#ava x reader

[nickeverdeen]

Gingerbread Champion | Ava Silva x fem!reader

Pairings: Ava x reader (romantic), Beatrice x Ava (platonic), Beatrice x reader (platonic)

Type of fic: Fluff, Comedy

Warnings: None

Summary: Knowing Ava didn’t have a proper childhood after being paralyzed you decided to give her something that’d at least a tad bit make it better and gosh it did

———————

December had settled over the city with a soft chill, the kind that turned breath into mist and made staying inside under warm blankets irresistible. You had been prepping for this all afternoon, humming quietly to Christmas tunes as you carefully laid out gingerbread pieces, bowls of colorful candy, and tubes of icing on the kitchen table.

It wasn’t extravagant, but it was perfect in its own way. A gingerbread house competition for two.

Ava deserved it. After everything she’d been through, you wanted to give her something that felt light, carefree—something that let her be a kid, even just for a little while.

You were just finishing setting up the last of the decorations when the front door creaked open, and Ava stepped inside, cheeks red from the cold and a bag slung over her shoulder. Her smile when she saw you instantly lit up the room.

“Hey, you,” she said, kicking off her boots and dropping her bag by the door. “Miss me?”

“Always,” you replied, crossing the room to greet her. She leaned into you, wrapping her arms around your waist in a quick but warm hug. You pressed a kiss to her temple, and she sighed contentedly.

“Beatrice ran me into the ground today,” Ava grumbled, letting go and stretching her arms above her head. “I swear, if I ever hear the word ‘discipline’ again, it’ll be too soon.”

You chuckled, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Go shower and get comfy. I’ve got something planned for us tonight.”

Ava raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “Planned? Is it pizza and bad Christmas movies? Because if it’s not, I’m gonna be very disappointed.”

“Just go shower,” you said with a playful shove, steering her toward the bathroom.

When Ava returned, dressed in her favorite pair of sweatpants and a cozy oversized sweater, her damp hair falling loose around her shoulders, she froze in the kitchen doorway.

The table was a colorful mess of gingerbread walls, candy roofs, gumdrop chimneys, and every type of sprinkle imaginable. Two trays sat side by side, ready for battle.

Her eyes widened as she took it all in. “What is this?”

You stepped out from the corner, where you’d been fidgeting nervously with a tube of icing. “Gingerbread house competition,” you said, smiling softly. “I thought… you know, it might be fun. But if you’re too tired—”

Before you could finish, Ava turned to you, her smile spreading wide and bright. “Are you kidding? This is amazing!” She bounced on her toes, her exhaustion seemingly forgotten. “I’ve never done anything like this before!”

Relief flooded through you, and your own smile grew. “Good. Let’s get to it, then.”

The competition was chaos in the best way.

Ava threw herself into it with the enthusiasm of someone discovering something new and delightful for the first time. She didn’t hold back, using every sprinkle, every gumdrop, and every glob of icing she could get her hands on.

“Is this structurally sound?” you teased, pointing at her candy-laden roof as it started to sag slightly under the weight.

Ava waved you off, icing smeared on her cheek. “It’s not about structure. It’s about vibes.”

“Pretty sure houses need structure to stay standing,” you retorted, carefully piping snow-like patterns along the edges of your own gingerbread house.

“Yours is boring,” Ava shot back, sticking her tongue out at you. “Where’s the personality? The flair? The chaos?”

“Chaos isn’t exactly a compliment when it comes to construction.”

She narrowed her eyes at you, picking up a handful of gumdrops. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to love me, you’re sounding an awful lot like a critic right now.”

You laughed, dodging the candy she pretended to throw at you.

By the time the houses were complete, the kitchen was a disaster zone. Icing streaked the counter, gumdrops were scattered everywhere, and somehow, there was a candy cane stuck to the underside of Ava’s sock.

You both stood back to admire your creations, breathing hard from laughter and the effort of assembling tiny, sugary homes.

“Alright,” you said, crossing your arms and nodding at her house. “I’ll admit it—yours has flair.”

Ava grinned triumphantly. “And yours is sturdy, like… I don’t know, a bank. Or a prison.”

“Hey!” you protested, but you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

After a moment of silence, Ava looked over at you, her expression softening. “Seriously, though. This was… really fun. Thanks for doing this.”

You reached out, brushing a crumb of gingerbread off her sweater. “Anything for you.”

Her smile turned shy, and she leaned in to kiss you—a quick, sweet press of her lips that made your heart flutter.

As the night wore on, you sat side by side at the table, eating the leftover candy and sharing stories, the mess of the kitchen forgotten. Ava couldn’t stop stealing glances at the gingerbread house she’d built, pride glowing in her eyes.

It was such a simple thing, but seeing her this happy made it feel like the most important thing in the world.

And even if you didn’t say it out loud, you knew one thing for sure: next year, there was no way you were letting her win again.

[fandomnerd9602]

I don’t know if you know about the tv show warrior nun. But may I request a Ava Silva x male ghost rider reader

Ava slices thru a demon as Y/N kills another with his chain whip…

Ava: that was so hot

Y/N: the move or my chains?

Ava: pick one.

Y/N: you’re terrible

Ava: you’ll have to set me straight back at base (winks)

A demon tries to attack only for both Ava and Y/N to kill it…

Ava: I had it

Y/N: and I had you last night

Ava playfully smacks Y/N for that…

[idiomaticpunk]

You are the reason - Lilith, Warrior Nun.

Sister Lilith x reader (she/her), no names used. request by @loaksmuntxa fluff, some spoilers but it does not follow perfectly the plot. 1,7K words. 

english isnt my first language!!

The bond you shared with Lilith was special.

Yes, she was clearly rude at first, and she still was, even with how close the two of you were. Both of you were “legacies”. Her family being the halo bearer for 6 generations before Ava took over, and yours being known to be the mighty-protector, the one who taught everything to the halo bearer. It may sound a little bit dumb, considering that they were the one bearing the halo, but it takes a lot: mentally and physically. But your little spanish family was known to have a pure heart. And all the women in your family were amazing at archery, so that did help. Naturally, both of your family were very close. You balanced Lilith’s family’s harsh nature, while she balanced with your too soft family. But being legacies had its problems. The pressure from both of your family was extremely intense and that may have contributed to Lilith’s downfall with Adriel. But anyways, you both bonded on that pressure, especially after Ava took over Lilith’s role and Beatrice kinda took over yours. 

Don’t get it wrong, Lilith and you still had that bond before the incident, when Shannon was still the Warrior Nun. She was training all day, all night, and you can’t count on your fingers all the times you had to stop her from throwing an umpteenth knife around 3 am. Your hands softly touching her shoulder, before resting on it, while she nearly jumped from the contact of your hot skin against her cold one. You coaxing her to go to bed with pleading eyes, desperately trying to make eye-contact with her. Because that “damm fucking bond”, made her unable to resist to your sleepy eyes begging her to go to sleep. But every time, you would make eye contact, because that’s what you were good at, and she would end up cuddled against you in bed. Lilith would never admit that she was cuddling with you. It was more of her fulfilling her legacy-halo-bearer-duty, of course. She would never admit that she liked those soft touches, your fingers tracing the contour of her face-bones, that would always lull her to sleep. Or that she loved counting the moles and soft marks on your face when she thought you were asleep. 

The bond you shared with Lilith was special, unique, soft, and intimate.

It all changed when she changed sides, obviously. You couldn’t deny it, it was hurting to see that woman whom you shared so many intimates and soft moments, trying to kill Ava. She had grown wings. And God, they were beautiful and you couldn’t stop looking at it when you saw them. It was impossible to hurt her, or even to try to hurt her. You were an amazing fighter, and you helped Lilith with her training for years. But throwing a knife or an arrow at her felt wrong. Maybe it was your mother speaking into your head. “God, I hate her mother, but please don’t embarrass us more by killing the one you were supposed to help.” Or maybe it was that bond, telling you this wasn’t YOUR Lilith. That she needed help. Killing Adriel was the only way. And you knew she needed help and wanted it. With those new powers, new abilities, she had the opportunity to kill you, more than one. But weirdly enough, her knives, her arrows, and everything that could hurt you always ended up a foot away from you. The bond was speaking, even in her corrupted mind. 

Then, she disappeared for a while, but you didn’t stop fighting. You had your place next to Ava, Beatrice and that weird guy they found, Miguel. Your family had been fighting for years against devils, and killing Adriel would definitely bring back the honor in your family. So here you were, next to the portal, bow in your hand, and with the most cold face you could have put on. Facing Adriel and Lilith, the girl whom you shared soft kisses, shyly, in the dark, after a rough day. Lilith, who looked more and more unrecognizable, suddenly pulled Miguel’s heart, who was actually Michael or whatever, out of his chest, destroying the divinium bomb plan. Rising your bow, you throw a first arrow at Adriel, and you pray for you, and Lilith, as the fight begins. Everything is such a blur. Camila crying in Adriel mind’s, as she tells you, Beatrice protecting Ava from Lilith, you end up limping, bleeding nearly everywhere, a hand holding your left flank, stumbling every now and there, near the arch, your other hand bearing a sword, trying to stab as better as you could Adriel. His laugh resonates inside your ringing ears. “Miserable human…Fighting to protect the life of such an unknown person…Ava does not deserve this…Look at you, poor creature, putting your life at risk for her. You nuns are really mad.” Swallowing the blood in your mouth, you raise the sword once again, and God knows how, you actually touch him. And with the coolest smirk, that was so much like Lilith’s, you answered him weakly. “I am not doing this for Ava. I’m not saving Ava, but Lilith! I’ll try for centuries if she needs me to!” 

He catches the end of your sword and throws it across the room, the shining weapon ending up into a wall. That ugly laugh gets to your ears again, and as you see him talk, Adriel raises his leg, and God, he’s going to push you in that fucking weird dimension. And God you were swearing like Lilith. Speaking of, a black ball comes towards you at lightning speed, and you realize it’s Lilith, who dropped Ava in the corner, coming towards you like a fury. When you lose your balance, your hair flies out of place, your hand leaves your side, and you turn your head, trying to make eye-contact one last time with your Lilith. Now questioning every bit of your sanity, you try to understand why you’re not dead yet, as Lilith’s burned arm holds you, just a little bit above the floor, as her other arm throws a kick at her “master”, punching him a few feet back. God, when has she become this muscular? Her arms weren’t this strong around your waist before. You didn’t know if you were hallucinating, dead, or alive, but you can hear the confusion in Adriel’s voice, and feel the stares of your sisters. “"Lilith, the supposed halo-bearer choosing that human over me, Adriel, when I have shown you the true world! I have given you wings, power, everything you needed to avenge yourself! You have shown your true colors and weakness by choosing love over loyalty. You will regret this betrayal as much as you will regret ever crossing me. I will make sure that you suffer for your treachery and that you never forget the price of betrayal."

Now, you were clearly hallucinating, your head spinning, ears ringing like there were bells in your head, vision becoming more and more blurry, but all you can do is focus on Lilith’s beautiful face, counting her eyelashes one last time as her arms hold your bleeding figure tighter. “You were about to take away the only person that I loved! The only person who loved me for who I was before you turned me into a monster! She means the world to me, miserable human or not! And me alive, you will not hurt her!” Rage echoes in her voice, and soft and cold tears falling on your cheeks are the last thing you can remember. 

Everything's a blur, foamy memory. Everything but the pain that rushes to your nervous system when you move an inch of your body. A strangle moan leaves your body, and the door flies open. You want to scream, to run, to hide or even to fight. But you make eye-contact. With her. And she walks, not flies to you in a scared manner;like you were about to run away or even to disappear if she blinked too slowly. A smile falls on your face, and Lilith’s smile mirrors yours, and she sits on the chair next to the hospital bed. “Do you really think, after all this, I want you to sit next to me? I’m not made of sugar. I know, we are in public, and things have changed… You take a deep breath, eyes filling with tears as she abruptly stands up to wipe them as they only start to fall. Damm her and fast reflexes, and damn the way she so easily reads into you. Lilith's dark pink lips shushes you, but you nod softly, too scared to move your neck as you continue speaking. And if you knew better, you’d think her eyes were watery too. But right now, I just need you to hold me. How you want, where you want. I know this isn’t usual, but God it was so scary Lilith! I thought I lost you!” 

And Lilith shushes you again, because she knew. She now knew what it felt like to nearly lose your most-loved one, and how scary it is. She settles to the edge of the bed, her long dark hair framing her face perfectly, and the nearly angel looking girl that she was, holds your hand as the other cups your face lovingly. Loving you was easy, you made it look like the easiest thing ever. She was ready to love you. It would take time for her to heal, for the both of you. Especially with the holy-war that was coming. But she would protect you. It was her legacy. Loving you never felt so easy when she realized. Bearing the halo or avenging herself were not her only reasons to live. You were the reason.

[thatsgay-writes]

Hiya! I'm not entirely sure if you're requests are open, but.

Reader is the best sister warrior. (The best fighter. Aside from bearrice of course.) And she is tasked with protecting and training Ava,  Reader has some large and smaller scars across both her back and abdomen. (Ava sees them when r wears a sports bra or walks in on her changing her tshirt and asks about them. Ava also has a crush on r.) (Reader also never took the vows like Mary.)

The struggle between choosing to set this in season 1 or 2 was real.

Reader and Ava are slightly established.

Not ProofRead

"While Beatrice helps you practice phasing through the wall, I get to teach you how to fight." You tell Ava as the two of you stand in a large square mat that was provided by Jillian. You let out a whistle as you walk towards the rack of weapons on the wall. "Wow, times like these makes me wish I never... left my other job." You pick up a staff and try and get use to it's weight by spinning it a few times. "What? Nothing to say? Your usually so talkative." You say to Ava as you turn to face her, only to catch her eyes trailing back up your body. While you were not apart of the warrior nuns by way of scripture and not made to wear the habit like Beatrice and Camila, you still dressed in over sized long sleeved clothing. So seeing you in a skin tight sleeveless shirt was a nice surprise. "Sorry, just have no complaints about this arrangement." Ava says with a small smirk and you can't help but laugh. "Well then let's get started."

---

"Again." You say as you stand over Ava, staff pointed at the center of your chest. "C'mon we've been practicing for almost two hours!" Ava complains as she stands up. "Yeah and all the other warrior nun and guards are gonna let up when you get tired and sore." Ava groans as she gets back in to a fighting position. "I already told you, beat me and we're done." You barely finish your sentence as Ava charges you and tackles you to the ground. You try to maneuver her off of you but she knees you in the stomach and you concede. "Looks like training is over." Ava says with a smirk as she looks down on you, stilled pinned below her. "Great, so maybe you should get up and we could go get post work out smoothies or something." You tell her as you watch her eyes roam over you and you try your hardest to ignore your nervousness. "I don't know... I kind of like where I'm at."

You roll your eyes at her obvious attempt of flirting and try to return the comment with one of your own but are interrupted by Ava placing her lips on yours. You relax into the kiss and let Ava take the lead. She finally lets go of your wrists, which allows you to cup her face and neck when you feel her hands slip under the hem of your shirt. Ava breaks the kiss as she feels the uneven terrain of your skin under hands and goes to lift your shirt but you stop her. "Stop. Let me up." Ava looks like she's about to argue but you repeat yourself. "Ava, please." Ava gives in and gets off of you, holding her hand out to help you up but you ignore it and stand as fast as you can. "I'll... I'll see you later, ok?" You say to attempt to be casual but the way you practically sprint out of the room doesn't help.

---

You stare at yourself shirtless in the mirror. Eyes and hands tracing over the scars you accumulated over the years, before joining the nuns. You were so entranced, you hadn't heard Ava yelling your name from down the hall, outside the door, or even knocking. So she let herself in like she has done many times before, but this time she lets out a gasp that finally knocks you out of your stupor. "Ava! I-" You move fast to try and find the shirt you had been wearing just minutes ago. Ava doesn't say a word and silently walks up behind you before placing her fingers on one of the larger scars across your back. You freeze from the contact. "Is this what you didn't want me to see? Scars?" Ava asked confused. Everyone in the Warrior Nuns had scars, it wasn't surprising after being in countless battles. So why were you so secretive of yours?

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and turn to face Ava. "They're not just scars, well they are, but that's not why I was hiding them, well it kind of-" Words were just spewing out of your mouth at this point as you became more and more nervous and unsure of what to say. "Hey, y/n, breathe. Ok? It's just you and me right now, so just breathe." Ava says as she holds your face in her hands to get you to focus. "There ya go, just focus on me nothing else." Your breathing finally settles and you relax yourself into Ava's hold, causing her to smile. "Now you don't have to tell me why you hide your scars now or ever, just know that if you ever want to, I am here." Ava tells you serious and sincerely, a stark contrast to her usual blunt and joking manner.

"No, it's- I should tell you. I mean we kind of have something going on and you should know, in all, what you're getting into." You say as you sit on your bed and pat the spot next to you. "As you know, I never took the vows to be a full warrior nun. I kind of respect and follow them to a certain point. When I first joined the Nun, I was offered to take the vow but I declined. Not because I'm more loyal to Father Vincent than the church like Mary but because... I don't see myself as worthy enough." Ava almost immediately opens her mouth to defend you from yourself. "Please just let me finish."

"I know that doesn't necessarily make sense, especially since in most people's eyes, me just liking any gender makes me unworthy. But that's just their own distorted and incorrect views... Besides the point. Before I joined the Nuns I was a hitman, a gun for hire, not even for hire really. The man who... "owned" me, would beat us up if we didn't do what he asked." You can see Ava's eyes widen in shock, "Why did you stop?" She can't stop herself from asking. You let out a sigh and ring your hands together nervously. "It was my last mission. Kill a foreign diplomat before he could sign something. That's all I was told, I was given a location, date, and the exact time to kill the man. It was routine at this point. I would scale a building across the street or a few buildings away, line up sniper and wait..."

You feel tears well up in your eyes as you think back on your memory and Ava places a comforting hand on your shoulder. "The time hit and I fired my shot... and he leaned down. He bent his head down to sign the paper and I missed and... his family had been with him that day, they stood in front of him as he signed this paper..." Tears were spilling out of your eyes now and you wanted to stop, to not relive this memory but you pushed through. "I hit a kid. Straight in the stomach, where his dad's head was supposed to be. I didn't know what to do, so I ran, hid, and just kept replaying the moment over and over and over again in my head. How do you come back from something like that? How do I lay my head down at night and not see the kids face over and over again?" You say as sobs rack your body and Ava pulls you in closer, not knowing what to say. "Luckily, he survived... If he didn't I don't think I'd be here today." Ava finally lets the tears she was holding back fall.

"It's not your fault." Ava cringes, wishing she had found a better way to word what she needed to say. "Not my fault? I pulled the trigger. I missed! It wouldn't have been any better if I didn't miss. Imagine being the reason a kid has to watch his own father be murdered!" You yell as you stand up and start pacing the room. "That's... I didn't say that correctly." Ava stands up from your bed as well and stops you from pacing. "Look, I don't know exactly what to say in this situation but I will tell you what I think. You couldn't have known the mission would go wrong like that. You were put into an impossible situation by who ever was in charge of you. You can't shoulder all the blame onto yourself. I won't take away or minimize the pain you feel you deserve but I will carry it with you." You look into Ava's eyes surprised by her statement. Ava puts a finger to your lips to stop you from arguing with her. "I'm not going to run because of what you told me because I know you. I know that you feel deep guilt and regret for what you have done in your past. But I also know who you are now and I know that you are doing everything in your power to make up for what you did in the past. That's the Y/n I fell for. Not a perfect version you try to present to everyone else but the one that comes with a couple bumps and bruises... a couple scars. And until you are able to see yourself the way I see you, and even after then, you're stuck with me." All you can do is smile at Ava's words and feel the rush of relief as you pull her into you and into a kiss. "Thank you. Thank you, thank you." Is all you can say as you lay your head onto her shoulder and let the mask you were trying so hard to keep on, crumble.

[kwonkissed]

college!wonwoo who gets sick on campus one time and immediately develops a crush on the student nurse that assisted him at the health clinic.

you’re sweet and kind (like all nurses should be), but you’re also really chatty. talking about your humanities course and the readings you have that week. and wonwoo, being so whipped, just nods along thinking, “maybe I should read up on this sartre guy…”

when he leaves, he already misses the conversation. but he shakes it off. they’re cute and they’ve done your job, he thinks. now it’s time for him to get over it. except he doesn’t. because a few days later he finds himself back in the health clinic with an “earache”.

and he prays that you’re the one that attends to him that day, because if not, this would be really embarrassing. but it is you who opens the door to his room, a bit shocked that this cute boy has returned.

“hello, i’m— oh, it’s you. back so soon,” you quip, sanitizing your hands and walking over to him. “still having symptoms of your cold?”

“uh, no actually. something different. it’s,” he clears his throat. he’s never been a good liar. “um, it’s my ear this time.”

“hm, alright then,” you say with a smile. “i’ll get your vitals and check your chart, and then the doctor should be in shortly.” wonwoo nodded. you put the blood pressure cuff on his arm. your fingers dance across his bicep as you fit it around him, and he tries to will his racing heart to stop beating so hard — it’s going to give him away.

“everything looks good on my end,” you say as you flip through his paperwork. “it might be a minute, but a doctor will be in here. holler if you need me.” you give him a warm smile and turn to exit the room. ah, screw it.

“hey, I don’t know if this is too forward, but could i take you out sometime? or walk to you home? something?” wonwoo’s words spill out of him like a dam’s been broken. your eyebrows have shot you up your forehead, and wonwoo braces for this inevitable rejection.

you giggle. you’re giggling at him. wonwoo doesn’t know if this is worse than there being no response at all.

“aw, you’re cute,” you say, taking a step toward him. you bite your lip and look down at your watch. “i get off at two,” you whisper. a heat creeps up wonwoo face and it only makes you giggle more. god, he’d love to hear that sound forever.

“it’s a date then,” he says grinning. you beam back at him and close the door.

wonwoo’s so excited about seeing you later that when the doctor comes in for his appointment, he forgets which ear was supposed to be hurting.

[its-avalon-08]

Omg you recent lando fic has me smiling like crazy no joke.

I was hoping I could request something similar ish. Where reader is Max.V. Sister and Lando wants it to be secre, bu the reade thinks he only wants to keep it secret because he's going to break up with her soon. (Dating for a while), and when the reader tells Carlos this, he tells Lando, who decides to let the whole world know by running up to her and kissing her just before the race.

secrets and shushed voices (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, comfort

The buzz of conversation in the Red Bull hospitality was overwhelming, but Y/N Verstappen had mastered the art of tuning it out. She adjusted her team polo, flipping through her notes for Max's debrief, when she felt a presence near her. Without looking up, she muttered, “Unless you have coffee for me, I’m not interested.”

A soft chuckle answered her. “What if I said I could charm you into being interested?”

Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing at the source. Lando Norris leaned casually against the table, his grin infuriatingly perfect.

“Charm me?” she repeated with a raised eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume that’s possible.”

“Bold is my middle name,” he shot back, undeterred.

“Funny,” she quipped, turning back to her notes. “I thought it was ‘Overtakes on Softs.’”

His laugh was genuine, and she hated that it made her chest flutter. “Touché, Verstappen. Touché.”

Over the next few months, their paths crossed often—media days, driver briefings, paddock run-ins. Lando made it his mission to tease her relentlessly, and to her dismay, she found herself looking forward to it.

One afternoon, she’d been ranting about how Max ignored her race notes.

“I bet he ignores them because you write, like, an essay for every corner,” Lando teased, plopping down beside her in the lounge.

“You’ve never even seen my notes!”

“I don’t need to. You scream ‘overachiever.’”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her grin. “And you scream ‘class clown.’”

“Ah, but clowns are memorable.”

“Annoying, more like.”

“Annoyingly charming,” he corrected with a wink, making her laugh despite herself.

--

Their playful banter became a staple in the paddock, much to the amusement of their teams. Max often shot her knowing looks, while Carlos liked to poke Lando with, “Mate, just ask her out already.”

But Lando enjoyed the chase. Every lingering glance, every sarcastic comment, every moment they shared—it all felt electric.

One night after a particularly chaotic post-race party, they found themselves on a quiet balcony overlooking the marina.

“You’re surprisingly tolerable when you’re not trying to be funny,” Y/N remarked, leaning against the railing.

“And you’re surprisingly fun when you’re not intimidating,” Lando countered, nudging her playfully.

She looked at him, the usual walls in her eyes softening. “You don’t actually think I’m intimidating, do you?”

“Only in the best way,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You’re... different, Y/N. In a good way.”

Her breath hitched slightly, but she covered it with a smirk. “You’re such a flirt, Norris.”

“Only with you.”

--

It was after a rainy qualifying in Silverstone when everything changed. Y/N had stayed late in the garage, waiting for Max, when Lando appeared, soaked and grinning.

“What are you still doing here?” she asked, handing him a towel.

“Trying to decide if I should do something really stupid,” he said, his voice unusually serious.

“What kind of stupid?”

“This kind.”

Before she could process his words, he leaned in, his lips brushing hers softly. The world seemed to blur as she kissed him back, a hundred unspoken moments between them finally falling into place.

--

Dating Lando was like stepping into a secret world. Behind closed doors, he was thoughtful, goofy, and overwhelmingly sweet. But in the paddock, he insisted they keep their relationship under wraps.

“It’s not that I’m ashamed,” he’d said one evening, his hand brushing her hair back as they lounged on the couch. “I just want us to have this—our thing—without the world tearing it apart.”

She had nodded, understanding his reasoning, but over time, doubt began to creep in. What if he wasn’t ready to commit? What if this secrecy was his way of keeping an exit strategy?

As Lando hugged her tightly after another stolen moment in the shadows of the McLaren motorhome, her thoughts spiraled.

He’s holding on so tight, but for how long? Am I just a phase he’s going to grow out of?

His voice broke through her haze. “You okay?”

She forced a smile, burying her face in his shoulder. “Yeah. Just tired.”

But as he held her, all she could think was, How much longer until he decides to let go?

--

Y/N sat in the McLaren hospitality, her hands gripping a lukewarm cup of tea she wasn’t drinking. She’d just watched Lando breeze past her in the paddock—no glance, no smile, not even a quick touch on the arm. He’d turned the charm on for the cameras as if she didn’t exist, leaving her to stew in the weight of their secrecy.

She set the cup down with a loud clink and stormed out. A short walk later, she was in the Ferrari hospitality, where Carlos and Rebecca sat chatting.

“Carlos,” she blurted, her voice trembling. “He’s going to break up with me.”

Carlos frowned, sitting up straighter. “¿Qué? Who’s breaking up with you?”

“Lando!” she exclaimed, collapsing onto the couch beside Rebecca, her emotions spilling over. “He doesn’t want this anymore—I know it!”

Rebecca placed a calming hand on Y/N’s knee. “Slow down, cariño. What happened?”

Y/N sniffled, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. “It’s everything. He didn’t even look at me this morning. No hug, no kiss. Nothing. He just… walked past me like I wasn’t even there. And it’s not just today—it’s been months of hiding. He insists on keeping this a secret. I thought it was romantic at first, like we had something private, but now—” Her voice cracked as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Now you think it’s because he’s trying to find an easy way out,” Carlos finished, his tone heavy with disapproval.

Y/N nodded, sobbing into her hands. “He says it’s to protect us, but I don’t feel protected, Carlos. I feel like I’m not good enough for him to want people to know.”

Rebecca pulled Y/N into a hug, rubbing her back soothingly. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re more than good enough. If anything, it’s him who’s too blind to see what he’s doing to you.”

Carlos crossed his arms, his brow furrowed in thought. “Has he given you any reason to believe he doesn’t care about you anymore? Other than the secrecy?”

Y/N hesitated, her voice muffled against Rebecca’s shoulder. “It’s all the little things. He’s so different when we’re alone—he’s kind and loving and makes me feel like I’m the only person in the world. But the second we step into the paddock, it’s like I don’t exist. I just… I can’t do this anymore.”

Carlos’s face hardened, his protective side kicking in. “He needs to hear this, Y/N. But not from you—no, not while you’re like this.” He stood abruptly. “I’ll talk to him.”

“No!” Y/N sat up, her eyes wide. “You’ll just make things worse!”

“I won’t,” Carlos said firmly. “But he’s my friend, and I’m not going to sit here and watch him break your heart because he’s too much of an idiot to see what he’s doing. He needs a reality check.”

Rebecca nodded in agreement. “Carlos is right. He knows Lando better than anyone—you should let him handle it.”

Y/N sniffled again, her resolve softening under Rebecca’s calming presence. “You’re sure you won’t tell him I sent you?”

Carlos crouched in front of her, his expression softer now. “I’ll make it about what I’ve noticed. He’ll never know you said anything.”

Y/N nodded reluctantly. “Okay.”

Rebecca gave Y/N a comforting squeeze before Carlos kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll fix this, amiga. Trust me.”

As Carlos left, Y/N leaned into Rebecca’s side, her tears slowing but her heart still heavy. “What if he really does want to break up with me?”

Rebecca stroked her hair gently. “Then he’s the biggest fool on the planet, and we’ll make sure he knows it.”

--

Carlos leaned back in his chair in the McLaren hospitality, casually sipping on a bottle of water as Lando scrolled through his phone. They had been talking about summer break plans, with Lando suggesting a group trip to Ibiza.

“Ibiza would be fun,” Carlos said, setting his bottle down. “But only if you bring your girlfriend.”

Lando choked slightly, quickly glancing around to see if anyone overheard. “Shh, man!” he hissed, leaning closer. “What if someone hears you?”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “This is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Lando frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

Carlos straightened, his tone turning serious. “Y/N came to see me today. She’s convinced you’re going to break up with her.”

“What?!” Lando’s voice rose before he quickly lowered it, glancing around again. “Why would she think that?”

“Because, mate, you’re treating her like some big secret, like she’s something you’re ashamed of,” Carlos said bluntly. “Every time you refuse to acknowledge her in public, every time you say no to posting a picture or holding her hand, she feels like she’s not enough for you.”

Lando’s face paled, his phone slipping from his hand. “That’s not… I don’t—” He stopped, his mind racing. “I’ve never said I’m ashamed of her. I thought she understood why I wanted to keep it private.”

Carlos leaned forward, his eyes hard. “She might have understood at first, but it’s been ten months, Lando. She’s tired. And frankly, I don’t blame her.”

Lando opened his mouth to argue but stopped as Carlos’s words sank in. His mind spiraled into a series of flashbacks.

-flashback-

He remembered the first time she’d asked if she could post a picture of them on her story. It was a harmless shot—just their intertwined hands on a table.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he’d said quickly. “You know how people can be.”

Her smile faltered, but she nodded. “Yeah. I get it.”

-flashback-

After a race in Monaco, Y/N had waited for him by the McLaren motorhome. When she tried to hug him, he’d gently pushed her into the shadows.

“Not here,” he’d whispered, glancing around nervously.

Her shoulders had slumped, and she took a step back. “Right. Sorry.”

-flashback-

At a post-race party, Rebecca had taken a picture of them laughing together. Y/N had been so happy, showing it to him with a hopeful smile.

“Becca sent this to me. Can I share it?”

Lando had hesitated. “Maybe not. It’s just… better if we keep it private.”

The light in her eyes had dimmed, though she tried to mask it with a nod. “Okay.”

present day

Lando’s chest tightened as the memories hit him. He hadn’t realized how often he’d dismissed her feelings or how much his need for secrecy had chipped away at her confidence.

“She thinks I want to break up with her?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Carlos nodded, his expression softening. “She’s scared, Lando. She loves you, but she’s scared that you don’t feel the same way.”

Lando ran a hand through his hair, his heart aching. “I’m such an idiot.”

Carlos smirked faintly. “You said it, not me.”

Lando ignored the jab, his mind already working. He couldn’t let her think he didn’t care. He couldn’t let her feel like she wasn’t enough.

“I need to fix this,” he said firmly, standing up so fast that his chair scraped against the floor.

Carlos leaned back with a satisfied grin. “About time.”

Lando’s mind raced with ideas, his determination growing. He’d spent months hiding their relationship from the world—now, he’d show everyone exactly how much she meant to him.

--

The pre-race chaos was in full swing. Mechanics bustled about, drivers made their final rounds with engineers, and the paddock buzzed with energy. Y/N stood to the side near the McLaren garage, watching quietly as Lando spoke with his team. Her arms were crossed, her heart heavy from the morning’s events.

She had seen him arrive, head down, moving past her like she didn’t exist. Again. The weight of the past few months pressed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

Rebecca’s words from earlier played in her head: “If he doesn’t see what he’s doing to you, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

Maybe he doesn’t.

Suddenly, she noticed Carlos walking toward Lando, giving him a nudge and pointing in her direction. Lando froze, his head snapping up. Their eyes met briefly before Y/N turned away, unable to handle the hurt.

But before she could step back into the crowd, she heard his voice calling her name.

“Y/N!”

Her heart jumped. She turned to see Lando jogging toward her, his race suit partially unzipped and flapping as he moved. She frowned, confused. What is he doing?

As he reached her, he stopped, slightly out of breath. “I need to talk to you.”

“Now? You’re about to race,” she said, her tone wary.

“Now,” he insisted, his blue eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her stomach flip. “I’ve been an idiot, and I need to fix this.”

“Lando, what are you—”

He didn’t let her finish. Instead, he stepped forward, cupping her face gently with his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m so sorry for making you feel like you’re not enough, for hiding what we have, for… everything.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Lando…”

“I was scared,” he admitted, his forehead resting against hers. “Not of being with you, but of the world ruining what we have. I thought I was protecting us, but all I did was hurt you, and I hate myself for it.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back. “I thought you didn’t want me anymore,” she whispered.

His eyes widened in shock. “No. God, no. I want you, Y/N. I love you. I’ve loved you since the day we met, and I’m done pretending I don’t.”

Before she could process his words, he pulled her into a kiss—deep and unapologetic, right there in the middle of the paddock.

The world around them seemed to pause. For a moment, there was only him—his lips on hers, his arms wrapped tightly around her, as if he was afraid to let go.

When they finally broke apart, she noticed the stunned silence around them. Cameras clicked furiously, and the hum of murmured voices grew louder.

“Lando…” she started, her cheeks flushed.

He grinned, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “Let them talk. I don’t care anymore.”

“But the team, the media—”

“Let them say what they want,” he interrupted, his voice firm. “I’m not hiding you anymore, Y/N. You’re my girlfriend, and the whole damn world is going to know it.”

Y/N stared at him, her heart pounding. His words, his actions—it was all so overwhelming.

“Say something,” he said nervously, his grin faltering.

She threw her arms around his neck, holding him tightly. “I love you too,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.

Cheers erupted around them, and Carlos’s loud, teasing whistle cut through the noise. “¡Eso es, chico! About time!”

Lando laughed, resting his chin on her shoulder. “You good now?”

Y/N nodded, her tears finally spilling over—but this time, they were happy ones. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Good,” he said, pulling back just enough to look at her. “Because I’m not going anywhere, and I’m making sure everyone knows it.”

She smiled through her tears, and he kissed her again, sealing the promise with every ounce of love he felt.

[greenorangevioletgrass]

tuesday in the park (a.d.)

pairing: divorced!art x reader

synopsis: your alone time at the park takes an interesting turn when a little girl breaks the quiet, but maybe... her dad is a good company.

warnings: language, smoking, mention of divorce, lily is an adorable lil oblivious cupid, sooo much tension tho, maybe smut in future parts? idk

notes: i am back and pathetic bitch boy art has officially given me a brainrot. this is also very self-indulgent and heavily based on my irl experience (except the fact that it's art, sadly) soooo... enjoy!

✨I do not have a taglist. Please follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notification to get the latest update on my fics✨

City parks are fucking depressing. Especially the industrial type that’s square, and covered in concrete and has, like, four trees. They’re all well-manicured and hung with string lights, but there’s still barely enough greens to call it a park. And to add insult to injury, a Tiffany’s installation art currently sits at the head of the park—a giant diamond ring in a lush velvet box the size of a Range Rover. It’s gaudy as shit, and the massive Aston Martin billboard overhead is an assault to the eyes. You honestly have no idea why you’re sitting here.

Oh, right. It’s like 2PM on a Tuesday afternoon in some downtown office area, so there’s nobody else there. You can just sit and smoke and watch the water spout from the ground in pretty patterns. The steady rhythm of the fountain jets quiets the chaos in your mind.

Inhale. Exhale. As the fountain hisses and ceases, hisses and ceases…

And then suddenly… another pattern.

A pitter-patter. Like little footsteps. Quick moving, and then it stops. Right to your left.

You turn your head and see a little girl sitting right next to you. Her white sneakers look so small next to yours. She pushes a lock of dark ringlets off of her face as she watches the floor fountain in quiet curiosity and awe.

It takes you a moment to realize you still had a cigarette in your hand. You quickly stub it out as far from her as you can. “Uh… hello.” You frown at your own words, but how the fuck do you talk to kids in this situation?!

But the kid looks up and smiles at you politely. “Hello.” she nods and then returns her gaze to the water bursting in canon.

You’re even more confused. She doesn’t even seem deterred by sitting next to a stranger—willingly, at that. “Well, are you… are you alone?” 

“No. With my dad,” she answers, light as a feather.

“Oh, good. Good.” You sigh in relief and look around for any sign of a parent, adult, anyone looking for a missing child. “Where’s your—”

“Lily! There you are!” A man’s voice cuts through the dull noise of the city. You turn around to see him rushing over to the little girl, grimacing apologetically at you. “Sorry. I’m not a negligent father, I swear. I just… turned around and this little monkey’s run off.”

The little girl—Lily, apparently— giggles as her dad throws her a look, gentle but firm. “You said we could watch the water fountains, Daddy!”

“Yeah, but don’t run off like that…” He rolls his eyes, though you notice his sharp jaw twitching with a hidden smile.  And then, leaning into Lily’s ear but still loud enough within your earshot, “And you certainly weren’t supposed to invade this nice lady’s personal space—”

“It’s no trouble. I was just sitting here,” you quickly wave him off.

“Daddy, can I play over there?” Lily points at the streaming water at the center of the park.

The man pulls a face. “I don’t know, Lil—”

“Come on, Daddy…” 

“No way.”

“Just for five minutes. Please?” She bats her eyelashes, and you can immediately tell it’s her father’s Achilles heel. Because as much as you try to stay out of the conversation, you can hear the audible sigh coming from him, followed by,

“Fine. Five minutes, okay?”

The little girl bolts off to the fountains, tiny hands reaching out to the jet streams, testing out how strong it is. Figuring out the fountain pattern and stepping on each jet right as it shuts off, one foot after the other. It makes you wish it was socially acceptable for adults to do that, too. 

“You’re free to sit and watch her from here, if you want.”

He looks at you, like really looks at you for the first time. At your rolled-up button-down, the chain around your neck with a pendant he can’t see under your collar. But mostly at your kind eyes—weathered, witnessed, but somehow not judging.

He pushes his short blond hair out of his face the same way the little girl does, and the similarity almost makes you laugh… if you weren’t so worried about making a fool of yourself in front of this handsome man. “You sure? I… didn’t want to intrude.”

You shake your head softly and scoot over on the steps, allowing him just enough space to sit down.

He notices the stubbed cigarette between your forefinger and middle finger. “You got another one on you?”

It takes you a beat to realize what he’s talking about. “Oh!” You reach for your pack of Camel, and offer it to him, one cigarette stick already pushed out for easier access.

He takes it with a polite smile, but then pauses upon realizing he has no lighter either. “Um, do you mind if I borrow—”

You lean in as he puts it between his lips, one hand cupping the light from the breeze, and his heart stops at how close you are. Close enough to notice the gloss on your lips. Close enough to get a faint whiff of your floral perfume.

(And unbeknownst to him, your heart stutters a little, too, and you hope he doesn’t notice the way you fumble lighting your own cigarette.)

“Thanks, um…” he trails off. 

You tell him your name, and he repeats it almost thoughtfully. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, like he’s chasing the taste of your name as it leaves his mouth.

He nods. “I’m Art.”

He does look like it. The navy blue sweater hangs just right on his broad shoulders, understated but high-quality. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing a sleek black Piguet around his wrist. A simplicity to complement his refined features. His bone structure is cut like the gods, but the permanent frown etched between his brows, casting a shadow over his deep-set eyes, tells you that he is facing the troubles of man. And the awkward way he’s holding his cigarette makes him look like a boy. Of course, you can’t say any of that to him, so you settle with,

“Nice to meet you, Art.”

He can’t remember the last time somebody said that to him and meant it. And right now, sitting in this concrete park alone, he can see no pretense coming from you. No ass-kissing, no sizing-up, just a genuine kind gesture of a stranger. And it makes him so fucking relieved. 

“So what brings you out here?”

“Work, actually. A meeting,” Art replies somewhat vaguely. He’s not really keen on divulging the details of sponsorship and endorsement deals. Not when you don’t seem to know who he is. “Lily saw the park from the window and insisted we check it out when we’re done.”

“Ah, does she normally tag along with you to work meetings?” You ask with a playful glint, although the unspoken question of his whole situation is well heard. “She should. She looks like a great negotiator. Just saying.”

He chuckles. “Maybe she should. My, uh…” Art stops himself before he could say ‘wife’ because Tashi isn’t that anymore. Not his wife because they aren’t married anymore; not his coach either, because he doesn’t play tennis anymore. “Lily’s mom and I take turns every other week.”

And there it is. Your lips pull up into a soft line, not quite a smile but a gesture of understanding. “Must be tough.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s a lot of changes. But she’s doing okay, I think…” Art pauses, “I hope.”

You follow his gaze and look at Lily, who must be playing some kind of Indiana Jones fantasy scenario with the water fountains. Not an ounce of care in the world. “She looks like a tough kid.”

“She is.” Art smiles bittersweetly. “Anyway, you didn’t come here to listen to my sob story. What brings you to this park?”

The air that pulls both of you in releases, and you lean back on your elbows against the concrete. “Oh, I just finished work and I… needed some air.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m an interpreter.”

His eyebrows shoot up in interest. “Like the Nicole Kidman movie?”

“Exactly.” You point your half-cigarette at him, and share a tentative smile with him.

“Do you do, like… high-profile, UN-related assassination investigations, too?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “It’s not nearly as cool in real life. Most of it’s pretty boring, like contract negotiations and focus group discussions…”

“But the stories you must’ve heard, right? Or do you just… zone out at some point?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes you end up shutting off your brain and go on autopilot.”

“But not today?”

You smile ruefully at him, and he knows the answer. You take a thoughtful puff of your cigarette. “It’s… a bit hard when they’re talking about… how they had to jump off of the ship and swim across the channel in the dead of night, because they would rather die in the open water—a couple of them did— than die working in the fishing vessel…”

“Fuck.”

“And I know it’s not really meant for me—they’re talking to my client sitting next to me. But when they look you in the eyes and speak to you…” you trail off, taking a long drag of your cigarette.

Art takes it as a cue for his cigarette, too, although he notices you tapping the ashes off one, two, three times. “Must be tough.”

You roll your eyes playfully at him for quoting your own words back to you. “Ah well, it pays the bills. Besides, I get to clock out at 2PM on a Tuesday and enjoy this…” you inhale through your teeth disdainfully, “beautiful, brutalist… Soviet-core park.”

He laughs, the real kind of laughter that throws his head back, and it warms your heart enough to laugh, too. “It’s bullshit, isn’t it?”

“It’s bullshit! And what the fuck is that horrendous giant ring doing here?” The two of you cackle over the installation art across the park. “And that billboard… it’s ridiculous.”

Art’s laughter dies down on his lips as he looks up at the billboard in question. The Aston Martin “Game Changers” campaign from last year. Fuck. Even when he’s completely separated from Tashi, her presence still looms over like a panopticon.

You turn to him with a smile still etched on your face, completely oblivious to the storm in his head. “What?”

But he looks ahead, too caught up in the hurricane to hear you. He just… looks up at the billboard, his face darkens.

Oh.

You feel silly for not putting two and two together—you’ve been staring at the billboard mindlessly for a good fifteen minutes, goddammit— so you tread very carefully. “That, uh… Lily’s mom?”

Art looks down on his lap, as if not daring to look at Tashi’s picture. Or at Lily, or at you. “Yeah.”

There’s no right word for it. There’s no coming back from this, nothing he can say can make this better, and he can’t help but kick himself for fucking up. What he is fucking up, he’s not entirely sure. But he’s not ready to end this conversation with you, not on such a weird note.

“I can’t imagine what it must be like…” because you can’t. Losing a spouse is hard enough, but to have it out there in the open…

“It’s tough,” he nods in confirmation, and you smile feebly at his attempt at a callback to your little inside joke. To the moment where things are fine, all things considered. 

If the air ebbed and flowed earlier, it must’ve just… froze now. You don’t even remember the cigarette in your hand until the ash falls onto your hand and you gasp at the sudden heat, putting it out on the ground.

“I’m sorry. I should get out of your hair—”

“Do you wanna get a drink some time?”

The question catches both of you off-guard, eyes blinking at each other in shock. He didn’t think he heard you right, and your mouth seems to work faster than the filter in your brain.

Your face runs hot, and you chuckle sheepishly. “Sorry. You probably don’t wanna hear that—”

“I do.” He’s not sure which question he’s answering. Maybe both? Definitely both.

“Oh! Um…”

And right in that moment, Lily comes padding over with squelching steps in her shoes, completely drenched but over the moon. “Daddy, Daddy, that was so much fun! Can we come back here? I see lights on the floor, and I think the fountain lights up at night!”

Art puts out his cigarette under his shoe, chuckling at his daughter,  “Baby, you’re soaked! Did you try to take a shower there or something?” immediately wringing water out of her hair.

“I’ll take a real shower when we get home.”

“Well, duh. But I don’t want you to catch a cold… come here.” He crosses his arm to grab the hem of his sweater and tug it over his head to put it on his daughter.

The girl looks thoroughly unamused as the clothing item falls halfway down her calves and the sleeves nearly touch the ground. “Daddy, this is ridiculous.”

You grin, and you can’t help but wonder how much of that sass came from Art. “Looks pretty chic to me.”

He nods at you, glad that you’re backing him up. “Thank you.” He then turns to Lily pointedly.

Lily half-smiles at you. “Thank you,” although she still isn’t quite convinced.

“I’m sorry, we really gotta go. But how do I, um…” he trails off. Gosh, he was hoping to do this out of Lily’s sight. Lily’s sight means Tashi’s sight, and he’s not ready for that talk just yet.

“Take my card.” You whip out a neat stainless steel case, and slides out a white-and-blue business card. Your name is printed in a sleek black font, right above ‘Interpreter’ in a smaller case. Your email and phone number follows.

His fingers brush against yours as he takes it, and he prays to God or whoever is up there that he doesn’t give anything away to you or Lily. Not a quirk, not a peep. Just two strangers connecting by chance.

“Thank you.” He nods evenly as he pockets the card, trying to contain the butterflies in his stomach—he’s always thought he was too old for that by now, but maybe… just maybe… “You have a nice day.”

“You, too.” You squint up at him under the sun, and then smile and wave at the little girl. “Bye, Lily.”

She waves at you as Art sweeps her up into his arms, and you don’t let yourself turn all the way around to watch them leave. Instead, with one final look at Art’s “Game Changers” billboard ad in the distance, you grab your pack of Camel and light another cigarette between your lips.

[sweetbcgs]

sevika who keeps your face in the sheets while going at it because you pissed her off, cumming so much on her strap its all over the bed. shes gripping your hips so hard, she's not slowing down and you're sobbing

sevika who then scoffs as your sobs and flips you onto your back, starting to mock your sobs and pleads as she destroys you🤤🤤🤤

[littlemissfawnn]

may I get a kiss?

( the girl in the picture is @avaaleyrementegui on tiktok and instagram )

[cricketcanelane]

Can't stop thinking about brat!Patrick who gave his teachers hell at school. Yapping constantly, never studies, spitballs flying, the works.

Had more than one teacher longing for the good old days of corporal punishment where an unruly student soon felt the sting of a ruler or cane on the back of the knees. And not just the old ones who've been teaching for way too long - pretty graduates with high pony tails who've been told to lead with empathy first...ok maybe Patrick was trying to peek up her skirt by looking in the reflection of her patent leather heels.

Looking back he knows it was his own demented way of getting attention. Even some of his first wet dreams featured curvy faceless figures in tight skirts looking down through their glasses at his crotch and telling him how bad he was for making a... mess.

It's cheesy as fuck but student/teacher is still one of Patrick's favourite categories on PornHub. But not just barely legal girls in plaid skirts getting fucked over a desk - boys...boys who gets spanked for their misbehavior till they beg their teacher for forgiveness while thanking them for the important lesson in the same breath.

After telling you his tales of torturing teachers you decide a proper punishment is looooong overdue. The glasses, penicil skirt and thick wooden ruler were easy to find - a school boy uniform in Patrick's size was a little harder.

Patrick can't decide whether to laugh, whimper or moan at the sight of you on the sturdy chair in the middle of the living room, legs crossed, hair in a tight bun. But you're showing an obscene amount of cleavage and tapping the ruler menacingly against your open palm and blood rushes from his head to his cock.

It's a little pathetic how easily he clambers over your lap, bare ass up but he can't help it - he wants the sting of the ruler so bad he's almost drooling. Patrick wants to beg you to squeeze his throbbing cock between your soft thighs as you spank him but the friction of the fabric is scratching the flushed and angry tip just right. He doesn't need to hump his hips, the rhythm of the blows is gonna make him paint your lap white with cum.

Fuck it feels good to be bad.

[amphibiahawks321]

[Ava staring at something completely annoyed, Peter walks up next to her]

Ava : ......

Peter : Woah! What's got you so grumpy?

Ava : .....it's nothing

Peter : Yeaaaaah no one is gonna fall for that, did you actually sleep on the wrong side of the bed-

Ava : No... And it's still none of your concern... I'm fine...

Peter : Hey I'm just trying to help! You see i myself have been in the same situation like you before and–......Ooooooh

[Peter stares what's In front of him]

[Shows Y/N enthusiastically and energetically petting a white cat in his hands]

Peter : The irony huh?

Ava : I just don't understand I am literally RIGHT here

Peter : Yeah that's a shame... Let me handle this✨

[Peter starts walking towards Y/N making Ava panicked because she knows his probably gonna do something stupid]

Ava : Wait what!? Don't you–....Uuughh

[Peter walks up to Y/N and whispers something to him making Y/N gives the cat to Peter]

[Y/N walks up to Ava and puts both of his hand onto both of her cheek]

M!Reader : Chuckles because of a cat?

Ava : ......

[Ava placed her head onto his shoulder making Y/N immediately hugs her]

......

[Without Y/N noticing Ava and Peter gives each other thumbs up to one another]

[nickeverdeen]

Caffeine Crush | Ava Silva x fem!reader

Pairings: Ava x reader (mutual crush), Beatrice x Ava (platonic)

Type of fic: Comedy, Comfort

Warnings: None

Summary: Falling for a barista is a struggle for Ava and despite that she still comes back to see you and talk to you even if it’s just a few words, that is until you have to make the first step ‘cause she definetly will not.

——————————

Ava was still adjusting to life outside the orphanage, and while the world felt big, scary, and overwhelming, it was also beautiful. She wandered aimlessly through the streets, soaking up the sunshine, the noise, and the freedom. Every step felt like an adventure.

Eventually, she stumbled upon a cozy little café on a quiet corner, its warm light spilling out onto the sidewalk. The inviting smell of baked goods and coffee called to her, so she stepped inside.

The moment she walked in, Ava was greeted by the soft hum of conversation, the gentle whir of an espresso machine, and the sight of you.

Standing behind the bar, you moved gracefully, preparing drinks with practiced ease, a smile tugging at your lips as you handed a latte to a waiting customer. Ava stopped in her tracks, suddenly feeling like the air had been knocked out of her chest.

Wow.

You were gorgeous. She couldn’t stop staring. The way you seemed so at ease, the little crinkle in your nose as you focused on a drink—it was mesmerizing.

“Hi there! What can I get you?” your voice snapped Ava out of her thoughts.

She blinked, realizing she’d been standing there gawking for who-knows-how-long. Her cheeks burned as she stammered, “Uh, coffee! I’ll have… coffee.”

“What kind of coffee?” you asked, amused by her flustered state.

Ava glanced at the menu board, scanning it quickly. “Just, um, black coffee.”

You nodded, hiding a smile. “Coming right up.”

In a few minutes, you returned, setting the steaming cup in front of her. The foam on top was shaped into a small smiley face. Ava’s lips quirked up at the sight, her heart fluttering for reasons she couldn’t explain.

“Enjoy!” you said warmly before turning to the next customer.

Ava moved to a nearby table, clutching the cup like it was a lifeline. The first sip hit her like a slap in the face.

Bitter. Gross. Awful.

She grimaced, staring at the offensive liquid in disbelief. How did people drink this stuff? But as much as she hated it, the memory of your smile made her resolve to finish it.

Back at the church, Ava sat beside Beatrice during a brief break in her training. She fidgeted, clearly preoccupied.

“Bea, can I ask you something?”

Beatrice glanced up, her expression patient. “Of course.”

“So, hypothetically…” Ava began, her voice casual but far too eager.

Beatrice raised an eyebrow. “Hypothetically?”

“Yeah, yeah. Hypothetically,” Ava repeated. “If someone—let’s say me—felt… weird around another person. Like, I don’t know, their heart raced a little, and they couldn’t stop thinking about them. And maybe—again, hypothetically—they started doing dumb things like drinking coffee even though they hate it just to see this person…”

Beatrice’s lips twitched in amusement. “You’re describing love, Ava.”

“What? No! That’s ridiculous. I just met—I mean, this hypothetical person just met them!” Ava protested, waving her hands.

Beatrice’s gaze softened. “Sometimes, feelings don’t take long to appear. They don’t have to.”

Ava frowned, clearly uncomfortable with the revelation, and changed the subject. But as Beatrice returned to her book, Ava’s thoughts remained on you.

Over the next week, Ava became a regular at the café.

Every day, she walked in, her heart doing flips at the sight of you. And every day, she ordered coffee, grimaced through the first sip, and then pretended to enjoy it just so she could stay a little longer.

You noticed. It was hard not to.

One afternoon, after setting yet another black coffee in front of Ava, you leaned on the counter and said softly, “You know, drinking this much coffee isn’t great for you.”

Ava froze mid-sip, her eyes darting to yours. “Oh! Uh, yeah, totally. I’ll cut back. For sure.”

You smiled gently. “Why do you drink it if you don’t like it?”

Ava’s mouth opened and closed a few times before she blurted, “Because you’re gorgeous”

Your eyebrows shot up, surprised, but not unkindly.

Realizing what she’d just said, Ava turned beet red. “I mean—that’s—I—uh—I gotta go!” She fumbled to pull out cash, tossing it onto the counter before bolting for the door.

As she was trying to disappeared, you chuckled to yourself and slipped a receipt into her coat pocket.

Back at the church, Ava sat on a bench, replaying the humiliating scene in her mind. She shoved her hands into her coat pockets and froze when her fingers brushed against a piece of paper.

Pulling it out, she unfolded it, expecting a forgotten receipt. Instead, she found your name and phone number scrawled in neat handwriting, accompanied by a small heart.

Ava let out a loud, startled yelp, startling the nuns around her. She clamped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.

Beatrice, standing nearby, shot her a disapproving look. “Quiet, Ava.”

But Ava was already running toward her, a ridiculous grin on her face and the paper clutched tightly in her hand. “Bea! Bea! You’re never going to believe this!”

Beatrice sighed, but she couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto her lips as Ava began to ramble.

[fandomnerd9602]

Y/N the Spideypool confronts the White Tiger herself, Ava Ayala…

Y/N: here kitty kitty kitty

Ava pulls off her mask…

Y/N: oh my…hello kitty!

Ava: cute. I’m taking down Kingpin!

Y/N: no can do gorgeous. The power vacuum alone could destroy New York

Ava: move or be moved!

Ava readies her claws…

Y/N: cute kitty got claws

Y/N readies his katanas…and then tosses them aside…

Y/N: I can’t fight you. We’re both semi heroes and I’m a huge Jenna Ortega fan. Wanna go get tacos?

Ava: yeah okay

For @jacenradio7

[jeridandridge]

Melissa x reader media post vacation edition #2

[kwonkissed]

NEW YEAR'S DAY ☆ C.HS

Kissing at midnight on New Year's Eve is said to bring good luck and bounty to the upcoming year. It looks like you and Vernon both have to overcome your apprehension of being open with your feelings in order to have the best luck word count: 3.1K warnings: mostly fluff, making out, mentions of alcohol (it's new years guys), dry humping

Vernon was upset with you. How could he not be? You'd been helping him with his New Year's Eve party all day. No matter what he did, there was no way he could get you to take a break. He had to admit though, your dedication was admirable. What did you say? Something along the lines of, "As your best female friend – best friend really – it's my job to assist with matters like these."

Well, as angry as Vernon was that you hadn't taken any time for yourself aside from changing outfits in his spare room, he was thankful for the work you had done. His house looked absolutely amazing. The Christmas tree was in perfect order, balloons and streamers strategically placed, hors d'oeuvres meticulously positioned in the most aesthetically pleasing way possible—all of which you masterfully orchestrated with that brain of yours.

Still, with all the effort you both had put into the event, Vernon wanted to ensure you were having a good time. You deserved it. 

He looked over to your spot in his kitchen. You were standing near the punch bowl with your head tilted back in laughter at something one of your mutual friends said. He smiled and nursed the champagne in his hand. You looked so beautiful in that black dress and your diamond studs. So lovely and warm and inviting. He wishes he could kick everyone out of his house this very second so that he could be with you all by himself.

Vernon began to feel his ears burn. You always said that when a person's ears burn, that means someone's talking about them. As his friends pull him into another conversation, he steals another glance over at you. He tries to make out the words. Maybe his name will be on your lips. 

Yeah, Vernon was upset with you. But he was more upset with himself for being too beside himself to make his feelings known.

The vantage point from the kitchen island provided the perfect view of you and Vernon's handiwork. You and he had managed to transform the interior of his cozy brownstone into a Home Magazine photographer's daydream in just a few hours. It was only right that you stood back and admired it. The mini bar was full, finger food dishes over half eaten, and your friends milling about the house, all buzzing with excitement. You smiled, thoroughly satisfied. 

With all your scanning of the area, your eyes were bound to land on Vernon at some point. A special kind of heat rippled through you, from the soles of your feet to the top of your head. He looked amazing. The sleeves of his crisp white button-up were rolled to his elbows, and his hair was pushed back and messy – like he'd been running his hands through it all night. And he was talking so animatedly with his friends that you could feel your heart growing 3 sizes too big, just like the Grinch's had. Vernon was beautiful, inside and out. There was never a day where you didn't remind him that he was "pale as the moon with a personality bright as the sun."

His typical response? That you were corny and way too into figurative language. You just hummed in agreement. Vernon was right, of course, he's your best friend. He's supposed to be right about you. Vernon was forgetting one thing, though. Yes, you were corny and yes, you adored figurative language; how can one not? It's very poetic. But the one fact he was missing was that you were head over heels in love with him. And that was the most important piece of information.

As you broke your surveillance of Vernon to glance at your watch, you felt a body slide next to yours on the counter. Looking to your left, you're met with the shit-eating grin of Sophia, Vernon's little sister.

"Like what you see?"

You blanch. "Oh please, give me a break," you say, turning around to face the cabinets. Sophia does the same. The heat is back, this time concentrated in your face. You pressed the back of your hands to your face in concern. The younger woman hums and fetches you a glass of water. "Before you shoot me down for even talking about it," Sophia says slowly. You glare. "I just say give it a try. You never know; he, like, will definitely like you back." You down your water and lay your head on Sophia's shoulder. "You really think so," you ask sheepishly. "I'm positive. And hey, if he says anything bad, I'll beat his ass and kick him out of this house. Then you and I can live here together. How's that sound?" 

You laugh at her proposal. While you and Vernon had always been partners in crime, you wholeheartedly admit to being a double agent for Sophia. She'd always be like a little sister to you, no matter how not little she was anymore.

"Deal," you said confidently. Sophia giggled and hugged you quickly before trotting off to God knows where. 

A small sigh escaped your lips as you watched her walk away. "You should get off your feet," a voice murmured behind you. You turn around to see Vernon's face propped up on the counter, his eyebrows raised accusingly. 

You made your way around the island to stand next to him. "What? And not be able to strut around your gorgeous house in these killer boots? No way." You clicked your heels to emphasize your point, which made Vernon chuckle.

"You've been strutting around my gorgeous house all day, woman. Sit down." He looked at you with his big brown eyes full of so much care and admiration that you almost puked all over his Converse. You sighed and nodded your head. "Fine, I'll listen to the man of the house for once."

"But for the record, don't go getting too sappy on me, Hansol. Too many people will see through your cool guy persona." You jokingly narrowed your eyes and jabbed a finger at his chest before waltzing away with a plastic flute of champagne in your hand. Vernon watched the way the material of your dress hit the back of your thighs as you sashayed away.

Who cares about being cool if it's not with you?

Vernon was still watching you as you sat on the couch, fingers mindlessly tapping against the plastic in your hands. You were listening to your friend drone on about her loser ex. He could tell by the frequency of your head nods and the unruffled expression on your face that you had heard all of it before. 

Someone snapped at him. "Um, earth to Vernon? Hello?" Vernon turned to see Mingyu's deadpan expression. Vernon swallowed. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

Wonwoo playfully rolled his eyes. "If you hadn't been staring at a certain someone, you would know," he said teasingly. Vernon frowned at the man. "I wasn't staring. I was just…checking in." Vernon watched as his two friends looked at one another skeptically. "Right, right," Mingyu remarked, sipping his drink. Vernon listened to the rest of his friends' commentary on his situation before the loud voice of a newscaster caught his attention. Someone had turned on the TV. 

"Oi! The countdown's starting soon," Seungkwan called out from his perch on the back of the couch. Vernon made a mental note to kill the man if he messed up the leather. 

"You know what, man? You should totally kiss her to ring in the new year," Mingyu insisted, nudging Vernon's ribs. "This is your chance." The mere suggestion made Vernon's heart jump to his throat. Sure, he’d thought about pulling you in for a kiss tonight, but someone actually saying the words aloud? That was too real. His feet felt like they had been bolted to the floor, his tongue a rock in his mouth. Sensing his apparent uneasiness, Mingyu and Wonwoo smiled at each other maliciously and decided to do what any great friend would – toss him into the deep end. Wonwoo grabbed one arm, Mingyu the other, and together, the two men marched Vernon over to you. 

The noise in the space was increasing by the second. It made Vernon's heart beat faster. "You've got this, champ," Mingyu said, laughing over the clamor of party blowers and enthusiastic shouting. "Yeah, go get 'em, tiger," Wonwoo said with a glint of mischief in his bespectacled eyes. They left him with pats on his back that almost sent him flying. 

"Oh, hi guys," you said, puzzled. The two men sweetly waved back at you as they retreated. Your friend had easily clocked whatever bullshit Mingyu and Wonwoo were pulling and decided to take her leave. You stood to look your best friend in the eye. The two of you were close, fronts just an inch from touching. Vernon cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Hey," he breathed out after a moment. You smiled at him with those pearly whites of yours. Vernon could have fainted.

"Hey yourself, you look like you've seen a ghost," you said. With furrowed eyebrows, you pressed the back of your hand to Vernon's forehead. "Are you sure you're not sick, hon?"

Vernon leaned into your touch and sighed. "No, it's — it's nothing like that. Just a bit tired 's all." You nodded as you pulled your hand back. Vernon almost groaned at the lack of touch. God, this was going to drive him insane.

He was going to tell you. He had to. Because if he let you laugh and celebrate, or God forbid, kiss someone else, he would have to vault himself down his staircase and ruin everyone's night. Slowly, Vernon's lips began to form the words he had been dying to say forever. Your eyes widened in anticipation, like you could feel the weight of the words on the Unfortunately, the moment was interrupted by a sudden cacophony in his home. 

"10!"

You took a step back and cleared your throat. "Looks like everyone's gonna start swapping spit in a few seconds, huh," you whispered. It hadn't been hard to understand what he was thinking. You basically live in each other's minds; it's what happens when people are in love.

One of Vernon's hands had found the back of his neck, an easy tell of his nervousness. "Yeah, seems that way."

"9!"

You bite your lip. "So, you come here often?" Vernon laughs at your terrible pickup line. The knot in his stomach was gradually unraveling.

"8!"

"Oh, come here, you idiot." Vernon opened his arms to embrace you. Continuing with your teasing, you looked at him in faux surprise. "Who? Me?"

"7!"

Vernon rolled his eyes as you stepped into his space once more. Your hands snaked around his waist, and you leaned your forehead against his shoulder, taking in his cologne. He smelled like bergamot and cedarwood. "You really like that cologne I bought for your birthday, don't you?"

"6!"

Vernon smiled. "Yeah. It's my favorite."

"5!"

You pulled your head away from Vernon's chest to get a look at him. Stunning, as always. You hoped your eyes conveyed all the words you couldn't say. They say the heart speaks through the eyes. And Vernon was hearing you loud and clear. 

"4! 3! 2!"

Vernon placed his hands on your face, the touch achingly gentle. Your hands move to lay flat on his abdomen. You fiddled with the buttons of his shirt. Vernon's warm breath fanned over your face. It smelled like champagne. "Ready?" He whispered the word as if he was afraid you might break if he were too intense. You nodded. 

"...1! Happy New Year!"

And just like that, your lips were on his. Fireworks could be heard in the distance, and you couldn't help but think that's what the inside of your chest sounded like, too. Your hand gripped Vernon's shirt, surely wrinkling the fabric. Not that it mattered, though, because Vernon's lips were so soft as they chased after yours. You sighed into his mouth, allowing his tongue to explore yours. 

A sharp whistle rang through the room, followed shortly by the sound of applause. You and Vernon (just barely) pulled away from each other to see what the commotion was all about. The realization came quickly because everyone was cheering for the two of you. You buried your face in Vernon's chest and laughed as he wrapped his arm protectively around you and cussed out the ringleader, who had been quickly identified as Mingyu. 

Vernon pulled away to look down at you. His cheeks were flushed a bright red. "You alright," he asked softly. You beamed at him and kissed the tip of his nose. "So much more than alright."

For the rest of the night, you and Vernon were attached at the hip. Lighting sparklers, helping tipsy friends into their coats, cleaning up. Always side by side. And it didn't look any different than usual from the outside, but to both of you and everyone in the room, there was a clear distinction. 

Vernon ushered the last of your friends out of the door with a contented sigh. The chaos was finally over. He turned to look at you on his couch, your body seemingly melting into the cushions. You had kicked off your so-called killer boots and were staring at the ceiling. Vernon made his way over to the couch and plopped down next to you.

"You think it was a success," you asked, picking at your nails.

Vernon turned to face you. "The party?" 

"Obviously," you snorted. 

"Yeah, I think it went great. But I don't know if I'm the right person to ask."

"And why is that?"

"Well, it might not have been great," Vernon smiled. "It could've been shit, and I wouldn't have even noticed because I got exactly what I wanted." You hummed at his answer. Turning your head, you gazed at him seductively. "Oh really? What did you want so bad, Hansol?"

There you go again, saying his name like that. Vernon chewed on his bottom lip and thought carefully about his next move. Slowly, he walked his fingers across one exposed leg, then the other. You shivered. Vernon tapped on your leg opposite of him. Receiving the message, you threw it over his and slid onto his lap. 

"You, of course."

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, suddenly shy. 

Vernon tenderly lifted your chin to get a look at your face. There was something so pretty about you in the light of his Christmas tree and vintage table lamp. It made you look like you did in his mind–like you were glowing. Vernon mindlessly ran his hands up and down your sides as the two of you sat in the quiet afterglow of the evening.

You leaned forward to press your forehead against Vernon's. Your fingers made their way to his jawline. It was transfixing how the muscles tensed and relaxed at your touch. A lopsided smile was splayed across the young man's face. You canted your face towards him but stopped, suddenly hesitant. For what reason, you weren't sure. It was almost like you were kindergartners again, and you could be walked in and scolded at any minute. Subconsciously, you were looking for a reason to stop, to not be in love with your best friend. You couldn't find one.

So, you kissed him. It was languid like you had all the time in the world. And there was. There was no countdown to rush you, no crowd of onlookers to be wholly invested in your actions. 

You wrapped your arms around Vernon's neck as he deepened the kiss. He could feel a bead of spit dripping down his chin. He couldn't care less. Vernon's hands grasped the back of your thighs, and his fingers traced patterns in your skin. It made you squirm. The heat was gradually returning to your body. You needed to move, or else you'd probably explode. And you didn't want to leave another mess for Vernon to clean up.

Slowly, you began to rock back and forth in his lap. Vernon moaned into your mouth at the movement. It was kind of sweet when you thought about it. The both of you are too tired and lazy to get each other off efficiently, but neither cares enough to stop. It felt too good, anyway. 

After a few minutes of making out with your friend-turned-lover, you reluctantly detached your lips from his. Making your way to his neck, you peppered kisses behind his ear. You listened to him sigh. 

"Vernon, baby," you said breathlessly. Your hips stuttered to a stop. "I've really gotta go." With shaky legs, you stumbled off his lap, and you could've sworn you heard Vernon whine. Turning to put your shoes on, you felt a tug on the hem of your dress. 

"We're pretty good at this being in love thing, aren't we?" His voice came out a little quieter, a little more shaky than he'd meant for it to. You looked at him with his swollen lips and blown-out pupils. Who gave him the right to look like that? Or to ask that question?

Vernon stood. He wrapped his arms around your waist and placed his chin on your shoulder, his chest pressed to your back. "I'd like to think we always were," you responded with a smile. Vernon chuckled.

"Stay," he whispered. "Please." Vernon spun you around to face him. You don't think you'd ever seen your best friend look so desperate. Shaking your head, you smiled.

"Fine."

And with that confirmation, Vernon grabbed your hand and guided you upstairs.

Scanning his room before climbing into bed, Vernon smiled to himself. All of your things looked so right sitting next to his. Your clothes kicked in the same corner as his. Phones charging next to each other on the same dresser. Hell, even your toothbrush on his bathroom counter fit in. But the biggest thing was you. You lying under his duvet in his oversized t-shirt and sweats. 

"What are you so smiley about over there, loverboy," you asked, amused. Vernon slipped into bed next to you. "Couldn't help but think all of this felt natural," he said thoughtfully. You looked him over. His eyes were closed, and his arms were crossed behind his head. "For someone so scared to tell me he loved me, you're being super casual about this," you said, poking him in his ribs. You laughed as he yelped. "Well, I think you not tearing my heart out and rejecting me has a huge part to play in it, ma'am." You hummed in response. "Fair enough." 

There was a beat of comfortable silence. 

"You know, our friends practically say we're married already."

"I know. Can't really blame them, can we?" You laughed.

"No, we can't," you breathed. "Oh, if only they'd seen us arguing over what records to play tonight." You turned and grabbed his bicep. "Hoshi would never let us hear the end of it." Now, it was Vernon's turn to laugh.

There was another beat of silence.

"Sol?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you for starting my year off right." Vernon felt his chest tighten at your words. He pressed a kiss to the apple of your cheek. 

"It was a pleasure. Happy New Year, baby."

the art of dry humping is not lost on me!! this is one of those ideas that I woke up in a cold sweat from. like I just had to get it out of my brain. anyways, hope y'all enjoy

[its-avalon-08]

Hiiii ! I don’t know if you’re taking requests or not but I had an idea for a Lando x reader imagine where they’ve been dating for a little bit (it’s still very new) and then one of his ex’s comes back into his life (platonically) and he completely forgets about the reader until someone comments about his getting back with his ex and he realises how much he’s neglected reader. So he has to make it up her.

Angst to fluff please

see me again (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, comfort, neglect (GUYS WHY SO MUCH ANGST WHO HURT YOU)

Lando and Y/N’s relationship was still wrapped in the charm of newness. Six months in, everything felt fresh and exciting—every touch, every shared secret, and every stolen moment was etched with the novelty of love.

The mornings were Y/N’s favorite, especially when she woke up before him. She’d sit by the large windows of his Monaco apartment, sipping her coffee as the sunlight played across the harbor. Lando would shuffle out, hair tousled, mumbling something unintelligible about coffee before wrapping his arms around her from behind.

“You’re up early,” he murmured, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“I wanted to watch the sunrise,” she replied, smiling as he pressed a kiss to her neck.

“I’m way more interesting than a sunrise.”

“Debatable.”

He feigned offense, but the way his lips curved into a smile gave him away. These quiet moments were theirs—a world apart from the public eye and the roar of engines.

It was during one of these serene mornings when his phone buzzed on the counter, the name Sophia lighting up the screen.

“Who’s that?” Y/N asked casually, sipping her coffee.

Lando glanced at his phone and grinned. “Oh, Sophia. My ex. She’s back in Monaco.”

Y/N’s stomach tightened, but she kept her expression neutral. “Oh, that’s nice. Are you two still in touch?”

“Not really. We parted on good terms, though. She just wanted to catch up.”

Catch up. The phrase hung in the air like an unspoken question.

“That’s... nice,” Y/N replied, her tone light but forced.

“It’ll be fine,” Lando reassured her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We’re just friends now.”

At first, Y/N convinced herself it wasn’t a big deal. Lando was an open book, and he’d never given her a reason to doubt him. But over the next few weeks, Sophia’s presence loomed larger in their lives than Y/N had anticipated.

“Hey, love, can we raincheck tonight? Sophia wants to grab dinner, and I haven’t seen her in forever,” Lando said one evening, his tone casual, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Y/N’s stomach sank. “Yeah, sure. No problem,” she replied, masking her disappointment.

But it didn’t stop there. Plans were canceled or cut short. Lando would come home later and later, distracted and tired. The easy laughter they used to share was replaced with curt conversations, and Y/N felt like an afterthought in his life.

The final straw came when she arrived at the paddock one weekend, hoping to surprise him, only to find him deep in conversation with Sophia by his car. They looked so comfortable together, laughing and reminiscing, that Y/N felt like an outsider looking in.

“Y/N!” Lando called when he spotted her. “Come meet Sophia.”

She forced a polite smile, shaking Sophia’s hand. The woman was beautiful and warm, everything Y/N wasn’t sure she could compete with.

“It’s so nice to meet you. Lando talks about you all the time,” Sophia said, her smile genuine.

“Likewise,” Y/N replied, her voice tight.

----

The invitation had been on their fridge for weeks: a prestigious event honoring young researchers. Y/N had worked tirelessly on a groundbreaking discovery, and the award was a testament to her dedication. Lando had promised to be there.

That night, Y/N stood in front of her mirror, adjusting her dress nervously. She had picked a navy-blue gown that Lando had once said brought out her eyes. She sent him a quick text as she slipped on her heels.

Y/N: Heading out now. Can’t wait to see you there.

But as she arrived at the venue and scanned the crowd, he was nowhere to be found. She sat at the table reserved for her friends and family, her phone buzzing in her clutch.

Lando: Sophia’s car broke down, and I had to help her out. I’ll come as soon as I can.

The evening passed in a blur. Y/N walked on stage to accept her award, smiling for the cameras, but the empty seat next to her screamed louder than anything else.

When she got home, her trophy in hand, Lando was already asleep on the couch.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled when she woke him up. “Sophia was stranded, and I couldn’t leave her.”

Y/N just nodded, swallowing her words. What was the point of saying them if he wasn’t listening?

---

Their Friday date nights had been a sacred tradition from the very beginning. It was their way of carving out time amidst their busy schedules. Y/N had planned something special—dinner at the restaurant where they had their first date, followed by dessert at their favorite ice cream shop.

She waited at the table, checking her phone every few minutes.

Y/N: Are you on your way?

No reply.

Thirty minutes turned into an hour, and the once-cozy restaurant felt suffocating. Y/N paid for her untouched meal and walked out, her heels clicking against the pavement as she headed home.

When she entered the apartment, Lando was sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone.

“Hey,” he said casually. “Sorry, I lost track of time. Sophia and I were talking, and—”

“You forgot,” Y/N interrupted, her voice sharper than she intended.

“I said I’m sorry,” Lando replied, frowning. “You could’ve called.”

“I shouldn’t have to,” she shot back, her frustration boiling over. “I planned this night for us, Lando. Not for me to sit alone while you spend the evening with her.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t mean to,” Y/N repeated bitterly. “That’s the problem.”

---

Y/N had been looking forward to their weekend getaway for weeks. It wasn’t anything extravagant—just a quiet trip to the countryside, away from the noise of Monaco and the demands of Lando’s career.

She packed their bags and waited by the door, excitement bubbling in her chest. But an hour before they were supposed to leave, Lando called.

“I can’t make it, love,” he said apologetically. “Sophia’s moving, and she needs help with her furniture. Raincheck?”

Raincheck. The word felt like a slap.

“Sure,” Y/N replied, her voice flat.

The weekend passed in solitude, and the bags she had packed remained untouched by the door.

Each instance chipped away at Y/N’s patience and self-worth. By the time she confided in Alexandra and Charles, she wasn’t just frustrated—she was heartbroken.

The facade cracked later that week when Y/N confided in Alexandra and Charles during a quiet dinner at their place.

“I don’t even know who I’m dating anymore,” she admitted, tears streaming down her face.

Alexandra wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. “Y/N, you need to tell him how you feel. He can’t fix what he doesn’t know.”

Y/N shook her head. “He doesn’t even see it, Alex. I feel invisible. Like I’m just... here while he’s off with her. And the worst part? I don’t even think he realizes what he’s doing.”

Charles, who had been silent, finally spoke. “That’s not fair to you. You deserve better.”

“I don’t even know if he loves me anymore,” Y/N whispered, her voice breaking.

Alexandra hugged her tightly, while Charles looked at her with quiet determination. “Then he needs to figure it out,” he said firmly. “But not at the cost of your happiness.”

Y/N nodded, her heart heavy as she realized she couldn’t keep going like this. Something had to change—because the person she had fallen in love with felt further away than ever.

time skip--

Chapter 2: Cracks Become Chasms

Lando stood near the McLaren motorhome, signing autographs and laughing with fans. It was a typical morning at the paddock, but the air felt heavier today. The whispers had started earlier, and by the time a journalist approached him for a quick interview, the weight of the rumors was impossible to ignore.

“So, Lando,” the journalist began with a smirk, “there’s been a lot of buzz about you and Sophia lately. Fans are wondering—is there something going on? A reconciliation perhaps?”

The question hit him like a brick.

“Uh, no,” he stammered, forcing a chuckle. “We’re just friends.”

The journalist raised an eyebrow. “It’s just, we haven’t seen much of Y/N lately, and you and Sophia seem to be spending a lot of time together. People are starting to talk.”

Lando felt the color drain from his face. “Y/N and I are fine,” he said quickly, brushing off the comment. But doubt began to creep in.

As he walked back toward the garage, he spotted Alexandra striding toward him, her expression thunderous. Her heels clicked sharply against the pavement, each step radiating fury.

“Alex, hey—”

“Don’t Alex me,” she snapped, her voice louder than he’d ever heard. “What the hell is wrong with you, Lando?”

“Wait, what?” Lando blinked, taken aback.

“You’ve been an absolute idiot, that’s what!” Alexandra’s voice rose, catching the attention of several passersby. “Do you even realize what you’ve done to Y/N? She’s been breaking her heart over you, and you’re too busy playing hero for Sophia to notice!”

“Alexandra—”

“No!” she interrupted, pointing a finger at his chest. “Do you know where Y/N was last night? Crying her eyes out because she doesn’t know if the person she fell in love with even exists anymore!”

Lando stepped back, his mouth opening and closing, but no words came out.

“You’ve been canceling on her, forgetting her, neglecting her! And for what? To be Sophia’s knight in shining armor? She’s your past, Lando. Y/N is your present! Or is she not anymore?”

“Alexandra, enough,” Charles murmured, stepping in. He gently pulled her back, his hands on her shoulders as he whispered something in French, his voice soft and soothing.

“Don’t defend him,” she snapped at Charles, though her tone softened slightly at his touch.

“I’m not defending him,” Charles replied, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to Alexandra’s rage. “But you’re scaring him, and I’d rather he listens than shuts down.”

Alexandra huffed but stepped back, crossing her arms as her eyes burned holes into Lando. “If you care about her at all, Lando, you’d better fix this. Because if you don’t, you’re going to lose the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

The words echoed in Lando’s ears as he retreated to the privacy of his driver’s room. He sat on the edge of the couch, his head in his hands.

Was it really that bad?

He grabbed his phone and opened social media, his heart sinking as he scrolled through countless comments.

@fan1: “Is Lando back with Sophia? Poor Y/N hasn’t been seen in ages.” @fan2: “Sophia again? Guess Y/N deserved better anyway.” @fan3: “Y/N’s been posting about her work, and Lando hasn’t even acknowledged her award. But sure, let’s talk about Sophia’s car breaking down.” @fan4: “Why does it feel like Y/N is just an afterthought to him now? I miss when they seemed so happy.”

His breath caught as he stumbled upon a photo of Y/N at her award show, standing on stage with her trophy. Her smile was radiant, but something about her eyes looked off—distant, hollow.

Lando scrolled further, finding more pictures of her. There was one she’d posted of their planned getaway, the caption reading, “Maybe next time.” It had been liked thousands of times, but the comments told a different story.

@fan5: “It’s sad seeing her try so hard when Lando doesn’t even show up.” @fan6: “He doesn’t deserve her if this is how he treats her.” @fan7: “Sophia’s great, but Y/N is the one who stood by him. What is he doing?”

Each comment was a stab to his chest, and Lando realized with horror that everyone had noticed his neglect—everyone but him.

He leaned back, staring at the ceiling as guilt clawed at him. How had he been so blind? Y/N had been giving him everything, and he had taken it all for granted. Alexandra’s words echoed in his mind: She’s been breaking her heart over you.

Lando’s chest tightened as his thumb hovered over Y/N’s contact. He didn’t even know what to say. Would an apology even be enough?

time skip --

Chapter 3: Silent Realizations

The apartment was eerily quiet when Lando stepped through the door. He set his keys down carefully, as though afraid any sound might shatter the fragile air of tension. He glanced at the clock—it was late, far later than he’d intended to come home.

The smell of food lingered faintly in the air, but the dishes were already washed and stacked neatly. A plate of leftovers sat covered on the counter, untouched. He frowned, guilt gnawing at him. She hadn’t waited for him for dinner.

The living room lights were dimmed, and his heart clenched when he saw Y/N curled up on the couch, a blanket pulled halfway over her. She wasn’t asleep—her eyes were on the TV, but the blank look on her face told him she wasn’t really watching.

“Y/N,” he called softly, his voice breaking the stillness.

She glanced at him briefly, her expression unreadable, before returning her gaze to the screen.

“Hey,” he tried again, stepping closer.

“Hey,” she replied, her tone distant, polite.

It broke him.

Lando stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do, before his feet carried him to her. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to explain or defend himself. Instead, he sank onto the couch beside her and wrapped his arms around her tightly, pulling her into his chest.

Y/N froze at first, her body stiff against his. She didn’t hug him back, didn’t move, didn’t even speak.

“Please,” Lando whispered into her hair, his voice cracking. He held her tighter, as if letting go would mean losing her forever.

After a moment, something in her broke. Her arms wrapped around him, clutching him like he was the last lifeline in a storm. Her shoulders shook as the first sob escaped her lips, and then the dam burst.

She cried into his chest, her tears soaking through his shirt. Her pain poured out in waves, raw and unfiltered, and Lando held her like his life depended on it.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice barely audible over her sobs. “God, Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

Her crying didn’t falter, but he kept going, the words spilling out of him in a desperate rush.

“I’ve been the worst boyfriend. I’ve neglected you, hurt you, made you feel like you don’t matter, and it’s all my fault. You’ve given me everything, Y/N, and I... I’ve been too blind to see it.”

She pulled back slightly, her tear-streaked face looking up at him, her eyes filled with anguish.

“You don’t even see me anymore, Lando. I'm invisible to you,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“I see you now,” he said, his voice fierce, his hands cupping her face. “I see you, Y/N. And I hate myself for making you feel invisible, for making you question your worth, for making you cry when all you’ve ever done is love me.”

He rested his forehead against hers, his own tears slipping free. “You’re everything to me, Y/N. You’re the reason I smile, the reason I feel grounded, the reason I believe I can be better. And I’ve taken you for granted. I’ve been so caught up in my own world that I forgot how much I need you in it.”

Her lip quivered, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I miss you,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I miss us.”

“We’ll get us back,” Lando vowed, his hands trembling as they brushed her tears away. “I swear to you, Y/N. No more excuses, no more distractions. I’m here. Fully, completely, here. And I’ll spend every day proving it to you, if you’ll let me.”

Her arms tightened around him again, her sobs subsiding into quiet hiccups. For the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to believe him.

“I just don’t want to lose you ever again,” she murmured, her voice small.

“You won’t,” he promised, his lips brushing her forehead. “I’ll never let that happen. I love you, Y/N. I love you so much.”

They stayed like that for a long time, tangled in each other’s arms, the silence now filled with unspoken promises and fragile hope. It wouldn’t be easy, but Lando was determined to make things right—starting now.

--

The apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside. It had been weeks since everything had fallen apart, but in the aftermath, Lando had rebuilt their relationship brick by brick. Every day, he showed up—not just physically, but emotionally. Dinner dates, goodnight kisses, endless inside jokes—it was perfect. Y/N felt like they’d found their way back to each other, stronger than ever.

But perfection could still hide lingering fears.

Lando shot up in bed, his breathing ragged, sweat dampening his shirt. The room was dark, the faint glow of the moon casting shadows across the walls. His chest heaved as the images of his dream haunted him—Y/N’s tear-streaked face, her cold tone, and the final words that echoed in his mind like a death knell:

“I can’t do this anymore, Lando. I’m done.”

His heart twisted painfully, and he scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to shake the phantom ache. Quietly, so as not to wake her, he slipped out of bed and padded to the balcony.

The cool night air hit his skin as he stepped outside, leaning heavily on the railing. His chest was tight, his throat dry. Despite everything they’d overcome, the fear of losing her still clawed at him.

“Lan?”

Her voice was soft and sleepy, but it startled him. He turned to see Y/N standing in the doorway, her hair messy from sleep and his oversized hoodie draped over her frame.

“Hey,” he whispered, quickly wiping at his face.

“Why are you out here?” she asked, stepping closer. Her brows furrowed as she noticed the redness in his eyes. “Have you been crying?”

“No, I’m fine,” he lied, his voice shaky and timid.

“Lando,” she said firmly, crossing the distance between them. She placed a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at her. “Talk to me. baby”

He let out a shuddering breath, his resolve crumbling under her touch. “I had a nightmare,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “You left me.”

Her face softened instantly. “Oh, Lando…”

“It felt so real,” he continued, his voice breaking. “You said you couldn’t do it anymore. That I’d hurt you too much, and you were done. I tried to stop you, but you were already gone. And when I woke up, I—” His voice cracked, and he covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking as silent sobs overtook him.

Y/N’s heart shattered at the sight. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. “I’m here,” she murmured, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest. “I’m right here, Lando.”

“I was so awful to you,” he choked out, his arms tightening around her. “I keep thinking about everything I did—everything I didn’t do—and I hate myself for it. What if… what if one day you realize you deserve better and leave?”

She pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, her hands cupping his face. “Lando Norris, listen to me,” she said, her tone firm but filled with love. “I’m not going anywhere. Yes, you hurt me. Yes, it was hard. But you’ve shown me every single day since then how much you care, how much I mean to you. You fought for us, and I know you’ll keep fighting.”

“I just… I can’t fucking lose you,” he whispered, his voice raw.

“You won’t,” she promised, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks to wipe away his tears. “I’m here because i love you. Not the perfect version of you, not the driver everyone sees, but you. The one who makes the dumb jokes, who holds me when I cry, who tries so hard to make up for his mistakes. That’s the Lando I love. And I’m not leaving him.”

Her words washed over him, soothing the storm inside. He buried his face in her shoulder, clutching her as though she might disappear if he let go.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured.

“You do,” she insisted, pulling back to press a kiss to his forehead. “You’re not perfect, Lando. Neither am I. But we’re perfect together, and that’s all that matters.”

He nodded against her shoulder, the tightness in his chest finally easing. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” she replied, holding him close.

They stood there for a while, wrapped in each other’s warmth under the night sky. Eventually, Y/N tugged him back inside, settling them both on the bed. She kept her arms around him, her fingers running soothingly through his hair until his breathing evened out and sleep finally claimed him.

And as he drifted off, Lando realized that as long as he had her, the nightmares didn’t stand a chance. Being with the woman he loved mever felt more right.