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tojicide · 7 months ago

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OBSESSED. ☆ SYLUS.

📰 extra, extra! why is your bodyguard so obsessed with you? girl, you wanna know...

warnings. fem!reader, popstar!reader, bodyguard!sylus, established romantic history ( very brief ), pet names, semi-public, fingering, oral ( fem. receiving ), cowgirl, unprotected p in v. wc. 4.6k.

an. reused the header and a bit of the plot from an aaron hotchner fanfic i wrote on wattpad in like… 2021??? tweaked most of the details obvs but ig i was born as a bodyguard au lover

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Your bodyguard was such a buzzkill.

Dragging you out of every party you make an appearance at, replacing your shots with water once he believes you’ve had one too many, watching you like a hawk no matter where you are or who you’re with...

You despise those who have an inability to have fun, so as far as you’re concerned, Sylus is the devil reincarnated. You aren’t exactly shy about your opinion of him either, and perhaps in hindsight, that is exactly why he was currently pacing through the party you’re in attendance of to try and ruin your night yet again.

(Ruin your night or… do his job? Hell if you care about the logistics of it all. Two sides of the same coin, you think.)

His protective instinct only grew more intense ever since the two of you shared a kiss before a concert of yours that left your lipstick smeared over your face like there was no tomorrow…

And what did that asshole do? Nothing. It was in his nature to make your life miserable after all. Sylus let you walk out in front of your thousands of fans, makeup messy and appearance disheveled all from his mouth on yours alone.

And boy, did the tabloids have a time with that one… Who was the culprit? A new fling of yours? Fiancé? Possible baby daddy? Each and every news outlet had some uniquely wrong to say. Can’t a girl have a makeout session with her bodyguard in peace?

Unfortunately for you, the paparazzi have been hounding you ever since that day, itching to get the 4-1-1 on your love life.

And ever since, you haven’t given many people the time of day��including Sylus. Tonight, you’ve managed to stay two steps ahead of your dear bodyguard and evade eventual capture for just a bit longer. You’re currently surrounded by a few of your friends, socialites and actors alike.

Your lips seem to flap freely when you have a few drinks in you, but tonight, you’re sober but even more talkative than ever. Your chosen topic of conversation? Your overbearing and stupidly handsome bodyguard, of course.

Too lost in your story, waving your arms around to your theatrical pleasure, you hardly noticed the way your friends’ faces paled to a ghostly shade of white, their eyes nearly bulging out of their heads and their lips parted as if they had something to say but… couldn’t.

All the while, you were too busy blowing off the steam that you’d acquired from your last encounter with the forsaken bodyguard. “…And I was like, why are you so obsessed with me?”

As fate would have it, you hear a throat clear behind you followed by an annoyed sigh that you’ve grown to know like the back of your hand. You spin around, already wearing a scowl.

“Obsessed with you, hm?” Sylus says, his voice low and seemingly dangerous, though your utter distaste for the man rids him of his intimidation. “You’re quite self important. I could never live in a world where I’d fall at the feet of an egotistical popstar.”

You roll your eyes at that. Who does he think he is? Everyone loves you—all except for the disgustingly handsome man standing in front of you.

“Mm… well, you can always die an untimely death and never have to work for me again,” you reply, giving him the most passive aggressive smile known to man. “Hopefully that gives you an ounce of hope.”

“It does,” he replies, returning the same expression that you gave him.

It’s borderline infuriating how undisturbed Sylus was. No, it is infuriating. No matter how many insults you chucked his way, he never cracked. (And the one time he did, it led to the two of you playing tonsil tennis in your dressing room...)

You shake your head, huffing in utter annoyance. You then hold your wrists up for display, cocking your head to the side as you give him a mock puppy dog expression. “Sooo… are you here to take me away, Officer Buzzkill?”

Sylus merely blinks in response to your taunting, taking a firm grasp on one of your wrists before he tugs you through the sea of partygoers. He laces your fingers together, squeezing tight as to not lose hold of you.

“Must you always make things so difficult?” he asks, keeping his eyes ahead.

You shrug your shoulders. “More or less.”

“More or less?” he echoes, glancing over his shoulder to properly look at you. “I suggest you try a different style of communication, sweetness. Your clipped attitude will get you nowhere.”

“Oh? But it’s gotten me so far already…” you trail off, glancing at his lips for a few agonizingly long seconds before a smirk tugs on the corner of your mouth. “In fact, I think it can get me even further.”

Sylus’s jaw tenses, his eyes slipping shut as he tears his gaze away from you. He can’t handle the way you’re looking at him—so unbelievably beautiful with those siren eyes of yours, the mere sight of you already stirring something unwanted within him.

He turns around to continue leading you through the crowd without a reply. You begin to glance around yourself, attempting to plot your brilliant escape.

“Don’t,” he flatly states, his iron grip tightening on your hand.

“Why not?” you ask, your voice holding a strong tone of defiance.

Sylus gives your hand one solid tug before you’re standing in front of him, his free hand pressing onto the small of your back as he keeps you pressed to his chest. “If you haven’t noticed, you brat, I will always chase you. I’ll find you just the same.”

You almost deflate under his intense gaze, his deep red eyes piercing through your own. It wasn’t often that Sylus manhandled you, but when he did, it made you feel… different. Intrigued, maybe.

“How touching,” you deadpan, “but you still get on my nerves.”

Sylus clicks his tongue. “Tch. Oh, I’m sorry… when have I ever cared about what you think?”

“Never,” you say with a dramatic sigh. “You know… if you hate me so much, you should just quit on me.”

Sylus rolls his eyes, his red irises drawing you in like no other. “I don’t… hate you. You should be rather thankful that I don’t, because I’m doubtful that anyone else would want this job of mine—you’re quite the handful.”

“Mm, I’m only saying,” you murmur with a shrug, giving his hand a harsh squeeze as if the roughness of your grasp would make him let go, but he, of course, does not. “You don’t need this job, and yet, here you are.”

He raises a brow. “What do you mean by that?”

You smile, the same shit-eating grin that he has grown to be all too familiar with. “Give me your wallet.”

Sylus huffs, his broad shoulders deflating as he fishes his black leather wallet from his back pocket and hands it over to you. You take it with ease, taking your hand from his as you crack it open.

You slip his Black Card from the sleeve, proving that he truly didn’t need the job for any monetary gain. And then, a triumphant smile graces your lips as you pull out none other than a Polaroid photo taken of you—backstage at your concert just before the kiss you two shared.

“Ooh… what’s this?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

Sylus reaches forward to try and snatch the tiny photo from you, but you are far too quick. “What are you revealing exactly? That you were secretly snooping in my wallet prior to now?”

“Yes,” you admit without hesitation, “and that you’re secretly rich and in love with me. Does that make us even?”

His jaw sets, his piercing gaze set on yours. He works to snatch the photo from you, tucking his belongings back into his wallet before he slips it into his pocket. “No. Maybe if you were less of a pain, we could be even.”

You wiggle your eyebrows in suggestion. “You’re not denying being in love with me, dear bodyguard of mine.”

Sylus gives you a deadpan expression. “Must you always be so self righteous? God forbid I am proud of you and your success.”

The genuine nature of his words set you back a step, your brows knitting together and your lips parting. If Sylus noticed the shift of your expression, he didn’t mention it. Thankfully. His cold fingers lace with yours once more, continuing the stride towards the exit of the party.

“Rather than putting on this show of yours, you truly should be thanking me for saving your reputation,” he quietly adds, his hand now curled around your waist as you approach the exit. “There is a swarm of paparazzi outside who are desperate to get their grimy hands on a picture of their beloved popstar doing something remotely scandalous.”

(And if Sylus knows anything about you, it’s that you love scandals. According to you, they ‘make life worth living’. Tch. Diva.)

You chuckle. “Aww, you care!”

“Do I care, or is it my job to look after you?” he asks, plucking his sunglasses from his pocket to place them on your face, shielding your eyes from the rapid camera flashes of the paparazzi. “Public intoxication numerous times a week is not a very good look for you, sweetie. Incredibly frowned upon.”

Your jaw sets as you listen to his words. While they are undeniably true, you don’t have any plans for admitting that—not now or in the near future.

“Making out with my bodyguard is frowned upon as well, but you didn’t seem to be complaining about that bit,” you say under your breath.

Your voice was low enough that your weighted words were almost drowned out by the booming music of the party and by the chatter of the photographers you’re about to be engulfed in. Almost.

Sylus flashes you a glare. “You shouldn’t mumble. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

“You heard me,” you state.

He did hear you, that was exactly the problem. It was no coincidence that the two of you haven’t spoken much since your very intense lip lock. You’ve been avoiding each other, evading the invisible string that connects the two of you like both an electric current and a noose.

The tension between the two of you was tangible, palpable even—you could practically taste it just as well as you could still taste his lips on your own. It was intoxicating, imprinting, searing.

It managed to distract you from the flashing lights of the cameramen who were swarming you, capturing flick after flick of you being led through the crowd.

You chew on the inside of your cheek. “You know, you can help me out with all of this,” you murmur, gesturing towards the paparazzi. “My publicist came up with an idea that will get them off my back for a while. Give them the answers they need and… whatnot.”

“Is that right?” he asks, glancing your way. “Do tell.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, tuning out all of the chattering paparazzi who are currently surrounding you. “Be my impromptu mystery man for the cameras. I’ll give you anything you want in return, I swear it.”

Sylus hums, the sound omitting a deep rumble into the air. “Anything I want? My, my, sweets, you’ve made me an offer I cannot refuse.”

You huff, grasping onto the collar of his jacket as you pull him into you. “Just go with it.”

“Just go with wh— mmph!” Sylus’s words were muffled by your lips slotting against his in a searing kiss, his hands instinctively finding their home on the curve of your hips.

The kiss was… tame. It was supposed to be, after all. It was merely for the cameras, a way for you to put an answer to the questions that have been flooding your inbox and left your name circulating in the news for days on end.

But when Sylus’s tongue brushes against your bottom lip, you slightly pull away, muttering a faint, “Sylus, what’re you…” before he pulls you right back in, his large hand now resting on your cheek.

“If you’re going to use me like a whore at your disposal, I’d suggest you let me enjoy myself and taste you properly,” he sporadically says into your mouth, his hand shifting to tangle in your hair as he tilts you to his liking, your tongues meeting in with gentle swipes. “See? I knew you could do better than that.”

True to his suggestion, you kissed him like there was no tomorrow, your hands fisting his shirt in your palms as your lips moved in tandem with his. Lipstick and paparazzi long forgotten, you find yourself getting lost in the moment, a soft whimper leaving your mouth as his hands give your hips a firm squeeze.

The moment he hears that sweet, impossibly faint sound of your pleasure, he knows that he’s in for it now. That’ll do it for him.

He abruptly pulls away, clasping his hand onto yours as he continues pulling you through the now stunned crowd of paparazzi. Sporting an erection and your lipstick smeared on his lips makes no difference to Sylus—if anything, he enjoys the world knowing that he has the hots for the woman who he has sworn to protect.

Sylus helps you into the passenger seat of your black SUV, closing the door behind you before making his way to the driver’s seat. He peels off, driving with intention through the streets of the city.

It was now evident to you that he was driving the SUV in pursuit of his favorite lookout spot, one that overlooks the bustling city from a distance. Sylus had taken you there once before as per your request to ‘stay out a bit later’. Nothing happened then, but you have an inclination that your luck has changed.

“I know what I want from you,” he states, placing a hand on your thigh.

How did he already manage to figure out what he wants in return for helping you? A raise? A car? The blood of his enemies? You’re intrigued, raising a brow. “You do?”

“I do,” he confirms without missing a beat. “Get into the backseat.”

A gasp leaves your kiss swollen lips as you mull over the utter implications of his words. It didn’t take a genius to understand them, but you were… surprised to say the least. “I think you’re overstepping your boundaries, Mr. Qin.”

In a literal sense, sure he was. But if the two of you were going to judge based on what you two want, he absolutely wasn’t—you both knew that.

He chuckles, the sound low yet infuriatingly sexy. His hand slips beneath your skirt, his middle finger brushing along the damp spot of your panties. “Your body seems to disagree with you, ma’am.”

And if you weren’t already wet before, hearing him call you ma’am was more than enough to do it for you. “Shut up,” you grumble.

“You can make me,” he suggests, setting the vehicle into park before giving your thigh a few pats. He nods his head towards the backseat. “Go on.”

Without hesitation, you kick your heels off and crawl into the back of the vehicle, thumping down on the seat with a sharp sigh. Sylus follows you within the blink of an eye, his knees settling on the spacious floor of the car.

“What’re you…” you ask, though your eyebrows raise as the pieces of the puzzle click together in your mind. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh,” he repeats, his warm hands rubbing your knees as he spreads your legs apart, his lips finding the tender skin of your inner thigh. “You know… you truly should be resting for your show tomorrow evening.”

“Should I?” You bite on your bottom lip as he leans forward, nosing at your clothed pussy with a muffled moan of his own. He inhales deeply, the scent of your arousal driving him to the brink of insanity.

“You should,” he answers, pressing an open mouthed kiss on your cunt through the fabric of your panties. “You should stop talking too. You need to rest your voice just as much.”

You swallow hard, whimpering ever so softly as his fingers hook beneath the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs to give himself access to your glistening core.

His eyes are set on your heat, his cool hands hiking your thighs over his shoulders. He rests his cheek on the warmth of your inner thigh, glancing up at you. “Because believe me, sweetie, the things that I want to do to you will not be in favor of that beautiful voice of yours.”

“Oh?” you ask, titling your head. “What will they be in favor of?”

He grins, wicked and devilishly handsome. “I’m glad you asked, because there’s someone else I’ve been wanting to hear from.”

Before you have the chance to reply, he’s already got his face delving deep between your legs, the filthy sounds of squelches and slurping filling the otherwise silent car.

“Oh, I— mmh, you didn’t answer my… my question,” you stammer out between breathy moans, your head tilting back on the headrest as your eyes flutter shut.

Sylus smiles into your pussy, pointing his tongue to accentuate the squelching noises that your heat was making, entirely wet and dripping for him.

“Can you not hear her?”

Never in your life did you think that having a man on his knees talking to your cunt would be this arousing, but… you’re fucking soaked.

“I-I can,” you gasp, cracking your eyes open to look down at him. “Fuck, you can talk to her in fifty languages for all I care, holy shit.”

He quietly chuckles, the sound sending a spark of vibrations onto your already sensitive clit. Your thighs tense, aching to close on him, but he keeps them spread with his strong hands on your thighs.

Your lips part as a string of breathy sounds leave you, beautiful moans and needy whimpers alike—all of which play as music to Sylus’s ears. It was nice to know that your mouth was good for more than just singing and bickering at him…

Teeth nibbling into your bottom lip, you glance down at him, only to be met with the most crazed eyes known to mankind. So disheveled, your slick leaking down his chin while his tongue delves into your heat like a man starved. He looks like he’s in his own pussy drunk heaven.

When you feel his pointed tongue begin to curve and lick in ways it hadn’t before, you do your best to follow his movements.

S-Y-L-U-S he spells on your puffy cunt with his writing tool of choice—none other than his stupidly talented tongue.

“You’re so—”

“Shh,” he cuts you off, his voice more like a husky whisper now. His pupils were dilated to the size of saucers, sucking on your clit before releasing it with a harsh pop.

Filthy sounds fill the air, your own breathy moans spilling from your swollen lips in tandem with the messy sucks of Sylus’s lips on your cunt. Not to mention, your girl truly was loud.

“Singing so beautifully for me,” he rasps, his eyes flitting up to watch your blissful expression. Lidded eyes, parted lips, flushed skin—an absolute wet dream of his come to life.

You bite your lip, hardly focused on the words coming out of his mouth. “Mmh, what…?”

“Quiet, sweets,” he repeats, hooking his hands even tighter around your thighs as he gives your heat a few more harsh licks. “I told you I was talking to her, didn’t I?”

It doesn’t take much longer for your legs to begin to tremble, your body writhing in his grasp as he sets you any way but loose. Your hips buck up, your core grinding against his wet muscle as you chase your release.

Sylus was more than eager to give it to you, redoubling his efforts while locking his hands over your legs to keep you steady enough for him to pleasure you effectively. The warmth pooling in your belly was far too much, far more intense than anything you had ever experienced before.

“Mmh, I… I’m coming,” you warn through an airy whine.

And when you do, Sylus swoops in even more greedily than before, his flat tongue lapping at your honeyed release. There was no way he would ever be able to go without tasting you like this now that he has. Fuck, he’s such a goner.

As you come down from your high, you grin with a few pants. “Look at you, falling at the feet of your ‘egotistical popstar’—mmph!”

Sylus plunges two fingers into your mouth to shut you up, rising to plant himself onto the seat beside you. “That’s hardly an insult to me anymore, my dear. I know what I am.”

He pulls his spit slick fingers from your mouth, bringing them to your pussy as he gently circles your sensitive clit. His free hand guides you through the motion of straddling his lap. With a simple nod of his head, he gestures for you to lift your shirt up, and you do.

“And what’s that?” you ask, watching as he leans forward to mouth at your breasts through the fabric of your bra.

“I’ve already told you,” he murmurs, bringing his free hand to his belt to free his cock from the confines of his pants. “A whore at your disposal.”

“I knew it,” you chuckle, though the sweet sound is interrupted by a breathy moan that he coaxes out of you once he slides his fat cockhead along your folds.

He clicks his tongue, tilting his head to the side. “Are you not going to reciprocate my affection?” he teases, grasping tightly onto your hips. “Or do I have to work a bit harder for it, ma’am?”

Your knees would have certainly buckled if they weren’t firmly planted on the leather seats of the SUV. Who would have thought that you had a thing for white-haired bodyguards who call you ‘ma’am’?

Sylus raises a brow, a cocky smirk tugging on his lips. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

You feel your face heating up more and more the longer you look him in the eyes, shifting your hips so that the tip of his cock finally meets your entrance. “Just… shut up and put it in.”

“How demanding,” he hums, smirking ever so slightly as he uses his grasp on you to make one sharp snap of his hips, burying balls deep inside of your heat. “But as you wish, pretty.”

You cry out immediately, the burn of the stretch fading into unfolding pleasure. Eyes locked on each other’s, breaths mingling with ease, skin slicked with sweat, it was…

“Perfect,” he whispers, smoothing his hands along your hips before one reaches up to cup your cheek. He pulls you into a deep, searing kiss. “So, so perfect.”

Your movements are timid at first, you were merely testing the waters that had yet to be explored. His cock stuffed you full, his tip kissing your deepest points with ease, earning a muffled whimper from your mouth that his lips swallowed up eagerly.

Sylus begins to help you move a bit quicker, rocking your hips forward in smooth rolls, earning moans from the both of you that seemed to come straight from your guts.

“Give it to me how you like it, baby,” he encourages, both of his hands planting firmly on your waist. “Use my cock however you need it, sweets, it’s yours.”

His words have your clit pulsating around his thick shaft, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you begin to work up a pace of your own that has your heart beating wildly.

“I always… fuck—I always knew you were obsessed with me,” you jest, your grin stretching wide.

Sylus hums, the sound low and deep, his iron grip on your hips helping you maintain the intensity of your movements whenever your muscles beg for a break. “Yeah? Needed me to be buried inside of you to have that bit of confirmation?”

You nod with a smile, hands wrapping around his neck as you plant your forehead against his. He smiles too, a breathy moan leaving his mouth as you circle your hips in a way that has him seeing stars.

“Fuck yeah, I’m obsessed with you,” he admits without a semblance of shame, tilting his head back on the headrest.

Already feeling your second orgasm approaching, you bury your face in his neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne and sweat that made a musk that was so beautifully Sylus. His hands smooth over your backside, giving your ass a squeeze.

“Tch, let me see that pretty face,” he demands, nudging you with his shoulder so that you were sitting up once more. “You look so beautiful like this.”

You struggle to form a sentence, bouncing unabashedly on his cock, skin slapping together in an erratic pattern that spurred you even further. A string of whimpers and whines leave your puffy lips. Though your reply lacked words, it perfectly communicated what you wanted to say.

“Oh, I know it, baby,” he rasps, tilting his head back again as his eyes slip shut. “Pussy’s addictive—shit, I’m obsessed with her too.”

You begin to lose yourself all together, reduced to nothing more than a blissed out woman riding her bodyguard’s cock. “Sylus, I… mmh, I’m gonna cum.”

He nods in understanding, smoothing his hand through your hair as he brings you in for another kiss. It’s all teeth and tongue, messy and drooling in the most beautiful way possible.

“Gonna come inside you if you keep riding me like this, baby,” he warns, pulling back to look you in the eyes.

You feel his cock twitch inside of you, as if it were confirming his words. You don’t do this often, contrary to popular belief, but you are on the pill. Luckily. “Please do.”

Sylus pants through a smile, licking his lips as he guides you through a few more fleshed out grinds on his lap. “Huh… you really are something special.”

A deep groan leaves his mouth as he dips his head, grip tightening on your waist as you ride him through your shared orgasm. You aren’t sure where yours ended and his began, or if you had gotten the order wrong entirely. All you know is that in that moment, the two of you became one.

Panting, your hand plants on the fogged up window of the vehicle, leaving your handprint in its wake. Sylus lets out a breathy chuckle, raising his own shaking hand to the window.

You watch through lidded eyes as he draws a tiny heart, writing his and your first initials inside of it with a little + in the middle. How cute.

Sylus then turns to face you again, bringing his hand to your cheek. You nuzzle into his palm, placing a kiss on his skin. “I have something to admit.”

He nods his head a single time, beckoning you to continue. “What is it?”

You give him a wry smile. “My publicist never gave me the idea for that publicity stunt.”

“…I figured that much, sweetie.”

note. bodyguard!sylus, my glorious king… ok i lowkey hate this but it holds no purpose saving up space in my drafts so :D pls interact if you enjoyed, rbs are greatly appreciated <3 thank you for readingggg !!!

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#♥︎ tojicide #sylus x y/n #sylus x you #sylus qin #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #sylus smut #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #sylus #love and deepspace #love & deepsace x reader #love & deepspace #lnds smut #lnds #lnds x reader #au

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inkandapex · 2 months ago

Text

stream madness pt. 4

Lando Norris x Y/N

Summary: Twitch streams, chaos during trivia, and one very soft Lando Norris. Whenever Y/N shows up on stream, fans get more than they bargained for. Between Max F's third-wheeling, and Lando's doting habits, the internet can't keep up.

Words: 5.3k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of period, pregnancy

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Five star michelin

The stream blinked to life, revealing a familiar setting: the sleek, modern kitchen of Lando’s Monaco apartment. The camera was already rolling, capturing a countertop neatly prepped with ingredients, and a few pots and pans waiting on the stove like soldiers at attention. Cooking stream? Unheard of.

Lando appeared on screen, a little out of focus as he fiddled with something just off-camera. He leaned down toward a mic and gave it a couple of taps.

“Can you hear me now?” he asked, eyes darting toward the chat as it exploded with responses. A few seconds passed before he nodded, satisfied. “Nice.”

From somewhere off-camera, a familiar voice chimed in. “You ready?”

“Mmhmm.” Lando stepped back into frame and clapped his hands together, “So—”

A sudden laugh burst from off-screen, stopping him mid-sentence. He turned his head, smirking.

“What?”

Y/N finally stepped into view, her expression amused. She wore one of his Quadrant hoodies, her hair pulled back casually, looking completely at home. “You and Max always do that,” she teased.

“Do what?” he chuckled, reaching out to tug her gently closer until she was tucked beside him, shoulder brushing his.

“The clapping,” she said, gesturing at him with a knowing smile. “Every time you guys film something, you both do that little clap before talking. It’s like a reflex or something.”

Lando rolled his eyes with an exaggerated sigh. “Whatever, hater…”

He turned back to the camera, hands twitching like he was going to clap again. “Anyways, so—” He froze, caught himself mid-motion, and looked right at her. “...Fuck. I really do it, huh?”

Y/N doubled over laughing, lightly shoving him. “I told you! It’s your little pre-performance ritual.”

Lando laughed too, bumping her gently with his hip. “I feel attacked in my own kitchen.”

“You should,” she grinned. “Consider this an intervention.”

“Alright, alright,” Lando grinned, finally pulling it together. “No more claps. Let’s cook before I develop another weird habit.”

“Tell them what we’re doing,” Y/N says, grabbing two aprons from the counter and tossing one to Lando.

“Right!” he nods, slipping the apron over his head. “We’re making dinner. From scratch.”

“That’s right,” she grins, stepping behind him to tie his apron strings neatly at the back. “Steak and mashed potatoes today, quick and easy.”

Lando scans the kitchen setup with a slightly exaggerated frown, lips pressed together as he surveys the ingredients. Y/N catches the look and raises a brow.

“What’s wrong?”

He exhales a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m actually kind of nervous. Chat’s gonna see how rubbish I am at this.”

Y/N’s face softens as he gently spins her around to tie her apron too, the motion slow and familiar. She glances over her shoulder with a small smile. “That’s why I’m here, bub. We’ll work as a team.”

He gives her a playful pat on the bum, earning a surprised little laugh as he says, “Alright, boss. What’s first?”

Y/N grabs a bowl of unpeeled potatoes and hands it off to him along with a peeler. “Wash them, peel them, cut them into quarters.”

Lando blinks. “Huh?”

She stifles a laugh. “Wash. Peel. Cut. Into quarters,” she repeats with a teasing squeeze to his arm, before turning toward the fridge.

He looks down at the potatoes, then to chat, then back at the potatoes, sighing as he walks to the sink. “Do I like... scrub them or something?” he calls over his shoulder.

“No need,” she answers, rinsing some herbs at the counter. “We’re peeling them anyway.”

And so the chaos begins.

Y/N gets to work seasoning the steaks and prepping the herb butter, while Lando stands at the sink, holding a potato like it might explode. He finally begins peeling, very slowly, occasionally pausing to read the chat.

“Hey! I’m not slow!” he says, pointing the peeler accusingly at the camera, eyes squinting playfully. “I’m just taking my time.”

From behind him, Y/N chuckles, drying her hands. “You are doing it quite slow, my love.”

She walks over with a chopping board and a knife in hand, peeking into the bowl beside him. “I’ve already seasoned the meat, made the herb butter, and cleaned up. And you—” she pauses, looking over at his bowl of potatoes “—have peeled exactly… three potatoes.”

Lando gasps like she’s just betrayed him on live television. “I think I'm doing a mega job.”

She laughs, nudging him gently with her hip as she starts chopping the peeled ones. "And I'm so proud of you"

The chat explodes in laughter, messages flying in:

“3 potatoes in 20 minutes 💀” “Y/N carrying as usual” “He’s trying his best leave him alone 😭”

Y/N takes over the potato duties without much of a fight, Lando had peeled just enough for her to work with. She dumps the chunks into a pot of water and sets it to boil, giving it a quick stir before turning to check on her newly assigned sous-chef.

Lando is now standing in front of the stove like he’s guarding a priceless artifact. The pan on the burner is still very much empty, not even a drop of oil or butter in sight, but he’s watching it with intense focus.

“You do realize the pan’s still empty, right?” Y/N asks, sliding up beside him, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised.

Without taking his eyes off the pan, Lando scoffs, “I’m aware, yes.”

She bites back a grin. “And you’re watching it like a hawk because…?”

“I’m waiting for it to heat up enough,” he replies, dead serious, hovering his hand just above the surface with surgical precision. “You said it has to be hot. Like hot hot.”

Y/N stares at him for a second, then laughs. “Okay, fair, but you could at least put some oil in while you’re doing your little steak meditation.”

Lando lets out a dramatic sigh like she’s asking him to do the impossible, but obliges, grabbing the olive oil and drizzling it into the pan with flair. “There. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” she deadpans. “Now wait til it's smoking a bit.”

He narrows his eyes at the pan, nodding slowly. “Got it.”

From the corner of the room, her phone buzzes with notifications. Chat is thriving.

“Lando’s steak arc begins” “This man is doing yoga with a frying pan” “Protect the pan at all costs”

Lando peeks over her shoulder and squints. “I feel very attacked in this live stream.”

Y/N smirks. “Good. Means they care.”

Just then, the oil begins to ripple gently in the pan. She leans over, inspecting it.

“Alright, chef,” she says with a teasing salute. “You’re good to go.”

Lando straightens up dramatically, grabs the seasoned steak like it’s a sacred relic, and carefully lays it into the pan with a loud sizzle. He flinches slightly at the noise, glancing at her like, “Did I do that right?”

Y/N gives him a proud little nod. “That’s perfect.”

The satisfaction on Lando’s face is almost too much. He’s glowing like he just scored pole position.

“Yeah?” he says, biting his lip to hide the grin. “I mean… obviously.”

They both stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the stove, their expressions weirdly serious as they watched the steaks sizzle in the pan. The kitchen was quiet now, save for the soft bubbling from the potatoes and the satisfying sear of meat against hot oil.

Neither of them spoke. Just stood there. Staring.

Chat, however, was anything but silent.

“they’re both dissociating 😭” “brainrot live” “this is peak couple behaviour” “they’re literally the same person wtf”

Lando finally blinked out of it first. He glanced sideways and immediately burst into a quiet laugh, spotting the exact same zoned-out expression on Y/N’s face as she stared into the pan like it held the secrets of the universe.

She snapped out of it at the sound of his laugh, turning her head with a soft smile. “What?”

“You were giving me crap for staring at the pan,” he said, nudging her gently with his elbow. “You were literally dissociating watching the steak cook.”

Y/N blinked, then laughed, covering her face with one hand. “Oh my god. I was. I think the sizzle hypnotized me.”

Lando grinned, bumping her again. “Welcome to my world.”

She leaned her head briefly against his shoulder, still smiling. “Brain empty. Just meat noises.”

Chat was in shambles.

“JUST MEAT NOISES” “meat trance 🧠✨” “someone screenshot this, I need it framed”

Not much time had passed, and now the two stood on opposite ends of the kitchen island, heads down, tongues slightly poking out in focus as they carefully plated their food.

Each had been assigned their own plate, it had somehow turned into a competition. And of course, they’d agreed that chat would vote on whose presentation was better.

“Stop hogging all the broccoli, baby!” Lando cried dramatically, pointing an accusing finger at her side of the counter. “I’ve got no garnish.”

Y/N scoffed, not even looking up as she arranged a small floret just so. “You knob, we’ve literally both got five each!” she exclaimed, gesturing wildly to her plate like she was presenting evidence in court.

Lando leaned over with a squint. “Yeah, but you’ve got all the pretty pieces!”

She froze mid-mash, then turned to look at him, face twisted in utter disbelief. “They’re all broccoli, you muppet! What do you mean ‘pretty pieces’?!”

“The round ones!” Lando argued back, now clutching his plate like it was his child. “Yours are, like… cuter!”

“I cannot believe we’re arguing about broccoli aesthetics,” she muttered, laughing as she snatched one off his plate and swapped it with hers. “There. Happy?”

He paused, inspecting the trade like a jewel dealer. “...Yeah, that’s fair.”

Lando glanced over at his plate, then at hers. His brow furrowed.

“How’d you do that?” he asked, confused, staring like her food was some sort of black magic.

Y/N didn’t even look up, too focused on delicately arranging the slices of steak just right on her plate. “What now?”

“Your mash…” he said, drifting over behind her to peer over her shoulder. “How’d you make it look like that?”

She let out a loud, surprised laugh, trying to push him away with one arm. “Lando! We literally have the same stuff. Go back to your side!”

“But yours is nicer!” he whined, barely budging under her efforts, grinning down at her like a menace.

“Then make yours nicer” she shot back, trying to block his view with her body.

Lando laughed, finally backing off with a shake of his head. He grabbed a clean spoon and stood over his plate like he was defusing a bomb. Slowly, carefully, he swiped it through his mashed potatoes in a swooping motion, eyes narrowed in focus.

“Done!” Y/N announced triumphantly, tossing her hands in the air. She wiped her hands on her apron and sauntered over to Lando’s side with a mischievous grin.

“Hey!” Lando yelped, quickly shifting to block her path with his hip like a human kitchen gate. “Back to your side!”

“I just wanna peek!” she laughed, trying to sneak a look over his shoulder.

Without warning, Lando wrapped one arm around her waist, effortlessly scooping her up like she weighed nothing. Y/N squealed in surprise as he spun her around and plopped her down directly in front of the camera.

“Stay there,” he said, grinning as he planted a soft kiss on the top of her head. “Talk to chat while I finish my masterpiece.”

Y/N blinked at the camera, momentarily stunned, before bursting into laughter. “This man really picked me up like I was a rogue toddler.”

Lando finally walked over to show his plate toward the camera with a dramatic spin. “Voilà. Chef Norris’s Signature Steak Surprise.”

Y/N tilted her head, pretending to inspect. “Surprise being you didn’t burn it?” She teases as she holds up her own plate to show the camera

“Oi,” he huffed, nudging her gently with his hip again. “Time for the votes. Chat—choose wisely.”

He moved to stand beside her as the poll popped up on screen: Whose plate wins? 🍽 🧡 Lando’s Luxurious Lunch 💚 Y/N’s Superior Steak Situation

The votes flew in fast.

“I swear, if you win because of the mash swirl…” Y/N muttered, squinting at the poll.

Lando grinned. “That’s called technique, love.”

The timer ticked down.

Y/N – 62% Lando – 38%

“YESSS,” she cheered, throwing her arms up again. “Justice for the broccoli.”

Lando slumped against the counter dramatically. “This is rigged. I demand a recount.”

Y/N leaned in, pecking his cheek. “Better luck next dinner, chef.”

------------------------------------------------------

Think fast

Being in a relationship with Y/N meant Lando had to stay constantly on his toes. In the early days, her endless pranks always managed to catch him off guard, whether it was the latest viral trend or some chaotic idea she came up with on a whim, he never stood a chance. These days, though, he liked to think he’d gotten better at spotting the signs, or at least bracing himself for whatever mischief she had up her sleeve.

“It’s not going to work.”

Y/N and Max Fewtrell strolled into the McLaren hospitality, phone in hand streaming live on twitch, making their way toward the back where Lando was supposed to meet them. He’d left the hotel a couple hours earlier for back-to-back meetings before free practice.

“When has he not fallen for one of your pranks?” Max asked, sipping his coffee with a knowing grin. “Just try it. Chat's going to love it”

Y/N shook her head, already laughing at the thought of Lando calling her out before she even made a move.

“The last two times, he shut me down before I even got the chance,” she said with a shrug. “He’s learning.”

They found an empty table tucked away from the crowd and sat down to wait. Max, ever the instigator, kept nudging her to try one of the latest pranks he’d seen trending on his feed, desperate for a dose of chaos and the chance to see his best friend publicly flustered.

The two sat like that for a while, answering a few questions every now and then. Before long, Lando’s voice rang out behind them.

“Oi! There you two are!”

Y/N glanced over her shoulder and grinned, standing up with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“You want your fix? Watch this,” she whispered to Max, stepping aside from the table just as Lando approached.

“Sorry, meeting ran long,” Lando said, pulling off his cap and tossing it onto the table.

Y/N didn’t miss a beat. “Think fast! I’m a random girl!”

Without warning, she lunged at him—arms outstretched, lips puckered dramatically, ready to play her role to perfection.

Lando’s reflexes kicked in fast. “Whoa!” he said, holding his palm out and catching her right in the forehead, effectively stopping her mid-charge.

“I’m happily taken, thank you very much,” he deadpanned, pushing her away gently but firmly, then wiped his hand on his pants with exaggerated disgust. “Please maintain a safe distance, stranger.”

Max burst out laughing while Y/N nodded proudly, even slow clapping.

“Mate,” Max wheezed through his laughter, practically spilling his coffee, “you’re like a trained puppy!”

“Proud of you, babe,” Y/N grinned, leaning in to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Hey!” Lando ducked away dramatically, throwing his hands up. “Lady! Please… I just told you—I have a beautiful girlfriend!”

Y/N smacked his arm, laughing. “You muppet.”

Lando chuckled, finally letting his act drop as he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in. “Hello, my love. Trying to entertain Max and chat again, I see?”

“Someone’s gotta give them content,” she teased, and Max just shook his head, still grinning, proud to have captured the whole thing.

------------------------------------------------------

Just cause

Lando had been on Twitch with Max for hours now, deep in a chaotic stream full of banter, games, and far too much shouting. Y/N had been missing in action the whole time, curled up in bed for a nap when the boys started, and clearly forgotten amidst the noise.

When she finally stirred awake, the first thing she heard was Lando’s muffled shouting through the walls. Headphones on, game volume cranked, completely unaware of how loud he was being. With a sleepy smile, she grabbed her phone and hopped onto Twitch, curiosity getting the best of her.

Instead of Lando’s stream, she tapped into Max’s—knowing full well she’d get the better view and more unfiltered commentary.

“Hi Maxie” she typed, the grin already growing on her face.

“Woah, is that Y/N?” Max’s voice rang out, loud and clear through Lando’s headset.

Lando glanced over his shoulder instinctively. “She’s asleep in the room, mate.”

Max let out a laugh. “No, mate—she just said hi in my chat. Hi Y/N!”

Lando’s brows lifted in surprise, just as the sound of her soft footsteps approached from behind. Moments later, she was there—turning his chair slightly before straddling his lap without a word, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“Oh—” Lando blinked, arms instinctively wrapping around her waist, one hand settling gently on her back. “Hi, baby. What’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer—just shook her head and nuzzled into his neck, clearly not in distress, just craving closeness.

The chat exploded.

“OMG STOP” “They’re so cute I’m gonna cry” “IM SO SINGLE” “Watch Max clown them in 3...2...1…”

“Ewww! Get a room, you two!” Max called out through his mic, laughing.

“Shut up, Max,” Lando chuckled, slipping off one side of his headset and muting his mic. He leaned back slightly, guiding her face away from his neck so he could see her.

“Baby… hey,” he said softly, concern laced through his voice as his arms held her close. “You alright, my love?”

She smiled gently, still sleepy-eyed. “Hi.”

“Well, hello,” Lando chuckled, amused by the unexpected visit. He reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb brushing her cheek. “What’s wrong? You don’t usually do this… not that I mind—I quite like it, actually.”

She only shook her head, letting out a quiet sigh as she settled her head back on his shoulder, her arms loosely wrapped around his neck.

Lando’s smile faded into a soft frown, now slightly worried. “You feeling okay? Are you sick?” His hand instinctively moved to her forehead, checking her temperature.

She laughed, lifting her head to meet his eyes. “I’m okay, silly. I just… missed you.”

That one sentence made something warm bloom in his chest. He smirked, his hands now tracing slow circles on her back, already forgetting the stream still running in the background.

“Yeah?”

She nodded, now suddenly a little bashful under his gaze.

“I can end the stream,” he offered gently. “We can hang out in the room, maybe order some food and watch a movie?”

She shook her head. “Maybe later? Go finish your game… I’ll just stay here for a bit.”

Lando smiled softly and guided her head back down to his shoulder, pressing a tender kiss to the side of her head. “Alright, my love. One more hour—then I’m all yours.”

He leaned forward and unmuted his mic, the grin already spreading on his face. “Sorry—boyfriend duties,” he said proudly, as Max groaned dramatically and the chat predictably exploded again.

“bf of the year!” “THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER 😭” “MAX IS GONNA LOSE HIS MIND I LOVE THIS” “THE BAR IS ON THE FLOOR AND LANDO JUST LAUNCHED OVER IT”

------------------------------------------------------

Who knows me best?

The stream kicked off with the usual trio, but this time, they had a small whiteboard in hand. Lando sat center, eyes scanning his computer as he tweaked his Twitch setup.

“Ready?” he asked, giving his hair a final fluff before leaning back in his chair.

Max and Y/N finally set their phones aside, both nodding in sync with soft hums of agreement.

"So..." Lando clapped his hands to mark the start of the stream, prompting a chuckle from Y/N

“See? Told you he does that too,” Y/N said, leaning forward to look at Max.

Max grinned. “P said the exact same thing to me.”

“The clapping again?” Lando groaned, rubbing his cheek in mock frustration. “I swear I’ve been trying to stop. Someone tie me down already.”

“Y/N can do that tonight—like you two always do,” Max said with a cheeky smirk. “Right!” He punctuated the joke with a clap, then winced. “Ah, fuck. I did it too.”

That sent all three of them into a fit of laughter.

“We’re hopeless, mate,” Lando wheezed between laughs. “Alright, chat! We’re here for the ‘Best Friend vs. Girlfriend’ challenge—who knows me best?” He turned to Y/N with a playful look. “Or as she likes to call it…”

“‘Girlfriend versus Boyfriend,’” Y/N said, nodding seriously at the camera. “Because Max is my boyfriend’s boyfriend.”

“Oh, piss off,” Max laughed, shaking his head.

"I've started a poll, so you guys an vote on who you think will win" Lando says, handing each of them their own markers

“First question!” Lando grins, glancing between the two. “When and where was my Formula 1 debut?”

Max and Y/N immediately start scribbling on their boards, Lando casually jotting down his own answer with that signature smug smile.

Once they’re both done, Lando nods toward Max. “Alright, Max. You go first.”

Max flips his board with confidence. “2019, Australian Grand Prix.”

Lando chuckles and gives him a fist bump, flipping his board, revealing the same answer. “Point for Max.”

He turns to Y/N, who’s already rolling her eyes. “You got it wrong, didn’t you?”

“On the contrary,” Y/N says, flipping her board around with flair.

Lando and Max burst out laughing before she’s even finished reading.

“March 16, 2019. Australian Grand Prix. 3 PM local time,” she recites matter-of-factly, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re fucking joking,” Max wheezes, clutching his stomach. “You gave her the questions beforehand, didn’t you?!” He shoots Lando an accusatory look.

“What?! No! I swear I didn’t!” Lando throws his hands up, still laughing.

“I’m just that good of a girlfriend,” Y/N shrugs, casually erasing her board and adding a neat little mark in the corner for the point she just earned.

“We weren’t even dating yet, baby,” Lando teases, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Yeah, but she definitely had a massive crush on you already,” Max adds with a smirk, wiping off his own board "Remember when you begged me to not tell him when I found out and you—"

"—Okay! That's enough from you Maxiepoo," she says clapping her hands trying to speed up the process "move on come on keep them coming!"

Lando chuckles and nods, reading another question off his phone, “Next one. What’s my worst habit?”

Both Max and Y/N immediately start writing without hesitation, clearly prepared.

Lando watches them suspiciously. “Why are you both so fast with that?”

Max flips his board first: “Biting his nails”

“Okay wow—” Lando starts.

But Y/N’s already turning hers around: “Saying ‘I’m fine’ when he’s clearly spiraling.” She underlines it twice for dramatic effect.

Lando throws his head back laughing. “Well fuck, I feel attacked.”

“You should,” Max says. “We’ve had an intervention, like, twice.”

“You ignored both,” Y/N adds, casually ticking her board again.

Lando just shakes his head. “You guys are supposed to be on my team.”

“No,” they say in unison. “We’re on the truth’s team.”

Chat? Loving it

"NOT THEM TEAMING UP ON LANDO" "Max and Y/N are so competitive with it" "lol i think they're playing who loves Lando more?" ------------------------------------------------

Mini Lando

It had been a two-week break between races, and Lando was soaking it all in, some sun, some sleep, and a whole lot of gaming with the boys back in Monaco.

Today was no different, Lando and Max were live on Twitch, lazily stacked in their usual setup, bantering, gaming, and occasionally getting completely distracted by chat. But there was one thing everyone in the comments couldn't stop talking about.

The clip had already gone semi-viral on F1 Twitter: Twitch stream, Max mid-sentence, Lando walking off-screen, only to pop back into frame quietly leaning over Y/N on the bean bag, hand resting softly on her stomach, the other brushing her hair away like some kind of soft boyfriend fever dream. That, paired with Y/N’s mysterious absence from this stream?

Yeah. The fanbase had collectively lost its mind.

“Where’s Y/N?” Lando reads aloud, scoffing with a half-smile as he leans back in his chair.

Max snickers but doesn't look up from his screen. “Mate, you’ve unleashed the internet. That clip’s everywhere.”

Lando chuckles. “I was literally just saying hi.”

“Sure,” Max says, dragging it out like he’s stirring something dangerous. “Saying hi with your hand on her stomach and playing with her hair like it’s a Nicholas Sparks movie.”

Lando defends, laughing now. “I was being a good boyfriend”

Chat explodes — everything from “we know what tired means” to “BABY LANDOOOOO??”

Lando shakes his head, clearly fed up with the stream chat spiraling out of control. With a sigh, he pulls out his phone and dials Y/N, holding it up on speaker for dramatic effect.

Almost instantly, her voice comes through, dry and familiar “You do know I’m in the bedroom, right?”

“Hi, my love,” Lando says sweetly, ignoring Max’s exaggerated eye roll. “Come here for a sec?”

Max doesn't miss a beat. “The tone shift is insane. Bro went from gamer rage to Shakespearean boyfriend in 0.2 seconds, someone study that.”

Lando reaches over and smacks his arm, earning a loud “Oi!” from Max.

“Lan,” Y/N groans on the other end, “I look like shit right now.”

“You always look beautiful, my love,” Lando says, dramatically and unapologetically simping. “Chat’s looking for you. And, apparently… baby Norris too.”

“Oh my Gosh,” she mutters, but the sound of movement comes through anyway.

Not a minute later, Y/N appears behind Lando’s chair, wrapped in a hoodie that definitely wasn't hers, her hair in a mess of clips and chaos. She leans down, placing a soft kiss to the top of Lando’s head.

“You called?” she murmurs.

Lando looks up at her like she hung the moon. “Hello, gorgeous.”

Max turns back around, still grinning. “Everyone thinks baby Norris is on the way.”

Y/N snorts. “We can’t even agree on getting a pet, and you guys think we’re having a child?”

Chat loses it. Lando’s smile widens as he reaches up and laces his fingers through hers.

“So that’s a no?” Max deadpans.

“That’s a hell no,” she says, laughing. “Not until he agrees to get a dog”

“Here we go again,” Lando groans, burying his face in her hand.

“I was just on my period, guys. Calm your T’s,” Y/N says casually, walking further into frame like she didn’t just drop a bomb on the chat.

Max chokes on his drink. “Okay then—!”

Lando just shrugs, grinning. “You wanted answers.”

Without missing a beat, Y/N walks over to the corner of the room and returns with a small basket cradled in her arms.

“Anyway,” she continues, unfazed by the hysteria in the comments, “look at the care package Lando got me.”

She plops down next to him and starts pulling items out like she’s hosting an unboxing video: a ridiculous amount of chocolates, sour gummies, a box of painkillers, a face mask, heating patches, and even a tiny plush dinosaur.

“For emotional support,” Lando adds, pointing at the dinosaur. "Tell everyone what you named him, baby"

“His name's Dino Ricciardo” Y/N says, nudging Lando with her shoulder. “He was just being a doting boyfriend, is all.”

Chat absolutely explodes — messages flooding “I’m crying real tears, this is PEAK boyfriend behavior”“CAN WE CLONE HIM?”“Dino Ricciardo world champ 2025”“Why am I single 😭”

Lando’s just grinning like an idiot while Max shakes his head. “Yeah, alright, you win. Everyone else can go home.”

------------------------------------------------------------

Cat gate

Lando and Max were lounging side by side in his gaming room, mid-break between rounds of Counter-Strike, when Lando’s phone lit up on the desk.

“Ooh, look who’s calling, chat,” he grinned, picking it up and flashing the screen toward the camera, a photo of Y/N, cheeks squished against his in a selfie. The chat instantly flooded with heart emojis.

“Probably misses me already,” he added smugly, answering with a teasing, “Hello, baby.”

“Yuck,” Max groaned beside him, visibly cringing as he read the chat explode with reactions to Lando’s soft tone. “Hate it here.”

“Hey, so, um… don’t be mad,” Y/N’s voice came through, the slightest bit hesitant.

Lando’s brows furrowed slightly. “That’s never a good start. What’s wrong, my love? You still out with Lily and Alex?”

“Yeah! We had such a good time—we played a little golf, got some lunch…” she said casually, but there was background noise now: distant music, a bit of wind, someone talking.

Lando glanced at Max, curious. “Sounds fun. You on your way back?”

“Almost home, yes. But okay, listen… there’s just this tiny thing.”

“Wait—" Lando cut in, scandalized. "You played golf without me? I’m actually offended.”

“Lan…”

“Traitor,” Max muttered, shaking his head at her through the mic. “She always says no when we ask.”

“Because Lily actually knows what she’s doing!” Y/N snapped back playfully, then sighed. “Anyway, that’s not the point—”

“You told him about the cat yet?” another voice chimed faintly in the background—Alex Albon, unmistakably.

Lando’s expression froze. “Cat? Did Alex just say cat? What cat?!”

Y/N laughed nervously, “Okay...you know what? We’ll talk about it later. We’re almost home. Ten minutes. Love you, bye!”

“Wait—we?” Lando sat up straighter, suddenly suspicious. “Baby, who’s we? Hello??”

The call had already ended.

Max burst out laughing. “Oh, you’re in trouble.”

Lando stared at the screen like it betrayed him. “What cat? Who is we?! Did she mean her and the cat?!”

Not long later, a soft knock echoed through the room.

Lando glanced at the door just as it creaked open, revealing Y/N’s head peeking in, her eyes wide with mischief and a grin tugging at her lips.

Max immediately leaned forward, laughing. “Oh, she’s definitely up to something. That’s the face of someone who’s just done something incredibly stupid… or incredibly amazing.”

Lando turned in his chair to face her, smiling despite himself. “Come in, baby. The stream’s on.”

She stepped fully into the room, and in her arms, curled up like a sleepy little angel, was a kitten. A tiny, soft-furred ball of fluff, blinking slowly and completely unfazed by the chaos around it.

“Before you say anything,” Y/N started quickly.

“Oh my god,” Max said, whipping his head toward Lando, his eyes wide with glee.

Lando just stared. “Baby… you didn’t.”

“We can’t. We’re barely even home,” he added, voice soft but edged with disbelief.

“I know,” she rushed out, walking toward him and gently placing the kitten in his lap. “Technically, she’s still Alex’s. One of their cats had a litter and I said we could foster one for a bit.”

Lando let out a breath as the kitten instantly curled into him, purring like a tiny engine. His hand instinctively began to stroke the soft fur.

“How am I even meant to carry a cat?” he muttered, spinning his chair a little to show the stream.

“Mate… what do you mean? You’re literally holding it,” Max deadpanned, watching in disbelief.

“So?” Y/N asked, bouncing slightly on her toes. “Can we keep her—for now? Alex said if you say no, that’s totally fine. We’ve got three months to decide.”

Lando looked up at her, caught somewhere between overwhelmed and completely smitten. “But I thought you wanted a dog?”

“I do!” she said, nodding eagerly. “But now they can be friends.”

Lando turned to Max for backup, but Max just shrugged. “Leave me out of this one, mate.”

Lando’s eyes flicked back to Y/N, a grin breaking across his face despite the chaos. He looked down at the kitten, now snoozing peacefully in his lap.

“What are we naming her?”

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