#interception explained

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

Text:

What is interoception?

Interoception is the sense that allows us to notice internal body signals like a growling stomach, racing heart, tense muscles or full bladder. When we notice these body signals our brain uses them as clues to our emotions. Interoception helps us feel many important emotions including: hunger, fullness, thirst, pain, illness, body temperature, sleepiness, need for bathroom, anger, anxiety, distraction, focus, calm, boredom, sadness.

Differences in interoception are very common and can lead to challenges in identifying exactly how one feels. Common signs of interoception differences can include difficulty with one or more of the following: recognizing when hungry, full or thirsty; toilet training (daytime and/or night time); identifying when sleepy; overly sensitive or not sensitive enough to pain; pinpointing symptoms of illness; identifying emotions in self; identifying emotions in others; recognizing building signs of distress (before a meltdown); independently using coping strategies during times of distress.

Can interoception be improved?

The good news is YES! Research shows that interoception can be improved. There are many easy strategies that can be incorporated into your daily routines that can improve your child's interoception.

Strategies:

(1) Use 'Interoception talk': Label the way your various body parts feel during daily activities (e.g. 'My hand feels warm when you hold it. My cheek feels wet when you kiss it. My breathing feels fast when I run with you.')

(2) Encourage your child's 'Interoception Attention': Encourage your child to notice how various body parts feel during daily activities (e.g. 'How do your hands feel when you are holding a glass of ice water? How do your eyes feel at bedtime? Look at the goosebumps on your skin. Put your hand on your chest and feel your heart beating fast.')

A free, downloadable version of this infographic and other resources can be found here: www.kelly-mahler.com/printable-resources/

Source will be below

I CAN Network Ltd

[borealwrites]

Whenever there was a storm, Iruka remembers his parents hiding him away. The barrier seals that cover his windows dull the thunder into a low rumble, like how he remembers the sea, and all he can see through the glass is an inky darkness. Those seals are the first ones they teach him, and they tell him to always have them on hand.

When he’s a little older, he asks why he can’t watch the storm like his friends. They tell him that around when he was born, there was a terrible storm that lasted for weeks. In desperation, his grandfather prayed to the storm gods, offering up his newly born grandson as a sacrifice if they would make them stop. And the storms stopped. Unwilling to let such a fate befall their child, his parents took him and fled to Konoha.

Iruka isn’t sure he believes in storm gods, but he loves his parents. Then the kyuubi comes, and suddenly gods don’t seem so fake anymore. So he covers his room at the orphanage and then his apartment with wards, and bites back the defensiveness when Mizuki makes fun of him. It isn’t the thunder and lightning he’s afraid of, it’s what they could bring.

When storms are coming, he can feel his skin crawl, like someone is watching him. Iruka strengthens the wards on his apartment and doesn’t take missions, instead hiding away in the Hokage Tower, where nobody can touch him. Some storms make it feel like someone if pounding at his barriers. On those nights he tucks himself into the corner of his apartment, as far from his windows as he can, and huddles under a blanket, wishing he weren’t so alone.

But Iruka cannot outrun and avoid storms forever. There’s a stillness in the air when he’s assigned a mission with Hatake Kakashi that he cannot refuse. Overhead the clouds are full and heavy with rain, and there’s a tinge of ozone that sets Iruka’s nerves on edge. Thunder rumbles in the distant sky when they find the enemy’s trail, and the clouds burst upon first clash.

It takes every bit of Iruka’s skill to keep from being overwhelmed. The enemy is too strong, and his heart too soft. All the warnings his parents repeated tug at him, and he’s too distracted.

Lightning strikes the tree that Iruka’s opponent is crouched in, close enough he can feel the heat. The air is saturated with enough chakra that Iruka feels drunk off it, even as it makes his hair stand on end. Blinking to clear the searing light from his eyes, Iruka chokes on a gasp.

Before him stands Kakashi, his arm buried in the chest of the now very crispy enemy ninja, sparks of electricity arcing almost lazily across his body. With a flick of his wrist Kakashi’s arm is free, and he glares down at the corpse. Something feels wrong, and while Iruka’s common sense screams at him to move, he feels rooted to the spot. Two eyes, one storm cloud grey and the other heat lightning red, lock onto his.

Kakashi’s hand, the one that had just killed a man, cups Iruka’s cheek. Once, while experimenting with seals, Iruka had shocked himself with a raiton based seal. It had hurt, and left his arm numb for two days. The merest brush of Kakashi’s fingers brings the same feelings for half a second before subsiding into a strange tingling sensation.

“I can finally touch you, my Iruka, my bride,” Kakashi’s voice was a low growl, an almost predatory sound that made Iruka jerk back. As soon as he broke contact with Kakashi, it seemed like all of Iruka’s strength left him. Like a puppet with cut strings he collapsed, and was only saved by Kakashi gathering him into his arms.

“Rest, Iruka. I’ll take care of everything else,” Kakashi cooed, and Iruka found himself helpless to resist. His last thought before he sank into unconsciousness was if his parents would be disappointed he didn’t fight harder.

This can now be found, in an expanded version, on Ao3

[idonthaveacontract]

yaknow what needs to happen is we need to get the succession crowd watching mad men

they don't want to watch it. It's an unexplained natural phenomenon

[moths-in-a-coat]

i’m like still in my ongoing bad mood (due to the possible cancer and the fact that winter victimizes me; welcome back to keeping up with the moths) so i feel like i’m just being mean sometimes and having no patience a lot of times

anyways, there’s this girl in my class, whom, no matter how many times i tell her, she still doesn’t understand that when one of our classmates is talking about a lab she did on a day we don’t have fucking class, that it’s not referring to this class, and we don’t suddenly and magically have a lab on a day we don’t meet for this class

like granted this girl isn’t a native english speaker, but also she’s been speaker english for over a decade

i’m also just really frustrated with my self recently because i feel like i have no control over my emotions. i have spent a lot of time in therapy learning how to control my actions in face of being near constantly irritable though, but it’s exhausting constantly having to check how i’m outwardly behaving to ensure i’m not being a fucking dickwad

honestly, i probably wouldn’t be as annoyed with the situation if one of my biggest pet peeves wasn’t having to explain or say something multiple times

[melancholyprince]

Northern Splendor by Kim Norlien, Buffalo, 1000 pieces (998, missing 2 pieces)

[blood-loving-leech]

my favorite thing abt college is that unlike primary education i have control over my own information which means i have the ability to put my preferred name into the online system and it will print it out on teachers rosters

gold star for college inclusivity

[invoncible]

Hi I’m a big fan of your fics ! Love how you wrote the characters! Would it be ok if I request Mark (and the mark various if possible please if not no worries ^^) meeting OG female Tamaranean Reader please 🙏

MARK GRAYSON meeting STARFIRE ! fem! reader ✧˚.

— thank u for ur request !! i'm just gonna do mark for now if that's okay. i loooooove starfire she's so iconic ugh throwback to 2003 teen titans !!

"something's approaching our atmosphere. fast." cecil informed mark over his earpiece. "intercept it for me, will you?"

mark rolled his eyes at the director's casual tone for something potentially world-threatening (he hoped it wasn't another viltrumite) and shot up into the sky.

a ball of fire funneled around the alien crashing down. he floated right below your line of impact, shaking his arms and preparing for a big catch.

within seconds, you crashed into him. your forearms were bound in thick metal cuffs, leaving little room to maneuver or fight back. your flight path was thrown off, clumsily tumbling through the clouds.

"stop!" mark yelled over the rush of wind. "shit—hot, hot, hot!" he hissed to himself. who would have thought a meteoric projective burning up on entry would be hot?

you responded in some foreign language; it sounded like gibberish to mark.

"what the fuck did she say?" cecil droned in his ear and mark assumed he turned to his team, barking, "someone get a translation on that!"

you stared at him expectantly, grunting in annoyance when he didn't respond. your legs connected with his stomach, kicking him down to the earth. he fell like a rock in water and you zoomed off into the distance in a flash of green light.

"wait!" mark gasped, throwing off the rubble atop his chest and soaring after you. it was fairly easy to catch up to you, hindered by the cuffs on your hands. he grabbed your ankle the minute he got close enough, pulling you back to him. "we come in peace!"

"...this is our planet, mark." cecil deadpanned in his ear.

you whirled on him, pummeling him with the binds. he groaned, shaking his head of the ache. he spotted you descending to a random beach and followed you.

when you noticed him, you backed up defensively, watching him with a careful eye.

he tilted his head in confusion, holding his hands up in surrender. "woah. i'm not trying to hurt you; i wanna help."

your eyes searched his and he assumed you didn't understand him either. he approached you slowly, taking your arms in his hands. he stretched them towards him and raised his own, slicing through the metal in one swift motion.

the restraints fell into the sand below with a soft chfff. you rubbed your wrists, pleased but not completely relaxed.

mark grinned. "better, right?"

your eyes flickered to his, a frown on your lips as you hurriedly spoke to him in that foreign language.

he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "i'm sorry, i... don't understand."

you rolled your eyes and pulled him in, your thumb on his lips. you waited for him to pull away, tilting your head questioningly. he threw all rational thought in the garbage and leaned in. you kissed him roughly, like you had an agenda.

you pulled back and shoved him back. his ass hit the sand, spluttering as he looked up at you. "what the—"

you towered over him. "if you wish not to be destroyed, you will leave me alone."

mark remained there in the sand, head reeling. "um... so what was the kiss for?"

"kiss?"

"what we just did?" he followed up, rising to his feet and dusting the sand off his thighs and lap.

"my people learn languages through lip to lip contact." you explained hurriedly, already positioning yourself to take off once more.

"okay, hold on a second," he caught you before you managed to escape. "are you serious?"

you ripped your hand away from him, disgust etched on your features. "no, i am y/n."

mark laughed a little to himself. "still a bit rusty with the language, huh? um... how many tries would it take to get it right?"

you stared at him, unimpressed. "what are you meaning?"

all you could see was the cheeky, nervous smile on his lips despite the confident step he put forward. you grew amused by his antics, crossing your arms over your chest as you heard him out.

he scratched the back of his neck, his other arm resting on his hip. "i'm just saying, i'm here to help you adjust to earth. and i also took spanish in high school."

you raised an eyebrow, smiling.

"just saying." mark gave you a lopsided grin.

© invoncible

[pucksandpower]

Baby Girl Norris

Lando Norris x pediatrician!Reader

Summary: you know what you have to do — track down a world-famous Formula 1 driver, tell him about his newborn daughter, and maybe, if he’s willing, help him navigate single fatherhood — falling in love with their little family was not part of the plan … but doing so changes all your lives for the better

You take a deep breath as you enter the nursery, steeling yourself for the task ahead. As a pediatrician at the Princess Grace Hospital in Monaco, you’ve cared for thousands of babies over the years. But this case is different.

Baby Girl Norris, born just two hours ago, is now legally parentless after her mother signed away all parental rights. Hospital protocol demands you track down and notify the father before assuming guardianship. Easier said than done when the father is Formula 1 superstar Lando Norris.

Approaching the clear bassinet, you gaze down at the sleeping newborn. Wispy dark hair peeks out from under her pink cap. Ten tiny fingers curled into fists. She has no idea how complicated her life is about to become.

You flip through the chart again, verifying the details. Mother is French, here on a student visa. Refused to even look at the baby after a 27-hour labor, immediately signing away rights. Father listed as one Lando Norris of the United Kingdom.

You sigh, picking up the phone to dial the number listed. It rings five times before disconnecting. You try the landline for his Monaco residence with the same result. Probably outdated.

Time for plan B. You search the McLaren Racing website until you find a generic service line. Heart pounding, you dial.

“McLaren Technology Centre, this is Marie speaking.”

You take a breath. “Hello, I apologize for the strange request, but I need to reach Lando Norris as soon as possible. It’s … it’s regarding a private family matter.”

“I’m sorry, but Mr. Norris does not accept unsolicited communications. Have a nice-”

“Wait!” You interject. “Please, I am calling from Princess Grace Hospital in Monaco. We have a newborn baby girl here, and we believe Mr. Norris may be the father.”

Marie hesitates. “Hold please, I’ll transfer you.”

Your pulse quickens. This may actually work! But your hopes are quickly dashed.

“This is Andrew from McLaren Racing public relations. May I ask who I’m speaking with?” His tone is suspicious.

You explain again about the baby, her mother, and the situation.

Andrew sighs loudly. “I’m sure you understand we get calls like this constantly. Lando isn’t even in the hemisphere right now. I’m afraid we can’t help you.”

“No, wait, please!” But the line goes dead.

You frown, gears turning. The team must think you’re some obsessed fan or scammer. You’ll have to get creative.

Over the next two days, you call every related number you can find. Each time you’re met with more resistance. They must have flagged your information as a nuisance caller.

On the third day, you’re signing charts at the nurse’s station when a colleague walks by. “Did you hear? Lando Norris is coming to take a tour of the hospital next week. Some charity thing.”

Your eyes widen. This is it — your chance to intercept him in person!

You spend the next few days obsessing over what to say, how to convince him. Baby Girl Norris needs her father.

The big day arrives. Heart hammering, you lurk near the lobby, peering around the hallway corner as Lando walks in flanked by handlers. He looks exhausted but flashes his winning smile at the staff welcoming him.

You watch them start down the opposite hallway for the tour when you make your move. Rushing forward, you plant yourself firmly in his path.

“Mr. Norris! Sorry, I need just a minute of your time, it’s urgent-”

A member of his team immediately swoops in, pushing you back. “Ma’am, please. We kindly ask that you step aside.”

“No, wait!” You raise your voice over them. “Mr. Norris, my name is Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. I’m a pediatrician here. I’ve been trying to reach you for days now regarding your newborn daughter!”

The team looks exasperated, but Lando holds up a hand. “It’s okay, let her speak.” His eyes bore into yours warily.

You take a breath. “I know this sounds insane. But a baby girl was born here last week to a French student named Celeste Dubois. On the birth certificate, she named you as the father before signing away parental rights.”

You continue explaining the situation rapidly, watching Lando’s eyes widen in shock.

One of his handlers steps in. “You honestly expect us to believe this wild story? We’re on a timeline.” He tries to tug Lando along.

“No, it’s okay.” Lando stands firm, studying you intently. “What proof do you have of any of this?”

You hold his gaze. “I can show you the birth certificate, but a DNA test would confirm if you’re the father. It’s hospital policy to notify and provide the father an opportunity to assume custody.”

Lando chews his lip nervously. His team murmurs among themselves.

After a long pause, he speaks. “Even if this is some scam or mix-up, that poor child deserves to have answers. Please, lead the way for a test.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. Wordlessly, you turn and lead Lando to the lab. His team protests but he insists on following through.

In the lab, you supervise as the technician takes a simple cheek swab. “24 to 48 hours for results,” she confirms.

Lando nods, looking dazed. “Right. Okay. If she’s really mine, I want to step up. Just call me, yeah?” He extends his number on a slip of paper.

You smile and promise to be in touch. As he turns to leave, you feel swarmed with emotions. One major hurdle down, but nothing certain yet.

The next 48 hours pass at a snail’s pace. When the lab calls, your fingers shake as you unfold the results. Positive. A 99.99% match.

You pass along the news and arrange a meeting at the hospital. The press can’t know about this yet.

Approaching the secluded waiting room, you pause to observe Lando through the window. He paces nervously, running his hands through his hair again and again. His usual polished veneer is gone, replaced by a young man anxiously awaiting life-changing news. Your heart goes out to him.

Finally knocking, he whirls around as you enter. “Well? Is she really mine?”

You nod, holding out the results. He accepts them with unsteady hands.

“I’m sorry I ever doubted you,” he says quietly. “This is just ... a lot.”

“I understand. It’s a complicated situation. But you’re here now.” You offer an encouraging smile.

Lando takes a deep breath. “Can I meet her?”

You lead him to the nursery viewing room. He presses against the glass, eyes scanning until they settle on bassinet D7. His brows knit together.

“That’s her?” His voice wavers slightly.

You nod. “Would you like to go inside and hold her?”

He hesitates. “I don’t want to confuse or upset her.”

You gesture reassuringly. “Newborns seek warmth and a gentle touch. She’ll appreciate the contact.”

Looking uncertain, Lando follows you into the nursery. You lift the swaddled baby, carefully transferring her into Lando’s awkward embrace. He peers down at her, his expression unreadable.

“She’s so tiny ...” he murmurs. The newborn girl yawns, eyes still shut, snuggling instinctively into his chest.

Lando’s guarded facade finally cracks, eyes glistening. He adjusts his arms to cradle her more securely.

“Hi there,” he whispers. “I’m your ...” He trails off, not quite able to say it.

You touch his shoulder gently. “You’re her father. And she needs you.”

He nods, never breaking his gaze from the newborn’s face. “I’ll do right by her, I promise. Whatever it takes.”

Relief sweeps over you. While an arduous legal process awaits, this sweet child will finally have a real family.

As Lando rocks the baby gently, he suddenly laughs. “She’s a real beauty, isn’t she? Look at that hair. Thick and curly, just like her old man.”

You chuckle. “It appears so. Have you thought about a name?”

He hums contemplatively. “I’ve always been partial to Georgia. Gigi for short.”

“Georgia Norris,” you say with a smile. “It’s perfect.”

The new father beams down at his daughter. “Welcome to the world, little Gigi. I can’t wait to take you home.”

As you observe this tender moment, your heart swells for both father and daughter. With someone as loving and dedicated as Lando by her side, Gigi’s future looks bright indeed.

Watching them meet for the first time — seeing a family begin to blossom out of hardship and uncertainty — is the greatest reward of your job. As you quietly slip out to give them space, you can’t hold back a smile. Everything, after all, is turning out exactly as it should.

***

After spending over an hour bonding with his newborn daughter in the nursery, Lando reluctantly hands her back to the nurse for feeding time. He turns to you, smiling but still looking dazed.

“I can’t thank you enough, Y/N. Really. You’ve given me and Gigi a new start.”

You touch his arm warmly. “Of course. I’m so glad I could help connect you two. She’s absolutely beautiful.”

Lando grins proudly. “She really is perfect. I already love her so much, it’s mad. I just ...” His face falls slightly. “I don’t have the first clue how to actually take care of a baby. Let alone with my job, traveling all the time for races and training. What have I gotten myself into?”

He runs an anxious hand through his curls. Your heart goes out to him.

“Hey, it’s okay.” You gesture for him to follow you out to the waiting room for privacy.

Lando collapses onto the sofa, head in hands. “Sorry, I’m just now fully realizing what this means. A baby, she’s completely dependent on me! I don’t know the first thing about babies. I’m barely an adult myself!”

You sit beside him. “Lando, look at me.” He lifts his head reluctantly. You offer an encouraging smile.

“It’s normal to feel overwhelmed. But you stepped up when Gigi needed you most. That’s what matters. With some guidance, you’ll be an amazing father.”

He doesn’t look convinced. You continue gently, “Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll give you all the essential information for first-time parents. I’ll even set you up with parenting classes, and we have a support group-”

Lando groans loudly, letting his head fall back. You suppress a chuckle.

“Okay, forget classes for now. Just focus on learning the basics. Things like feeding, changing, bathing. Infant CPR. I’ll give you my cell to text with questions anytime. Day or night.”

You jot down your number and hand it to him. He nods, looking slightly encouraged.

“We’ll also get you connected with services that can assist first-time parents with supplies, nutrition consultants, and childcare options.”

His eyes widen again. “God, I haven’t even told my family yet! Or bought anything she’ll need!” He scrubs at his face anxiously.

You lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Breathe. Setbacks are expected. But you’ll get there.”

Lando takes a deep breath, regaining some composure. “You’re right. Sorry for the meltdown. I really appreciate you talking me down.”

“Don’t apologize. I’d be more concerned if you weren’t at all anxious about this huge life change.”

You smile warmly. “But you accepted your daughter unconditionally when it mattered most. Not every man in your position would do that. I know you’ll figure the rest out over time. It’s a process.”

He nods, starting to calm down. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. We’ll take it step by step.”

You spend the next hour walking Lando through all the basics — safe sleep, feeding schedules, hygiene, developmental milestones, and pediatrician visits. He takes vigorous notes on his phone, determination returning to his face.

“Clothes, blankets, nappies, bottles ...” He mumbles to himself as he types. “Maybe pick up a parenting book or two as well ...”

You grin, happy to see him growing more at ease and optimistic. When the nurse returns with a sleeping Gigi, Lando immediately takes her back into his arms.

“We’ve got this, little one,” he whispers to her. “I’ll give you the absolute best in life … starting with a nice new flat for us here in Monaco.” He looks back at you questioningly.

You nod in approval. “Giving Gigi a stable home should be your top priority.”

He smiles down at the baby, gently stroking her cheek. “Daddy will take good care of you. I promise.”

Your heart swells at the natural bond already forming between father and daughter. In this moment, any lingering doubts fade away. However difficult the road ahead, together they’ll be just fine.

After another hour visiting together, it’s time for Lando to head out. He’s clearly still anxious but also radiating love when he gazes at Gigi.

“Thank you again for everything,” he says sincerely, shaking your hand. “I’ll call my parents when I get home. Figure out how to break the news and beg for their help.”

He chuckles and you join in. “Don’t hesitate to text me anytime. About anything.”

Lando glances down at your scrawled cell number, then back up with a crooked grin. “Careful or I might take you up on the anything part.”

You blush slightly, waving him off. “Get out of here, you charmer. Go buy a crib and get some rest. Your life is about to get very busy.”

With a laugh, Lando walks backwards toward the exit, pointing finger guns at you. “Yes ma’am, Dr. Y/L/N. Catch you later.”

You stand shaking your head as he disappears from view. What an interesting patient case this has turned out to be.

Over the next several weeks, you and Lando text constantly. He sends cute videos and photos of Gigi along with his near-constant questions about her care. You don’t mind at all — you’re happy to guide him through this life transition.

True to his word, he quickly finds and furnishes a family-friendly luxury apartment in Monaco. He introduces Gigi to his stunned but excited parents via video call. He adjusts his training schedule to maximize time with her.

When his race travel resumes, he arranges for his parents or a local nanny to assist with Gigi full-time. Still, being apart takes an obvious toll on him.

The day before he’s set to fly to Australia for the first race of the season, Lando texts you a selfie looking forlorn, with Gigi snoozing on his chest.

Can you believe she’s already a month old? I don’t want to leave her!

You grin down at the photo. Gigi’s little rosebud lips are slightly parted as she sleeps. Lando’s staring at her adoringly despite the bags under his eyes.

I know it’s hard being away from her. But Gigi knows she has a father who loves her so much. Focus on making her proud out there!

You always know just what to say, doc. I’ll text you after the race!

You smile softly as you set down your phone. Over the past weeks, you’ve found yourself looking forward to Lando’s frequent messages and photos. He’s relieved when you reassure him he’s doing a great job as a new dad. And seeing Gigi thrive and grow under his doting care makes your heart fuller.

Professionally, your work is done now that Gigi and Lando are connected. But you can’t help feeling personally invested in this little family you helped create. You make a silent vow to always be there for them both, as long as they need you.

***

Weeks later, you’re jolted awake by your ringing cellphone. Bleary-eyed, you check the time: 2:37 am. Who could be calling at this hour?

You don’t recognize the number on your buzzing phone. But you answer anyway, just in case it’s an emergency.

“Hello?” You mumble into the phone.

“Y/N? Oh thank god!” The panicked voice on the other end makes you sit bolt upright.

Lando.

“Lando? What’s wrong?” Worry floods your system, instantly washing away any grogginess.

“It’s Georgia,” he cries. “She woke up crying and felt so hot. I took her temperature — it’s 39 degrees! I think she has a fever?”

You’re already throwing off your blankets, phone tucked against your shoulder. “Okay, stay calm. How is she acting otherwise?”

“She’s crying and really fussy. Won’t take her bottle. I don’t know what to do!” Lando sounds near tears himself.

“Shhh, deep breath,” you soothe. “Fever in babies this young is serious. You need to take her to emergency department right away.”

“Right, emergency, of course-” Lando rambles nervously.

“I’ll meet you there ASAP. Princess Grace Hospital, yes?”

“Yes, please hurry!” He ends the call abruptly. You scramble for clothes with adrenaline pounding.

In under ten minutes, you’re peeling out of your driveway towards the hospital. Even at this hour, Monaco’s streets remain congested. You drum your fingers anxiously on the steering wheel, praying Georgia will be okay.

Once you’ve parked, you race inside the ED doors. Your eyes scan the crowded waiting room until you spot Lando pacing in the corner, Georgia whimpering against his shoulder.

You rush over. “Lando!”

He turns, relief washing over his features. “Y/N, you came. Thank you.”

“Of course.” You squeeze his arm comfortingly before looking Georgia over with practiced eyes. Her cheeks are flushed, eyelids fluttering as she whines. Definitely not well.

Lando bounces lightly, trying to soothe her. “They told me it’s at least an hour wait. She’s getting worse though.” His eyes glisten with tears.

Your protective instincts flare, seeing them both so distraught. Striding to the check-in desk, you put on your most authoritative voice.

“Excuse me, I’m Dr. Y/L/N. I have an infant patient here who needs immediate evaluation.”

The nurse scans the packed waiting room. “I’m so sorry doctor, we’re doing our best. If you could just wait-”

You interrupt firmly. “This is a seven week old with a spiking fever. She requires urgent triage and treatment, not a waiting room. I must insist we be seen next.”

The nurse purses her lips, but can’t really argue with your reasoning. “Of course. I’ll let the charge nurse know to get you back immediately.”

You nod curtly before returning to Lando, who looks awed. “Blimey, remind me not to get on your bad side.”

The hint of a smile on his lips relieves you. Georgia’s still fussy as you both follow a nurse back moments later.

In an exam room, you help transfer the baby from Lando’s arms to the table. Her pitiful crying tugs at your heart.

Lando hovers anxiously as you take Georgia’s vitals and change her into a hospital gown. 39.1°C — higher than the concerning range for an infant. You frown in worry. Poor little love.

Soon the attending pediatrician arrives to assess her. You explain the situation from Lando’s frantic call to racing over. The doctor asks questions while examining Georgia’s ears, throat, and reflexes. Lando clutches your hand tightly the entire time.

After what feels like an eternity, the pediatrician steps back. “Given the fever with no apparent source, I’m concerned this could be a serious bacterial infection. We’ll run labs to check for things like meningitis. Start IV antibiotics and paracetamol to bring her fever down quickly.”

Lando pales, swaying slightly at the onslaught of medical terms. You slip an arm around him supportively.

“You’re saying she might have meningitis?” Lando chokes out.

The doctor holds up his hands. “It’s just one possibility. We’re not sure yet. The labs will tell us more.”

Lando buries his face in his hands. Your heart breaks seeing his shoulders shaking.

After the doctor departs to order tests, you guide Lando to sit down, keeping an arm around him. “Hey, try to breathe. Georgia needs her daddy calm and strong right now.”

Lando drags a hand over his wet eyes. “God, I’m trying. But she’s so little and sick. What if … what if it’s something serious?” His voice breaks again.

You turn him gently to face you, hands on his shoulders. “Listen to me. Whatever is going on, we will figure it out, okay? I’m right here with you both.”

He searches your face before nodding unsteadily. You draw him into a fierce hug.

“We’ve got this,” you whisper.

A nurse entering startles you apart. “Alright, time for labs.”

You both watch anxiously as she collects blood and other samples from a deeply unhappy Georgia. Her shrieking cries at the poking and prodding are harrowing. Lando has gone deathly pale.

Once finished, the nurse situates an IV line in Georgia’s tiny hand, securing it with tape and popping a pacifier in her mouth. Her eyelids droop, cries fading to soft whimpers as medication starts flowing.

You glance at Lando. “Why don’t you hold her again? Skin to skin contact will help soothe you both.”

Looking relieved by the suggestion, Lando strips off his shirt and takes Georgia, nestling her against his bare chest. You drape a blanket over them before rubbing his back comfortingly.

Georgia’s fussing settles as her father hums softly, eyes never leaving her face. The pure love between them makes your throat tighten.

Despite the uncertainty ahead, you know Georgia couldn’t be in better hands. And you silently vow to remain steadfast by their side, for whatever comes next.

Eventually Georgia drifts to sleep. The pediatrician returns shortly after with test results. “Good news. All the cultures are negative so far. With the antibiotics and paracetamol, her fever is already decreasing.”

You and Lando both sigh in relief.

“So no meningitis?” Lando asks hopefully.

The doctor shakes his head. “Doesn’t appear to be. We’ll repeat testing tomorrow, but likely just a minor bacterial infection. She’ll need to stay a few days for monitoring and fluids.”

Lando clutches Georgia closer. “Anything she needs. Thank you, doctor.”

Once you’re alone again, Lando gazes down at his sleeping daughter. “I was so scared,” he admits softly.

You nod, squeezing his shoulder. “I know. But she’s getting great care now. Try and rest — it’s been a long night.”

Lando glances at the empty cot along the wall. “Stay? Please? I … I don’t want to be alone right now.” His voice sounds so small and vulnerable.

Your chest tightens. “Of course.”

You help shift Lando and Georgia onto the little bed. She stirs slightly as you both get settled on either side of her.

Lando strokes Georgia’s cheek tenderly. “My brave girl. You’re going to be just fine.” Glancing up, his eyes meet yours. “Thank you, Y/N. For everything.”

You offer a tired smile, taking his hand. “That’s what I’m here for. Get some sleep.”

Exhaustion quickly pulls you under. But Lando’s hand remains wrapped firmly in yours until morning.

A strong bond has formed between the three of you. And you know that whatever the future brings, you’ll be facing it together.

***

A few weeks after the scare, you’re finishing paperwork at your desk when your cell rings. Lando’s name pops up, making you smile.

Since the hospitalization, you and Lando have fallen into a routine of near daily calls and texts about Georgia. You don’t mind at all — you adore hearing the latest antics and milestones of your special little patient. Not to mention Lando’s voice tends to brighten your day.

You answer warmly. “Lando! How are my favorite patients today?”

He chuckles. “Well, Georgia just mastered holding her head up while on her tummy. She’s getting so strong! But uh, that’s actually why I’m calling ...”

You detect the hesitancy in his tone. “What’s up?”

Lando sighs. “So McLaren just sprung a mandatory sponsorship meeting on me last minute. It’s in like an hour. I don’t have any childcare lined up though.”

You frown sympathetically. The demands of Lando’s career often collide with new parenthood. “Oh no. Can you reschedule or bring Georgia with you?”

“I tried, but it’s impossible to postpone. And definitely not an ideal environment for a baby,” he laments. “I don’t have any family nearby and my usual nanny said it’s too short notice.”

Your thoughts race, heart sinking at imagining his distress. “Hmm. Well, do you happen to have any trusted neighbors or friends there who could babysit?”

Lando makes a frustrated noise. “I’ve barely met my neighbors. And my mates, well, most are even less qualified than me for childcare. I’m stuck.” Defeat colors his tone.

You bite your lip, hesitating only a moment before saying gently, “Lando, I could come watch her.”

“What? Really?” He sounds stunned. “But isn’t it your day off?”

“It’s no problem, truly,” you insist. “I don’t live far. Be there in fifteen?”

“I-I don’t know what to say. You’re a lifesaver, Y/N. Thank you, thank you!” Lando gushes gratefully.

You smile, already grabbing your keys. “Anytime. See you soon!”

On the drive over, butterflies flutter in your stomach. You adore Georgia, of course. But something about visiting Lando’s home, being fully immersed in his world, feels monumentally intimate.

Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself that your priority is helping a friend in need.

You park outside Lando’s sleek modern condo building and take the elevator up after checking in with the concierge. Before you can even knock, the front door swings open.

“Y/N, thank god,” Lando sighs in relief. He looks unfairly attractive despite being slightly disheveled in a dress shirt and slacks. “Please, come in.”

Stepping inside the open concept condo, your eyes sweep over minimalist furniture and racing memorabilia decorating the shelves. Cozy baby items like a playmat and bouncer provide stark contrast. It’s uniquely Lando.

“Nice place,” you remark sincerely.

“Thanks. Still feels empty sometimes, but slowly making it a home for Gigi.” He smiles softly. “Speaking of which ...”

You follow Lando down a short hallway to the nursery. Your heart melts at the sight of Georgia kicking on a playmat, wearing a pink romper with a giant bow.

Lando swoops her up, blowing raspberries on her cheek. “Daddy’s got a big important meeting, princess. But Y/N is going to play with you instead.”

He passes the baby over. Georgia gives you a gummy smile, cooing.

“There’s my sweet girl.” You tickle her belly, eliciting a giggle. Lando beams proudly.

“Alright, her bottle is prepped in the fridge, and there’s clean nappies on the change table. Call if you need anything at all.”

Lando leans down to kiss Georgia’s head. “Be good for Y/N, monkey.”

With a final grateful smile your way, he heads out. You settle on the nursery floor with Georgia. “What adventures shall we have today, miss?”

The next few hours pass in a blur of playing, feeding, changing, and rocking little Georgia. You even manage a nap time by singing softly, something that always seemed to soothe her in the hospital.

Watching her sleep, you feel a rush of tenderness for the tiny being who has depended on you since her first moments. You vow to always be there when Lando and Georgia need you.

Soon enough, Lando returns home looking drained. But his whole face lights up seeing you and Georgia on the floor.

“How’d it go?” He asks, crouching down to tickle her toes.

“Perfect. We had lots of fun, isn’t that right, lovebug?” You hand the baby over for cuddles.

“Daddy missed you.” Lando nuzzles Georgia, before giving you a grateful smile. “I can’t thank you enough. Truly. You’re a natural with her.”

You wave off his praise, but can’t deny the warm spark his words ignite.

After chatting a bit more about Georgia’s afternoon and Lando’s meeting, it’s time for you to head out.

At the door, Lando halts you with a gentle hand on your wrist.

“Hey, let me take you to dinner this week — a proper thank you,” he entreats. “Anywhere you like.”

Your pulse quickens. It sounds suspiciously close to a date. But Lando’s smiling hopefully, and you find yourself nodding before overthinking it.

“I’d love that.”

Lando grins, looking both relieved and excited. “Brilliant! I’ll text you details. Have a safe drive home.”

Strapping into your car, your thoughts race wildly. This man and his daughter have captured your heart. What started as a professional duty has grown into so much more.

As you drive away, Lando and Georgia waving from the window, you can’t keep the giddy smile off your face.

Your lives are intertwining in the most marvelous ways. And you can’t wait to see what adventures are in store next.

***

The following Saturday evening, you stand in front of the mirror, fussing with your hair and makeup. Glancing at the clock, you feel butterflies swarming. Lando will arrive any minute to pick you up for dinner.

You smooth non-existent wrinkles from your knee-length black dress. It’s daringly low cut for you, but you want to feel beautiful tonight.

A buzz from your phone makes you jolt. Lando is here! Taking a deep breath, you grab your purse and hurry downstairs.

Stepping outside your apartment building, you freeze in awe. Gleaming in the golden hour sunlight is a sleek dark blue vintage supercar unlike any other you’ve seen before.

The driver door opens, and Lando steps out looking devastatingly handsome in a tailored suit. He beams. “Wow, Y/N. You look absolutely stunning.”

You blush at the sincerity in his warm gaze. “Thank you. This is … quite the car!”

Lando grins, patting the hood affectionately. “She’s my baby — a Lamborghini Miura. Isn’t she a beauty?”

You take in the aerodynamic lines and what you can only assume is a very powerful engine. “Gorgeous. And probably costs more than my yearly income.”

Lando laughs. “But she’s perfect for impressing a lovely date.” He winks before opening the passenger door for you.

You carefully climb in, hyper aware of the tiny black dress riding up your thighs. Lando’s eyes trace your legs appreciatively as you smooth your skirt.

Soon you’re zipping through the seaside city, wind whipping your hair through the open windows. Lando navigates the roads expertly.

He glances your way. “Hope this is alright! Wanted to take the fun car out while the weather holds up.”

You grin at him. “Are you kidding? I feel like a movie star!”

He looks delighted, picking up speed as you both relax into the ride.

Before long, you pull up at the legendary Hotel de Paris Monte-Carlo. A uniformed valet opens your door. Taking the proffered hand, you step out feeling like a princess.

Lando offers his arm. “Shall we?”

Inside the opulent restaurant, you’re quickly shown to an intimate table beside a window overlooking the glittering Mediterranean sea. Soft piano music fills the space.

“Lando, this is incredible,” you breathe, taking it all in.

He smiles, eyes never leaving your face. “Only the best for you.”

You blush again at his sincerity. A waiter appears to take your drink order. When you request just water, Lando insists you pick any wine on the menu.

You settle on a creamy chardonnay that pairs perfectly with your scallops and Lando’s steak. Thoughtful touches like him pulling out your chair or refilling your wine glass make the lavish meal all the more special.

The conversation flows effortlessly from racing to traveling to favourite films and music. More than once, Lando’s foot brushes yours beneath the table, sending sparks skittering across your skin.

After dessert, you both linger over coffee, hands unconsciously joined on the pristine tablecloth between you. The connection humming between you feels profound.

When Lando finally checks his watch with a reluctant sigh, you’re surprised to see you’ve been there for over three hours. It felt like mere minutes.

On the drive back, you steal glances at his sharp profile in the fading light. Joy bubbles inside you. The evening exceeded your wildest expectations.

Too soon, you’re pulling up outside your building. Lando hurries around to open your door, ever the gentleman. Clasping his hand, you step out onto the curb together.

Turning, you find him watching you closely. “I had the most wonderful time tonight,” you say sincerely.

Lando’s face breaks into a grin. “Truly magical. Thank you for coming, Y/N.” He squeezes your hand, thumb tracing delicate circles.

On impulse, you lean up and press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, Lando.”

With a final squeeze of his hand, you turn and walk inside, casting a coy look back to see him touching his cheek in wonder.

Safely in your apartment, you kick off your heels, collapsing onto the sofa with a giddy smile. The evening played in your mind like a movie — the fancy car, exquisite dinner, effortless conversation. And that powerful connection with Lando blossoming into something new and tender.

What started as a professional relationship has organically grown into a deep friendship over your shared love of little Georgia. But tonight awoke a yearning for more. You sensed the same from Lando in the way he looked at you — with affection, wonder, and desire.

You drift off on the couch still reliving each vivid moment. This feels like the start of something life changing.

Meanwhile, Lando remains fixed outside your building, fingers brushing the spot your lips graced. The soft press seared an imprint deep within him.

People had warned him pursuing anything romantic with Georgia’s physician was unwise. But from the instant he saw you holding his fragile newborn girl, instinct told him you were special. That only grew each day as your compassion and devotion soothed his frightened heart.

Tonight confirmed what he felt blooming for weeks now — he’s completely enchanted by you.

With your laughter still echoing in his mind, Lando finally drives off into the night. He knows his future, wherever it leads, must have you and Georgia in it. He’s falling, fast and hard.

And for once, recklessly chasing his heart feels entirely right. He just hopes you’ll take this leap with him.

***

On a sunny afternoon, you’re sitting cross-legged on Lando’s living room rug playing with Georgia. At nearly four months old now, she’s mastered rolling over and absolutely loves tummy time.

You grin as she determinedly pushes up on her hands, rocking back and forth. “That’s it, clever girl! You’ve almost got it.”

Georgia gives you a gummy smile before toppling over with a huff. Behind you, Lando chuckles from the couch where he’s on hold with a takeaway place.

“I swear she gets more stubborn every day. Definitely takes after me,” he remarks fondly.

You smile. “She knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to work for it. Sound familiar?”

Lando laughs. “Too right. At this rate, she’ll be racing cars herself soon.”

You’re about to respond when the sound of the front door opening makes you both freeze. Before you can react, an accented female voice calls out excitedly.

“Lando, darling! Surprise, we’ve come to visit!”

Lando flies off the couch just as his parents round the corner. “Mum! Dad! What are you doing here?”

He embraces them both tightly while you hover awkwardly behind Georgia. What must Lando’s family think finding a strange woman playing with their grandchild?

But before you can open your mouth to explain, Lando’s mum spots you. Her face lights up. “Y/N! How wonderful to finally meet you in person!”

To your shock, she swoops down and hugs you like a long lost relative. Bewildered, you return the embrace.

Over her shoulder, Lando rubs his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, I may have told them a fair bit about you and Gigi ...”

His father approaches next, politely shaking your hand. “Lando speaks very highly of you, Y/N. Thank you for taking such good care of our boy and the little one.”

“Oh, um, of course!” You manage to stammer out. Lando mentioned you to his parents? The thought makes your heart flutter wildly.

Before you can dwell on it, Georgia lets out an impatient shriek from her abandoned tummy time.

Cisca gasps, immediately scooping her up. “Oh my goodness, look how big you’ve gotten, baby girl!” She tickles Georgia’s belly, eliciting sweet giggles.

Lando smiles softly at the sight. You feel privileged to witness this intimate family moment.

Soon you’re all seated around the living room, chatting comfortably. Adam keeps throwing not-so-subtle winks Lando’s way whenever you and Cisca fawn over Georgia together. Lando just shakes his head, cheeks slightly flushed.

Later, his parents insist on taking you both out to dinner at a nice restaurant. Over the meal, you observe how Cisca’s animated mannerisms and Adam’s dry wit remind you so much of Lando. He clearly inherited the best of both.

Walking back to the car afterwards, Cisca links her arm through yours fondly. “I’m just thrilled Lando has you looking after him and little Georgia. It takes a very special woman to so selflessly love and support someone else’s child.”

You squeeze her arm, touched. “Well, they make it easy. I’d do anything for those two.”

Cisca pats your hand knowingly. “I can see that, dear. Don’t ever let my son take that for granted.”

Glancing ahead, you watch Lando swinging a sleepy Georgia in his arms, gazing down at her with pure adoration. Your heart clenches.

“I don’t think that’s possible. He’s the most devoted father imaginable,” you reply softly.

Cisca follows your gaze, smiling. “He is at that. Just like his own.”

Adam wraps an arm around his wife, kissing her temple. Cisca leans into him with a contented sigh. Their easy intimacy and abiding love is relationship goals.

You find yourself sneaking another peek at Lando, imagining strolling arm in arm like that one day. But it’s too soon for such daydreams.

Still, meeting his wonderful parents today, seeing how he talks about you … it feels like things are shifting into place.

That night, as Lando walks you to your car, he stops you with a hand on your wrist. “Thank you again for today. You were brilliant with my parents — they’re absolutely smitten.”

You grin. “They’re lovely. I see where you get it from.”

Lando rolls his eyes but smiles bashfully. An impulse has you leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Goodnight, Lando.” With a little wave, you slip into your car before he can respond.

But the awestruck look on Lando’s face stays with you the whole drive home. Something big is on the horizon, you can feel it.

And if the way his family embraced you today is any indication, you have their full support too. You’ve never been more excited about what the future holds.

***

A few days later, you’re rushing around your apartment getting ready. Lando invited you over for dinner and a movie tonight while his parents watch Georgia. You’ve been looking forward to the rare child-free evening all week.

After debating outfit options, you decide on form fitting jeans and a silky camisole. Casual yet flirty. Dabbing on a bit of perfume, you check yourself in the mirror. You want to knock his socks off.

Precisely at six, your phone chimes with a text from Lando that he’s waiting outside. Taking a deep breath, you go meet him.

As expected, he looks effortlessly handsome leaning against his flashy car grinning at you. “Well don’t you look gorgeous tonight,” he remarks, opening your door.

You smirk, settling into the low seat. “Not looking too bad yourself, Mr. Norris.”

Lando just winks before speeding off into the golden hour sunlight. You chat easily throughout the short drive about your days apart. When you mention missing Georgia, Lando smiles softly.

“Me too, constantly. But she’s in great hands with my parents tonight.” Reaching over, he gives your hand an affectionate squeeze that makes your heart race.

Soon you pull up outside Lando’s sleek condo building. He leads you upstairs, fingers entwined.

Inside, mouthwatering aromas fill the air. You follow Lando to the kitchen where pots bubble away on the stove.

“I hope you’re hungry. My dad’s recipe for chicken curry.” Lando stirs one of the pots before glancing at you shyly. “I may have been practicing all week.”

You grin, touched that he went to such effort. “It smells incredible! I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Full of surprises.” Lando winks. “Now you just relax while I finish up.”

You perch at the kitchen island while Lando works. The domesticity of it all makes your chest feel warm. You could definitely get used to this.

Soon dinner is served along with a crisp white wine. You compliment Lando between bites, making him preen. Everything is delicious.

Over dessert, your feet become entangled beneath the small table. The simmering looks passing between you leave no doubt this is a date.

With dishes cleared, Lando leads you to the living room. “Now, the entertainment portion of the evening.” He gestures grandly towards the large TV.

You settle onto the plush grey sectional while Lando queues up your chosen rom-com. Before pressing play, he pauses.

“Do you maybe want to get more comfortable?” He gestures to the blanket and abundance of throw pillows nearby.

You smile, touched at how he’s trying to create a cozy movie watching environment. “That sounds perfect.”

Working together, you both strip down to t-shirts and lounge pants, then arrange the pillows and blankets into a comfy nest. Your heart races at the intimacy of it all.

Lando opens his arms for you to curl against his chest. You sigh, breathing in his comforting scent. His steady heartbeat thrums beneath your ear as the movie starts.

About halfway through, you glance up to see Lando staring down at you tenderly, movie forgotten. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, fingers trailing down to tilt your chin up. Eyes fluttering shut, you lean in as his lips meet yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

Everything around you fades away. The only sensation is Lando’s gentle lips moving with yours, laced with warmth and affection.

When you finally break apart, faces lingering close, he exhales shakily. “Wow. That was ...”

“Perfect,” you whisper, caressing his stubbled cheek. Lando nuzzles into your touch.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time,” he admits with a crooked smile.

You grin. “What took you so long?”

Lando laughs, pulling you closer again. Your lips find their way back together naturally. With your legs entwined and his hand trailing up and down your back, you lose all track of time and space.

Eventually you pull back just to catch your breath, lips pleasantly swollen. Lando strokes your hair tenderly.

“Y/N, you must know by now how truly special you are to me. From the moment we met, I felt fate bringing us together. And I never want to let you go.” His eyes search yours intently.

Your pulse quickens. “Lando ...”

“What I’m trying to say is ...” He takes a deep breath. “Will you be my girlfriend? Officially?”

Joy erupts inside you as you throw your arms around his neck. “Yes, I’d love nothing more!”

Lando’s delighted laughter vibrates against you as he squeezes you tight. You stay locked in an embrace, trading giddy kisses until sleepiness inevitably sets in.

Lando carries you to bed, tucking you both under the covers with your head pillowed on his chest. You drift off smiling, his steady heartbeat your lullaby.

Waking wrapped in Lando’s arms the next morning feels like pure bliss. He stirs, blinking awake to see you watching him fondly.

“Morning, beautiful.” Lando caresses your cheek before capturing your lips in a tender good morning kiss.

You hum contentedly. “I could get very used to this.”

“Well luckily, you’re my girlfriend now. So you’re stuck with me.” He grins playfully.

You snuggle impossibly closer. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

***

On a sunny spring morning, you’re in Lando’s kitchen pureeing some bananas for Georgia’s breakfast. At nearly one year old now, she’s mastered eating soft finger foods.

Lando wanders in with Georgia propped on his hip, her dark curls tied up in adorable pigtails. “Someone’s ready for her breakfast!”

You grin, smoothing Georgia’s hair back to kiss her chubby cheek. “Morning, my darling! Got your bananas all ready.”

Lando settles Georgia into her high chair, handing you her baby spoon shaped like a rabbit. “Not sure who’s more excited about mealtimes now, her or me,” he jokes.

You laugh. “Gotta get our girl fed so she has energy to get into everything!”

Georgia bangs her hands impatiently on the tray until you scoop up a spoonful of bananas. “Alright, here comes the Formula 1 car!”

You zoom the spoon around playfully before popping it in her mouth. Georgia squeals in delight, kicking her little feet.

Lando leans against the counter smiling as you continue taking turns feeding her. When the last bites are finished, he grabs a washcloth to wipe Georgia’s sticky face and hands.

“Who’s my big girl eating like such a pro?” He coos, tickling her belly. Georgia dissolves into adorable giggles.

Setting the washcloth down, Lando brushes a stray banana strand from her hair. “You’re the sweetest, most beautiful girl in the whole world. Yes you are!”

Georgia beams up at him, waving her hands excitedly. Then clear as day, she exclaims “Mama!”

You freeze in shock. Did she just ...

Lando’s eyes fly to yours, equally stunned. An awkward tension instantly permeates the room.

“I-I never encouraged that, I swear,” Lando rushes to explain, panicked. “I always call you by name when I talk about you to her.”

“No no, of course, I didn’t think-” You halt, flustered. “I would never try to make her call me ...” You can’t even say it, heart pounding wildly.

A heavy silence falls. You avert your eyes, anxiously twisting the washcloth between your hands.

Lando scrubs a hand down his face. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know why she ...” He trails off helplessly.

After a long pause, Lando touches your arm gently. “Hey, look at me?”

You reluctantly meet his earnest gaze. Lando takes your hands in his, tone serious.

“Y/N, you must know how much I respect your role in Georgia’s life. We’re partners in this, fully. I would never try to force a maternal label on you.”

His obvious sincerity makes you instantly relax. Offering a small smile, you squeeze his hands.

“Of course. I didn’t think that. It just took me by surprise is all.” You take a deep breath before continuing hesitantly.

“But, well … the idea of Georgia seeing me that way doesn’t scare me. Not if it happens naturally.” You chance a glance at Lando through your lashes.

His eyes soften. “Truly?” At your shy nod, a smile spreads across his face.

“Because, well, I was thinking the same.” Lando cradles your face between his palms. “You already are a mum to her in every way that matters.”

You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Joy and relief flood your system.

Georgia makes an impatient noise, breaking the tender spell. You both chuckle.

Lando lifts her from the chair into his arms. “Don’t worry princess, your mama isn’t going anywhere.”

Hearing those words from Lando sends your heart soaring. You join the cuddle, Georgia nestled happily between you.

“Our sweet girl,” Lando murmurs, meeting your gaze over her little head. The pure love reflected back at you erases any lingering doubts.

You place a soft kiss to Georgia’s curls, then lean up to capture Lando’s lips. The promise of your future together never felt stronger.

Many more milestones await, for Georgia and your relationship both. But you know without question that the bonds between you three will only continue growing deeper.

Of all the twists and turns on this journey, your little family is the sweetest gift of all.

***

The day of the Monaco Grand Prix dawns bright and clear. You finish braiding Georgia’s hair as she babbles happily. At 18 months old now, her vocabulary expands daily.

“There we go, pretty girl! All set to cheer on Daddy!”

Georgia grins. “Dada race!”

You smile, smoothing her dress. “That’s right, darling!”

A knock sounds right before Lando pokes his head into the nursery. “My two favorite girls about ready?”

Scooping up Georgia, you turn so he can admire her race day outfit. “Well don’t we look beautiful!” Lando tickles Georgia’s tummy before pulling you both into a hug.

“I can’t tell you how much it means to have you both here today,” he says softly.

You squeeze him tight. As a pediatrician, getting full weekends off for races proved nearly impossible. But for Monaco, you moved mountains.

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you assure him. Lando’s responding smile warms your heart.

The energy at the track is electric. Georgia’s eyes widen taking in all the sights and sounds. You carry her through the paddock towards the McLaren garage, Lando greeting various people along the way.

Inside, Lando steals a quick kiss. “I better go get suited up. See you after?”

You nod, adjusting a squirmy Georgia on your hip. “We’ll be cheering the loudest!”

Lando changes into his race suit, then leads you both over to his car. Georgia is mesmerized, reaching a tiny hand towards the shiny machine.

“That’s right munchkin, this is what Daddy drives!” Lando points out key features, then grabs a helmet from a crew member.

“Want to try it on?” Not waiting for an answer, Lando gently fits the helmet over Georgia’s curls. She immediately shrieks in delight.

Laughing, Lando scoops her up, zooming her around like she’s driving. “Look at you, a future champion in the making!”

You snap some photos of the adorable scene until it’s time for Lando to go off with his performance coach. After one last kiss for both of you, he disappears into the controlled pre-race chaos.

An assistant escorts you to the McLaren hospitality suite overlooking the pit lane. The view of the gleaming harbor and yachts reminds you this race is unlike anywhere else.

As start time nears, you cuddle a restless Georgia close, pointing out Lando’s car lined up on the grid. “See? There’s Daddy! He’s about to go racing.” Her little brow furrows, not quite understanding.

When the lights go out, Georgia startles at the loud roar of engines. Rubbing her back soothingly, you keep your eyes glued to the screen as the cars hurtle towards the tight first corner bottleneck.

“Come on Lando,” you murmur under your breath. He emerges from the chaos in 4th position. Off to a promising start.

Over the next 90 minutes, you fluctuate between pure elation and anxiety as the race unfolds. A collision forces Lando to pit unexpectedly. Just as your heart rate settles, another car spins right in front of him, spraying debris across the track.

But Lando holds his nerve, keeping the car under control to cross the line in P3. You leap up, cheering loudly with Georgia.

Soon Lando emerges, hair damp from the obligatory champagne shower.

His race suit is unzipped to the waist as he sweeps you both into an exuberant hug. “You did so good,” you murmur into his neck. Pulling back, Lando caresses Georgia’s head where it rests heavily on your shoulder.

“Little one tuckered herself out cheering for Daddy, hmm?” He takes her gently as she nuzzles into his chest with a yawn.

“Let’s get my best girls home.” With Georgia cradled in one arm and the other around your waist, Lando leads you out of the paddock like a proud family man. Your heart feels fit to burst.

That night after Georgia is tucked into bed, you curl up together on the couch. The TV plays highlights of the race you lived firsthand.

Lando absently strokes your hair. “You know, the lads invited me out to celebrate tonight.”

You lift your head. “Oh really? You should go have fun!”

But Lando just smiles, pulling you closer. “And miss this? Not a chance.” He kisses you tenderly. “Partying in Monaco holds nothing on being with my two favorite people.”

You kiss him again, touched. However far Lando’s career takes him, you know his heart will remain right here with you and Georgia.

***

Summer finally arrives, bringing a short respite between races for Lando. Eager to make the most of it, you suggest visiting your hometown to introduce him and Georgia to your parents.

“They’d love to finally meet you both,” you say over breakfast one morning.

Lando smiles, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. “That sounds brilliant, love. I can’t wait to see where you grew up.”

You grin excitedly. “It’s nothing glamorous like Monaco. But I have so many good memories there.”

With plans made, you set off early one sunny Saturday morning, boarding a flight with Georgia securely buckled into her carrier. She babbles happily for most of the flight, enchanted by the clouds and miniature landscape passing below. Lando keeps one hand firmly clasped in yours the entire time.

Late afternoon, you finally pull up outside the cozy house you grew up in. Taking a deep breath, you unbuckle a sleepy Georgia from her seat.

“We’re here, Gigi! Ready to meet Grandma and Grandpa?”

She rubs her eyes with a tiny fist, still drowsy. Lando comes around to lift her into his arms.

“Someone’s a bit tired from all the traveling, huh? Maybe a quick nap first?” He kisses Georgia’s fuzzy head as she snuggles into his shoulder.

You nod, smoothing down her rumpled sundress. Taking Lando’s free hand, you head up the front walk.

Before you can even knock, the front door swings open. Your mum stands beaming at the threshold.

“Y/N! Oh, let me see her!” She sweeps you into a tight hug before immediately cooing over a now awake Georgia. “What an absolute darling!”

You grin. “Mom, meet your granddaughter, Georgia.” Saying it out loud sends a little thrill through you.

Your mother gently strokes Georgia’s dark curls. “Look at all this beautiful hair! Those eyes are all her daddy though.” She smiles warmly at Lando.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you, Mrs. Y/L/N,” Lando says politely, shaking her extended hand.

“Oh please, call me Y/M/N! Now come in, come in!” She ushers you both inside the familiar cozy house.

Your dad appears from his office to exchange hearty handshakes and hugs. Lando looks slightly overwhelmed by the enthusiastic welcome.

Sensing this, you squeeze his arm reassuringly. “Why don’t I put Georgia down for her nap? You guys chat.”

Lando shoots you a grateful smile. You disappear down the hall to your childhood bedroom, now converted to a cozy nursery space. Georgia is out like a light before you’ve even finished tucking her in.

Returning to the living room, you pause in the doorway, heart swelling at the scene. Lando sits between your parents on the sofa as they animatedly show him your baby photos. His eyes shine taking it all in. This is the sense of family he’s long craved.

Eventually Georgia wakes, cranky and clingy. You scoop her up, breathing in that sweet baby scent as you rub her back.

“I know, lots of new things happening today. But you’re being so brave.” Dropping a kiss to her curls, you return to the living room.

Your mother immediately reaches for Georgia, who goes willingly into her arms. “Come sit with Grandma, sweetheart.”

Settling on the couch between your parents again, Lando slips an arm around your shoulders. Georgia babbles happily from your mother’s lap.

The rest of the day passes comfortably as your parents dote on their new granddaughter. Watching your mom help Georgia toddle around the yard, your dad pushing her on the tree swing, Lando’s arm stays wrapped securely around you.

That night after Georgia is down, you find Lando out on the back porch gazing up at the stars. You join him on the steps, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“You okay?”

Lando looks down at you with a soft smile. “More than. Today was really special.”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face. “Seeing how your parents just immediately welcomed us into the family … it means everything. I never expected to find this.” His voice turns thick with emotion.

You lift your head to meet his sincere gaze, heart brimming over. No words needed, you convey it all in a tender kiss.

When you eventually pull apart, foreheads touching, Lando exhales shakily. “Being here with you and Gigi, it just feels so right. Like we were always meant to be a family.”

Joyful tears prick your eyes hearing him voice the same feeling living inside you. You cradle his face gently.

“We were, Lando. From that very first day in the hospital, I knew fate brought us together for a reason.”

Lando’s responding smile could outshine the moon and stars overhead. He kisses you again, soft and unhurried, arms encircling you on that familiar back porch.

***

Two years to the day after that fateful first meeting, you’re finishing rounds in the maternity ward when your supervisor requests you in her office. Brow furrowed, you make your way down the hall and knock lightly.

“Come in!”

You step inside to find her beaming behind her desk. “Y/N! Please, have a seat.”

Perplexed, you settle into the plush chair across from her. “Is everything okay?”

“Better than okay, I’d say.” She grins and slides an official document across the desk towards you. “Take a look at this.”

You scan the letter, eyes widening. It’s a notice of a 250,000 euro donation to the hospital’s maternity ward and nursery … made in your name.

“What? This must be a mistake, I didn’t ...” You trail off, completely baffled.

Your supervisor laughs. “Oh it’s quite real, I assure you. In fact, the donor himself insisted on being here today to celebrate.”

Before you can respond, a knock sounds. You turn to see Lando stroll in, right on cue, with a grinning Georgia perched on his hip.

“Lando!” You gasp. “Did you … is this from you?”

He smiles almost shyly, setting Georgia down so she can toddle over to you. “Wanted to do something meaningful to mark the anniversary of when we first met.”

You stand frozen in shock as Georgia crashes into your legs. Scooping her up, you turn back to Lando with tears in your eyes.

“This is too much, I … I don’t know what to say.” You glance between him and your equally emotional supervisor.

Lando moves closer, taking your hands in his. “Say you’ll come with me for a proper celebration? Just the three of us?” He brushes his thumbs over your knuckles, eyes twinkling.

Unable to form words, you simply nod. Lando’s face lights up with that smile that still makes your heart skip.

After signing some paperwork and hugging your supervisor profusely, you allow Lando to lead you out to the car, Georgia babbling happily between you. But instead of heading home, he drives to the glittering harbor front.

There, you gasp to see a magnificent yacht floating ready at the dock. A crew in crisp white uniforms wait nearby.

Lando grins at your stunned reaction. “Told you we’re celebrating in style today!”

The staff smiles warmly as you board, cooing over Georgia toddling around excitedly. She especially loves watching the foam trail behind the yacht as it pulls away from shore.

You stand wrapped in Lando’s arms, his chin resting on your shoulder. “I still can’t believe you did all this,” you murmur.

Lando presses a kiss to your temple. “You deserve it all and more, my love.”

You pass a blissful afternoon on the water, enjoying a gourmet lunch and each other’s company. Lando is attentive as ever, making sure you want for nothing.

As the sun dips low, a crew member approaches. “So sorry to interrupt, but we’ll be arriving shortly. Please follow me downstairs to prepare.”

You glance questioningly at Lando, but he just smiles and urges you to follow with Georgia. Down in your luxurious cabin, an elegant evening gown awaits on the bed alongside a tiny version for Georgia.

Your heart flutters wildly now. Lando is clearly planning something major. You help Georgia into her dress, your hands shaking slightly with anticipation.

A knock at the door announces the crew member has returned. “We’ve arrived back at port, whenever you’re ready.”

Back up top, Lando stands waiting in a sharp suit, holding a bouquet of roses. He looks devastatingly handsome.

Taking your hand, he leads you down the gangplank onto the dock where a car waits to whisk you away into the hills overlooking the sea. The sunset bathes everything in golden light.

When the car stops at a secluded lookout point, Lando helps you out then retrieves a sleepy Georgia. Hand in hand, you approach the cliff edge.

Down below, a massive light display flashes to life along the shoreline. You gasp as the glowing words become clear:

Y/N, will you marry me?

You clap a hand over your mouth, spinning to Lando with tears pooling in your eyes. He’s down on one knee, Georgia sitting next to him playing with flower petals.

“Two years ago, you came into our lives and changed everything,” Lando begins emotionally. “Your compassion and selflessness as a doctor saved my fragile new family.”

He takes a shaky breath. “But you gave me so much more than that. Your kindness, your beauty inside and out, your incredible love for me and Georgia … you’re my dream come true.”

Tears spill freely down your cheeks as Lando pulls out a glittering diamond ring. “So Y/N Y/L/N, nothing would make me happier than for you to officially become my family. Will you marry me?”

A joyful sob escapes you as you sink down, throwing your arms around him. “Yes, Lando, a million times yes!”

His relieved laughter vibrates against you. When you pull back, Lando takes your hand gently to slide the exquisite ring onto your finger. A perfect fit.

Georgia seems to sense the significance of the moment and toddles over to wrap her little arms around your legs. You lift her into a fierce hug between you.

“I love you both so very much,” you whisper emotionally. Lando’s responding smile outshines the luminous lights along the shore.

Cradling your faces in his hands, he seals his proposal with the sweetest kiss as the sunset fades to twilight.

You linger wrapped in Lando’s arms, Georgia nestled between you, as the first stars emerge overhead. Right here, surrounded by your little family, you’ve never felt happier or more at peace.

It’s extraordinary what two short years can bring — unexpected joy, profound purpose, and a love greater than you dared dream.

The brightest days are still ahead. But tonight, in this perfect moment, you know you’ve already found everything you’ll ever need.

***

The day of your wedding to Lando dawns bright and sunny — perfect weather for an outdoor ceremony overlooking the glittering Mediterranean sea.

Inside the bridal suite, your mother puts the final pins in your elegant updo while your bridesmaids fuss over the train of your lace gown.

A knock at the door announces your father’s arrival. When you turn to face him in your wedding finery, his eyes well up.

“Oh sweetheart … you look absolutely beautiful.”

You immediately tear up too, embracing him tightly. “Don’t make me ruin my makeup before I’ve even walked down the aisle!”

He laughs wetly, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief. “Couldn’t help it! My girl is all grown up.”

Looking in the mirror, you hardly recognize yourself in the exquisite dress and pinned-back curls. But the overwhelmed bride staring back has the same little girl dreams you harbored all those years ago. Dreams that are finally coming true today.

Another quick knock precedes Georgia toddling in, chubby legs pumping. Your flower girl is absolutely angelic in her silky dress.

“Mama, pwetty!” She declares, rushing over for cuddles. You scoop her up, breathing in that sweet baby scent you adore.

“You look so beautiful, my love.” Blinking back fresh tears, you smooth down her unruly curls. “Ready to walk down the aisle with flowers?”

Georgia just grins and reaches for your necklace. You tickle her belly, making her dissolve into adorable giggles. Your heart swells with love for your daughter.

Too soon, the wedding coordinator is poking her head in. “Sorry to interrupt, but it’s just about time!”

Butterflies erupt as everyone hustles to line up. Your father tucks your arm through his, beaming with pride. Just outside the doors, Georgia toddles down the petal-strewn aisle ahead of you both.

Then the soaring orchestral processional begins, and you step out into the golden afternoon sunlight. Gasps and murmurs rise at the sight of your dramatic gown trailing behind.

But your eyes lock instantly on Lando under the flower-woven arch, looking devastatingly handsome in his slate grey suit. His face lights up, and you know that your own mirrors the same wonder and joy.

The ceremony passes in a blur of emotions. Before you know it, the officiant instructs you and Lando to face each other and take hands. Time for the vows.

You go first, hands shaking as you pull out your prepared words. But speaking from the heart comes easily.

“Lando, when we first met under the most unexpected circumstances, I had no idea of the amazing journey we’d go on together. My job was to ensure your new daughter received the care she deserved.”

Your voice wavers slightly. “But so quickly, you both became so much more. Being welcomed into your family was the greatest gift. Watching Georgia grow, guiding her first steps and words ...”

You have to pause, blinking back more tears. Lando squeezes your hands encouragingly.

Composing yourself, you continue thickly, “I vow to always provide that same nurturing love and support. I promise to be your safe place to call home after long days apart. And I pledge to show our daughter daily what it means to be a strong, compassionate woman.”

Taking a shaky breath, you finish softly, “You two are my entire world. Loving you is life’s greatest joy.”

Lando’s eyes glisten as he brushes away the single tear trailing down your cheek. His thumbs linger, cradling your face tenderly.

Clearing his throat, he begins his own vows, voice wavering with emotion. “Y/N, you appeared in my life like an angel that frightening day at the hospital. I was so lost, overwhelmed by the massive responsibility of suddenly having Georgia.”

He glances down at your joined hands. “But your compassion and wisdom guided me through those uncertain early days. You made us feel safe.”

Looking up, his eyes pierce yours intensely. “What started as our doctor-patient relationship grew into the most important friendship I’ve ever known. And then, miraculously, into true, deep love. Thank you for loving Georgia as your own and showing me what true partnership means.”

Lando’s voice cracks. He pauses to take a shaky breath. “So I vow to spend every day reciprocating that love and support. I promise to shield you from the chaos of my world and provide a peaceful home for our family.”

Then he turns, taking a folded paper from the best man. “I asked Georgia if she wanted to say anything to her mama today.”

He opens it to reveal a drawing of three stick figures, one much smaller than the others. Scribbled hearts surround you all.

Lando’s voice thickens. “She said to tell you she loves you ‘this much’ and that you’re the best mama ever.”

A sob escapes you as Lando refolds the cherished drawing and hands it over. You press it to your heart, blinking back a fresh wave of tears.

Finally, you slip the wedding bands onto each other’s fingers with whispered words of eternal love and commitment.

When the officiant pronounces you husband and wife, Lando sweeps you into his arms for the kind of kiss that steals your breath and stops time.

You are finally, officially, wholeheartedly one.

The reception flies by in more happy tears, moving speeches, delicious food, and dancing under the stars. Watching Lando twirl Georgia around the floor tugs at your heart.

Later, as you slow dance wrapped in your new husband’s arms, Lando kisses your hair and whispers, “Ready for this new adventure together, Dr. Y/L/N-Norris?”

You beam up at him. “Absolutely. Lead the way, Mr. Norris.”

No matter where life takes you next on this journey, your family will thrive and grow stronger. Lando’s love lifts you up in ways you never imagined possible. And you vow to cherish and repay that gift until your last breath.

***

Returning home from a blissful honeymoon, you settle back into domestic life with Lando and Georgia. Mornings are spent over pancakes, playing hide and seek, and dancing around the living room. The pure joy of your little family never ceases to warm your heart.

One evening after putting Georgia to bed, you curl up with Lando on the couch and hesitantly broach something you’ve been thinking about.

“So I wanted to discuss something with you. It’s just an idea, and please don’t feel pressured at all.” You take a deep breath. “What would you think about me officially adopting Gigi?”

Lando’s eyes widen in surprise. You rush to continue explaining.

“I don’t want you to think I need a piece of paper to love her with my whole heart, because I already do. More than anything in this world.” Your voice cracks slightly.

Reaching out, you grasp his hands. “I just want to make sure that no matter what, I have a legal right to take care of her. But only if you’re completely comfortable with it!”

Lando is quiet for a long moment, studying your anxious face. Then a smile spreads across his face. “Love, I think it’s a beautiful idea.”

You sag in relief. “Truly? I wasn’t sure if it was too much ...”

Lando silences you with a tender kiss. “Gigi is the luckiest girl in the world to have you as her mum. I want the whole world to know that too.”

Tears prick your eyes as Lando caresses your cheek. “The day you promised to love Georgia as your own was the moment I knew you were different. I see how you are with her — the time, the care, the unconditional love ...” His voice cracks slightly.

“You gave us the greatest gift. I want you to have the same security that she’ll always be yours.”

A single tear traces down your cheek. Lando brushes it away gently before drawing you into his arms. You cling to him, heart overflowing with love and gratitude.

When you finally pull back, Lando is dabbing at his own eyes. “So,” he says with a watery chuckle, “How do we make this official?”

You explain the process — paperwork, a hearing, lawyer fees. He waves it all off.

“Whatever it takes. I’ll call our attorney first thing tomorrow.” Lando squeezes you tight. “Soon you’ll legally be Gigi’s mum too!”

You grin and kiss him soundly. With Lando fully on board, excitement takes root.

Over the next weeks, you go through the steps — filing petitions, scheduling court dates, and explaining the process in age-appropriate ways to an occasionally grumpy Georgia when she can’t go play outside instead.

Finally, the big day arrives. You dress Georgia in her favorite pink checkered dress and do her hair in perfect pigtails.

“My beautiful girl,” you murmur, smoothing down a flyaway curl. Her answering smile melts your heart.

At the courthouse, you all meet the social worker assigned to your case. She questions you and Lando gently about your relationship, home life, and approach to parenting. You cling tight to Lando’s hand the entire time.

Finally, it’s time for the hearing before a grandfatherly judge. He smiles warmly, peering over his glasses at you all.

“Well, I must say, this is one of the more straightforward cases to come before me. I can see clear as day how much love exists in this family.”

Relief floods you. The judge continues, “Therefore, I am more than pleased to grant the petition to finalize the adoption of Georgia Senna Norris by her mother, Y/N Y/L/N-Norris.” He bangs his gavel with an air of finality.

Joyful tears pour down your face. Lando whoops and sweeps you into a spinning hug. Even Georgia seems to realize something momentous just occurred, clapping her little hands.

In a daze, you sign the final paperwork making it official before emerging from the courthouse into the warm sunlight, your family now fully complete.

That evening, after Georgia is asleep, you curl up with Lando in bed, reliving the special day. He kisses your hair and murmurs, “I’m so proud of you, Mama.”

You grin against his chest. “I never thought I could feel so much love. She’s changed my life in every way.”

Lando tilts your chin up, eyes glowing. “That’s exactly how I feel about you. My girls who make life beautiful.”

***

One sunny afternoon, you’re in the kitchen prepping a snack for four-year-old Georgia when she comes bounding in from preschool.

“Mummy, guess what? My friend Amy at school is gonna be a big sister!” She hops up on her stool, eyes bright with excitement.

“Oh really? That’s fun!” You slice an apple into bunny shapes.

Georgia nods vigorously. “Yeah! Her mum has a baby in her tummy. Can I have a brother or sister in your tummy too?”

You freeze, knife hovering over the apple. Slowly setting it down, you turn to face her. “You want a little sibling?”

“Yes yes yes!” She bounces in her seat. “I asked Daddy already and he said I should ask you too.”

Your mind spins. A baby … it’s something you and Lando have only vaguely discussed as a someday possibility. But with Georgia asking so eagerly, the concept suddenly feels very real.

Just then, Lando walks in from his office. Georgia immediately appeals to him. “Daddy, tell Mummy we should have a baby! I wanna be a big sister.”

Lando meets your startled gaze, scrubbing a hand through his curls. “Well, uh, what do you think, love? Could be kinda nice to add to our crew.”

You glance between their hopeful faces, heart swelling. “I think … that could be really special for our family.”

Georgia cheers while Lando grins, coming over to wrap you in a hug. “A mini you running around? Sign me up.” His smile falters slightly. “Only if you want to though, truly.”

You squeeze him back. “I really do. We’ve come so far since the days of newborn Georgia. I’d love to go through it all again with you.”

The joy lighting up Lando’s face erases any lingering doubts.

That night after Georgia is asleep, you curl up together to discuss logistics. “I’ll need to give notice at the hospital once I’m pregnant so they can find someone to cover my maternity leave.”

Lando waves dismissively. “Don’t worry about any of that. Focus on growing our little muffin and I’ll handle the rest.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Our little muffin?”

“Or crumpet. Jellybean. Peanut.” Lando grins. “Take your pick, I’ve got a million terrible nicknames ready to go.”

Laughing, you swat his chest playfully. Sobering, you add, “It won’t be easy juggling a newborn and busy four year-old. But I can’t wait to see Georgia as a big sister.”

Lando smiles tenderly, threading his fingers through yours. “You’re already the most incredible mum. Our kids are so lucky.”

Your throat tightens at the absolute faith in his voice. No matter the challenges ahead, you’ll get through them together.

When you share the news with Georgia, she screeches loud enough to wake the neighbors. Her enthusiasm never wanes over the following months.

Finally, the big day arrives. After a long but relatively smooth delivery, your son enters the world screaming indignantly. The sound is music to your ears.

Lando cuts the cord with shaking hands before your little boy is placed in your arms. Love surges fiercely and instantly.

“Hi Maddox,” you whisper through joyful tears. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Lando presses a kiss to both your heads before going to bring Georgia in. She gasps softly, climbing up to peer at her new brother with wide eyes.

“He’s so little!” Reaching out a gentle finger, she strokes Maddox’s downy cheek. Your heart clenches watching your babies meet.

Georgia cuddles close as you adjust her arm to help cradle Maddox. “I’m your big sister Gigi! I’m gonna help take care of you.” She drops a sloppy kiss on his forehead.

Blinking back a fresh wave of tears, you meet Lando’s equally wet gaze. The road that first led you to Lando has become so much more than you ever imagined. But you wouldn’t change a single unexpected twist or turn.

***

You link arms with Lando as you make your way through the familiar Silverstone paddock. The distinctive smell of race fuel hangs in the air, mingling with the buzz of excitement rippling through the crowd.

Georgia skips ahead, her brunette curls bouncing with each step, while Maddox clings to Lando’s free hand, his eyes wide with wonder. Alexa, your two-year-old, nestles securely in your arms, her tiny fingers clutching the McLaren teddy bear she insisted on bringing today. A small smile tugs at your lips as you glance down at her cherubic face, so much like Lando’s. Your heart swells with love for your beautiful family.

“Mummy, look!” Georgia calls out, pointing towards the McLaren garage suite. “Can we go in and see the car later?”

“We’ll see, darling,” you reply with a wink, knowing full well that Lando will ensure a special tour for the kids.

Lando squeezes your hand, his warm eyes twinkling with adoration. “Anything for my favorite girls … and Maddox,” he teases, ruffling Maddox’s hair playfully.

Maddox giggles, his freckled cheeks dimpling. “I’m your favorite boy though, right?”

“Of course,” Lando assures him with a conspiratorial wink.

As you continue down the bustling pathway, a Sky Sports reporter spots your family and rushes over, microphone in hand.

“Lando! Dr. Y/L/N-Norris! Do you have a moment for a quick interview?” He asks, his cameraman already rolling.

Lando nods, ever the professional. “Sure, mate. Go ahead.”

The reporter flashes a bright smile at the camera. “We’re here at the Silverstone Circuit with McLaren driver, Lando Norris, his wife, Dr. Y/N Y/L/N-Norris, and their children, Georgia, Maddox, and Alexa. It’s the weekend of the British Grand Prix, and the Norris family has been a fixture in the paddock for years.”

He turns to Georgia and Maddox, crouching down to their level. “So, you two must love coming to the races with your dad. What’s your favorite part?”

Georgia’s eyes light up as she launches into an enthusiastic explanation about the cars and the pit stops, her hands gesturing animatedly. Maddox, the quieter one, simply mumbles “the colors” with a shy grin.

The reporter chuckles, clearly charmed by the children’s responses. Straightening up, he addresses you and Lando. “And how about you two? Managing a hectic F1 schedule with three young kids can’t be easy. What’s the secret?”

Before either of you can respond, Georgia pipes up, “But it’s not three kids, it’s five!”

You tense, shooting Lando a panicked glance. This wasn’t how you’d planned to share the news of your pregnancy.

“Five kids?” The reporter’s brows furrow in confusion.

Georgia nods matter-of-factly. “Yep, there are two more babies in Mummy’s belly!”

A hush falls over the small crowd that has gathered nearby, and you can feel dozens of eyes trained on your still-flat stomach. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you instinctively place a protective hand over your abdomen.

The reporter blinks, clearly thrown off-script. “Well, I … congratulations! That’s certainly going to be a handful.”

You force a laugh, leaning into Lando’s solid frame. “Yes, well, Lando’s always said he wants a football team.”

Your husband grins, that cheeky grin you fell in love with, and wraps an arm around your waist. “What can I say? I like to keep things interesting.”

The crowd titters with amusement, and you can feel the tension dissipating.

“I can only imagine,” the reporter replies with a smile. “Well, thank you all for chatting with us today, and congratulations again on your growing family!”

As the reporter and his crew move on, you turn to Lando, your eyes shining with unshed tears — a heady mix of residual mortification and overwhelming love.

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur, stroking his stubbled jaw. “I know we wanted to share the news on our own terms.”

Lando silences you with a tender kiss, his lips warm and achingly familiar against yours. When he pulls back, his gaze is soft, adoring.

“Are you kidding? There’s no better way to announce it than through Gigi,” he says with a wink. “Besides, I’m just happy the whole world knows that I have super sperm.”

You laugh despite yourself, shoving his shoulder playfully. “You’re impossible.”

“But you love me,” he counters, that infuriatingly irresistible grin stretching across his face.

“God help me, I do,” you sigh, melting into his embrace.

Georgia bounds over then, Maddox and Alexa in tow, her expression a mixture of exhilaration and uncertainty.

“Was I not supposed to tell, Mummy? Did I do something wrong?” She asks, her eyes wide and questioning.

You quickly kneel down, gathering all three children into your arms and peppering their faces with kisses.

“No, my darling, you didn’t do anything wrong. You just … surprised us, that’s all.” You share a look with Lando over their heads, a look that conveys a thousand words — your hopes, your dreams, your boundless love for this incredible little family you’ve created together.

Lando reaches down, ruffling Georgia’s curls with one hand while gently squeezing your shoulder with the other. A silent promise, a vow to always be by your side as you navigate the beautiful chaos of your life together.

Rising to your feet, you adjust Alexa on your hip and take Georgia’s small hand in your own. Maddox slips his hand into Lando’s, and you set off once more, the television crew long forgotten.

This is your life — a whirlwind of races and airports, photoshoots and interviews. But it’s also quiet nights cuddled on the sofa, re-watching Disney movies for the millionth time. It’s family hugs and sloppy baby kisses, skinned knees and endless giggles. It’s laundry piled to the ceiling and sleepless nights spent pacing the nursery.

It’s messy and magical, exhausting and exhilarating. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[rainydaydreamsideblog]

(The Maze Runner) Imagine: He Protects You

It can be dangerous, especially for the only girl in the Glade.

Warnings: Guys being creeps in the Glade (nothing graphic), bullying, the Maze, danger.

. . .Thomas. . .

It’s a beautiful evening in the Glade.  You’re walking straight along the treeline on your way to run a final errand for Alby at the end of the day.  The sun is no longer visible, as it already descended far enough to be blocked by the walls.

Suddenly, you get the creeps.  It was hard to explain, but you feel goosebumps bloom along your skin, and you get the distinct feeling that you’re not alone.  The lovely glow of the bonfire is in your field of vision, but it’s so far away. It’s where most of the guys are gathered.  You can hear their distant whoops and hollers, reminding you that help is far away too.

A twig snaps, and your suspicions are confirmed.  There’s a figure following several feet behind you, lurking in the shadows cast from the trees above.

So, you veer off your original path to draw closer to the homestead where there would hopefully be someone who hadn’t made it to the bonfire yet.  Whoever it was must have caught on to what you were doing because they instantly pick up their pace.  You begin to hurry, increasing your speed so that they can’t catch you before you make it to what you hope will be a haven of safety.

Your heart is pounding, and your chest heaving with panicked breaths as you finally make it to the homestead.  

“Hello?” you call frantically.  

Suddenly, Thomas appears.  He sees your nervous state immediately, his hand taking yours.  But then his eyes lock onto something behind you, and he moves right past you to intercept your pursuer, effectively blocking them from you.

“What’s going on?” he demands.  Your follower is frozen to the spot, stuttering, failing miserably to offer up some sort of explanation.  Thomas steps forward, towering over the guy.  It’s plain to see that he is furious.  His forearms flex and his jaw is clenched.  You can hear his angry breaths as he speaks again.  “That’s what I thought.  Now, get out of here.”

As soon as the guy is gone, Thomas turns around to face you.  His close presence eases your fearful state when he steps into your space, filling your nose with his scent. “You okay?” he asks gently.

You manage a nod.

“We’re going to tell Alby right away.  This isn’t going to happen to you again.  Come here…” He carefully pulls you into his arms for an embrace, as if you’ll break apart if he’s too sudden. You bury your face in his chest, breathing a sigh of relief.  His heartbeat is close to your ears, like a lullaby.

“Thank you…” you whispered.

. . . Newt . . .

You couldn’t take it anymore.

The teasing, the taunts… The inability of certain individuals to just leave you alone.  Ever since you’d rejected him, Allan had made it his life’s mission to make your existence in the Glade all the more difficult.

Most recently, he had purposely bumped into you at lunchtime so that your meal was spilled all over your clothes and onto the ground.  Resources were limited in the Glade.  It was understood that wastefulness wouldn’t be tolerated.  You couldn’t afford to lose food or have clothing ruined.  Fortunately, your clothes would be fine after a wash, but the discarded food was a different story.

You dab at your tank top with a washcloth and pause to look at your reflection in the mirror.  It was all too easy to recall how quickly you’d reached your limit after Allan’s ridiculous ploy.  Your face is still wet from crying, eyes puffy, and lips parted as you took deep breaths.

There’s no use crying over spilled milk, you thought. Or in my case, spilled lunch.

After composing yourself, you decide it’s time to go back out there and face the music. You toss the damp rag aside and march determinedly out of the empty washroom.  To your surprise, you smack right into another individual coming in.  You instantly recognize the blonde hair and grumbles of complaint as he reels from the collision.

“Oi, shank, watch where you’re going-”  Newt quickly realizes it’s you and clamps his mouth shut, extending his hands to each of your shoulders to steady you gently.  He takes in the sight of your tear-stained face with his eyes showing clear concern.  “Hey, what’s gotten into you?”

“Oh, just… Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Newt looks far from convinced, and you lower your gaze.  He’s about to inquire further, but a familiar voice sounds from outside the washroom.

“Hey, _______!” Allan calls tauntingly, making you freeze up.  “How’s it going in there?”

Newt’s eyes instantly flash, and his face scrunches up anger.  You can hardly believe it when Allan continues.

“Sorry about my clumsiness earlier.  Maybe I can make it up to you.  Come on out before I go in there!”

Newt can’t contain himself anymore.  He turns on his heel and heads out of the washroom, and you follow behind just to see the look on Allan’s face when he realizes he’s been caught.

It is so worth it.  Allan’s stupid grin falls hard into a look of horror as the Second-in-Command approaches him furiously.  He doesn’t lay a hand on him, but he looks like he’s awfully close when he jabs a pointer finger in his direction.

“If I ever catch you bothering her, or even breathing in her general direction again, you’ll be a permanent Slopper for the rest of your time here in the Glade.  Do you understand, shank?”

Allan nods quickly, and doesn’t even wait to be dismissed.  He just hurries away, leaving you and Newt both standing there watching him flee.

“Coward,” he mumbles.  Then, Newt turns to you, resting a hand on your arm in a comforting gesture.  “I mean it, you know.  He’ll never bother you again.”

. . . Minho . . .

It’s hard not to panic when you glance up and can no longer see the sun above you. It’s the end of the day, and you’re nearly out of time.  The lightning pain that shoots through your ankle suddenly just becomes too much.  You lean against one of the ivy-covered walls and exhale.

“I don’t think I’m going to make it,” you say aloud, and the words weigh heavily on you.  You mentally scold yourself.  You can’t afford to think that way.  A Runner knows better.  With a wince, you continue limping on your way.  It’s not that the exit from the Maze isn’t close.  If memory serves you right (which it did), it wasn’t too far at all… but at your pace, it would take a lot of effort and some good luck to get you back in time.

Just when you are about to give up again, you hear footsteps rapidly approaching.  Your first thought is that perhaps your cowardly companion had a change of heart, but the footsteps didn’t match.

“Hello?” you call.

“_________!” Minho’s voice responds, and your heart swells with hope.  You aren’t out of the woods just yet, but your chances were much better with help. Minho nearly slides to a stop in front of you, instantly taking your arm and putting it around his broad shoulders to help you up.  There is no time to stop and compare notes, so you update him as he begins helping you back along the path.

“I sprained my ankle.” You hold onto Minho like he’s your lifeline as you push through the pain to keep up with his pace.  He’s right to go so fast.  Time is running out.

“Where’s Derek?” he asks with a grunt.

“He…he left me,” you gasp in pain.  “I think he was worried he wouldn’t make it out in time if he helped me.”

Minho goes quiet for a moment, and you can practically feel the anger rolling off him in waves.  His eyes are focused straight ahead at the path, and he huffs.  Finally, he bites out a sarcastic comment. “I think it’s safe to say that he’s getting demoted from being a Runner.”

You keep talking, trying to distract the both of you from the familiar groan of the Maze walls shifting.  “Why did you come out here?”

“Because it was getting late in the day, and no one had seen you,” he pants.  “Usually, you check in with me right away.  I knew something had to be wrong.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

You continue limping with all your might toward the gate, feeling your heart jump, as the walls on either side begin their agonizingly slow crawl to a close.  There’s a small group standing on the other side, ushering you both out anxiously.  It was mostly Keepers, a select few who had been informed of the problem by Minho.

The two of you fell onto the green grass, gasping for breath, while the others surrounded you.  Alby knelt down beside you, resting a hand on your shoulder.  You just let yourself breathe, tears welling up in your eyes from relief.

“So it’s true?” Gally questioned, brows raised.  “Derek left her in there.” “Yes,” Minho replied, sitting up.  “And he will face the consequences.”  He looked over at you, finally catching his breath.  “You’re safe now.”

. . . Gally . . .

James had been haunting your steps for far too long.  He was always there, always hanging around, and sometimes showing up at the most alarming of instances.  What could be done about it?  It wasn’t as if he’d taken severe enough action to warrant disciplinary measures, you thought.  He was only ever seen staring at you, smirking, and just being an all-around jerk at times.

This time, he’d snatched your tools away from your working station while your back was turned. After uncovering a particularly tough old root, you turned around to get a spade to chop it up, only to see that your things were gone.

A few laughs caught your attention, and you glanced over to see James and one of his shadows standing there, staring at you from several feet away.  You couldn’t say for certain, but it seemed like they had something to do with your missing tools.

So, now you’re debating with yourself on the best course of action.  Do you ignore him and try to rustle up some extra tools from Newt or Zart?  Or do you bother to give this shank the attention he’s so desperately seeking to get your stuff back?

You don’t really like the latter option.  Frankly, James gives you the creeps. The last thing you want is to play his little game… But every minute that you spend deliberating is wasted time that could be put towards helping the Glade.

As much as you despise indulging him, you find yourself marching right over to his work area.  Both James and his minion are laughing in amusement, shoving each other at the sight of you approaching.

“Do you know where my tools went?” you ask, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“I might,” James replies cryptically.  “And I might be willing to strike up a bargain for that information.”

You fold your arms across your chest.  “What could you possibly want?”

“Ohh, I don’t know…Perhaps a kiss will do.”

You make a face as the disgust hits you.  “Seriously?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

“Yeah, that’s going to be a ‘no’ for me.”  You wave off the concept, turning around.  You decided that your best bet is to find some spare tools.  This just wasn’t worth all the trouble.  Just as you start to leave, James comes running around to block you.

“Hey now, I didn’t say you could go.”

“Yeah, you might want to think about his offer,” James’ lackey said from behind you.  The two of them close in, and you clench your fists in preparation to fight.  If you make enough commotion, you’re sure that someone will notice and come to your aid.

You give him one last chance.  “Let me pass.”

“Come on, just one kiss.  Unless you want more than one after that-” to your relief, James is cut off by a new voice interjecting.

“What’s going on here?” The three of you turn to see Gally standing there, sweating from whatever project he was working on,with dirt and wood shavings on his clothes.  His expression looks expectant as he waits for an explanation, though his tall and bulky form makes him appear positively dangerous as he stares the two guys down with his hands resting on his hips.

“I, uh.. We…”  They break off in stutters and fumbled words.

“I’m fairly certain they have my tools,” you say, and Gally’s famous arched brows raise at the two guys in disbelief.

“Is that so?” As Gally walks forward, he plants his palms harshly on James’ shoulder, shoving him clear out of the way. James stumbles unceremoniously, almost falling straight into the grass.  Gally walks over to the bench and pauses.  He picks up a bundle of leather and tosses it to you, the tools rattling inside.  “Are those yours?”

You recognize it immediately.  “Yes, these are the ones.”

“You shanks had better never even speak to her again.  Understand?” He stares at each of them pointedly with all the authority of a Keeper, and they both nod.  With that, Gally walks up to you and ushers you away with a warm, gentle hand on your back protectively.

“Your timing was impeccable,” you say quietly.  “Thank you.”

“They won’t bother you again.  I’ll make sure of it.”

“I think you already have,” you chuckle.

[kateschi]

by god, don't leave me

synopsis: in a heart-wrenching moment of despair, katsuki races through a hospital to find you, only to confront the devastating reality.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: have you noticed how much I love "where is my wife?" angst + major character death btw!!

katsuki’s heart pounds in his chest like it’s ready to explode. his legs push him forward, carrying him through the sterile, cold hallways of the hospital, each step echoing off the walls in a frantic, relentless rhythm.

“where is she?” his voice breaks through the silence, barely held together by a thread. “where is my wife?!”

the nurse at the counter starts to respond, her eyes filled with the kind of pity he can’t bear to see. his face contorts in desperation, and he doesn’t wait for her to explain.

he’s moving, his boots slamming against the floor, refusing to believe—refusing to even consider—that he might be too late.

another doctor, another nurse tries to intercept him, but he’s beyond hearing them. he pushes past, breaking into a sprint, his breath coming in gasps, wild and desperate.

when he reaches your room, it’s as if time stops.

there’s a stillness in the air that hits him like a punch to the gut. he stands there, gripping the doorframe, refusing to believe what he sees.

you’re lying in the bed, so quiet, so still. too still.

he stumbles to a halt, the sight of you stealing the last shred of breath he had left. you're lying there so still, too still.

the life that always seemed to burst out of you—the laughter, the warmth, the damn light—it’s all gone. all that’s left is your body, and that makes him furious, desperate, helpless.

“hey.” his voice trembles as he reaches for you, his hand hovering over your cheek before he finally touches it, cupping your face with fingers that shake uncontrollably.

the warmth he’s looking for isn’t there, the color gone from your skin. “come on,” he whispers, his voice barely a breath as his thumb traces your cheek. “come on, y/n, wake up.”

but you don’t respond.

he bites his lip hard, tasting blood, willing the agony to stop because he can’t let you go.

he’s gripping your shoulders now, his fingers sinking into you like he could hold you here, force you back to life by sheer will alone.

“you… you promised,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “you said we’d grow old together, remember? that we’d be those old, grumpy people who couldn’t stand anyone but each other.”

but there’s no answer, no gentle squeeze of his hand, no reassuring smile. just silence. he presses his lips to your forehead, his hands still cupping your face as if he can anchor you, hold you here with him just a little longer.

“you lied to me,” he murmurs, his voice trembling, harsh, as though he can will you back by sheer desperation. “you said you’d stay with me—no matter what. no matter what.”

katsuki's hands go slack, slipping from your face to the edge of the bed, where his knuckles press white into the mattress.

he stares, his mind refusing to process, searching for any sign that this is all some horrible, twisted joke.

for one unbearable, suspended moment, he almost expects you to stir, to open your eyes with that look that says he’s an idiot for worrying so much.

but there’s nothing. just the faint beep of machines, the sterile scent of antiseptic, the steady ache that presses harder and harder against his ribs, hollowing him out with each passing second.

his fingers curl against the sheets as a tremor runs through him, his breath hitching violently. memories flood in unbidden—moments he thought he’d have time to revisit someday.

how you’d laugh and shake your head when he’d scowl over some trivial thing. how you’d tuck yourself into his side on quiet mornings, your hand pressed against his chest, the sound of your breathing steady against his heartbeat.

katsuki feels his throat tighten as he leans down, forehead pressing against the coolness of your hand.

"we had a whole life planned out," he whispers, voice breaking.

“remember? we’d find that crappy house by the beach, fix it up, make it ours. you were gonna paint the walls bright colors, and I was gonna complain and pretend I hated it."

he lets out a jagged breath, eyes clenching shut as his shoulders shake, the reality tearing through him in waves.

this wasn’t supposed to be how it ended. there was supposed to be more—more days, more late nights, more everything.

“I don’t…” he struggles, voice barely more than a broken rasp, “I don’t want to do this without you.” the words slip out, hollow, stripped of all the fire he’s ever had, leaving nothing but the raw ache underneath.

he presses his face into the crook of your neck, searching for any hint of the warmth that was once there, anything to hold onto, but it’s gone.

and it hits him, like the ground crumbling from under his feet, that you’re really not coming back.

the weight of all he’s lost crashes into him. he thinks of the arguments that meant nothing now, all the times he’d leave you with a brusque goodbye, figuring he’d make it up to you later.

how you’d roll your eyes at his stubborn pride, laughing at how he’d scowl at affection in public yet draw you close the moment he thought no one was watching.

he’d do anything to take it all back, just to hold you again, to let you know he’d trade every bit of strength, every scrap of pride if it meant you’d be here, laughing at him, calling him out on his nonsense.

he doesn’t notice the tears streaking down his face as he stares at you, the silence so absolute it feels like it’s burying him.

the room feels colder now, like the world has shifted on its axis, taking you with it.

for a moment, he wonders if he can even go back to the life you both shared; if he can return to the apartment filled with pieces of you in every room, every corner.

katsuki’s shoulders sag under the crushing weight of it all, fingers curling around the edge of the bed as he takes a shuddering breath. he wants to scream, rage, curse the universe for being so damn unfair.

but all he can manage is a broken whisper. “I should have told you more… should have said it every day. you’d have laughed at me, said I was going—soft.”

he gathers you closer, pressing your body against his own as he begins to sway, rocking gently back and forth as though he can somehow soothe the emptiness inside him.

his chest shakes, the first tears slipping down silently, but then they come harder, a ragged sob tearing from his throat as he buries his face in your neck.

“I love you…” the words escape in a cracked whisper, his breath hitching as he clings to you, his grip tightening, desperate.

“I love you… I love you…” he murmurs, his voice breaking more with each word.

his tears fall faster, his breath coming in shuddering gasps, as if the weight of those words—the words he can never say to you again—is too much to bear.

“I love you,” he chokes out, each syllable fractured, his body trembling as he holds you closer, his tears soaking your shoulder.

his heart shatters all over again with every whispered confession, until he’s clutching you so tightly it hurts, his sobs growing louder, rawer, until he’s left gasping, brokenly repeating, “I love you—I love you, y/n—so much.”

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[skzdarlings]

the rescue ; skz; aotm!hyunjin x reader

original ask: requested by @tattywood: ❛ i'm simply enjoying the view. it's not every day i get to fuck someone so pretty. ❜ would 100000% fit Hyunjin 🩶 + requested by anonymous: ❛ you're mine, and i take care of what belongs to me. ❜ with hyunjin? thank you

pairing: hwang hyunjin/reader content info: artist of the month!hyunjin was inspo here. gangster stuff, reader has been kidnapped and is in a see through nightdress, most violence off page though, bad guy hyunjin who is actually a good guy, arranged marriage, multiple smut scenes, not great communication but gets better lol. smut includes fingering, blow jobs, pussy eating, piv, spanking, light choking, husband/wife kink. word count: 6300 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy! <3

-

“I’ve already explained,” you say, equal parts frustrated and exhausted.  “My husband isn’t coming for me.” 

The gangster cronies still don’t seem to understand.  You are tied to a chair in their basement (because they are preposterously corny goons, tying you up like a comically silly damsel in a ridiculous film) while they berate you for your husband’s tardiness.    

You have tried explaining, over and over, that Hyunjin is not coming, but they won’t accept that answer.  The fools try in vain to reach him again, but his line leads straight to a dial tone. 

He went radio silent after the initial video contact, when your captors demanded a price for your healthy return. 

Hyunjin was quiet on the call.  Your husband is a quiet man in general, though he knows how to use his charms and work a room, and he has certainly perfected the art of severe intimidation.  When your marriage was arranged, one mob family to the other, you mistakenly assumed you were marrying a monster. 

Hyunjin is very reserved when not conducting business.  He doesn’t engage in any of the more debauched sides of the business, unlike the men in your family.  Evenings at home are silent and still, the penthouse view of the glittering cityscape the only real bustle. 

Maybe that shouldn’t have surprised you.  When he took over his family’s business, Hyunjin altered a lot of their practices, cutting the crueler sectors, opting for illicit crimes of more practical varieties. 

The country is in a political chokehold, government affairs conducted none too differently from the criminal underworld.  The cops are all dirty, the politicians corrupt, the wealthy depraved.  Hyunjin has taken it upon himself to alleviate the pressure suffered by the regular people, the civilians who truly pay the price of a broken system.

In a world with no good guys, sometimes only villains can be heroes.    

You think of his face now, how he certainly looked the part of a villain on the video call.  Hyunjin has a very austere demeanour, exacerbated by his severe appearance: sharp marble features and dark, vicious eyes often further darkened with heavy lining, sleek black hair, scattered scars and tattoos, and the sort of regard that judges at a glance.  He is young, but he has the air of a man who has already traversed the universe and found it wanting.       

You think of his face now, the silent perusal he gave your bound body on that video call.  You are dressed in your favourite nightgown, your underthings partially visible through the light material, but it was not willingly donned.   At the time of your kidnapping, you were attired appropriately for the wealthy wife of a famous gangster.  You were returning from a family visit when your captors intercepted you in transit from the airport. 

Either to intimidate or threaten or just because they could, they made you remove all your jewelry and fine clothes.  They rifled through your luggage and demanded you change into the nightgown. 

Hyunjin recognized the nightdress, realized you must have been stripped, and likely inferred the very worst. 

“Address,” was the only word Hyunjin said.   He ended the call seconds later.    

“Oh, he’ll come,” your captor says.  He points at you with a hand that feels more threatening than a knife.  It makes your terrified heart leap into your throat.  “Or else.” 

“He won’t, though!” you exclaim.  “You’re wasting your time!”

They are not listening.  They leave the basement, slamming the door behind them.

You huff and settle back in your bonds. 

It is only a matter of time before they realize you are telling the truth.  Hyunjin will not waste the money or resources to rescue you.  He has always been respectful of the marriage arrangement, but your husband is not sentimental.  There is a professional distance between you.  His decision will be based in the logic of all his strategies: nothing personal, just a matter of business. 

You sometimes see a different side of him, something buried under that quiet intensity.  He collects fine art and spends hours poring over his favourite pieces, listening to music, losing himself to artistic fantasies.  He always comes back, but you know there are other worlds in his mind. 

Every attempt to bridge the gap has been gently rebuffed, but there have been moments when your husband seems curious about you.  You often catch him staring.  He gets a wistful look that softens his face, even with that shield of make-up.  His eyes are gentle when you talk about your passions.  You never let his quietude deter your friendly penchant for chatter.   He seems more than content to listen.  He remembers everything too. 

You know he finds you attractive, if nothing else.  He has caved on that front several times over, though not right away.  He didn’t touch you on the wedding night, nor the honeymoon.  He left your beach holiday early to return to business, leaving you in a villa with security and his credit card.  It was the first time you realized the material world was no replacement for true companionship.  You missed his dark eyes.

Your family also had expectations.  There would be consequences if the marriage fell through.  You would be blamed, not him.  Worried he would renege on the nuptials, you did everything to try and seduce him. 

He politely rejected you at every turn. 

Just when you were resigned, he arrived home after a job.  It was almost three in the morning when he entered the penthouse.  You have separate bedrooms but they share a connecting bathroom.  You could hear him cursing above the running water. 

You only meant to peek.  The sliding door on your side was partially ajar so you tip-toed over. 

Hyunjin was standing in front of the mirror, shirtless, pressing a rag to his wounded shoulder.  There was a mess of blood streaked down his back, making you gasp at the terrible mosaic of pain, his body littered with violent scars. 

That gasp contained multitudes, for the horror, for his beauty.  His dark eyes were as severely lined as ever, expression intense as he breathed hard through the pain.  Smooth black hair fell across his face when he tipped his head. 

He froze at the sound of your gasp.  His turn was very slow, eyes peeking through the curtain of his short hair.  They captured yours.   

You held your breath. 

Eventually, he straightened, flicking his hair out of his face.  He looked in the mirror and sighed.    

“You can come in,” he said.   “This is your home too.” 

You slid the door open, just enough to squeeze through.  Your attention was utterly transfixed on his bleeding shoulder.  You could see the wound was a thin stripe.  It was not deep so stitches were not necessary, but it was slightly out of his reach as it sloped towards his back.

“Oh, Hyunjin,” you said, thoughtlessly taking the rag right out of his hands.    

In spite of the violence that raised you, or maybe because of it, you can’t stand to see suffering.   You and Hyunjin have had that in common from the start.  You were quick to help him clean the wound, wordlessly wiping all the blood then applying cream across the clotted cut. 

He flinched when the stinging cream made contact.  You went to apologize but your words evaporated when your eyes met through the mirror.  You were surprised to find him already looking at you, that expressive gaze as thoughtful as ever. 

“How did this happen?” you couldn’t help but ask, eyes rivetted to his reflection.   “You – you have people to protect you.”  You managed to rip your gaze away, looking at your task, feeling hot in the face. 

“I do,” he said.  “But I’d never ask someone to do something I’m not willing to do myself.” 

This did not surprise you to hear.   It is obvious that Hyunjin cares very deeply about the wellbeing of other people.  It is a fact known to few.  It aggravates you at times, but his reputation does not seem to bother him.  He would rather people think him a monster while he secretly does good rather than be praised in public while cruel in private. 

You have never known another man like him.  Looking at that scar that night, the realization truly struck you. 

Your fingers began to tremble where they brushed his bare skin, your eyes widening as you looked at the scar and many others.  If something happened to him, what would become of you?  Certainly, as his widow, you would be financially sound, but what did that matter?  This world would lose something irreplaceable if it lost Hwang Hyunjin.  This penthouse could be brimming with silver and gold and it would be empty, worthless. 

Tears in your eyes, you succumbed to desire, kissing him very gently on his hurt shoulder. 

“Hyunjin,” you said, your eyes closed, lips grazing his skin as you spoke.  “Please make sure you always come home, okay?” 

He did not answer at first.  When you lifted your eyes and looked in the mirror, those dark eyes were so enflamed that you were surprised nothing caught fire. 

“Hyunjin?” you said softly.   

“You mean that,” he said, not quite a question, more like a realization. 

“Of course,” you replied. You looked at his scarred back again, let your fingertips brush down the length of his spine.  It made him stand a little straighter.  “Have you ever known me to lie?” you asked. 

He finally turned around, looking at you with an long-engrained wariness, but also a hunger.  He was a starving man presented with a banquet, but one who did not easily trust when sitting at someone else’s table. 

“You’re a smart woman,” he said.  “I know that.  And I know that you’re – good.” 

Good was an exhale, like the word was too heavy for his tongue.  You realized that his wariness was less suspicion for you than hesitation regarding himself.  He was only starving because he though himself undeserving of the meal he wanted. 

“You’ve seen – and done – many bad things tonight, haven’t you?” you asked. 

Having the full force of his gaze was overwhelmingly heady.  You remember how it made your heart race like you were being chased, your breath catching over and over until you were almost panting. 

Arousal struck quickly, a sensation like you never experienced before.  You thought you understood attraction, but not until that moment when he released a breath, so close to your face, and you became truly aware of his proximity.   Of him, of all that he was, all that he did.  His character, his hidden depths.

Your husband. 

It made your racing heart thunder something fierce, your blood pumping hotly, throbbing places you did not know were so sensitive. 

You desperately wondered what was on his mind.  The gears in his head were spinning and whirring, delaying his response.  Was he feeling the same tension?  Were his thoughts the same realization?

 My wife.  

“Yes,” he finally said. 

“Is there something I can do to help?” you asked.

His tattooed hand cupped your head, tilting it just so.  It made your lips part with a gasp, eyelids heavy with anticipation for a kiss. 

He took his time looking at you, like he was scrubbing all those bad memories away, replacing them with the flustered look on his aroused wife’s face. 

“Yes,” he said again, and kissed you for the first time. 

You were so glad he rebuffed your previous half-hearted advances, clumsy seductions made out of obligation rather than desire.  It was so different to that kiss.  You would not have known how to even ask for a kiss like that.  You never knew what you were missing. 

Your quiet husband and his multitudes.  All that simmering intensity, hot just below the surface of his icy demeanour, burned right through his skin.  His kiss was ravishing, entirely possessive, like he wished to take your whole essence into him and hold it forever. 

He walked you backwards.  With a snap of his wrist, he slid the door open the rest of the way, so sharp that it tried to bounce back.  He continued onward, kissing you until you were dizzy with it.   

He picked you up just to put you on the bed himself.  Your kiss separated only then as you landed with a bounce and a breath. 

He loomed over the edge of the bed, this man who was both stranger and husband, hero and villain.   He looked at you like he already loved you.  He looked at you and saw the reciprocation.  You had fallen for him without realizing you had ever even stumbled. 

He ran his hands through his hair, the sleek black locks fluttering back into place.  His eyes were still rivetted to your face, to your body.  You were wearing the nightdress you are wearing now.  It is why it became your favourite. 

He looked down at you, the material translucent enough to see the details of your body.   It broke through that last layer of ice.  He surrendered with a choked breath. 

He unclasped a holster on his thigh, dropped a knife that was hidden in a pocket.   Once unarmed, his hands went to his belt.  You watched those nimble, efficient fingers, swallowing hard.   You were aching to an embarrassing degree, undoubtedly obvious in your desires.  No one ever warned you it would feel like this, just being looked at, never mind touched.

Then his belt was on the floor and he touchedyou for real.   His calloused hands moved up your thighs, pushing the nightdress up and out of his way.  He climbed on top of you, swift as a feline, mouth descending onto yours with that same desperate hunger as before. 

Recollection makes you crave another kiss.   You think you will always be starving for more. 

“Hyunjin,” you whispered, hands on his face, his shoulders, down to his chest. 

He took your hands and laced your fingers with his, pinning those hands to the bed.   He kissed you again, long and slow.  It was all more sensual than desperate.

His voice, however, was desperate when he begged, “Let me make you feel good, please.”  He kissed down your face, your jaw, your throat.  “Please, my wife.”  He kissed further down still, through your nightdress, tracing the curve of your breast with his tongue, wetting the material and awakening every nerve beneath it.   “My wife,” he repeated. 

“My husband.”  The words left your lips in a dizzy, delirious whisper.   

It was all the confirmation he needed.  Those deft and skilled hands, so quick to assemble weapons and pull triggers, applied themselves with a startling gentleness.  He took you apart and put you together with the same efficient ease.   

He hooked his fingers in the only material between him and his desire, tugged it out of his way.  His fingers went to you, slipping through all that wetness.  Those intense eyes rolled back even though it was just his fingers inside you, then he closed his eyes like it was too much, and it seemed he had to temper himself, murmuring nonsense as he let his fingers sink into you. 

He kissed you again, drinking down every sigh and gasp and moan while he fucked you with his long fingers.  It was like he could taste your pleasure, like he was trying to get drunk on it, every noise you made filling his mouth.  He gave them back and brought you over a peak, first with his hands, then with his mouth.  He laid between your legs and put your thighs around his head, losing himself entirely in you. 

He did not remove a single article of your clothing nor his pants, not that first time.  He simply held the material to the side as he unzipped and finally got inside you.  It made your whole body keen, coming to life like it never had before.  You forgot all your sensibilities and let every wanton sound and action loose.

He responded in kind.  His kiss tasted like your pleasure, his heart pounding as fast as yours where your chests pressed together.  You were careful near his injured shoulder, fingertips dodging scars.  Your soft touch made him whimper, this powerful man entirely undone by a few caresses. 

His skin was hot and he worked up a sweat, but his stamina seemed endless.  He always wanted more. 

You fell asleep tucked in his arms, content to believe the walls had crumbled.   However, they revealed themselves in the morning light, as concrete as ever.  He slipped away and left a note to excuse his absence as he was called away to business.   You thought about phoning or messaging him, but those lines were not always secure, not for such intimate conversations. 

When he returned a few days later, he hid behind those concrete walls, but too much had changed.  There was now an awareness of your proximity and your distance.  The lack of intimacy was not called into question before, the absence of something being a nothing.  But now that nothing was something, or had been something for a moment, and it made you both very aware of how it was now missing – and anticipating always when it might again appear.

He tried very hard to keep away, to stay cordial at best, his habitual quietude even heavier than before.  But while his silence was significant, so was his glance.  Every time you turned around, he was already looking at you, a longing in his eyes and a thought on his lips that he never dared to speak aloud. 

You granted him some distance for a time.  When it became abundantly obvious he was holding himself in check, you realized that your own vulnerability was required to bridge the gap. 

One night you crossed through the bathroom, slid open the door on his side.  You found him at his desk, dressed down in a white dress shirt and pants.  His blazer was discarded on the floor, his face still made up. 

He stood quickly when you entered, though he didn’t say anything. 

It was strange to imagine this man would need any reassurance, but you felt that was the case.   His fingers fidgeted at his sides, his roving eyes studious.

You said nothing.  You approached him, laid your hands on his chest, and gently guided him back into his chair.  He sat slowly, his eyes on your face the entire time, even when he had to tip his head back to peer up at you. 

You ran your fingers through his hair.  When you entered the room, his face was tightly screwed in an expression of aggravation, but all those harsh lines softened as you traced a thumb down the sharp slope of his cheek. 

There were some wipes on his desk.  You took one and began to carefully remove that shield of dark make-up.  His hand lifted but not to stop you, simply to rest his palm on your waist.  He began to really touch you, feeling the shape of your body through your robe as you helped him come back to himself. 

“Hello,” you finally said, looking at his bare face.  Still impossibly beautiful.

“Hello,” he replied. 

His fingertips dipped towards the hem of the robe.  Before he could distract you with your own pleasure, you sunk to your knees in front of him.  This startled him, his hand frozen in the air as you fit yourself between his open knees. 

He caught your hand, his reflexes fast, before it could reach his fly.   You could see he was already affected, a heavy bulge in the black material making your mouth water and core tighten. 

He squeezed your hand and you looked up at his face.   He tipped his head, blinked rapidly, an expression of mild confusion.

You took your hand back and unknotted your robe.  The silk fell from your shoulders and down, sliding like water right off your body.  You were completedly naked underneath. 

It clarified everything, his confusion gone, replaced with surprise.

“You—” he began.  It was interrupted when you put your head in his lap, resting on his thigh.  You led his hand to the back of your neck and kissed him through his pants.  It made his fingers clasp tighter around you.  

“Please,” you said. 

He would never deny you anything.  Not the smallest gift nor grandest gesture.  When you started a new charity to further your combined philanthropic efforts, he spared no expense in aiding the endeavour.  You shared passions, and now you shared this.

He was stiff at the start, but gradually let himself go lax in his seat.  His hand kept a steady grip on the back of your neck, not guiding but holding, like he thought you might disappear otherwise.  He murmured your name, letting his head fall back as you worked him in your mouth. 

You intended to make him finish like that, seeking nothing for yourself at that precise moment.  He had other ideas, needing more of your shared pleasure to take him over that brink. 

He lifted your face, adjusted his pants, and was on his feet in a matter of seconds.  That hand on your neck dragged you up, up, up until your naked body was pressed against his clothed one.  He clung to you needily, claiming your mouth in a wanting kiss. 

His hands moved over you, every new inch of skin making him moan as he walked you towards the bed.  The kiss only broke when you both sat down, his lips against yours as he breathed, almost smiling, “My pretty wife.”

“Hyunjin,” you said, shaking your head, feeling suddenly shy just because of a simple compliment. 

He did not allow you to curl into yourself with any shame.  When you tried, he seized you, pulling you onto his lap so you straddled it.   His eyes moved up and down your body, hands following, from your thighs to hips to waist and up. 

 “What are you doing?” you said, laughing helplessly when he kissed somewhere ticklish on your throat.  The sound made him smile, even softer than before, though it turned a little wicked as his mouth went lower. 

“I’m simply enjoying the view,” he said, then wrapped his lips around the stiff peak of your breast, ran his tongue up and over.  He licked and kissed back up to your mouth.   “It’s not everyday I get to fuck someone so pretty.” 

As he said this, he opened his pants again, eyes on yours as he grabbed your thighs and moved you so he could thrust up into you.  His hips moved with a slow roll, letting you adjust to him.  It had been a little while, and this angle was different.

And Hyunjin is not small.  Your husband is built in perfect proportion, his body a long, hard, slender build – everything inside you at that moment was no exception.   This angle made you whimper, clinging to him like  he was a life preserver in a storm.  The roll of his hips kept coming like waves and you were sure you would drown otherwise. 

Your arms were around his neck, his graceful but strong hands digging into the meat of your thighs as he fucked you.  He felt impossibly deep, every upward stroke feeling like it was bursting past something, pushing everything inside your body up to your throat. 

You swallowed again and again, the taste of him still on your lips, the feel of him inside every inch of you.  You clenched and tightened involuntarily, just pure animal reaction, and it made him moan and find all those sweet spots to make it happen again.    

“Help,” was your somewhat nonsensical request, blurted in the midst of some moaning babbling.

Fortunately, he was and is a smart man.  He understood.  He clasped you tight to his body and fell back on the bed, thrusting up into you with sharper, more focussed determination, faster until you were weeping on his chest, delirious with pleasure.  His shirt was unbuttoned and you accidentally ripped a few buttons right off, trying to press your face to bare skin. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you said as you tumbled over a height you never reached before.  You never knew you could come just from that, stimulated somewhere so deep inside you, but it made you come undone in his arms. 

He watched you unravel and it made him follow, clinging to you as he just barely pulled out before coming between your dripping thighs.  It was all so messy and wet, your legs trembling, but it felt so good that it hardly mattered. 

He caught his breath, then looked at your face just lose that breath again.  He moaned and dragged you in for another kiss.

Then you were on your back, the night far from over. 

That second night is the one that truly opened the door to more.  Though your husband can be reticent in other regards, he is not quiet when he is inside you.  You have come together again and again, a conversation with your bodies as you look for pleasure in a dangerous world.   You always find it, tucked in the protective circle of his arms, wrapped around every inch of him. 

You have been out of his arms for too long.  Your visit to your family grew tedious before long.  Your home is with Hyunjin now and you were eager to return. 

Now it seems you may never see it again.  You may never see him again. 

No.

Just like the night when you took control for yourself, you must take control now.  You realize if anything is to happen, then you must take the reins of your own rescue.  You would not want Hyunjin to compromise himself or his important business.  You know if something bad happened to you, it would weigh on his conscious, even if it was the better business decision.  You must eliminate the need for choice. 

It turns out, comical rope bindings are truly best suited for silly movies.  When the men come to check on you again, you have slipped free of your bindings.  There was an array of weapons in the room, so carelessly disposed because the assailants never assumed you would get free – or, if you did get free, that you would not know how to use them. 

It is true, you do not like violence. 

That does not mean you do not understand it. 

You leave the two men unconscious in their basement.  Unfortunately, you cannot find your suitcase and you do not want to hang around, so you venture outside in your nightgown.  You are debating your next move when a car pulls into the driveway. 

You back away quickly, raising the gun you stole as more men get out of the vehicle.  You only stay your hand because you recognize one of them, though it takes a second to place him as one of Hyunjin’s lieutenants. 

Then Hyunjin emerges.   You have seen your husband before and after a confrontation, but never during it.  If you thought he was an intimidating figure in the aftermath, he is all danger and darkness as he storms up the driveway now.   There is such an energy radiating from him, it makes you stumble and forget yourself entirely. 

Then he stumbles, recognizing you.  You are both startled, staring at each other with the gun raised between you. 

He looks nowhere but your eyes. 

“Hyunjin?” you finally say. 

“I—”  He looks at you, the gun, the nightdress.  He shakes his head.  Some of that bravado returns when he says, “I’m here to save you.”

“Ah,” you say.  You slowly lower the gun, at a loss how to reply.  You were so resigned to the idea this was all still business.  The reality of your husband risking himself to rescue you from unknown hostiles is making your heart pound.  

In the end, all you can think to say is, “Sorry.  You’re late.” 

That wicked smile crosses his face, his tongue pushing at the corner of his mouth.  He is suddenly nothing but amused, looking at you, then at the house.

“I can see that,” he says. 

He whistles sharply and gestures to the house with a gloved hand.  His lieutenants run past you and charge the door, no doubt heading inside to finish the job you started.        

You turn to watch them go.  In your distraction, Hyunjin grabs your arm.  He is fast, effectively disarming you.  He catches the gun with a twirl before tossing it aside.

It is not the gun he wants; it’s you.

Still holding your wrist, he tugs you into him.  You throw your arms around him.  The hug is surprisingly chaste, his face in your neck as he squeezes you like it is the only thing keeping him alive and standing.

“Are you hurt?” he asks. 

When in his arms, it seems impossible to consider you could ever feel any pain. 

You shake your head, daring to kiss his cheek.  He turns his face to yours, your lips close enough to brush in a swipe. 

“I’m all right now,” you say.  “Sorry I beat you to the punch.  I – I wasn’t sure if—”

His brow crinkles.  That gloved hand goes from your wrist to your chin, seizing it between thumb and forefinger.  He tips your head so he can look at your face.  He always regards you like he does one of his masterpieces, like he can never get his fill, like there is always something new to find.  He is enchanted every time. 

“You’re mine,” he says.  “And I take care of what belongs to me.” 

You gasp when those fingers go from your chin to your throat, just enough to pull you in that last breath of a space.  He kisses you there in the sunlight, utterly shameless. 

“Do not ever doubt that,” he says.  His eyes are soft with his affection, but his voice is hard, skirting the edge of a threat he would issue an adversary.  It makes you tingle from head to toe.  “Do I need to remind you?” 

You never actually answer.  You are not sure if your answer would have made a difference, as Hyunjin is determined to show you the very second you are home. 

You reach the penthouse. There is no time to shower or decompress once you cross the threshhold.  He sweeps you off your feet, your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist.  You are wearing his blazer over your nightdress to preserve your modesty – not that it will last long.

He carries you to the bedroom where so many slow and subtle exchanges took place.  Now, he is not slow or subtle.  He is a force of nature.   He tells you that he held no greater fear than losing you and he tried to keep his distance, but he regretted it the moment he saw you on that video call. 

“You’re my wife,” he says, peeling his blazer off your body.  “I’m your husband.  There is nothing I should be holding back.” 

“Yes,” you say, running your fingers through that smooth black hair.  You shiver as he bunches the fabric of your nightdress, the material spilling over his fingers.   “Don’t hold back,” you say, mouth open against his, stealing his every breath.   “Do whatever you want.” 

He tells you exactly what he wants, using his words for a change, finally letting those walls come down.  He whispers every filthy thought into your ear, between kisses, between bites.   You shiver at every suggestion. 

And so, moments later, he is sitting on your bed.  He arranges you to lay across his lap, facedown in the pillows while he runs his hands down your spine and over the curve of your ass. 

“You’re my wife,” he says.  The first tap of his open palm is through the thin material of your nightdress.  It is truly just a warning tap, just enough to make you bounce.  “Don’t ever doubt me again,” he says, swinging that strong hand a little harder.  

This time a yelp escapes your lips.  You wriggle until he pins you down, a hand on the back of your neck and the other lifting your dress.   He already stripped your underthings, his open palm smoothing down all that bare skin.  

You tingle with anticipation, braced yet still unprepared for the sharp smack he next delivers.  You feel it tingle all the way up to your head, as well as the next one, and the next.   You squirm under his firm grip, groaning his name as your thighs get tense and press together. 

“Don’t say my name,” he says, and smacks you again.  “Who am I?”

“M-my husband,” you say, practically mewling like a kitten when he next brings his hand down.  “My husband,” you say again. 

“And you are—”

“Your wife,” you say, though it comes out almost like a sob, a desperate gasp as he slips his fingers between your thighs and finds a new way to torture you.   With your backside hot and stinging, the pleasure of his hand in that sensitive place feels amplified by a tenfold. 

“Husband,” you say, hips bucking.  His free hand goes from the back of your neck to your lower spine, holding you in his lap as he slowly finger-fucks you.

“Yes?” he says.

You do not even remember what you were going to say, or beg, or plead.  You are overcome with sensation, tingling all over, intensifying the press of his fingers as he curls his fingers into that soft, soft place.  Then you are really squirming, helplessly, instinctively, whining into the pillows. 

“I make you feel good,” he says.  “I take care of you.  You, who are so good, and so smart, but so—”

You cry out when he angles his hand just a little differently.  Your vision swims with stars as he speeds up. 

“So soft,” he says, his own voice going soft, just a whisper as he makes you come all over his hand in a throbbing, aching, desperate wet mess.  “Just for me,” he says in that whisper.  “Just for your husband.” 

“Mmmf,” is all the response you have left in you. 

Your thighs are trembling and your pussy throbbing with aftershocks when he picks you up.  He stands and turns, laying you on your side in the bed.  You are grateful, as your backside still stings, though you suspect he is not done yet.

He strips out of his clothes, tearing through his shirt, leaving the pants in a heap.  He forgets to remove his necklace.  All that silver is cold against your hot skin as he lays down behind you.   You do not have time to linger on it, as he gathers up the hem of your dress and adjusts himself behind you. 

He has taken you many times, in many ways, many positions.   When you are on your hands and knees, he is overtaken by a primal urge, your hips as leverage in his hands as he pounds into you like it is a chase.   When you are on your back, he sinks into you slowly and deeply, rocking his hips into yours like he intends to fuck you forever.  When you are in his lap, he rolls his hips in steady, needy waves, captivated by the sight of you in his arms. 

He lays behind you now and wraps his arms around you, coaxes your thighs apart.  Your nightdress is bunched every which way, leaving nothing to the imagination, and you feel especially exposed and vulnerable in this position somehow.  Perhaps it is the fact he is the one holding you open, keeping you in position so he can take you.

You let yourself fall into it, fall into him.  You let him tell you, with words and actions, exactly how he feels. 

Before it ends, you change position.  He lays back and you straddle his hips while stripping off your dress entirely.  He keeps rolling up into you, only stopping when you plant your hands on his chest to slow him down.  Then he practically sinks in the mattress, murmuring your name.  His make-up is smudged, his calloused hands rough on your body.  Whatever pains you experienced have been overtaken by his hands, by the smarting on your backside, still tender as you bring your body down onto his again and again.  He has completely claimed you for himself and you take the same in turn. 

“Hyunjin,” you say.  “My husband, oh—”

He kisses your hand, long and hard, like he needs his mouth on some part of you desperately.  Your fingers are curled into his pretty mouth when he comes, his hands on your hips and his cock buried inside you. 

“Oh,” is your final sound before you slump on top of him, skin to skin. 

He rolls you onto your side, though he keeps you wrapped around him, his arms around you in turn.  His hair is already a sweaty mess and you rub your thumb through some of his shadowy make-up, but those familiar dark eyes are gazing at you with so much warmth.   There is no more ice, no more cold concrete. 

“I should let you rescue me more often,” you say with a laugh. 

He doesn’t laugh back, but he does smile softly.  It should be incongruous with his severe appearance, but it somehow comes together, layers of him exposed all at once as he strokes your cheek.

He looks at you like his favourite work of art. 

“You were the one who rescued you,” he says.   “Just like you rescued me.” 

You cannot find the words to reply, so you kiss him.  It speaks volumes, and he replies, kissing back. 

You lose yourself to the sweetness, to the heat, to the passion, to all those things more, knowing there are many more to come with this man as your husband. 

[misswynters]

A Stark’s Fury

Cregan Stark x targ!wife! reader

[warning: blood, you getting cut in the arm

[synopsis: You are the wife of Cregan and younger sister of rhaenyra. You get cut in the arm and your son, Eddard, also gets hurt. Which makes cregan furious.

[note | here’s a lil something while i write the final chapter for winters embrace, just a short drabble :) also instead of rhae getting cut it’s you.

[requested: by anon

The sun dipped low over the horizon, casting an amber glow across Driftmark. Laena Velaryon’s funeral was a somber affair, filled with the mournful silence of the assembled nobles and the soft lapping of waves against the shore. Among the gathered were you, the younger sister of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, your husband Cregan Stark, and your son Eddard, who clung to your skirts, his wide eyes taking in the solemnity of the occasion.

Your silver hair flowed down your back, and your violet eyes glistened with unshed tears as you stood beside Cregan. His strong arm encircled your waist, offering silent support. Despite the warmth of the setting sun, a chill hung in the air, a reflection of the grief that weighed heavily on your hearts.

As the ceremony proceeded, you noticed the tension simmering among the children. Your son, Eddard, stood with Jace, Luke, Baela, and Rhaena, trying to comfort them in their shared sorrow. Your heart ached for them, especially for Rhaena, who had just lost her mother.

When the time came for the family to pay their final respects, you and Cregan approached the bier. You whispered a prayer for Laena’s soul, your voice barely audible over the sound of the crashing waves. Cregan squeezed your hand gently, his presence a solid rock amidst the turbulent sea of emotions.

After the funeral, you found yourself in the grand hall, where the tension between the Blacks and the Greens was palpable. You kept a watchful eye on Eddard, who was playing with the other children. However, the peace was shattered when a scuffle broke out between Aemond and Jace. The sight of Aemond taunting Jace, and the resulting fight, sent a shockwave through the hall.

Eddard tried to intervene, but in the chaos, he was struck and fell to the ground, crying out in pain. You rushed to his side, your heart pounding with fear and anger. Cregan was by your side in an instant, his protective instincts flaring as he assessed the situation.

“What happened?” he demanded, his voice a low growl.

“Aemond taunted Jace, and then the fight started,” you explained, your voice trembling with emotion as you cradled Eddard.

Cregan’s eyes darkened with anger. “This has gone too far.”

The confrontation escalated when Alicent Hightower, her face twisted with rage, advanced on Rhaenyra, who was defending her sons. You stepped between them, trying to defuse the situation, but Alicent’s fury was uncontrollable. She drew a knife, lunging at Rhaenyra, but you intercepted the blow.

The blade sliced across your arm, and you cried out in pain, clutching the wound. Cregan’s roar of fury echoed through the hall as he moved to shield you. He grabbed the knife from Alicent’s hand, his face a mask of rage.

“Enough!” he bellowed. “This madness ends now!”

King Viserys, looking frail and distressed, tried to intervene. “Peace! There must be peace!”

Cregan turned on the king, his eyes blazing. “Peace? Look at what your family has done! My wife is injured, my son is hurt, and for what? Petty squabbles and insults?”

Rhaenyra, tears streaming down her face, reached for you. “Sister, I’m so sorry.”

You managed a weak smile, despite the pain. “It’s not your fault, Rhaenyra. But something must change.”

As the maesters attended to your wound, Cregan kept a protective arm around you. He glared at the Greens, making it clear that any further aggression would not be tolerated. The hall was filled with a tense silence, the air thick with unspoken threats and unresolved grievances.

In the aftermath, Cregan insisted on returning to Winterfell with you and Eddard. “We’ll be safer there,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “I won’t risk your lives any longer.”

You nodded, grateful for his unwavering support. “Thank you, Cregan.”

He kissed your forehead, his lips warm against your cool skin. “I love you. I will always protect you.”

As you prepared to leave Driftmark, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness for the family you were leaving behind. You took a moment to say your farewells to Rhaenyra and her children.

“Please, take care of yourselves,” you whispered to Rhaenyra, holding her hands tightly. “We’ll be in touch, I promise.”

Rhaenyra nodded, her eyes filled with worry. “Be safe, sister.”

With a final embrace, you and Cregan gathered Eddard and boarded your ship, setting sail for Winterfell. The journey was long, but Cregan’s presence and Eddard’s innocent chatter kept your spirits high.

Winterfell welcomed you with open arms. The cold, crisp air and the familiar sights brought a sense of comfort. As you settled back into your home, the events at Driftmark seemed like a distant nightmare.

Cregan, ever the doting husband, ensured you had everything you needed to recover from your injury. He personally oversaw the maesters’ treatments, and his protective nature brought you solace.

A few hours later, as you sat by the fire, Cregan wrapped a warm blanket around your shoulders and handed you a cup of hot tea. “How are you feeling?” he asked, concern etched on his face.

“Better,” you replied, taking a sip. “Thanks to you.”

He smiled, sitting beside you. “I’ll always be here for you. No matter what.”

You leaned against him, finding comfort in his strength. “I know. And I’m grateful.”

Life in Winterfell slowly returned to normal. Eddard resumed his lessons and playtime with the other children, while you and Cregan focused on the responsibilities of ruling the North. Despite the distance from Driftmark, the shadow of that day lingered.

Later that night, as you lay in bed, you turned to Cregan. “Do you think things will ever be right again between the Blacks and the Greens?”

Cregan sighed, his brow furrowing in thought. “It’s hard to say. The wounds run deep. But we must try, for the sake of our family.”

You nodded, understanding the gravity of his words. “I want Eddard to grow up in a world where he doesn’t have to choose sides.”

Cregan’s grip on your hand tightened. “We’ll do everything in our power to make that happen.”

Many moons have passed, and your wound healed, leaving only a faint scar as a reminder of the confrontation. The bond between you and Cregan grew stronger, forged in the fires of adversity. Winterfell thrived under your joint leadership, a beacon of stability and strength. In the morning, as the first snow of the season blanketed the ground, you stood on the battlements with Cregan, watching Eddard play with the other children.

“He’s so happy here,” you remarked, smiling at the sight of your son’s laughter.

Cregan wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Of course he is, this is our home. He’s meant to be here.”

You nodded silently, feeling a deep sense of peace. Your eyes went to the scar on your arm, being reminded of what happened. You looked at your husband, with sadness in your eyes.

“I hope my family will stop this infighting, i wish for all of this today end” Your thoughts began to wonder of all the possible outcomes this conflict can end with. This could very well mean that death will linger in your family. Something no one will ever be prepared for, war costs everything.

The quietness of Winterfell enveloped you as you drifted into a fitful sleep beside Cregan. The room was cold, and the memory of the somber events—the funeral of Lady Laena Velaryon, the sharp sting of your wound—still weighed heavily on you.

In your dream, the landscape was bleak and foreboding. A storm raged over a desolate battlefield, its fury tearing at the very fabric of the sky. You wandered through the chaos, a spectral figure in the storm’s heart. Amidst the destruction, you saw a vision of a great dragon, its scales a dim and faded silver, bound by chains of ice that slowly constricted around its body. The dragon’s eyes were filled with a profound sorrow, as if it sensed the end drawing near.

A shadowy figure emerged from the storm—a man cloaked in shadows, his face obscured but his presence undeniably menacing. His voice cut through the tempest, speaking directly to your mind, “The chains of fate are not easily broken. A great loss is coming to your house.”

As you reached out to free the dragon, a dark prophecy formed in your mind, clear as day. “Cregan will face a treacherous choice,” you heard yourself say in the dream. “A betrayal will come from within. Death will follow.”

You awoke with a start, the remnants of the dream lingering like a cold shiver down your spine. Your breathing was rapid and uneven, and a profound fear gripped you. You turned to Cregan, who was lying beside you, his face furrowed in concern.

The sudden movement and your distressed state had startled him. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice rough with sleep as he reached out to steady you. His hand found yours, his grip warm and reassuring against your icy fingers.

“My dream,” you managed to stammer, your voice trembling. “I saw... I saw something terrible. A dragon in chains, and a warning about you—”

Cregan’s eyes narrowed with concern, but he quickly sat up, his arm wrapping protectively around you. “What did you see? Tell me everything,” he urged, his voice steady despite the worry etched on his face.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “I don’t know all the details, but it felt so real. I fear that something dark is coming, and it will bring pain to us and our house.”

Cregan nodded, his expression resolute despite the alarm in his eyes. “It’s okay,” he said softly, pulling you closer to his body. “For now, try to rest. You need it” He cradled your body as you leaned towards him, the warmth of his body bringing you comfort.

As you lay back down, you could feel the storm of fear inside you slowly ebbing, but the weight of the dream’s prophecy remained heavy in your heart.

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[spotaus]

Hi. So. I'm here to go feral over this rq-

Okay gonna be 100% with you chief, I'm not sure where this rb is going to end up going because my brain just keeps going between how masterfully you write bonding moments and thinking about Horror absolutely scruffing Nine and Rahna- so, my apologies if it's a little silly this time around!

So, first off, YAY!!! NINE PERSPECTIVE!!! Gods you write him SO good, Ancha. He's got such a personality and it makes so so so much sense for his character and lore! Him being a conniving bastard was a central part to his lore and you caught it perfectly (ex. Joining Regius (spelling it wrong-) in a feigned attempt to get into the meeting with a secret agenda the whole time-) and it just! Doesn't stop! He keeps going!!!

And boy when I tell you when I picked up on the fact that the direction Nine's opinion of Cross went was that he was useless and didn't have any personality? And that Rahna and assumedly the others share that belief? (I know it's because they didn't let him flourish or support him at all, it was mostly Ink, Night, the Knights, and Ccino who did the heavy lifting but!!!) Ough I was gonna explode because. Yes. For this self-important skeleton, who believes he is always in the right? Cross was exactly that, and if he hadn't grown out of it since the last time they saw each other, then nothing must have changed. Ougghhhhhh

And!!!! HARPER AND SHEP!!!! The scream I scrumpt at figuring out they were the ones guarding the hall! Like, one: yeah, that checks. Two: THE BABIES!!!!!! Oh Harper being so so chill (whether it's because she knows she could probably take both of them or because she's very aware Horror is nearby, either and/or both are amazing-) and Shep being Shep!!! Harper acted as the initial, unmoving, roadblock. Shep acted as the absolutely bonkers second act- And their banter!! They're friends! (or at least Harper's been on duty with him enough to use humor-) Nine and Rahna are having horrific imagniations of what happened to Shep and Shep is just standing there like 'hehehhehe got 'em >:]' Thank you so dearly for bringing these two back to my doorstep <3

And Rahna sensing that they were gonna get decked if they didn't move along is SO fun! Was that absolutely a hint in my book that either Killer or Horror was there? Yeag. Is it absolutely even funnier to know that neither of them knew 'who' was the danger, just that there was some and that they should scoot off?

And then the tapestries... I love the fact that this implies that, about 3 years after announces his current form and continued rule, that he eventually decided to have the tapestry finished and ready to continue for the next generation. The three new panels made me SO giddy as I was reading about them. The portion where the goopy Night is sending little Dream away. Goopy Night symbolically passing the crown to Little/current night (though I imagine it's more directly saying, by overlapping them, that 'hey, this is the same guy') and then the rule with the twins together again with the merged symbols and the visible age difference??? Waugh???? This is SUCH a good way of showing everything that happened, my goodness! And I adored the way Nine perceived it with his -5 knowledge to go off of! It was still extremely clear to readers who would know the ritual and events by now (me. i'm talking about me, I'm crazy-) and yet the interpretation makes sense for Nine and could totally be believed by any other person in-universe to believe as well, which would be entirely useful for Nightmare later on down the line! Genius!

Also poor Rahna- The folks in Nightmare's castle are so free from the fears of bad flirting and predatory behavior that they really just said 'haha, she's weird. Let's just send these guys straight towards the knight least-likely to take their shit :)' And went about their days. Gods I know this is my story but like, you bring the energy to life just right!! Raugh!!!!! (Also Nine throwing shade at his bestie like that, omg...)

Every bit of the Dust and Cross moments were beautiful to me... Nine and Rahna watching from behind barrels, eavesdropping for sure, but god-honestly just gobsmacked by the horses for 80% of it was beautiful.

Okay. Okay. Limestone and Cross are so great to me, especially with how it's obvious he's used Limestone for rides, but much less combat-based moments, so he's still uncertain and nervous. Perfect for him to learn, perfect for Dust to teach. And Dust explaining to him that he needs to trust Limestone as much as Limestone needs to be able to trust him?? Chef's kiss!!! (Also I loved the touch from Nine about how little force was needed to get Limestone moving. And on the topic of Nine, how degrading he was and how obviously frustrated he was getting when just *watching* someone teach Cross. Oh boy, his impatience knows no bounds, no wonder Cross was so anxious about learning/being taught!)

Also I love the way you wrote all the parts where they were riding, the techniques and the toes and such! Did you have to do research or did you know that off the top of your head??

Fun Geno mention btw! I giggled and kicked my feet about that one. Not only was it great timing to show off that, yes Nine they DO have powerful cool magic things, but also a nod to the healing relationship! (And Cross being frustrated over it was still do so funny- "You're literally the only one who would need something like this, Dust" he's not wrong!) And when it came back into play during Dust's showing off tricks?? Ough. I've said it before, I'll say it again, Geno's flirting style would have absolutely worked on me- Who said that?

Anyways. Back to the scenes with the horses. I liked the little worldbuilding bits too that reference back to unseen scenes from way before, when Cross was still in Ritten and under Xgaster's watch. Because Nine mentioning that Cross never used to seem anxious, or wriggle, or talk with his hands, or smile (that one hurt-) and so surely this was something wrong and different, right? Surely they had done something to his little brother. But it becomes more and more apparent that. no. This is natural healing and something done with help and something that he brother always had in him but never had the safe-space to do so, and he only shakes the initial villainization by twisting the narrative to convince himself that Dust must've been the reason Cross seemed to be doing relatively better.

Which. Btw. Nine was so funny at the start. I loved how he badmouthed Nightmare internally and swore that he was a fake, weak, false king (the 'taking too long' and 'he doesn't know how they secured a treaty with Sanctuary' is SO funny to me with narrator knowledge. Knowing Night's basically putting them through a test that they aren't even aware is happening-) and mentioning Prince Dream (Yippe!! glad to see Dream by Nightmare's side again!!!) should take over because Nightmare is obviously younger than him, and it's only a matter of time before things can go south- And then badmouthing internally the knights for being inattentive as he snuck around (Shout-out to the Cats <3) and calling Horror weird and surely no good with the hole in his skull (Ancha ur the funniest author ever for having Nine think 'injuries like that don't just happen' because he is SO wrong-) and Killer just. For being Killer and telling him off like he had. And then the presumptions about Ccino and that his 'Head of House' title was just a front for something else. And THEN assuming Dust was only a Knight by title because of how well he handled the horses and Nightmare just needing to keep him around through any means nessicary. He fumbles almost every assumption possible and I love him for that <3 but then. Sorry. Back on track. Dust. he looks at Dust being a good (Brother, but he's not processing that) Teacher to Cross and decides that. Yeag. This guy is tiny and I'd tower over him and he has a freaky connection to horses and he's kinda cute... Dammit why didn't I wear the good armor! Bro thinks he's going to seduce Dust back to Ritten when he takes Cross- I was cackling at how that bit was included, it meant the world to me to see this man gain a crush and then immediately fumble so so badly.

And the- ough the scene with Dust letting Cross speak and listening and then absolutely reassuring him that it was okay and that he is 'perfect' the way he is now and he doesn't have to be who he was before or bend to anyone's expectations??? Helo??? Hello can anyone hear me, I'm sobbing!!! Having Cross walk away from it a little bleary-eyed too? That's some good brotherly heart to heart I swear- Oh and the hug, and Cross being so worried about it and Dust just reassuring him- I'm weeping

And Horror. Horror Scruffing Nine and Rahna before they could go and screw it all up? Holding them down behind the barrels and telling them (but very pointedly Nine) to just shut up and listen to Cross for once? Oh the shock they both had about being spotted and snuck up on, the realizations from both of them as Cross spoke about his fears, the gut-punch of Dust being so kind to Cross and Nine getting the first edges of a wake-up call finally? And the moment Dust spells it out, referring to Lust as Cross' boyfriend? That being the final nail in the coffin that, yes, he appears to have been wrong. Friends, colleagues, they all could have ulterior motives or be forced to be around you, but a partner? Partners were probably one of many many things that never even occurred to Nine for Cross to have, and it being spelled out that Cross has a partner, who he would like to go spend time with, who supposedly was known to other and who would help him calm down? Cross has to have changed if that was the case. Ten could hardly hold a conversation, Nine couldn't imagine that little soldier trying to hold hands, let alone be in a committed relationship. And as it was, everything, all the evidence, weighed up!

And dudeeee. Dust finding such a good way to get Cross so leave (for his own good) and not ruining the mood was so tasty. Not the way he strolled over and made a straight stare at them! Talking over them just to Horror! The two of them calling them children and Nine realizing just how long they were trailed and how oblivious he's been?? And them getting pulled back inside and passing the maids- gods those two need a raise because their drama-loving vibes totally paid off in the funniest way possible (again, rip Rahna-). The two of them continuously bringing up the time-out and Horror sticking around and Dust taking up his shift- I love them!!! This is horror-scenario levels of embarrassment for Rahna and Nine, but absolutely the best bonding time for Dust and Horror- Imagine getting a crush and then ur Crush immediately calls you childish and you get locked in jail-

And I love how harmless the punishment really is. It's not really clicking for him but the Knights are having a bit of fun with it. This is the brother who treated Cross so poorly and who keeps making their little brother uncomfortable, of course they're going to embarrass the shit out of him the moment he slips up! But they're not hurting them, not shackling them or using it to extort the Ritten royalty. They're literally doing exactly what they said, putting the kids in time-out! And they're having a good time about it too. petty revenge one might call it.

Oh. right! last note!! Nine realizing how much like his dad he's become!!!! WAUGH!!!! SUCH a good ending note!!! Bro got time-out to think about why he acts so much like Xgaster and maybe that's why his little brother is trying so hard to avoid him.

Okay I feel like there's more I could say but I think this ran a little long but. Oh this was so fun Ancha istg your cooking is amazing-

NewAgeAU Drabble - Nine does not equal Ten

Hi @spotaus ! I am not even sorry at this point!! I had an idea and I think by the title you can guess what it is about this time :3

We are in post story again! (i am keeping my strike going lmao) but this time? very different character. Nine :3 (also. Xundyne's name for now is Ranha, from piranha... because she is a fish monster and well... I wanted a fish themed name for her lmao)

Also warning. Nine think very degrading and judgemental. in case that bothers you.

He is also a very unreliable narrator lmao.

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

Nine makes sure to frown as he crosses his arms while his king, and co-king honestly, disappear into the meeting room with the brat that calls himself a king.

Nine only acts annoyed of course. He knew he wouldn't be allowed into the meeting room and he had been planning on it. It is hard to search this place if he is suposed to be in one room.

Ranha stands by his side, huffing and puffing as she mutters stuff under her breath. She is honestly annoyed with not being allowed inside the meeting room. Nine is sure she will be fine with it after he shares his plan.

Nine watches the brat acting as king lead his own king and his right hand inside. They would both be named king after the coup but the resistance hadn't wanted to push the people of Ritten too far. Nine watches as the crown prince, prince Dream, follows the child and Nine still doens't understand why Dream hasn't taken the crown yet. It can't be that hard to take the power from the younger skeleton. How Nightmare is still seen as king is a mystery to Nine.

Sure it seems like things are okay after three years but Nine knows not to bindly believe people. He had hoped that Ten would have finally learned that lesson by now but it seems that wasn't the case. But that is okay. Nine will be the great brother he was meant to be and get through to Ten and get him home. Easy.

The meeting room door closes and Nine nudges his best friend "Hush." and he nods towards the side. Ranha tilts her head and her red hair shifts slightly. She glances at the door before following him down the hallway.

"What is the big deal Nine?" She seems puzzles.

Nine looks back over his shoulder but nothing happens. Hah. See? And this is why Nightmare still being seen as king is a mystery to him. Those Knights are nothing but hot air as he doesn't even see any of them following him, no wonder Ten got accepted into the role so quickly, the knights clearly can't spot a single threat even when it is right in front of them. All he sees behind them is a prestine looking cat watching them.

"I knew they weren't going to let us join the meeting."

Ranha looks annoyed "Then why did you ask me to join you? I could be exploring the town and checking the stalls and stuff! See what people really think about their weird king and the weirdos here." the shark monster huffs.

Nine rolls his eyes "Because I am in the castle now. Which means I can finally find Ten and talk some sense into him."

Ranha stares shocked before she smiles broadly "Nine you are a genius! Lets go!"

Nine grins as he waves Ranha to follow him.

It isn't the first time he is in this castle. It is the fourth now. Each time Nine would just watch and wait only to not see Ten. This time he is going to search himself. Nine is lucky that Nightmare is a brat and clearly inexperienced with getting allies as it is taking his king and the brat king ages to get a treaty finalised. Honestly how Orchard managed to get Sanctuary as ally is still a mystery but Nine doesn't have time to figure out how this fake king is managing.

If Nine knows one thing is that kings like that will always fall by the brave people who are willing to stand against them.

But that isn't Nine's job. He already made the wrong choice like this before. When he picked the coup over his brother. When he didn't bother to help his brother adjust to all the heavy changes.

Nine had needed time. Time to even believe there were other options. To see that these options weren't wrong and could work for him. His friends had helped him see this. Yet Nine hadn't permitted Ten these insights and moments.

This time though! This time he will make this work! Even if Nine knows that Ten will never be able to fully adjust and become like them. He has gone through too much conditioning to ever be his own person again. But Nine can lead him in the right direction at least.

Ranha knows the way and it seems that she has the same plan as Nine had. Which is going straight towards the private wing.

None of them had allowed access to a whole wing of the castle. Apparently that was the royal's private wing. Which who needs a whole wing to themselves?!

Selfish pricks. All of them.

They turn the corner and get out into the hall. Nine ignores the many many tapestries. Ranha is right behind him as they make their way all the way through the next hall with large windows. They finally reach the right hallway and slow their running. They walk side by side with confidence as the near the entrance. There are two guards there but that doesn't matter. Nine is a visiting guard from a country their stupid king wants a treaty with. It will be easy to gain access.

Nine is a step away from entering the royal wing. He can't help but look at the arch leading into the next wing. The arch is large and high and seems to almost be like tree roots or branches. With small leaves and everything. It looks so livelike and Nine wonders who carved it, it straight up looks like living tree branches. Many other decorations and details just like this one are all across and around this castle.

He can't wonder much longer as the two guards cross their spears in front of Ranha and him.

Ranha glares "What are you doing? Let us through!"

A cat like monster, orange of colour, sounds very unamused "No one is allowed access into the king's wing." She looks unbothered.

The dog monster next to her grins "What Harper said. Shoo little kiddos." the grin makes the slight greying around his snout stand out. He has short trimmed fur and most obviously, the cut tail.

Nine huffs as he stands taller, easily towering over the black and white dog "I was allowed access."

The dog hums and taps his chin before shaking his head "Nope! Doesn't work like that!"

Harper nods "Indeed. Only the royal family and those allowed acces by either them of the Head of House are allowed entrance."

Nine wants to roll his eyes at the stupid head of house title. Everyone should know that is just some stupid coverup. Nine has his theories but for now he sees his in. He gives a charming smile as he nods "I know of course. But he told me himself he needed me to grab something for him." he grins as he wiggles his eye brows. Hinting at a secret meaning.

The dog and cat share a look before Harper looks unimpressed "We do not allow entrance to anyone unless he told us himself he allows entrance."

Ranha luckily sees what Nine is trying and joins in "We seriously got the go ahead! It is an emergancy that we are allowed in."

The dog shakes his head again "No can't do! The last time I didn't follow the orders they cut off my tail! And I only have one of those and I don't want to imagine what will go next."

Nine feels sick to deep in his soul. They... They did what?!

Harper glances at her partner unamused "Shut it Shep."

Shep grins at her "What do you think Harp! What will be next?"

Harper looks umimpressed "If I am lucky it will be your tongue."

Nine feels sick. What is wrong with these people? Why are they still here? What kind of hell and torture kingdom did his stupid younger brother get himself stuck in? Well not for long! Nine will make sure to tell the others everything.

But only after he managed to get Ten home. To get Ten away from this place before they realised that Nine was going to bring this whole kingdom down. He won't make the same mistake of ignoring his brother just because it would be harder for him. No. He will first free his brother and then they will bring this hellhole down and people will be celebrating them.

Harper looks unamused at them "You are not welcome here. Please remove yourself from this area or we will be forced to remove you ourselves." She sounds bored as she says this.

Nine is very sure he can take them but Ranha huffs and walks away. Nine looks back betrayed before following her.

They walk through the halls until they end up in the tapastry hall again. Nine glares at Ranha "Why would you-"

Ranha stops as she shakes her head "You don't understand. You know how I sometimes have these feelings? Of incoming attacks?" Nine nods. It was one of Ranha's many talents and how Ranha was undefeated.

Ranha continues to speak "When you got ready to get us inside. I felt it. This large... presence. Suddenly and ready." she shakes her head "Danger. I felt it was better to retreat and make a better plan."

Nine frowns but sighs "Fair enough. The chance that Ten would be there is rather small..." He may be one of his knights but Nine doubts they truly get anything aside from a title and more dangerous jobs. Well and the masks, those are rather cool. Nine would like a mask. He thinks he would look amazing and very cool in one.

Ranha nods as she mutters "Where could he be... or who would know?" She rubs her chin "The knights probably. But i doubt they will want to help us. I have no doubt that whatever the king used to keep Ten listening to him also works on the other knights. Do you think it is somekind of mind control? or like blackmail? mind control would be okay to break but blackmail is much more sensitive, especially as it implies he got it somehow. We could also wait until the treaty is signed and go by Sanctuary and see if we can get more support through them. Make an allyship with them and then overthrow this whole country."

Nine should be listening. But all he can do is stare at the tapastries.

They happened to end before a set that Nine had been ignoring. Almost like the world itself is trying to force Nine to see and consider them. The first in the set that calls his attention is one showing two small skeletons. One in yellow and one in purple. A sun shown above the one in yellow and a moon shown above the one in purple.

It isn't hard to connect the purple skeleton with the brat king. But Nine doens't understand. Because the yellow one is clearly the crown prince. But they look the same age here. Same height and everything. It had already been confusing that the younger brother had gotten the crown before the older one but this made it seem as if they are much closer in age than the real them shows. It confuses him. It could be something to play up the dramatics but when they had their tour it was implied that these tapastries are a way to document the past.

Though the actual historic events could have gone down differently and this is just another piece of propaganda.

The next one shows a picture of a dark and seemingly partly liquid monster. A skeleton still but large and dark and with tentacles on his back. He stands tall with an arm pointed outwards, the young yellow skeleton is being send away. As the tall one remains with a crown on his dark skull.

Nine looks at the third that caught his attention. This one shows the dark skeleton standing behind the young king. The dark goop skeleton however doens't look menacing. Instead the sockets are closed as the large imposing figure stands with open hands towards the young skeleton in purple. The young skeleton has his sockets open and seems to stare outwards. The tentacles all hang around him as well, not ready to strike but in a way that seemed to surrender. a crown held within the young skeleton's hands.

Nine ponders. He wonders if the gooped skeleton had been Nightmare's parent. He knows that Nim was suposed to be the king before Nightmare and that the gooped skeleton took over. Something about taking the crown from the rightful heir. Nine knows that the gooped skeleton had been named Nightmare as well and Nine is very sure that this one just named the now ruling Nightmae after himself, like a Nightmare the second. This also ties in with the whole head of house theory he has. Nine knows that the head of house is a useless title often given to a favourite servant. Somekind of excuse to keep someone close without needing to put actual time and effort into them standing out as consort or advisor. And the tiny skeleton had to have come from somewhere.

Of course his theory still has holes in it. Mostly what the deal with Dream is and where he fit in. But Nine hopes to eventually figure it out. He already figured out a lot of the situation after all.

He looks at the last one and huffs. It shows the young skeleton in purple holding hands wiht an older looking skeleton in yellow. The moon and sun having been united into one symbol. On the moon side were figures which resembled the different knights. Nine can't help but stare at the one with the snow leopard mask. His brother... stuck in some legacy and played like a pawn... If Nine had tried harder to make Ten feel included would Ten have been okay? Not perfect but maybe a bit better?

On the skeleton in yellow's side was some warrior in blue with a large hammer and a skeleton with many colours and brown clothes with a tail.

Nine stares at the title 'Reunited.' Seems like all these pictures have names. Nine doesn't understand but figures it is some sort of propaganda. Something to mellow out people and make it seem like it is okay.

"Nine?"

Ranha looks worried before she looks at where Nine is staring and her smile turns gentle "Hey... I know you want to help him. And even if we can never truly make him fully whole. We can at least give him a safe place."

Nine sighs and nods "It is something." The damage that his father and old king did was too large. There is no way his simple and naive brother will be able to fully get over it. To be able to move past it. But Nine will do his duty as brother and keep Ten somewhere safe. Some simple jobs will be good. Some normal routine.

Ranha looks around and sees some maids walk by and Nine follows her as she rushes over. She smiles brightly at them before making some small talk. The maids seem happy and content. Easily talking back and giggling once or twice. Though Nine can't help but feel like this is not the way girls normlaly giggle when Ranha flirts with them. This seems more... amused? It is hard to explain. He notices a black cat on the window sill. Lounging as it stares at them with large yellow eyes.

Ranha is casual as can be once she asks the question "I was wondering if we could see a knight! You know. Maybe the one with the white panther mask?"

The maids share a look before one snorts "You mean Cross?" Nine just barely manages to keep his annoyance is. His brother's name is not fucking cross. It is Ten! That is his name and Ten will always be Ten! The maid hums and looks at her friend "Is it training time?"

The other shakes her head "I don't think so. I believe I saw sir Cross with sir Dust."

The first one laughs and nods "Oh that is easy then." she smiles brightly at them "They will be at the ranch. That is where Sir Dust always is."

Nine blinks confused. The ranch? Why? Ranha however asks where they can find it and the maids tell them how to get there. They do warn them to not bother this Dust knight when he is working with the horses before walking off together. Giggling and whispering stuff. They shoot them a look before rushing off giggling again.

Ranha grins and flexes her arms "Still got it." Nine isn't sure she does but he won't challange her on it. They follow the hallways and Nine can't help but stare at the walls around them.

The walls look strange. They have ridges and dips and when Nine feels them they feel like they are made of wood yet he knows for a fact that they are suposed to be rocks and bricks.

Nine once again wonders which masterful crafter and builder made this castle. It almost seems alive. It is warm and beautiful. Everywhere there is signatures of nature or references to it.

The castle he is used to. That of his father. It was all sharp lines and precision. Nothing was allowed to be out of place. No dust or dirt anywhere. Everything had to be perfect.

This castle was wilder. That is the best way Nine can explain it. It is wild and uncontained. It branches outwards. Stuff is uneven and different. The pillars aren't exactly the same even as they are all that same carved stone to look like roots. It feels alive. It feels living. It seems the breath. It feels like there is something larger at play.

Yet it doesnt feel welcome, he doens't feel welcome. Nine can't explain it exactly.

They get outside and follow the path. It takes them a while as they walk past some trees and through a small forest and then they see it.

It is a large ranch. Build with this deep greenish wood of all colours. WIth multiple large pens nearby. It is open and large. But the trees give it privacy. It is beautiful.

Nine feels Ranha tug on his armour and follows where she is pointing. In a pen he can see his brother! Ten is there but... he is seated on a beige horse. Large and strong looking. Antoher skeleton is nearby and seems to be messing with the reins of the horse.

Nine begins to walk closer but he starts to slow his steps. Because... Ten isn't wearing armour. Nine can't rememebr the last time Ten hadn't been wearing armour. Back at home he always had to be ready. Ten.... Ten didn't have time to relax in a casual outfit. Or do things for himself. And yet... here he is... under another tyrant yet... he is wearing casual clothes? He is sitting on a horse? is this somekind of trick of that king? Let Ten relax to make him more loyal? Maybe the brat is smarter than Nine thought.

Ranha shoots him a confused look before going to step closer to the pen but Nine stops her. He can't explain. it is just... Ten looks... He looks different. Not just his clothes but... something else. Nine can't quite explain what it is or put his finger on it. He needs more information. He needs to be prepared to break through any trick or lie. He nods towards the side where a large fench is located and some barrels. Ranha nods and sneaks there with Nine right by her side. They hide behind the barrels and Nine focusses his magic. He quickly enhances his sight and hearing and focusses in. Strangely enough he also feels like there is rian in the air but a glance up shows a cloudless sky. But any thought about the weird feeling in the air is forgotten as soon as Ten speaks.

"Are you sure about this Dust? I still don't think I am ready. What if he throws me off?!"

The other skeleton, Dust is just wearing a large sweater. It looks to be made of high quality. He also seems to be wearing just a beanie to cover his skull. A large red scarf wrapped around his neck. The scarf looks a different quality than everything else.

The other tilts his skull at Ten. Seemingly considering his answer "If you fall off. We can try again."

Ten glares "Dust this isn't funny."

Dust seems to disagree as he grins slightly, just a slight upturn of the teeth "It is fine Cross. Just a matter of trying again. And you and Limestone need to practise this."

Nine feels himself get angry as they use the fake name for his brother but he needs to remain calm. He needs to watch and learn.

Ten grumbles unhappily as he glares down at the horse "I just... I don't get why you can't just train him... You trained Basalt... and Granite for that matter!"

Dust tilts his skull "I did. But he needs to get used to you while running. Get used to how you move and your weight." he pets the horse, the horse leans into Dust's touch "There needs to be trust Cross. You need to trust Limestone that he won't throw you off. And Limestone needs to be able to trust you that you will lead him into the right direction."

Ten blinks and seems to stare at Dust for a moment before looking down at the horse. The animal just stares at him. "I... euh... oh..."

Dust tilts his skull the other way "Do you want to try galloping first?"

Ten looks up and Nine finally figured out what is different. Why Ten looks different. Ten is... smiling. He is smiling brightly and nods excited at the idea.

Nine... Nine can't remember the last time he saw Ten happy and smiling... It is a face he never saw on his brother.

Ranha mutters softly "Wow... I never... He looks so differnet now... so much... more like... A person? i guess? It is weird. I am used to him just. Standing straight and like saluting and being still and unmoving? Like some statue and not like a person?"

Nine nods because he notices it now. The way the Ten is messing with the reins. The way his leg seems to tap the stirrup. The way he seems to almost... wiggle in place a little.

Dust chuckles and nods as he pets the horse a few more times "Go for it. Limestone wants to move." and he takes a few steps back.

Ten gets a large smile on his face as he kicks his heels lightly back, Nine is very surprised when the horse starts moving. He thought you had to be rougher and kick harder to get horses to move. That was hardly a tick.

Yet it works. As Ten starts to ride the horse and the horse speeds up quickly. Very quickly. Ranha suddenly gasps "Holy shit. That horse still has like the three toe system."

Nine blinks in shock. He knows that the wild horses form Orchard were rumoured to be faster and much more diverse than the horses in other places. The wild horses continued to adapt and where made to travel long distances for faster speeds unlike the normal horse endurance. The toes give extra stability and would make the horses able to travel all kinds of terrain while still being fast.

Nine stares in awe as the horse speeds up and than continues to go full speed ahead. Ten tugs lightly on the reins and the horse reacts instantly. Making sharp turns and Nine notices that the back looks longer and sligthly bigger than the horses Nine is used to.

These. These truly are a different breed.

Maybe Nine can convince his king and friend to keep this allyship going for a bit longer. Or maybe get a few horses out of the deal. Nine has no doubt these horses could be much better with good riders.

Ten is.... surprisingly okay with riding the horse. Makes okay turns but well. It is just Ten so NIne is sure he is doing stuff wrong that they can work on back in Ritten, once they find his shortcomings.

Ten eventually returns to Dust and Ten smiles brightly and Nine can't help but stare. He looks happy. He is happy. That is what is different about him. He is relaxed and happy and he doesn't stand as a statue anymore.

Ten laughs as he grins at Dust "Limestone is even faster than before!"

Dust nods but has a tiny smile on his face. Looking very content and proud "Limestone is a strong horse. He is fast and loves to exercise and run. It is honestly a bigger problem to make sure he rests than anything." he crosses his arms and raises a brow at Ten "Remind you of someone."

Ten blushes and looks to the side as he rubs his neck "I have been getting better with the whole work life balance."

Dust nods and agress easily. He pets the horse and looks at Ten "Want to try going faster?"

Faster?! How do you go faster than that!?

Ten looks deeply unhappy and unsure "I don't know..." he pets the horse.

Dust seems to stare at him before speaking "Would it be better if I lead the path with Pearl?"

Ten looks up and a look of pure relieve on his face. Had... had Ten always been this expressive?

Ten nods "Please."

Dust nods and looks to the side. He clicks his tongue and teeth and one of the horses looks up. A smaller but beautiful grey horse with striking purple eyes. The horse starts running and jumps over the fench before trotting over to the two skeletons and horse.

Ten laughs and grins at Dust "Pearl is showing off again."

Dust sighs and nods "I can't manage to unlearn her to jump fenches." the horse stops before him and pushes her whole head into his chest and arms. Dust pets the head and neck "You ready to lead Cross and Limestone?" The horse pulls back and tussles her head around before waiting patiently.

Dust puts his hand into his hip bag and pulls out this curious stone and metal item. He taps the side and bright gemstones light up and runes start to shine.

Ten looks alarmed "What is that!?"

Dust glances at him and a small smile appears "It is a prototype. Geno gave it to me to test it as I ride horses. It is suposed to be something to make it easy and quick to saddle up horses."

Ten looks deeply unhappy as he glares at the item as if it personally offended him "That stupid smug bastard. He is just trying to buy you over with stupid gifts."

Dust looks deeply amused "It is a prototype."

Ten throws up his arms "You are the only person who would find a good use for this!"

Dust chuckels as he lets the item get near the horse and it shines before it starts unfolding and a few clicks later and the horse is equipped with the normal rider things. Dust gets on top of the horse with a grace and confidence that leaves Nine open mouthed. He never... Even the people at home...

Dust looks at Ten "Ready?"

Ten grins as he nods "Yes. Lock the reins and just hold on right?" as he says it he messes with the headpiece on the horse and Nine wants to roll his eyes.

Dust nods and speaks "Indeed. Just make sure it is ready as if you are going to make a get away." and he waits.

Shit he really is patient... Is that why he is teaching Ten?

Ten nods and sits up straight "Ready!"

Dust chuckles as he turns his horse. He checks back over his shoulder to Ten "Go for it. Get him to follow Pearl." Dust doesn't even tug on the reins and Nine can't even spot an obvious movement to direct the horse to start moving. How did he do that?

Ten takes a deep breath before he leans closer to the horse and grabs hold on some extra handbars on the headpiece of the horse. The horse immediantly looks around as Ten nudges the horse to look at Dust and the leaving horse.

The horse stares before it starts to trod after the other skeleton and horse. Ten meanwhile stays as he is. Relaxing against the horse as his horse just follows Dust and his own horse.

It is fascinating. Especially when Dust starts to speed up with some unseeable comment and Ten's horse follows right along. There is no doubt. There is full commitment of both horses.

While Nine had no doubt that Ten still has much to improve with horse riding. Dust seems to be a master. He directs the horse with minimal movement and the horse seems to react immediantly to any unheard and unseen comment.

Soon both horses are running through the pen but it still isn't the gallop speed of before. Dust speaks up casually "We are going to practise you trusting Limestone. Just get into the position to blind ride. We are going to have Limestone follow Pearl's lead."

Ten nods "Okay. Okay. I can... I can do that." He lays fully against the horse and pulls his feet out of the saddle footholds. He messes with the saddle and the footholds get a lot higher and further towards the back. Cross does some weird combination of laying and crouching on the horse as he tugs his feet back into the holsters.

Dust looks back over his shoulder. Not at all seeming concerned about having to look where he is going as he blindly tugs at the right moment to make his horse make a turn "Not quite there but this is fine to practise with for now." he pets the horse's neck before leaning closer to the horse and the horse shoots of.

It goes faster than any horse Nine has ever seen before. It is fast and nimble as Dust truly rides the horse. The other horse with Ten blindly following-

Blind Riding. They don't mean it with looking. They mean it as they don't control the horses beyond the minimum. They are minimising the pressure and bother they could give the horses which enables those to run faster than before.

And if this is just the start... How fast can they go?

Ranha watches with her own mouth open before she mutters "This... this must be why he is a Knight. Not fighting or anything like that. He has a way with the horses."

Nine agrees and thinks she is right. The guy on the horse is fragile and delicate looking. Nine has no doubt that he towers over the other. Soft spoken too... But if he is this good with the horses. If he is able to train the wild horses and make them do this kind of stuff? no wonder they immediantly snatched him up and gave him the higest position they could. Make him stay.

The two horses are almost flying around the running pen. Then Dust leads his horse towards the middle where a small pond is located. Then Dust nudges the horse and it just jumps over the pond! It lands easily and keeps running. The horse with Ten doesn't pause a single step and copies the first horse. It lands safely and without a single issue.

Dust holds up an arm and fist and the horse with Ten starts to slow down and continues walking another round before stopping. Dust lets his horse walk by before just jumping off before nudging his horse. It huffs before continuing its trot across the ring.

Ten pants as he grins widely at Dsut "That was awesome!"

Dust chuckles "It is rather fun to just let the horses do their thing isn't it? and you made the jump first try. Killer fell at least twice."

Ten blinks as he looks up shocked "Twice?"

Dust nods "At least. I am pretty sure he snuck off to practise with Granite while I had my private training." he is by Ten's side as he checks the horse "How are you feeling? You were rather tense."

Ten laughs as he rubs his neck "I am fine... thanks for checking... It is just. I think I am done for today. Thanks again for... being here i guess."

Dust pauses his movements as he starts to undo the horse harnass "It is no problem. I am always here." and he clips it fully off.

Nine has made the decision that he likes this knight. The one he met first, the one wiht goop? The one that claimed Ten as his brother? Nine doens't like him. Weirdo with always having tear trails on his face. Not to forget how cocky and confident he acts. Must be some kind of trick and lie that he keeps up to fool and intimidate others. But Nine isn't fooled. He can see through that easily.

He also doesn't like the bigger guy. Dude moves too quietly for someone his size and that hole in his skull? You don't just get that on accident. Something sinister is in that one's past no doubt.

This one? Just a guy trying to train horses and help Ten with his horse and training? Nine can appreciate that. And sure! The fact he looks cute and pretty helps a lot too. Nine would in theory be fine with this guy joining them in Ritten as well. It would be nice for Ten to have someone who is already his friend. Help him feel at home even more. And then Nine can work on impressing the other by showing his skills! It would be quick and easy!

Ten is by Dust's side as they mess with the saddle and headpiece. They talk about settings and prefered length. Nine is honestly not sure what any of it means so Ten probably doesn't either.

Ten looks at Dust and looks down a bit embarrassed "I... I know I am asking a lot... But i don't really feel like going inside already... Mind showing some tricks? again?" and he looks hopeful.

Dust looks at him and nods "I don't mind."

Fuck he is so patient with Ten... Maybe this guy was a good influence on Ten. Helped him with his lessons and training. someone had to be as Nine doubts the king or those other two knights were.

Ten looks downright excited as he waits by the fench as Dust leads the horse towards the other pen where the beige horse joins the other horses. Nine can count at least ten in there, a whole herd of horses all slightly different shaped and colours. All looking healthy and strong and interacting.

Dust returns and gets on top of his grey horse with practised ease. Ten leans against the fench as he watches.

Dust turns his horse around and starts galloping through the area. Even faster than when he had been leading Ten on the other horse. Ten cheers as he grins widely. It looks so... unlike the brother Nine is used to... So very different.

Dust meanwhile makes the horse take a large turn and Ten grins as he looks around before grabbing a cap and throwing it into the pen. Dust aims the horse and straight up leans sideways and off the back of the horse. Almost fully upsidedown to easily snatch the cap of the ground before pulling himself back on the horse's back. Not once slowing down.

Ranha gasps "Hole shit that is so difficult... How?! Without slowing down!?" She is sitting up straighter to enable her to see everything easier. Pure awe on her face and Nine feels like he may have been not fully aware of how difficult that seemingly easy trick is...

Dust runs with the horse by Ten and straight up puts the cap on his skull. Again without once slowing down. Ten laughs and cheers "Go Dust go!" as he grins.

Dust keeps moving the horse around quickly and now he has started to zigzag with it! Nine blinks and looks at Ranha "Isn't that like... suposedly very hard for horses?"

Ranha nods as she doesn't look away from the display "It is insane! Horsese make large turns because of their back. I don't know how that horse is that flexible or how that guy can just direct the horse to make the turns by not actively turning but instead almost twisting in a jump?!" she stares "Is this what the rare horses can do? That inhabit this land? We need to get Regius to get some horses!"

Nine glares at his best friend "Don't speak the king's name so casually."

Ranha waves him off "It is fine. We were all friends before he became king so we are good."

Nine huffs as he focusses on the display of masterful horse riding. It is just that not speaking the title is disrespectful and he will not make them seem unprofessional or like they don't take their ruling class seriously. Regius only became king after the fall of the old one and Nine doesn't want people to think he is an easy target just because of that. And he doubts a brat like this country's king can see how much work they had to put into bettering what they had and helping their land and people heal from all the damage.

Ranha makes a curious noise close to choking and Nine pays attention just to see Dust standing on the back of the horse. Perfectly balanced and even balancing on one leg as the horse keeps running around the pen. He steps off the horse on a fench where he runs alongside the horse, the horse finally slowing a bit down, before Dust steps back on the back and the horse speeds up again.

Dust crouches down as he puts his hands on the horse's back before just making a handstand!

Nine can't imagine how hard standing on a horse could be. much less making a handstand?! He knows how to make a handstand of course and it is easier to do it with momentum. Dust did it without that.

Ten keeps cheering for his friend as Nine stares in awe. Ranha is muttering about how insane this is and how there has to be magic at play. Yet aside from the presure of the rain he has felt since the start he hasn't noticed any spells of any type. Not even to help lead or control the horses like other riders do. Nine can't help but just keep staring.

Dust sits back on the horse but backwards as he calmly undoes the saddle. The saddle falls off the horse and as soon as the saddle hits the ground it seems to disappear. Right, the saddle was part of that magic item Dust is testing. All while Dust remains seated on the powerful beast that is still running. Dust turns back around and messes with the reins that seem to make handholds on the headpiece.

Dust next grabs hold of the handholds and lays his legs on the back of the horse. He taps the side of the neck of the horse nad motions forwards before he lays fully against the horse.

The horse going fast before is nothing compared to how fast it runs now. It is bolting through the pen and there seems to be zero control that Dust has over it. Instead Dust just holds on and lets it do its things.

"He minimised his contact and hold on the horse. he freed the horse from the saddle to enable it to move even more freely and go faster!" Ranha looks downright excited as she just stands there and stares. Nine glares at her and pulls her back down to hide wiht him.

"Stop standing! They may see you!" Nine feels an anxiety at being caught snooping now. Not like before where he would just lie and say he wasn't snooping or spying. Now he is nervous about how it would reflect on him as a person, especially to the smaller and skilled skeleton. Fuck he wishes he was wearing his better armour than this one. He hadn't wanted to seem like he was trying to impress Orchard's ruler or make it seem like they thought they needed to impress this leader but he is regretting it now. How can he show him his best side when he isn't prepared!?

The horse continues to run before coming to a slow stop near Ten. Ten is grinning widely as he claps his hands "That was so cool! Dust it is nuts how fast you can go with Pearl!"

Dust shrugs as he gets off and grabs a brush to start taking care of the animal while Ten stands near his side. "I was wondering soemthing." Dust voice is soft and calm. Even.

Ten nods as he watches Dust work "Ask away."

Dsut shoots him a look before speaking again "I figured you would want to be near Nightmare with the guests here. Why with me?"

Ten goes quiet as he looks down. Nine nudges Ranha and nods. It is their time to act! This is the perfect set up-

A hand grabs him by the neck and pushes him flush against the barrels he had been hiding behind. Ranha makes a shocked sound and Nine can barely see her in the same position as he is in.

A deep voice speaks up "Dont you know that eavesdropping is rude? But what could be expect from snooping immature children."

Nine freezes. That is the voice of the big knight guy. The one wiht the lion mask. Horror. how... when? Nine hadn't even heard him! When did they get exposed and found out!?

Horror continues to speak "But if you wish to listen in. You will listen. You will hear what Cross has to say instead of speaking for him."

Ranha growls "His name isn't-UGH!" she chokes for a moment before the kngiht releases his grip a bit again.

"Listen."

Ten finally answers "It is dumb..."

Dust hums as he leans against the horse "Try me."

Ten isn't looking up as he rubs his own arm "I... I didn't expect them to be happy with me... That is fair. I just. Didn't expect them to hate me without knowing me." Ten frowns as he softly pets the horse "It is like... They are unhappy with who i am now and want me to be who i used to be, who i don't want to be anymore. Yet they hate that person." Ten hunkers in on himself "I don't... like feeling like that."

Dust frowns as he puts a hand on Ten's shoulder "That is on them."

Ten frowns as he looks away "It isn't... I" He frowns as he moves his hands around. Had... Had Ten always moved this much? That can't be right. Nine remembers him being still and unmoving. Their father had always been strict about staying in line and acting as they had to and-

and...

and being... the way he wanted... to be...

Like Nine wants Ten to be.

Oh...

Ten isn't the problem... is he?

Dust takes Ten's face between his hands and makes Nine's younger brother look at him "Cross. Look at me. No i mean it. Look at me." Ten stares at him and Dust looks at him "You are you. No one else. No one telling you how you should be or act is right. You are fine like this. You are happy like this. You can be however you want to be, whatever makes you feel good and feel like you are you." Dust gentle bonks their skulls together "I think you would do best if you visit Lust for a bit and you two hang out and focus on something else. Okay?"

Ten frowns but gives a slow nod "Okay."

Dust nods as he keeps holding the taller skeleton "And this is not me sending you away. I enjoy us spending time together. But i think being here while they are here is stressing you out. Making you second guess yourself. Go to a different environment and let yourself relax. When you come home we can try more horse riding or you can help Killer trying to get Kingdom Devourer out of a tree again. Go relax."

Ten frowns before nodding and just hugging the other. Dust chuckles and pats his back "You are fine the way you are Cross... In matter of fact. You are perfect the way you are." Ten's breath seems to hitch as he just holds the other tighter and continues to hold him. It isn't until some time passed that Ten lets go and steps back with an embarrassed expression and... and slightly hazy looking eyes.

"Sorry... I know you don't... don't like... I am sorry."

Dust chuckles and pats his back "It is alright. Go hang out with your boyfriend while I clean up."

Boyfriend... but... why would he... who would even want to date Ten? He doens't even have a personality and is just a tool and an idiot-

Except everything he has seen now shows otherwise and... Why does Nine expect Ten to be the same way that their father wanted them to be?

Ten walks away with a wave and goes straight towards the castle. Looking a bit better as he is smiling and seems to have a small bounce in each step.

Dust watches him go before he just walks straight towards their hiding place oh shit when did-

Dust stops before them and looks unamused. His gaze cold and seemingly able to look straight into his soul. Nine would have been frozen even without the hand holding his neck.

Dust looks at Horror "Good catch H. Trouble?"

Horror hums "They tried to get into our king's wing. I was ready to give backup."

Nine feels himself grow cold. They had been followed? The whole time? They had been watched the whole time and they hadn't even noticed!

Nine... Nine may have been wrong about how capable these guys are...

Dust hums "Lets put them in the jail cell as time out. Children should know not to wander after all."

Nine feels humiliated as he and Ranha are dragged towards the castle. Dust walks behind them as Horror leads the way, Horror does not let them walk.

They walk by some servants and Nine sees it are the same maids that they met in the hallway. The maids giggle and nod respectfully to both Horror and Dust and greet them with "Hello my Knights." before they shoot a glance at Ranha and Nine before gigglign together.

They are dropped off in a cell each and the door is locked. Nine goes to check the lock only to realise there is magic woven into the very bars and walls. These locks aren't just physical but also magical. He can't break them out.

Horror hums "There. Children have their time out." he looks highly amused as he nods to Dust "Mind taking over watch?"

Dsut shrugs as he walks towards the exit "I will take your shift. you make sure the children behave." and he leaves.

horror looks at them amused and Nine feels terrible...

Not just the fact he looked like an idiot to the pretty and skilled skeleton. But he also made a fool out of himself to be caught snooping and trying to get into places he isn't allowed to be.

He sits on the bed and can't help but look at his own hands.

Does... does Ten really not want to come home? How can Nine get him to come along? Will he be forced to drag his brother home.

Nine pauses at the thought and feels a new horrifying feeling overtake himself.

When did he become so much like his father?

[rafeandonlyrafe]

tiny heels and future plans

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, soft!rafe, dad!rafe, toddler daughter, p in v sex, unprotected sex, talk of pregnancy, wedding (not readers)

words: 1.5k

“you always look gorgeous.” rafe says, a slight grin on his face giving away that he's not fully conveying his true feelings.

“but…”

“but that dress is ridiculous.” rafe lets his laughter out, watching you frown at first before joining him in chuckling as you look in the mirror.

“it really is horrible, huh.”

“well, it's your aunt's taste so…” rafe shrugs. you twirl back towards rafe.

“tacky.” you both say at the same time.

“i hope her idea for the flower girl dress is better than this.” rafe looks to the door, knowing jada will be getting up from her nap soon. 

“actually, i told her that we would take care of it.” you watch as rafe smile grows, realizing your daughter wouldn’t be stuck in a neon yellow dress covered in ruffles like her mama is.

“thank god.” rafe sighs. “and about you changing after the ceremony?”

“i was not able to convince her of that… yet.” you tsk. when your aunt invited you to be a part of her wedding, you didn’t even assume for a second it would be understated simply because its her fourth. she’s never been one to shy away from a big event, but being the richest woman in the outer banks means she gets away with her taste being pastels and colorful patterns.

“maybe you could tell her you still breastfeed jada sometimes and need a dress with a better top for it.” rafe shrugs. he doesn’t care what you wear, but he knows you would prefer not to be stuck in that so called dress for the entire evening.

“that’s actually not a terrible idea.” you admit before turning around, rafes hands coming to unlace the corset back as you let the dress fall to the floor. no point in trying to avoid wrinkles when there’s a million layers of ruffles.

“mmm, now that’s much better.” rafe smirks, eyes moving up and down your body, now only covered in your undergarments

you both move with a measured quickness, predicting each others next movements with fluidity until you both end up on the bed, lips attached together.

rafe is just about to reach behind your back to unclip your bra when you hear little footsteps coming down the hallway.

“the one time i need her to stay napping for longer…” rafe groans, rolling off the bed to intercept your toddler so you can get dressed in peace.

“this is what you get for always wanting her to get up earlier because you miss her.” you laugh as rafe sends a look to you before closing the door.

--

“i saw you shed a tear.” you say, causing rafe to whip around.

“jesus, how could i not.” he shakes his head, taking jada from your arms now that pictures with the wedding party were finished.

“are you hungry baby girl?” rafe asks.

“yes!” jada’s eyes light up. “wedding cake!”

you made the mistake of telling jada there would be cake at the wedding when going over what the day would look like, but you have been able to use it to your advantage, like promising her a whole slice if she walks straight down the aisle without stopping or crying.

“we have to wait for auntie tilly to cut the cake first, then we can eat.” you explain. jada looks to rafe with big eyes, her bottom lip pouting out.

“jada, don’t look at me like that.” rafe groans. jada has learned that she can get her way anytime she pouts to her dad.

“i think theres french fries inside, why don’t we have those first, hm?” you offer jada, who is happy enough to accept the compromise for now.

“so, yellow bridesmaid dress all night?” rafe asks as you head into the venue, your aunt continuing to take pictures with her new husband, only 30 some odd years her junior.

“yes, rafe.” you sigh. “i have not been able to convince her since you last asked me half an hour ago.” “well, you look pretty either way.” rafe turns jada in his arms so he can look at her, holding her close to his chest as a group of people walk by. “doesn’t mommy look pretty?”

you both know you should let her walk more, but she’s just so little you’re afraid of her getting trampled by wedding guests, and the fact that she’s not stable in her little heels doesn’t help your anxiety. “yes!” jada squeals her answer before cuddling into rafes neck.

--

“poor sleepy girl.” you laugh, one hand rubbing up and down rafes back while the other strokes jadas.

“i told her this was the last song we were dancing to.” rafe doesn’t bother to whisper, no amount of noise could keep jadas droopy eyes from closing. the party would still be going on for a few more hours, but as the final note of the song plays, you make your way quickly out of the venue.

“im gonna sit in back with her.” you tell rafe as you load jada into the carseat, knowing that if she happens to wake up on the ride home she won’t be happy about leaving the wedding.

“sounds like a plan.” rafe agrees, rounding the car to go to the drivers seat, wanting to get both of you home as quickly as possible.

after you’ve gotten back and unloaded the car (or at least most of it, some can always wait for morning), rafe takes jada to change her into her pajamas while you manage to get yourself out of the mess of ruffles.

“ah, my timing is perfect yet again.” rafe smirks as he walks into the room, just having taken off your bra.

“and definitely no baby to interrupt us this time.” you smile as you flop back onto the bed. with as big of a day as jada had, it’s even likely that she sleeps in tomorrow. 

rafe sets the baby monitor down on the night table anyways, always a little more cautious than you.

“can i say something corny?” you ask as rafe lays down next to you, his eyes moving from your exposed breasts up to your eyes.

“of course.”

“im so glad that when we got married i knew it would just be us. like- i just mean watching my aunt marry and divorce, marry and divorce. knowing that we would just be together.”

“i completely know what you mean.” rafe agrees. when he first told you he loved you, he also admitted you were the first person he's ever loved, that he had to do years of work on himself to get to the point where he even could.

you know about his past only through what he's told you and the little bit of gossip you've heard around the island, having not lived in the outer banks before moving in with your aunt in your early 20s.

“and now look at us.” you smile. “we have jada, this house, and a beautiful family.”

“a beautiful family that…” rafe bats his eyelashes at you, and that's how you know this is something he really wants. “i would love to expand.”

“i-” you can't help but laugh, a big smile stretching over your cheeks. “i already stopped taking my birth control. i was going to talk to you about it tonight.”

rafe can't help but surge forward and kiss you. he should have known that you were already feeling the same, already together in your future plans.

you pull rafe so he's hovering over top of you, your arms moving up and down his toned shoulders and biceps.

“let's get started right now.” you smile up at him.

--

“please.” you whine out, back arching off the bed. “please, rafe, i need it.”

his thumb circles teasingly around your clit again, never hitting it quite right to send you over the edge. 

“mmm, i guess you should cum first.” rafe pumps his hips again, knowing he's not too far from spilling into you himself.

“considering you work so hard growing out little ones.” its funny that rafe has already started to refer to your multiple children, despite jadas sibling being just a thought for now.

“yeah.” you nod. “let me cum.”

rafe finally relents, thumb not just touching your clit but rubbing into you, pulling and pushing on your flesh as your nerves light up, feeling the sensation throughout your whole body as your back aches and you let out a cry, wishing you could keep your eyes open to watch as rafe jaw falls open as he cums into you, but they squeeze shut, stars showing on your eyelids.

“fuck, fuck- y/n.” rafe grunts before whimpering your name, collapsing onto the bed but not before taking you with him, keeping your hips flushed together so you're now laying on top of his, softening cock still inside of you.

“can't pull out yet.” rafe just says, squeezing your ass as you nuzzle into his chest, knowing his mission from now until you're showing is to make sure there's another addition to your family soon.

[feralforbeanix]

Manfred Von Karma did not burn Phoenix's letters to Miles.

Like, I'm not even saying this to defend Manfred's character (though the fanbase does get a little crazy with what he actually did and didn't do) I'm saying this because that's not canon. I'm not sure it was even possible in canon.

Phoenix didn't write letters to Germany. He didn't know Miles was in Germany, let alone Von Karma's address. He didn't even know who Von Karma was until Edgeworth told him about Manfred in Turnabout Goodbyes.

In the game canon, Miles just stopped showing up to school one day. All Phoenix seemed to know was that he transferred schools suddenly. He didn't know why or where to. Remember, Phoenix didn't even hear about DL-6 until Turnabout Sisters when Maya mentioned her family's involvement.

Even in the anime canon (I haven't watched the anime in a while so I might be off about this) where Phoenix and Miles get a chance to properly say goodbye, Phoenix still doesn't have a direct means of contacting him. His best way of doing so was dedicating a song through the radio using Signal Samurai codenames and hoping Miles would hear it.

Phoenix mentions trying to contact him several times when explaining their relationship to Maya, but this was after finding out Miles was this "Demon Attorney". Miles would have to be at least 20 at this point in time, living back in California with at least a few trials under his belt. With how young he reached success, it's not impossible Miles was living on his own at the time. Even if he wasn't, I doubt Manfred was going through this grown adult's mail.

No, what the game seems to be implying is that Miles ignored Phoenix. (Maya even says, "I guess he didn't want to hear from his old friends.") And I don't think this was out of hatred or anything, I think Miles just wanted to forget his past entirely because even the good memories of his childhood would be bittersweet at best.

And to be honest that makes it even more tragic to me. Why do we need Manfred to intercept their connection when Miles' trauma and guilt complex is already doing that?

I like to think Miles knew Phoenix would be asking questions if he ever responded to those initial attempts at contact. Questions he of course doesn't want to answer because they'd at best open old wounds or at worst risk his childhood friend finding out he might have committed patricide.

I also like to think he knew Phoenix of all people would stubbornly try to find the answers Miles wouldn't willingly give because he literally mentions Phoenix always being "single minded in his work" and "always seeing things through to the end". If anyone was going to press and bring those uncomfortable and painful memories out in the open for the sake of "helping him", it would be Phoenix Wright.

Why do we need Manfred to take away all that complexity and tragedy? That is such a waste!

[g0dlyunsub]

holding on.

the six times that spencer squeezed your hand, and the six times you fell for him even deeper.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: mentions of bioweapons, undercover missions, injuries, blood, angst, fluff

word count :: 1.6k

author’s note :: my one brain cell has been occupied by protective!spencer as of late, so this is what we’re dealing with

accompanying song :: ugotme by omar apollo

the first time he squeezed your hand, it was during a handshake. 

you had just joined the bau, and as is customary in introductions, you held your hand out for a round of handshakes. with a tight-lipped smile, you looked into his face as you introduced yourself. 

“f/n l/n.”

his eyes — a charming shade of brown — stared right back at you. 

“i’m doctor spencer reid.”

he grasped your hand for only a fleeting second, but still gave it a gentle squeeze.

---

the second time he squeezed your hand, you were talking behind erin strauss’ back.

if it were hotch or any other member of the bau, spencer would’ve let everything play out and watched your panicked reaction with an amused smile. but it was erin strauss, and spencer could see that she was visibly agitated.

“a good section chief should have faith in the team’s decisions,” you pouted and looked up at spencer, who was chewing on a cookie and humming in agreement.

“she’s been telling me to call her every hour for an update on the case. last time, i was a minute late — a minute late, spence — and she just had to rub it in my face!”

you angrily rubbed the bridge of your nose, sighing as you vented to your colleague. his brows perked up, but you didn’t take note of it; in fact, you started to speak even louder as the rage continued to pile at the back of your throat.

spencer cleared his throat once, but you thought he was just trying to swallow his food. 

“honestly, spencer, do you think i should tell her?”

he blinked rapidly this time, hoping you would get the signal. but when you were still rambling by the time strauss was only a few feet away from your desk, spencer reached for your hand and squeezed it once.

you looked up in surprise, eyes widening as you waited for him to explain his gesture. 

but the voice that spoke up was strauss’.

“agent l/n, i would like to speak with you in private. now.”

you stood frozen for a few seconds, exchanging a panicked glance with spencer.

he gave you an apologetic grimace, but squeezed your hand once again, as if to wish you good luck.

---

the third time he squeezed your hand, it was during your first undercover mission. 

earlier that morning, swat had silently raided the home of two unsubs – a couple that went by the names of mr. and ms. stone – that were covertly collecting harmful biological agents.

after uncovering the news that they were planning to trade their bioweapons with a team of buyers, you and your team decided that the exchange would not fall through. the team revised the plan and decided that you and spencer would pose as the couple and intercept the trade.

so here you were, dressed in a dark green dress, the hem of the fabric flowing in the cool wind of the air-conditioned hotel lobby. spencer stood next to you in a black suit, hair falling in front of his eyes in the form of slick, wavy strands. 

time seemed to still when he reached behind you and squeezed your right hand four times – each to let you know how many possible targets were standing to your three o’clock.

that was all the signal you needed to get into character.

the two of you were a couple only for the night, but you put on a show that would’ve convinced any onlooker otherwise.

you snaked your hands around spencer’s neck before rising on your tiptoes and whispering, “are you ready, mister stone?”

he moved his hands to rest them around your hips, and ran his fingers through the smooth texture of your dress.

he dipped his lips near your ears, so close that his breath tickled your skin. 

“i am. are you, miss stone?” 

---

the fourth time he squeezed your hand, it was because you asked him to.

glass had struck your sides during the explosion, leaving a deep and dark gash in your flesh and surrounding it with a sticky stream of crimson red.

you tried to muster the strength to push yourself up, but it was too much. with a heavy sigh, you crashed back onto the ground.

thankfully, spencer was next to you in seconds.

he softly brushed over your cut skin, and when you flinched at the pain, he tried to console you by saying that the medics were almost here.

“almost?” you wheezed, struggling to keep your eyes open but still able to see that spencer had ripped a part of his dress shirt to wrap your split skin.

when he circled the fabric around your torso and started to apply pressure, you had to bite back a scream. you bit down on your bottom lip so hard that blood seeped through and filled your mouth with its metallic taste. 

“spencer- spence,” you gasped, and wrapped your hands around his.

“it’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeated, trying to reassure you as he continued to apply pressure to your sides.

“squeeze my hand.”

when he didn’t move his hand, you tried again. “please. i need a distraction.”

he furrowed his brows and gave you a hesitant look, but when he noticed the desperation flashing in your eyes, he complied. lifting his hands that were now stained with your blood, he gripped your hand and squeezed.

it felt like electricity coursing through your arm, but it didn’t hurt.

it felt oddly serene to have your blood sandwiched between your skin and his, to feel warmth amidst the draining cold.

---

the fifth time he squeezed your hand, you were on the verge of tears.

you and spencer were just about to regroup with the rest of the team to deliver the profile, but as the two of you were walking across the hallway, the victim’s mother leapt in front of you and yelled in a fit of rage.

“my daughter’s been gone for more than two days, and you haven’t done anything to find him!”

she pushed against your shoulders and you flailed your arms in an attempt to regain balance.

“you just sit around and pretend to work, but you don’t actually care. if anything happens to my monica, i’ll make sure you’ll never work this job ever again.”

that was the last strike that tipped spencer over the edge.

you didn’t even get an attempt to reason with her, because spencer grasped the fabric of her shirt around her shoulders and pushed her into the waiting room.

it wouldn’t be another five minutes before he stepped out, but you could see his face was flush with anger and disbelief.

yours was hot with shame.

approaching you with a concerned expression, spencer put his hand on top of your palm and squeezed. “that was completely inexcusable on her part-”

“it’s okay. i know.” you moved your hand away and forced a smile. 

you could see the words written all over his face — it’s not your fault, you did nothing wrong. yet you still couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt, of the terrible pain that comes with knowing that you’re doing everything you can but still failing miserably.

you walked as fast as you could to the nearest bathroom before spencer could stop you, tears already streaming down your face as you locked yourself up in the stall.

---

the sixth time he squeezed your hand, spencer showed a different side that you’d never seen before.

you and spencer were dating now, so showing affectionate gestures in public wasn’t a foreign concept to the two of you. however, the workplace was a different story. 

both of you did your best to adhere to professional conduct, as it was fundamental to being a federal agent. and although it took some willpower, you refrained from your usual hugs and playful nudges with spencer.

but the detective at the local p.d. was on your tail, unrelenting with his attempts to flirt with you.

“how does dinner at seven sound?”

he flashed his teeth at you and smiled, and it took everything you had within to not retch in front of him. 

“can we please focus on the case here?”

“can’t we talk about both at the same time?”

you sighed, your fingers itching to grab him by the collar and subdue him to a deathly hush.

“no, we cannot, and i’d appreciate it if you would stop-” you waved your hand in an annoyed gesture, “-stop whatever you’re trying to do.”

“you know you could’ve just said no.”

“i don’t think it would take any extra deductions to figure that she’s turning you down, detective.”

your shoulders lifted ever so slightly at the familiar voice, and you had to suppress a smile from surfacing on your lips when spencer took a seat beside you and squeezed your hand.

“it’s just friendly banter, agent. one that you’re not concerned with,” the detective spat back, his stare still fixed on you.

“doctor. it’s doctor,” spencer retaliated, “and i believe that i do have the right to be concerned when you’re making my team member uncomfortable.”

you were so fed up with listening to the detective ramble on and on, choosing to ignore your and spencer’s words. you stood up, braced spencer’s hand, and nodded your head towards a closed-off room.

“come on, babe, i’m tired of this. let’s talk about the case in private and grab dinner together later.”

spencer nodded, a proud gleam shining in his eyes as he stood and placed a hand behind your back. 

you felt your body warm up with fuzzy excitement when the detective tore his gaze away from you defeatedly and clamped his lips shut, and you smiled as spencer followed you out of the room with his grip lying on your hips.

---

every time spencer squeezes your hand, it’s a heartfelt reminder of how much he cares about you.

you don’t ever have to question it.

he knew he would care about you from the beginning, a fate decided by the stars when he locked hands with you for the very first time.

and he’ll prove it to you time and time again, all six reminders a testament to his dedication.