#replies and plotting incoming

[xervn]

till the sun is up

oneshot | cowboy sevika

ao3 link

summary: porch sex. that's about it.

18+ MDNI | 2k words | tags; modern au, cowboy sevika (doesn't play a big part though), established relationship, sevika has both arms (sorry, ik, i love it too), kissing, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, no use of y/n, porn w/ plot if you squint

took me weeks to write this because i'm lazy and a student, but i'm still in love with sevika. sorry if there's grammatical errors, i mostly wrote this with one hand (im joking)

It’s six-oh-something AM and you woke up to an empty bed; nothing but wrinkled sheets where your wife is supposed to be. You figure she’s keeping herself busy and will be back soon, so in the meantime, you tie your robe around your waist for a little warmth and head downstairs.

You get started on breakfast, turning on the griddle, and taking note of the things you guys need to stock up on. However, by the time you’re done, Sevika has still not shown up. You’re not used to waking up without seeing her, although the only reason you’re up right now is because you didn’t feel her next to you. 

“She must be in the barn.” You assume, making your way to the front door and to the porch. As expected, the horses are out, which could only mean Sevika was too. You make your own binoculars with your hands, trying to see if you can spot your wife in the distance, until you hear a soft grunt right beside you. 

A peaceful sight, Sevika napping on a wooden armchair like an uncle at a family gathering— you giggle at that— with her cowboy hat being used as a sleeping mask. You hate to have to wake her up, but you made her breakfast! And she should’ve been sleeping next to you anyways. 

“Vika..” You lean down to peek at her face, but, of course, her hat is blocking her eyes. “Vika, baby?” You squat down to plant a kiss on her cheek where you can manage, and she hums awake. “There you are.”

Sevika grunts and you giggle. She sits up and pulls her hat back on her head, squinting at the early morning sun that’s still rising, but somehow found a perfect angle to blind her. She turns to look at you instead. “Hey, sweetheart.” She greets with a rasp.

You spot her discomfort and use your body to block the incoming light for her. “Hi, I missed you.”

She smiles sleepily and reaches for your waist. She guides you down to sit on her lap and you happily let her. “‘M sorry. Woke up too early, thought I’d let the horses out and watch the sunrise...” She says before looking away to yawn. 

You gasp lightly, “Without me?” You clutch at your chest and Sevika chuckles at your theatrics. 

She gently tries to move your hand into hers, but you resist. She shakes her head, laughing, “No, no, no. Baby, please, I didn’t want to wake you.”

“But you made it sound so romantic.. I wouldn’t mind.” You pout. Sevika gives you a doubtful look and you pretend not to see it. 

“You’re not nice when I wake you up.” She reminds you.

“I would’ve been nice this time.” You lie.

“I didn’t want to test that.”

You playfully roll your eyes, “Oh, whatever.” You shift to get up, but Sevika quickly anchors you down.

“Where are you going?” She questions with her hands on you firmly; one around your waist and on your stomach, and the other indented in your thigh like you might float away. 

“Ease up, cowgirl. I made breakfast. I made you breakfast.” You reply, placing your hand on her cheek.

“Oh? What’d you make?” She asks as she leans her face into your touch, innocently. Her hands don’t budge.

“Bacon, eggs,” you list and Sevika nods in approval, “Pancakes, and coffee...” You drawl, and her eyes shut as she groans. “Uh-huh, are you gonna join me?” You ask, resting your hands on her chest and waiting for her answer.

She looks you in the eyes, until her gaze starts to go south, lingering at the low neckline of your nightgown. Your cleavage makes a sudden appearance she didn’t notice at first. Sevika was half-awake, but she’s definitely not anymore; whistling at the sight of you. Her grasp on your thigh leaves and goes to pull your satin robe down your shoulder. Surprised, you scold, “Sevika!”

“What?” She goes for the other shoulder and you make no attempts to stop her. “I can’t admire my wife?” She says, resting her rough hand on your thigh again, but this time she’s slowly massaging it up and down.

“You can, but I made you breakfast and it’ll get cold.”

“Baby, that’s what microwaves are for.” She coos, venturing her hand between your legs, slowly making her way up. 

They almost flinch shut and Sevika awes. Your face turns warm and you look away, towards your surroundings, and although she's right about the food, you guys are still outside. You mutter out, “But..”

“But what?” She asks. You continue to aimlessly look in the distance, even though you know damn well there’s nothing but farmland and horses. Sevika chuckles, “The horses don’t care and we don’t get visitors. Even if we did, you know I’d kill ‘em before they could see you like this, right?” You fix your lips to respond, but you pause when the hand on your stomach moves down to the lace hemline of your gown. Her fingers curl underneath, waiting to search. “I miss you.” She whispers.

Her words tug at your heart and her puppy eyes burn into you. You didn’t need much convincing anyways, but you fold and you mumble out, “I know what you’re doing...” Your marriage has taught two things, if Sevika “misses you” she either really does, or she really wants to fuck you. 

You reach for her hat and perch it on your head; an unspoken rule about cowboys Sevika once said. She grins up at you as you slide your hand over her shoulder, closing some distance between you two.

“I do miss you, I miss you all the time.” She assures, leaning in to freely press kisses on your shoulder. Her fingers finally lift your dress and her kisses begin to trail towards your neck. You can deduce which “missing” she meant, and you feel the same way. 

Exhaling, you tip your head to the side to give her more room. Sevika’s lips marking the new territory makes you tremble like it was the first time. It’s no surprise that after years of being together, she still makes your heart race. 

You move with her as she leans back, tugging you towards her. You involuntarily let out a squeak that she snickers at, and she gives you a kiss on the cheek and several more, distracting you from her spreading your legs indecently; hooking your outer leg over her strong forearm.

She wastes no time to ride up the front of your nightgown, showcasing your plain, flimsy, black, cat-themed underwear. Sevika doesn’t bat an eye, of course, she’s used to it. 

Right now, she’s only focused on one thing. Her hand purposefully ghosts over, so she can ogle at you writhing with anticipation. Your knitting brows, heavy breathing— it excites her. She’s getting worked up from watching you. “Look how bad you want it.” She teases affectionately.

Sevika presses her middle finger on your damp, clothed clit, observing and feeling every reaction that pulses from you. You let out a soft curse and she rewards it by moving her finger in tight circles. Sevika listens to how your breath staggers and clenches from the ache between her own legs. She tugs your underwear to the side to properly admire how wet you are. The cool, morning air makes you shiver. 

Pinning the fabric with her ring finger, she sensually swipes her middle up your folds. “All for me?”

Her voice has you melting, throbbing, and you're unable to contain the whine that escapes you. Sevika’s gaze locks on your lips the second she hears it, as if she’s hunting for the next one. You make sure she’ll be able to catch it, meeting her halfway for a kiss. 

She grins as your mouths collide, eyes fluttering shut and lips passionately fitting together like a two-piece puzzle. She brings another finger to aid her in rubbing soft circles on your clit; just enough to build pressure, but not enough to relieve it. The tip of her tongue runs over your parted bottom lip, waiting for an invitation in, and you allow it with a breathy moan. She languidly teases her tongue across yours, then pulls away just to watch you follow after her— which you do— and you can see how much she got off on it. 

Panting impatiently, “Sev…“ But you trail off as she gravitates towards you with another magnetizing, searing kiss. Your hands find the side of her neck, brushing up her nape. 

She sweetly pecks your lips, breaking away for a second, “You’re,” she kisses you again, “Just,” and again, “So,” and again, “Pretty. I had to look.” She murmurs.

Your face becomes home for a cheesy smile Sevika reciprocates dotingly. You lean in to kiss her, and as your lips brush against each other’s, her fingers suddenly resume their movement, this time firmly and relieving. You whimper over her lips, and she chuckles darkly against yours. She kisses you deeply as she steadily coaxes your clit on a perfect pressure point. 

Your legs begin to bow together from the overwhelming sensation, slowly coming to its climax, and Sevika takes it as a sign to slip her fingers into you. The stretch hurts good as she curls her fingers into ‘come-hither’ motions right where you need them. The previous build up resumes instantly and you’re back where you left off, right on the brink. 

“Vika, I’m gonna…“ You softly cry out, unable to finish your words because she only increases her speed at the mention of her name. Now her thick fingers are squelching in and out of you and the sounds are fogging your brain. If it wasn’t for the chirping birds and the huffing horses in the distance, you would’ve forgotten where you were.

“Not yet, just a little longer.” She says— demands even.

You sob out a moan, akin to a tantrum, “I can’t— fuck — I can’t.” 

Sevika plants a kiss on the corner of your lips; her fingers refusing to stop hitting your rough spot. “You can, baby. You don’t want me to stop, do you?” She whispers.

She puts up a good point you can’t argue. You don’t want her to stop, you’d hate for her to stop. “N- No, but maybe slow— hnng— d— shit— down?” You bargain half-heartedly in stutters and stammers.

“Where’s the fun in that? And if you come right now, so help me god.” She growls. Yet, the way she’s fucking you is telling you the opposite; there’s a thin line on torture and mind-breaking pleasure she’s crossing and you love it. You try not to love it too much before you explode on the spot. 

She can see how much you're trying, squirming, whining with every fast-paced stroke. One word from her and you’d come undone: that’s her favorite part. She extends her free arm, the one propping your leg up, and she puts four fingers on your clit, then rubs it harshly. That does it. You actually can’t hold it anymore unless you want half an orgasm. Your head jerks back and Sevika’s cowboy hat begins to slide off your head. There’s tears in your eyes, your legs are weak and shaking. You need it, you need it bad.

And she gives it to you. “Such a good girl. Go on, come for me.” 

Your release hits hard, like a cork popping off a champagne bottle. Your eyes pin shut as it reverberates down to your toes, and courses up your spine. You let out high-pitched, breathy moans, and Sevika harmonizes— not mockingly — soothingly, as she softly rubs out your orgasm. Your underwear falls back in place as she removes her fingers out of you and off of you. You wince and she murmurs an apology with a smug smile. 

“Holy shit,” You exhale as your legs fall over Sevika’s thighs. You can feel the air getting warmer, and as your eyes flutter open, the sky is colored a blue only a risen sun could paint. “I love you.”

“I love you.” She replies with a smile.

“Your turn now.”

She laughs heartily, briefly biting her lower lip, “But I thought the breakfast was gonna get cold?” 

You grin, “‘That’s what microwaves are for.’”

[heartysworld]

Lovely coincidences // L. Norris x Fem. Reader

A/N: There was no way I was gonna miss the opportunity and post something about today's events, which, by the way, made me jump out of bed with a gasp at 8am.

W.c: 1.2k

MASTERLIST

You sit cross-legged on the couch, your phone in one hand and Lando’s head resting in your lap. His curls tickle your fingers as you absentmindedly play with his hair, scrolling through Instagram. Your draft post stares back at you, nerves fluttering in your stomach. The picture is perfect—Lando’s hand protectively resting on your bump, your fingers intertwined, both of you glowing in the soft light of the sunset.

You've been trying to do this all week but always ended up backing out right before you hit the "post" button. Every time it fel as if you were about to expose the most private part of your private life to the public. However, at some point you came to the realization that it's better to do it yourself before a media outlet ratted your secret out first.

The caption reads:

"Plot twist of the year: Lando and Y/N +1 coming soon 🍼❤️."

“Do you think it’s too cheesy?” you ask, looking down at him.

“Cheesy?” Lando scoffs, twisting so he can meet your gaze. “Y/N, the fans love cheesy. And let’s be real—this is huge. They’re going to lose their minds.”

“They already think you’re the chaos driver,” you tease. “Now they’ll think we’re bringing another tornado into the world.”

“Exactly!” Lando sits up, grabbing his phone with a grin. “It’s perfect. Our little chaos baby.” He pauses, looking serious for a moment. “Are you ready, though? This makes it real, you know?”

His sincerity warms you, and you nod. “I’m ready.”

“Alright then,” he says, holding up his phone like he’s at the starting grid. “On three. One… two… three—post!”

The moment you hit post, your phone buzzes like a swarm of bees. Likes, comments, and DMs flood in at a dizzying pace. Lando’s laugh fills the room as he scrolls through the comments.

“Look at this,” he says, showing you Carlos’ reply: “Mini Lando incoming? Poor Y/N. The grid’s not ready for this!”

“Carlos has a point,” you quip, nudging him.

Before you can reply to anyone, Lando’s phone buzzes again. He freezes, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he reads the notification.

“No way,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief.

“What?”

“It’s Max.” He turns his phone toward you.

You squint at the screen. Sure enough, there it is—Max Verstappen and Kelly Piquet’s baby announcement, posted mere minutes after yours. The picture shows Max and Kelly in a cozy living room, her bump visible under her flowy dress, and the caption:

"Baby Verstappen loading… can’t wait to meet you, little one ❤️."

Your jaw drops. “You’re kidding me.”

Lando’s already dialing Max. The phone rings twice before Max picks up, his calm voice a stark contrast to Lando’s giddy disbelief.

“What’s up, Norris?”

“What’s up?” Lando exclaims. “What’s up is that you just stole our baby thunder!”

There’s a beat of silence, then you hear Kelly laughing in the background. “Oh no,” she says through her giggles. “Did we steal their thunder?”

“Steal our thunder? You drove right through it!”, Lando replies, though his grin betrays his faux outrage.

“Not my fault you have bad timing,” Max says dryly.

Lando groans. “I cannot believe this. First you steal first place on teack, and now you’re trying to win the baby race?!”

“First place is first place,” Max says smugly.

The banter continues until you grab the phone from Lando, laughing. “Alright, thays enough. Max, congratulations to you and Kelly. But I think we all know who the real winner is.”

“Who?” Max asks.

“Me,” you reply, smirking. “Because I have to deal with Lando’s reaction to this for the next nine months.”

The delivery room is a whirlwind of emotions, but through it all, Lando is by your side, holding your hand, cracking jokes, and whispering words of encouragement. When the nurse finally hands you your baby—a tiny, wriggling bundle swaddled in white—you’re overwhelmed with love.

“She's perfect,” Lando whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “Absolutely perfect.”

Later that night, Lando posts the first photo of Baby Love Norris: a close-up of their tiny hand clutching his finger. The caption reads:

"Our greatest Love. Welcome to the world, little lady ❤️."

Two days later, your phone buzzes with a notification. You open Instagram to see another post from Max. It’s almost identical—a photo of his baby’s hand holding his finger, with the caption:

"Our little Love has arrived. We’re so in love ❤️."

Your eyes widen. “Lando!”

He rushes into the room, disheveled but alert. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Max and Kelly named their baby Love.”

Lando stares at you for a moment, then bursts out laughing. “You’re joking.”

“Look!” You show him the post, and his laughter grows louder.

“Of course they did,” he says, shaking his head. “I swear, Max is doing this on purpose.”

By the next race, the entire paddock is buzzing about the two Baby Loves.

“You sure they're not twins?” Oscar asks one morning, his grin as wide as ever.

“Must be something in the water,” Charles adds with a smirk.

Max and Lando handle the teasing with their usual banter.

“They’re basically the same kid,” Lando says during a press conference, leaning back in his chair.

Max nods. “Mine’s faster, though.”

“Oh, please,” Lando shoots back. “Mine’s already smiling. Yours just cries.”

“They’re newborns, Lando. What do you expect?”

One afternoon in the paddock lounge, Max walks in carrying Baby Love Verstappen, who’s swaddled in a pastel yellow blanket. Lando immediately perks up.

“Look who finally showed up!” Lando says, grinning as he leans over to get a look at the baby.

“She’s beautiful,” you say, smiling warmly.

“Of course she is,” Max replies smugly. “She’s a Verstappen.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando mutters. “But I bet she’s not as cute as our Love.”

“Are you seriously competing over babies?” you ask, rolling your eyes.

“They compete over everything,” Kelly says, sitting beside you. “It’s like having two toddlers already.”

By the end of the weekend, people start reposting a meme of the two baby Loves photoshopped into tiny F1 cars, complete with helmets and matching “Love” liveries. Both Lando and Max share it, each captioning it:

"Team Love: P1 and P2 ❤️."

Life is hectic, chaotic, and overwhelming, but as you watch Lando cradle your baby, his face lit with pure joy, you know it’s exactly how it’s meant to be.

MASTERLIST

[nahoney22]

Perfectly Plucked

🫧 Pairings: Tech X Female!Reader

🫧 word count: 3.2k

Plot: Omega mentions to Tech that you love flowers, and luckily enough for him, you love him also.

Warnings: Fluff, safe for work, female reader (she/her), idiots in love, first kiss, nervous Tech.

A/N: it’s been a while since I wrote something cute with my darling, Tech 🩵

“So, what’s the plan?”

Omega’s voice is filled with mischief as she sways from side to side in the co-pilot’s seat, her eyes locked on Tech.

Tech doesn’t immediately respond. His fingers tapped lightly over the datapad, scanning through the incoming reports. But when Omega’s voice cut through the steady hum of the Marauder, his eyes lifted briefly, landing on her as she swayed back and forth in the co-pilot's seat. “Meaning?”

Omega leans forward, her grin widening as she tilts her head toward the viewport, pointing with her chin toward the object of their conversation. “You know... her,” she says in a teasing tone, her eyes sparkling with barely contained excitement. “Are you going to ask her out?”

Tech’s expression faltered for a split second—his eyes widened, just enough to give him away—before he quickly averted his gaze, pretending to focus on the datapad once more. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Oh, you definitely do. We’ve alll seen how you look at her. It’s pretty obvious.” Omega replies, rolling her eyes dramatically before jumping to her feet.

“I do not ‘look’ at her.” Tech mutters, his tone defensive. “I simply observe. That is all.”

Omega arches an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. “Sure, ‘observe.’”

She pauses, tapping her chin thoughtfully as she begins to pace the cockpit.. “You could always make her something. You know, something nice and romantic! A gadget of some kind.” Then she frowns. “Although that doesn’t scream romantic.”

Tech looks up with a sigh. “Of course they are not. They are tools for beneficial use. And I do not believe she requires anything like that.”

Omega halts, then leans against the control panel, “Okay, maybe not gadgets,” she says, “But flowers might work. People give flowers all the time as romantic gestures.”

Tech blinks, his mind racing as he processes the suggestion. “Flowers?” His voice carries a hint of skepticism. “Why would she need flowers? They have no functional use. I would know if she had an interest in... what was it she said, ‘botanical remedies’?” He gives a small, self-assured smirk, as though this topic was already discussed between the two of them. “She tends to consult me on those matters.”

Omega rolls her eyes once but grins, “It’s not about the practical use, Tech. It’s about the gesture. Besides, she loves flowers.”

Tech’s brow furrows in thought. He glances over at you through the viewport, seeing you sitting outside the Marauder and methodically cleaning and refurbishing your armour.

His mind memorises Omega’s point, you were interested in flowers or any fauna.

Omega watches his expression change, a gleam of victory in her eyes. “You should really pay attention when she watches those holo-romcoms. You’d see how much she likes the idea of flowers.”

Tech’s fingers tap thoughtfully against his datapad, but his attention has clearly shifted. “I suppose that is true,” he murmurs, as though the idea of flowers suddenly isn’t so far-fetched after all.

Omega, sensing her triumph, beams. “So you’ll do it then? You’ll get her flowers?”

“No,” Tech answers quickly, looking back at his datapad with feigned disinterest. “I do not appreciate your attempts to manipulate me into admitting feelings. Again.”

She chuckles, remembering the long conversation she had chewed his ear off about flying being a ‘feeling’.

“So you do admit it?”

Tech shoots her a pointed look, his tone sharpening just a little. “Omega.”

She raises her hands in mock surrender, backing away with exaggerated slowness. “Alright, alright,” she sings. “But I know she would appreciate it. You just have to admit it.”

Tech huffs, his lips pressing into a thin line. He watches you for a moment longer, his mind still running through the possibility, before he mutters under his breath, “I’ll consider it.”

Omega’s eyes twinkle, her work clearly done. “Perfect.”

The warm, refreshing breeze threaded through your hair as you leaned back against the crate, letting yourself savor the simple pleasure of open air. Sure, it wasn’t exactly a luxurious beach chair on a pristine coast like you had been craving, instead it was a beat-up crate on an overgrown forest floor. Though after days cooped up inside the Marauder, it felt like paradise. Even if the company inside was great. More than great, really.

Your mind wandered, inevitably drawn to a certain member of the squad. You caught yourself smiling, and immediately cringed, pressing a hand over your face.

"Why do feelings suck?" you muttered under your breath, shaking your head at yourself.

After a few minutes, you sat up and surveyed your armour with a satisfied smile. You had to admit, you were really good at keeping it looking brand new. Gathering the pieces in your arms, you headed back toward the ship, still riding the lazy warmth of the afternoon.

You were halfway up the gangplank, not paying attention, when you collided with something - someone - solid. You grunted, stumbling back as a few pieces of your armour clattered to the floor.

“Oh stars, sorry, Tech!��� you blurted out as you realised what happened, rubbing your forehead where you'd bumped it against him.

"Not to worry, I was not looking where I was going either," he said smoothly, though there was a softness to his voice that made your cheeks warm. Stars, he really got to you.

You quickly crouch to gather up the pieces of your armour, and Tech mirrors your movements without hesitation. His gloves brush against your fingers as you both reach for the same piece, and for a heartbeat, neither of you move. The slightest spark shoots up your arm, and judging by the way Tech’s hand stiffens just a fraction, you pondered wishfully if he felt it too.

True to form however, neither of you say anything about it. You clear your throat and pull your hand back, allowing him to pick up the last piece.

Once everything’s collected, Tech takes it and puts your armour in the Marauder. You move to step around him, but Tech moves at the same time. You both shuffle right. Then both to the left. You stifle a laugh, glancing up at him helplessly as you try again — and again — failing miserably to find your way past.

“We look ridiculous,” you mutter, half-laughing as you impulsively reach out and grab his shoulders to steady him and yourself.

His body goes stiff beneath your touch, as though uncertain what to do, and his adorable wide eyes blink down at you behind his goggles.

“Hold still,” you say through a grin, guiding him gently aside. He lets you manoeuvre him into place without a word, though you hear him clear his throat a little.

You finally step through the doorway into the ship, peeking back at him. “What were you up to, anyway?” you ask casually, hands on your hips

Normally, Tech would answer any question with straightforward precision, but today... today he falters. “I, ah... was merely seeking... additional reference material. For research purposes.” His voice, usually so confident and clipped, wavers strangely. It’s so unlike him that you tilt your head in suspicion, narrowing your eyes in a playful squint.

“Oh?” you say slowly, intrigued. “What kind of research?”

His mouth opens — and then promptly shuts again. He adjusts his goggles unnecessarily, his hands fidgeting at the edges of his belt. Definitely suspicious.

Your curiosity only grows. “Well, if you need help,” you offer lightly, “I’d be happy to join you. I wouldn’t mind stretching my legs.” But then you realise, “Actually, I don’t want to leave Omega on her own-”

You barely finish speaking when a voice pipes up right behind you, startling you.

“I can look after myself, you know,” Omega says, clearly having been eavesdropping the entire time. She crosses her arms proudly. “I’m not a little kid anymore.”

You and Tech both turn toward her. “Not going to start the ship up and fly away without us, right?” You tease.

“Well I can’t promise that” Omega teases, looking between the two of you. “But I’ll do my best to resist.”

“Alright then,” You nod, allowing her to stay behind but then look to Tech to get his verdict.

“I suppose we will not be long.”

“Great!” Omega chimes, “You two can enjoy your date - uh, I mean…”

You stare at her, wide-eyed and mortified at her slip (if it even was) of her tongue.

Tech’s ears burn under his goggles, shooting her a look that you don’t see. He straightens his posture, clearing his throat.

Soon after giving Omega one last warning not to do anything disastrous on your outing, you fall into step beside Tech as he leads the way off the ship.

He doesn't say much at first and you don't push about why he was oddly quiet. You’re quite content for a moment to simply walk through the warm, open air and the forest ahead looks inviting. And being with Tech was such an added bonus.

“So, what exactly are we doing?” you ask after a short while, glancing over at him. “You never did tell me what kind of research this was.”

He pushes his goggles up his nose, fingers twitching on a small device in his hand. “It is a standard environmental survey,” he says quickly, “Nothing particularly noteworthy.”

You squint at him, reading him like a book. “You’re a terrible liar, Tech.”

“I am not lying,” he says, his tone stiff. “I am merely withholding certain specifics for operational efficiency.”

You bite back a smirk but let it go, following him deeper into the trees.

The forest itself hums with quiet life around you. The soft chirping from unseen creatures and the faint trickle of a nearby stream was tranquil. The trees tower overhead, their bark a deep reddish-brown, had wide canopies of green and gold leaves that flutter gently in the breeze.

If Pabu didn’t exist, you would actually consider having a home here.

After a few more minutes of walking, you watch as Tech slows and veers off the beaten path. He stopped at the edge of a rocky clearing and looked over a bed of wildflowers that had tiny blossoms in vivid colours that sway.

He activates the device in his grasp with a quiet beep and starts scanning the flowers.

You lean against a large boulder nearby, resting your chin on your arms as you watch him work. His brows are knitted in focused concentration, a tiny crease forming above his nose.

Honestly? Adorable.

“You’re really invested in this ‘environmental survey,’ huh?” you tease lightly, smiling.

He doesn’t glance up. Instead, he carefully kneels and inspects a cluster of bright yellow blooms. He selects one, pulls a small pair of pliers from his utility belt, and snips the stem.

“What’s that one?” you ask whilst he holds the flower delicately between his gloved fingers.

He looks up at you, and there's something almost shy in the way he offers the information. “It is a part of the aurelia family, a plant known for its versatile healing properties," he explains. "It is particularly effective in creating salves for minor abrasions, something you once mentioned a preference for, if I recall correctly.”

You blink, caught off-guard by the thoughtfulness that he remembered a conversation you had with him quite a while ago now.

Before you can find the right words, he steps closer and offers the flower to you. “I would like you to look after it,” he says simply, placing it carefully into your hand quite quickly and looking away.

You cradle the delicate bloom as if it were made of glass. “I’ll guard it with my life,” you say with a mock-seriousness, but your heart thumps a little faster all the same.

Tech merely nods, satisfied, and turns to continue walking. You follow behind, hand still clutching the bright flower like it was something far more precious than just a plant. Well, to you it was anyway. You loved flowers.

You walk in easy silence for a while, the forest thickening around you as the path narrows.

You're still cradling the yellow flower carefully in your hand when you notice Tech slow again, his scanner flickering softly. He kneels by another patch of blooms — this time a cluster of small, delicate flowers in a soft shade of your favorite colour. You watch as Tech examines them, but instead of scanning them like before, he hesitates. His hand hovers for a moment before he plucks one gently between his fingers, standing up and turning toward you.

Without a word, he steps close, the flower dangling loosely in his grasp. His expression is unreadable behind his goggles, but there’s something almost... tentative about his posture.

You tilt your head, curious. “What’s that one?” you ask, smiling.

Tech visibly stiffens. His mouth opens, but whatever explanation he had seems to falter halfway through forming. “It does not possess any notable medicinal properties,” he admits, adjusting his grip on the flower. “It is... actually scientifically insignificant.”

You blink at him, confused. “Then why did you want me to hold it?”

For a second you swear you see Tech’s composure crack. He shifts awkwardly, looking anywhere but at you. “I considered it might be useful for... cross-referencing petal structure... for research purposes,” he says, far too quickly and far too technically to the point it sounded weird.

You narrow your eyes in mock suspicion, catching on that there’s definitely more he’s not saying. “Uh-huh. Sure,” you say, voice light but you can’t ignore that your heart beats a little faster. Did he want to give it to you… because he wanted to?

He seems to be silently warring with himself. His fingers twitch like he’s about to hand you the flower after all but at the last second, he stops.

Without another word, Tech then turns and — in a move so uncharacteristically flustered it makes you bite back a laugh — he tosses the little flower into the underbrush as he walks away.

You stare after him, baffled and amused in equal measur. Definitely suspicious.

Tech continues gathering flowers as you both wander through the forest, stopping here and there to snip a stem or examine a petal with meticulous care. You gave up asking about each one after the third or fourth as it became obvious he was just handing them to you without much explanation.

Instead, you quietly let him do it, your arms gradually filling with an array of blossoms: soft yellows, rich blues, gentle lilacs, vivid reds. The bundle was chaotic and beautiful.

After a while, Tech finally straightens and looks around the clearing with a satisfied nod. “This will suffice,” he announces.

You stop beside him, brushing your fingertips over the petals lightly, inhaling the gentle, sweet scent. “You picked a really pretty bunch for your research,” you admit softly, smiling over the bouquet at him.

Tech adjusts his goggles with a slight nervous twitch to the motion. “Yes, well...” he starts, voice a little stiffer than usual. “In truth, I would prefer you to keep them.”

You blink, surprised, lowering the flowers slightly to peer at him more clearly. “Keep them?”

He shifts on his feet, clearly uncomfortable but forcing himself to explain. “Omega mentioned that you appreciated flowers. She also suggested that they were considered a... romantic gesture. More appropriate than, say, a customised multitool.” He clears his throat, rapidly gaining momentum as he continues rambling.

“You wanted to get me flowers?” you interrupt softly, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Tech freezes mid-sentence of his tangent. His mouth opens and closes once — then he nods, sharply, as if resigning himself to it. “Yes. That was the intended outcome.”

Your cheeks burn so hot you swear Tech could probably feel it. You hug the messy bouquet a little tighter to your chest, heart thudding so hard it drowns out the hum of the forest around you.

Tech, seemingly unaware of just how much he’s affecting you, blunders on, still trying to justify himself as if he really needed to. “Initially, Omega suggested a handcrafted gadget. However, after observing flora within the holo-romcoms you frequently view, I concluded that a floral gift might have a statistically higher probability of being well-received, despite its lack of practicality—”

You’re barely listening anymore. You’re too busy staring at the ridiculous, wonderful bouquet in your hands, and the man who meticulously gathered every single stem just to give them to you.

“So... there was no research,” you say, your voice catching slightly.

Tech hesitates, then tilts his head slightly, almost sheepish. “No, not exactly,” he admits.

You bite your lip, trying and failing to hide the grin spreading across your face.

Thinking for a split second, you pull a small flower from the messy bundle — a delicate little thing with soft pink petals — and step toward him. Tech watches you with a sort of curious stillness, almost like he’s bracing for whatever strange human interaction he’s about to experience for the first time. A soft tenderness he yearned for you.

Carefully, you tuck the flower into the side of his goggle band, the bright bloom resting just above his ear. You step back to admire your handiwork, smiling. “There,” you say lightly, “now you look even cuter.”

Tech blinks, his hand automatically coming up to touch the flower like he’s not sure it’s really there. He tilts his head, studying you as a small, almost hesitant smile curling at the edges of his mouth.

“That would suggest that you found me ‘cute’ beforehand.” He exhales through a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding.

You meet his gaze, feeling daring. “Maybe,” you say coyly with a shrug, the word slipping out in a playful lilt.

Something shifts between you. Tech’s smile lingers, but it’s gentler now. His hand drops back to his side, but he takes a small step closer, close enough that you can smell the faint, clean scent of him — old leather, warm metal and tools, and something sharper underneath, something just him.

Your heart thuds painfully against your ribs.

Neither of you speaks. The forest seems to go quiet, the golden leaves above stilling like even the world around you doesn’t want to interrupt.

Slowly, carefully, Tech raises his hand, fingertips brushing against your arm like a silent question. You don’t pull away. If anything, you lean closer, your bouquet pressed tight to your chest like it’s the only thing keeping you anchored.

“Would it... be acceptable,” he says, voice almost a whisper now, “if I—?”

You don’t even let him finish. You nod, once, fast and certain.

The distance closes naturally. His gloved hand slides up, cupping your cheek with a reverence that makes your breath hitch. You tilt into him instinctively, and when he finally, finally leans in, his kiss is as careful and deliberate as everything else he does. A featherlight brush of lips at first, testing the waters, before deepening ever so slightly as he feels you melt against him.

It’s sweet, and a little clumsy, and absolutely perfect.

When you finally pull away, you’re both smiling genuine smiles that don’t need words to explain.

The flower you tucked behind his goggles is a little crooked now, and somehow, that just makes it even better.

🫧 Masterlist

Tags: @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot t @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz z @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 7 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @tentakelspektakel l @stellarbit @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @the-bad-batch-baroness @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @photogirl894 @lulalovez

[mymiraclealigner]

Don’t be kind | RemusLupin x fem!reader

summary: Remus has come back to apologize.

tw: smut without much plot (+18), curse words

word count: 2,223

a/n: long time no see :) i have been thinking about remus so much lately... hope you like this and sorry if there are any grammar mistakes, english is not my first language.

The rain hit the window desperately. It banged the outside of the big house begging to come in. The weight of the mist creeped into the walls with ease, like a snake crawling through a dense field, almost invisible. The Black House was dark and moist, the majority of its habitants in deep, twitchy slumber.

A girl held herself up on her elbows, semi-asleep still. Some hair stuck to her temple, product of the sweat. The heat under her duvet contrasted uncomfortably with the cold atmosphere. She managed to sit on her bed to recognize the figure standing past her door. A small breeze sneaked through the gap between the creaky floors; a shiver walked across her.

“Remus?” A set of manicured fingers raised to rub her sleepy eyes.

The man remained still. Remus was counting in his head: one, two three, four… Hoping to go unnoticed around twenty. It wasn’t the first night he had entered her room to watch her sleep or something more. But it was the first time he felt embarrassed that he got caught. Twenty came around and she remained focused on the subject in her room.

The silhouette’s shoulders were moving up and down patiently and a few drops fell from his fingers to the floor: he was soaking wet, the rain caught him on the way back to the house. She knew it was Remus and not an illusion. In her dreams, he would have come to her already and he would have been dry, smelling like books and whisky, like he normally did. In her dreams, he loved her unafraid, he was certain of his feelings for her.

“So this is what you do, treat me horribly and come back to watch me sleep and wet my floors?”

“Sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you,” he replied with a hoarse voice. “It’s the moon.”

The girl looked down, a silver, thick stripe on the floor marked the distance between the bodies. It was always the moon the one coming between them. Nature’s round princess was an animated object, playing with Remus’ head and emotions. The witch constantly asked herself how something so beautiful could do him so much harm –and to her, consequently.

She removed the comforter from her body, sitting at the edge of the bed. The moon’s pale light bathed her naked legs. She wiggled her toes against the cold wood, getting ready to stand up. Remus’ breathing quickened, her actions meant I forgive you, clearly. He tried to ignore the inevitable worry of when he would no longer be forgiven.

She moved like an angel towards him: messy curls framing her face, tired eyes shaping the world around her. Remus could have kneeled to her feet and kissed them as an act of gratitude. She was merciful like a virgin.

She first pushed the heavy leather jacket off his shoulders. The garment hit the floor with a hard thud, splashing cold water on her feet. His hands were immediately on her hips, his achy knuckles relaxed at the touch of her cotton shirt. She surrounded his neck and came so close to his face she could feel his warm breath on her forehead. He smelled like pines and smog.

“I’m truly sorry, you’re so important to me,” he whispered against her hairline. His hands trespassed the fabric and caressed her lower back, occasionally playing with the edge of her underwear.

Her hands massaged his nape, helping it get rid of the tension the incoming full moon had induced. She looked up into his tired eyes, the stripe of light reflected in his pupils. He truly couldn’t escape the moon.

“It’s okay, just take what you need,” she responded while pulling his lips closer to hers.

He wanted to correct her, he wasn’t there to take anything –even if it seemed like it–, but it was too late. She immediately kissed him and he forgot about anything that had ever happened in the world before that moment.

The rain suddenly stopped, the clouds took deep a breath.

Like a siren she pushed him slowly into her waters, discarding his clothes on the way. The first buttons of his shirt were undone slowly by her slippery hands; the lethargy of her movements heated Remus’ head. He interrupted the unhurried pace yanking the shirt open, fours buttons flew across the room. Her nails scratched the hair on his torso, fondling the scars with dedication; it made Remus moan.

At the halfway point, Y/n lost her shirt. A soft breeze hardened her nipples, right before the werewolf’s hand grazed them. Her lips, already red and bitten, opened to emit a small groan of satisfaction. She was desperate for him, but so mad at his ways. She brought her bare chest closer to his in a unbridled outburst; fuck you, she thought.

Y/n kept her backward walk until she was stopped by the feel of the mattress hitting her thighs. The girl palmed him over his wet jeans: he was rock hard under the rough material. She guessed he had been hard for a while now by the way his hips stuttered. Remus separated from her kiss to observe her moving hand; in a swift move he removed it holding her by the wrist and trapping her arm behind her back.

“My turn,” he announced lowly against her cheek. He let his words linger in the air; he wanted time to slow her breaths.

With the back of his scarred hand he caressed the curve of her face relaxing the frown that had settled between her brows. His stroke kept going down her neck, the pulse of her veins made his fingers slightly jump. Like on a mountain, his hand raised following the outline of her breast; he pinched the nipple maliciously, stealing a whimper from the girl. His hand slipped down until it sneaked below the only piece of fabric that covered her. Past the mound of hair he wet his digits on her pussy, going up and down, ignoring the crying bead on purpose.

“Pl- please,” she breathed out.

“Uh?”

“I- I said please,” their eyes met. His were determined and playful, hers were pleading.

With a devious smile Remus decided to put her out of her misery and roll measured circles on her clit. Remus knew Y/n was close when the hand held hostage behind her back started to twitch; she also tried to keep her thighs relaxed, but he knew that subtle trembling too well.

The werewolf kissed her neck while diverted his fingers inside of her. First one, then another. He pumped his long fingers into her enough times to open her up, ease his way between her legs. First shallow, then deep. She swore she could feel the protruding scars caress her inner walls.

Once again, in the verge of the orgasm, he let her go. Putting his wet hand on her hip and freeing her arm from his hold. Her hands flew to his belt to unbuckle it. He held her thin hands between his and grabbed his erect member, guiding her through the up-and-down movements. She looked down, embarrassed to be so enraptured in the action.

“Look at me.”

She held her head up, looking shy beyond his shoulder, disobeying his request deliberately. He knew, then: she still resented him. Before he could say anything to defend his case, Y/n turned around and pulled down her underwear. As the small fabric fell to the floor, she straightened up and grabbed the nearest bedpost with her ass perked up.

Remus put a firm hand on her shoulder and pushed her head to side with his, trying to make space to kiss. She could feel his wet tip hitting against her butt cheeks. His hips were rutting against her while his mouth was devouring her soft neck.

“Are you sure?” He whispered in her ear. Goosebumps traveled through her sides; she nodded.

“No, use your words. Come on”

The smallest “yes” came out of her lips. Remus knew he wouldn’t get anything clearer nor louder than that. Anchoring on her hips, he pushed her close to him and grabbed his cock to position it on her entrance.

Neither could keep a sigh of pleasure in at the first stretch. Remus thanked the Gods for her existence and her acknowledgment of his; never in his craziest dreams he thought he could be with someone like her. A long list was the one to enumerate all the ways she was perfect, far more noble and good than Remus; her pussy was in the top five.

He bottomed out and stayed still for a minute, letting her accommodate to his size. He inhaled the scent of her loose curls: fig and honey, his favorite. With a tortuous kiss on her cheek he started rocking inside of her. He held her between his hands like the fourth leaf of a clover, raising a hand to fondle her tits.

The witch could feel his love being poured in the swing of his hips. He was truly sorry (–or very drunk–), she knew, because this is what she had always asked of him and rarely received: to be a little vulnerable, to show her something more than a need to release. The way his breathing fell on her jaw, his arms surrounded her torso, his inhibited grunts matched the thumps… it was perfect, just not what she wanted now.

He treated her horribly hours before, denying her help with the upcoming full moon and talking to her like she was an ignorant idiot. He was so confusing: then, he wanted her far from his life, now, he was holding onto her with all the love and need. He was so mindful and delicate, his cock hit her spot over and over again and it felt so nice that she got mad. She wanted him to unload his frustrations on her, not protect her from already inflicted pain.

“Remus,” she used a hand to halt his movements behind her, “don’t be kind.”

Remus, who was drunk in pleasure, let go of wariness and the fear of hurting her and took a firm hold of the woman in front of him. His hips pounded in and out of Y/n taking the air out of her; he looked down and delighted himself with the view of her arched back and plump ass. Quickly, the slapping sound between the flesh was accompanied by a squelching one; Remus rolled his eyes and kissed the back of her head as she got wetter. The girl moaned his name like a prayer and stammered out scoldings and praises in an hushed erotic whisper.

He paused for a second to turn and lay down his witch on the edge of the mattress. He folded over her, keeping a steady, hard pace. His eyes looked for her, he was missing the connection, a glance to say there’s so many things that I feel that I can’t put words to, but she closed her eyes in feigned focus.

“Look at me,” he framed her face with his big hand. She turned a deaf ear and kept panting, concentrating on the pleasurable new angle.

“Come on,” nothing still. “You know, I–,” she squeezed him hard interrupting his sentence; the corners of her lips raised lightly. “I won’t let you come if you don’t look at me.”

Remus decreased his tempo, rolling his hips heavily against hers. Her eyebrows met and he knew he put her in trouble. A senseless murmur spilled from her throat in the sweetest tone, the werewolf almost melted. He rolled his pelvis closer knowing it would graze her clit and she immediately dug her red nails into his biceps; he smiled triumphant. Her moans increased and he watched her struggle to keep the composure, she needed permission to come.

Just like minutes before, her eyes opened painfully slow. This time, she was greeted by Remus’ glowing face, looking at her with serious devotion and the ghost of a grin. Behind him, an almost round, luminous circle peaked behind the window: the moon.

“Hey there–”

“Harder, please, I- I wanna come,” she begged breathless, dazed by his ministrations and the beautiful light behind his strong frame.

“Shh, don’t worry. I’ll let you come, sweetheart”

Remus increased the rhythm without taking his gaze off off her. She held his face between her hands and drew him closer to conceal her moans between his lips. Surrounding her legs against his torso Y/n asked if she could come and Remus replied with a simple “Yes, love, I’ve got you”. Immediately after, he came inside her with a groan, hiding his face in the gap between her shoulder and neck, her sweetest spot.

The clouds started weeping again, never covering the silver balloon, the protagonist of the night.

The moon looked at the girl laying sweaty on the bed. On top of her, Remus relished in the sole advantage of his condition: heightened feelings. He caressed her sides, looking to say I’m sorry, once again. She looked back at the moon and brought the werewolf to her lips for another round; tomorrow the man would be the moon’s, but tonight he was all hers.

[lovegasmic]

⋆ SATORU IS NEEDY NEEDY.

 ★  mdni. gn!reader ◞ semi public sex ( restaurant's bathroom ) ◞ cumming inside◞ this is actually a rewritten post with some edits here and there.

“come here”

your phone rings with an incoming text from your blue eyed boyfriend, who just happened to disappear into the bathroom merely a second ago while you made your way to the restaurant’s parking lot downstairs, the car key clicking in your hand since you were about to wait for him in the vehicle.

“hurry up”

“sos”

“its an emergency!”

he continues to text and a grimace spreads through your face at his sudden urge to have you ‘help’ him in the bathroom, you had no toilet paper around...

with a deep and almost tired sigh you play along to whatever scheme Satoru was plotting now.

grateful that the bathrooms were near the restaurant’s exit, slightly hidden behind a wall division.

a knock on the door, once, twice, no response, “Satoru?” you call and a second later his hand comes out from the ajar door, dragging you into the small yet luxury bathroom, a soft thud resonating in the space when your chest slams against the wood, and your boyfriend giggling on your back.

“Satoru, what the hell are you doing?” you grumble with an annoyed tone, doing your best effort in at least moving your head to a side, watching the white haired man from above your shoulder.

“what do you think i’m doing?” he teases, an always present smirk on his face as he cups your hips between his big palms, pushing you back to meet the growing erection in his pants, “you’re so tempting, wearing this cute outfit all for me, hm? it was so hard not to drag you here as soon as we arrived and fuck you silly” words muttered on your neck along a fake sadness on his voice, his hips never stopping grinding against your ass.

“not here!” you hiss, futilely trying to separate your body from Satoru’s and the door, the motion only forcing his bulge to rub harder on your soft skin.

“you better keep quiet” is what he replies instead, pulling your pants and underwear down enough for his hands to spread your legs, loving how willingly you allow him to manhandle your cute body until you’re arched and Satoru whistles at the sight.

“shut up, and hurry” you mutter through the warmth blooming up your neck and face, letting your hands rest on the wood in front of you along with your chest, nails scratching the material slightslightly as Satoru’s engorged tip rubs on your hole, luckily you fucked that same morning, allowing the stretch of his massive length to be more bearable.

“so fuckin’ hot” Satoru groans on your neck, nibbling on the skin to muffle his high pitched moans, hips immediately picking up the pace to pounding into your needy hole, hard and precise while his hands occupied themselves fondling your ass and hips, angling them until you whine.

“baby, look at me” he half mutters half grunts, cupping the back of your neck to turn your head and claim your lips, successfully swallowing your cries as you orgasm at an surprising speed, the tight squeeze of your hole forcing Satoru to cum almost immediately with a whispered curse, pulling you impossibly closer to his chest while his breathing steadied.

a breathless laugh catches your attention, noticing how the blue eyed man was checking on his watch, “that’s a new record” he winks, “wanna go again?”

needless to say that you smacked him in the head.

[pyjamatranslation]

Home to You

Plot: Robby finally gets home after his long shift

A/N: 1.1K of pure FLUFFFFF and comfort for the saddest man in the world

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Please tell me you’re at home. 

You smile at the unexpected text.  He’s usually too busy on shift to reach out.  You open your camera app and tilt your phone so it captures both the cup of tea in your hand and the geriatric cat at your feet pestering you for more food.  The picture sends and before you’re done typing a message to gently ask about his day, his reply comes through.

Thank God.  MCI. I might be here all night.

Oh fuck, not today.  He’d wavered a million times about going into work today.  You stand to go turn on the news but pause, tapping out a reply, knowing he likely only has a minute before he needs to prep for the incoming chaos.  

I’m sorry, I hoped you’d have an easy day.  I love you.  

Love you too. 

- - - - -

You sleep fitfully, half listening for a sign he’s home.  You roll over and squint at the clock reading 4:23 am, huffing because you normally have to peer around him to see the clock.  The sound of the shower has you throwing off the covers.  You stumble sleepily to the bathroom, squinting against the sudden light.  

“Michael?” You call out.  The lack of answer is not a good sign.  Stripping off your pyjamas, you pull the curtain back and step into the shower behind him.  You call his name again and he looks at you over his shoulder.  You make a pained noise at the absolutely shattered expression you see in his big brown eyes.  You reach for him and he turns to wrap his arms around you.  Holding him hard and tight like you can keep him from breaking, you return his embrace.  The shower spray runs over you, cold now from however long he stood there alone.  He’s all heart and you hate not being able to shield him from the worst of it.  He ducks his head to press a kiss to your shoulder and you run your hand along his neck and up around his head.  He sighs, finally getting the comfort he’s been trying to mimic all day with his own hands.  Nothing come close to this comfort, to the feel of you.  

Eventually, you feel his grip on you loosen and you know he’s over the worst of it.  You reach and adjust the water temp, returning it to a soothing warmth.  You start to pull away to reach for his body wash but he protests.  Snagging your own instead because it’s closer, you forego the loofa in favour of using your hands, hoping to ground him with your touch.  Your hands smooth over his slick skin, lathering over his tired muscles, and washing away some of the guilt and stress he’s brought home from work.  Clean now, lighter than before, he brings his forehead down to touch yours.  

“How did I get so lucky?” He wonders.  

“That’s my line,” you answer.  You tilt your chin up to press your mouth against his gently.  “Time for bed.”  He hums in agreement and you step out of the shower, towelling each other dry.  

You step away from Robby to get to your side of the bed but he groans and pulls you back to him, wrapping his arms around you.  You stand at the edge of your bed and look up at him, shaking your head no but he nods yes. A ghost of a smile on his lips has you grabbing onto him as he leans so that you free fall and tumble into bed together.  You toss your damp hair away from your neck and shoulders, more on the pillow above your head as Robby shifts down to lay his head on your chest.  Your hands come up to cradle his head and trace patterns along his shoulders and neck.  He settles half tucked into your side, half on top of you with his leg between yours.  Your chest aches with love for this man.  

- - - - -

Robby wakes slowly, chasing the scent of your body wash and surprised to find himself alone in bed, except for the cat curled up where you should be.  He sighs as he realizes you've gone to work. He pets the cat who gives him side-eye for interrupting its sleep but immediately starts purring at the contact.  Looking over at the clock, the numbers are obscured by something.  Reaching over, he pulls the sticky note from the clock and reads the message in the dim morning light.

[ Go back to bed. You need more sleep ]

He smiles at the note.  You were obsessed with the little sleep he seems to run on.  If you only got 6 hours of sleep, you were a caffeine-dependent zombie.  You were probably one today after his late night and your mid-morning shower.  He gets up anyway, opting to nap later, if he needs it.  In the bathroom, he finds another note on the mirror.  

[ Morning Handsome ]

He looks between the note and his reflection, noting the grey in his beard and the lines by his eyes.  He shakes his head but can’t help a small smile from forming.  

In the kitchen, he finds more notes.  You left a box of oatmeal and a box of cereal on the counter with notes that say,

[ Old man fuel ] and [ College boy breakfast ]

He huffs a laugh at your comments and notices the third post-it note on a tea towel covering a dish that says,

[ Breakfast of champions ]

He lifts the tea towel and sees the brownies you baked last night.  He thinks of you making them.  Was it stress-baking or were you filling time?  Had you made them while he was up on the roof?  He tries to shake off the guilt and succeeds a little, more than he could during the shift.  He still sees all the people he couldn’t save, but it feels less life-consuming here.  Robby knows he’ll call you next time he’s crumbling.  He’s pretty sure the comfort and peace he feels now would come through the phone.  You aren’t even here and he feels so loved.  

He opens the cupboard for a mug and warmth blooms in his chest at the note there.

[ I love you ]

He finds more notes throughout the day.  One on the couch that says,

[ Nap here ↓ ] 

There’s a scandalous one in the laundry room stuck to a pair of his underpants that has his eyebrows shoot way up,

[ God, I love your big…] the note trails off and has an arrow suggesting more on the back.  He flips the note and you’ve drawn a giant heart.  Robby laughs out loud and shakes his head.  

He finds himself collecting them, searching for more.  There are a few more [ I love you ] notes around.  He ends up putting them in his backpack, planning to adorn his locker with them.  Pieces of you to keep with him when he's on shift.   

[requiemforthepoets]

it’s you that i’ve been waiting for, all of my life ⟢ LN4

final part of the crazy rich asians au ⟢ part one part two

PAIRINGS: lando norris x asian!female!reader

SUMMARY: with a lot of your family and friends are either getting engaged or married, it made you think about a lot of things—well, mostly marriage.

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

WARNINGS: non-use of y/n, reader is asian, foul language, traditional family, asian culture & tradition, food, crazy rich asians inspired + plot, heiress reader, named characters (except reader, names are mostly taken from CRA), social status, high society, mentions of marriage, reader having a wedding fever, fluff, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 9.6k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: finallyyyy, this is the last part of my crazy rich asians au. the rest of the updates for this series is already smaus—which will be updated sporadically. to all that read, commented, and reblogged, thank you so much from the bottom of my heart. tbh, i wasn’t even sure/confident with this three part series bc it was literally my first time writing this kind of fic, so thank you so much. as always, your reblogs/comments are highly appreciated, and i hope that you’ll enjoy this last part! also, happy new year, guys! 🥺❤️

You and Lando had just finished settling into your hotel, when your phone buzzed with an incoming facetime call from Nick. Surprised but not entirely shocked by his timing, you answered the call and held your phone up as you sat on the edge of the bed. Nick’s face appeared on the screen, expression tense and unusually serious.

“Hey, is Rachel with you right now?” he asked without preamble, tone laced with urgency.

You frowned, confused by the question. “No, she’s not,” you replied, glancing at Lando, who was sitting on the edge of the bef watching your conversation. “Lando and I already left Singapore earlier, we’re in Malaysia right now. Why? Is everything okay?”

Nick ran a hand through his hair, exhaling heavily before diving into the whole explanation. He told you and Lando about how your Auntie Eleanor had hired a private investigator to dig into Rachel’s background. Your stomach sank as he laid it all out—the dossier that your Auntie Eleanor had compiled, which included several Chinese news articles and missing person reports with Rachel’s mother’s photo. All these revelations had been shared with your Ah Ma at the wedding reception, and things had escalated from there.

You can slightly hear Nick’s voice trembling as he recounted how your Ah Ma had become mad and forbid Rachel from continuing her relationship with him, declaring that Rachel’s family background poses a threat to your family’s reputation. The words made your chest tighten, and you felt a mix of anger and sadness bubbling inside of you. Then it all started to make sense now—Rachel’s disoriented state, the way she fled from the reception without looking back.

“Wait,” you interjected, still processing everything. “Ah ma was at Colin and Minty’s wedding? I didn’t even see her, she rarely goes to events like that unless her presence is absolutely necessary.”

Nick nodded, confirming your thoughts. “She was there. It wasn’t planned for her to come, but I think Mom had managed to convince her.”

You sighed. “Well, that explained a lot. No wonder Rachel was running off like that, she must’ve been completely blindsided.”

He paused before continuing. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of her, but she’s not answering my calls or texts. I just—” he trailed off, his frustration evident.

Thinking quickly, you remembered something Rachel had mentioned in passing. “Maybe she’s staying at her best friend’s house? She told me once that she has a close friend in Singapore.”

Nick’s eyes lit up slightly. “That's a possibility. I’ll try to find out where her friend lives.”

“Do you need me to come back?” you asked, words spilling out before you could second-guess them. “Lan and I can fly back to Singapore tonight if you think it’ll help.” you glanced at Lando, who nodded in silent agreement.

He shook his head quickly. “No, no, don’t worry about it. I think I can handle it for now. But if Rachel answers your texts or calls, can you let me know right away?”

“Of course,” you said firmly. “I’ll text her again and keep you updated.”

“Thanks,” Nick said with a small, grateful smile.

“But hey, listen,” you said carefully, “if you find Rachel—in which I know that you will, you have to give her some time. Don’t push her, and don’t force anything.”

Nick was quiet on the other end, so you took it as a queue to continue. “She’s been blindsided, completely blindsided by all of it. Think about it, the information that Auntie Eleanor dumped on her, how it was thrown at her, none of it was easy for her to process. She didn’t even see it coming, and honestly, no one would’ve been ready for something like that.”

“I know,” Nick murmured. “But I just want to fix it. I want her to know that none of this changes how I feel about her.”

“I know you do,” you said gently. “But right now, Rachel needs space to process everything. Imagine if you’re in her shoes—finding out things about your family’s past in such a public and humiliating way. That kind of betrayal isn’t easy to shake off, especially when it comes out of nowhere.”

You paused, choosing your words carefully. “You have to be patient with her, Nick. Let her come to you when she’s ready. If you try to force her to talk or rush through it, it might just push her further away.”

There was another silence, then a resigned sigh from Nick. “You’re right,” he admitted. “I hate it, but you’re right. I just feel so useless sitting here, doing nothing.”

“Nicky, you’re not doing nothing,” you assured him. “The best thing you can do right now is respect her boundaries and be ready when she’s ready. Let her know you’re there, but don’t overwhelm her, and Nick…” you trailed off.

You briefly hesitated before adding, “Rachel was thrown into a pit of wolves. Our family, for all its grandeur and well, admit it or not, can be really cruel. She wasn’t prepared for it, but that’s not on her—it’s completely on us, and if you love her, you’ll help her navigate through it when she finally comes around.”

Nick’s voice softened. “I do love her, more than anything.”

“This might sound very cliché, but trust the process,” you said. “She’ll come back to you when she’s ready, and when she does, you’ll be there for her.”

“Thanks again,” he said quietly. “I really needed to hear that.”

“Anytime,” you replied. “Just keep me updated, okay? Don’t lose hope.”

“I won’t,” Nick promised.

“Alright, take care.” you said before ending the call.

As the screen went dark, you tossed your phone onto the bed with a sigh, staring at the ceiling in frustration. Your call to Rachel had gone straight to voicemail, and though you had sent her a message, you couldn’t shake the knot of worry in your chest. Flopping down beside your phone, you exhaled deeply. The fact that your Auntie Eleanor had gone so far as to hiring a private investigator made your blood boil. It was not just meddling—it felt invasive and cruel.

“Why?” you muttered to yourself, running a hand through your hair. “Why did she have to go that far?”

Lando glanced over you from where he was sitting, watching you silently for a moment before he laid down beside you on the bed.

“Hey,” he said softly, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “What’s on your mind?”

“It’s just…Auntie Eleanor. Why would she do something like that? Nick and Rachel were happy, and Ah Ma already liked Rachel, so why did she have to ruin it all? What does it even accomplish?” your voice wavered slightly as you spoke, your emotions bubbling to the surface.

Lando listened patiently, letting you vent. When you paused, he gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I get it,” he said gently. “It’s frustrating, and it’s not fair to Rachel. But you know Nick, he’s not going to give up on her just because of this. They’ll figure it out eventually.”

You looked at him, brows furrowed. “But what if they don’t? What if this just ruins everything?”

“It won’t,” he said firmly. “They’ve come this far, haven’t they? Something like this might take time to work through, but if they’re meant to be, they’ll find their way back to each other. You’ve got to believe in that.”

His words were calming, and you found yourself nodding slowly. “You’re right,” you said, though the knot in your chest didn’t fully loosen. “I just want them to have the happy ending they deserve.”

“And they will,” Lando assured you with a small smile. “But right now, you’ve got to focus on what you can control. We’re in Malaysia, come on, let’s enjoy our time. Relax, and take a breather from all the chaos back in Singapore.”

You gave Lando a weak smile, appreciating his efforts to make everything better. “Yeah, you’re right. We should make the most of it while we’re here.” pushing yourself off the bed, you glanced towards your suitcase. “We’ve got dinner plans later, don’t we?”

Lando grinned, standing up and holding out his hand to help you. “We do. Let’s go have a great night.”

You took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet, and smiled at him. “Alright.”

The first day in Malaysia began early, with the rising sun casting a soft golden glow as you and Lando set off for George Town in Penang. The drive was long, roughly about four hours from Kuala Lumpur, where you’re staying, but the journey was as much a part of the adventure as the destination. Lando was behind the wheel, where one of his hands was steady on the wheel, and his other free hand was laced on your fingers. His eyes occasionally darted towards you while you admired the scenery as you passed by.

“So,” he started, glancing at you with a teasing smile, “are you going to be my personal tour guide for the day?”

You grinned, looking at him. “Of course.”

When you arrived, George Town immediately swept you off of your feet. The streets were alive with so much color and culture, with the British colonial buildings standing gracefully alongside vibrant Chinese shophouses and intricate mosques. The air smelled of spices and street food, and the chatter of locals filled the space with a sense of warmth and energy.

“Look at that one,” he said, pulling you gently toward a painting of a little boy riding a bicycle. “We have to take a photo here.”

Lando pulled out his camera and posed next to the mural, with a wide grin on his face. “Your turn, come on,” he said after snapping his photo, motioning for you to take his place. “Hold on,” he gestured for you to pose in front of the mural. You rolled your eyes playfully but obliged to his request, striking a simple pose.

“Perfect,” he said as he snapped the photo before lowering the camera. “Though the real thing’s better than the photo,” he added cheekily, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on your cheek.

“Smooth,” you teased, shaking your head but smiling nonetheless.

You wandered through the streets hand in hand, occasionally stopping every so often to admire the architecture of the small shops selling everything ranging from antiques to handmade crafts. At one point, Lando pulled you into a quiet alley where a local artist was painting a new mural. He tilted his head, examining the work.

“Think I could pull something like this off?” he joked, referring to the mural’s intricate design.

“Absolutely not,” you replied, laughing. “But I’d pay good money to watch you try.”

The day would not have been complete without food. You introduced Lando to char kway teow, a flavorful stir-fried noodle dish. He took his first bite, his expression shifting from curiosity to delight.

“Okay, this is incredible,” he said, nodding enthusiastically as he went for another bite.

“You have a good taste,” you replied, stealing a noodle from his plate.

“You mean you have a good taste,” he corrected.

The day continued like that—strolling, laughing, stealing kisses, and taking photos. Every corner of George Town seemed to hold a story, and every moment felt like it was just for the two of you.

As the sun began to set, the sky turned a warm orange, and Lando snapped one final photo. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget today,” he said softly, looking at you instead of the view.

You smiled, squeezing his hand. “Me neither.”

The second day began with the sun streaming through your window, casting a warm glow over the start of what you knew would be an unforgettable day. After breakfast, you and Lando set off for Paradise 101 in Langkawi, a private island that promised a perfect blend of adventure and relaxation, and just an hour away.

As soon as you stepped onto the island, the soft sound of the waves lapping against the shore and the salty breeze filled your senses. Lando reached out for your hand, giving it a light squeeze he looked out at the clear blue sky.

“Ready for some adventure?” he asked with a contagious smile.

“Always,” you replied, already feeling the excitement bubbling up.

The first activity on the list was parasailing, something you had always wanted to try. Strapped into the harness side by side, the instructor began counting down, and then, the boat picked up speed, lifting you and Lando off the ground, soaring above the waters. The world below looks so tiny, and the ocean stretches endlessly beneath your feet.

“This is insane!” Lando shouted over the wind.

You turned your head to look at him, his expression lit up with excitement. “Right? Look at that amazing view!” you replied, pointing towards the horizon where the ocean met the sky.

“Look something out of the painting,” then glancing at you, there was a mischievous glint in Lando’s eyes. “Though the view isn’t half as good as the one next to me.”

You laughed, swatting at him lightly. “You’re such a cheeky little shit.”

When your feet touched the sand again, Lando was already pulling you toward the ziplining station. The zipline took you across the island’s canopy, and each time you landed, Lando was there waiting, stealing quick kisses before moving to the next line.

“Race you to the bottom,” Lando challenged, a mischievous smile lighting up his face.

“Oh, you’re on,” you replied, determined.

As the two of you zipped down, the wind whipping past, the sound of your laughter had filled the air. Lando had beaten you to the bottom, of course, but he immediately pulled you into a hug when you joined him, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

The afternoon was reserved for a private yacht cruise, just the two of you. As the boat glided through the calm waters of Langkawi’s northern coast, you couldn’t help but marvel at the picturesque coastline, with the emerald-green water shimmering under the sun.

“Perfect, isn’t it?” Lando asked, leaning back beside you, his sunglasses perched on his nose.

“Perfect,” you agreed, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his.

“You know,” he began, “we should bring the others here sometimes. They’d love this.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” you replied, looking at him. “Though I kind of like it being just us right now.”

“Me too,” he said, voice soft, brushing a kiss on your forehead.

You decided to give kayaking a try, but knowing Lando, it probably would be a chaotic one. “You’re paddling the wrong way, babe!” you exclaimed as Lando’s oar splashed water everywhere. “Are you sure you know how to paddle?”

“Of course I do!” he argued.

Lando was just kept on paddling in circles, the kayak even refused to cooperate—or so he claimed.

“Babe! You’re just steering us into circles. You’re doing it wrong!” you called out, grinning mischievously.

“I’m not—hold on, are you gaslighting me right now?” he accused, realizing your game.

“I would never!” you said, feigning innocence.

Lando almost toppled over the kayak trying to adjust, and you couldn’t contain your laughter. But eventually, you found your rhythm, paddling side by side through the tranquil waters.

“Okay, maybe this teamwork thing isn’t so bad after all,” he admitted, voice softer now.

“You think?” you teased, glancing at him with a smile.

The highlight of the day came with the private UNESCO Geopark mangrove cruise. You and Lando had been transferred to a small explorer boat, where you were taken through a landscape that felt almost otherworldly. Sheer limestone cliffs rose majestically from the water, their forms resembling ancient temples.

“This is incredible,” Lando murmured, voice tinged with awe as he leaned over the side of the boat.

You nodded, eyes fixed on the towering cliffs. “It feels like we’ve stepped into another world.”

The guide led you through the Tanjung Rhu River, Kisap River, and Kilim River, each stretch offering breathtaking views. At one point, you visited a fish farm and even ventured into the crocodile and bat cave, marveling at the natural formations.

When the cruise ended, the day slowly gave way to evening, and you returned to the resort. Lando had made a reservation for an outdoor dinner at the resort’s restaurant, with the table set against the backdrop of the sparkling Andaman Sea.

You were sitting right across from Lando, the soft glow of the setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink. “Today was really perfect,” you said, voice warm.

Lando reached across the table, taking your hand in his. “Well, that’s because I spent it with you.”

“To more days like this,” you said, raising your glass with your free hand.

“To more days with you,” Lando replied, raising his glass as well.

The waves whispered against the shore as you clink your glasses together, ending the amazing fun filled day in the most serene and beautiful way imaginable.

On the third day, which is your last day in Malaysia, felt like the perfect opportunity to slow down and enjoy a more relaxed pace with Lando. After having your breakfast at the hotel’s restaurant, you decided to explore Kuala Lumpur together and do some shopping, mostly picking out Christmas gifts for family and friends. Your first stop was Cartier, where the staff immediately recognized you and Lando as you entered the boutique.

“Welcome back,” one of them greeted warmly. “Please, follow us to the VIP room.”

The room was elegant and private, with plush seating and pristine glass displays showcasing Cartier’s finest collections. You scanned the displays carefully, selecting gifts that felt personal and meaningful. From time to time, you would turn to Lando for his opinion, holding a piece to show it to him.

“What do you think of this one, love?” you asked, turning a bracelet in your hands.

Lando leaned in to get a closer look, studying it for a brief moment. “It’s nice, but maybe this design suits them better,” he suggested, pointing to another piece that has more classic finish to it.

His input was reassuring, and you found yourself smiling more with every choice you made. So piece by piece, you finalized your selections and decided to have each of it engraved with the names. While the staff began the engraving process, you took the opportunity to explore the display cases further.

Your eyes fell on the iconic Love rings, their sleek designs catching the light. The delicate design, with its understated elegance and signature screw motif had drawn you in immediately. You paused, gazing at them a little longer than you had intended. They were very stunning, and the thought of having matching ones with Lando crept into your mind.

For a moment, you let your mind wander. The thought of having matching Love rings with Lando made your heart flutter. It would be such a sweet symbol of your relationship, a quiet nod to the love you shared. But as quickly as the thought came, doubt crept in. Would he even want to wear something like that? You had only been together for a year, and while your relationship felt deep and serious, you weren’t even sure if he’d see it the same way.

“Miss?” the associate’s voice gently pulled you back to the present. “The items have been engraved and wrapped. Would you like us to send them directly to your hotel?”

You smiled, nodding. “Yes, please. That would be perfect. We still have some plans for the day.”

The associate assured you that everything would be taken care of. You thanked them again and turned to Lando, who was casually leaning against the counter, watching you with an easy smile. What you didn’t realize was that he had caught the way your gaze lingered on the Love rings earlier. But he decided not to say anything, only offering you his hand as the two of you prepared to leave.

“Ready to go?” he asked, voice gentle.

“Yes, let’s go,” you replied, sliding your hand into his.

As you both left the store hand in hand, the shopping bags destined for your hotel, Lando’s mind was already working, his thoughts drifting back to the love rings and making a mental note.

Finally, Dior was your final stop, and as you stepped into the elegantly designed VIP room, the ambiance felt as refined and luxurious as always. The staff greeted you warmly, offering refreshments and giving you a moment to settle in before showing you all of the latest collections.

You browsed through the items thoughtfully, then occasionally turning to Lando for his input, yet again, on potential gifts and personal picks. He followed you closely, hands tucked casually in his pockets, his easy demeanor adding a comfortable balance.

As you admired a pair of beautiful heels, Lando leaned in slightly, tone light but teasing. “You know your luggage is already packed to the brim, right?”

You paused mid-reach, blinking at him as his words sank in. “Wait…really?”

He nodded, trying to suppress a grin. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure you’d have to sit on it just to zip it up.”

With the sudden realization, you glanced back at the shelves, and you turned to the sales associate with a smile. “Do you have any luggage available in stock?”

The associate’s face lit up. “We do, actually! Let me bring it out for you.”

As the associate disappeared into the back, Lando let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “Only you would come shopping for gifts and leave with luggage to carry it all.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, nudging his arm. “Well, if you’re going to go shopping, might as well do it properly.”

The associate soon returned, rolling out a sleek Dior luggage piece in a design you hadn’t seen before that caught your attention immediately. Its understated design and impeccable craftsmanship stood out, and you took a moment to examine it closely.

“This is perfect,” you said decisively, a satisfied smile spreading across your face. “I’ll take it. I don’t have one in this design yet, so it’ll be a great addition.”

Lando chuckled softly beside you as you made your way to the counter. When the associate had totaled the purchase, he casually pulled out his black card and handed it over, placing it on the counter.

“Here, I’ve got this,” he said smoothly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small grin.

“No,” you reached into your bag without hesitation, pulling out your own black card and handing it to the associate directly. “I’m paying for this, please. It’s my shopping.”

The associate glanced between the two of you, clearly confused and trying to decide whose card to take. You were sure that the associate would take your card, so you focused briefly on a nearby display of handbags, thinking which designs might fit into your collection. While you were distracted, Lando seized the opportunity.

“Swipe it on mine,” he said quietly, giving the associate a quick, reassuring nod.

By the time you turned your attention back, the transaction was already complete, and the staff were carefully packing the luggage and other items into Dior’s signature paper bags.

“What just happened?” you asked, narrowing your eyes slightly as Lando smiles cheekily at you.

“Nothing, babe,” he replied, tone far too innocent to be convincing. “Just making sure you’re not overworking your card today.”

You sighed, half-exasperated but mostly amused. “You’re impossible.”

“Just making sure your new luggage is properly christened,” he teased.

Shaking your head with a small smile, you turned back to the associate and asked, “would it be possible to have everything be delivered to our hotel? We’ve got a dinner reservation coming up, and it would be easier if we didn’t have to carry all this.”

“Of course, Miss,” they replied, nodding. “We’ll ensure everything is delivered promptly.”

“Thank you,” you said warmly before turning back to Lando. “Ready to go?”

Lando placed a hand on the small of your back, guiding you towards the exit. “Let’s go.”

By the time you stepped out of Dior, the soft glow of dusk had already begun to settle over the city, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The streets were alive with the hum of evening traffic, but your thoughts were focused on the dinner reservation at Akar Dining.

The drive to the restaurant was peaceful, with Lando’s hand resting on your thigh as the car navigated the streets. You arrived just in time, the warm ambiance of the restaurant immediately wrapping around you as you stepped inside, the host greeted you and guided you to your table. Lando, ever the gentleman, pulled out your chair, his hand lingering briefly on the back of it as you sat down.

“Thank you,” you murmured with a small smile, adjusting the hem of your dress as you settled in.

Lando took his seat across from you just as a waiter approached your table with the menus. The dimly lit atmosphere, paired with the sophisticated decor had made the evening feel intimate and special. As you scanned the menu, your eyes immediately caught a few dishes you knew you would enjoy, while Lando appeared slightly less certain.

“So, what are you thinking of getting?” you asked, glancing up from your menu to find him frowning slightly.

“Honestly?” he set the menu down for a moment, leaning back in his chair. “Most of these seafood dishes aren’t really my thing.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “It’s fine, just pick something else. You don’t have to love everything on the menu.”

Eventually, he decided on the braised aged duck, and you ordered a seafood dish that intrigued you. As you waited for the food, you took a sip of your water, your gaze lingering on Lando. The memory of what happened at Dior earlier was still fresh in your mind, and you decided to address it.

“By the way,” you began, setting your glass down. “Thank you for paying earlier at Dior, but you really didn’t have to, Lan.”

Lando shrugged casually, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Of course I did. You shouldn’t have to pay for something when I’m right here.”

You sighed lightly, tilting your head at him. “Lan, I can pay for my own things. I don’t want to rely on you all the time, especially when it’s my shopping.”

“I know you can,” he replied, tone soft but firm. “But that doesn’t mean I want you to. It’s not about whether you can afford it—it’s about me wanting to take care of you.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off with a playful grin. “And before you argue, I’m not budging on this.”

“Well, if you’re so insistent on paying for everything,” you said, leaning forward slightly, “then at least let me pay for dinner tonight.”

“Not happening, love,” he said simply, leaning back in his chair with an air of finality.

“Lando,” you started, but the waiter returned just then with your food, momentarily halting the conversation.

As you both began to eat, you couldn’t help but glance at him occasionally, trying to come up with a way to outmaneuver him when the bill comes. Lando seemed thoroughly engrossed in his braised aged duck, nodding approvingly after the first few bites.

“This is actually really good,” he remarked, gesturing to his plate with his fork.

“It was worth the try,” you said with a satisfied smile, enjoying your own meal.

When the plates were cleared, the waiter had returned with the bill, and you reached for it instinctively, smiling as you’re about to get a hand on it, but to your dismay, Lando was faster. He snatched it from the waiter’s hand with a smoothness that left you momentarily stunned, his card already out and ready. Without a word, he placed it on the bill and handed it back to the waiter before you could even blink.

“Lando Norris!” you hissed, voice a mix of exasperation and disbelief. “I told you I was paying for dinner.”

“And I told you that you’re not,” he replied, tone calm and unbothered.

You stared at him, incredulous. “You can’t keep doing this. I have my own money, you know. I don’t need you to pay for everything, my love.”

“I know you don’t,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “But I wanted to. A gentleman never let his woman pay. End of story.”

“But—”

“No buts,” he interrupted gently, gaze soft but resolute. “I know that you’re independent, and I love that about you. But letting me take care of you every now and then doesn’t make you any less independent.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “At some point, you have to let me pay too. I don’t want to feel like I’m relying on you for everything.”

“I get that. But tonight isn’t the point,” he said, as his thumb gently caressed your knuckles and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly. “Letting me take care of you once in a while doesn’t mean you’re relying on me. It just means that I love you.”

Your heart softened at his words, the sincerity in his voice melting away your objections. “Fine,” you murmured, though a playful edge crept into your tone. “But one day, you’re letting me pay for something. Mark my words.”

Lando chuckled, leaning back in his chair with a wide grin. “We’ll see about that.”

After an amazing dinner, you were finally back in your hotel. The moment you stepped inside the room, the exhaustion from the day’s adventures hit you like a wave. You slipped off your sandals with a sigh of relief, placed your bag on the vanity, and immediately collapsed onto the plush bed, letting the softness swallow you whole. Lando was not far behind, shutting the door with a soft click before walking over to where you lay sprawled out. He chuckled as he kicked off his sneakers, tossing them aside without any care.

“You look absolutely done,” he teased, voice laced with affection.

Without another word, he climbed onto the bed beside you, his arms snaking around your waist as he pulled you close. You didn’t protest, in fact, you just melted into his embrace—his warmth and familiar scent of his cologne instantly soothing your tired muscles.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” you murmured lazily, though you made no effort to move. “We still need to pack for tomorrow. I need to arrange the things we bought today inside the new luggage.”

Lando nuzzled his face into your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “Mhmm…packing can wait.” he said as he kissed your collarbone. “I just want to stay like this for a bit. It’s been such a good trip.”

You smiled faintly, tilting your head slightly to rest against his. “It really has. I think this was exactly what we needed, huh? Just us, no distractions.”

“Uh huh. No meetings, no interruptions…” Lando added with a sigh, tightening his hold on you. “I wish we could stay longer. Feels like I’ve barely scratched the surface here.”

You laughed softly. “You’re the one who extended our stay by an extra day. If we keep this up, we might not even make it to the UK in time for Christmas.”

He groaned dramatically, pulling you even closer. “Fine, you win. We’ll leave tomorrow, but I’m telling you, we’re coming back here next year.”

“Alright,” you replied, voice muffle as you buried your face in his chest.

For a few moments, neither of you spoke, content to lie tangled in each other’s arms as the city lights outside cast a faint glow into the hotel room.

“Okay, okay,” you finally said, breaking the peaceful silence. “We really need to pack, babe. I’m not about to start throwing things into a suitcase at five in the morning.”

He groaned again but rolled over, propping himself up on one elbow as he looked at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “How about I do the packing, and you stay here looking all pretty?”

“Absolutely not,” you replied, swatting his arm lightly. “If you pack, I’ll end up with half my things missing and thrown with wrinkles.”

Lando laughed, sitting up and pulling you up with him. “Alright, fine. Let’s get it over with, but you owe me cuddles afterwards.”

You rolled your eyes playfully as you slid off of the bed. “Deal. Now, let’s get moving before you start whining again.”

He grinned, grabbing his suitcase and tossing it onto the bed with enthusiasm. “You know me so very well.”

As you were neatly folding a dress and placing it neatly in your suitcase, your phone rang, cutting through the quiet hum of activity in the hotel room. You glanced at the screen and saw Nick’s caller ID flashing. Your eyes immediately widened, and your stomach sank slightly—you had completely pushed aside the chaos from earlier in Singapore.

“Nicky,” you murmured, picking up the phone and quickly answering. Lando glanced up from his own packing, curious.

The moment the call connected, Nick’s face filled your screen, grinning from ear to ear. Before you could say anything, he shouted out, “WE’RE GETTING MARRIED!”

Your jaw dropped, and your heart leapt. “WHAT?!” you screamed, startling Lando, who immediately moved closer to check. “Oh my god! Nicky, are you serious?!”

Nick nodded excitedly, his smile growing wider. “Yes! I proposed to Rachel earlier, and she said yes! We’re getting married!”

A loud scream of happiness escaped you, and grabbed both Lando’s hands and jumped up and down, causing Lando to follow your lead, with you chanting ‘Nick and Rachel are getting married’ a couple of times. Both of you jumping like you’re in a cult, chanting to summon something.

“Nicky, this is amazing news! I’m so happy for you and Rachel! Oh my god, I’m going to cry!” you said, nearly dropping your phone in the process.

Lando laughed and leaned into the frame, resting a hand on your waist. “Congratulations, mate! That’s incredible news!”

“Thanks, man!” Nick said, grinning even wider. He turned back to you, clearly eager to share more details. “Mom finally came around, and she gave me the emerald ring to propose with. I actually chased Rachel to the airport, it turns out she was about to leave, already inside the plane and I just dropped on one knee and proposed to her. You should’ve seen Rachel’s face when I pulled out the ring, she was so shocked.”

You clutched your chest dramatically. “Nick, that’s so beautiful. I’m so, so happy for you both.”

Nick chuckled, his excitement very evident. “But wait, there’s more. I’m throwing a surprise engagement party for Rachel tomorrow night, and I need you both there. Please say you can come.”

You glanced over at Lando, your eyes silently asking if he was okay with changing plans. Lando, ever the supportive boyfriend that he is, nodded without any hesitation.

“We’re both in,” you said to Nick. “We’ll fly back to Singapore tomorrow.”

Nick let out a relieved sigh. “Thank you! I can’t wait to see you both, and don’t worry, it won’t be a massive party, just a small gathering of close friends and family.”

“We will not miss it,” you assured him. “But just so you know, we’ll have to leave right after the party. We’re expected in the UK before Christmas.”

“Fair enough,” Nick said, still beaming. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow then, and thank you, both of you, for being there for us.”

“Of course,” you replied, voice soft with emotion. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

After ending the call, you turned to Lando, who was smiling at your obvious joy. “Looks like we’re making another detour,” you said with a laugh.

“Well, wouldn’t have it any other way,” Lando replied, pulling you into a quick hug before returning to his packing.

The flight from Malaysia to Singapore passed quickly, only an hour long. You and Lando had decided to leave in the afternoon to allow yourselves some extra time to relax before the engagement party. By the time the private jet touched down at a private tarmac in Changi Airport, the sky had shifted to a warm, dusky hue.

You were already dressed for the event, adjusting the hem of your dress as you prepared to disembark. Your outfit for tonight complimented Lando’s outfit perfectly, a choice you both had coordinated without much effort. Deciding not to take your belongings off of the jet since you would be leaving Singapore immediately after the party. Taking one final glance at the jet’s sleek interior, you then stepped out.

Lando walked beside you, his hand firmly holding yours as he guided you down the steps of the jet. The heels you wore, though elegant, weren’t exactly forgiving, and his grip gave you the balance you needed. Once you reached the car waiting on the tarmac, he moved ahead, opening the door for you.

“Careful, love,” he murmured, holding out a hand to help you inside.

You gave Lando a small smile as you slid into the seat, careful not to wrinkle your dress. He followed right after, shutting the car door behind him. The soft hum of the car engine filled up the space as the vehicle pulled away, heading towards Marina Bay Sands. You then leaned into Lando slightly.

“You know,” Lando began with a playful smirk, “I think we’ve spent more time in Singapore lately than in Monaco.”

You laughed softly. “Tell me about it. It looks like we’ll be back here again sooner rather than later for Nick and Rachel’s wedding.”

He tilted his head in mock resignation. “I guess I’d better get used to the humidity then.”

“Oh come on,” you gave him a teasing nudge. “You’ve survived it so far. Besides, you look so good here, very tropical chic.”

Lando chuckled, resting his hand on yours. “Thanks, love. But seriously, it feels like everyone’s getting married or engaged all of a sudden. What’s with the December air.”

You sighed dramatically. “Tell me about it. First Colin and Minty, now Nick and Rachel, also don’t forget about my friend from Parsons! She’s getting married in Moscow next year and has already sent in the invitation.”

“Moscow, huh?” he mused. “Another flight for us?”

You glanced at him with a small smile. “If you want to come with me, that is. I don’t want to pressure you into attending all these weddings, I know that it can be really tiring.”

Lando tilted his head, pretending to think it over. “Moscow, a wedding, and a chance to see you again in another dress? Sounds like a total dream, so it’s a yes for me.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, nudging his arm. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love every bit of it,” he quipped, grinning.

As the car drove on, your thoughts began to drift. Weddings, engagements, proposals—it seemed like everyone around you was taking those big steps. You didn’t want to admit it, but that idea of marriage had been creeping into your mind more and more lately. It was not something you wanted to bring up, not yet, but still, it is a topic that had been occupying your mind.

You shook off the feeling, focusing instead on the city lights beginning to twinkle outside the car window. “Yeah, and I think that we’re going to need a bigger calendar,” you joked.

Lando laughed, resting a hand on your knee. “As long as you’re on it, I don’t mind.”

The car rolled to a smooth stop at the grand entrance of Marina Bay Sands, with the city lights reflecting off the sleek glass facade. The chauffeur had exited first, circling around to open your door, and before you could step out, Lando was already at your side, extending a hand to help you out of the car.

“I’ll be here at the agreed time to take you back to the airport, ma’am.” the chauffeur said as he tipped his hat.

“Thank you,” you replied with a polite smile.

Lando intertwined your hands, and you both began walking towards the entrance. The evening air was warm, and the energy surrounding the iconic building was palpable. A few people by the lobby immediately recognized Lando, and their eyes widened when they noticed you by his side.

“Excuse me,” a young woman asked hesitantly, clutching her phone. “Would it be alright if I can get a quick photo with you both?”

Lando exchanged glances with you and nodded warmly. “Of course, just a quick one.”

You stepped aside with him, pausing for a few photos, each person thanking you both profusely afterwards. Once the small crowd dispersed, you and Lando resumed your walk, making your way to the elevators that would take you to the sky deck. The elevator ride was smooth and swift, and when the doors opened, the familiar faces of your family, Nick’s closest friends, and your cousins scattered throughout the beautifully decorated space.

As your eyes scanned the crowd, you spotted your mother first. She stood near one of the seating areas, speaking animatedly with one of your aunts. You guided Lando over, and her expression shifted to surprise the moment she saw you both.

“Darling!” your mother exclaimed, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Hi, Mom,” you greeted, smiling warmly before stepping aside so Lando could greet her.

Your mother opened her arms invitingly. “Lando, come here.”

Lando hugged her briefly but warmly, a soft laugh escaping him. “Hello, Auntie. It’s good to see you again.”

“Likewise,” your mother replied, taking a step back to look at you both. “I thought you’d already be in the UK by now.” she said, raising an eyebrow at you.

“We were supposed to leave after the day after the wedding,” you explained, “but we decided to make a quick stop in Malaysia for a few days. Then Nicky called last night and asked us to come, so here we are.”

She smiled knowingly. “Always the supportive cousin. But you’re leaving tonight?”

“Yes, the jet is on standby at the airport,” you confirmed. “We’ll head straight there after the party.”

Your mother nodded in satisfaction, and gave Lando a pat on the shoulder. “Well, you enjoy yourselves tonight. It’s a rare sight to see you two so relaxed.”

You and Lando exchanged a small smile before moving on to greet Colin and Araminta, who were just chatting near the champagne table.

“Hey!” Colin greeted, giving you both a hug. “I didn’t think we’d see you two again so soon.”

“Neither did we,” you replied with a laugh. “But here we are.”

You turned to Araminta, who hugged you warmly, then stepped back, smiling brightly. “It’s so good to see you again, and Lando, of course! You’re becoming quite the fixture at family events!”

Lando grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Colin smirked. “At this rate, uncle’s going to give him the talk soon, if he hasn’t already. Then we all know whose wedding we’ll be attending soon after Nick and Rachel’s.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Too late, Dad already gave him the talk, and even Ah Ma had given her blessing.”

Lando grinned, playing along. “Proud to say that I’ve passed all the tests by now.”

Araminta gasped dramatically, nudging Colin. “See? It’s official now. We’ll start saving the date!”

The four of you exchanged pleasantries and some laughs for a few moments before your attention was drawn to a surprising sight. Standing by the bar were none other than Bernard and Kitty, a pair you had not expected to see here at all. You caught Lando’s eye, and he gave you a subtle shrug, clearly just as a surprise.

Shaking it off, you turned your focus back, making your way toward your aunts. Auntie Alix, Auntie Eleanor, and Auntie Jacqueline, who were all chatting in a tight circle. You approached with Lando by your side, greeting each of them in turn with a polite kiss on the cheek and a warm smile.

“Ah, you’re here!” your Auntie Alix smiled. “I thought you were in the UK already.”

“Nick called,” you explained with a smile, “so here we are.”

“Well, we’re glad you made it,” your Auntie Jacqueline chimed in, “and you’re glowing tonight.” she added, her gaze flitting between you and Lando.

“Must be the Malaysian sun,” Lando jokes, earning a soft laugh from the group.

Your Auntie Eleanor gave Lando a sharp but playful look. “You’re certainly making yourself comfortable with this family, aren’t you?”

Lando smiled politely. “I’m just trying to keep up,” satisfied with his answer, your Auntie Eleanor waved you off with a chuckle.

Nick and Rachel hadn’t arrived yet, so you and Lando decided to take the opportunity to mingle with other guests. The evening was lively, with laughter and champagne flowing freely.

Several guests had approached you and Lando for photos, and you obliged, posing with ease. Lando kept a hand on your lower back, guiding you smoothly through the crowd as you moved from one group to another.

From across the room, you noticed your cousin Oliver weaving his way through the crowd, a bright smile on his face as he head towards you. As he approached, you and Lando turned to greet him.

“Oliver!” you said warmly, pulling him into a quick hug.

“Hey you two,” he said, giving you both a smile before continuing. “I want to introduce you to Rachel’s best friend. She’s dying to meet you.”

Curious, you exchanged a glance with Lando before agreeing. “Of course! Lead the way.”

Following Oliver, you navigated through the elegantly dressed guests until you stopped in front of a small group of people.

“Here we are,” Oliver said, motioning toward a striking woman with a vibrant smile. “This is Rachel’s best friend, Goh Peik Lin.”

You extended your hand toward her. “Peik Lin, it’s so nice to meet you!”

Peik Lin shook your hand warmly. “And it’s so nice to meet you as well!”

Your gaze traveled briefly over her outfit, a beautifully tailored dress that exuded elegance and sophistication. “I have to say, your outfit is incredible. You have such impeccable taste.”

Her smile widened, excitement evident. “Oh stop, you’re going to make me blush! But thank you, it means a lot coming from someone as stylish as you.”

Oliver then turned to the older couple standing beside Peik Lin. “And these are Peik Lin’s parents, Goh Wye Mun and Goh Nenna.”

You offered a polite smile as you greeted them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both, Mr. and Mrs. Goh.”

Nenna’s eyes sparkled as she took your hand. “Just call us Auntie Nenna and Uncle Wye Mun! And my goodness, you’re even more gorgeous in person! I’ve seen photos of you, and they don’t do you justice! You’re very stunning, my dear!”

You laugh softly, feeling a light warmth rise to your cheeks. “You’re too kind, Auntie Nenna. Thank you so much.”

Then you turned to Wye Mun, whose expression shifted slightly as recognition dawned on him. He tilted his head, studying you for a moment.

“You’re one of Harrison Sr. and Elizabeth Young’s children, aren’t you? Their only daughter,” he said, tone a mixture of surprise and admiration.

You nodded, smiling. “That’s right. I’ve heard of your family before as well. If my memory serves me right, you’re the owner of Goh Developments, correct? One of Singapore’s most successful real estate companies?”

Wye Mun chuckled, clearly pleased. “Yes, that’s about right. I’m flattered you know about us.”

“Of course!” you said. “Your company’s work is extraordinary. Some of your developments are architectural masterpieces.”

The brief exchange shifted naturally into a short discussion about real estate, with Wye Mun enthusiastically sharing tidbits about recent projects. Peik Lin listened intently, Oliver and Lando conversing with each other, while Nenna just watched the whole conversation with a smile.

You then gestured towards Lando afterwards, who had been standing quietly beside you. “Allow me to introduce to you my boyfriend, Lando.”

Lando extended his hand towards Wye Mun, who shook it firmly. Wye Mun’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Ah, Lando Norris! I watched you win the Singapore GP last September. Quite an incredible race, I must say. You’ve got some serious talent.”

“Thank you so much,” Lando said with a polite smile. “It was an unforgettable race for sure.”

“And I didn’t know that you were dating the darling of the Singaporean social elite!” Wye Mun added with a playful tone, eyes twinkling.

“Oh Wye Mun, look at them!” Nenna interjected, her gaze moving between you and Lando. “They look so good together, a very beautiful couple. Perfect match!”

Wye Mun nodded in agreement, tone light. “Quite the power couple, I’d say.”

You couldn’t help but smile at their comment, glancing at Lando, who was already looking at you with a soft expression. “Thank you,” you replied simply.

The conversation continued easily, with the group exchanging stories and laughs. The atmosphere was warm, and you felt genuinely pleased to meet Rachel’s best friend and their family.

As the buzz of conversation faded into hushed whispers, Araminta stepped forward with a smile and announced, “Nick and Rachel are on their way up now! Everyone, take your positions.”

You and Lando stood slightly off to the side, his hand on your waist, caressing it softly and tracing shapes. The elegant lighting of the sky deck reflected off the cityscape, casting a soft glow over the gathered guests.

Lando leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “You know,” he whispered, tone teasing, “it was so hot watching you talk business with Wye Mun earlier. You looked so serious and confident.”

You glanced at him, barely suppressing a smile, and gave his chest a soft slap. “Stop being cheeky right now, Norris,” you muttered, keeping your voice low to avoid drawing any attention.

But it looks like Lando was not done yet. He grinned at you mischievously, his voice dipping lower. “I mean it, baby. The way you talked about developments and projects? Very impressive, very attractive.”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks warmed slightly. “Lando,” you whispered warningly, “behave. This is not the time.”

He bit back a chuckle, amusement evident. “Fine, fine. But you should know, I can’t help it when you’re like that.”

You shushed him quietly, your finger briefly brushing his lips. “Quiet now,” you insisted softly, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention.

As you returned your focus to the party, your thoughts flicked back to your earlier conversation with Wye Mun. Real estate development has always intrigued you—the intricacies, potential, and stories behind every project. It was not just a polite conversation, it was a chance to learn and build connections.

“Besides,” you murmured to Lando, keeping your tone casual, “it’s always good to broaden your network. Even if I already have so many, there’s no harm in widening the circle.”

Lando nodded, his expression now a mix of curiosity and pride. “Well, you’ve got a point,” he said softly.

You let your eyes wander across the crowd, noting a few familiar faces mingling among the guests. “This place is full of businesspeople—major players in the industry, tonight,” you whispered to him. “I can recognize a few who could even be potential sponsors for McLaren.” Lando raised a brow at you, intrigued.

You turned to him, giving him a playful wink. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll help you land a deal or two.”

Lando smirked, leaning in closer to you again. “Now that,” he said, tone low and teasing, “is a kind of teamwork I can get behind.”

The sky deck fell in a hush as everyone stood in their positions, waiting for Nick and Rachel’s arrival. The atmosphere was buzzing, a mix of excitement and happiness among the crowd. The distant hum of the elevator announced their approach, and then, with a soft chime, doors slid open.

Nick stepped out first, his hands gently covering Rachel’s eyes as he carefully guided her forward into the middle of the crowd. Rachel, her posture both curious and expectant, laughed lightly, clearly amused by the surprise. The whole crowd held its collective breath, watching as Nick finally removed his hands from Rachel’s eyes.

The second her eyes opened, the silence of the crowd was replaced with an eruption of cheers and applause. Screams of happiness echoed across the sky deck, led enthusiastically by Colin and Araminta. Rachel’s expression had transformed into one of pure, radiant happiness as she took sight of everyone gathered for her. Overwhelmed with emotion, she raised her hand, showing off the stunning emerald ring that sparkled under the lights, then pointing to it with a grin.

People surged forward, surrounding Nick and Rachel with hugs and congratulations. You and Lando joined in with the crowd, your laughter blending with everyone else’s as you approached the newly engaged couple.

“Congratulations!” you said, beaming as you hugged Rachel tightly. “I’m so happy for you both.”

Nick grinned, pulling you into a quick hug as well. “Thank you for being here. It wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

Lando shook Nick’s hand before giving Rachel a warm hug. “You two are perfect for each other.”

Nick, ever the joker, glanced between you and Lando, a teasing glint in his eyes. “You know,” he began, tone playful, “I have a strong feeling you two might be the next one.”

Rachel, catching on, nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, absolutely! We’ll have to start planning your engagement party real soon.”

You and Lando exchanged amused looks, chuckling. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” you replied, though your heart skipped a beat at the thought.

As much as you adored Nick and Rachel, you did not need them adding more fuel to the fire—you were already simmering with wedding fever.

After the flood of congratulations, Nick took Rachel’s hand and gently guided her attention towards the infinity pool, where a group of synchronized swimmers began an elegant performance, their movements perfectly timed to the music. Rachel gasped softly, her eyes lighting up with wonder as she watched.

Then, from the corner of our eye, you noticed Rachel spotting your Auntie Eleanor standing a little way off. For a brief moment, the noise and excitement seemed to face as the two women exchanged a look, one of understanding and newfound respect. The warmth in Rachel’s smile and the subtle nod from your Auntie Eleanor spoke volumes. It filled your heart with joy to see that your aunt had finally come around, embracing Rachel in the way she deserved.

Nick then pulled Rachel into a tender kiss, earning a round of applause and cheers again from the crowd. Lando stepped behind you, wrapping his arms securely around your waist, holding you close. His chin rested lightly on your shoulder, and you could feel his warmth radiating through you.

The sound of fireworks exploding above pulled everyone’s attention upward. Bright colors lit up the sky, reflecting off the glass and water, painting the moment in vibrant hues. The cheers grew louder, people pointing and marveling at the display. You stayed like that, wrapped in Lando’s arms, watching the sky.

With fireworks still illuminating the sky and Lando’s arms wrapped securely around you, a quiet realization settled in your heart. It was not something sudden, it was something that had been building over time, piece by piece, moment by moment. The depth of love that you feel for Lando was staggering, overwhelming even, and yet it felt so natural.

You had dated before, countless boys who had seemed charming or interesting at the time, but none of them had ever come close to Lando. They never understood you the way Lando did. With him, there was no guessing, pretending, or effort to mold yourself into someone else’s idea of what love should look like. Lando saw you, truly saw you, in a way that no one else ever had. To be seen was to be loved.

This was what set Lando apart. With him, you never had to explain your silences, quirks, or the way your mind wandered to far-off places. He did not just tolerate those things, in fact, he cherished them. He loved them. With Lando, you felt understood in a way that words could never fully capture.

You thought back to the other relationships before Lando, the boys who had come before. They had their moments, but they always felt…incomplete. There had been a disconnect, a lingering sense that you were only partly there, only partly understood. They never have you the feeling that Lando did—feeling of being wholly, entirely loved. Lando was the man that you had been praying for, and for once, God had led Lando to you.

Sure, the way he loved you was not perfect, but it was honest. It was raw and real, and it made you feel more like yourself than you ever thought possible. Lando had this way of making you feel like you were the only person in the world, like his entire focus was only on you and no one else. That was the truth of it, wasn’t it? You had never felt this way with anyone else, and you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that no one else could make you feel the way he did. Lando was not just someone you loved—he was the person you wanted to spend your forever with.

The thought settled deeply in your chest, filling every corner of your heart with an indescribable warmth. It was not just that you loved him—it was that he was home.

“I love you,” you looked up at him, smiling.

Lando looked at you, smiling. He then whispered, “I love you too, so fucking much.”

taglist : @sheblogs

[cactus-cuddler]

𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒍𝒚 ✭ 𝑨𝒕𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: dom!Bucky Barnes x Sub! virgin female reader

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Plot: There is no specific plot. Bucky and the reader like tease and are both dangerously attracted to each other

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: explicit sex, use of nicknames as "good girl", "slut" and "whore". Daddy kink and dirty talk. I don't think there are any other warnings.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 4.5k (sorry)

-------- ≪ °✾° ≫ Author's note: sorry for any mistakes that may be there, English is not my first language! And sorry if the scenes may be badly written, it's been a long time since I wrote a smut between a woman and a man.

I write this ff because today I turn 18 (Happy Birthday to me!!) and I want so sign it. From today I can interact with all the "minor DNI" posts!!

I don't care if you are minors, read it if you want <3 ------------------------------------------------------------------------

James Buchanan Barnes. The very mention of this name can make your heart race, recalling his powerful presence, his toned physique, and the intense gaze he fixes on you whenever your paths cross. Your thoughts often wander to him, an obsession that fills your mind in the quietest hours of the night.

Yet, despite the thoughts that consume you, you're still a virgin. You’ve never found someone you were willing to give your heart to, let alone something more intimate. You've had relationships, but each time, you’ve held back, refusing to let things go beyond harmless flirtation. The thought of being vulnerable like that has always kept you at a distance. But with him, it’s different. There’s something about Bucky that makes you reconsider everything.

Your relationship with Bucky is hard to define. Sometimes you get along well, but other times, you find yourself wishing he would just disappear. And then there are moments when you wish he’d stop arguing with you altogether, using his frustration in ways that words can’t express. Is that too much to ask?

You’re curled up on your couch with a cup of hot chocolate in hand and a blanket to ward off the winter chill. As you flip through the channels, trying to find something to watch, your phone buzzes with incoming messages. Seeing his name on the screen sends a pang through your chest.

Teasing him has always been your favorite game. You start a random movie, not really caring about the plot, as you wait for him to arrive. The distant sound of a motorcycle engine signals that you're in trouble now.

When the doorbell rings, you open it, quickly masking your excitement. He’s standing there in his pajamas, and you can’t help but giggle. His pants have a childish space motif, and the matching sweatshirt does nothing to diminish his appeal. You’re wrapped in a blanket, so you're not much better off in his eyes.

"Popcorn?" he asks, and you invite him in. As he sees the movie already playing, he reminds you of his earlier request. You shrug and sit on the couch, munching on the popcorn he brought.

“You’re a bad girl,” he says, taking the remote to choose something else to watch.

“Just the way you like them,” you reply with a smirk.

You and Bucky work together in the same company, nothing out of the ordinary. You handle the computers and accounting, while Bucky works with metal. His vibranium arm would be perfect for his job, but he rarely uses it. "Oops, I’m right-handed, I do it without thinking," he says when someone asks why he doesn’t use his more powerful arm. You’ve seen how he looks at women, and it stirs something within you—a mix of jealousy and curiosity.

You first started talking after you accidentally spilled coffee on his white shirt a few months ago. To make amends, you offered to clean it, using a trick you’d read in a 1950s magazine titled "How to Be the Perfect Housewife." Not that you’re aiming for that role; you detest the idea of being confined by outdated gender roles. Patriarchy is disgusting! You would never want to marry a man in your life who confines you to a house with four children, a dog, three cats and a cactus to take care of alone.

Your conversations started off innocent enough, but things took a turn when you began texting late into the night. You both started teasing each other, pushing boundaries just to see how far the other would go. It became a game, one where neither of you wanted to lose face, even as feelings began to creep in.

So, how did he end up at your place tonight? You’re not sure, and it worries you. He’s never been to your house before. Sure, he’s given you rides home after work, a habit that started after the coffee incident. It became a routine, all because you playfully challenged his chivalry. “You? A gentleman? Don’t make me laugh,” you had texted him one morning. That very day, he was waiting outside your building, opening the car door for you. "It doesn’t mean anything," you had said to him in thanks. But tonight feels different.

The movie he picks is just awful. It’s filled with scenes of sex without sense.

“Is this too much for you? Should I change it?” he asks each time, and you just shake your head. In your life you see, read and write stuff more scandalous.

“How boring, if done like this even sex becomes boring," Bucky complains about another sex scene with the missionary position.

“You talk big, but I bet you couldn’t do any better,” you say, challenging him, not realizing what you’ve just started.

“With just one touch, I could make you scream my name,” he says, his voice low and intense. You can feel the heat rise to your cheeks, but you’re not backing down.

“I’d like to see you try,” you whisper, the challenge clear in your voice.

He looks at you, his gaze lingering, but then he sighs and turns back to the movie. “I’m a gentleman,” he says softly. “I wouldn’t take advantage of you like that.”

You feel a wave of frustration, mixed with a sense of longing that you can’t quite shake. You don’t want him to be a gentleman; you want him to see you as more. You’re a ruthless woman, you won’t give up easily. If you are not satisfied with him, well you will do it yourself. In front of his eyes.

You take off your blanket and lift your shirt up to your hips and pull your panties off throwing them on the floor. You lie down on your back and put your feet on his knees. You put two fingers in your mouth and suck them in front of him. ‘He provoked me’. You repeat yourself so you don’t feel guilty about what you’re about to do.

You do small circular movements on your clit and slowly start to sigh for the pleasure you are causing yourself.

“Bucky..." you say between moaning as you start to penetrate your little cunt with two fingers. Bucky is doing everything he can to hold himself back. His erection thills in his boxer asking to be released and enjoy for you and your warmth however he does not want to give up. It will not look but has solid moral principles and not taking your virginity is one of those.

“Bucky… please fuck me with your cock,” you say clenching your couch with fingers to hold back your spasms. This provocation has hit the mark, his erection is now painful and not releasing it could drive him crazy. Reach out to your face, sweat drops are playing on your forehead. He orders you to sit down and you perform. You are sitting one next to the other and you have your leg over his to allow him free access to your pussy.

"I won’t take your virginity," he announces by passing his thumb along your big lips. An unsatisfied grunt comes out of your lips, you want more. Much more than that.

“Why not?" you complain "I want you Bucky, I want to shout your name" add grumbling.

"It would be a nice show, believe me sweetheart but I can’t deprive you of your first time with someone you love," he says. In a flash all the previous excitement fades away as if in a spell. You close your legs and ask him to leave. "You can’t decide what’s right or wrong for me" you told him by pulling out your voice. He’s made his choice, and for tonight, that will have to be enough.

As he leaves, you find yourself wondering what it would take to bridge the gap between you. Because despite everything, one thing is clear: you want more from him, and you’re not sure how much longer you can wait.

The next morning, you wake up hoping that the night with Bucky was just a bad dream—a nightmare you could shake off with a shiver. But as you lie there, staring at the ceiling, you realize that it was all too real. The memory comes rushing back: you, vulnerable and exposed, touching yourself in front of him, moaning his name, only to be met with rejection. Your cheeks flush with a mix of shame and frustration. How could I have let myself go like that?

But there’s another thought that creeps in, unbidden. Despite everything, a part of you finds it almost sweet that Bucky doesn’t want to take your virginity unless it’s something more than just lust. He wants you to save it for someone you truly love. But the truth is, you do want it. You want him. The image of his lips on yours, his hands exploring every inch of your body, flashes through your mind, and you feel a pang of desire so intense it nearly takes your breath away. You’ve fantasized about him for so long—wondered if he could fulfill the dark, desperate needs you’ve kept buried. You’re sure you wouldn’t regret giving him your first time, so why should he?

‘Maybe he doesn’t want me,’ you think suddenly, the possibility of hitting you like a bucket of cold water. ‘Maybe I’m just a game to him, someone he can tease and torment without ever really wanting.’ The thought is unbearable, twisting in your gut like a knife.

You force yourself out of bed, deciding that you won’t let these thoughts ruin your day. Before work, you brew a hot cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine will give you the energy you need to push through. You can’t face Bucky today—not after last night. Instead, you opt for your favorite mode of transport, the one so many dismiss as the “poor man’s commute.” But you’ve always found the train comforting, a place where you can disappear into your thoughts without the pressure of small talk or the need to keep up appearances.

The ride is uneventful, the rhythmic clatter of the train soothing your nerves somewhat. When you arrive at your stop, your office is just a short walk away. You’re early—too early, really—so you take your time, letting your mind wander as you stroll. The morning air is crisp, and the world feels strangely peaceful. ‘Why can’t my mind be this calm?’ you wonder, but of course, it’s not that simple. Last night’s events linger, casting a shadow over everything.

Just as you’re about to step inside, your phone rings, the sound jolting you out of your thoughts. His name flashes on the screen, and your heart skips a beat. What does he want now?

"Y/N, come down now or we'll be late!" Bucky's voice snaps through the line, sharp with irritation. You can almost see the frown on his face, the way his brows would knit together. But with a calmness that surprises even you, you tell him you're already at the office, having taken the train.

"I hope you're joking," he growls, his voice low and husky, sending a familiar shiver down your spine. Even when he's angry, it's a voice that could melt you.

"Sorry, I should have warned you," you reply, hanging up before he can say more. The truth is, you didn't want to face him this morning, not after last night. The thought of seeing his cold blue eyes, remembering how they watched you with a mix of desire and restraint, makes your chest tighten.

You greet your colleagues warmly, slipping on your glasses as you sit at your desk, but your mind is elsewhere. The memory of Bucky's gaze, the way his hand almost trembled before he pulled away from you, keeps playing on a loop.

Hours pass in a blur of work until lunchtime, when Bucky suddenly appears at your usual spot in the break room. The moment you see him, your heart skips a beat. His presence fills the space, commanding and intense. You watch as he approaches, your colleagues' chatter fading into the background.

"I need to talk to you, Y/N," he says, his voice a mix of urgency and something deeper-something almost vulnerable. His eyes, however, are still guarded, a wall you've never been able to fully break through.

Your colleagues exchange knowing glances, smirking, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. Without a word, you follow Bucky out of the room, conscious of the curious eyes behind you.

He leads you to the women's bathroom, and as soon as the door closes, he turns to you, his expression unreadable. "I'm sorry," he begins, but the words seem empty, as if even he doesn't believe them.

"For what?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart is pounding now, and you don't know if it's from anger, confusion, or the mere proximity to him.

"For last night. I have no right to tell you who should take your virginity," he says, but you quickly cover his mouth with your hand, the heat of embarrassment rushing to your face.

"Don't say that out loud!" you hiss, glancing around as if someone might be listening. The idea that anyone might hear about your inexperience makes you cringe.

His lips curl into a smirk beneath your hand, and he gently removes it, his fingers brushing your skin in a way that sends a jolt of electricity through you. "Do you still want it?" he whispers, leaning in close enough that you can feel his breath on your neck. His voice is dark, teasing, but there's something else there too-a hint of uncertainty, as if he's afraid of your answer.

Your breath catches as he presses his knee between your legs, his hands firm on your hips. God, why does he have to be so confusing? You need him, but his mixed signals are driving you insane.

"You have to understand, I don't want you to regret anything you do with me," he murmurs against your lips, finally adjusting his knee just where you need it. Your body responds instantly, a wave of heat pooling between your legs.

His words are laced with concern, but also with a promise of something darker. "Even though it may not seem like it, I really care about you," he continues, his thumb tracing circles on your cheek, a gesture so tender it makes your chest ache. You feel small under his gaze, like a puzzle he's trying to figure out. And yet, in this position, you're certain you could unravel completely in his hands.

"The day I fuck you, I want to hear words like 'I love you, Daddy' coming out of your mouth. I don't want it to be a simple one-night stand, okay?" he finishes, pulling back just as quickly as he came, leaving you breathless and reeling.

As the door closes behind him, you're left with the echo of his words, your thoughts spiraling. 'How can he have this much control over me?' you wonder, struggling to steady your breath. Your heart is racing, your body still humming with the desire he left behind. Until yesterday, you were convinced your relationship with Bucky was built on mutual dislike and a twisted game of dominance. But now, you're not so sure. There's something deeper-a need, an almost primal urge to possess and be possessed.

The day you finally give in to him won't be gentle. You can feel it in the way your bodies clash, in the intensity of his gaze. It will be raw, fierce, and everything you've secretly craved. And when it happens, you'll be ready to let him see every part of you-the parts you've never shown anyone else, not even yourself.

After work Bucky takes you home, you decide to let go of what happened because now you know that he wants you as much as you do. He wants to be there for you and give you everything you can give.

"I've been thinking about what you said all day," you admit, adjusting Bucky's seatbelt. It feels tighter than it should and you think it's the reason you're short of breath when in reality it's the man in the driver's seat who's gripping the wheel in a way that's too erotic for your tastes.

"What conclusion have you come to?" he asks without taking his eyes off the road. The way his jaw clenched when he spoke and the hint of a neat beard on his cheeks spark some very perverse thoughts in you.

"I want you Bucky, so much. It wouldn't be a one night stand, I know I'd be addicted to your body pressing against mine," you admit bravely and a smile lights up his face.

“Show me how much you want me,” he taunts you.

You decide to please him without using your sharp tongue and you reach out to the crotch of his pants to feel what you have dreamed of so much. Under your fingers you feel him slowly swelling and as you feel it you bite your lip to hold back the excitement that is growing inside you.

You unzip his pants while he is still driving, you notice that he has slowed down and on his face you notice the desire he has for you. As soon as you free his cock you notice that your fantasies did not do him justice. It is definitely bigger and thicker than the one you imagined you rode every night. You wet your hand with saliva - as you have seen done in many pornos - and you start to touch it enjoying the heat on your hand.

You make small movements with the palm of your hand and the idea that someone could see you does nothing but excite you more. You are not an expert, you do not know what he might like more but despite this the movements of your hand are decisive.

"I knew you were a good girl," Bucky says from behind the wheel. Seeing how he's reacting to your touch excites you even more. His breathing is no longer regular, you see his expression satisfied by your touch and when you notice that there are only a few meters left to your house you almost feel sorry.

You start to pump faster, you have decided to challenge yourself and you want to make him come before you get to your house. As your hand increases the speed his sighs become faster and faster and when you see from his look that he is close to that point you take off your belt and lower yourself towards his big cock and take his tip between your lips until your mouth is filled.

"Such a good girl," he says to you while parking the car and you look into his eyes smiling, swallowing all his seed and licking your lips to show him that you liked it.

He fixes his cock in his jeans and then follows you into your home. He intends to return the favor you have done him and will really make you scream as he always threatened while he was teasing you. Once the door is closed behind you, you begin to kiss with desire. Your tongues touch and search for each other and feeling your taste mixed with his cum gives him another throbbing erection despite the orgasm of a few minutes ago.

“I knew there was a whore inside you looking for my cock," he tells you in a hoarse voice. Your body is on fire, you need him to give you more. He makes you lie down on the same couch where he rejected you less than twenty-four hours ago and begins to undress you hastily without paying attention to your clothes. He scatters everything around the room and when you are finally naked in front of his gaze he admires you in amazement.

You are perfect. Your body is perfect in his eyes. Every little imperfection that you see in it are things that he loves. You are a Greek goddess in his eyes and every part of you belongs to him and you both know it. From the day you stained his white shirt with coffee you already knew it would end like this.

He starts taking your breasts with his big hands, only his mind knows how many times he has wanted to touch them, bite them and suck them and now everything is possible. With his metallic hand he holds one of your nipples tightly, the cold touch of his hand makes you arch your back with pleasure and in the meantime he sucks and bites the other nipple making you want even more. Your gasps are music to his ears, your body is like an instrument in his hands and with every touch he is able to let out those little sounds he loves.

“Bucky, please I want more,” you beg with the help of your needy gaze.

"What a needy whore, isn't you?" he sneers and you nod to agree with him. You want to be his whore for tonight and for all the nights to come. He leaves a trail of kisses all over your body and then lingers on your pussy. The place where you need him to focus.

With his thumb he begins to touch your clit and in the meantime his gaze is fixed on your face dominated by pleasure from that insignificant touch. While with his thumb he continues his work with his middle finger he begins to penetrate your cunt going deep to feel how wet you are just for him.

"What a wet pussy we have," he compliments and then licks your juices from his fingers and satisfied he licks his lips.

He makes you sit with your back to the backrest and positions himself between your legs, placing your legs on his shoulders. As he enters you with two fingers, he begins to lick your clit while your hands are firmly on his head. You push him closer to you while desperate cries escape from your lips. Before that, you had never felt anything more pleasurable. His tongue moves expertly on your tight pussy sucking the right spots and alternating with licking.

“Bucky… I’m about to come,” you tell him between sighs of pleasure.

"Good girls only come when they are told, you are a good girl aren't you?" he tells you after taking his tongue off the place he was devouring with pleasure. He puts his fingers in your mouth and you impulsively suck his fingers taking all your flavor away from him. Your pussy is sweet and the taste and smell make Bucky ecstatic. He starts to undress too, letting his erection come out, now it seems even bigger than before and you don't know if you'll be able to take it all. But you know you'll make it, you want to show Bucky that you're a good girl. Good girls can take all the cock.

Before filling your pussy Bucky positions himself between your breasts and you squeeze them around his hard and veiny member. He starts moving with restrained rhythms while you stick out your tongue to lick the tip when you have the chance.

"You have no idea how much I've dreamed of being between these tits," he tells you between thrusts. Your hot tits around his throbbing cock are an incredible sight. Then Bucky takes a condom from his jeans pocket and orders you to put it on him.

You tear it off with your fingers and place it on the tip of Bucky's cock and then with your lips you cover that member with the condom.

“You're my good girl," he says, caressing your cheek. Then with a brusque gesture he turns you around and you find yourself doggy style on the couch with your legs wide open. He spits on his fingers and lubricates your pussy and then he enters you. Slowly and trying to get you used to it, it's still your first time.

His thrusts are slow but firm. It's not enough for you, you want more.

"Bucky..." you say between sighs.

"I know, baby... let your pussy get at ease to my big cock," he replies, putting his hand around your neck and then touching your breasts with the nipples still hard and stained by him. As soon as he notices that you no longer feel any pain, he increases his speed. He fills you up completely, making you scream with pleasure, he doesn't give you time to make you understand that he's sending your mind into a spin.

"Bucky... I'm going to..." you can't finish your sentence because he slaps you on the right butt. The slap sends you into paradise.

"You can only come when daddy tells you to," he replies, slapping you again, this time on your left ass cheek making you scream in pleasure.

After many deep and fast thrusts you feel the orgasm inside you, holding it back is fucking hard but you don't want to disobey Bucky, or rather, your daddy. He has taken away all your sharp responses with his cock turning you into a perfect whore for him. Like you always dreamed.

"Come for daddy, doll," he orders you, he's almost ready to come too but he wants to do it to you. On top of your body. You don't have to be told twice and you come on his big cock and as soon as he comes out of you he takes off the condom and orders you to get on your knees in front of him.

He starts touching himself in front of you and explodes in an orgasm on your beautiful face throwing away every single ounce of purity you had left. You lick your lips hoping to be able to take some of his cum and be able to taste it again like in the car. He grabs your neck and kisses you with fury. Your mouths both taste like the sex you shared and you can't be happier.

“You did really well,” he tells you and you bite your lip at the compliment. “I'm proud of you," he adds, giving you another long, longing kiss.

You go to take a shower to wash your sweaty bodies but "by mistake" Bucky's cock enters your pussy again and fucks you in your shower again giving you the second orgasm of the day and again by mistake his cock ends up in your mouth and Bucky teaches you how to give a blowjob that satisfies him. As soon as you finish the shower you slip into your bed, he wants to be with you after what you have shared and once in bed you fall asleep hugging each other.

The next morning, thankfully a Sunday, you devour everything you have to eat. You were so into sex that you didn't have dinner last night and your arguments resume but end with you rolling around in bed.

This new perspective excites you more than it should, every argument now corresponds to a perfect fuck and now to shut you up Bucky will put his cock in your mouth. "What a beautiful whore you are when you suck it," and these dirty words help you get an orgasm. Bucky says good girls like to be called whores and you are one.

"You're all mine," he tells you while you're sitting at the kitchen table where you've just finished eating, he said he wanted dessert so you you decide to propose yourself as a meal. You took off your panties and without being asked he was between your legs sucking and licking his sweet dessert.

"I love you daddy," you say closer to your orgasm, those are Bucky's favorite words. They make him understand that everything about you is his, your heart, your perfect cunt, your mouth and the rest of your body.

[embrosegraves]

𝔼𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔾𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕎𝕣𝕠𝕟𝕘

Oscar Piastri x Horner!Reader  Oscar breaks up with his girlfriend and McLaren start treating him like Daniel, but then he meets someone new

Warnings: I love Lily so much but I had to break them up for the plot. As much as it kills me to, I had to have some angst. Also, McLaren have a habit of not treating their Aussies too kindly

Ignore the date on the tweets k thx 🫶

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How was that? Someone lemme know! I actually had a bit of fun with this, so much to the point I've already started on planning out part 2

This is part 1 of I have no idea how many, I'll decide that when I get to the end lmao

Likes, replies and reblogs are always appreciated <3

[randomxreaders]

‘Paige Bueckers wsp w you Pt.3’

Word count - 1.5k

Warnings - reader uses she/her pronouns, not proofread

A/n - heyy i love that you guys are liking this story im going to continue writing and try to write longer chapters and go more in depth i hope you guys like it feel free to give me some plot ideas you’d like to see thank you smmm!!<3

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You say Paige’s eyes widen once you came back in frame. “Oh heyyy Y/n!!” Ice says shoving Paige’s shoulder. You see the comments going crazy but decide it’s better to just ignore them. “The fit goes crazyyy Y/n” Sarah complemented, “Thank you Sarah” Paige was the only one yet to speak. You can feel the tension between the two of you radiating through the screen. “Yea I love that top on you Y/n/n” Paige had said finally speaking up. You see the slight smirk on her face as she says it “not too bad yourself Bueckers” You say sending her a very knowing smile.

The team starts trying and rating their Crumbl cookies while you watch and comment here and there, but rarely taking your eyes off of Paige. Even just sitting there in a plain white tee and basketball shorts she looked beautiful and she was definitely keeping up a better facade than you were. Just as the girls were starting to cut into the last cookie you hear Amari calling your name as she walks out of the guest bedroom, “Y/n you need to tell Juney that she has her own perfectly good cat bed she keeps laying on my face” Amari says speech slurring slightly. “Shoot I’m sorry I thought I had shut your door” You try to tell Amari but her attention was now else where when she heard the girls laughing on the live. Stepping into the frame with you Amari gasps “No way” she turned to look at you “Mrs.Bue-“ you quickly cover her mouth with your hand “SHHH. you’re intoxicated and tired let’s go get back in bed okay?” You gesture towards the door and turn her around. “Okay mom” She says rolling her eyes turning around. Hearing the door click you let out a quiet sigh and turn back to the live “Okay guys I’m gonna all it a night but thank you guys for joining me” They group says their good nights and as soon as you end the live you get a notification from Paige “goodnight Mrs.Bueckers I hope we set up that date soon ;)”

God this girl was gonna be the death of you.

The next morning you wake up to the smell of French toast and bacon and you know Amari is up. You get up and get in the shower to prepare for your day, you had to be at the studio at 2 to record and edit a new song.

———————————————————————

Rushing to your car you already knew you were going to be late. The studio your manager has you go to is in New Haven Connecticut which is roughly a hour and a half to two hour drive from your apartment in Downtown Brooklyn. After a short phone call with Terry she agrees to push your time to 3:30, which gave a little bit of free time. So you decide to text Paige to see what she’s up to. “Hey paigey are you doing anything rn” You wait a few minutes for her to reply thinking of what you’d do with your hour if she’s not free. The phone starts to ring ‘Call incoming “Paige”’ You smile and pick up the phone. “Hey pretty girl what’s up?”

“Nothin I just wanted to see if maybe you were free to hangout for a little bit?”

“Hangout..? So like a date orrr?”

“More like a chill thing, I don’t really have enough time for a date right now and you haven’t asked me properly”

“Hmm okay okay send me your location and I’ll be there”

“okay perfect, I’ll see you soon P”

“See you soon gorgeous”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in trying to calm down your flushed face.

Paige’s POV

After hanging up the phone I head straight for my closet. I need something that’s chill but not too much deciding on jeans, a black tee and black essentials crewneck with a gold chain, bracelets and earrings.

Paige hops in her car driving to the location you sent her, it was a small pizza place. Paige makes a stop along the way and once she pulls into the parking lot she texts you saying she’s there. You reply telling her that you’re waiting inside at a corner table.

Y/n POV

You sit in the corner anxiously bouncing your knee waiting for Paige to walk through the door. This would be your first time actually seeing her in person and not just on tv or on the phone. Your eyes dart up to the door when you hear the bell chime and then you see her. You watch Paige scan her eyes around the restaurant before yours meet. Her sky blue eyes pierce into yours as she walks up to you. “These are for you” Paige hands you a bouquet of red tulips and baby’s breath. You gasp taking the flowers “oh Paige you shouldn’t have-“ “you deserve em superstar.” You smile down at the flowers and give Paige a hug before you both sit down next to each other at the table. “So what kinda pizza do you like” You ask Paige ”oh well you can’t go wrong with a cheese.” You sit there talking before the waiter come up “What can I get you ladies”

“We’ll take a medium cheese pizza” You order. The waiter nods and walks away from your table. “Soo” Paige starts, “About last night with your friend calling you Mrs.bueckers?” Your eyes widen and you put your face in your hands. “Oh my god. You went supposed to hear that, she just likes to tease me about my like crush on you” you say looking back up at her. “Well I like how it sounds. But I do think we should take things one step at a time. And that being said I wanna take you out on a proper date.”

“I’d like that”

Shortly after the pizza arrives you and Paige start to dig in. The conversation between you starts flowing again and you begin talking like you’ve known each other your whole lives. Shelly tells you about the team and how Geno was on her ass at practice yesterday. You were telling her about your upcoming album and how you’re getting ready from the Grammys. Not too long later the check comes and you both grab for it “I’m paying Paige” “Nah nah I got it” “no way i invited you here I’m paying” “come on Y/n let me pay” she says leaning closer to you. “No I got it” you look down at her lips realizing just how close the two of you really are. You slip your hand into your pocket hard in hand and lean closer to Paige. Your faces are nearly touching now and Paige whispers ”Y/n” “Paige?” You see her look down at your lips as you continue looking at her face memorizing all her features. Then she leans in and gently wipes the side of your mouth smiling slightly. Your breath hitches ever so slightly but just enough for Paige to notice.

Paige didn’t move her hand.

She didn’t move when yours eyes flickered back down to her lips, didn’t move when the space between the two of you was nearly filled. The air had thickened, charged with something unspoken, something inevitable.

Paige swallowed “Y/n..” Her voice barely above a whisper. Her thumb lingered just a second longer before she finally dropped her hand. But the tension didn’t break. It only curled tighter around them, wrapping itself between the silence and the way Y/n was still staring at her like she wanted—

The bell above the door jingled. A burst of cold air swept through the shop as a group of teenagers stumbled inside, laughing too loudly.

“You just uh had a lil something” “oh” you sigh. “Well I’m paying end of discussion” You grin. Paige doesn’t put up any more of a fight and you guys pay and leave.

You both walk outside and you look at your phone and see the time 3:15. “I have to get to the studio” You say sighing looking over to Paige, “That’s alright I understand”

“I don’t want this to end” Paige grabs your hand and drags her thumb up and down. “I don’t either, what are you doing later maybe we could do a FaceTime dinner” You smile at Paige “I’d actually really like that.” You and Paige decide that once you get home later you guys would have a sort of unofficial “date” over the phone later once you made it home.

Y/n and Paige stood against Y/ns car for a moment just enjoying each other’s presence before Y/n was really pushing the limit of being late. Paige pulled Y/n into a hug as they said their goodbyes and opening her car door for her. “Text me when you make it home?” Y/n asked Paige, “of course I will, you better call me later though” “ you know I will.” Y/n watches and waits for Paige to get into her car and then drives to the studio Paige heavily in her mind and what they were gonna have for dinner.

[ayumy1]

Scored My Heart

Itoshi Sae x Male reader

Part 1 (<- You are here) | Part 2

Synopsis: The reason why Sae gave up his shared dream with Rin was because 'he' scored his heart in a way nobody else could.

Content: Fluff, humour, a tiny bit of angst

wc: 3.2k

Note: This is my first bllk fanfic and reader fanfic. So I apologise in advance for any ooc or weirdness. This is a male reader fanfic for plot purposes, if you don't feel comfortable reading, don't.

Language colour code: Spanish | Japanese

Life in Spain was hard for Itoshi Sae. Very hard.

Despite being a step closer to reaching his dream, understanding the coach and his teammates was another matter entirely.

All trainings required a painful amount of scrutinising to understand what was going on. Whether it be what plays to execute to what he wanted to eat at team dinners.

Of course the coach tried to make things a bit easier by using a translation app or using actions instead of words. He obviously didn't want to lose such a promising player due to a lack of hospitality, but the only promising comfort he could provide was to wait for something next week. At least that's what Sae could decipher.

True to his word, something did come the following week. Rather it was not a thing. But a person.

"Y/N L/N, YOU DARE COME LATE AFTER MISSING A WEEK OF TRAINING!" screamed the coach hurling a soccer ball to the newcomer.

"Chill out, coach. I came here as fast as I could." the figure named Y/n L/n dismissively replied as he effortlessly chest trapped the incoming ball.

"Haaah...I'm gonna retire early because of this kid," the coach sighed, "What kind of idiot gets sick in summer?"

"The special kind!" he grinned.

By now everyone had crowded around the boy, either patting him on the back or teasing him mercilessly. Sae could only spectate on the sidelines in slight envy.

It was not long before the coach barked out orders to continue the training exercise, whilst the latecomer began warming up.

"Sae!" the coach waved over, to which he promptly jogged over. "This is Y/n L/n. He knows a bit of Japanese, apparently... Y/n, this is Sae. Don't bite him."

"THAT WAS A ONE TIME THING!!!" exclaimed a blushing Y/n, who recalled the memory with great embarrassment whilst trying to swat his coach away.

Sae could barely understand the conversation and watched the coach walk away, leaving them behind.

"Sorry about that, I promise I don't bite. Trust me. It was a one time thing with some guy who plays soccer. I don't know if you know him, he's kinda famous. But ever since then, coach never lets me live it down..." Y/n rambled on.

Sae just stared. Even if the boy spoke Japanese, he wasn't even sure if he'd catch it all.

"Oh, you don't understand me..." the boy suddenly realised, "Uhh...My name is L/n Y/n. But uh... Y/n okay".

Sae's eyes widened, hearing Japanese in a foreign country felt weirdly comforting. At least there was finally someone he could talk to without fear.

"Itoshi Sae. But Sae's fine." introduced Sae. "I'm a striker, what position do you play?"

"Uhh...(Insert favourite food)." Y/n cluelessly answered, praying that the question was about his favourite food.

Sae burst out laughing. It was the first time he ever laughed since arriving in Spain. Once again, Y/n was flushed in embarrassment. This was now the second time he messed up an introduction to someone his coach brought.

As soon as Sae caught his breath, he began motioning to himself and an imaginary soccer ball. Before pretending to kick it with precision and power towards an imaginary goal. He then pointed towards Y/n with a questioning face.

"Ah...Same!" Y/n enthusiastically replied.

In the distance, the coach was gathering everyone up for another exercise.

"I should go now. It was nice meeting you." Sae said before running off.

Y/n stared at the retreating figure, he couldn't wait to tell his mum about Sae. Maybe excluding the part about his own poor excuse of Japanese.

"Y/N, QUIT DREAMING AND FINISH YOUR WARM UPS!"

A few months had passed since Sae arrived in Spain. With the help of Spanish classes and Y/n, he'd gradually been able to feel more at ease and understand everyone. As usual training was harsh and the overbearing heat wasn't helping anyone's will to live.

Except for Y/n.

"Hey! Did anyone see that goal just now!" Y/n beamed. He was currently the only one out on the field, whilst the others took an extended break out of the sun.

"Alright, gather up!" called the coach, "We're ending today's practice here. I don't want any of you getting heatstroke or what not. Make sure to rest and stay hydrated. Understood?"

"Yes, coach."

"Especially you, Y/n! No more soccer today." the coach sternly reaffirmed.

"Hmph, fine." huffed Y/n in a pouty manner.

Everyone slowly trudged towards their bags before bidding farewell to each other. Sae was lost at what to do. His routine for the past few months consisted of training, class, eating and sleeping with barely any time for himself. Noticing his distress, Y/n decided to muster up his courage.

"Sae, wanna come to my house?" Y/n asked. With the help of Sae, Y/n's Japanese had also been improving.

"Sure." replied Sae.

"Cool, you can meet my mum. She's Japanese, so you can actually talk to her!" he exclaimed.

"You're half Japanese?" Sae asked, adjusting to Spanish. He gradually picked up Y/n's speaking habits. Such as using Spanish when he was excited or using Japanese to mess with people or a combination of both if he got too comfortable and lazy. Only when Sae switched languages with him, did Y/n notice.

"Ah, I did it again." Y/n sheepishly smiled. "Yeah, I learnt most of my Japanese from her. I guess I don't really look the part, I probably spend too much time in the sun."

"I thought you learnt Japanese from anime." stated Sae, "You're always quoting random lines."

"Shush, only you hear that." Y/n playfully glared as he guided Sae back to his home.

Time seemed to fly as the pair spent time together sharing stories, discussing hobbies and touring the L/n household. Then the topic of family came up.

"I have a brother called Rin. He's gonna be the best striker after me." Sae proudly.

"Wait... you're the best striker after me!"

"Huh, no way! You're behind Rin." retorted Sae.

Before Y/n could argue back, the click of the front door unlocking attracted his attention. He grabbed a Sae by the wrist and rushed to the door.

"Welcome back!"

"I'm back," the female who stepped into the house replied, "Oh, is this Sae-kun you've brought back?"

"Mhm"

"It's nice to meet you, L/n-san." Sae politely greeted.

"Likewise, Sae-kun. I hope Y/n hasn't caused you too much trouble. Would you like to stay for dinner? I can cook Japanese food if you're feeling homesick." she offered. They continued to exchange words in Japanese, leaving a very clueless Y/n to look back and forth.

With the addition of Sae, the home was filled with laughter. It had been a while since the L/n's were able to accommodate for another.

"Thank you for the dinner, it was delicious." complimented Sae.

"No problem, Sae-kun. You're welcome back anytime." replied the older L/n.

"Sae, you can come over everyday!" Y/n offered, oblivious to what his mother had just said.

"Hahaha...that's just what your mother just said, idiot."

"Oh."

Sae's lungs clawed for air as he hunched over trying keep his composure. He couldn't do it. He couldn't score. The defender's that swarmed like bees were tight knit and unrelenting.

The only reason they won was because of Y/n's goals again. A goal that soared beautifully in the air with deadly speed, to a place nobody could reach. Everyone could either watch in fear or awe over and over again.

That was the true essence of a striker.

"Dammit."

Every opportunity given to him always resulted in passing. It was like it was the only thing he could do.

"Sa-" Y/n hesitated. He knew the frustration of his friend. It had been multiple games since Sae had scored and it was clearly weighing heavily on his mind.

What is the purpose of a striker, if not to score?

It was obvious to everyone that Sae was stressed, tired and most of all homesick. Y/n signalled to the coach before dragging Sae to the locker rooms.

They walked home in silence, hand in hand, with Sae lagging behind a little. It wasn't until after they snacked and showered that Sae began to talk.

"Sorry."

Y/n motioned Sae to sit down and turn around, so he could help dry his hair.

"For what?"

"I failed."

"Huh?" Y/n' questioned, like Sae had three heads, "I thought you were sorry for eating my food."

"I wouldn't apologise for that" Sae quickly replied.

"Hmph, meanie. I was joking." huffed Y/n, "You didn't fail me. You failed yourself...This might be wrong for me to say to a striker, but your assists are amazing! Like better than (Insert team's midfielder), because your passes are like really precise, so they're really easy to kick in the way I want. The ball always goes 'BOOM' when I receive it from you. But from others it's always like 'baaaaam' and there's nothing special behind it. Obviously it's different when I move it up the field because then it's always a 'BOOM'. If that makes sense...?"

By now, Y/n's hands had already stopped drying Sae's hair and were waving around to imitate the sounds he made. He peeked over to see Sae's reaction, expecting joy from the compliment or anger from the insult as a striker. But was shockingly met with a blushing Sae.

"Uh...Sae?"

"You idiot, I can't understand you when you speak so fast in Spanish." he seethed and pushed Y/n's face away. His face clearly counteracted his words laced with annoyance.

"But if you didn't understand, why are you a tomato?" Y/n inched closer to whisper in his ear.

"Shut up!"

"HAHAHA! YOU SWITCHED TO JAPA-GWAH!"

Sae tackled the cackling boy and they wrestled around the room, knocking into the shelf and bed of Y/n's room. It wasn't till a stray soccer ball from an upper shelf smashed into the back of Y/n's head, creating a domino effect that unfortunately ended with their foreheads colliding.

"Why on earth do you have a soccer ball on the top shelf?!"

"For moments like these!" Y/n exclaimed, using the opening to capture Sae into a tight hug.

"Hey! Let me go!" Sae yelled, struggling to break free.

"I'll teach you street soccer."

"Huh?"

"I'll teach you street soccer." Y/n repeated.

"I understood the first time, idiot"

"But you said 'huh'"

"How does that even benefit you?" muttered Sae.

"If it means I get you as my partner on the field, I'll do it." stated Y/n with determination.

"...Fine."

"One more thing, you're staying over tonight. There's salted seaweed in the kitchen. No take backsies!"

For the next year, Sae and Y/n trained together to share each other's respective techniques and observations.

"I have a terrible self-awareness of whoever's behind me, when I have to trap a high ball mid air." Y/n randomly spilled.

"Don't tell me that, we're probably going to play each other in a warm up match." Sae panicked.

"Good." beamed Y/n, "Then I should learn how to fix it then."

"What if we play each other in the future?"

"Then it'll be even more fun! Just imagine it." Y/n happily replied. "But then again, if you apply for citizenship, we can play on the national team together."

"True. The Japanese team is lukewarm." Sae thoughtfully answered.

"Lukewarm?"

"Shut up." Sae half-heartedly glared, "I can't score when I'm anxious."

"I know." said Y/n, causing Sae to drop his head in disappointment. "Everyone can see your anxiousness on the field, which is why they take advantage of it. You gotta feel the desire to make them tremble under your skill and drop dead as you plow through the enemy territory...and finally score where no one expects!"

"...Did you take that from an anime?" laughed Sae.

"Hey! I was trying to help you and this is the thanks I get?"

After lots of teasing and laughing, they continued to practice diligently at mastering each other's style and it was not long until they could show off their practice.

'You're all...lukewarm,' is what Itoshi Sae mindlessly repeated in his head.

A defender approached from his left, causing Sae to pause with the ball on the outside of his right foot. By protecting the ball on the opposite side, he swiftly performed a roulette and passed them with ease. Another charged directly for him, allowing him to flaunt his speedy double touch.

He was readily approaching the goal, eyes piercing into the soul of the goalkeeper who could only cower in fear and beg for mercy.

This continued for many games, Sae would not only assist the other strikers, but also score himself, bringing great joy to everyone on the team, except for the coach. He was no doubt that he was ecstatic about Sae's growth, but the problem lay in the team composition. If Sae was a striker, he'd need to fuel his ego even more and focus purely on being a scorer. But if he was a midfielder, he'd need to focus on stamina only, creating and executing plays.

Whilst performing both was possible as an attacking midfielder, Sae was registered as a striker and needed to make a decision about his position. No coach would be willing to create a team featuring a player that couldn't pick a position.

"Sae!" the coach called out, to talk privately after another victory.

"Yes, coach?"

"Sae, do you like to score?"

"Yes."

"Then why do you pass?"

Sae hesitated, for he didn't know the answer at first. Initially passing was a way of evading the enemy due to fear. But now, he had grown to overcome that and charged powerfully with a desire to score a goal.

"Because it's just as fun." Sae began.

"Fun?" questioned the coach, motioning him to expand.

"Dribbling past the enemy, only to pass to another," Sae explained, "is like..."

"Tch, you lukewarms. You're not worthy of seeing the full extent of my powers." a voice suddenly filled the silence.

"Y/n, why are you here?" the coach sighed, not surprised at all.

"I'm hungry," replied Y/n, "So am I right?"

"Ehh, I don't know?" Sae responded.

The coach exhaled a deep breath, there was no point in shooing Y/n away, he'd most likely find out sooner or later.

"Sae, look up Alvaro Recoba and if you like his play style, then I'll be placing you as an attacking midfielder." the coach announced.

"M-midfielder?" both boys stuttered.

"I can't have you stealing the midfielder's job, if you're a striker." explained the coach, "You'll have to pick."

Sae nodded and allowed Y/n to drag him away.

"Goodnight, boys. Don't sleep too late." the older L/n reminded them before heading off to bed.

"Okay." they replied. Time passed quickly whilst Sae and Y/n were huddled together on Y/n's, watching videos of the Uruguayan midfielder, Alvaro Recoba.

"Woah! Can you do that, Sae?" Y/n nudged. The maroon haired boy was unresponsive.

"Uh...Sae?" asked Y/n with concern.

Instead of answering, Sae posed his own question. "Are we still partners, if I become a midfielder?"

His thoughts orbited around his friendship with Y/n and soccer. Would they still have their personal practice time? Would Y/n abandon him to practice on his own? Or even worse, never want to play together anymore?

Y/n sat up straight and grabbed Sae's shoulders firmly to the other's surprise. They stared for a while in silence.

"Don't play soccer or be a striker to be partners." Y/n firmly stated. "Never do something like that because it'll only make you empty. Got it?"

"Yeah." replied Sae, he was shocked at his friend's piercing gaze.

"If the only thing that changes is your title, I don't see why we wouldn't be." Y/n began, his seriousness seeping away, "In fact, you'd be my official partner because my goal is just as good as your goal. Without you, I wouldn't have scored in the first place."

Sae just nodded, allowing the words to sink in properly. After watching a few more videos, they retired for the night to their respective beds, or in Sae's case a futon. With his mind at peace, Sae could rest easily, unbeknownst that Y/n's mind was whirling with memories. It was going to be a long night for Y/n, who just gazed at the blank ceiling.

The next morning, Sae woke up well rested to the sound of oil sizzling and the smell of miso soup. His friend was messily sprawled in his bed, still snoozing away.

"Good morning, Sae-kun." L/n M/n greeted Sae, who just arrived in the kitchen.

"Good morning L/n-san." replied Sae, who kept insisting to call her L/n-san.

"Is Y/n still asleep?" she asked. It wasn't unusual for him to sleep in, but it was increasingly rare.

"Mhm." Sae hummed as he accepted the plate of fish sprinkled with salted seaweed from her. The table had already been set with cutlery, bowls of miso soup and rice.

They began to converse about daily life, even though they had heard most of it from the yapper, Y/n.

"You're curious about why Y/n told you that, right?" M/n guessed, when she noticed Sae's hesitation after mentioning the conversation that occurred last night.

"A bit." admitted Sae, "But I don't think Y/n's comfortable about it, since it involves his father."

There was no doubt that they both deducted the reason why Y/n was sleeping in this morning.

"You're so patient, Sae-kun." M/n proudly smiled, resting her chin against her palm. "I'll tell you anyway."

"Eh?" Sae's eyes widened in shock.

"You've figured out most of it... and I trust you, Sae-kun." she said knowingly, standing up to grab a photo album off a nearby shelf.

"Y/n learnt soccer from his father at a young age." she began, showing a photo of a young Y/n and a man posing with a soccer ball. As she was flipping through the album, the man had stopped appearing in the photos. "They played everyday, until he passed due to a car accident when Y/n was eight. From then, he played soccer for his father and slowly lost himself. My only regret is isolating myself and not noticing earlier."

An awkward silence settled between them. Sae was at a loss of words, should he share his condolences or had it been too long since it happened? Or would it be better to promise to take care of Y/n?

"Thank you for being his friend." M/n added.

"Thank you for telling me and taking care of Y/n. I'm very grateful to call him my friend and I promise to take care of him." Sae stood up and bowed.

"Now...would you like to see more photos of Y/n?" she smiled sweetly, lightening the mood. She quickly grabbed another album containing embarrassing photos of Y/n such as tripping or being smacked in the face by a ball. Sae could only sweatdrop at the abundance of photos.

"Morn-" Y/n sleepily shuffled into the kitchen, "GAH! WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT THOSE!"

For the rest of the day, Sae couldn't make direct eye contact with Y/n without the images imprinted into his head from appearing.

Part 1 (<- You are here) | Part 2

Note: Thank you for reading. I hope it was clear to understand. I have plans to make a part 2.

[daryldove]

Trick or Treat

daryl x fem!reader

age gap, commonwealth era

The Halloween fair is a success. After weeks of tireless planning, you could finally enjoy the festivities yourself. You dressed up as a devil, horns and all with a tight fitting, red satin dress. A black shawl drapes over your shoulders to ward off the incoming chill.

You're crouching to help someone pick up their coins when you hear Judith call your name from behind, followed by RJ and Daryl. A smile forms on your lips at the sight of her, only growing when you spot the archer. You were positively whipped for him.

You dust yourself off, standing to greet them. “Hey guys. Are you a witch, Jude? Very cute.” 

“I'm supposed to be scary, not cute!” You giggle at Judith's whining before turning your attention to Daryl. He looks tired lately, but still as handsome as always. You notice him in your peripheral glance at your cleavage before looking away. His cheeks have a slight red tint once you face him.

“You look good.”

He scoffs, face betraying his obvious self conciousness, “I'm not even wearing a costume.” He's so sweet, you wanna squeeze him. The contrast between his rough appearance and unexpected shyness was something you've always adored. “You always do.” He avoids looking at you altogether as you specify. 

Your attention turns back to the kids. “Have you guys had a candied apple yet?” That's all you had to say to get them to run off, leaving you and Daryl alone. Getting a private spot altogether is gonna be much harder, though. You ask him to walk with you, and he obliges, ignorant to your plotting. “I haven't seen you around much recently. You been busy?” 

He grunts in response. “Haven't seen ya around much either.” So he was watching you too—the thought made your chest tighten.

“More planning goes into these events than you'd think. Gonna be pretty free after, though.” You bite back a smirk at how he looks at you, as if he's searching your expression for a deeper meaning. An invitation.

You see the moment he finally comprehends you actually mean it, but he just shrugs, looking a little lost. He’s afraid, you realise. Maybe even a little insecure. Any urge to tease or subtly flirt flees from your body. 

“What's wrong?” You turn to him, eye softening at his hesitance.

“How old exactly are ya?” He chews his bottom lip like he's nervous to hear the answer. Oh, so that's it. He's hesitant about the age gap, or maybe uncomfortable with how others would view it. Truthfully, you didn't exactly know how old you were, you stopped counting since the apocalypse, and you know he probably did too. There was a big difference between you though, that was obvious. You weren't naive or stupid, you knew how it would look to others. 

“The age difference doesn't bother me.” Clearly, that's the wrong thing to say because he just replies with an exasperated huff. But he doesn't let go when you intertwine your hands with his, or move away when you lean closer. His eyes reflect a deeper story—he doesn't want to care either.  “Ya really don't mind?”

“No. Actually I…” you can't believe you're about to admit this out loud, “I think it's pretty hot. And I don't care what people say, either, as long as we're happy.” Daryl's expression is unreadable, and you worry for a moment that you were too honest.

But his hand squeezes yours, and a reluctant chuckle leaves him. “Hot, huh?” You playfully shove him with your shoulder. As embarrassing as that was to admit, you didn't regret it. Despite how he probably won't ever let you live it down.

[scaraobsession]

Categorically Yours⎯ ♡

⎯05. OMG...XIAO???

Note: Take a deep breath and prepare for what's about to unfold. Also updating two days in a row is crazy work

Word count: ~1000

You’re happy that Hu Tao isn’t sick anymore, you really are. But if she says one more time how amazing it was to not go to classes and instead eat Xiangling’s delicious food under a pile of blankets while you were having a crisis with your brain being melted by the philosophy professor’s voice, you might actually lose it. Not even factoring in that you absolutely embarrassed yourself in front of another student. Great. Really.

Usually, attendance drops after the first lecture, but you doubt that’s going to happen in philosophy ⎯ no presentation slides, after all. As the two of you enter the lecture hall, your suspicions get confirmed. It’s just as full as during the first class.

You let out an irritated sigh, something you seem to do a lot in philosophy. Then you turn to your friend and lightly tug on her sleeve to get her attention.

“So… where do you wanna sit⎯”

She barely hears you though, not even looking in your direction. She stares off somewhere into the distance. Maybe she’s still a bit under the weather? As you open your mouth to check on her like any good friend would, she speaks up.

“Oh my god… XIAO??”

And…. she’s gone. Well. Not gone but bolted across the room to talk to some guy with turquoise streaks in his dark hair. He’s dressed in all black, with silver jewelry ⎯kinda emo, like he’s here purely for the incoming nihilism lessons.

You quickly follow after her.

“Hu Tao what the⎯“

Too late. She’s mid-conversation, then turns back to you like nothing happened. “Yn!! This is my childhood friend, Xiao!”

She energetically slaps his back. He nearly stumbles forward, no energy in his body or soul whatsoever. At least he doesn’t look uncomfortable, just guarded. But then again, that’s just the kind of expression you would expect from someone so… edgy looking.

He then speaks, flat voice, barely a flicker of expression.

“Nice to meet you.” Yeah. He definitely means it.

“Nice to meet you too”, you reply politely. You hope yours sounds more genuine than his. You don’t have a lot of time to worry about that though, since something else catches your eyes as you look over his shoulder.

…Oh no. FUCK. It’s him. The guy from last lecture. Standing right there.

You internally panic. What is that guy doing here??? Well, obviously attending the lecture, but why is he right here with Hu Tao’s childhood friend??? You pray to all the gods out there that he doesn’t notice you, the embarrassment would totally⎯

“That’s my friend, Scara.” FUCK. Xiao noticed your line of sight and gestured towards the guy from last lecture⎯ Scara apparently. And of course, he now looks at you. The smallest rise in the corner of his mouth, but not quite a smile. It’s like he’s trying not to have one.

Like he remembers you. Like he’s maybe a little amused.

You avoid his gaze. This was already too much for you and the lecture hasn’t even started.

Hu Tao pipes up. “Xiao, we should totally catch up!!”

And for once you’re so glad for Hu Tao’s sociableness. Not that you usually mind it. Sadly, before she can spiral into a full conversation, the lecture starts. Hu Tao sits down, Xiao beside her, listening to whatever she’s talking about. His friend takes the seat next to him. Which leaves… you at the very end. Next to Scara.

The professor starts rambling again and you pull out your notebook. Strictly taking notes. Nothing else. Your eyes don’t dare to leave the page. You’re not risking a glance at Scara, no way. Hu Tao’s not even pretending to pay attention— too busy “catching up”.

She’s not even aware of who’s sitting next to you, so you shoot her a text.

She eyes you from the other side of the row, a dangerous look on her face. She’s scheming. Hopefully she’ll forget whatever she’s plotting before the lecture ends. You have good chances, considering she’s passionately talking to Xiao and listening to the lecture half-heartedly.

You return to focus too, eyes back on the paper. Until something slides onto your desk.

It’s a piece of paper.

A note.

From him???

The two of you switch seats. Ah. Hu Tao and Xiao’s endless talking is a bit distracting when you’re sitting right next to them. You can hear her loud and clearly, going on and on about her friend Xiangling's cooking being soooo good and about her small business of selling bedazzled coffins, about anything to not think about the lecture, really.

In the corner of your eye you see Scara think for a second before adding something to the note. Chatty much.

As hard as it is to focus, the two of you fall back into listening to the professor. You keep taking notes, trying to make sense of the professors rambling. He, of course, doesn't. Though it looks like he's not particularly struggling, from what you catch with your⎯ hopefully subtle⎯ glances.

After class Hu Tao waves you over, her face at least a bit apologetic. She fiddles with her sleeve a bit before just bluntly asking what she needs.

“Girl, can you send me your notes again?” You sigh, but nod. This was already expected; you'll probably send her your notes every lecture since she has the work ethic of a kindergardener. She's the kind of student that needs an academic miracle, really.

The word 'notes' seemed to spark a bit of life into Xiao's expression. You might've confused him with a zombie if it wasn't for that. “You took notes?”

Right. He wasn't listening to the professor either. “Yeah?”

“Can I have yours from last lecture? Scara didn’t take any and I wasn’t there…”

What are you??? A charity? A slave? Whatever. Sure. You nod again, this time a bit more exasperated, though you try to suppress your displeased expression.

As Scara packs up his stuff, Hu Tao looks at you mischievously, she’s totally up to something. Your pure, generous heart, sharing your notes⎯ does that mean nothing to her? Your unending kindness in aiding her desperate (emo) friend in need⎯

“Yo Scara you should totally give yn your number so that she’ll stop bothering me about philo!!”

you freeze. what.

“sure.”

WHAT.

previous masterlist next

summary⎯ It starts with a note in philosophy lecture. They sit together once, then again. Now they’re texting, sharing notes, and maybe something else they won’t admit. Minor in philosophy, major in denial.

Taglist (comment or send ask if you wanna be added)

@bittersweetmiko @lizzie-harper @hntft @bubblebellaz @vlynynynyn @rumitome @qjvt7 @sundeityraza @vi0let-writes @bananasquash @9meree @bvtterflyyy @yelwo @feikyuu @saechiro @franaby @crimxeorcremeexistspeacefully @sesamemin

[stellaspectral]

Hi! I love your writing, could I maybe request the boys (maybe 03, 2012, 07 or bayverse?) x vampire!reader?

A/N: Hello! I seem to have went overboard again with the plot set-up of this story. Oh, and for the setting, I went with the 2003 universe.

I hope you enjoy it! 💖

Centuries in Shadow (paranormal/action)

💚 2003 Turtles/Gender Neutral Reader 💚

CWs: Vampire Reader, violence, themes of being hunted, some injury details, depictions of torture (UV light exposure, etc.), found family with romantic undertones. All characters are aged-up.

You crouch low on the rooftop of a New York residence and scan your surroundings for trouble, your senses honed by centuries of survival.

You’ve lived discreetly here for a long time, using your resources to live a relatively quiet life. Blood bank deliveries, a secure income from decades of wise investments, and an almost pathological avoidance of attention have served you well. You’ve curated this mostly peaceful existence with painstaking care.

But now, someone is determined to destroy everything you’ve built.

Suddenly, the alley below erupts with activity. Figures in black tactical gear marked with the eagle-and-globe insignia of the Earth Protection Force rappel from the opposite rooftop.

“Target is designated Omega-Six. Subdue, do not terminate,” a harsh voice crackles over the comms, “at least not yet.”

“Roger, Bishop,” one man replies.

Of course, you recognize the name. He and the EPF seem to have gotten a credible lead on your existence. You surmise Bishop sees you as either a valuable biological weapon to be studied and controlled, or a significant threat to be neutralized. But you don’t intend to find out his true goal the hard way.

Because you won’t allow them to capture you—not without a fight.

You don’t wait for them to fully deploy and launch yourself towards the nearest agents. They expect you to flee, to scramble up a fire escape, seeking the shadows. They don’t expect a direct, silent assault. And the element of surprise is nearly always on your side.

One agent, his face obscured by a dark visor, raises a weapon. You pivot, the air where your head was moments before crackling with a discharged stun bolt. Balling your hand, you slam it into his chest. Not hard enough to shatter bone. You’re not trying to kill, merely incapacitate; you’re not a monster, after all. Though it’s enough to drop him to his knees, gasping, the wind knocked from his lungs.

“Omega-Six is engaging! Defensive pattern beta! Use the shock batons!” an unknown voice, probably the field leader, shouts.

More organized now, they try to encircle you.

High above, unseen by the EPF, four figures watch from the lip of an adjacent building. They’ve been tracking Bishop for weeks, and this sudden, violent confrontation has their full attention.

“Whoa, dudes, Bishop’s goons are trying to bag someone,” Mikey says.

“Quiet, Mikey,” Leo murmurs, eyes narrowed. “Donnie, what’s your take on the target?”

Donnie is peering through high-tech binoculars. “Strange. Definitely not human. They have enhanced speed, strength … and they don’t seem to be affected much by the agents’ retaliatory efforts.”

“Looks like they can defend themselves,” Raph remarks, his hands instinctively going to his weapons at his belt. “But Bishop’s playing rough.”

Meanwhile, you feel the sting as yet another baton glances off your arm. It’s an unpleasant jolt, but your ancient physiology shrugs off the worst of it, leaving only a dull ache—and a surge of cold fury. You lash out with a kick, sending another agent tumbling. They are persistent, these EPF soldiers, like well-trained hounds.

Then Bishop’s voice cuts through the comms again. “Omega-Six is proving more resilient than expected. Authorize the use of the nets and UV projectors. We need this specimen intact, but damage is acceptable if it ensures capture.”

Even a brief exposure to the UV could be agonizing and debilitating. Bishop’s casual disregard for your well-being—for your personhood—stokes the embers of your fury into a roaring inferno. You are not some thing to be cataloged and dissected!

You see the change in their tactics immediately. Two agents break formation, producing bulky, shoulder-mounted devices. Others unclip net-launchers from their thighs, aiming with precision.

Up on the rooftop, Leo watches the agents adjust their aim. “What are those?” he asks, his voice tight.

Donnie zooms in the optical sensors of the binoculars. “Those larger units—they’re high-intensity ultraviolet emitters. And those are pneumatic net launchers. They’re not playing around.”

“UV? Like, for vampires?” Mikey asks.

Raph shoves him lightly. “He said ‘specimen,’ Leo,” he growls, his gaze fixed on the scene below. “And ‘damage is acceptable.’ Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? They’re treating them, whatever they are, like an animal.” His grip tightens on his sai.

The first UV beam slices through the night, a searing white-violet ray that makes your skin crawl even from a near miss. You twist, the beam scorching the brickwork where you stood a microsecond before. Another agent fires a net; you drop, spin, and feel the weighted mesh whip over your head, snagging on a ventilation pipe. Too close.

You can’t afford to be hit by those beams. Your movements become sharper, more desperate, focused on evasion above all else. You leap back up the building and move from rooftop to rooftop, a blur of motion. The EPF agents scramble to keep up, their beams cutting erratic patterns in the darkness.

They are herding you, you realize too late, trying to force you into a kill box.

“Subject is agile,” Bishop’s voice crackles. “Flank them. Pin them between sectors three and four. Prioritize UV containment. I want it unable to fight back.”

You vault over an air conditioning unit, the hum of a charging UV projector dangerously close. You spin in mid-air, lashing out with a foot that connects with the agent’s device. It sparks, fizzles, and the agent stumbles back with a curse, momentarily blinded by his own malfunctioning weapon. A minor victory, but more are closing in.

A net catches your ankle, and you hit the roof hard, a grunt escaping your lips. The rough surface scrapes at your clothes, your skin.

“Got a partial hit!” one agent shouts.

Another beam cuts towards your downed form. You throw yourself sideways into a roll, the beam charring the spot where your torso was, the acrid smell of something burning filling your nostrils.

“They’re gonna fry ‘em!” Mikey exclaims, his earlier levity gone.

“Bishop’s not trying to subdue anymore. That was a kill shot, or close to it,” Donnie observes, his voice grim. “If they’re photosensitive, those beams are torture.”

Leo watches, his jaw set. The figure below, though clearly not human, is fighting with a desperate ferocity. They aren’t launching unprovoked attacks; they’re defending themselves against a heavily armed force that clearly wants them captured. Or worse. And Bishop’s cold, clinical orders remind him too much of the enemies who saw him and his brothers as mere obstacles or tools.

“Sector three, saturate the area with UV. Force it into the open!” Bishop commands.

Multiple beams converge, creating an inescapable cage of agonizing light. You hiss, shielding your face as the edges of the beams sear at your exposed hands. The pain is intense, a deep, burning ache that feels like your very cells are igniting. You can feel your strength beginning to wane under the assault; the primal urge to flee into the darkness is overwhelming.

“That’s it!” Raph snarls. “I don’t care what they are. Nobody deserves that. Bishop’s crossed the line!”

“Raph, wait!” Leo orders, but his voice lacks its usual conviction. He sees it too. The target is cornered and visibly in pain. Bishop’s tactics are brutal, excessive. This isn’t about protection; it’s about acquisition, at any cost.

“We can’t just watch this,” Donnie adds, lowering his binoculars.

As you struggle against the light, a flicker of movement from above catches your attention. Four distinct silhouettes detach themselves from the skyline, leaping with agile grace. They land between you and the advancing EPF line.

“Alright, Bishop!” a voice rings out—the one in blue. “Playtime’s over! Why don’t you try picking on someone your own size?”

The agents hesitate, surprised by the sudden appearance of these new, unknown combatants. You stare, momentarily stunned. Human-sized turtles? With ninja weapons? Your long existence has shown you many strange things, but this is … novel.

Are they here for you? Or are they merely another complication in this already disastrous night? Their stance, however, seems defensive, facing away from you, towards Bishop’s men. A flicker of something you haven’t felt in a long time—hope?—ignites in your chest.

“Who the shell are you?” the red one growls, shoulder-checking an EPF trooper away from you. “And what’s Bishop’s beef with ya?”

“Later, Raph!” the blue one orders, deflecting a dart aimed at your head, before he glances at you. “Come with us if you want to get out of this!”

There’s no time for formal introductions or lengthy explanations. With a final, coordinated push, you and the turtles break through the EPF cordon before melting into the labyrinthine network of back alleys, leaving Bishop’s forces to regroup.

“No one escapes the EPF, Omega-Six! No one!” his voice over the comms a promise of retribution.

You maintain a carefully neutral posture as a wise-looking rat in a kimono regards you with disconcertingly perceptive eyes.

“My sons,” he says, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable authority, “you have brought a most … unique guest into our home.”

Leo steps forward. “Master Splinter, this is … well, we don’t actually know who they are. Bishop and the EPF were trying to capture or kill them. We intervened.” He looks at you, his expression cautious. “We need to know what you are, and if you’re a threat to us.”

Raph scoffs, arms crossed tightly over his plastron. “Threat? Look at them, Leo. Pale skin, moves too fast, and I swear I saw fangs back there.”

Donnie, on the other hand, seems fascinated rather than suspicious. “Their physiology is astounding, unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Thermoregulation seems minimal, and cellular regeneration appears highly advanced. Are you nocturnal by nature? What are your dietary requirements?”

“Whoa, are you like … an actual vampire or something?” Mikey asks. “Can you turn into a bat? Or mist? Do you vant to suck our bloooood?” He mimes a classic Dracula pose, complete with hooked fingers, then shrinks back when Raph shoots him a withering glare.

You take a slow breath, meeting each of their gazes, before you tell them your name. “And yes, to answer your most pressing question—I am what you would call a vampire.”

There are a few beats of silence. Mikey’s eyes widen to the size of manhole covers. Donnie tilts his head, as if trying to analyze you. Raph tenses, his posture screaming ‘threat.’ Leo’s expression is unreadable, but his eyes narrow slightly. Only Splinter remains impassive, his gaze thoughtful.

“A vampire?” Mikey finally breathes, a strange mix of awe and terror in his voice. He looks from you to his brothers and back again. “So, like the garlic, the stakes, the not being able to cross running water—is all that stuff true? Dude, this is so much cooler than the movies!”

Raph snorts. “Cooler? Mikey, they could drain us dry before we even blink! If they are what they say they are.” His glare fixes on you, sharp and accusing. “How do we know you’re not just waiting for us to drop our guard?”

“Raphael,” Splinter scolds. He then turns his gaze to you, his whiskers twitching. “The legends surrounding your kind are many, and often contradictory. They speak of darkness, of predation, but also of ancient power and profound loneliness.” His eyes hold a surprising depth of understanding, or perhaps just a willingness to understand in general. “You sought to avoid Bishop. You fought only to defend yourself. This does not align with the monstrous caricature often painted.”

You incline your head respectfully towards the wise rat. “The tales are exaggerated. Twisted by fear and ignorance over centuries.” You carefully choose your words, aware that every syllable is being scrutinized. “I do not prey on the unwilling. My needs are met through … other means. I have no desire to harm any of you. You offered aid when I was vulnerable. I am in your debt.”

Donnie is practically vibrating with scientific curiosity. He has procured a PDA and taps away at the screen with a stylus. “Incredible! Are you truly immortal, or just exceptionally long-lived? Are there different blood types that are more palatable?”

His barrage of questions is almost overwhelming. You manage a faint smile. “Perhaps one question at a time?”

“Yeah, brainiac, let them breathe,” Mikey chimes in, though his own curiosity is palpable. He cautiously inches closer. “So, no bat-transforming then?”

You focus on Leo, who has remained silent and observant. “I understand your caution,” you say, meeting his gaze directly. “I am … different. My existence is a secret I have guarded for centuries. I suspect Bishop wishes to exploit that difference, to turn me into a weapon or a lab rat.” You wince as a sharp throb of pain emanates from your arm where the shock baton connected and the UV light grazed.

Leo notices the flicker of pain. His expression softens marginally. “You’re injured.” It’s a statement, not a question. “Donnie, can you …?”

Before Donnie can offer medical assistance, which you know would involve far too many invasive questions right now, you shake your head. “I heal quickly. The light—it’s the worst. But I will recover.” You pause, then decide a measure of honesty is warranted. “Sunlight, or concentrated UV like Bishop uses, is indeed a significant vulnerability. It doesn’t kill instantly, as some myths suggest, but it is excruciatingly painful and debilitating.”

Raph still looks unconvinced. “So you’re saying you’re a ‘good’ vampire? Like, you only drink … I dunno, tomato juice with iron supplements?” he sneers.

You resist the urge to bristle at his tone. “I told you, I do not prey on the unwilling. I have lived among humans for a very long time.”

Splinter strokes his chin. “It seems Agent Bishop has made an enemy of you, and now, by extension, he may consider my sons his enemies as well for their interference.” He looks at Leo. “Leonardo, what is your assessment?”

Leo finally looks away from you and to his father. “They were being hunted, Master. And Bishop’s methods were extreme. They didn’t attack until they cornered them. And they’re right; if they wanted to hurt us, they had ample opportunity when we brought them here.” He glances back at you. “But we still don’t know much. Why you? Why does Bishop want you specifically?”

“I don’t know another reason other than what I’ve said before,” you say. “But I know he has been hunting down rumors of my existence for years. And, obviously, he’d finally found a credible one.”

“So, you’re like super old?” Mikey asks, eyes wide. “How old? Older than Master Splinter? Uh, no offense, sensei!”

Splinter chuckles. “I suspect, Michelangelo, our guest may measure their years in centuries, not decades.”

You offer a small, almost sad smile. “Your Master is correct. My memory stretches back further than I sometimes care to recall.” You look around the lair. At these strange, honorable creatures who have offered you a lifeline. “I have always sought to live quietly, to remain unseen. Bishop threatens to shatter that peace, not just for me, but for anyone he deems abnormal.” You look pointedly at the turtles. “A sentiment I suspect you can understand.”

This strikes a chord. You see it in the shift in Raph’s posture, the flicker in Leo’s eyes, the thoughtful frown on Donnie’s face. They understand being hunted for being different.

“So, what now?” Raph asks, his tone still gruff but a fraction less hostile. “We just let Dracula’s cousin crash on our couch?”

Your gaze drifts towards him. “I have no intention of ‘crashing on your couch’ indefinitely. I have my own resources, a secure place. But returning there tonight would be unwise. Bishop will expect it.”

Leo nods in agreement. “He’ll have eyes on your known locations, if he has them. Staying off-grid for a bit is smart.” He looks around the lair. “We don’t exactly have a guest room, but we can make you comfortable.”

“You’ve already done more than I could have expected from strangers,” you reply, your voice sincere.

“Hospitality to those in need is a virtue, no matter how unconventional the guest is.” Splinter smiles gently. “Now, I believe some rest is in order for all of us. We’ll discuss strategies and Bishop after everyone rests.”

“I’ll set up a cot in my lab,” Donnie says. “It’s relatively quiet there, and I can monitor … well, ensure you’re undisturbed.”

You appreciate the offer, though the idea of being ‘monitored’ gives you a slight pause. Still, it’s better than the alternative. “Your lab will do fine. Thank you.”

As the turtles disperse, Raph lingers for a moment. He doesn’t approach, but his gaze is intense. “Just so we’re clear,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “You hurt my family, fangs or no fangs, and you’ll deal with me.”

You meet his stare unflinchingly. “I have no intention of harming anyone here. You have my word.”

He gives a curt nod, then turns and joins his brothers in retreating to their rooms. You follow Donnie towards his lab, where he clears a space and sets up a simple cot.

“The light controls are here,” he says, pointing to a panel. “I can ensure it remains completely dark, if you prefer.”

“I would appreciate that,” you say. The thought of any stray light, even artificial, makes your skin prickle after the UV assault.

“Right.” He adjusts the settings. “Emergency comm if you need anything.” He gestures to a small device on a nearby table. “Otherwise sleep well. Or, you know, rest. Whatever vampires do.” He gives an awkward smile.

You return it with a weary one of your own. “Rest will suffice. Thank you again. For everything.”

He nods, then quietly exits the lab, leaving you in the cool, encompassing darkness. You sink into the cot, the events of the night replaying in your mind. It’s a lot to process.

You are a creature of solitude, of carefully maintained secrecy. To be exposed, hunted, and then rescued by such improbable saviors is a paradigm shift you are still struggling to comprehend.

Eventually, you fall asleep, the faint hum of Donnie’s tech a strangely soothing lullaby in this hidden sanctuary beneath the city.

An uneasy truce settles over the lair.

Donnie, with your cautious permission, conducts a series of non-invasive scans and bombards you with a relentless barrage of questions. You answer patiently, detailing the science and history of your kind as you understand it.

Leo observes you constantly. He sees your restraint during training spars, your controlled movements, the way you never seem to lose your composure. He notices how you track conversations, picking up nuances others miss.

Raph remains the most openly suspicious. He makes pointed comments about your nocturnal habits (“Sun bothering ya, Fangs?”) and your diet (“So, what’s on the menu tonight? Bag O’ Positive?). Yet even he can’t entirely deny your unnerving effectiveness in a fight. He also, grudgingly, notes that you don’t flinch from danger.

Mikey, once he’s assured you won’t suddenly sprout wings and drain him, treats you with a weird mix of awe and friendliness. He grills you about traits of vampires from various media.

“So, can you, like, hypnotize people with your eyes? Is it true you can’t see your reflection? Oh! Oh! Do you sleep in a coffin? Because Donnie could totally build you a super-cool, souped-up one!” he says.

You smile. His genuine curiosity, free of the malice or fear you’ve encountered so often in your early life, feels refreshing. “Some of those are pure fiction. Others have a grain of truth.” You decide to indulge him, seeing the eager anticipation in his eyes. “I don’t want a coffin, but I prefer a dark, quiet space. And reflections—we cast them just like anyone else. It’s one of the more persistent, and frankly, annoying myths.”

Mikey’s face falls slightly at the coffin debunking, but brightens again. “Aww, man! But still, super cool!” He then looks at you, a softer, more earnest expression replacing his usual boisterousness. “It must be kinda lonely, though, huh? Being around for so long, seeing everything change.”

His unexpected insight catches you off guard, and you find yourself nodding slowly. “It has its moments.”

His gaze is gentle, and he offers you a hesitant, lopsided grin.

Later, Leo proposes a sparring session with everyone. And you agree.

Of course, you face Leo first. His movements are precise, disciplined. He attacks with focused intensity, testing your defenses. You meet him with fluid grace, parrying, deflecting, your own style a blend of ancient techniques and instinct. His eyes, usually so focused and serious, widen almost imperceptibly when you evade a complex maneuver with ease before you flow into a disarming counter.

He steps back, a thoughtful expression on his face. “You’re fast. Very fast.” There’s a new note in his voice, a hint of respect mixing with his usual caution. He looks at you, really looks at you. Not just as a potential threat or an unknown quantity, but as a warrior. His gaze lingers on your face for a moment longer than necessary, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths before he schools his features back into a neutral mask.

Raph is next, coming at you with raw power and aggression. “Alright, Fangs, let’s see if you’re more than just fancy moves!” he grunts, aiming to overwhelm you.

You meet his ferocity with calm, unyielding defense, redirecting his force, using his momentum against him. He’s strong, undeniably, but you’ve faced stronger, and certainly angrier. At one point, his sai skitters from his grasp after a clever wrist lock. He stares at it, then at you, a surprised, almost grudging admiration dawning on his face.

Raph says nothing, just grunts and picks up his weapon. But his usual taunts are notably absent for the rest of the spar. And when you finally pin him, he just lies there for a second, breathing hard, looking up at you with an expression you can’t quite decipher. It’s not anger. It’s … something else.

Something that makes your own pulse quicken.

He pushes himself up, still silent, and retreats to the side as Donnie takes his place. “I’m hoping to gather more data,” he says, readying his staff.

You meet his intellectual curiosity with a smile. “By all means, gather away.”

His fighting differs from Leo’s precision or Raph’s power. It’s analytical, probing, each strike and block a question. He’s testing your reaction times, your strength thresholds, and the limits of your agility. You find yourself enjoying it.

He lunges, a feint designed to draw you out. But you anticipate it, your hand brushing his arm as you evade. The contact is brief, almost accidental, but you see a faint flush rise on his green cheeks, his eyes widening a bit before he quickly refocuses.

“Remarkable,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, after you disarm him. He retrieves his staff, his gaze thoughtful and, you notice, lingering on your eyes for a moment longer than strictly necessary for combat assessment before he moves away.

Lastly, Mikey comes forward. “My turn, super-V! Let’s see if you can handle the whirlwind!”

His style is all wild exuberance, unpredictable and surprisingly effective because of it. He’s less about winning and more about the joy of the movement, the thrill of the exchange. You don’t go all out; there’s no need. Instead, you match his energy, turning the spar into something closer to a dance, albeit a fast one.

He whoops with delight when you catch his nunchaku mid-swing, your fingers brushing his. Unlike Donnie’s slight flush, Mikey just grins wider, his eyes sparkling. And he doesn’t seem to mind when you take advantage of an opening and come out on top. He just laughs, slinging an arm around your shoulders in a casual, friendly hug.

But he pulls back a little after a few moments, suddenly shy. “Uh, sorry. Got carried away. You’re just … really cool, you know?” His gaze is earnest, and you feel a warmth spread through you. His eyes flick down to your lips for a fleeting second before darting back up to meet your gaze, a boyish blush on his cheeks.

Leo nods, still studying you. “Your style is unique. Who taught you?”

“Time,” you reply simply. “And necessity.”

Your eyes meet his, and that unreadable flicker is there again, stronger this time. He seems to hold your gaze for a long moment, the noise of the lair fading into the background. You feel a strange pull—before he tears his gaze away as Raph addresses the group.

“Good to know Bishop’s lackeys won’t be the only ones getting a surprise if they try something.”

In the following weeks, you become a fixture in the lair.

Leo seeks you out for late-night conversations. Ostensibly, he wants to discuss potential EPF tactics or patrol routes. But you notice how his questions often stray to your long existence.

“It must give you a unique perspective,” he says one evening, his voice softer than usual, his gaze fixed on you.

His eyes, you note, don’t just skim over you anymore; they seem to search, to understand the centuries etched into your being. When you share a rare, wistful memory, a ghost of a smile touches his lips, and you feel a shared understanding of duty and the weight of carrying secrets. He often finds reasons to be near, a reassuring presence by your side when you’re all gathered, his hand sometimes brushing yours when passing an object, a touch that sends a jolt through you.

Raph’s taunts lessen, replaced by respect that manifests in odd ways. He still tries to provoke you into sparring matches. But now there’s a distinct energy to them. He pushes you, and when you push back, a fiery glint appears in his eyes that’s not entirely anger. He also starts using your name more often, the sound of it rough but no longer accusatory. It makes your stomach flutter.

Donnie shows you his latest inventions, his voice eager as he explains the complex mechanics, his eyes bright when you grasp a tough concept. He stammers a bit when you compliment his ingenuity. You notice him watching you when he thinks you’re not looking, a soft, almost tender expression on his face that makes your ancient heart beat a little faster.

Mikey wears his heart on his sleeve. His awe solidifies into a puppyish affection. He pesters you with endless questions about your ‘super vampire powers.’ Shares his comic books and watches movies with you. He saves you the best slice of pizza and dedicates his video game victories to you. Adoration beams from him, warming you from the inside out.

A sense of belonging washes over you, a feeling you haven’t allowed yourself to experience in centuries. You find yourself smiling more at these four remarkable brothers, so different, who chip away at your guard. You care about them, more than you thought possible. More than is perhaps wise.

Unfortunately, one evening, the fragile peace shatters without warning.

You are in the main living area, listening to Donnie explain a new security algorithm he’s designed for the lair’s perimeter, Leo nodding thoughtfully beside him, when a deafening explosion rips through the lair from the direction of one of the main tunnel access points. The ground heaves, lights flicker and die, plunging you into emergency backup power.

“What was that?!” Mikey yells, tumbling off the couch.

“Intruder alert! Multiple breaches!” Donnie shouts, already at his console, fingers flying across the keyboard. His voice is tight with alarm. “They’re coming in from the old subway access! And the storm drain junction! Heavy weapon signatures!”

“EPF!” Leo barks, katanas already in his hands, his eyes immediately finding yours. “They found us!”

Raph is already moving, sai drawn, a furious snarl twisting his features. “Let ‘em come! They want a fight, they’ll get one!”

Before anyone can formulate a more detailed plan, the first wave of EPF commandos, clad in reinforced black armor and new, heavier-grade UV projectors, smash through a weakened section of the wall, sending debris and dust flying.

“Targets acquired!” a voice shouts from the advancing line. “Prioritize Omega-Six and the terrapin subjects! Bishop wants them alive!”

The air crackles with energy blasts and the distinct hum of UV emitters powering up. You react instantly, a blur of motion. You shove Donnie away from his console just as a concentrated beam scorches the spot where he stood. The heat washes over your arm, a searing pain. But you grit your teeth against it.

You see Mikey, momentarily frozen as an agent wielding an electrified net advances on him. Without a second thought, you launch yourself across the room. You intercept the net with your forearm, the electricity coursing through you, agonizing but bearable for a moment. You snarl, and with your free hand, you disarm the agent with a single, brutal blow to his wrist, then hurl him into two of his comrades, clearing a path for Mikey.

A fervent gratitude fills his eyes when they meet yours for a fleeting second, making your chest ache. “Thanks!” he says, shaking off his fear and joining the fray.

Raph is a whirlwind of fury, taking down agents left and right, but he’s outnumbered. You see an agent take aim at his exposed back with a sonic cannon. And you move faster than you’ve allowed them to see before, smashing the cannon with a powerful kick before it can fire. Raph glances back at you, shocked, before something akin to awe flashes across his face.

“Impressive, Omega-Six!” Bishop’s voice echoes from a comm unit on one of the downed agents. “But you can’t protect them all. Your sentimentality is a weakness.”

More agents pour in. They’re using flashbangs, disorienting sonics, and those cursed UV lights, trying to box you all in. Leo is fighting valiantly. But he’s being forced back, a pained grunt escaping him as a beam grazes his shoulder. You feel an icy rage building, an ancient fury you’ve suppressed for centuries.

These are your turtles he’s threatening. These are the beings who showed you kindness, who have become so important to you.

“Fall back to the dojo!” Leo yells, clutching his injured shoulder, his voice strained.

You help cover their retreat. You’re not just incapacitating now; you’re disabling the agents with ruthless efficiency, breaking weapons, shattering visors, ensuring they stay down. The pain from your own burns and bruises is nothing compared to the adrenaline coursing through you, your protective instincts overriding everything else.

In the dojo, the fighting is close-quarters, brutal. Splinter joins the fray, a surprisingly formidable warrior despite his age, his movements economical and devastating. But Bishop’s forces are relentless.

Suddenly, a section of the ceiling explodes. Rappel lines drop, and more EPF troopers descend—among them Bishop himself, his cold eyes fixing on you. He’s holding a newly designed, high-powered UV rifle, its muzzle glowing ominously.

“Omega-Six,” he says, his voice devoid of emotion. “Your association with these aberrations has made this far more complicated than it needed to be. But ultimately, more rewarding. Six prizes instead of one.”

He aims the rifle, not at you, but at a stunned Mikey, who’s trying to help a winded Donnie to his feet after a nasty blow.

Time seems to slow. You see the barrel glow with deadly violet light. You see Mikey’s wide, terrified eyes turn towards the threat, too late to react. There’s no choice. Not really.

Not anymore.

You throw yourself in front of Mikey, your back to Bishop—

—and the UV beam hits you squarely in the spine.

Pain rips through you; it’s like being set on fire from the inside. Your vision whites out, a scream tearing from your throat. You collapse, twitching, the smell of your own scorched flesh filling your nostrils. You hear all four brothers scream your name.

Through the searing agony, you hear Raph roar, a sound of pure, murderous rage as he charges Bishop. Leo is there too, moving with a speed born of desperation, despite his injury, his katanas aimed at Bishop’s throat. Donnie fires an EMP pulse from a downed agent’s weapon, momentarily disabling some of the EPF tech.

Including Bishop’s weapon, which sputters and dies.

Mikey attacks the agents nearest you with a ferocity you’ve never seen from him. Bishop, momentarily distracted by Raph’s furious assault and his malfunctioning weapon, stumbles back. He fires wildly with a sidearm, but Leo deflects the shots.

“Fall back! Withdraw!” Bishop snarls into his comm, realizing the tide has turned too sharply, his element of surprise lost.

You’re on the ground, vision swimming, every nerve ending screaming. You can barely move. But you see Bishop, through a haze of pain, trying to make his escape as his remaining troopers cover his retreat. He’s getting away. The one who orchestrated this, the one who wants to dissect you, to weaponize you, the one who just tortured you.

Revenge. It burns even through the agony. You could try to push through the pain, but your eyes snag on Mikey who is scrambling towards you, his voice choked as he calls your name.

“You saved me! Oh, dudes, they’re … they’re really hurt!” he yells, skidding to a halt beside you, his hands hovering, afraid to touch.

Raph, having driven Bishop back, turns from the retreating EPF, his chest heaving. He sees you, and the murderous rage in his eyes momentarily flickers, replaced by a horrified concern. He deflects a stray blast meant for Mikey, roaring as he shoves an agent away from your vicinity, his gaze constantly returning to your fallen form.

Leo creates a defensive perimeter, his voice sharp with command but laced with an undercurrent of fear when he shouts your name, his eyes locking with yours for a heart-stopping second. He’s fighting to get to you, to shield you.

Donnie, having dispatched the agent near him, is already by your side, opposite Mikey. His usual calm is gone, replaced by a frantic urgency. “The burn … it’s … extensive,” he says, his hands gentle as he tries to assess the damage to your back without causing more pain.

You see them. Their fear. Their fight.

The desire for revenge on Bishop, potent as it is, dims. It cannot compare to the overwhelming, fierce need to ensure they are safe. He can wait. They are here, fighting for you.

“Don’t move,” Donnie orders, his voice trembling slightly. “Leo, we need to clear them out! Now!”

“Raph! Mikey! Push them back to the breach!” Leo commands.

Once the last of Bishop’s men are finally driven out or incapacitated, the turtles are all around you.

“You … you saved Mikey,” Leo says, his voice rough with emotion as he kneels beside you. He gently brushes a stray lock of hair from your forehead. His gaze holds yours, and in that moment, the tactical leader is gone, replaced by someone whose fear for you is heart-wrenchingly clear.

Donnie is still trying to assess the full extent of the damage. “Your healing factor—it’s working, but this is … bad.” He looks at you, his gaze filled with anguish as he smiles at you sadly. “Why did you do that?”

Raph stands over you, his usual scowl replaced by an expression of fury and guilt. “You didn’t have to do that,” he admonishes. He avoids looking directly at your injury. But the fierce protectiveness in his eyes, when they meet yours, catches your breath.

“You’re the bravest person I know,” Mikey says, carefully taking your hand. “Don’t worry, we’ll fix you up.”

You try to offer a reassuring smile, but it’s likely more of a grimace. “Bishop …”

“Forget Bishop,” Leo says, his voice firm, his gaze unwavering on yours. “He’s gone. You’re here. That’s all that matters right now.” His hand gently settles on your uninjured arm. “We’ve got you.”

Looking at their faces, seeing the raw emotion in their eyes, you realize the truth of Leo’s words. For now, Bishop doesn’t matter. Revenge can wait.

The four brothers, who are fast becoming your everything, cannot.

[summer-fruits-and-cream]

I think the main reason people don't want to have kids anymore is that they underestimate balancing happiness with meaning in life. I feel like a lot of traditional talk about children was all about fulfillment, and now there's much more talk about the time and money you lose.

And also that they think parents should be perfect, but that might be a bigger problem with people who are chronically online idk. They've taken the "people with severe issues that can hurt kids shouldn't have them" and went a little extreme.

I have a lot of secular friends so I don't think I'm off-base in saying that I don't think careerism is actually the main reason a lot of women are not having children. I think a lot simply don't want to deal with kids

[joyswonderland1108]

The Coping Mechanisms in This Fandom Deserve an Oscar, Actually.

So i just witnessed another post bashing Jimin solos (because that's the trending sport of the week apparently), and well.. funny thing is, the entire post aged like milk under 24 hours because plot twist: Jimin is receiving death threats right now. But nah, let's not talk about that. Let's circle back to the real crime: Jimin solos existing.

And you know what truly sent me? Some random reply under a quote repost screaming "Why are you defending Jimin solos?! JK won't fuck Jimin!!!"

... I'm sorry, what? What kind of Cirque du Soleil mental gymnastics did you perform to jump from "Jimin solos are annoying" to "JK won't be raw-dogging Jimin"? The person who quote reposted didn't even defend Jimin solos, bestie, calm down. But your brain really said: Jimin solos annoying => Someone says "Hmm you're not talking about the ACTUAL issue and this is only attracting antis to your page => OH NO, PAY GORN, SAY GEX INCOMING.

I mean the sheer velocity with which some of y'all spin into delusion is impressive. Like, Olympic level delusion.

But let's talk about this weird phenomenon where solos act like they own the member they solo stan. Like "I'm a JK solo, therefore i will bite, scratch, claw and bark at any living being he's close to." Y'all do realize the members have known each other for over a decade, right? They've lived together, cried together, succeeded together, and you think your Twitter fingers have more insight into their relationships than they do? Girl be serious.

You don't like OT7? Fine, go ahead, live your half-baked solo stan life. But the very LEAST you could do is not spew venom at the people your fave literally loves and trusts. You calling Jimin or Tae or JK names like "pigmin" or "nosekook" or "baldhyung" (yep, we've seen all of these) doesn't change the fact that they're close. That's not how friendship, or reality, works.

And the whole enlistment arc? Comedy gold.

When those people speculated about Tae and JK enlisting together, Tae solos and JK solos teamed up like it was "Infinity War: Solo Stan Edition". Fangs out, rabies foaming, barking like chihuahuas on Red Bull. All because someone said "Wouldn't it be cute if they enlisted together?"

They didn't. And yet.. the barking continued. The war raged on.

THEN Jimin and JK enlist together and suddenly the internet flips. JK solos immediately scream "GROOMING! MANIPULATION! JIMIN WHY!!"

But hold on, plot twist again, it comes out that JK initiated the buddy system. Now Jimin solos flip and go "Why can't he leave Jimin alone?!"

And Tae solos, bless their chaotic little hearts, still manage to insert themselves into the narrative like, "Good! Leave Tae out of this!!" and proceed to call both Jimin and JK names.

You're not even in this war! Why are you fighting?! This is not your anime arc! Pack it up.

The best part? After all that foaming at the mouth, keyboard smashing, and projecting, the boys are just.. happy. Thriving. Living their best lives. Unbothered. Meanwhile you're still in your solo stan echo chamber, clutching your fantasy life it pays rent.

Hate to break it to you, but you don't get to dictate who these men love, trust, spend time with, or go to the military with. You're not their CEO, psychic, or parent. You are a pixel in the void. No matter how many hasthags you spam or how many edits you make cutting a member out of the group photos, the reality is: you're just an incel with a K-pop obsession.

And the final gag? You say you love your fave so much, but can't even respect the people they love. What does that say about you?

I'll tell you what it says: You don't actually respect your fave. You just use them as an avatar for your own unresolved emotional damage and weird little power trip.

Anyway, save up your money for the BTS tour. For clarity.