours, soft and cold, and for a moment, he didn’t feel broken. The warmth that spread through his body was a cruel contrast to the chill of your skin beneath his trembling hand.

“I missed you,” he said, his voice cracking as he pressed you back onto the bed. His lips trailed over your neck, down to your collarbone, each kiss a desperate plea. “Every... fucking... inch of you.” His words were punctuated by shaky breaths, his devotion etched into every touch.

“I miss you too,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. Your hands trembled as they found his hair, threading through it like you used to. “I miss waking up next to you, hearing your heartbeat. I miss... everything.”

Rafe froze, lifting his head to meet your gaze. His blue eyes were glassy, searching yours for something that wasn’t there anymore. “Stay tonight,” he begged, his voice breaking on the last word.

You cupped his face with hands that no longer carried warmth. “You know I can’t, baby,” you said softly, your words a knife to his fragile heart. “This... it’s not real.”

“It’s real to me!” he snapped, his voice rising, his fists clenching the sheets beneath you. “You’re real to me, and I don’t care what anyone says. I love you—God, I love you so much.” His forehead fell against yours, his tears mixing with the faint scent of you that still haunted his senses.

“I love you too, Rafael,” you said, your voice breaking as you leaned up to press a final, lingering kiss to his lips. “Always.”

When the kiss ended, you were gone. Like every other night, you slipped away, leaving him alone with the ghosts of his memories and the ache in his chest that never dulled.

Rafe sat in the empty room, his body shaking, his hands gripping the sheets where your outline had been. His breath came in ragged gasps as the truth clawed at him, relentless and cruel. You weren’t here.

You would never be here again.

And no matter how many lines he sniffed or how many prayers he whispered into the dark, the dead couldn’t come back to life.

© loveesiren 2025 - do not copy, translate, transfer, or repost my work without my permission. if you find my work on sites other than through links i've provided, please notify me.

Tags: @torturedtypewritersdept @bigenergy777 @outerbankspov @purplerose291 @shayofandoms @mirellef2001 @seojunandsoju @niktwazny303 @jjmaybankmylovee @simp4f1 @faephoria @toftomgmf @bunnykoo901 @adarkskinarchives @millietozier @babybreadamericano @hwaaholic @dilfluvr4evr @wtfdudesblog @harrys-housewife @sereneera @lizziesangel @akobx @kieeslove @serrendiipty @esquivelbianca @agnxstic @zinwaldorf

[mayrose713]

Beautifully Cruel World-Chapter 14

Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

ABO Non-Idol Stray Kids Universe Poly OT8 x Reader 18+ MDNI

Warnings in the Series Masterlist as well as any other information needed

I'm still writing I promise. My great grandma is okay so I'm not going back to where I grew up for now. I am having to work everyday until Christmas at the moment but managed to finish this chapter today after I had taken some time getting my thoughts for another story out. Sometimes starting on another fic that I have in my head helps me with my writers block for my original fics so look forward to a new one eventually after I have finished this.

Enjoy this long waited chapter

Chapter 14

“Alright baby girl.” Chan holds Y/n’s hand as they walk down the street of shops. “Let’s get you some swimsuits.”

Seungmin grabs the door of one of the shops and holds it open for the two as they walk in. The omega looks around seeing it’s specifically a swimsuit shop and immediately becomes a bit overwhelmed at all the options. Of course most of them are bikinis which she frowns at being unsure about showing off so much skin. 

“You okay?” Seungmin grabs her other hand, having smelled her scent sour a little.

“Yeah.” She whispers with a small nod still looking around her.

“Baby.” Seungmin frowns and steps directly in front of her so she would look at him. “You get whatever suits you are comfortable with.”

“It is why we’re the ones taking you.” Chan squeezes her hand. “We’re the two that won't try and convince you to get a bikini if you don’t wanna.”

“Thank you.” She whispers again smiling at both of them before letting go of their hands to start looking around the store.

She starts off looking at some of the one pieces as well as tankinis and grabs a few of them to try on. She also grabs a few pairs of some female swim trunks. 

“I’m gonna try these on.” Y/n walks away from them to the dressing room and they follow to sit in the waiting area outside of the rooms.

Chan sighs as they sit down in the chairs. “She doesn’t like this.”

“Shopping in general or for swimsuits?” Seungmin asks.

“I think for swimsuits.” The alpha looks at his younger mate. “Felix said she doesn’t really know how to swim meaning she probably didn’t go to the beach or pool much.”

“I can understand if she’s uncomfortable showing so much skin around us.” Seungmin thinks about it but shakes his head. “But Hyunjin said she went skinny dipping with Lix last night.”

Chan looks at the beta a bit shocked but then thinks about it for a second. “It makes sense actually.”

“How?” Seungmin furrows his brows. 

“Lixie is the most omega-like beta any of us has ever met.” Chan sighs. “She’s the most comfortable with him because of it, has been since the moment we met her. It was him she asked to sit in the bathroom with her during her bath after her dry heat. I honestly think if our pack didn’t have any alphas she would have wanted him to claim her first.”

“Well he was the first of the rest of us to do so.” Seungmin gives a small smile and Chan looks shocked again as he didn’t know about this. “Lix and I shared a room last night. I noticed the new bite mark on his neck. And I confirmed it when I saw Y/n this morning.”

“I’m just glad they have each other.” The alpha sits back in the chair. “I don’t know if you had noticed but Lixie hadn’t seem quite like himself before we found Y/n”

“I did.” Seungmin mumbles. “I think we all noticed.” He glances back towards the dressing rooms to see if there's any sign of the omega coming back out again and sighs when there isn’t. “He’s really perked up with her around. Jisung too.”

“All of you have.” Chan looks at him lovingly and reaches over, placing a hand on his thigh. “I know you and Hyunjin were against her at first but the moment her dry heat kicked in you stepped up more than I ever would have thought. I haven’t seen you like that with anyone other than Lixie and Ji.”

Before the beta could say anything else Y/n walks out of one of the rooms, placing most of the swimsuits on the rack of put backs but holds a few as she joins them. “I’m done.”

“Great.” Chan stands up taking the items from the girl. “I’ll take these and check them out then we can go get ice cream or something. Why don’t you two look up what's nearby.”

After Chan walks away Seungmin gently grabs her chin to look at him. “What’s wrong pup?”

“Nothing.” She tries to brush him off but he doesn’t let her.

“I’m not going to ask again, Y/n.” He gets stern. 

The omega looks down sad and he pulls her to his chest as she mumbles. “I’m sorry.”

“What's wrong Y/n?”

“A lot.” She whispers into his shoulder causing him to turn his head a bit to hear her better. “I’ve just had a feeling since this morning that somethings gonna happen. Something bad.”

“It’s probably just your anxiety, baby.” He whispers back to her, rubbing her back. “You’re in a new place, doing things that you aren’t used to so you’re on edge.”

“Maybe.” She sighs into his neck taking in his scent. 

“What else is bothering you?” Seungmin asks and he feels her huff against him for how he’s so observant. “It isn’t just today, yesterday too, after we had gotten to the house. You seemed so happy and excited at first but it changed after Min and Lixie went to the store.”

“It’s stupid.” She tries to pull away but he doesn’t let her. “Minnie.”

“Your feelings aren’t stupid.” He reassures her. “Tell me.”

Y/n sighs again. “Innie told me that everyone shared rooms while here which you all think helps the pack bonding and strengthens your relationship. But…”

“We get here and place you in your own room.” He sighs. “You feel excluded.”

She nods her head and feels him tighten his hold on her. “I get that at home I had mostly been sleeping in my room but the night before we left I slept in Minho’s bed with him and Jisung and I really enjoyed it.”

“So when Innie told you we all shared, you were looking forward to it.” He lays his head against hers. 

“Yeah.” 

“Why didn’t you ask if you could sleep with two of us?” He hates her feeling like this. “Or ask one of us to sleep in your room with you? I would have. And you know Lix would in a heartbeat.”

“I don’t know.” She grabs the back of his shirt. 

“You were scared we would deny you? Especially after putting you in your own room.” Seungmin quickly realizes and his heart breaks. “Baby, I promise you we would never.”

“I know, I’m trying to get used to that.” She pulls away to look up at him.

“You’re just so used to it that your brain isn’t letting you.” He pokes her head a little, making her give a small smile. “But we’ll fix that. Starting with me sleeping in your room tonight.”

“You don’t have to Minnie.”

“I want to.”

After checking out, Chan notices his mates embracing, causing him to smile. But he quickly realizes that something is wrong based on how Seungmin is holding Y/n and gets worried. 

“What happened?” He asks once he walks over to them and they both turn to look at their alpha as he tries to assess the situation. 

The beta looks at Y/n for a second before turning Chan. “Everything’s okay, just some anxiety.”

Chan looks at both of them for a moment and accepts that answer and rubs both of their arms. “Okay. Do you want to continue and go get something sweet or head back to the house?”

“No, we can go wherever.” The omega doesn’t want to ruin their date. “Minnie helped.”

“You sure?” He checks to make sure there wasn’t any doubt and that she’s okay. When he doesn’t see sign of any and she nods he takes her hand. “Alright, let's go find what's around that has something sweet to eat.”

“I’m sure the ice cream and pastry shop is still here from last time.” Seungmin takes his phone out of his pocket to double check. “Yup, it’s still there.”

“Then let’s go.” 

Chan leads the two along behind him, still holding the shopping bag as they walk out of the store and head towards the little dessert shop. The smell of fresh baked goods hits them the moment they walk in making Y/n eyes widen at the amount of options to choose from.

“Well we know you like chocolate since you enjoyed Felix’s brownies.” Seungmin grabbed her hand. “Do you want ice cream or do you want a pastry?”

“Or both?” The alpha chimes in.

“I think just ice cream.” She mumbles and they bring her over to the glass of all the ice cream flavors. 

The amount of flavors to choose from overwhelms her as she looks at all of it, shocked to see so many. Y/n’s been used to only chocolate or vanilla. 

“What flavor are you thinking?” Seungmin squeezes her hand. 

“Just chocolate.” 

The two males glance at each other in concern by her mood. 

Chan looks around and the little parlor is pretty much empty. 

“Why don’t you grab us a table and we’ll order.” He smiles at her and she tenses up. “It’s okay baby, there’s practically no one in here and we can see everything so you aren’t exactly alone. We won’t let anything happen.” 

She nods before letting go of their hands and goes to grab a table while they wait for the worker to finish the persons in front of them order before it’s their turn. 

“What’s going on Minnie?” Chan finally asks the beta after Y/n is out of hearing range, wrapping an arm around the younger to bring him into his side. 

Seungmin's sighs before look up at the older male. “She feels she’s being excluded being in her own room. And didn’t want to ask to sleep with any of us last night or have any of us with her because she was scared of being denied.” 

“We would never deny her like that.” 

“I know.” Seungmin reassures. “And I think deep down she does too. She's just so used to it that she still fears it.”

“Eventually she’ll no longer be afraid.”

The two ordered once it was their turn. Y/n sits at a table nearby watching the two when she notices someone walking past the shop outside. She didn’t fully get to see them but she could have sworn it was her cousin. She tries not to freak out as she had always gotten along with her cousins fairly well and just assumes that maybe he has a tournament on the island this week. 

“One chocolate ice cream.” Chan sets the cup in front of her, making her turn back to them and smile as they too sit down at the table. 

She scoops up a small bite on her spoon before licking it and her eyes widen. “Oh my god, this is so good.” 

The two males smile and give a small chuckle at her. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

“Lix has already fallen asleep between Changbin and Hyunjin in one of the beds so I don’t have to worry about him sleeping alone.” Seungmin walks into the omega’s temporary room seeing her on her phone. “I’m all yours tonight.” 

“Wanna watch a movie?” She puts her phone down and he grabs the remote off the dresser below the tv. 

“What movie were you thinking?” He joins her on the bed, putting a little bit of distance between them wanting her to move closer when she’s ready. 

“You pick.”

He gives her a bit of an evil smirk before searching for a horror movie deciding on The Conjuring and turns it on. He smiles more as she scoots closer to him and he wraps an arm around her shoulders so she can rest her head on his chest and protect her when she gets scared. 

He’s shocked when halfway through the movie instead of jumping at the jump scares or hiding farther into his chest during some of the scary parts, she’s laughing or just relaxed against him. 

“Are you not scared?” Seungmin looks down at her and she gazes up at him shaking her head. 

“No, not really a scary movie.” He gaps at her, making her laugh. “I’ve seen a lot of horror movies, Minnie, this doesn’t scare me.” 

“Of course you wouldn’t be scared of horror movies.” The beta laughs pulling her closer to him. “Ruining my plans of trying to have you cuddle up to me scared.”

“I’m still cuddled up to you.” She rests her chin on his chest to look up at him. “I’m just not scared.”

Seungmin gazes down at his omega for a moment before leaning down, kissing her forehead then they both turn back to the movie. Once the credits roll he realizes that Y/n has fallen asleep and can’t help but to laugh that she’s even able to fall asleep during a horror movie. 

“She asleep?” Chan asks, causing Seungmin to look up at the doorway to see the two oldest alphas. 

“Yeah, fell asleep a bit ago.” 

They both turn to look at the tv to see what they were watching as it goes back to the choosing menu. 

“Did you seriously make her watch The Conjuring?” Chan gives the beta a bit of a disappointing look. 

“Hey, she wasn’t even scared, in fact she laughed during it.” 

“And she fell asleep during it?” Minho looks at Y/n with a smile. “That’s my girl.” 

“Only we would end up with an omega who isn’t scared during horror movies like Minho.” Seungmin jokes. 

“You’re just grouchy that your plan backfired on you.” Minho winks at him before walking away.

Chan shakes his head with a sigh before looking at the two once again. “Night Minnie.”

“Night hyung.” 

______________________________________________________________

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[eiightysixbaby]

a holiday meet-cute

robin buckley x fem!reader

another fic for @littlexdeaths 12 days of promptmas 😌 prompt: you need a last minute gift, but man that salesclerk sure is cute…

The mall is packed.

You can’t really be surprised, what with Christmas being in two short days. Turns out you aren’t the only person in town who waited until the last second to buy a gift.

You’d thought you had all of your gifts in order, until one of your friends decided to mention they got you an unexpected gift, and now you felt obligated to return the favor.

You loosen the scarf around your neck, unbuttoning your coat now that you’re safe from the elements. You glance around the mall somewhat aimlessly, letting your feet carry you. Your gaze snags on the bookstore, eyes lighting up at the sight.

Bingo.

Trailing inside, you’re met with shelf after shelf of books. You don’t really know where to begin looking, you just hope that you’ll know when you find the right one. You brush past other shoppers, eyes roaming over the spines and covers of various novels.

“Did you need help finding anything?” a voice asks, breaking you from your shopping trance.

You turn, fingers still gently grazing the spine of one of the books on the shelf before you, and when you meet the face of the salesperson, your heart skips a beat.

She’s gorgeous. Stunning, bright blue eyes and freckles sprinkled over her face. Dirty blonde hair with bangs that suit her well. She looks at you expectantly, but there’s an almost nervous edge to her demeanor. Your eyes catch her name tag. Robin is written in blue marker, squiggles and dots and other designs littering the blank space around her name.

“Oh, um, no,” you stammer awkwardly. “I’m just looking for a last minute gift for a friend,” you tell her, feeling your cheeks grow warm under her stare.

“That one is actually one of my favorites”, she says, motioning with a nod of her head to the book where your fingers rest.

You follow her gaze, looking back at the book to pull it off of the shelf, though you find you don’t really want to stop looking at her.

“I-I’ve recommended it to all of my friends,” the salesclerk continues. “My friend Steve — he literally never reads — finally read that a couple months ago and he loved it. Talked my ear off about it afterwards. I almost regretted recommending it in the first place,” she laughs kind of nervously, chewing at her lip as if to keep herself from saying more.

You find the personal anecdote adorable, taking her recommendation seriously.

“Hm,” you ponder, staring at the cover of the book now in your hands. “I think you’ve just convinced me,” you tell her, watching as her eyes visibly brighten.

“Really?” she asks, her voice suddenly so quiet.

“Mhm,” you nod. “My friend, the one I’m buying for, hasn’t read in a while and they’ve been looking for something to get them back in the groove.”

The girl lights up, smiling so big. It takes all you’ve got not to reach out and trace the little laugh lines on her face. Instead you smile back at her, and maybe you hold each other’s gaze for a minute too long, but maybe it doesn’t matter.

“I’m so glad I could help,” she says finally, cheeks turning pink as her eyes dart away. “Do you want me to check you out?” she asks, before her eyes go wide. “I mean, like, ring you out. Not check you out like, check you out. Oh, god,” she trails off, but her embarrassment only makes you more smitten with her.

“That would be great,” you tell her, giggling softly to yourself as she nods and turns, skittering away like a mouse.

You follow, weaving through the shelves and up to the checkout counter. She takes your book, scanning it for you, and you find yourself tracing the freckles on her cheeks as she works.

“So, are you excited for the holiday?” she asks you. The small talk is welcome — anything to keep you here longer.

“I’m more excited now that my shopping is all done,” you reply. “Do you have any plans?” you ask, handing her the money for your purchase.

“Ah,” she says, expression turning kind of sad. “Not this year. I usually go back home for the holidays, but I couldn’t swing it this year between work and school.”

“Oh,” you frown, giving her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry. I know how that feels.”

There’s a pause, her pretty hands placing your book in a small paper bag, your eyes already on her when she looks up to meet them.

“You know, my friends and I are having a little get together. On— on Christmas Day,” you start. “Everyone always has a date and, well, I don’t have one.”

Her head tilts ever so slightly to the side, her bottom lip pulling between her teeth.

“I know we just met and you don’t even know my name or literally anything, but… if you wanted to come with me—” you stop yourself, suddenly self-conscious.

But the look in her eyes is so hopeful, it encourages you to go on.

“We’d love to have you. I’d— I’d love to help make your holiday less lonely. Since you helped me so much today, with the gift.”

“Am I attending this party as your date?” she asks, emphasizing the last word cutely, her voice gone so soft you have to lean forward to hear her.

Your face warms, fingers fidgeting on the countertop.

“If that’s okay with you, Robin,” you say, and the smile that crosses her face at the use of her name makes you certain you’ve made the right move.

The line of customers behind you grows, people in a hurry to get out and on their way. You both recognize this at the same time, and you shoot her an apologetic glance.

“I’d love to come,” Robin says, flipping your receipt over and scribbling something down. “That’s my number,” she says, handing you the slip of paper. “I’m off at 7 today, if you want to call. Or anything.”

“Okay,” you smile. “Yeah, okay. I will.”

With the receipt clutched in your hand and the book tucked under your arm, you give her a small wave before leaving the bookstore.

Your heart flutters in your chest as you look down at her writing, the glittery gel pen’s ink making each number sparkle.

Christmas can’t come fast enough.

[cosmicalily]

10:45pm with bang chan - a @cosmicalily timestamp

author’s note: okay hello so where was mr christopher bahng when i was stressing and studying like crazy for my exams? also first channie fic (everyone claps) highkey embarassing that it took me so long apologies to my bahngers

warnings: discussions of anxiety and stress to do with university/school

“Do you want a pudding? Minho dropped them off for us.”

You didn’t reply, body sprawled across the couch. Chris shrugged, assuming you were asleep, picking the small plastic cup up and rifling around in the drawer for a spoon.

“I’m so overwhelmed,” you said suddenly, your voice cracking. He stopped in his tracks, letting the spoon and unopened pudding clatter to the counter. He approached you, gently, resting his hand on your cheek, moving his thumb to wipe under your eye when a tear spilled over.

“Come here,” he said, putting his arms around you as you crawled onto his lap, wrapping your legs tight around his waist. He rubbed circles into your lower back, letting you shove your face into the crook of his neck and dampen his sweatshirt with your tears. “I’m sorry, sweet girl. You always have too much on your mind.”

You sobbed at his kindness, holding him tighter. “It’s just all this shit with my assignments, and then work, too. I keep covering for people but when I’m the one who’s sick, nobody covers for me. And then there’s that girl who just pulls apart every fucking thing I do.”

“That friend of a friend?” Chris raised an eyebrow. “What a bitch.”

“I know, I hate her. I hope her lash tech absolutely botches her next set, eyes swollen, no space between,” you huffed, and Chris laughed.

“That’s my girl, let it out.” he smiled, giving you a kiss on the cheek. “Is there anything else you’re still stressing about?”

You sighed. “That assignment. It’s making me nervous, even though I know I can do it. I just don’t want to.”

“You’re the smartest person I know,” Chris said honestly. “I don’t think there’s anything you’ve done to your ‘worst ability’ that anyone else could do to their best. It’s not everything, baby, I promise you.”

“It’s a sixth of my outcome-”

“Out of the other five parts that you’ve already smashed out. I’m always proud of you, you know that, and it’d make me proud to see you let yourself go a little. I’m here, you know, you can always tell me this stuff. I have the space in my mind for it if it starts to overflow from yours.”

You gave Chris a kiss on his nose, then his cheek, then his lips. “Thanks, baby.”

“It’s what I’m here for.” He hoisted you up, carrying you into the kitchen and setting you down on the counter. He stood between your legs, taking time to properly wipe your tears and press gentle kisses onto your lips. Chris tore off the foil lid of his pudding and dug his spoon in, pressing the cool metal against your mouth. You opened, smiling, letting the cool custard melt onto your tongue. It was comforting, not just the food, but sharing it with him.

He slung one arm around your waist, the other holding his spoon, taking a mouthful for himself then offering one to you. It felt good to have something substantial in your stomach; whilst Chris always made sure you ate properly when studying, you never gave yourself the time to actually enjoy the food, or to have something as a treat. Your stomach would cramp after the third coffee and the second energy drink, but now, it felt calm. 

“You’re too good to me,” you looked up at him, eyes shining.

“Nobody’s good enough to you, sweet girl,” Chris replied. “I wish I could stop everything and give you a moment to breathe. It’ll be over though, someday. I’ll make sure of it.”

“And we can live in a pretty house by the beach with a dog and make out all day?” you asked, giggling.

He smiled. “That’s the dream, baby.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “That’s the dream,” he repeated, pulling you in close.

taglist: @hyunjiiza @velvetmoonlght @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @btch8008s @yaniluvs @ellemir2404 @bellarellasstuff - comment, dm or send an ask to be added

[scary-grace]

(secret) santa, baby - part 9 of a shigaraki x f!reader fic

Shigaraki doesn't want to participate in the office's Secret Santa exchange, but when Toga promises to make it easy on him, he gives in. But making it easy for him makes it a lot harder for you -- you're the one who got his list. Office AU, no quirks. A fic in 12 parts. Divider by @ wcnderlnds

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi part vii part viii

part ix (snowed in)

When Tomura gets back to his desk, there’s a present waiting for him. Tomura’s Secret Santa doesn’t need REMEDIAL GIFT-WRAPPING, which means he can rule out anyone who was there as a suspect. Tomura peels open the wrapping paper and finds a pair of gloves – and a note. With the gifts, there’s always a note, and the notes have been getting longer. Whoever his Secret Santa is, they have more to say to him than they used to. Tomura’s weird enough that he likes the notes almost as much as he likes the gifts.

Dear Tomura, this one reads. I know I’m off-list again, but I saw these and they reminded me of you. A lot of the things I see remind me of you, but I think you’d be freaked out if I bought you most of them. I kind of want to ask Toga to ask you what you think of what you’ve gotten. If I’ve missed something obvious. Or if you’ve thought of other things you’d like since you made your list.

Tomura’s thought of other things, yeah. The problem is, he’s usually only thought of them after he’s opened a gift from his Secret Santa that has one of those things in it. Whoever his Secret Santa is, they’re good at this. Better than him, even if he knows how to wrap presents now. He keeps reading the note. I’d like to say I got the gloves in advance, but if I’m being honest, they’re extra. I saw the storm in the forecast and I thought about how cold it already gets down in the basement. I can think of better ways to keep your hands warm, but this is probably the most practical. Merry almost Christmas! Yours, your Secret Santa.

The gloves are lightweight when Tomura puts them on, but warm and soft on the inside – and they’re touchscreen gloves, so Tomura won’t have to take them off to use his tablet or his phone. They’re exactly right, just like all the other gifts Tomura’s Secret Santa has gotten him, but even as he folds the note and tucks it away in the same place he’s kept the others, he keeps getting stuck on the idea of other ways to warm his hands.

It’s fucking freezing in the basement, and it’s empty, even though it’s technically still work hours. Did everybody else just bail after the gift-wrapping thing?  If nobody else is here, Tomura’s not sticking around, either. He packs up his stuff and heads upstairs. Maybe he can get home before this storm or whatever it is kicks up in earnest. But when Tomura gets to the lobby, he finds out that he’s missed his window. The sky’s already darkened, and the parking lot is already covered in a layer of snow.

Tomura waited too long. If he hadn’t stuck around to wrap gifts with you – but even as he has the thought, he realizes that he doesn’t regret it even a little bit. It’s worth it, even if it means that he has to trudge through snow to the train station. You take the train home from work, too, don’t you? Tomura knows you had more work to do after the two of you finished the gifts. You told him so. What if you’re still here?

Your part of the office doesn’t have windows. Maybe you haven’t seen what the weather’s like. Tomura turns away from the front doors and heads back into the building to give you a heads-up.

You look surprised to see him, when he gets to your desk – but you aren’t unhappy. “Hey. Did you find, um – what are those?”

“The gloves? Secret Santa gift.” Tomura looks around your desk, trying to see if the gift he left you is anywhere. “Did you open yours?”

“Do you like them?”

“I’m wearing them.” If Tomura didn’t like them, he’d have put them in his desk and forgotten about them. He spots the stapled-shut paper bag he left for you this morning sticking out of your backpack. “Do you not like opening yours in front of people?”

“I was saving it so I’d have something to open tomorrow,” you say. “I heard somebody say that the office might be closed because of the storm.”

The snow. Right. There was a reason Tomura came up here, and it wasn’t just so he could see you again. “It’s already snowing. We should go now if we don’t want the trains to stop running on us.”

You look surprised. “You came to get me?”

“You take the train, too,” Tomura says. He doesn’t get why you’re looking at him like that. “We can walk together.”

“Okay,” you say. You smile at him, and Tomura’s face flushes badly enough that he actually considers covering it with his hands. “I’ll get my stuff.”

The weather looked bad when Tomura was just watching it through the doors, but once the two of you actually get out in it, Tomura realizes that it’s even worse than he thought. It’s the stupid wind. It keeps changing direction, blasting snow and ice crystals into his face no matter which way he looks, and the hood of his coat won’t stay up. His ears are freezing, even though his hair is covering them. It’s not a long walk to the train station, but Tomura knows he’ll have a splitting headache by the time he gets there.

“Here.” You’re wearing a hat and a scarf, and you take off the hat and offer it to Tomura. Tomura tries to say no, but you put it on him anyway, tugging it down over his ears. “I’m not the one who hates the cold.”

You’re right, but something about it strikes Tomura as weird. “How’d you know I hate the cold?”

“Everybody knows that.”

Tomura’s pretty sure everybody doesn’t. If they did, he’d get a lot more ironic let-it-snow shit from his friends around Christmas. There’s only one place you could have heard that, which means that you either know who his Secret Santa is – or it’s you. “Where did you hear that?”

“Sorry?” You’re rewrapping your scarf, pulling it up over your face. “Couldn’t hear you. The wind is really loud.”

The wind is loud and it’s getting worse. Tomura can ask you again once you’re at the train station and out of the weather. “Never mind. Let’s go.”

You and Tomura started out walking side by side. By the time you approach the train station, you’re walking pressed close together, your hand grasping Tomura’s arm, Tomura leaning into you as much as he can without falling over. Part of him feels stupid about it. You’re not fighting your way through a blizzard or something. The rest of him is too happy with it to care. His ears are warm and he’s wearing warm gloves that he got from his Secret Santa who might be you, and you decided you wanted to hold his arm without him doing anything. In spite of the weather, Tomura can’t count this as anything but a win.

The station platform is empty when you get there, and Tomura feels a hit of foreboding even before he sees that every arrival screen is flashing the same message. “Out of service?”

You fumble your phone out of your pocket, almost dropping it. “They just shut down. We missed it by five minutes.”

Fuck. “We can’t stay out here,” Tomura says, and you nod. You don’t have gloves. Your hands are shaking. “We should go back to the office.”

“They have to keep the heat on so the pipes don’t freeze,” you say. “And we can probably get the lights back on even if Maintenance turned them off.”

Tomura’s pretty sure Maintenance left before the two of you did. You were the last ones still in the building. Everybody else left because of the storm, and if Tomura had just left instead of going back to tell you, he’d have been on the last train home – and you’d have been stuck at the office in bad weather, by yourself. Tomura doesn’t like thinking about it. He doesn’t like thinking about it so much that even if he’d known for a fact that going back to get you would have meant he’d be snowed in with you, he’s sure he’d have gone anyway.

He waits for you to put your phone away, then grabs your hands in his gloved ones. “Do you want your hat back?”

“It looks better on you,” you say. There’s nothing on the planet that would look better on Tomura than on you, and Tomura almost says so, except the way you’re looking at him is enough of a distraction that he can’t get the words out in the right order. “Come on. Let’s get back before it gets worse.”

It’s already worse on the way back. There’s more snow on the ground and more ice crystals whipping around in the air, and Tomura’s shivering on every step. You aren’t walking with your hand on his arm anymore. This time you’ve got your arm wrapped around him, even though you’re shorter than he is, holding on tight as the two of you shuffle along. Tomura wants to get inside and out of the wind more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life. And at the same time, he’s dreading the second when you’ll let him go.

<- part viii part x ->

[elvensorceress]

sunday snippet

I meant to have this fic done ages ago but it's now somehow three times as long as it was, I've rewritten it five times, and I'm still working on it 🫠 oh well. have a snippet from snickerdoodles.

@tizniz @hippolotamus @eddiebabygirldiaz @daffi-990 @exhuastedpigeon @spotsandsocks @kejfeblintz @smilingbuckley @sofa-king-lame @chaosandwolves @smilingbuckley @belasmalhotra @bekkachaos @blutterlie @sazanahashi @livinginsunnyhell @epicbuddieficrecs @sparklespiff @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @dangerpronebuddie continued from Wednesday

Eddie tries again, but still sounds rough and hollowed out. “I don’t want to drag you down. Okay? You should move on and forget me and— and it’ll be better.”

Not so much for Eddie. He’s never let go of anything in his life. It’s all there hiding under the surface, stuffed in cages. But Buck should move on. Buck should survive him. 

Is this their only future? It feels like losing everything. Eddie is losing everything. He’s kidding himself if he thinks he hasn’t already lost Chris. What if Eddie doesn’t survive this time? What will happen to everyone he loves? Everyone who loves him?

Does anyone love him? Does he mean anything to anyone? Has he ever meant anything?

“Forget— I should forget you?” Buck snaps, his anger un-contained fire now, not just a hint of smoldering kindling. Vicious, spitting, sparking, living flames that will turn everything to ashes. 

Maybe they should actually fight and say awful things and then it would be easier to walk away. 

Eddie’s not sure he could even manage that right now. There’s nothing left in him. No fight, no fire. It’s all shattered, scattered pieces. But he would try. If Buck needs that. 

He might need that. He snaps again, “Like you’re a pair of socks that disappeared in the laundry? Or something I meant to pick up at the store and spaced? Like it’s easy? Like you’re nothing? Like this? Us? You and me? Means nothing?”

Okay, when he puts it that way… it sounds dumb. But how else can Eddie stop hurting him? “No,” Eddie says. Not fiery, not loud, not anything. “No. Just. Something that doesn’t—”

“You're my best friend. You— you’re— I’ll let you go. Okay. Whatever. I’ll do that because I know you and I know you need Chris and I get it. I wouldn’t want you to do anything but love him exactly the way you do. But I won’t, will not and can not pretend that you aren’t my best friend and my partner and the person I love more than anything. All right? I’m not going to do that. I’ve spend years—literal— almost a whole decade of years loving you more than anything. I’m not going to just forget that or forget you. I’m not throwing that way. I’m not ever going to lie and say otherwise. This is not a ‘move on and grow out of it’ scenario. I love you more than anything in the world. Okay? You told me I wasn’t expendable and I had to deal with that so you have to deal with this. You mean everything to me and I love you, and that isn’t going to change even when you leave.”

“—hurt you,” Eddie finishes. It doesn’t really sound finished now. He says it because he was already saying it. 

But that the fuck does he say now? 

Eddie doesn’t usually think of himself as small, quiet, or fragile. But he feels like that now. His feeble words sound like it even in his own ears. Small. Inconsequential. Torn apart.

Buck steps back toward him. Not enough that they’re touching, but enough that they’re closer. “Hurt me. Drag me down. I don’t care.”

Eddie recoils. No. No, he hates that idea. He is not doing that. Not intentionally. Not. What the fuck. 

He knows he said the words. He said them because his mother said them and they stuck and haven’t left his head or his heart and it’s all he does. Ruin people he loves. 

Buck shakes his head. “Be in the way. Burden me. Share whatever weight you’re carrying. Be something that stays even if you’re not here. Be part of my life even if it hurts. I don’t care if it hurts, I need you to be something to me. Having nothing of you would be a hundred, thousand, million times worse. I am in this with you. I always have been. Don’t shut me out just to spare me. If you’re facing the fire, I want to be right there with you. Please don’t make me lose everything of you. Please don’t— please. Don’t pretend this is nothing. I can take you leaving, I can’t take this,” he motions between them, “meaning nothing.”

Eddie stares and doesn’t move. And stares harder like it will help him understand. 

He knows he’s breathing still because there’s air. 

Maybe he’s not breathing. But something is making air flow in and out of his body. Like rescue breaths? Supplemental oxygen? It’s not Eddie doing it, he’s not taking in air, but it happens anyway. 

He doesn’t understand. Maybe he never has. Maybe his brain stopped processing information when he stopped breathing because the brain can’t function without oxygen. Something like that. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t. 

Buck wants something of him even after everything? After all the people who have walked out on him and treated him like he doesn’t matter? Even with how Eddie fails and hurts people who care about him? He means something to Buck? Even though he’s hurting him and abandoning him and losing him? Eddie’s just another person who leaves him. He can’t hurt Buck. He can’t keep doing it. Buck doesn’t deserve this. And Eddie deserves no loyalty, no forgiveness. 

He doesn’t deserve anyone’s love. Not in any form. He shouldn’t have it. He’s never had it. 

“I don’t—” Eddie tries to say. He has to say. He has to make the words come out. “I don’t want to hurt you the way Abby hurt you. I don’t want to do that.” 

Buck shakes his head again and starts to say something.

Eddie beats him to it. “I know it’s not the same. I know I’m not— I know you don’t— It’s different. Still. I know how she hurt you, and I don’t want to do that. I don’t know how to not do that. I’m leaving you here. In my house. Just like she did when she left you. And I have to—” Do the same fucking thing? Give him up? Walk away? Destroy everything they made together? And maybe the only way to survive is to do what Eddie does best and ruin everything? 

He looks back at Buck and doesn’t mean to say it. He wasn’t going to say anything. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t matter. He should be mean and nasty and he should tell Buck he means nothing, this means nothing, and then Buck can just be justifiably angry and hate Eddie properly. 

And it would spare him. Whatever pain and tragedy that is associated with being near Eddie. It would spare Buck. 

That’s what he should do. 

That would be mercy and kindness. Pick up the weapon and blow this all to hell. 

Eddie can’t breathe. He can’t do this. Any of it. 

He can’t let go. He can’t lose Buck. 

And then he’s suddenly confessing, “I don’t want to do this."

It’s too late. It’s always too late. And what he actually wants has never mattered. He doesn’t matter. He never has. He twists his hands together and has nothing else to hold onto. It’s too late, so none of this matters. Eddie doesn’t matter. But he meets Buck’s lost gaze, stares into his eyes for three seconds, and he can’t keep it in.

“I want to be with Chris. I miss him so much. Every minute of every day. But I don't want to leave here. I don't want this. But it doesn't matter what I want. It never has. The one time I said, 'What about me? Why didn't you think of me?' Chris left. He left because I hurt him. And my dad says, ‘don’t wait thirty years to listen to your son.’ So I listen. I don’t know what the hell else to do. I listen, and I do what all of them ask. Even when it’s the last thing I want and I’ve already said, no, please stop, I need more time, please hear me. They don’t listen to me. I’m still nothing to every single one of them. And I just keep thinking why don’t I ever count? Why don’t I matter even a little bit?

"You think you aren't everything to me, too? Do you think that I don't love you just as much as you love me? But I don’t get to pick you. I don’t get to have anything of you. I hurt everyone I try to love including you and Chris. I’m not enough for anyone, in any way. I can’t love anyone the way they need or the way I’m supposed to. You say you’re defective parts, well I’m fucking broken.

"That’s why you should forget me. I don’t matter. You shouldn’t care. I should mean nothing because I am nothing. I’m not worth this. If I were a better, stronger person, I’d make you hate me. But I can’t even do that. I don’t want to hurt you more. I have to lose you and I don’t know how to lose you. I love you more than anything and it’s not enough. I don’t know what else to do but say, you should move on and forget me.”

Eddie turns away and covers his face, tries to hold his head because it’s aching. It’s too much. That was too much. He’s not supposed to be falling apart. Everything is supposed to be getting better. 

Shards of ice crack and fracture and break underneath him. Everything in the cage around his ribs snaps and he’s crying into his hands, trying to keep it together. Trying and failing. Always failing. His face is already wet. He was already broken. A long time ago. So many times. 

Buck is suddenly behind him. Not distant. Close behind him. He touches Eddie’s back gently and then steps around until he’s standing in front of him. He reaches between them and rests his hand on Eddie’s chest. As if he can stop the never-ending bleeding that’s somehow always pouring from Eddie’s heart. “You are enough, Eddie. You’re more than enough."

[winchesterwild78]

On the Twelfth Day of Christmas

Master List

Characters:  Jensen x Reader

Warnings: mention of divorce, angst, self esteem issues, fluff

A/N: Day 12 of my holiday fics. I hope you enjoy this short series. I’m really excited about it. All work is my own, please don’t take it. Reblogs and likes are welcomed. 

This is a work of FICTION. Jensen is divorced from Danneel. If you don’t like that, then don’t read it. Sorry, but shit happens in life, and this was a story that popped in my head to round out this Christmas Series. 

Written fast and edited fast, please overlook any errors. 

Minors DNI 18+

Jensen was gone filming in Toronto. His parents were flying in tomorrow and his siblings and their families a day after that. Jensen and I were hosting Christmas this year at our house in Connecticut. We decided to stay so we could be closer to the kids for the holiday. 

Since Jensen and Danneel got divorced the holidays were always a bit tricky to navigate. Things got a little more tense when Jensen and I got married, but I try to keep things cordial with Danneel for the sake of the kids. 

I was sitting on the couch working on my laptop when my phone rang. I saw it was Jensen and smiled. 

“Hey baby. How’s filming?” “Hey sweetheart, it’s going well. I hope we wrap for the holiday soon. I don’t want to miss the kids’ performances and I can’t wait to be back home with you.”

“Me either baby. Are you guys behind?” “A little. It’s frustrating, but that’s usually how it goes when I want to wrap early or on time. I’ll keep you posted. Mom and Dad will be there in time to go with you though.” 

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it. I know the kids are excited about seeing them.” 

“Well darlin’, I’m needed back on set. I love you and I’ll see you soon.” “I love you too, Jens.” 

We hung up and I sat in the silence of the house. It was about a week until Christmas and the house was decorated with beautiful colors, twinkle lights, and gifts under the tree.

I missed Jensen, but I was so incredibly proud of his work. I just hoped he’d be home in time for the kids’ concert and play, and of course Christmas. 

The next morning I got up early to get Jensen’s parents from the airport. His father was always very quiet and reserved around me, but his mother was always so sweet and welcoming. The first time I met her she hugged me and told me she knew Jensen was in love with me.

A few hours later we were walking through the door and I showed Alan and Donna the guest room they would be staying in. “I hope this is to your liking. There are extra towels in the bathroom, and extra toiletries under the sink. If you need anything, let me know.” 

Donna stepped towards me, “It’s perfect sweetie, thank you. Just take a deep breath. Everything is going to be fine.” I nodded and offered her a soft smile. 

I sent Jensen a text.

Me: Your parents are here safe and sound. Your mom said Josh and his family and Mackenzie and her family are still coming tomorrow. I love you.

I started cooking dinner a few hours later. Alan was watching the Dallas game and Donna was in the kitchen helping me. I still hadn’t heard back from Jensen and I was a little sad. 

Donna must have sensed it because she placed her hand on my arm, “Y/N, these shoots right before a holiday break can stretch on for hours. I’m sure he’s just been tied up on set.”

I nodded. She was right, but it didn’t stop the pang in my chest. I love Jensen’s family and his kids, but the thought of doing all of this and facing Danneel without him just makes me sad and a little anxious. 

I was busy cooking and didn’t hear my phone. “Y/N, I think your phone went off.” Donna smiled.

I looked at the screen and saw a notification from Jensen and smiled. Donna saw and smiled too. “See I told you, sweetie.” I nodded and opened my phone. 

Jensen: Hey baby. Sorry it’s been a long day. Thanks for holding down the fort. Don’t let Josh tell you I was the trouble maker growing up, because he was. 😂 I miss you so much. We are close to wrapping. I hope I can make it back in time for the kids’ shows. I’ll call you later. I love you.

I smiled and set my phone down. “Mom, before Josh gets here I need to know, which one was the trouble maker, Josh or Jensen?” She laughed, “Jensen told you Josh was, didn’t he?” I nodded. 

“Well sweetie, both of them kept me on my toes. Especially after Mac was born. They became very protective of her and were trying to be her favorite brother.” “That’s sweet. So, which one became her favorite?” “She never really said, but I know she’s always had a soft spot for Jensen. He was seven when she was born and he doted on her. He was finally a big brother and stepped into that role so easily.”

“I can really see him doing that. He’s always been so amazing no matter what his role is, but especially when it comes to family. He’s an amazing father and husband. I know how incredibly lucky I am to have him in my life. Like Jensen, my previous marriage didn’t work out, so both of us came into this relationship with walls. Jensen has an undeniable charm that can break down any wall.” 

Alan asked for a beer from the living room and Donna smirked. She handed me the beer, “Here, from what Jensen says you’re pretty great at breaking down walls too. Go break that wall down. Deep down Alan does care about you, he’s just guarded.” I nodded and took the beer. 

I took a deep breath. I know Jensen’s relationship with his father is important, so it’s important to me to have a good relationship with him too. I walked into the living room and handed Alan the beer. He looked up at me, “Thanks.” I nodded. I looked at the television and saw the Cowboys were winning. Lucky for me I had always liked them and saw this as an in. 

I started out by testing the water with questions about the game, and before too long we were talking about the season and things seemed lighter. I excused myself to check on dinner and found Donna in the kitchen smiling. 

I touched her arm, “Thank you.” She smiled and nodded. 

The next two days were a blur. Josh, Mackenzie and their families came into town and tonight was the night of the kids’ performances. Jensen still wasn’t home, and it broke my heart. 

His kids are everything to him and to miss something like this was no doubt breaking his heart. I tried to call him, but it went right to voicemail.

We all got ready and headed to the school for the performances. As we walked up to the school I saw JJ, Arrow, and Zeppelin standing outside looking around with Danneel. Donna took my hand and gave me a little squeeze. “You’ve got this, and you’ve got all of us.” I nodded. 

I walked over to them and made eye contact with Danneel. “Mama Y/N! Grammy and Papa! You came!” JJ squealed first when she saw us. Arrow and Zeppelin followed her as hugs were exchanged. The kids looked around and I saw their faces fall a little. 

Before I could say anything Danneel stepped forward, “So I see his children aren’t a priority anymore and he sent you instead. You will never be what I was to him no matter how hard you try. I give your relationship 5 years tops before he finds someone better, someone worthy. You’re just his rebound honey.” 

I gasped and felt a pang in my chest. I had always felt a little out of place in his life. He was Jensen freaking Ackles, and I was just Y/N, a fan he met and we hit it off. 

Before I could say anything I heard a deep voice from behind me. It startled me. “Enough! Don’t speak to her like that, especially in front of these children. She means more to Jensen than you ever did or will. Believe me, she’s more than a rebound. Y/N is the love of his life, his wife and you will treat her with respect.” I couldn’t believe my ears or my eyes. The man coming to my defense was Alan. I looked at him and he offered me a soft smile. I mouthed, ‘thank you’, and he nodded. 

Danneel backed off and told the kids to come on. Before they walked away I knelt down, “Guys, daddy is trying really hard to get here. I promise you that’s all he’s talked about the past few days. If he’s not here I’m going to record it and show it to him. He’s so proud of the three of you, and he loves you three more than anything.” They hugged me tightly and JJ whispered, “Thank you.” I nodded and they went into the school with Danneel. 

We followed and took our seats. I looked at my phone one last time before silencing it. There was still no message or missed call from Jensen. My heart broke for the kids and for him. He hated missing anything they did. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Danneel sitting a few rows back with her boyfriend, glaring at me. I turned back and looked towards the stage.

The house lights turned off and everyone clapped. I grabbed my phone to record when a low voice was beside me, “Is this seat taken?” I turned and looked up seeing Jensen. 

“Jensen! You’re here. Oh my god!” I jumped up and threw my arms around him and kissed him. He chuckled, “Sweetheart we need to sit. They are about to start.” 

Jensen sat between me and his mother. He glanced over at his family and looked back at Danneel who was shocked to see him. The first to perform was JJ. She was singing with the chorus and had a solo. After her performance we applauded and Jensen yelled, “Way to go J bird.” She beamed because she knew it was Jensen.

After the twins play Jensen was beaming with pride. We met them backstage and the kids leaped in Jensen’s arms. “Daddy, you made it!” Danneel stood to the side with a scowl on her face. 

“Nothing could ever keep me away from you three. I love you guys so much and I’m so proud of you. Now, let’s go get something to eat. I’m starving.” 

We all laughed and headed towards the cars. Danneel was going home and the kids were going to stay at our house. We all went out to dinner and of course Jensen was noticed by some fans. As I watched his interactions with the fans my mind kept replaying everything Danneel said to me. Then I saw her. 

The beautiful, young woman who went to every convention, every party open to the public and everyone knew who she was. Jensen knew her by name too. 

She was stunning and the way she hugged him and he leaned into her made my breath hitch. 

She’s studying to be an actress and she’s a musician. Young and absolutely beautiful. 

Jensen’s laugh filled the air and I saw her hand on his chest. The sting of tears filling my eyes and my heart aching. 

“Daddy, come on we’re starving” the kids said. She looked over at them, “oh my goodness, Jensen. The kids have gotten so big. Hey guys I don’t know if you remember me, but I remember meeting you guys a few years ago. Y'all have grown so much.” Jensen introduced her to everyone there except me. I sat there with the hole in my heart growing. 

Jensen and her continued talking for a while longer and the pain in my chest just grew. 

We had all sat down to order while Jensen continued talking. Donna leaned over, squeezed my hand and said, “Remember he loves his fans, but he loves you more.” I looked at her with tears in my eyes, “I hope so. Um, excuse me for a moment.” 

I stood and walked to the bathroom as the tears fell. How could he forget to introduce me? Was Danneel right? Was I just a rebound? 

When I returned to the table the food had arrived and Jensen was finally at the table. There was an opened gift next to him on the table. 

I looked at it and then at him. He leaned over as I sat down, “Are you okay?” I just nodded. 

Donna gave my hand a gentle squeeze and smiled softly. 

After we ate we drove back to the house. I kept looking at Jensen who had a huge smile plastered on his face and my eyes flicked down to the gift. 

“Jens, what’s in the gift?” “Oh she had a collage made of us to hang on the wall.” “Oh that’s sweet, but how did she get pictures of us?” “Oh no, pictures of her and I.” 

I swallowed hard and felt the sting of the tears, “Oh.” 

Jensen must have noticed the crack in my voice, “Baby, what’s wrong?” I shook my head and looked out the window. 

The tears started to fall. I tried not to let Danneel’s words get to me, but maybe she was right. She had been married to him for over a decade, and I definitely looked different than her and the other women he had dated. 

When we pulled up at home I put a smile on my face as we walked towards the door. 

Jensen handed Josh the keys and told him he’d be in the house in a minute. Josh looked at me and then Jensen and nodded. Donna took the kids inside and before she left she leaned in and said something to Jensen. He nodded. 

Taking my hand he asked me to wait. 

Once everyone had gone inside Jensen pulled me back inside the warmth of the car. 

“Baby, please talk to me. You’ve been crying all night. What can I do to help you?” 

I swallowed hard and looked down at my lap. I couldn’t look at him. “I just let Danneel get in my head, then I saw you at the restaurant with her and how you both were acting towards each other made me a little jealous and sad. It looked like you were flirting with her. Then you introduced her to everyone except me. Like you were embarrassed to admit you were married to me. If you’ve changed your mind about me, about us then please tell me. I’ll be okay, but I need to know.”

By the time I stopped talking the tears were falling hard and fast. 

Jensen’s breath was shaky. He grabbed my hand. “Oh baby. No, I love you and I haven’t changed my mind about us, and I never will. I’m so sorry I made you feel that way. Mom told me what Danneel said to you. Dad was right, you are the love of my life. You’re not a rebound. I’ve loved you from the moment I met you. You’re everything to me and if you asked me to, I'd give up everything to stay by your side forever.” He leaned forward to kiss me, but stopped, waiting for me to close the distance. “And as far as why I didn’t introduce you, it’s because she knows who you are. I talk about you all the time and her and I have talked about you and how much I love you. I’m sorry sweetheart.” “Jensen, I don’t want you to give anything up, I just need to stop letting her get in my head.”

I leaned forward, closing the distance between us and kissed him. The kiss was soft at first, but then deepened and became full of need. His hands trailed down my body and I moaned. 

“Jens.” I needed him. My arousal soaked my panties and I could feel his through his pants. 

He pulled me on his lap as we continued kissing. The rest of the world disappeared around us. At that moment it was just Jensen and I. 

Things were getting hot and heavy as his phone went off. He groaned against me and looked at his phone. 

“Josh, you’re kinda interrupting something.” Jensen laughed at whatever Josh said. “Yeah, we’re on our way in.” 

He hung up and chuckled, “We should go inside. I promise we will finish this later.” He kissed me again as I climbed off his lap. 

We walked towards the house holding hands, “I love you, Y/N. So much.” “I love you too, Jensen.” 

Walking into the house we were greeted with the sounds of laughter and children playing. Josh walked up to us laughing, “Alright you two, next time maybe climb in the backseat. I swear you two are like teenagers.” 

My face flushed red and Jensen laughed, “You’re just jealous you didn’t think about making out with Ali in the car.” They both laughed. 

Later that night as Jensen and I went to bed he pulled me into his arms. “I believe we were right about here.” Jensen said as he pulled me onto his lap. I giggled as he kissed down my neck and his hands trailed over my body. 

Jensen took his time with me tonight. We reconnected and my heart filled with so much love. As he pulled me close to his side and my head rested on his chest I felt all the love he had for me. “Jens, I’m sorry. Sorry I let her get in my head and I spiraled from there. You just got home and tonight should have been a happy homecoming, not one filled with tears.” 

He turned his head and looked at me, “Hey, this is part of life. D has always had a way of getting under people’s skin, she just knows how to cause chaos. I love you and only you. You’re it for me. I’m not going anywhere and I wake up every day thankful to have found you. You’re my calm in the chaos and the love of my life. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life proving to you how grateful I am for you, for us. I love you, Y/N. Today, tomorrow, forever.” 

A tear slipped out as I took in a deep, shaky breath. “I promise to work on letting her get to me. I wake up every day still in disbelief that you chose me. I never thought I’d find my home, the love of my life until I met you. Jensen you wear so many hats in your life and so many people depend on you. I want to be the one person in your life you can lean on, depend on. I love you, Jensen, today, tomorrow, forever. And I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life proving to you that you mean so much to me. I’m so glad you’re home, now we can focus on us and family. This Christmas is going to be one of the best in my life because I get to spend it with you and surrounded by family.” 

Jensen placed a kiss on my lips, “I can’t wait to spend this Christmas with you and our family too. This will be the first Christmas in a long time where I have everyone I love and care about under one roof. Thank you, Y/N for making it happen.” 

I nodded and smiled, “Good night Jens, I love you.” “Good night, sweetheart. I love you too.”

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[steviewashere]

I can't share anything from my steddie holiday exchange fic just yet, but I thought I'd share a snippet from a WIP that I've got right now.

CW: Eddie has Contamination OCD, Eddie has ARFID

———————

He’s biting his tongue. Even as he cuts through the left side of the breast, slow and meticulous. If it’s too messy of a cut, he won’t be able to see the inside. If he can’t see the inside, he can’t judge the color. No say of what the color is, then he isn’t sure about putting it in his mouth.

Steve’s across from him, already dabbing away at sauce on his lips, teeth grinding against each other as he chews. Eddie is still cutting the meat.

“Y’alright?” Steve asks him around his mouthful.

Eddie briefly glances up. “I’m fine,” he shorts. The knife finally makes contact with his plate, screeching against the porcelain. His fork piercing the freed slab, holding it up close to his face, under the light in Steve’s dining room. The only plus side of this house is the lighting, bright and shiny and perfect for Eddie to use. Usually.

He spins the fork.

It’s pink, a part of him notes, it’s still pink don’t put it in your—No, see, it’s white, that same part says, it’s white right there. It’ll be white everywhere, Steve made it.

Steve cuts his own food again, takes another hearty bite.

Eddie turns the fork once more.

But what if it’s just this one piece that’s perfect? What if Steve didn’t cook the rest of it long enough? He audibly takes a deep breath, his chest filling with it, stomach flipping. Eddie scrapes the piece off his fork, knife dictating it to one side of his plate, and he begins to cut up the rest of the chicken.

“Was that piece not”—

“I’m just checking,” Eddie rushes out. His wrists work faster through the next piece. Turning it. Pink. Next piece. Faster. Flipping it. Pinker. He rests his forearms against the table, wrists going limp over his plate, face tilted towards the ceiling as his eyes close and he breathes again.

Distantly, he calculates the rattling of his chair from his leg bouncing. The tick of the clock. Steve’s chewing. And chewing and chewing and—

He picks up the first piece of chicken and inspects it again, cutting it into smaller, more individual chunks.

What if Steve purposefully didn’t cook it right? What if he’s mad at you for something and this is how he shows it? What if he took the only good piece? What if he didn’t wash the turners and the cutting board and the—

“Ed?” Steve calls out to him. “Do you want me to check, baby?”

Eddie minutely shakes his head. Mumbles, “No, I got it. Don’t worry about it.”

Did he wash his hands? What if he didn’t wash his hands before washing the green beans? And the rolls? Did he heat them up in the same pan as the chicken? The mashed potatoes, do they have chicken in them? The chicken is touching your mashed potatoes right now. The pink chicken is touching your fresh mashed potatoes. Keep cutting the chicken, it’s hard to see if it’s white. What if it isn’t white at all? The chicken is touching your mashed—

He chucks the utensils down onto the table. Hands flying up to cover his eyes, fingers tensing into his hairline. His legs jitter under the table, stomach backflipping into his ribcage, mouth drooling like he’s nauseous. The heels of his palms press hard into his eye sockets, hard enough he can’t see anything aside from the brown-black that exists there. And his breaths wheeze out of him, shaky and unsure.

The rolls could be moldy. Did you check to see if they were moldy? What if Steve cut off the moldy parts? Mold rolls and pink chicken, he must be really mad at you. You did something. The chicken is probably touching your mashed potatoes still, don’t eat the potatoes. The potatoes could’ve been moldy, you didn’t see the potatoes Steve used. What if it’s all moldy? Steve is eating it, though. Steve is eating it. Steve is eating the moldy food and the undercooked chicken. Steve is going to get sick. He’s going to get sick. You’re going to get sick. Steve is eating it and eating it and he doesn’t know, he can’t see it like you can. You’re crazy, you’re just being crazy. It’s moldy. All of it is moldy. It’s raw. The chicken is raw and it’s touching your potatoes. They’re touching. Steve is eating it. Steve is eating the chicken. Steve is eating it. He’s going to get sick. You’re dramatic, just crazy. You’re being crazy. He can’t see it like you can. He’s eating it. You’re crazy. Crazy, you’re just—

“I can’t,” Eddie chokes out, words clogged in congestion and sniffles. “‘M sorry, Steve. ‘M sorry, I’m so sorry,” he weeps softly.

———————

[darsynia]

Forgiven: joYOUs | CEO Steve/f!Reader series Part III

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE MASTERLIST | Ro Roll | Prev Fic

Summary: You and Steve Rogers have been dating for a little over two months, and it's been wonderful. Through it all you've asked yourself if it could possibly be real--but when he finally invites you to stay over at his apartment, you realize that being 'real' has as much to do with his complicated issues at work as it does being a Hallmark movie protagonist brought to life.

WC/Warnings: 5,200 // explicit sex

As 6/7 of my Ro Roll badly-belated-birthday fics for @ronearoundblindly, joYOUs is part III in my CEO Steve and f!Freader series. This story also (more lightly than intended) is written for the 'first fall of snow' prompt for @the-slumberparty's December Daze!

Can be read standalone!

Excerpt:

“I have a confession to make,” Steve says in an apologetic tone.

Your mind springs to swift and miserable action: Somehow his good guy persona is a sham and he’s actually a real-life Christian Grey (honestly, you’d try it). This is all a bet and your naive honesty is embarrassing (horrifyingly plausible)...

Steve says, “--happened to it, I have no idea what, but the food’s ruined. We’re going to have to get take-out.”

His warm apologetic tone heats your fears into float-away steam, and you rush to reconnect with reality. “I’m sorry that happened, but I’m here for you, not your food,” you stammer out, only fully hearing what you’ve said once it’s already out there. “Shit, that came out--”

“--perfectly,” Steve laughs.

Joyous

You’ve tried not to read anything into the 36 hours of no-contact since Steve left on his business trip. He had warned you that he would be ‘can’t check the phone’ kind of busy, but you also know that his stress has ramped up considerably with the holidays coming up. You suspect that the café project hadn’t been enough of a respite--but you’d promised yourself not to push him too hard about his burnout, and that includes acting like it’s no big deal that you haven’t talked for a while. 

Just normal early relationship stuff, really.

That all drops away like an uncomfortable bra after a long day at work when you get a text at 10 PM Friday night.

🪴🪴🪴: We still on for tomorrow at 7? I’ve been thinking about you since the plane took off from LaGuardia.

🪴🪴🪴: Whoops i

🪴🪴🪴: was only supposed to send that first part.

🪴🪴🪴: Hit enter too e

🪴🪴🪴: Buck give me back the phone. Don’t send her anything, okay? You’re hopeless, man. You have to leave some mystery. If she had any idea how much you talked about her while we were gone, she’d probably quit her job and leave the state. What’s. Oh shit it’s recording. How do I make it. Give it back. Bucky I mean it just put it down before you screwdriver

Screwdriver?

The (thrilling) mess of words take a minute or two to detangle, and once you parse the dictated back-and-forth, you realize that Steve’s subsequent silence is probably mortification. Adorable mortification.

The phone rings on silent mode, buzzing wildly in your hand. Surprise makes you drop it on your lap like it’s alive-- which it might as well be, because the vibration sends it jittering across your indulgent silk pajamas and onto the floor.

“Shit!” you gasp out, knowing that any delay in answering will probably make everything much worse. You scramble off the bed in a move so inelegant your sister calls out asking if you’ve joined her in Broken Leg Land. “I’m fine, just an idiot!” you holler, finally grabbing the phone from your crumpled position on the bedroom floor.

“That’s not true at all!” Steve Rogers’ voice echoes from the speakers. You must have  brushed the ‘answer’ part when you picked it up, because of course that would happen.

“Oh my god, is there a deity of phones I’ve badly wronged today?” you gasp out, bringing the thing gingerly up to your ear. Thankfully, he’s chuckling, and damn, it’s sexy.

“Seems like it. Should we call this a draw?” he suggests, adding, “I evicted the phone thief, sorry about that. He just wants what’s best for me.”

“Which would be… screwdrivers?” you offer, grinning despite your rational brain screaming at you not to sound overeager. “You somehow don’t strike me as an orange juice and vodka kind of guy.”

“You’re right, and that was a nice deflect.” There’s gratitude as well as sheepishness in Steve’s voice. When paired with the ‘forbidden truths’ in the dictated texts, you may be sitting on the floor in twisted-up PJs, but your mind and heart are floating on a cloud somewhere high above Manhattan. “Should I send a car tomorrow?”

Surprise snarls the response in your throat into a twisted um-cough combo that is entirely indelicate. “Sorry, yes, that, yes,” you manage, kicking yourself. He runs a company, having a car service probably doesn’t seem impersonal to him, even though he’s always picked you up or met you somewhere before this. The Maiden Aunt in your brain tries to argue that the magic is over, but she’s drowned out by College TA, who thinks this is a step up in statistical importance.

Some girls get a devil on their shoulder, but you ended up with a pessimist and an overachiever.

“How about a do-over,” Steve says, interrupting your mental chaos. “Can I pick you up tomorrow?”

“Yes!” you say in a flood of relief. “I’m sorry, you said ‘send a car’ and all I could picture was one of those movies where someone in livery holds up a piece of paper with my name--”

He interrupts before you can gnaw past the foot in your mouth and up onto the ankle.

“I don’t mind driving, don’t worry. See you at seven, then.” With that, CEO Eye, Ear, and Heart Candy hangs up, leaving you in a flustered, anticipatory mess on the floor in your bedroom.

Jennie gives you relentless shit over that whole sequence of events, but she also gives you access to her closet. You’ve already run through your handful of fancy dresses on dates with Steve, and everything else gives you ‘someday I might go clubbing’ or ‘student on a budget’ vibes.

Your sister’s tastes run more expensive than yours, and she’s always been a fan of modular clothing-- skirts that wrap around, blouses with 3x as much fabric as necessary that end up folding and twisting into a masterpiece, etc. It’s worked out well for her while she’s laid up with a broken leg, but the unusual style might help you keep up appearances. You choose a black form-fitting pants topped with a silky wraparound blouse; hopefully they’ll look sophisticated enough for your first visit to Steve’s apartment.

True to form, Jennie makes three ‘wrapped present’ jokes about the two ribbon-tied sections of your shirt before you make it out the door.

Steve is waiting beside his car when you come outside. He’s clearly come from work, wearing tailored trousers and a crisp white shirt that looks so good you’re practically overheating in the brisk winter air. Then he smiles at you, and your body takes a detour from ‘visit to Arizona’ straight down to ‘the Brazilian Rainforest,’ all innuendo included.

Oblivious to your secretly disrespectful ogling, Steve moves to escort you to your car door, standing deliciously close by as he opens it. His aftershave smells heady and masculine, distracting enough that you turn your heel a little bit on the seam of the sidewalk. Your unbuttoned coat swings back and his hand moves to steady you, fingers tangling in the red ribbon holding your blouse together on that side.

“Oh!” you gasp, half because of his sheer strength and half because good god, if that bow comes undone on the street you’re not sure how much you’re even going to care right now. You gently grasp his hand (finding that, yep, the sizzling live wire connection on physical contact is still active), salvaging the knot for the sake of your sanity.

“Wow,” Steve breathes in a low voice that sends its resonance whizzing through your whole body. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you murmur intelligently.

You’re never going to tell your sister how many mental seconds it’s taken you to go from 0 to head over heels for this man.

“Do you need me to adjust the buckle? You were making a face,” Steve explains.

“Oh, no, I was coming up with something suitably embarrassing to text my nagging sister so she doesn’t send me ‘romantic suggestions’ all night,” you admit. “She means well, but I think she’s been watching too many Hallmark Christmas movies. Nothing I do or say will measure up!”

He chuckles. “I won’t comment on what my own nag might have to say on the outcome of the evening.”

“You mean the professional phone thief? He owes you, not the other way around! Telling secrets on dictation while your friend’s planning to bring a girl home-- and then sending it? Hung, drawn, and quartered.”

“Well, the method of delivery may have been terrible,” Steve says, looking over at you while paused at a red light, “--but none of that was a secret.”

The light changes, and just like Jennie’s favorite movies, he holds your gaze instead of driving on. You’re suddenly very aware of everywhere your clothing touches you, especially at your chest, where the fabric of your blouse clings to your curves. When you pull in a breath, Steve’s attention dips down to appreciate them, too.

“Eyes on the road, CEO Eye Candy,” you tease (not for the first time), and his expression scrunches up into easy laughter.

There’s an older, well-dressed couple in the parking garage to his building when you arrive, and the four of you ride the elevator up together until you and Steve step out. Just before the doors close, you catch the woman looking up at her husband fondly, nodding toward the two of you. No pressure! you think to yourself again, but then Steve opens the door to his apartment and smiles with such honest happiness that you forget everything else but him.

Just like he is, the main room is a charming mix of vintage and modern, with warm wood accents and high-tech amenities. There’s something both open and intimate that hits you right away; the floor is dotted with comforting rugs, the walls with bookcases, creating cozy little nooks, but the lamplight is warm and inviting throughout.

“I need to start the oven,” Steve says with a light touch to your arm, gesturing to take your coat. You nod and hand it over before you step farther in, finally letting yourself glance beyond the bookshelves of classics and the homey crochet afghan to the view. 

It’s completely captivating. The wall of windows face east, showing the lively cityscape to glorious effect (and you can’t help but picture what the sunrise would look like!). It suddenly hits you that you’re in Steve’s space. There are no phones to ring and save you from a misstep, no waitress to break the tension, no dog running past chasing its ball in the grass.

If he sees just how far gone you are on him already, will Steve think you’re a gold-digger, or will he understand that you can’t help but be dazzled and drawn in by the kind of man he is, not the things he surrounds himself with?

“Are you all right?” Steve asks. You startle, making eye contact with his reflection in the window, and something about the intimacy of that makes you tell the absolute truth.

“I’m realizing there are no flowerpots to hide behind.”

He smiles and moves closer, one hand casually in his pocket. When he’s just near enough that you can feel his warmth through the back of your blouse, Steve tips his head in a move that bleeds sincerity, still holding your gaze.

“What if you didn’t have to hide?”

You can’t look away. “What if that doesn’t make me any less shy?”

“Makes it all the more rewarding to earn that smile of yours,” Steve says, moving to face you instead of the view.

The weight of where you are, who you’re with, and how much it means to you keeps your gaze glued to the view outside the window, but the city lights blur a little with the frequency of your blinking. You want to reassure him that the shyness is good actually, that it means you really like him, that what he thinks about you is important--

“I have a confession to make,” Steve says in an apologetic tone.

Your mind springs to swift and miserable action: Somehow his good guy persona is a sham and he’s actually a real-life Christian Grey (honestly, you’d try it). This is all a bet and your naive honesty is embarrassing (horrifyingly plausible)...

Steve says, “--happened to it, I have no idea what, but the food’s ruined. We’re going to have to get take-out.”

His warm apologetic tone heats your fears into float-away steam, and you rush to reconnect with reality. “I’m sorry that happened, but I’m here for you, not your food,” you stammer out, only fully hearing what you’ve said once it’s already out there. “Shit, that came out--”

“--perfectly,” Steve laughs. You can’t help but toss him the Skeptical Eyebrow, despite your heart voting on the ‘melt’ option. “I’m being serious,” he goes on. “Honesty is in rare supply for much of my day-to-day. Suppliers expect us to push for cheaper materials, manufacturers are uncomfortable with flexible deadlines, and we’ve fired multiple product designers who get upset by how much we rely on end-user feedback.” He lets out a long sigh, punctuating it with a rueful laugh. “I felt more relaxed with the construction crew than I do with my so-called ‘peers.’”

The frustrated defeat in his tone makes you step close to tuck yourself up against his side, hugging him with an arm around his back. Steve’s arm comes around you right away, and god, you wish you could bottle that feeling. The two of you have shared quite a few toe-curling kisses, but physical affection like this is exciting, despite being prompted by Steve’s ongoing business concerns.

It’s easy to believe that this part of your life isn’t real when you’re at work answering phones and giving directions. You’re never prepared for the way Steve tips your life upside down, and in a way that makes moments like this more magical. Late at night, you do sometimes worry your job at his company makes it harder for him to disconnect.

With his heartbeat thrumming under your cheek and his arm tucked around you, that concern feels as far away as the streetlights visible across the city. There’s still a thread of tenseness in his embrace that tells you he’s not as relaxed as you are. You might not have the money to take him out for a fancy dinner or attend an exclusive event, but you can show him he’s wanted.

“So what you’re saying is that we should brainstorm another building project for the lobby? Preferably within sightlines of the front desk?”

You get to feel his laugh before you hear it.

“Oh, I wish. I’ve actually started looking into Habitat For Humanity, a couple of other hands-on charities,” Steve tells you, squeezing you tighter against him for a second or two. “They’ve got experience with higher profile contributors, safety concerns, that sort of thing.”

The moment hangs. Humor isn’t enough.

“That doesn’t solve the underlying problem though, because the problem isn’t you,” you realize aloud.

“You’re right.” Steve kisses your hairline, but you can sense that his metaphorically held breath isn’t going to release like this. You’re struck by the rightness of your reflection; the two of you fit together so well visually that it’s easy to miss his job insecurities and your uncertain future. Movement beyond the surface catches your eye, and you realize it’s the perfect way to break the tension.

“Oh! It’s snowing!”

“Those are some giant snowflakes.” He hugs you to him briefly before stepping over to a small panel on the wall. “May I?”

The more time you spend with him, the braver you feel. “I’m going to say yes, even though I don’t know what you’re asking.”

Steve’s answering smile is blindingly handsome. “Watch,” he says, nodding to the view. A second later the lights in the room dim or shut off, heightening the glowing cityscape outside. There’s a beauty to the familiar hodgepodge of buildings, more so with the fairy dust of snow drifting down from above.

“It’s like a snowglobe,” you say, tearing your eyes away from the scene to look at Steve. To your surprise, he’s not looking outside, he’s looking at you.

“May I?” he asks again. Heart pounding, you nod, and he walks toward you, his features thrown into sharp relief by the dim light. When Steve finally reaches you, the anticipation has doused you with fuel set alight by the touch of his hand at your cheek. 

This kiss is nothing like the gentle exploration that was your first with Steve. Where then you were still learning each other, this is knowledge. He lifts you up against him effortlessly, his thumb tangling with the ties of your blouse in a way that pulls it taut against your breasts. You let out a gasp as he kisses his way down from your neck over to the neckline of your blouse, making a begging sound of his own.

It sounds like enough of a ‘May I?’ that you whisper, “Yes.”

In three large strides he’s at the couch, setting you onto your feet as he sweeps the afghan and pillows out of the way. When he turns to face you again, you offer him the end of the ribbon tie holding your blouse together.

The reverence with which Steve pulls it loose is sexy as hell, but you absolutely adore the way he locks eyes with you and keeps your gaze when the fabric falls away. You pull in a ragged breath, and his gaze sharpens.

“What do you want?” he asks, his own answer ringing in the undertones.

You want everything, as far into the future as fate allows, but you force yourself to focus on the here and now. “I-- God, I just want you. I want-- oh!” You press your lips together to stop yourself, shy again. There’s honesty, and then there’s honesty. In that confident but gentle way he has, Steve knows exactly what to say.

“Whatever it is, yes.”

He takes your hand and backs the few inches to the couch, sitting down and tugging gently, a clear but respectful invitation. Steve takes a few seconds to just look at you, his eyes tracing across your features and down to the structure of your blouse. He’d mentioned his sketchbook at one of your early-on dates but never elaborated; now the way he unerringly follows each ribbon with his eyes, fingertips, and then lips make you feel like a work of art.

By the time your shirt drops to the floor, you’re practically drunk on the honest arousal you can taste on his lips--and you’re still mostly dressed! One thing you’re certain of: no one will ever make you feel as much like a medieval harlot and an object of worship at the same time like Steve Rogers.

Reluctantly, you draw back from his addictive kisses, pulling his hand from your cheek to briefly kiss his palm. “I’m going to ask you something, and you’re going to answer me without trying to smooth anything over, got it?”

Steve’s gaze darkens with an amused sort of interest. “I’ll see where you’re going with this, but you should know that there are two places I like to be in charge: the boardroom and the bedroom.”

His tone is gentle, but with an undercurrent of steel. You’re completely unable to stop the way your breath catches and your thighs clench. Sweet fires of hell, this man is perfect.

“It’s a deal,” you manage to squeak out.

“Go on, then.” Steve lifts a hand to brush his thumb along your hairline, down your cheek to press against your lips, dragging them open. From there, he continues to where the swell of your breast meets the lace of your bra, skirting your nipple by lifting his hand up to clasp with the other hand behind his head. Throughout, his gaze holds yours, intense and commanding.

“Sure, show me up, like I’m going to remember anything more than my own name, at this point,” you whisper-whine.

“I used it a few times on my recent trip.” His soft admission is in direct contrast to his casual, confident body language. You’re starting to realize there’s a stronger dichotomy to Steve than you thought. Will you get to have the kind, thoughtful boyfriend who saves you from an evening of elitist tedium and a fierce, possessive lover?

Will you survive, if so?

“Tell me. I’m getting a little jealous of whatever it is you’re thinking about,” Steve intones.

You stop biting your lip and grin. “I’m filing away these new pieces of information about you. Just… don’t ask me where I’m filing them.”

“Oh, I will.”

His voice is like a caress that cascades over you, pausing at your most sensitive places. You shiver, both for your own acknowledgment of the sexual tension and for him to appreciate his effect on you. After letting out a breath that’s more like a yearning sigh, you set your hands on the top button of his dress shirt. With Steve’s steady gaze on you, though, you’re questioning yourself.

“My plan sounds stupid in my head now, with you oozing all of this confidence.”

Immediately, his hand covers yours, setting off sparks with every swipe of his thumb on your skin. “At work it’s a facade, a persona, even--and not a flattering one. I didn’t think I could shake it off, the night of the gala. It’s more natural when--” He interrupts himself by pulling you in for a deep, passionate kiss.

“You’re not faking it here,” you observe minutes later. The whole concept is knocking you sideways, but-- “Okay, I need to tell you I’m picturing you in one of those tailored suits commanding a room of powerful people and that is just sexy as hell.”

He rocks his hips up into you. “I’ll let them know--but, roll back a minute. What was your plan? Better yet,” Steve interrupts himself, setting a heavy hand on your hip to hold you still as he grinds up against you again. “Show me.”

His confidence is literally rubbing off on you. “All right, but fair warning: it’s very ‘over-eager receptionist peeks at you between decorative plants.’” As soon as the words are out of your mouth, his warm hand travels from your hip around and down, fingertips pushing aside your waistbands to firmly grip your ass.

“I know exactly who I’m here with.”

There’s enough of the altruistic, spend-a-week-building-with-the-bros tone in his voice to be reassuring, and you nod.

“Right, then.” Briskly, with the heat of arousal singing through you from every point of contact, you unbutton the top button of his dress shirt. “You’re kind.” Button two: “You’re moral and fair.” Your eyes are focused on your ‘work,’ but you can see Steve break into a smile. At button three, you’re almost halfway down. “You’re a hard worker.”

Steve lets out a deep ‘Mmmm’ sound. Thanks to his ass-grab leverage, he blatantly moves your hips in time with his for a cycle of thrusts that leave you breathless. You can’t look at him, so you clear your throat like a prudish schoolmarm and meticulously unbutton #4.

“You’re good at your… job.” It takes a little while to free this button, so you end up worrying your lower lip with your teeth as you try. Once you’re finished, with anticipation lifting every single hair follicle on your body, only then do you make eye contact.

He mutters ‘fuck’ and reaches between the two of you to unbuckle his belt, popping his trouser snap with an expression that challenges you to object.

There are two shirt buttons left.

You’re completely out of your depth, as desperate to come as you may have ever been in your entire existence, and you have zero idea what else to say--but you reach for button number five.

You wet your lips. Slowly.

Steve grips the couch with his free hand-- but the one he’s holding onto you with is still firm and not at all bruising (not that you’d mind. You’ll paint yourself with this man’s passion if he lets you). 

“You’re passionate.”

He makes a cut-off sort of growl in the back of his throat when you move to the last button. You can see the heavy bulge of his cock in his boxer briefs just an inch away from your palms. In a perfect world, you’d say ‘fuck it’ to coming up with another word. In a perfect world, you’d reward both of you by giving up and sliding to your knees, demonstrating exactly how much you appreciate this tall, sexy, beast of an honorable man--and then you have an idea.

Your borrowed pants have a simple clasp, and you move your hands slowly from Steve’s last remaining shirt button to release it, incidentally dragging across his straining cock as you do so. The blatant teasing gets ‘worse’ when you draw down your zipper, nudging, rubbing, and pressing until it’s fully unzipped.

Throughout, Steve’s hand on your ass remains steady, but his breathing grows more and more ragged.

Finally, you lift your hands up and away, denying him any more contact before dropping down to reach for the last button.

“You--” he rumbles, but you interrupt him with two words.

“You’re patient.”

With a practically incomprehensible oath that thoroughly refutes your last impudent compliment, Steve shoves down your loosened clothing and angles the two of you to the side on the couch, all in a single action. Then he sinks two fingers inside you roughly, both of you groaning at the desperate, glorious pleasure of it.

You cram a fist in your mouth, but he stops in the middle of his one-handed shucking of his pants and boxers to yank your fist free.

“All through that shitty conference I imagined the noises you’d make tonight,” Steve grits out, looking down at you with naked desire in his eyes. He twists his fingers mid thrust, and you can’t help but cry out, your hips chasing every movement his talented, devastating fingers perform on you.

You’re already so close. The white-hot, catastrophic release starts to cloud your vision, stayed only by your delayed understanding of what he just said.

“Wait, you’re saying during the--”

Steve kicks the last inches of his lower clothing free and swaps hands deftly, spreading your arousal on his cock with an ‘Mmmm’ of pleasure so filthy you flutter around his fingers in pre-orgasmic shock.

“Thinking about you genuinely kept me sane, and I'm going to turn those daydreams into reality,” he rasps, a modern Greek god with the morals of a saint and the body of a satyr, as if you could ever do anything but gratefully worship him.

You mouth something like the word “Yes,” too desperate for anything more coherent.

The pleasure that follows his first deep thrust is ruinous. You forget everything but Steve, the taste of praise on his lips, the delight his touch chases across your skin, and most of all, the power he arches into you, music and mayhem and meaning, all at once. By the time you’re shuddering around each other you’ve ended up on the floor in front of his couch--and you only notice because Steve’s got a hand cradling the back of your head.

“I’m out of adjectives,” you whisper weakly. “All of the good ones. Most of the naughty ones. Fuck, other languages, too. Even extinct ones. You’re fluent in everything.”

Steve pulls you to his chest and does something athletic that ends with you on the couch beside him, his soft homemade afghan covering the most pertinent parts of your nakedness.

“You make me want to be fluent in everything,” he murmurs. “And, thank you.” Steve grabs his shirt and holds it in front of his crotch. “I’ll get a washcloth.”

He’s jogging farther into the apartment before you can respond, but something about his protective actions trigger a flurry of realization, something you should be--

Oh.

The fall of snow past the giant picture windows brings reality crashing into you. You just had glorious, intense, messy sex in a room that is visible from other nearby buildings!

Steve reappears with a soft-looking washcloth. He’s wearing pajama pants, with what looks like a matching long-sleeved top slung over his shoulder.

“I forgot about the windows,” you say in a small voice, taking the washcloth and using it under the afghan.

“Oh, right,” he says in a completely un-worried voice. Steve looks over at you, sees the half-scared expression on your face, and his demeanor sort of… softens. It’s both obvious and hard to quantify, and it hits you that he’s almost certainly done that before, even if you hadn’t noticed. You imagine there’s a lot of things his clothes and a carefully-crafted facial expression would cover for. He sits down beside you on the couch and offers you the shirt as he says, “The couch is recessed enough into the room that it’s not very visible, I think, but I wasn’t thinking, and I should have asked you about that. I’m sorry.”

He looks like he’s about to say something else, and you ask him about that while pulling on his proffered pajama top, juggling the blanket in the process.

“Would it be strange to say I get very… goals-oriented?” he asks, rueful and amused in equal measure.

“How much different a ‘persona’ are we talking, here?”

The question is meant playfully, but Steve takes long enough to answer that you can feel the warmth of the washcloth start to fade in your hand.

“Too different for comfort, I’m coming to realize.” 

He reaches for the washcloth, but you pull it close and get up, gesturing for him to lead you to wherever you can rinse it out. On the way, you can’t help but eye the windows in a new way, perhaps as unintentional adversaries.

“I haven’t let myself be truly seen in a long time,” Steve says as you drape the rinsed washcloth on a drying rack in the dimly-lit kitchen area. “The reason is--well, it might be insulting, but it’s honest.”

You resist the urge to hug your arms around yourself. He’s given you a shirt to wear that matches his, and you were serious with those compliments earlier, despite the pleasure-wrought desperation you felt as you spoke them. “Go on?”

“You’re yourself with me. Not fawning. There’s no facade, no attempt to pretend you have more money or influence. That’s rare. Precious even.”

His statement stings, despite everything that’s happened tonight, despite the way his compliment hews off the rough edges. There’s no derision or judgment in his tone, so you smile at him, albeit stiffly. 

���I don’t really have a way to hide those things. I’m me. I figured if you were bothered by--” you wince, feeling a sense of inferiority rise up inside you (dropped out of college, pulled out of your internship, entry-level job, depleted nest-egg, caregiver for your sister, baggage, baggage, baggage) before you wrestle it all back down. “--any of that, you’d move on, and I wouldn’t be able to stop you.”

“I don’t want to move on,” Steve says firmly, brushing his hand over your hair as if to adjust the disarray that came from putting on his shirt. “I want to move forward, even if that means you can see through some of the windows I usually cover with curtains. Will you be exclusive with me?”

“I’d really like that,” you whisper, overcome. “And not just because you fuck like a complete god.”

The words slip out before you can fucking stop them, and you gasp, the tidal wave of your social inferiority to a man like Steve coming blasting through all the tentative bridges you’ve just built. You hear buzzing in your ears, your vision is misted over with regret--but seconds later, you realize he’s laughing.

“Okay I swear on every single deity that exists, I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud! I’m so sorry,” you groan, your relief over his amusement barely tempering the metallic tang of adrenaline on your tongue.

Your… your boyfriend Steve Rogers takes your hand in his and lifts it up, bowing over it before kissing it with more chivalry than a whole season of Game of Thrones. Even one of the early ones.

“Sweetheart, you’re forgiven.”

<- Previous story...

[bitebitekxll]

Sfw ask:

Genshin men with a sick reader headcanons

Diluc, Kaeya, Kazuha, Ayato, can remove or add if you’d like

What they do when you’re sick

៚ Diluc ✧ Kaeya ✧ Kazuha ✧ Ayato ✧ Childe

Notes: FIRST FIC ASK LETS GOOO!! Also happy holidays everyone <3

For a character I am the least sure about characterising, Ayato’s somehow became the longest?? Fingers crossed I did him justice. Also couldn’t resist spreading my malewife Childe agenda so he’s in this too. Hope you enjoy ~

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂 ᥫ᭡

Even if Dawn Winery has a whole set staff on hand, he will insist on taking care of you himself; making sure you take your medicine on time, cooking you meals, doing anything he can to ensure your work doesn’t suffer in your absence. The only way to convince him to let Adelinde handle it, is to remind him he can’t hold you if he’s running around. He’s quiet. Not his usual comfortable silence, but one that adds a weighted air to all actions as he stays vigil at your side. Diluc doesn’t like feeling helpless and hates when you’re uncomfortable so you can bet he’ll be extra fussy over you when you’re sick.

(Not to mention vigilant to ensure you don’t get sick in the first place. Going out in the rain? Not without his umbrella you’re not. Venturing into Dragonspine? What a coincidence, he happens to have business there. Yes, really. But, oh it seems they cancelled last minute so now he will of course accompany you. His pyro vision can provide better warmth than whatever few seelies you come across, so it’s only reasonable he tag along.)

You might need to literally thwack him a couple of times to get him to stop being overbearing, but you can guarantee you’ll be taken care of with all your needs attended to.

𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀 ᥫ᭡

He won’t let you lift a finger the whole time you’re recovering. It doesn’t matter if you only have a bit of a cold, he will physically pick you up over his shoulder and drag you away from work/chores/any responsibility. If someone even dares to suggest you do something while unwell— even if you make it clear you can handle it —he will mercilessly cut them down with that little bastard smile of his playing on his lips.

“You can’t possibly be suggesting our dear Y/N take care of that in this condition. After everything they’ve done for us, no one would be selfish enough to deprive them of some well-earned rest, hm?”

This man will convince the whole of Mond that you need to be spoiled when sick. Good luck doing anything without people rushing to help you with that, no no sit down, you should rest, actually why don’t we just call Sir Kaeya, I’m sure I saw him around—

He does make sure not to annoy you too much with his antics, letting you be independent when it seems like you’re reaching your limit (as long as the task isn’t too taxing) and he’ll be sure to keep you company while you’re stuck at his home.

If you do get bored of being inside he’ll take you out, but don’t expect to set a foot on the ground as long as he’s there.

𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀 ᥫ᭡

Though he’s no physician, Kazuha is excellent at dealing with illness and injuries. He had to take care of his own by himself before joining the Crux, after all. And even now, he’s often sought out by the crew during voyages when someone needs medical attention. His calm and reassuring demeanour only further makes him the perfect candidate to be at your bedside.

After doing whatever he can to ease your symptoms, he lets you rest your head in his lap. Expect to be lulled to sleep by nimble fingers carding through your hair, and the sweet whistling tones of a leaf as Kazuha plays it for you— and you still can’t figure out how he manages to do that. He presses kisses to your forehead, your knuckles, your lips: you can remind him that your illness is contagious, but he’ll just smile and kiss you again softly.

“There is no greater honour, nor privilege I can imagine, than sharing the burdens of the one you love. Don’t fret, my dear. Let me hold the weight of all your troubles, and let me hold you, for as long as you will grant me that pleasure.”

𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐓𝐎 ᥫ᭡

For a man who is so powerful, so composed in public, he is a complete kid with you. He would mope and whine when you tell him you’re not getting out of bed that day. He’s always so bored when you leave him on his lonesome, and even if he can’t be by your side every second he still loves knowing there’s a chance of running into you around the estate or Inazuma itself. So of course he’ll try to goad you into getting up, wanting the two of you to start the day together.

But he changes his tune the moment he realises you’re truly unwell.

Ayato doesn’t hesitate to wrap you up in his arms for the duration of your illness. It’s not like Diluc where he insists on doing the work himself, he gets the staff to bring you whatever you need according to the doctor, but only so he can dedicate all his time showering you in love and affection. You get even more attention from him while you’re sick than you usually do (a feat that should be impossible). He’s a clingy bastard and is fully prepared to let the commission suffer until you’re better, unwilling to part for even a moment while you’re in this state. (He’s lucky Ayaka and Thoma keep things running in the meantime, but you can bet he’s in for a scolding from his sister when he returns to his duties).

If you don’t like being touched while sick, he’ll just stay by your side and keep you company. But if you give him the okay? Prepare for him to take advantage of you being stuck in bed to love on you ‘til his heart’s content.

“You know… some say the best way to recover from a cold is to pass it to someone else…”

By the time you’re feeling better, the idiot’s gotten himself sick. You can lecture him about being careless all you want, he just gives you a pleased grin as he looks up at you adoringly. Naturally, he never learns his lesson.

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄 ᥫ᭡

Will immediately panic when he sees you’re in bad shape. He’s equal parts alarmed and enraged, ready to seek vengeance on your behalf. Once he realises you’re just sick and not recovering from an attack, he’s more in his element. As a Snezhnayan, Childe is no stranger to illness. Young children, especially, are less tolerant to the cold, so he’s had plenty of experience looking after his younger siblings in that regard. He extends the same care to you: keeping a cooled wet towel on your forehead to settle your fever, cleaning your home with a frenzied determination, never allowing dust to settle and irritate your lungs.

Don’t even bother trying to eat yourself, he will feed you while you recline back on the mountain of pillows he fluffed up minutes prior. He makes the warm soup himself, but instead of the usual seafood concoctions he’s known for, it’s a much simpler, pleasant dish.

“My mother’s cure-all recipe; there’s nothing better for when you’re sick! The kids love it. In fact, Teucer’s even faked sick before just so she would make it for him, the little rascal. Try a bite, I promise you’ll be fighting fit in no time!”

Big malewife energy the whole time he’s taking care of you. He’s concerned about your health, of course, but because he’s done this before for his family he doesn’t feel panicked. Instead, he’s all warm smiles and attentive affection, making jokes to cheer you up while he keeps an eye on your condition. If you need anything from him, anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask.