#i am fully going to be back on doing replies soon i promise

[cheftsunoda]

novacane — ln4

lando norris x !model reader

smau + blurbs

in which lando and yn, worn thin by fame, pressure, and the weight of always being watched, find comfort in all the wrong places — drowning their loneliness in drugs, sex, and each other's broken promises.

fc : cindy kimberly

(a/n) : no one answered if they wanted this or not so now im forcing it on everyone. sorry if you hate it:( this is based off the song “novacane” by frank ocean so if you don’t know it— definitely recommend listening it it to understand.

❗obviously warnings of drug use, relationship toxicity, angst, minor smut and eating disorder ❗

and i gave you angels a happy ending - ywwww

—

yn_ln

liked by lando, alexandrasaintmleux, carlossainz55 & 5,515,007 others.

yn_ln : don’t let the high go to waste

—

view 225,090 other comments.

username000 : oh great she’s with lando AGAIN.

↳ username00 : what’s the problem with her?? i thought they were together

↳ username000 : no they aren’t confirmed together. THANK GOD. she is just a horrible influence for him to be around.

↳ username1 : you do realize lando is a fully grown adult and the people he chooses to be around and what he does is completely on him, right?

↳ username000 : well yeah but i do not think being around her helps his mindset any. he’s changed.

↳ username1 : maybe has had changed from the pressure and stress. maybe he is just tired. leave them both alone.

alexandrasaintmleux : so pretty angel. hope to see your face again soon!

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : mwah mwah

carlossainz55 : ….no comment 😳

liked by yourusername and lando

bellahadid : mother 🧎‍♀️

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : my poooooookie

danielricciardo : he better have that hickey covered on media day🤣

liked by yourusername and lando

↳ username7 : nooooo so it is lando again.

charles_leclerc : mon dieu.

liked by yourusername and lando

alex_albon : i am respectfully not looking. (i looked)

liked by yourusername and lando

↳ lilymhe : its okay. i did too.

username11 : lando is ruining his reputation for this woman. honestly, i kind of understand.

lando : always high on you.

liked by yourusername

—

flashback

You still remember the way the air felt that night — thick with smoke, perfume, and the kind of heat that clung to your skin long after you’d left the club. It had been Fashion Week in Milan, and you were already four shows deep into a sleepless spiral of afterparties, interviews, and eyes that didn’t see you so much as consume you. You were tired. Exhausted in the kind of way no sleep could fix. And then there he was. Lando Norris — crooked smile, familiar face, eyes like they knew you. Not knew your name. Knew you. And you hated how much that made you pause. You met him at some rooftop club that blurred together with all the rest — flashing lights, empty champagne flutes, and hands that touched too long without meaning anything. He wasn’t supposed to be there, not really. Off-season or something like that. But maybe he needed the distraction just as badly as you did.

He bought you a drink. You made a sarcastic comment about hating tequila and drank it anyway. You talked. You laughed. And then somewhere between his fourth glass and your second lie about being fine, things stopped being surface level. You caught him staring at you like he was trying to read between the cracks. So you let him see them. Or maybe you didn’t have the strength to hide them anymore.

“I don’t think I’m built for all this,” you admitted in a half whisper, legs crossed tightly in the corner of a velvet booth, mascara smudged like war paint.

He didn’t say anything. Just took a slow sip of his drink and replied, “Yeah. Me neither.”

It wasn’t flirtation after that. It was something heavier. Messier. The kind of pull that only two broken people feel when they recognize themselves in someone else’s ruin. Back at your hotel room, things unfolded like instinct. You were both too numb and too desperate to question it. The clothes came off easy. The masks came off harder.

His lips trailed your collarbone. Your hands tangled in his curls. The pressure in your stomach growing with every thrust and then after— the air changed. You were sitting on the bed, his hoodie slipping off your shoulder, and you reached for the little orange bottle you never traveled without. He watched you pop the pill with a swig of warm, flat water from the bedside table.

You caught his stare and raised an eyebrow. “Want one?”

He hesitated. Just long enough for you to know he was still trying to be the good guy, even now. Then he took it from your hand and held your gaze like a dare. You watched him swallow it dry. He turned and leaned back into you— closing the gap between the two of you again. You sat until he began to feel that warm and fuzzy feeling you had grown accustomed to but was still brand new for him.

“What even was that?” he asked, voice low and frayed at the edges. You smiled, tired and crooked. The kind of smile that says this is survival, not seduction.

“Don’t let the high go to waste,” you murmured, echoing the line like a mantra you wished wasn’t true.

He didn’t ask again. You laid back. He followed. That night wasn’t about falling in love. It wasn’t even about comfort. It was about not feeling like shit for five fucking minutes. It was about losing yourselves in each other’s broken parts and calling it relief. It was about two people too hollow to hold anything real — and still clinging to each other like it might fix something anyway. You didn’t know it then, but that would be the first of many nights like that. And the last time anything between you felt accidental.

—

present day…

f1gossipgirls

2,517,001 likes.

f1gossipgirls : F1’s wild child & fashion’s favorite disaster leaving Miami’s dirtiest rooftop club at 4:27AM. Looks like Lando Norris and YN, international model, are taking their rumored situationship coast to coast. The pair were seen stumbling out of RITUAL, the kind of place where the floors are sticky and the bathrooms are sacred. Sources claim Lando looked “glassy-eyed but smiling,” while YN was seen reapplying her lipstick in the back of a black SUV. Oh, and did we mention her heels were in his hand? Eyewitnesses say the duo “couldn’t keep their hands off each other,” and at least one club staffer swears they both entered the same VIP room together. But who needs sleep when your only job is being young, rich, and reckless? We’re not saying they’re the new Bonnie and Clyde, but we are saying someone’s PR team is sweating.

—

view 175,002 other comments.

username00 : the fact that he is doing this when he will be racing in 36 hours is…interesting to say the least.

username0 : someone check on zak brown. mans is probably pacing.

username1 : why are we romanticizing this behavior? they both clearly have a lot of problems that need fixed.

username5 : he is supposed to be a professional athlete. not snorting something suspicious in a club at 3 am. LANDO WAKE TF UP.

username7 : never ever expected this phase in lando’s career but here we are.

username10 : y’all will continue to blame her like he isn’t grown and can’t make his own decisions. like bruh

—

You and Lando always fell into some sort of cycle. Not love. Not quite addiction either — though it came close. Something in between. Something quieter but heavier. A pattern with soft edges and sharp consequences. It started the way it always did — too loud, too fast, too much.

Miami’s air was humid with desperation that weekend — people screaming your name, cameras flashing like seizures, bodies grinding in tempo with the bass. He met your eyes from across the club and that was all it took. You didn’t even smile. Just nodded once, like yeah. it’s time again.You’d both lost something before you even walked in. The music was pounding, the drinks were bottomless, the lines were generous — and by the time he had his hand on the small of your back, you couldn’t tell if your heart was racing from the substance or from him. He leaned down to murmur something into your ear — something stupid and sweet, something that made you laugh even though nothing about the night was funny. And then you pulled out the little bag. Same one you always had. He watched. He never stopped you, not really.

“You sure?” he asked like a formality.

You nodded like muscle memory. He followed. In the bathroom of some overpriced rooftop bar, you did it off the back of your hand while he stood behind you like a shadow, warm and steady and crumbling all at once. His knuckles brushed yours when he took his turn, eyes blown wide and tired even in the mirror’s hazy glow. And somehow, not long after, you ended up tangled together in your hotel bed — hot skin, whispered curses, need disguised as recklessness. It wasn’t sweet. It never was. It was desperate. The kind of touch that only feels good because it silences the scream in your head for a moment. The kind that makes you feel something when you’re numb everywhere else.

But later — after — when your heartbeat finally slowed and your thoughts started catching up, you climbed off the bed and walked to the bathroom without saying a word. You didn’t bother turning on the light. Just stepped under the cold stream of the shower and let yourself cry. Quiet at first. Then harder. Your mascara ran down the drain like ink in water. Your shoulders shook like you were trying to hold your bones together. You didn’t expect him to follow. But he did. Lando opened the door without knocking. Stepped into the shower fully clothed. Didn’t say anything — didn’t need to. He just wrapped his arms around you from behind and held you while the water soaked through his shirt and you sobbed into his chest like a child.

He didn’t tell you to stop. He didn’t ask what was wrong. He knew. He was wrong too. You stood like that for a long time. Just water. Skin. Silence. And the ache of being seen by someone who’s just as hollow.

The morning after always hurt worse. The sunlight hit too hard. The hangover hit harder. And then the notifications. Tabloids. Photos. Headlines about the two of you looking “high and handsy” at 4:27 AM. His team texted. Yours called. And all you could do was sit at the edge of the bed in one of his T-shirts and stare at the phone while Lando paced and swore under his breath. It always happened like this. The comedown. The regret. The beginning of the withdrawal. He left around 10AM, hoodie pulled low, sunglasses on, mumbling something about sorting it with his PR team. You didn’t ask him to stay. You never did.

Because you knew how it went. He’d vanish. Ignore your texts. You’d see him on someone else’s story a few days later. Like none of it mattered. But he always came back. Usually around 2AM. Usually with a knock and no words. Usually when your mascara was already running and your hands were already shaking. It wasn’t love. It was a cycle. And God help you, but part of you needed it.

—

But he tries to stop. For real, this time. After the Miami fallout, after his PR team threatens to pull endorsement deals and Zak himself tells him to “get your shit together or get out” — Lando goes quiet. You don’t hear from him for days. No 2AM texts. No half assed apologies. No hotel room knocks. Not even a story view. Silence.

You assume he’s doing what they all do eventually — detaching. Saving himself. Finding some version of clean that doesn’t include you. You’re used to it. You pretend not to check your phone anyway.

Meanwhile, he’s trying. He really is. He wakes up early. Doesn’t drink. Doesn’t go out. He trains. Eats clean. Answers his calls. He ignores the aching pull in his chest when he sees your name light up his phone — unread messages stacked like shame. But it doesn’t help. None of it helps. Because when the world is quiet — when the race ends and the cameras go dark — he’s left alone with himself. And he can’t stand himself.

He thinks about the way your laugh sounds muffled against his chest. The way your eyeliner always smudges when you cry in the shower. The way you looked at him that night, like you were waiting for him to tell you it was okay to fall apart. And he wants it back. Not because it’s good. Not because it’s healthy. Because it’s something.

The truth is — the high didn’t just numb the pain. It muted the voice in his head that told him he wasn’t enough. That he was wasting his life. That none of it — the podiums, the parties, the press tours — felt real anymore. Being numb was awful. But being awake? That’s unbearable.

He sits in his hotel room one night, a few cities away, staring at the white walls, the untouched food, the silence thick enough to suffocate. He’s alone. And it hits him like it always does — slow at first, then all at once. The ache. The craving. The need to not feel anything. He grabs the bottle. He doesn’t even think. Washes one pill down with cold champagne. Calls your number. You answer on the first ring, like you knew this moment would come. Like you were waiting for it. No words. Just breathing.

And when he shows up at your door an hour later, eyes heavy, hands shaking, hoodie clinging to his skin like regret — you don’t ask what changed his mind. Because nothing did. The truth is, he never wanted to stop. He just wanted to believe he could. Because numbness is easier. And you… you numb the pain. I guess you’re novacane.

—

f1gossipgirls

2,709,112 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Well— it seems Lando Norris and YN LN are back at it again after weeks of distance. The two were seen coming and going from each other’s apartments more than 3 times this week.

—

It started slowly. Like most things do. First, it was just a headline. Some blurry pap photo of you walking out of a café in Milan, cropped in all the wrong ways. The caption read—

“Is YN Letting Herself Go?”

And that was all it took. It wasn’t true. You were exhausted, not careless. Bloated from the long flight, hungover from bad decisions and worse wine, caught mid-step with your shirt rumpled and sunglasses sliding down your nose. You hadn’t even known the cameras were there. But they were always there.

Then came the panel show segment. Some middle-aged man with a smug smile and zero credentials saying, “She’s still stunning, obviously, but you can tell the partying’s catching up to her.”

And it spiraled. Your agent texted you later that night — “No more pasta. Milan is watching.”

That’s when you stopped eating. At first it was a conscious decision. Strategic. If they wanted skinny, you’d give them starved. If they wanted hollow cheekbones and razorblade hip bones, you’d serve it on a silver fucking platter. You skipped meals and smiled through shoots. Faked fullness and learned which lies photographers never questioned. But it wasn’t long before you stopped choosing. The hunger became control. And then the control became a high. One you didn’t need to snort or swallow. And Lando noticed. He always did.

It hit him too, differently. Sharper. Publicly.

He couldn’t win a race without the press tearing him apart. Couldn’t crash out without being called immature. Couldn’t smile in an interview without being accused of not taking the sport seriously — and couldn’t look serious without them calling him cold.

“You’re not focused,” they’d said. “You’re wasting your seat.”

Every race weekend became a war. With his car. With the media. With himself.

And in between the races? Endless hotel rooms. Fake friends. Paparazzi flashes that made him feel like prey. Fans who loved the version of him that didn’t exist anymore. Who worshipped the myth and ignored the man.

He started sleeping in his hoodie with the hood pulled tight, even indoors. Started rubbing the back of his neck until it was red and raw. Couldn’t eat before practice. Couldn’t sleep after qualifying. Couldn’t breathe when it all got too loud.

You found each other in that silence.

It was after some gala you were both dragged to. You were wearing a backless dress that made your vision go blurry when you stood too long. He was in a tux he hadn’t wanted to wear, tie loosened, jaw clenched. You ended up in your hotel room again. Of course you did. But this time, there was no rush. No drugs. No sex. Just… collapse. You sat on the edge of the bed, toes pressing into the carpet, trying not to cry. Your stomach was eating itself, but you couldn’t remember the last time food didn’t feel like failure. He stood by the window, staring out like he was somewhere else entirely. Finally, you spoke.

“They said I looked fat in that dress,” you whispered.

He turned, slowly. Eyes dim. Like he’d been waiting for your voice to break.

“They say I don’t deserve my seat,” he answered.

You looked up at him, tears lining your lashes, voice small.

“I feel like I’m disappearing.”

And he just nodded.

“Same.”

That’s when he walked over. Sat behind you. Wrapped his arms around your waist — too gently. Like he was afraid you’d break. You leaned back into him, your spine pressing against his chest, and for a moment, you both just breathed. No masks. No captions. No noise.

You felt his lips ghost over your shoulder as he whispered, “They only want us when we’re shining. Not when we’re bleeding.”

And you replied, voice hollow but sure—

“Then let them choke.”

You stayed like that for hours. No high. No distractions. Just the quiet devastation of two people being honest. You held his hand like a lifeline. He kissed your temple like a prayer. That night, you didn’t sleep with each other. You just slept. And for the first time in weeks, that was enough.

—

f1gossipgirls

2,101,001 likes.

f1gossipgirls : YN LN in the paddock this weekend — and all eyes were on her. Rumors continue to swirl about her relationship with McLaren driver Lando Norris, and her surprise appearance in the garage only added fuel to the fire. According to insiders, YN was nothing short of lovely — chatting with fans, posing for photos, and offering a few smiles that made it hard not to root for her. As for Lando? Let’s just say the chemistry between the two didn’t go unnoticed.

—

The nights are quieter now. Not silent — you both still wake up sweating, heart racing, hands reaching for something that isn’t there anymore — but quieter. Softer. You’re trying. So is he.

After the last fallout, the withdrawal that left you shaking and sobbing in different cities, you made a pact — no pills, no blow, no hotel room disasters. Just water. Sleep. Presence. Even if presence meant staring blankly at a wall together in shared misery, at least you were there. You still have the urge sometimes. The craving. The itch in your skin when everything gets too loud, too fast. But you text him instead of reaching for a bottle. And he answers. Always.

He’s been better. Not perfect. Not by a long shot. But better. He’s eating again. Sleeping more. Actually showing up to meetings. The anger in his voice has dulled — not gone, just folded into something quieter, sadder, but realer.

When he texts you that week —

Come to the race. I need you here.

You almost cry. Because he never used to ask.

You fly in Friday, lowkey and quiet. No paparazzi. No chaos. He picks you up in a hoodie and worn out trainers, the circles under his eyes more honest than any headline.

He doesn’t say much in the car. Just rests his hand on your thigh at a red light and squeezes, like he’s checking to see if you’re real.

You’re staying with him that weekend. The bed is cold. No sex. Just tangled limbs and half whispered memories of nights you barely remember. You fall asleep to the sound of his breathing and wonder when that started being enough.

Race day comes fast. The paddock is buzzing — too bright, too loud. But he wants you there, so you come. You slip on the pass he gave you, the oversized McLaren jacket, your sunglasses. You keep your head down.

He finds you before the driver’s parade. You’re by the back of the garage, sipping water, watching the chaos unfold.

“You good?” he asks, voice low and warm.

You nod. “Are you?”

He shrugs. “Getting there.”

And then, “I’m glad you came.”

And then, “I don’t know if I would’ve made it through this week if you didn’t.”

You don’t say anything. Just slide your fingers between his and squeeze. A photographer snaps a shot you’ll both pretend not to notice.

During the race, you watch from the garage. Nails biting into your palm, eyes on every sector, every lap. You cheer when he overtakes. Your heart climbs into your throat when he locks up slightly at Turn 10. The crew gives you a nod when he comes in for a clean stop. You feel everything. And for once, you let yourself. When he crosses the line — P4 — it’s not a podium, but it’s a finish. A damn good one. You exhale like you’ve been holding your breath for years.

He finds you after media. Helmet hair, race suit half unzipped, skin flushed from adrenaline and exhaustion. And when he sees you — really sees you — his face cracks open in a way the cameras never catch. No jokes. No press smiles. Just rawness. He pulls you into a hug so tight your ribs ache.

And into your hair, he whispers,

“We did it.”

You nod against his chest, eyes stinging.

“Yeah. We did.”

—

It had been weeks since the race. Weeks since you and Lando swore you’d keep going — clean, sober, together. Weeks of morning check-ins and long, quiet nights. Weeks of avoiding temptation like it lived under your skin.

And it was working. Sort of.

You were tired, but functional. Lando was focused, if a little hollow. You were making it through each day with aching effort and brittle hope. You had even started eating small things again — a banana here, some soup there. Just enough to keep the dizziness at bay. Just enough to convince your manager you were “getting better.”

But the truth was… you weren’t.

The modeling world doesn’t care about “recovery.” It cares about bones and collarbones. It cares about angles and sample sizes. And you were trying — but your body was done trying for you. You were mid-way through a shoot in Paris when everything went sideways.

You didn’t feel the moment coming. One minute you were standing in front of the lights, makeup perfect, spine held straight by willpower and spite. The next, your vision was tunneling and the floor was rushing toward you. You hit the concrete hard.

Cameras flashed. Stylists screamed. Someone dropped their iced coffee and gasped like that was the real tragedy. The medics came. The studio was cleared. Your phone was unlocked by someone who barely knew your last name. They called Lando.

He got the call just after FP2. His race suit was still clinging to him, hair damp, body sore — but none of that registered when he saw your name flash across his screen. It wasn’t your voice. It was someone from the agency.

Words like “collapsed,” “dehydrated,” “not responsive.”

He didn’t hear the rest. He stumbled back into the McLaren motorhome like he’d been hit in the chest. Pushed past press officers. Ignored his engineer. Locked himself in the bathroom and stared at his reflection like it might offer a reason not to fall apart.

You passed out. You weren't eating. He should’ve seen it coming. He wanted to get on the next plane to Paris. But the race was in less than 48 hours. And they wouldn’t let him leave. So instead, he relapsed.

It was slow, stupid. A numbing kind of panic that led to desperate movement. He found the old bottle buried deep in his travel bag. He stared at it for almost an hour. He texted you. No answer. Called again. Straight to voicemail. And the fear twisted into something uglier than grief — helplessness. He cracked the seal. Took two.

When your eyes fluttered open hours later in a sterile white hospital room, the first thing you saw was the IV. The second was your manager pacing outside the door. The third was Lando’s name — 10 missed calls. You could barely lift your head, but you reached for your phone anyway.

And when you saw his last message, your heart cracked open.

If you die, I’ll go with you. I can’t do this without you.

And beneath it, another message, sent hours later-

“I’m sorry. I slipped. I just… I didn’t know if you’d wake up.”

You cried. Because it should’ve been you holding him through the relapse. Because he had been trying so hard. Because this wasn’t recovery, it was survival. And even survival was slipping.

Somewhere, hundreds of miles away, Lando sat on the edge of a pristine hotel bed with his head in his hands, high out of his mind and sobbing. He didn’t want the high. He just wanted the noise to stop. He just wanted you to be okay. He didn’t feel better. Not even numb. Just empty. And it was then — in the silence between his shallow breaths — that he realized…the cycle wasn’t broken. It had just gotten quieter.

—

You wake up to the sound of the door creaking open. It’s been two days since the collapse. Two days of IV drips, quiet nurses, and a blurred timeline of stern lectures and shallow breathing. You’re better, technically. Awake. Alive. But not okay.

The room is pale and too still. It smells like antiseptic and synthetic lavender. The flowers on the windowsill weren’t yours — someone dropped them off this morning, anonymous and beautiful. And then he walks in. Lando.

He’s wearing the hoodie you stole from his Monaco apartment last winter — oversized and threadbare — and he looks like shit. Eyes puffy. Lips dry. He doesn’t have the energy to pretend this isn’t the worst version of both of you. You sit up slowly, instinctively tucking your knees under the blanket like shame can be hidden that easily.

“Hi,” you manage.

He closes the door behind him but doesn’t move closer. Just stares at you like he’s trying to memorize your face in case it disappears again.

“You didn’t answer my calls.”

You swallow. “I couldn’t. I… didn’t want to say anything until I knew I was okay.”

“You weren’t okay,” he snaps. “You aren’t okay. You passed out, YN.”

The silence is brutal.

“You said you were eating again,” he adds, voice cracking halfway through. “You lied to me.”

You look away, throat tight. “You relapsed too.”

He flinches. “Because I thought you were going to die.”

“You think I didn’t want to die?” you shoot back before you can stop yourself. “You think I fucking wanted to be here?”

His jaw clenches. He walks across the room, grabs the back of the chair beside your bed, but doesn’t sit.

“You’re not allowed to say that to me,” he mutters. “Not when you knew how close I was to breaking. Not when you promised—”

“I was breaking!” you yell. “Every time I looked in the mirror, all I saw was failure. Headlines telling me I was too fat, too messy, too washed-up at twenty-four. I couldn’t eat without hearing their voices in my head, Lando. I couldn’t fucking breathe.”

Tears slip down your cheeks. You don’t wipe them. He’s quiet for a beat. And then, in the smallest voice you’ve ever heard from him-

“And I couldn’t do any of it without you.”

You blink. “What?”

He steps closer. Slowly. Like he’s afraid of what’s about to come out of his own mouth.

“I used to think you were just the person I used to forget the worst parts of myself. The drugs. The sex. The late nights.” He breathes in. “But it’s not that anymore.”

You stare at him, heart in your throat.

“You’re not something I use to numb the pain,” he whispers. “You are the pain. And the comfort. And the chaos. And the only thing that’s made me feel fucking alive in months.”

His voice breaks. “I think I love you.”

The air is still. He finally sinks into the chair beside your bed, shoulders caving in like the confession took everything out of him. You don’t speak. Because you don’t know how to respond. Because some part of you always feared this moment — feared that the mess you made together might actually be real. That love might exist inside the cycle. That someone could look at you, hollowed and hurting, and still call it love. Lando doesn’t push you. He just stares at the floor, picking at the string of his sleeve.

“Say something,” he whispers finally.

But you can’t.

So you just reach out — trembling fingers brushing over his knuckles — and hold his hand like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to the world. You don’t say I love you back. But you stay. And right now, that’s the loudest truth you have.

—

You don’t have your phone anymore.

Not really. It was taken at intake, handed over with your makeup bag and the clutch of anxiety meds you’d been hoarding in your luggage “just in case.” You gave it up with shaking hands and a hollow chest. Somewhere in the distance, your name still echoed across headlines. But in here, it didn’t matter.

This place is all beige walls and early mornings. You sleep in a twin bed with sheets that smell like lemon detergent, and you sit in group therapy circles with girls who look just like you — too perfect, too thin, too tired.

You talk. Not all the time. But enough. You talk about the emptiness. The perfectionism. The terrifying high of disappearing and the unbearable crash of still being here. You don’t say Lando’s name — not at first. But he haunts the edges of everything. His hoodie is still the only thing you wear to sleep.

Some nights, you cry. Some mornings, you scream. Some days, you just breathe. It’s more progress than you’ve made in years.

Lando’s world doesn’t stop — Formula 1 doesn’t pause for pain. So he keeps racing. But something’s changed in him too. He doesn’t go out after practice anymore. Doesn’t disappear between sessions. There are no new girls, no blurry club photos, no gossip-worthy moments. He’s… quiet. Focused. Haunted. His team notices. So does his therapist.

Yes, therapist. Zak insisted. After Miami. After the relapse. After the look in Lando’s eyes started resembling burnout instead of bravado. And, reluctantly, he agreed.

At first, he sat through the sessions in silence, arms crossed, jaw clenched. But then the woman — her name was Dana — asked him a question that made something snap.

“What would it mean to love someone who might not survive loving you back?”

He cried. For the first time in years. And then he started talking. About the pressure. The fame. The way winning felt empty now and losing felt like the end of the world. About the way you looked in the hospital bed, wrists thinner than the IV line, eyes so tired but still there — still trying.

He talks about the pills. The sex. The high that used to feel like relief and now feels like shame. And, quietly, he talks about love. Not like it’s a promise — more like a wound he can’t stop touching.

They send letters now. Not texts. Not emails. Actual pen and paper letters that get reviewed by staff and delivered like old secrets. He writes to you after every race. Sometimes just a few lines—

P6. You would’ve said the helmet looked cool today. I’m still sober. Still tired. But I’m trying. Miss you. — L

You sends him drawings, mostly. Little sketches of the view outside your window. Notes in the margins—

Today I ate an entire sandwich. It scared me. But I did it. You’d be proud.

I miss hearing your heartbeat when I couldn’t find mine. I’m not ready for “I love you,” but I’m not afraid of it anymore either.

Please keep trying. I’ll meet you there. Eventually.

We are healing. Separately. But not apart. Not really. You count the days until you can leave — not because you want to run, but because you want to live again. To feel again. To see him again, clear eyed and real and maybe finally whole. He keeps showing up to the track. To therapy. To life. And every time he gets back in the car, he whispers before lights out, like a ritual—

For her. For me. For us.

It’s not perfect. But for once — for the first time — it’s not a cycle. It’s a beginning.

—

The world looks different on the outside. Not brighter, not softer. Just… clearer. Like someone cleaned the glass between you and everything else.

You’re not fixed — everyone in treatment made sure you understood that. There’s no magic milestone, no final day that turns pain into peace. But you’ve reached a point where you’re not surviving despite the feelings anymore — you’re surviving with them. And that’s something.

You walk out of the center with a suitcase, a discharge folder, and a goodbye hug from the nurse who used to sit with you when you couldn’t sleep. You haven’t worn makeup in over a month. Your hair is tied back in a bun. You look… human. For the first time in ages. You don’t tell Lando you’re coming.

You’ve rewritten your “I love you” a hundred times in your head — not like a grand confession, but like a careful gift, one you’re not entirely sure he’s ready to open. Or if you are. But you book the flight anyway. One way. To Monaco.

He doesn’t expect the knock. It’s late — nearly midnight — and he’s in one of his hoodies, sitting on the couch, eyes half-shut from a week of racing and back to back therapy sessions. There’s a half written letter to you on the coffee table. He hasn’t mailed it yet. When he opens the door and sees you — real, standing there, smaller than he remembers but glowing in a way he’s never seen before — his breath just stops.

“Hi,” you whisper.

He blinks once, twice, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

And then he exhales. “You’re here.”

You nod. Your eyes are already glassy. “I’m okay.”

He pulls you in before he can say anything else — arms wrapping around you like instinct, like muscle memory, like home. You melt into him. You smell like clean cotton and plane air and a life that doesn’t hurt quite as much anymore.

“I missed you,” he mumbles into your hair.

“I missed you too,” you whisper. “So much.”

You sit on the couch in silence for a while. Not awkward — just sacred. You hold his hand and trace small shapes into the back of it like your fingers forgot how to stop missing him. Then you finally speak.

“I love you.”

His head snaps toward you, like he didn’t expect it.

You say it again. Slower. Truer.

“I love you, Lando.”

He doesn’t speak. His throat bobs. His grip on your hand tightens, just slightly.

“But I’m scared,” you admit. “I’m scared that if we go back to the way things were, we’ll lose ourselves again. That we’ll drag each other down. That we’ll confuse love for dependency.”

He nods slowly. His voice is low, rough- “I’m scared too.” You meet his eyes — those tired, beautiful eyes that saw you at your lowest and didn’t look away.

“But I don’t want to live in fear anymore,” you say. “And I don’t want to live without you.”

He lets out a shaky breath, like he’s been holding it for weeks.

“We don’t have to go back,” he whispers. “We build something new. Slower. Smarter. Softer. No highs, no crashes. Just… us.”

You nod. A tear slips down your cheek, and this time, you let it fall. He wipes it away with his thumb, gently.

“I don’t want you to be my escape,” he says. “I want you to be my reason.”

You close your eyes and lean into his palm.

“I want that too.”

That night, you don’t fall into old habits. You don’t numb anything. You sleep curled up next to him, fully clothed, his hand resting over your heart like he’s guarding it. And for the first time in what feels like years, your dreams are quiet.

—

months later...

It’s strange, the way peace can feel unfamiliar at first. Like wearing a dress that used to hang off your frame — now it fits. And that alone feels like rebellion. You wake up most mornings beside him, and the air is quiet. Not heavy. Not desperate. Just calm.

His hand usually finds yours under the sheets before either of you even open your eyes. It’s instinct now. Like breathing. Like choosing to stay. Lando makes coffee the way you like it. You fold his laundry while watching race replays on his laptop.

It’s normal. Uneventful. Safe. But more than anything else — it’s real.

He’s doing well. Not just on track, but off it too. Still going to therapy. Still checking in. Still sober. Some nights are harder than others — you both know that. But there are fewer secrets now. Less shame.

You write again. Sketch. Eat. Exist. You laugh more. You cry less. You look in the mirror and see a person you’re learning to love — not a ghost. Sometimes people ask if the two of you are “still together.”

As if the world only expects passion if it’s breaking things. As if surviving each other doesn’t count. You don’t give them answers. You don’t owe them that. But if they looked close enough, they’d know. The way he looks at you across the paddock — that smile, soft and full of memory. The way your hand always ends up in his before lights out. The way you whisper “I’m okay” and mean it now.

You think about the song sometimes— Novacane. Even listen to it from time to time. The pattern of destruction you used to so closely live to Hell, you used to live inside it. The numbness. The quiet kind of destruction.

You used to need the high to forget how bad everything felt. You used to use sex to convince yourself you are worthy of life— of love. To forget all the little things that built up inside of you over the course of one day. You used to use drugs— pills, cocaine— anything to calm your nerves and rid your mind of all the bad press, the horrible comments, the overall stress of being a person in fame. You and him used to use each other to make some fucked up form of ‘happiness’.

You don’t anymore. Lando said it best a few weeks ago, while you both sat on the balcony of the Monaco apartment, wrapped in one blanket, your legs tangled together as the sun sank into the sea—

“You were never the high. You were what reminded me I deserved to come down.”

You smiled at him, rested your head on his shoulder, and let that be enough. Because you’re not perfect. He isn’t either. But together? You’re present. You’re healing. You’re free. And that’s better than any high you ever chased.

[bunny-jpeg]

Hello!!! How are you?🫶🏻✨

First of all, I love your writing, you have a marvellous mind. Pls keep doing what you're doing, it's chef kiss 🤌🏻🩷

Secondly, I would like to make an order I can share and enjoy with Lando 😉 Can we have a carrot cake, a chocolate chip cookie and a custard tart with a mocha coffee and a double espresso shot?

We know the mix is a bit too much but we trust you. Thank you very much in advance. Xx ♥️

the bakery menu

feel free to order your own treats! as for this order i am happy to serve up something sweet! i really hope you like this, i am proud of it! i'm also surprised of the amount of lando norris everyone wants!

carrot cake ("swallow it. all of it.") + chocolate chip cookie ("you're beautiful when you smile, but you're the prettiest when my cock is in your throat") + custard tarts ("i've never done this before.") + mocha coffee (breeding kink) + espresso shot (dirty talking) served by lando norris (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, breeding kink, oral sex (femme receiving), dirty talk, engineer!reader, driver!lando, virgin!reader, oral sex (lando receives),

lando loved you. he really did, not only were you his favourite engineer, you were also his girlfriend. lando didn't want to mess it all up and going too fast. but after almost five months of dating, you two had never had sex.

not that lando really minded, he wasn't some horny dog who needed his dick wet all the time. he wanted to cherish and love you. but sometimes, he'd let his mind wander at thoughts of you.

a particular one that bounced around in his mind, a personal favourite was the one where he bred you. that was for when you weren't with the team at races, and it was just lando and his fist.

thoughts of you in his arms, his cock bullied into your sweet pussy. his filthy words in your ear. sweet promises that he was going to breed you nice and well. and anytime you tried to mention your career, he'd just kiss you quiet. promising that you could still be an engineer with a couple of norris kids.

the thought of that made his cock ache every time he thought about it. belly full of life that the could snuggle after a race, taking your kids to the park. being a proper family. it always sent him over the edge and left a huge mess in his boxers.

but before he could make sure you were all full of his cum, he'd needed to have his first time with you. it wouldn't be fair to get you pregnant on your first time!

it was the off-season and you were back home. you two didn't live together, but you were over often. often scolding your boyfriend for misuse of the oven or something else that would be considered silly. he'd just smile and smooth the lines in your face with kisses.

the break between seasons felt like the perfect chance to finally get intimate with you. there was no jet-lag or running around. there was no sleepless nights and high anxiety days. you two could rest and get familiar with one another.

he was watching you check the pasta in the pot to see if it was fully cooked yet. he licked his lips and crossed his arms before he asked, "love, do you even think about us getting.. closer?"

you looked over and chuckled, "lando, i think it's a little too soon for us to live together."

lando scratched the back of his neck and replied, "no, no.. not yet. i mean, if you're comfortable. maybe we could try... having sex?" he felt his blood pressure jump.

you put the wooden spoon down on the counter and looked to your boyfriend. your mouth was in an 'o' shape for a moment before you said, "oh! sex!"

lando laughed, "you forgot about sex? i mean... did you ever think about sex.. sex with us?" he knew you weren't asexual or something akin to it, he knew that you masturbated and what not. you just never were in a situation where you would've had sex. and lando didn't want to shove it onto you.

your face went hot, "i mean... of course! i was just worried about having sex during the season!" you scratched your neck nervously, "i was worried that you'd pull something and your performance on the track would be worse. or that a change in the routine before and after races would ruin your chances of a good season."

lando laughed, "oh my god, love. come here." he got closer to you and wrapped his arms around you. then kissed you on the top of your head.

you looked at him, "i'm sorry. i didn't realize! but yes! i would love to have sex with you! but it might take a while. i've never even given a blow job."

lando kissed you once more, "how about after dinner, we start with that? we have a few months to get a little.. closer."

you nodded eagerly, "of course! i'd love to!" you heard the water boil over out of the pot and onto the stove. you got out of your lover's arms to check on the food.

lando felt excited. how could he not. he was getting a chance to feel intimate with his lovely girlfriend. the excitement that coursed through him even made your lovely dinner taste better!

-

"is there anything you want to try before we start. anything i can do to make this more comfortable." he asked as he looked down at you. you were seated on the bed. you feet didn't touch the floor of the bedroom. it was cute.

you swallowed, "um... i, uh. well." you looked away, your cheeks burned.

lando cupped your face and looked down at you, "nothing is gonna scare me, honey." he smiled at you, "tell me."

you said, your gaze met with him, "i.. i like dirty talk. anytime i've read it somewhere in like a story.. i found it very hot. and i know you're... mouthy." you chuckled a little to make a joke.

"well then." he said, "i'll keep that in mind."

you said a little nervously, "i'm a little nervous, i've never done this before." you felt a thrill of excitement through your body as you watched lando let go of you and pull his cock out of his shorts.

"don't worry, love." he said, "i'll make sure you feel good as well."

you pressed your cheek against his abdomen, letting him take control. the sight of his cock stirred something in you. a need for you to do your best and make your boyfriend feel good. even if you didn't have the skills, you were eager to learn.

and who would be a better teacher than your loving boyfriend. you closed your eyes and let lando guide your head onto his cock. you kissed his length before you softly took it in your mouth.

lando hissed through his teeth, but when you looked at him nervously he gave you a thumbs up, "don't worry. all good."

you took more in your mouth and started on a steady pace. you felt your heart hammer in your chest. you really had never done this before but you didn't want the excitement to cause you to mess up.

"that's it. that's a good girl." he groaned, the praise made you rub your thighs together. you were just so adorable. he couldn't wait to explore every inch of your sweet body.

he had all of the off-season to make love to you. and if he was lucky maybe his breeding kink could show a bit of himself. that made his cock twitch in your mouth.

your eyes were closed and your hands were on his hips to steady yourself as you orally pleasured him. you weren't terrible, at least in lando's opinion.

"are you sure this is your first time doing this?" he asked softly. you looked up at him once more, eyes gleaming. you nodded and little and lando laughed, "hmm, i don't know. you're really good at this." the praise made your core throb and lando noticed. he held onto your hair a little tighter and moved you a little further down his cock, "don't worry, love. it doesn't bite." and laughed. his cheeks were pink from the rush in his body.

you whimpered as you continued. you kept an ear open for all the noises that lando was making. from his heavy breathing to the shudder through his body. you trusted him that if you were doing something wrong, he'd tell you.

"you're beautiful when you smile, but you're the prettiest when my cock is in your throat" he cooed at you, "i wonder what the rest of the team would feel if they saw you like this. i know some of them have thought about you, get a few drinks in 'em and they're talking about how they want to be the one to ruin your virginity." he laughed, "but i know i'll be the one to ruin them for you. you'll only want my cock."

you whimpered, your pussy was slick. this was hottest thing you've ever thought could happen. yeah, you've read erotic fiction and gotten a bit flustered. but this was something else. this sent a shock through you as you continued to pleasure him.

orgasm felt sharp in his mind. he softly guided you as the dirty talk tumbled out of his mouth. "i wonder if i could make you choke next time." he panted, "i wonder how good you could take me. i want all of you, love. i want to see all the ways i could make you cum. i want it all, and we got all of the off-season to see what makes you tick."

you whimpered.

"my pretty girl." he purred, it made your heart leap.

"lando." you said with a glaze in your eyes. your voice was muffled by the cock in your mouth and it was so painfully cute but also erotic that it sent lando over the edge.

his pretty girl, his little engineer with his cock stuffed in your throat. it couldn't get better than that. the words tumbled out of his mouth, "swallow it. all of it." and the look you gave made him easily cum down your throat. he almost got hard for a second time when he saw how dutifully you swallowed it all down.

"holy shit." he panted.

as you laid back on the bed to catch your breath. you knew the night wasn't over because lando was soon between your legs with your calves over his shoulders. it was only fair that he returned the favour.

after all, he learned something very important about his girlfriend. she was easy to get wet. <3

[msmk11]

hi lovely!!

okay okay you know i'm IN LOVE with your Tangerine writings and i'm in big need of some good Tan hurt and comfort 😋😚 so if this is okay, the premise of my request is Tan being super aloof and seemingly uninterested in reader, like borderline mean, but the moment another dude shows an interest or she's in danger, he goes insane. like fully does anything to protect her and keep her as his!!

obviously feel free to ignore this if no inspiration strikes 🫶 sending my love! also no rush if you do think you wanna write it!

More Than I Should

Tangerine x fem!reader

WC: 3.4k

CW: drinking, partying

A/n: Hello my lovely Sky! Thank you SO much for requesting my dear. I don’t think I went as heavy on the tension as I could’ve, but I just think he’s such a big softie for reader that it’s hard!! I hope you enjoy and that it lives up to your expectations!!

“Well, well, if it isn’t my two favorite assassins.”

Tangerine and Lemon look up at you from their seats at the bar, mild surprise crossing their faces.

“Didn’t fancy you two to be people who spent their Fridays at a pub.”

Lemon snorts, “I reckon my bruv’s not, but I am. Love to people watch.”

You smile faintly at Tangerine, polite but detached. It’s not to say that you’re uninterested in the mysterious mustached man, but rather he’s always been aloof towards you.

“Alright Tangerine?”

He nods, “good as I can be.”

Lemon looks you over, eyeing your slightly more revealing clothes- fit for a night on the town, “and what are you up to?”

Across the room is a small group of your friends from university, sitting around a table picking at appetizers, “going out with some friends tonight. Reckon I need to let off some steam after all these jobs I’ve been put on.”

He chuckles, “I feel ya.”

“Well I uh, just thought I’d say hello. But I’m sure I’ll see you later?”

Tangerine gives you a neutral nod and Lemon fist bumps you before you turn and head back over to your friends, joining in on their rowdiness.

“Who were you talking to,” your old roommate, Sarah, slurs.

You wave her off, “just two coworkers.”

“So you just forgot to mention that you work with the sexiest men alive,” she replies, ogling Tangerine and Lemon equally, “Are they available?”

You nearly choke on your drink and Tyler, who is sitting to your right, pats you on the back.

“The fuck if I know,” you cough out, “I like to keep things professional, thank you very much.”

“Thank god they’re not my coworkers,” Natalie, who is across from you, adds, “I’d like to do some very unprofessional things to them.”

You groan and chug the rest of your vodka cran, “I’m gonna need a lot more drinks to deal with these two.”

Tyler agrees and hands you his card, “go get us some shots?”

The smooth plastic presses against your palm as Tyler places the silver card into your hand. You nod and kiss him on the cheek, promising to return soon. As the night has carried on, the crowd has only thickened, and you have to use your elbows to push through the swarm of people.

When you reach the other side of the room you call out to a bartender who is available and give her your order. Before you can hand over Tyler’s card, however, a voice interrupts you.

“Give me four more shots will ya. And put them on my tab.”

Tangerine stands next to you, a firm look on his face as you glance at him.

“Trying to steal my drinks?”

You swear a slight smirk plays on his lips.

“Just being friendly.”

A grin breaks out on your face, “I didn’t know that word was in your vocabulary. But anyways, thanks. Although I suppose Tyler should really be the one to thank you. He was supposed to pay.”

The brunette’s eyes flick across the room to your group of friends, “Is he your boyfriend?”

“Tyler?” You laugh, “no way. He’s just a friend from school. Why do you wanna know?”

“Well, usually, if a man pays for a girl’s drinks voluntarily, he likes her.”

“But you paid for-“

You’re cut off, however, when the bartender returns with your shots in hand. You balance the tiny glasses between your fingers, hoping the sticky drinks don’t spill on your way back to your seat.

“Wanna join us?” You ask Tangerine.

“Suppose I don’t have a choice, seeing as Lem has already been kidnapped by your friends.”

Sure enough, Lemon has been crammed into the booth between Sarah and Natalie, the two of them fawning over him. Not that he seems to mind much.

“Jesus Christ,” you curse, pushing back through the crowd.

Tangerine follows behind you to the table, his and Lemon’s shots in his hands. You set the glasses down in relief when you arrive and pull Tyler’s card from your pocket, returning it to him.

“I see you’ve made some friends, Lemon,” you smirk, before giving a warning glance to Sarah and Natalie.

“He looked so lonely!” Natalie protests, “we couldn’t leave him alone!”

“I think he would’ve survived,” you say, rolling your eyes, “But alas. I think proper introductions are in order. Everyone, these are my coworkers Tangerine and Lemon. Tangerine and Lem, these are my friends Tyler, Sarah, Natalie, and Chris.”

They all exchange polite greetings, though Sarah’s are more friendly and Tangerine’s less so. You move to slide into the booth next to Tyler but freeze. There’s only one spot left on the bench but two people to fit in. And it seems there are no extra chairs in sight.

“Oh this is gonna be a problem…” you murmur.

“You can just sit on my lap, if you want,” Tyler offers.

“That’s not necessary. I can just squeeze in on the edge,” Tangerine offers gruffly.

You shake your head, “No, no, I will. I invited you over. It’s not a problem, really.”

The brunette attempts to protest but you resist, gently pushing him into the seat. You slide onto the edge next to him, your arms squished together. You shuffle a little, trying to get comfortable.

“Here.”

Tangerine carefully lifts his arm up and wraps it around your shoulders, giving you more room on the seat while tucked into his side.

“Better?”

His lips are close to your ear and his gaze intent, and you can’t help but shudder a little.

“Better.”

He nods and looks away from you, his attention caught by the incessant questions pouring from Tyler and Chris’ mouths.

Lemon is similarly preoccupied with Sarah, but Natalie is staring straight at you, her eyes flitting excitedly between you and Tangerine.

‘Oh my god!’ She mouths.

You stare at her, perplexed.

‘He totally likes you!’

You almost snort, her suggestion so preposterous you can’t help but laugh.

‘No way,’ you mouth back ‘he barely talks to me at work, let alone like me.’

Natalie only huffs, rolling her eyes, ‘you’re in denial.’

You scoff and shake your head, picking up a shot and throwing it back. You tune into the conversations happening next to you, but the constant warmth of Tangerine at your side distracts you more than you’d like to admit.

*****

A chill night at the pub has quickly turned into full on rallying, your hoard of misfits stumbling from bar to bar in search of drinks and maybe someone to warm their bed on this chilly night.

Unsurprisingly, Lemon has joined in with the chaos. Surprisingly, Tangerine has too- though he doesn’t seem all that happy about it. You don’t mind his mood, not really. It’s a little endearing, frankly. And anyhow, you’re used to it. It’s just funny to see in the current setting. The club is full of raging, drunk idiots, your friends included and yourself on the precipice. Yet, amongst it all is Tangerine- sober, stoic, and commanding.

Throughout the evening Sarah and Lemon have paired up as well as Natalie and Chris- and you pray the latter doesn’t make things messy again. This leaves you sandwiched between Tyler and Tangerine, the two remarkably opposite yet their attentions both fixed on you.

Loud bass thumps throughout the room and you jump along, your feet just slightly sticking to the sticky floor beneath you. Tyler is singing and dancing along with you, but you haven’t quite been able to convince Tangerine to do the same.

The former grabs your hand and spins you around. It forces a giggle past your lips but also makes you dizzy. You stumble out of the spin and the floor comes rushing towards you. You brace for impact, but it never comes. Instead, a pair of hands grab your waist, stopping your descent. They pull you up gently and turn you around. It’s Tangerine.

“Careful there.”

You chuckle nervously, “lost my footing. Maybe spinning and alcohol isn’t such a good combo.”

His mustache twitches and he hums in agreement, “maybe not.”

“You okay, love?” Tyler asks, tapping you on the shoulder.

Tangerine’s grip on your waist tightens barely, the action almost unnoticeable it’s so subtle. You’d gasp if it wasn’t in Tyler’s line of vision.

“Hmm yeah, fine. Just lost my footing.”

“Maybe I should hold onto you tighter,” he chuckles with a wink.

Tangerine’s grip tightens again, but this time it’s far from subtle. You look back at him, your brows furrowed in confusion, but he’s not looking at you. Instead, he’s staring at Tyler, something dark and dangerous brewing behind his blue eyes. It’s a look you’ve seen before, in the field. A murderous one. You don’t know what it’s all about, but you don’t bother to ask. You respond to Tyler with a halfhearted giggle before moving to diffuse the tension.

“I love this song,” you cheer enthusiastically. You remove Tangerine’s hands from your waist and grab them with your own, “lighten up and dance with me, Tan.”

His eyes dart back to you and he grimaces. You only give him a warning glare to keep it together and he sighs, giving in. Tangerine dances, but stiffly. He lacks any real rhythm or fluidity, and you can’t help the giggle that escapes.

“What’s funny?” He huffs, squinting at you.

“N-nothing, nothing.”

You bust out laughing and he freezes.

“You fucking laughing at me?”

He doesn’t look angry, not really, but disbelieving.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You- don’t know how to dance, do you?”

Tangerine huffs and looks around before looking over your head at Tyler. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his credit card, “get us some drinks, will ya? On me.”

“What?” Tyler asks, scoffing a little.

“Get us some drinks, mate, yeah?”

Tyler scoffs again, “I can pay myself I-“

“Tyler, take the free drinks,” you warn.

‘Please’ you mouth.

He sighs and takes Tangerine’s card bitterly before stalking off towards the bar. Your eyes follow him out of sight, worrying your lower lip between your teeth. You’re too distracted to notice that the brunette has fully refocused his attention on you. He grips your waist suddenly and pulls you flush against him. This time, you do gasp audibly. Your head whips around and your noses brush, you’re so close.

“What’re you?”

“I’m showing you how to really dance.”

Tangerine proceeds to guide you through a series of steps, and you’re equal parts shocked and entranced. Despite the sticky floors, loud noises, and swarming crowd, you are only focused on Tangerine- the musky scent of his cologne, his blue eyes piercing yours, the firm grip of his hands, and his warmth right up against your front.

“Where’d you learn-“

He interrupts you by sending you into a dip. When he pulls you up again, he spins you and then grabs your hips to catch you. You’ve returned to your original positions, nose to nose, but now you’re panting heavily.

You can’t tell if it’s from the dancing or Tangerine.

“And that’s how a real partner spins you,” the brunette grumbles, his breath fanning across your lips.

“Right-“

“Drinks, anyone?!”

Tyler’s voice breaks the thick tension between you and Tangerine, and you accept the distraction gratefully. You spin around and grab the sweaty bottle, taking a long sip.

*****

Tangerine hates all of your friends. Okay, that’s a lie, he only hates Tyler. But he is mad at all of them. What sorta friends are you hanging out with that they leave you all alone in a bar? Okay, not alone. He is with you. And Tyler. But still? Frankly, he hasn’t seen any of those pricks in hours, including his own brother. You’re really drunk and Tyler is not far behind, and Tangerine’s about had enough of it all.

He’s checking his watch for the umpteenth time when he hears your murmur something about getting another drink.

“I think that’s about enough, love,” Tangerine interrupts, “you probably need to be getting home.”

You turn and look at him, your eyes softening into a big pout. He commits the precious look to memory but swears to never bring it up. Sober you would be beyond embarrassed.

“N-nooo, fine. I’ll be fine-“ you hiccup.

The brunette assesses you knowingly, “I don’t think so. Come on, I’ll call an uber to take us all back to our places.”

You stare at Tangerine with squinting eyes, like you’re trying to put him into focus.

“Fineeee, Mr. Moneypants. Come on, Tyler, we’re leaving.”

Your friend looks at you, “what? We’re not rallying to the next bar?”

You shake your head slowly, “time for bed, Ty.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulders and Tangerine clenches his jaw.

“I’ll get us an Uber?”

You pat Tyler on the chest, “not necessary. Tan is getting us one.”

Tyler rolls his eyes and moves his arm away, “alright fine, let’s go.”

Ten minutes later, the uber pulls up and Tyler takes the passenger seat, leaving you and Tangerine in the back. He guides you to the car and opens the door, gently helping you in so you don’t fall. He follows behind, taking a seat, and you collapse into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

Another thing he won’t mention.

Tyler gives instructions to what Tangerine assumes is his apartment, and the car sets off.

Not much later the car comes to a slow halt and Tyler gets out of the car. He peeks his head back in, “come on, love. You coming?”

You drowsily stir from your place on Tangerine’s shoulder. “Mmm? No, I’m going home.”

Tyler sighs, “come on, why don’t you just stay the night? I’ll sleep on the couch and you can have the bed.”

“No Tyler! I wanna go home!”

“Sweetheart-“

“She said she wants to go home, mate. Let it go.”

“And you’re gonna make sure she gets in safely,” Tyler asks rather bitterly.

“Stop the violence,” you mutter nonsensically, and the two hot-headed men look at you.

“Fine, whatever.” Tyler shuts the door and the car speeds off to your place.

Tangerine has no faith you will safely get from this car to your bed, so he pays the driver and gets out with you, supporting you around the waist as you stumble up the steps to your flat. You fumble for your keys in your purse, muttering curses as you shiver in the cold.

“Found it!”

You beam proudly, but then promptly drop them onto the concrete.

“Shit!”

“Here, let me, love.”

Tangerine bends down and grabs them before unlocking the door.

You step inside and he follows suit, careful to lock the door. Your place is homey, and undoubtedly suited to your taste. It even smells like you, and he can’t help but feel relaxed. He sets your keys on the coffee table and lets you lead him down the hall.

You stumble as Tangerine guides you into your room and onto the bed. He bends down on one knee, untying your shoes.

“Why don’t you like me?”

The brunette freezes, your question sending shivers down his spine. “What?”

“Y-you don’t like me Tangerine. And I don’t get it. Why? What have I ever done to you?”

He finally loosens the tie and peels your shoe off before starting on the other.

“Love, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Who said I didn’t like you?”

“Well you did. Okay maybe you didn’t say it. But you said it with your eyes. And the way you never talk to me or acknowledge me. I mean I’m not asking to be your best friend but…”

“You’ve got it all sorts of backwards, sweetheart.”

He pulls off your other shoe, “you have something to sleep in?”

“Oh no I usually sleep naked-“ you answer honestly, reaching for the hem of your shirt.

Tangerine grips your wrists, “that’s alright, you can wait til I’m gone.”

He’s grateful you’re drunk enough to not see him blush. The brunette gently pushes you backwards to lay down and throws your comforter over top of you. He moves towards the door.

“Wait, don’t leave!”

“I’m not, sweetheart, I’m just going to go get you some water.”

You relax back into your bed and nod sleepily.

When Tangerine returns with a glass in hand, you’re still. You’re even breathing tells him you’re asleep, so he simply sets the cup on your night stand and bends down, checking once more that you’re okay.

His eyes trail over your face. It’s softer than he’s ever witnessed before and his heart clenches painfully. Your eyelashes flutter in your sleep and your lips have rested in a pout. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

Unable to resist, he reaches out and cups your face, dusting his thumb across your cheekbone once, twice, three times before pulling away.

“You’ve got it all wrong, sweetheart,” he murmurs aloud, “I don’t hate you. I like you too much for my own good.”

Tangerine stands and leaves, shutting the door softly behind him.

What he doesn’t see is your eyes fluttering open at the click of the door.

*****

I like you too much for my own good…

The words spin in your head over and over til you think you’re going to be sick. You sit up and grab the cup of water Tangerine left, taking multiple gulps. Only when you feel a little bit of calm do you finally climb out of bed. It’s a quiet, peaceful morning, opposite of your racing heart.

You trudge down the hall to your kitchen to whip up some coffee and trip over a pair of shoes.

“Fuck!”

You throw your hands out to catch yourself but you don’t hit the ground. A pair of arms catch you.

“How many times am I going to have do that?”

Tangerine is half on your couch, a smirk- an actual smirk- on his face.

You sigh and groan, sitting down onto the floor, “okay that wasn’t my fault. You’re the one who left your shoes in the middle of my floor. In my flat. Remind me, why are you here?”

Tangerine lets go of your waist and pulls back, sitting up stiffly.

“Well I went to take you to bed last night ‘cos you were fucking hammered, and when I tried to leave, the Uber was gone. I… didn’t fucking feel like calling another… and your couch looked comfy… and I was worri- I wanted to make sure someone was here in case you were too drunk.”

Your heart swells, “you were worried about me? I’m starting to think maybe you don’t totally hate me.”

Your reminded of his words again and you freeze, catching his gaze.

“What?”

“Did you know… that I was awake last night. When you came back with the glass of water.”

The brunette grows impossibly stiff, “so you heard…”

“You like me more than you should?”

He sighs and restlessly runs his hand through his hair, “fuck me. Yeah. I’m- fucking Christ, sorry.”

You pull yourself up onto your knees, so that you’re closer to him, “because you’re sorry you said it? Or because you’re sorry I heard it?”

Tangerine grunts and looks down, sniffling, “The latter.”

Heat courses through your body at your confession and you tentatively place a hand on his knee. His head shoots up, his blue eyes looking at you in surprise and… something else. You hold his gaze, hoping your eyes communicate the desire humming through your body.

“Fuck,” he curses, before reaching out and grabbing your waist. This time, when he pulls you in, he kisses you gruffly, and you groan in surprise.

His mustache scratches your upper lip, but it’s not unpleasant. You run your hands up his sides to his shoulders, using his sturdy frame for balance as you stand and straddle his lap. He’s the one to groan this time, his grip bruising as he deepens the kiss.

Everything in this moment feels so good and perfectly right. Your body is alive, thrumming with excitement and desire and passion, and you’re pretty sure you could kiss this man forever and ever. In this moment, you’d do anything he asked.

So, you pull away, pacing yourself.

Tangerine groans as he rests his head on yours, “I wasn’t finished with you, sweetheart.”

“Take your time, Tangerine. We’ve got all day. And luckily, I like you more than I should.”

[wosospacegirl]

Stuck with you part - 12

Summary: Y/n’s used to Alexia’s overprotectiveness and the pressure of her career—but Kika? The shy, socially awkward teammate who’s starting to make her feel things she didn’t expect.

Warnings: Y/n and Alexia argue again, but I promise this is the last time! Plus ducks! <3 Also, who's that girl on Kika's Instagram post anyway?

Word count: 5.5k

a/n: this is a triple update! Parts 13 and 14 will come soon.

..

It was their third day of training, and the whole team had their suitcases and bags ready to go at La Ciudad del Fútbol's entrance hall. They were waiting for the bus that was going to take them to the airport, where they would be heading to Belgium.

This FIFA date was filled with friendlies. They didn't matter in the world ranking, but for some reason, Alexia was in her ear talking about strategies.

"Do you remember Janssen?" Alexia said. She was sitting on top of her suitcase while chewing on a sandwich. "She noticed how your left foot wasn't as precise as your right. She's gonna want to steal the ball from you whenever you're using your left."

"Umm," Y/n hummed, nodding her head along to whatever Alexia was saying, but she wasn't paying attention to it. Her eyes were fixed on Vicky's Nintendo. Damn, she should have brought hers as well.

"And Evrard, the goalkeeper–" She took another bite of the sandwich. "She's not good at defending close balls, so try to shoot from a long distance."

"Yeah, yeah." Y/n agreed, her eyes fixed on the race happening on Vicky's screen. The little cars were going so fast that it was making her dizzy, but it was better than listening to Alexia's tactical breakdown of every Belgian player's weaknesses.

"And that one defender– wait!" Alexia put her sandwich down. "Are you paying attention to me? Any of you two? I know this is just a friendly, but I have been watching Belgium's recent matches…they are a good team."

Vicky turned her attention to Alexia, blinking slowly "Oh, you were talking to me, too?"

Alexia ran her hands through her hair. "Forget it. I was just trying to give some insights about the game. Thought it might help us."

Y/n rolled her eyes.

"Alexia, it's a friendly. Relax," Y/n said, not bothering to look at her. "And also, I asked you not to talk to me. I'm still mad."

"Oh, not this again, I already said I'm sorry, nena," Alexia said, sounding tired, "multiple times."

Y/n shrugged, finally turning to look at her. "I'm still mad."

"I understand why what I did wasn't right," Alexia said, and there was a slight, almost-not-there pout on her face that Y/n pretended not to find a little bit cute. "But I am sorry, okay? I really am."

Y/n said nothing, so Alexia continued.

"You have forgiven the other girls, right?" Alexia fixed her posture. "Why not me too?"

"The other girls are in their early twenties," Y/n said, chin up.. "It was an honest mistake. You, on the other hand, have your cortex fully developed and still insist on those matchmaking plans."

"But–"

"I think you should just leave Nena alone," Irene said from the corner of the room. She was leaning against the wall next to Alexia, phone in her hand, looking like she was enjoying the show way too much. "You did act like a teenager."

"I–" At first, Y/n could see Alexia was ready to talk back to Irene, but then, she closed her mouth and nodded. "Ugh, yeah, I guess you are right..it wasn't very mature of me, the whole charade thing."

Irene looked up from her phone, eyebrows raised. She clearly hadn't expected Alexia to actually agree.

"I thought I was helping," Alexia shrugged. "Obviously, it didn't work out."

"For someone as smart as you, Alexia," Irene said, not even bothering to look up from her phone now, "you are rather emotionally stupid."

Vicky nudged Y/n with her shoulder, a teasing smile spreading across her face. "She's just like you."

Y/n nudged her back, harder. "At least I know how to make a nutmeg."

"At least I know how to talk to the girl I like," Vicky replied, attention back to her game, her fingers moving fast over the buttons.

"That's why I don't sit with you," Y/n said, getting up from her spot and walking a few steps until she was squeezed between Jana and Ona. 

She stuck her tongue out at Vicky, who returned the gesture without missing a beat on her game.

"At least I got La Reina all to myself," Vicky said, moving her fingers fast on the Nintendo, but at the same time laying her head down on Alexia's shoulder affectionately. 

"You can keep her," Y/n murmured as she opened her bag, taking a book out of it. She could feel Alexia's eyes on her, but she refused to look up.

"Wait–" Ona said, looking down confused ", You're reading?"

"I'm trying to," Y/n said, opening to the first page and immediately feeling her brain protest. "You know, dyslexia hits hard, but I have to try at least... Reading is important for the mind."

"Important for the mind, huh?" Jana said in a knowing tone that made Y/n angry."I bet this has nothing to do with Kika, then?"

"Nope!" Y/n lied, beginning her painful journey into the first chapter of the book. The letters were already starting to get mixed up on the page.

Jana was annoyingly fast and snatched the book from Y/n's hands before she could protest, trying to read the name on the cover.

"Oh, come on, 'I Have More Soul Than One?'" Jana said, looking at the Portuguese title. "That's a Portuguese book. You don't even try to hide it now, do you?"

"I'm not reading it because of Kika," Y/n said, taking the book back with a scowl, "I'm reading because I have to do other things than just think about her."

Y/n was in that late stage of liking someone, where you tried to do new things with the sole reason of looking cooler than you really were, just to impress the other person. 

It was pathetic, but it was living.

The bus soon came, taking the whole team to the airport.

The flight was fast and calm, and most girls were sleeping because they had woken up very early. Y/n, though, was awake, scrolling down her Instagram, trying to forget she was on an aeroplane, miles away from the ground.

She had seen a lot of posts about politics, recipes, and, honestly, rage-bait posts too. But none of them caught her attention as much as Kika's new post.

It was a dump, filled with pictures of her and her family, pictures of beaches in Portugal, as well as pictures from Portugal's last match against England. They were all normal pictures, except for one.

It was the seventh picture out of fifteen. It wasn't the first picture nor the last. It was right in the middle, and that meant something. What did it mean? Y/n didn't know, but her stomach was already twisting itself.

Kika had her cheek pressed against another girl's face, and the picture was up close. The two girls were both smiling so much that the corners of their lips were almost touching. They looked... happy. Really happy.

Y/n hated that. Especially because when she opened the Instagram comments, the girl Kika had tagged in the picture had commented.

'Mine <3'

Mine?

Y/n felt her stomach drop, and she didn't know if it was because of the girl or because the pilot had just told them they were going to land and the aeroplane was beginning to descend. Her hands were suddenly clammy, and she felt gross.

Y/n poked Jana, who was sleeping beside her. She moved but didn't open her eyes, so Y/n poked her again, and then again, until she could see Jana's brown irises looking at her with pure annoyance.

"Qué?" Jana asked, irritated. Then she turned around, trying to see if anyone was getting up from their seats, as if the only justification for Y/n to wake her up was if they were leaving the flight.

Y/n didn't say anything. She just took her phone and shoved it in Jana's face.

Jana rubbed the sleep from her eyes and sat up straight. She took the sleeping mask that was resting on top of her head and pulled it into her lap, as if she was getting ready to discuss business.

Jana took Y/n's phone and began looking at the pictures and then at the comments. Y/n watched her face carefully, looking for any sign of what she was thinking.

"Oh," Jana said after a few seconds of silence that felt like hours.

"They're dating, aren't they?" Y/n asked, despair creeping into her voice. "Fuck– did I kiss someone who's dating? Fuck, and here I was thinking I might have a chance–"

Jana put her finger rather aggressively on Y/n's lips, shutting her up. "Calm down! It's just a picture, and yeah... their faces are like, very close together, but it's just a picture."

"She wrote 'mine' in the comments," Y/n pointed out, her voice muffled against Jana's finger. "You wouldn't write 'mine' on someone's comment if they weren't your girlfriend!"

"I think she just meant it in a friendly way," Jana said, but even she didn't sound convinced.

"Impossible," Y/n rolled her eyes. "What kind of friend does this?"

Jana gave her a side-eye. "Bold of you to say that, considering we're Spanish and we sunbathe topless with friends."

"We–" Y/n pointed at both her and Jana "–are Spanish. Kika and the girl are Portuguese. They aren't like us. We're naturally affectionate, they aren't."

"I think you're stereotyping a bunch of Portuguese people right now," Jana said.

"Oh," Y/n thought for a second. "Yeah, it might be... but still, that doesn't change the fact that Kika posted a photo with another girl and that the girl wrote 'mine.'"

"Kika did what?" Vicky asked, her head popping up from the row behind them.

Jana took the phone and showed it to Vicky.

"Oh."

"That's what I said," Jana murmured.

"Maybe they're just friends," Vicky said, giving the phone back to Y/n, but her tone suggested she didn't believe it either.

Y/n leaned her head back further into the seat and crossed her arms. "I hate this."

"Maybe you should like it," Vicky suggested. "Just so she knows you saw it."

"And how would that change anything?" Y/n asked grumpily.

"If they're just friends," Jana said, "maybe she'll rethink the picture, or maybe she'll message you saying the girl means nothing to her."

Y/n looked at Jana as if she were stupid. "You're talking as if Kika and I have something going on, which we don't."

"Yet," Vicky said. "You'll have something going on soon."

"If she's single," Y/n murmured, staring at her phone screen.

"She's single," Jana said. "She hasn't mentioned any girl to us. If she were dating someone, she would tell us."

"What if she just started dating right now?" Y/n asked.

"You shouldn't work with 'what ifs,'" Jana said. "Just take it step by step. Like the picture and just... move on. I'm like ninety-seven per cent sure it's nothing."

"I believe in those three per cent," Y/n said, staring at the photo again.

"Of course you do," Jana said, rolling her eyes and pulling her sleeping mask back over her face.

..

When they got into the hotel in Belgium, Y/n was still not talking to Alexia, and people were starting to notice it..

"Capitana has a scowl on her face, kid," Leila said as they both stepped into the same elevator, just the two of them in the small, enclosed space.

If it were Y/n from a few months ago, she would have thought she was in a rom-com, but because it's Y/n from the present–the one who is head over heels for Kika and partially heartbroken by the Portuguese's possible relationship–she is rather indifferent to the situation.

"She always has a scowl on her face," Y/n said, looking up at Leila. "It's her natural state of being."

"Hm," Leila said, in a tone that showed she knew more than she was letting on. "She has had that scowl since morning, though, and something about it tells me it has to do with you."

"Me?" Y/n said in a faux-offended tone. She knew it was because of her. "Why do you think that?"

"It's like she's always ready to say something when she's around you, but she thinks for a second and then shuts up," Leila said.

Y/n knew Leila was fishing for information about what was happening between them. She knew it was because Alexia hadn't told her anything about it.

"Alexia's annoying," Y/n said.

"She is," Leila agreed. "But she also cares for you a lot."

"She cares too much," Y/n murmured.

She looked at the numbers on the elevator; they were on floor 6 right now, both of them going to floor 18. 

Something told Y/n they were going to talk for the rest of the ride up, but Y/n didn't mind much. She preferred it over being alone in the elevator, overthinking until she convinced herself she was going to get stuck.

"Something about your tone tells me you don't want her to care this much," Leila said.

"I just don't want her to intrude," Y/n said. "She's always there…on the pitch, at home, always giving unsolicited advice, doing things she thinks are best for me as if I'm not an adult. It's annoying."

"Alexia has a problem with boundaries," Leila said. "She doesn't know how to separate her private life from her football life. She's been like that since we were kids at La Masia–"

"--And then you got into her life, a kid who plays for the same club as her, a kid who was her responsibility, a kid who grew up into a woman, but Alexia doesn't see it."

"She really doesn't," Y/n said, blushing slightly at how Leila said she had turned into a woman. Most of the time, she still saw herself as just a girl.

"I know you don't have contact with your parents," Leila began carefully. "But stuff like that, older people not seeing how the young ones grew up, is natural. It happens with parents, with guardians... Alexia just doesn't know how to act now that you're responsible for yourself."

Y/n was silent for a second. Now they were on the thirteenth floor.

"Did she tell you that?" Y/n asked.

"She didn't have to," Leila said. "I'm observant."

They got to their floor, both girls leaving the elevator. Y/n turned to the right, while Leila went left.

"Just–" Leila began. "Talk to Alexia. She means well in her actions, she just doesn't choose the best way to show she cares."

"Sometimes it feels like she shows it in the worst way possible," Y/n said.

"She's learning to," Leila shrugged. "We all are. That's why it's important to know how to apologise…" She looked at Y/n, "...and to forgive."

..

Y/n barely had time to let Leila's conversation or Kika's post sink in properly. The team had exactly 40 minutes to get situated in their rooms before going down for another training session.

The match was tomorrow at 8 am sharp, so this afternoon's training session was the team's last chance for proper preparation. Although some of the girls were more preoccupied with counting the ducks in the pond by the pitch.

"There are twenty-two," Y/n said proudly, chin up.

"No, there's twenty-one," Vicky said. "I think you counted the same one twice."

They stood by an old wooden bridge, cold air hitting their faces as they listened to the ducks quacking while they swam around the pond.

"I didn't," Y/n turned to her with a frown. "I have dyslexia, not dyscalculia."

"I counted twenty-three," Irene said, taking a picture of the ducks. "I'm gonna send this to Matteo, he loves ducks, calls them chickens."

"Why are we counting?" Ona said. "Training is over, we have a literal pool we can use."

"We need to be in touch with nature," Y/n mumbled, beginning to count again.

"Pool has water," Ona rolled her eyes. "Water is nature."

"Water is technically inorganic," Jana said, leaning over the bridge. "So I don't think it's considered nature."

"I wanna go to the pool," Leila said, she and Ona being the only ones in the group that went against the idea of going to the pond to count ducks. "At least there isn't any chance of getting the avian flu."

"I don't think we can get avian flu from this far," Y/n said, turning to Leila before turning back to the pond. "Fuck, I forgot which ones I had already counted."

Y/n began counting again, eyes squinting. 

"There's definitely twenty-two," Alexia said from behind them, her finger pointing at each duck, completely focused. "Yeah, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one and twenty-two."

"Achoo!" 

Jana sneezed next to them, which made a duck fly from the pond to god knows where.

Vicky had a victorious smile on her face. 

"See, twenty-one."

..

Y/n should have known that counting ducks wouldn't be the most complicated part of their trip to Belgium.

Sixteen hours later, the final whistle had blown, and she was standing in the middle of the pitch, watching Alexia's back angrily.

Alexia was a great captain, a great friend, and a great guardian, too. The only problem was, those labels could not coexist in one single relationship, but for Y/n, that was who Alexia was to her.

Y/n knew Alexia was a great leader to their club and country. Alexia was good with personal advice, she was a great older sister to Alba, and Y/n knew that whenever she and Olga decided to have a kid, Alexia would be a great mom.

Different from common belief, the addition of all that didn't create a super relationship between Alexia and Y/n.  They loved each other dearly, no doubt about that.

But the line of where they stood was always blurry, ever since Alexia took Y/n into her care when she was fourteen. Especially because two years later, they were playing on the same team.

It was supposed to be just a simple friendly against Belgium, but for some reason, both teams had been heated from the first whistle. Yellow cards were being thrown around, and fouls were being committed by both teams.

Y/n didn't know what was happening to the Spanish team.

 Patri had fouled the same player three times; on the third, she got a yellow card. Then, Ona couldn't seem to keep the ball at her feet, just like Salma.

The players were so heated that Alexia and Aitana were running around giving earfuls to everyone. Alexia's captain mode was on, just as much as Aitana's, even if she wasn't wearing the captain's armband.

During the fifteen-minute break, it was like Montse wasn't the manager, but Alexia and Aitana were. 

They were talking in a fast, angry voice about every detail the team was doing wrong. Everybody listened to them with their heads down; they knew they were letting their emotions get the best of them.

Y/n had been distracted the entire game; her mind kept drifting to that stupid Instagram post, to Kika's face pressed against another girl's. She had missed two easy passes and lost the ball three times.

She wasn't in the best state of mind and had even told Montse it would be better if she were subbed off, but the manager said no, that she should keep playing, so she did. But Y/n was rather reckless and got a yellow card.

And because she was hot-headed and her emotions were already all over the place, she argued with the referee and said things that weren't very nice. 

Things that made the referee threaten her with another yellow card.

Alexia, when she saw her arguing, got extremely angry. Not just captain-angry, but that specific kind of fury that Y/n had only seen a handful of times.

And that's when Alexia and Aitana snapped.

While Alexia was talking with the referee, Aitana was snapping at Y/n, who felt like a little kid all over again. 

But then, Alexia came over to them, patting Aitana's back. "Hey, let me talk to Nena, yeah?" she said, and Aitana nodded, going to her spot.

"Are you stupid or what?" Alexia asked her, a frown on her face. "I had to basically beg the referee not to give you another yellow!"

"I didn't mean to call her names!" Y/n said as both she and Alexia walked back to their positions. "I'm sorry!"

She tried to pretend that the way Alexia called her stupid didn't affect her.

"If you got another yellow, you would get a red, you'd leave us with one 10 players", Alexia continued. "How can you still let your emotions take over? Be better than that. Grow up!"

With that, Y/n stood in her position while Alexia ran to hers, holding back the tears that were almost falling.

When the game was over (Spain winning 2-1), not that Y/n cared much, she turned away, trudging off the pitch before any of her teammates could stop her. 

The team was still there, celebrating their victory, arms wrapped around each other, talking and laughing like they hadn't just played the most frustrating ninety minutes of football Y/n had experienced in months.

Patri and Pina were dancing around, Ona and Aitana were wrapped in a Spain flag, taking selfies.

Y/n turned around and walked fast through the tunnels. She was trying to run from all that noise, and trying to run from Alexia. 

But her escape plan didn't work, because La Reina was right behind her, Y/n could tell by the familiar sound of her footsteps.

"Para de córrer, Y/n, va!" [Stop running, Y/n, come on] Alexia called out, she was slightly out of breath. "I just wanna talk to you."

Y/n rolled her eyes.

She was in a foul mood, and she knew she would just ruin everything.

 Plus, she had more important things to worry about, like the fact that Kika might be dating someone and Y/n had been a complete idiot about it and that she had basically forgotten how to play proper football.

"Go back to the pitch, Alexia," Y/n muttered, her voice tight with frustration. "I don't wanna talk to you right now."

"What I said on the pitch was necessary," Alexia said, following her into the locker room. Her captain's voice was still on, all business and no warmth. "You were out of line with the referee. But the way I handled it…that wasn't right. I'm sorry for that."

Y/n sat heavily on the bench, yanking off her boots without looking at Alexia. 

She hoped the silence would push her away, but of course, La Reina never let herself be ignored. It was like she sensed when Y/n Y/n wanted to be left alone.

"Y/n," Alexia's voice softened as she sat beside her. "I need you to help me understand what's happening here."

Y/n let out a sharp breath, turning to her with a scowl.

"And who are you now?" Y/n snapped. "Are you Alexia, the captain? Or are you Alexi, the guardian?"

The words hit Alexia, and her face faltered for a second. "I..." she started, then stopped. "I don't know how to answer that. "Soy solo la Ale.." [I'm just Ale]

"You're never just Ale to me," Y/n shot back, and then, she felt her voice cracking a bit, there was too much emotion inside of her, it was making her confused.

Alexia was quiet for a long moment, her hand hovering near Y/n's shoulder before she finally placed it there. "Is this about the game? Or something else entirely?"

The knot in Y/n's chest tightened. It wasn't just the game. It was the build-up…Kika's situation, the referee,  Alexia snapping at her on the pitch, Y/n's poor performance,  and now everything was bubbling over. 

She didn't even know why she was mad anymore.

Y/n buried her hands in her face, trying to breathe and ground herself. She had done it when she was just a kid, pressing her palms to her face when she felt too overwhelmed by the world around her.

Alexia didn't say anything. She just wrapped her arms around Y/n, like she used to when Y/n was a small kid, upset after one big loss.

"This isn't working," Alexia said quietly. "The way we have been doing things. I can see that now. And I know I'm very much at fault lately. But maybe if we talk things out…?"

"I don't wanna talk," Y/n mumbled, her words muffled against Alexia's shoulder. Alexia's presence was helping her somehow; it was getting easier to breathe, her warmth was comforting, which just made Y/n feel even more at a loss with her feelings. "I don't like it."

"Neither do I," Alexia admitted. "But we can't keep pretending this isn't complicated. And I know your upbringing wasn't normal. I mean, most teenagers don't move in with a player who had no idea what she was doing."

"I have been trying to be everything to you," Alexia began carefully. "Captain, guardian, friend... and I think I have been failing at all of it."

"You are just too much," Y/n said in a slow voice, as if she didn't want to say it. "It's hard. I don't know who I am to you, and I don't think you know it either."

Alexia was quiet. She just let her talk.

"I love you, Ale," Y/n said. "But…it's hard, it's confusing."

"I know I have crossed the lines a few times with you and–"

"You have," Y/n interrupted her. "Way too much. It's like I can't breathe around you. I feel like you're always plotting something, always ready to yell at me on the pitch as a captain, always there to get in between my private life... You don't do that with the others."

Y/n could tell Alexia was hurt by the way her body stiffened.

Y/n wiped the tears from her eyes and got up. She didn't look at Alexia's face when she opened her locker to get a change of clothes.

"When the season at Barcelona's over, I'm moving out," Y/n said, the words shocking even herself, but she stood her ground. "I think it'll be good. I'm nineteen, almost twenty. I should look for my own place."

There was silence in the room. Y/n turned around, but Alexia wasn't sitting on the bench. 

Seconds later, the door to the locker room shut.

..

The bus ride to the hotel after the game was awkward, to say the least. Everybody was happy that they had won their first game in this international break. All arguments and scolding were long left on the pitch.

All but one.

The one between Alexia and Y/n.

Y/n didn't plan to tell Alexia she wanted to move. Hell, she wasn't even planning to move.

She liked Alexia's and Olga's house. It was a two-story house, and it had a backyard with a pool and an indoor gym. Alexia's mom had planted a bunch of trees, so they had a lot of fresh fruit during the summer as well.

The house was comfortable, and Y/n's room was great. She had her own en-suite bathroom, and the furniture was all custom-made. Olga had designed it when Y/n first arrived.

It wasn't just a house, it was a home, and it really felt like home to Y/n. Alexia and Olga never made Y/n feel like it wasn't her house, or if she was there temporarily.

Y/n even heard them talking about how they wanted to have kids in the next few years, how they would paint the baby's room with the same light grey colour as Y/n's room, so they could match.

The plans they made always involved Y/n. But in the heat of the conversation, Y/n couldn't help but feel like it really was time to move out.

She wasn't going to another country, of course. Even though she thought about that.

During the bus drive, Y/n wondered if she shouldn't just go to a club in Germany or England during the next transfer window. 

Maybe leaving Barcelona behind was a good option. She loved the city, she loved her team, but sometimes, she just wanted to run away and start over again in another place, as if her own past wasn't going to follow her wherever she went.

Y/n placed her head against the window. It was raining now, and the bus was stuck in traffic. 

An ambulance ran through the side of the bus, and Y/n felt guilty for being annoyed at the traffic when there was probably someone in distress or hurt.

Alexia was sitting by her side. They always sat together on the bus–they both liked silence before and after a game, so they were the best pair. Although now, Alexia's silence wasn't comforting, it was heavy.

Y/n watched her out of the corner of her eyes, trying to read her expression.

Her jaw was set. Y/n could count the wrinkles on her face from the scowl on her face. She wasn't mad, she was hurt and trying to hold it in.

Y/n wanted to ignore it. She wanted to stay on the bus in silence while everyone else around them moved on with their lives. She wanted to pretend this situation wasn't happening.

She wanted to forget about Kika, forget about the girl Kika was in the picture with. She wanted to forget how badly she played and how she was scared that she wasn't going to get another call-up. She wanted to pretend she had never moved in with Alexia and Olga.

Right now, she wished her parents hadn't taken her to Masia. That her parents had decided to be normal and unsupportive parents who didn't want her to follow a football career, and that they had forced her to quit football to focus on school.

That they had been caring parents and not dropped her off at Alexia Putellas' house the moment they knew it was an option.

She wanted to pretend this wasn't her life. That this wasn't the consequence of her choices.

But she couldn't.

When she was fifteen, she was lying on the sofa with Olga and Alexia. Alexia had her head on Olga's lap. Y/n was kneeling on the floor, doing her math homework on the coffee table. It was a calm Saturday afternoon.

Olga was reading out loud–she did that sometimes.

Y/n didn't remember the book; she only remembered Olga quoting:

"One does not find peace by avoiding life," she said in a soft voice, and continued to read as if that sentence didn't change the whole perception of Y/n's life.

One does not find peace by avoiding life.

Y/n turned to Alexia, and, without a word, she laid her head on her shoulder.

"Perdón si estoy siendo tan mala al punto de que quieras irte de casa." Alexia said in a low voice. [I'm sorry if I'm being so bad that you want to leave the house]

Casa.

It was Y/n's home indeed, and would forever be, but she needed more.

"No estás haciendo nada mala" Y/n said. "Solo necesito... crecer, sabes? Ya no tengo catorce años, no necesitas cuidarme más." [You're not being bad. I just need to... grow up, you know? I'm not fourteen anymore, you don't need to take care of me]

Alexia was silent. "Cuidé mucho de ti, quizás demasiado. De verdad lo siento… voy a dar un paso atrás." [I took care of you too much, maybe too much. I'm really sorry…I'll take a step back.

Y/n remembered what Leila told her, about learning to apologise and to forgive.

"Te perdono, no te preocupes más por eso, de verdad. Y/n said. [I forgive you, you don't have to worry about it anymore]

"Do you still wanna move out?" Alexia asked.

Y/n thought for a second, and nodded, as much as she could with her head on Alexia's shoulder.

"Okay," Alexia said, as if it hadn't really sunk in just yet. "Olga will cry, though."

"She's a crier, yep," Y/n said. "But you'll cry too."

"I won't," Alexia said determinedly, as if it were a challenge. "Do you know where you wanna go? Are you moving to one of Barcelona's complexes?"

"No," Y/n said. "I want a house, but I still have time to think. The season will end in three months, I'll look for something."

"I'll help you look," Alexia said.

"Gracias," Y/n said. [Thank you]

Y/n was scared about moving away. She hadn't considered it until now. But she needed to. 

She needed to find her own space, create her own routine, and be independent in a way that would only be possible if she lived on her own.

It was scary, but it was exciting, too

..

Tag list: @footy-lover264 , @fortifyde, @naomigirmadefender , @neutraiise , @milkveed, @browercc , @ace-of-baked , @ikzzzya , @sky-the-trans-guy00 , @knight-16, @wosohk04, @evaissleepy13, @papimapileon , @unpoppablebubbles @whiskeredshrimp-blog @goodloe-e @liloandstitchstan @s0ciety-cxv @dfwspky @karmajn @awosofavs @wosofavfanfics

a/n: This is the end of Y/n and Alexia's difficult relationship! Things will be lighter between them from now on! Also, the quote Olga said it's from a film, not a book, I just put it in a book for the plot.

[schemmentisimpasours]

Simping for Schemmenti

THE LAST DAY OF SCHOOL

-

Summary: Melissa has been pining after you all school year and after a much needed push to finally tell you.

Next Chapter

Masterlist

-

It was the last day of school, a half day, that Janine had turned into one last employee outing. At first, everyone was resistant until you offered up your sister’s pool while she was away on vacation. Once you had promised Ava it was in a nice neighborhood and yes she was a real doctor that she had agreed as long as she could bring her ring light. Janine and Gregory had readily agreed when they looked up how hot it would be. Barb only hesitated until she was promised cocktails. Jacob promised to bring a volleyball for water sports. It was only Melissa that needed convincing.

“Mel, come on you don’t want to spend one last day together before we all separate for the summer?” You asked leaning to pluck a piece of chocolate croissant off her plate.

Everyone else would have gotten their hand slapped (even Barb) but you had a special claim over Melissa’s food. You always had a special place with Melissa since you started working at Abbott at the beginning of the year, when you had proved yourself as a more than adequate 3rd grade teacher in her opinion and pulled a knife from underneath your skirt to defend a child from a hostile dad breaking a restraining order. However, that was a story to be explained more fully for a different day. 

  You seemed to have fit in easily with everyone at Abbott. Being Ava’s friend since childhood she gave you shit constantly but you had a nerdy side that appealed to both Jacob and Janine. Gregory and you had become close over his love of gardening and how you were more than willing to follow his directions on how to care for it while he was gone. Even Mr. Johnson appreciated your extra help in fixing things that seemed to go wrong around the school. Barb had loved you when you came in mumbling the hints for the crossword under your breath one morning, and she finally had someone to do them with. 

Now you stared at Melissa and the woman tried to put up another protest before Barb gave her a sharp kick to the shin. She kicked back before replying, “Of course as long as I get to cook the snacks. I don’t trust any of y’all with food.”

A huge smile spread across your face, “Great, I will go finish the details and text y’all the address.”

When the bell rang and the teachers made their way to classrooms, Melissa pulled Barb to the side, “I’m going to have a bruise because of you. What the hell was that for?

“Because you were about to say no to one final day with Y/N. You still haven’t told her about your feelings and you really want to go the whole summer without seeing her,” Barb retorted.

“Maybe they will go away this summer.”

Barbra’s friend let out a hearty laugh, “I have watched you try to get over this crush ever since you eye banged her over the knife fight. I am not going to watch you sulk all summer because she isn’t around to pester you with nonsense questions. Now tell me why you didn’t want to go.”

Melissa groaned, pushing her glasses up, “Because the thought of Y/N in a swimsuit of any kind makes me have all sorts of not school appropriate thoughts.”

“Good thing we won’t be in school,” Barb laughed before heading into her classroom.

Melissa shook her head before making her way to her own class. On the way, she peeked into your room. You were sitting on the top of your desk, legs spread in your blue jeans with your burgundy converse swinging back and forth, showing how short you actually were. It made her smile the way you were so comfortable in your classroom.

Melissa could have stood there staring at you all day but a child grabbed her hand, “Mrs. Schemmenti we are waiting for you.”

—----

The final day of school came and soon everyone was sprawled out by the pool. You had your face in a book toes dipped into the water. A loose red Abbot Elementary shirt was rolled up and tucked into your swim suit top showing off your black biker shorts. You had intentions of getting into the water at some point but little did you know that plan that your coworkers had put together. Sick of you and Melissa flirting with each other but never making a move it was Barb you had called together the group. And Ava who had enforced fear upon Janine to actually keep the secret. 

“Y/N what book you reading?” Janine asked leaning over. 

You went to show her the cover but she snatched it from you and Ava rushed in behind you and pushed you in. You fell into the pool popping back up quickly but not before you were entirely soaked. You whipped your head towards Ava and Janine who were laughing.

“Ava, I expected this from you. But Janine. I thought you were above this,” You said before whipping your wet t-shirt at both of them.

“We wanted you to get into the pool and actually enjoy the event that you planned,” Ava smirked.

“You getting in then?”

“Girl you know I just got my nails down,” She said holding them up to reflect the blue and green sparkles, “I couldn’t get..”

She stopped mid sentence as your shorts hit her square in the face, “You nasty Y/N, I never asked for you to be dropping drawers for me. We all know you got a crush on someone else in the school.”

“Ava!” You screamed and then sank under the water trying to compose yourself. You jumped up quickly off the edge and pulled Ava back into the water with you. 

You both landed with a splash, but came up both laughing. Janine jumped in after you and soon the three of you were hounding the boys to let you play volleyball with them. 

While all of this transpired, Barb was watching Melissa intently. Melissa’s eyes had been on you the whole party, to the point she could have told you how far you had gotten in your book Legendborn. When you had thrown your shirt at Ava, exposing your purple bikini top she had taken an audible gulp. Then when you had tackled Ava to the pool and the couple of moments your barely covered ass had been showing Barbra could have sworn that Melissa’s face had started to sweat.

“You are going to bore a hole in that poor girl’s head,” Barb said, shaking Melissa.

“There relationship is so odd,” Melissa said, avoiding Barbara’s comment, “Ava is a completely different person around her. Happier.. Less cliques.”

“Y/N brings out the best in people. Including you,” Barb smiles, “However if you don’t tell her your feelings soon I may have to scream it like Ada just did.”

“So you did hear that?” Melissa said finally flipping her eyes off you, “Who do you think she was talking about.”

“You! You bumbling idiot,” Barb muttered.

Before Melissa could respond, you were calling her name. She looked over and you and swore under her breath. You were perched up boobs on the pools edge your hair falling in wet droplets around you. 

“So what do you say Mel, you coming to join us so we can beat the boys,” You said, breaking her out of her silence.

“Boys and Janine!” 

“Yes and Janine,” You rolled your eyes, “Come on we bet tickets to the next Eagles came that my sister got at work.”

“For the Eagles I will do anything,” Melissa smiled quickly shedding of her pool cover and jumping in the pool. 

Barb smiled from the sidelines, winking to Ava their plan was working. 

With Barb roped into being the referee the heated game of volleyball lasted about an hour with your team coming out victorious. You turned around and gave Ada a huge high five before turning to Melissa. You raised your arms but instead, Melissa pulled you in close, placing a kiss to your lips. 

It took your breath away to feel her pressed up against you, hands wrapped into your hair. The kiss was timid at first until you reciprocated the kiss and then all bets were off.  You wrapped your arms tight around her until the cheering started. 

The kiss was broken leaving you breathless and you looked at your coworkers all letting out loud whoops. Your face turned a bright red but Melissa still kept her arms around you in a hug.

“What ya looking at you pervs?” Melissa barked, making everyone laugh and lightening your embarrassment.

“Two people who finally got over themselves and decided to reveal their feelings for each other,” Ava laughed, “Now get a room or something. We don’t need Barb to have to go to confessional over y’all fucking in the pool.”

You and Melissa flipped her off simultaneously, making you laugh again. This woman, with her red hair plastered around the curves of the face you had spent hours memorizing. Blue eyes sparkled down at you and you knew that you could get lost into them forever. 

“What do you say Y/N, me and you on a real date tomorrow night. I’ll cook you dinner and the whole nine yards.” 

You grinned giving her another small kiss, “Sounds wonderful.”

The rest of the day Melissa kept close by placing small kisses on whatever exposed skin she could find. She held your hand while talking to Barbra and made you a plate of food before making sure that you sat down at the table next to her. 

“Yo Red!” Ava yelled, sliding into the seat next to you, “You understand she was my girl first, right. I still get first dibs on where we sit at lunch.”

“Yeah whatever Ava,” Melissa said before kissing your cheek, “We all know you don’t like sharing.”

“Neither do you,” Ava retorted, “Yet Y/N is the only one you let steal your food every day.”

You paused with a piece of Melissa’s cannoli in your grasp, “Not even Barb.”

“No hun, I left that pleasure for you only.”

“Fuck,” You whispered, “Really should have seen the signs.”

Melissa laughed squeezing your hand, “And I should have had the balls to tell you sooner.”

[evie-sturns]

Truth or Dare - Matt Sturniolo

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summary: an innocent game of truth or dare results in you losing your virginity to matt.

warnings: NSFW, swearing.

--------------------------°°••....••°°--------------------

"mattt.." i groan as my head rests on his lap. "you alright baby?" matt says quietly as he puts down his phone.

me and matt have been together for about 2 months, but we've never done anything sexually, ive never done anything sexually. im a total virgin and matt doesnt know.

"we should do something" i say sitting up on the couch and readjusting my ponytail. "like what?" matt says softly as he stands up "likee... truth or dare?" i say giggling and matt smiles at me "what are we, in 6th grade" matt says with a small laugh.

i stand up and drag matt to the bedroom, shutting the door behind us. matt sits down on the bed and i instantly crawl onto his lap, straddling him. "okay hmf, truth or dare?" i ask smiling and matt grins at me "truth? i dont know." he replies awkwardly "have you ever done anything illegal?" i say smirking and he doesn't reply. "matt..." i say dragging out the 'a' trying to hold back another laugh.

after a few rounds, matt starts to shift uncomfortably under me. i reposition myself on his lap and he groans "are you okay? am i too heavy sorry.." i say awkwardly "no- no..you just might need to get off" matt mumbles as i see his cheeks flush.

i realise whats happening, matts bulge is poking my ass. as soon i realise i jump off him and cover my face out of embarrassment. my grabs my wrists and pulls my hands off my eyes. my cheeks go a deep red and he smiles at me, i see his eyes flick down to my lips and i smash my lips into his. he grabs my waist and pulls me back onto his lap. he breaks for a second and grabs the hem of my shirt. "ca-can i?" matt asks and i dont fully understand what he means, but i agree to it. he pulls my shirt over my head, revealing my pink lacy bra. my eyes widen but i ignore it.

is this really happening? am i even ready? am i about to loose my virginity?

i go along with it, ill be fine. he unclasps my bra and his cheeks and the tips of his ears go pink. he is the first man to ever see my chest. he flips us over so im on my back, he looks down at me and puls down my shorts slowly, revealing my matching panties. "fuck your so perfect." matt grumbles. hes fully clothed but im only wearing my panties, its somewhat humiliating. he quickly pulls down his sweatpants and his dick springs out onto his stomach, its big. jesus christ its big.

he pulls my panties off and rubs his tip against my clit. he teases my entrance and my breathing becomes more frantic, why am i so scared? i feel a few tears roll down my cheek and matt gasps looking at me, insantly pulling away from me and yanking up his sweatpants. "hey, hey, are you okay?" he says shakily grabbing my cheek "sorry." i sniffle as i wipe my eyes. matt sits down on the bed and i sit up, he maintains a distance "dont cry, im so sorry can you talk to me please, whats going on sweetheart" he says gently and fidgets with his rings. i shuffle over and sit on his lap. his breath hitches in his throat as my naked body leans against him, but he plays it off as a cough. "just promise you wont judge me okay?" i say breaking the silence and he stambles "i would never judge you sweetheart." he says soothingly

"i know i havent told you but im a.. uh.. virgin." i whisper out and he nods understandingly "but i thought i was ready.. its not your fault i- i just uh. when you took your pants off it was.." i say quietly as i wipe my eyes "its big.. your dick is really big." i say with an embarrassed giggle. he just smiles at me "im sorry for taking it fast, i would've gone slow if i knew, your just so pretty i assumed youd done it." he says comforting me and rubbing my thighs "i wanna do it still though." i say quietly and he nods "o-okay!!" he says trying to hold back his excitement "do you wanna ask me questions before we start" he asks "well i did wanna know uhm, how many people have you fucked." i say softly "3 people, yeah uh.. three." he says i let out a sigh of relief "so your good at it??" i reply instantly and matt laughs rubbing his eyes "i guess?" he says embarrased and i get off his lap.

"can you talk me through it?" i ask laying back on the bed "yeah, okay sure!" he says positioning himself between my legs "im gonna have to stretch you out a little first okay? i dont want it to hurt." he says and i nod "just my middle finger, have you ever done this to yourself?" i shake my head "no.." and he just nods "okay thats fine!" he says "just relax okay." he says pushing his long middle finger all the way into me "your doing so good." he growls quietly thrusting it slowly in and out. "i'm gonna add another finger, and your gonna take it really well." he says pushing another finger into me.

this is a really new sensation, but it feels really good. it kind of burns though.

after a few minutes of him spreading his fingers apart inside of me he pulls both of his fingers out and i whine "baby your gonna get my cock, be patient." he says sternly and i nod quickly. he positions his tip at my entrance and i moan softly "such pretty noises." he mumbles as he pushes his tip just inside of me and pulls it back out, then pushes it in again. "so fucking tight oh my god." he whimpers as he pushes slightly more into me "im just gonna give you half okay?" he says sliding further into me and i let out a long moan. "its okay baby, hold my hand" he says reaching his hand out and gripping my sweaty palm.

"your only taking half, do you think you can take the rest of it?" he whispers in my ear "yeah- yes matt.." i say nervously and he slides all the way in, his tip kissing my cervix "so good for me baby." he says resting inside of me "so so perfect." he groans as he slides all the way out to his tip, then pushes all the way inside me again. "fuck.." he whimpers as he starts to thrust in and out faster "matt oh my god." i moan as he presses on my lower stomach with his free hand, so he can feel how deep he is inside of me. the stomach bulge is clear and its driving matt crazy. "your clenching baby, cum for me." he whispers "i- i dont know how to!!" i say loudly and he shushes me "yes you do, i know you can." he stays calm and i let out a loud moan before orgasming all over his length "goodd... fuck oh my fuck.. so good baby so so perfect." he whispers words of affirmation in my ears before abrubtly pulling out and cumming all over my tits "fuck fuck fuck.." he says quickly as he strokes his dick a few final times before collapsing next to me and grabbing my waist to pull me into a tight hug on the bed. "you did so well. so so well." he says in between heavy pants as my legs just shake.

"your legs are shaking, you sure your okay?"

"i-i just..." i can barely string together a sentence as my hole aches.

-------------------------°°••....••°°------------------

yall BETTER send me requests in my inbox PLEASE!!

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 57 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley gets home in time to take care of you when you need him the most, and he's ready to push aside his own exhaustion to let Noah celebrate Halloween. Announcements and plans are made, including some that you're looking forward to a lot more than Bradley is.

Warnings: pregnancy topics, mentions of miscarriage, swearing, smutty blowjob, angst, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

When Noah woke up on Halloween, he made his way into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes as he went. Then he stopped short next to the table. "Daddy?"

Bradley spun around to see his son standing there in disbelief. "Hey, Bub," he said as a smile bloomed across his face. "I missed you." He knelt down, and Noah immediately trotted across the room and right into his open arms. "I made it back just in time to go trick-or-treating with you."

He kissed Noah's cheek and buried his nose in his son's soft curls, inhaling the scent of home. "We're all going to go," Noah said with conviction. "Even Skittles has a costume. And Aunt Natasha is going to get one, too. She promised."

"Then I guess it will be a party," Bradley told him, deciding now wasn't the best time to mention that you may rather spend the evening in bed. "Are you hungry?" he asked, standing up with his son in his arms, simply because he wasn't ready to stop holding him. "Do you want pancakes?"

Bradley knew it was bad when a four year old looked at you like he was convinced anything you tried to cook would be inedible. "Can Mommy make them?"

"Wow," Bradley said, trying not to laugh. He was pretty convinced five minutes ago that he'd be able to follow the directions on the box, but maybe not. "Do you really think Mommy is that much better at cooking than I am?"

"Yes. She is. Can she make the pancakes?"

Bradley laughed and kissed his cheek again. "How about I give it the old college try since Mommy is still sleeping, okay?" He held Noah while he measured out the water, but when it was time to crack an egg, he set him down at the table with a glass of milk and an activity book that you or Nat must have got for him. He looked at the egg, not quite trusting himself, and he cracked it into a bowl instead directly into the pancake mix. He ended up picking pieces of the shell out of the bowl, but once he started to stir everything together, it looked pretty damn good. 

"Okay," he muttered, wondering if you'd want to eat breakfast in bed if he managed to pull this off. He should order one of those tray tables for you to use. He dumped some of the batter into the hot pan and started to look online for a purple tray when he got a little distracted. 

"Daddy," Noah said, pointing to the stove as soon as Bradley smelled the pancake starting to burn.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, setting his finally fully charged phone aside. "It's okay, I'll eat this one," he promised, flipping it over with a spatula to reveal a blackened, smoking mess. Now he paid close attention to what he was doing, and the next ones turned out pretty well, but it was too late.

"What did you burn?" you asked from the doorway with a smile. When Bradley tossed the spatula aside and rushed to your side, you said, "For a minute there, I thought it was all a dream, and that you weren't really home yet at all. But then I smelled something burning and knew you must be."

He wrapped one arm around your waist, tilted your chin up with his fingers and kissed you, hoping to convey just how badly he had missed you. He didn't stop until Noah asked, "Mommy, can you make the pancakes?"

"Let's let Mommy rest," Bradley replied, stroking your neck with his fingertips. "Do you want me to bring a plate of food into the bedroom?" he asked you.

You shook your head and whispered, "I'm okay. I might take a nap later, but I'm fine, Daddy." Then you took his hand gently in yours and brought it to rest on your belly. "So is this little one."

"I wouldn't have blamed you," he blurted out, and you tucked your face against his chest. As your arms snaked around his waist, he said, "I would have been sad, but only because I'm so excited for the baby. But I wouldn't have blamed you or been upset with you, Princess."

You nodded and whispered, "I know. It was so scary though. And I don't think I could have gone much longer without you here."

"I'm home. And I'm cooking and doing everything. You've got nothing to worry about."

"Mommy, please," came Noah's exasperated voice. "The pancakes."

You started laughing against Bradley. "Do you want dinosaur pancakes?" you asked, and Noah gasped in delight. "I'll take that as a yes. Step aside, Daddy. Watch and learn."

But he didn't step aside. He stood behind you with his chin resting on your shoulder and told you over and over again how much he loved you while you prepared the most adorable breakfast he'd ever seen in his life. You cut up a pancake to look like a stegosaurus body and added spikes made out of sliced strawberries. You used part of a banana as the neck, and added chocolate chips as eyes. 

"Damn," Bradley said. "That's almost as cute as you are. Can I have one, too?" Then you cut up the burned pancake and made a much less cute looking dinosaur while he laughed the whole time. "Thanks. That's exactly how I wanted it."

"You're welcome," you told him with a smirk as you took some of the good pancakes for yourself. He guided you over to the table with all of the plates of breakfast, and Noah abandoned his book while he clapped his hands.

"Thank you, Mommy," he said as he shoved some strawberries into his mouth.

Then Bradley guided you down onto his lap and held you while you ate. "It's good to be home. When you're done eating, I want you to get back in bed and wait for me," he whispered, tracing your side gently with his fingers while he stuck his fork into his burnt dinosaur pancake.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you said softly. "We can't do that. Not for a few more weeks. The doctors said my uterus has to thicken a bit more, and I-"

"Baby," Bradley said a little louder. "No. Don't apologize. I don't care about that. I want you to rest, but I also want to show you the books I bought in Tokyo."

You looked at him over your shoulder, and he kissed your cheek. "I want you to know that I did miss you that way, too."

"I missed you in every way imaginable, Princess."

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

Bradley ended up carefully carrying you to bed as you yawned, and he promised to clean up the kitchen and get things ready for Halloween.

"I want you to relax," he said for at least the tenth time as he dug around in his still unpacked duffle bag. "I'll take Noah out to buy some pumpkins in a little bit, and I'll leave you a sandwich in the fridge that you can eat when you want it. But in the meantime, look how cool these are."

He sat on the edge of the bed next to your thigh and handed you a stack of Japanese children's books. You smiled and looked at the covers. They ranged from some meant for a baby to ones that Noah would be interested in when he started school. "You were really thinking about your family the whole time, huh?"

"Every second I was gone," he promised, leaning down to kiss you. He would take care of everything, and Nat promised she'd come back later, and you really did almost feel like you could relax. But you still felt a little guilty even as he ran his lips and mustache along your cheek to your ear and whispered your name.

"You must be exhausted and jetlagged," you told him. "You're the one who should be resting."

He just shook his head, kissed you one more time and said, "I'll call Nat if I need her. Otherwise, I'm perfect because I'm with you. Rest."

Then he was gone, and you drifted off into the kind of beautiful sleep where you didn't have to worry about what time it was or when Noah needed to eat again. When you woke up after noon to a completely silent house, you ate your sandwich and then went right back to bed. Eventually Noah's laughter and the warm afternoon light that seemed impossible to sleep through had you out of bed again, but when you looked around the house, you didn't see anyone. The back door was open, and when you went into the kitchen, you saw Bradley and Noah carving pumpkins on the deck.

You walked outside in the random clothing you'd been sleeping in, and as soon as the sun hit your face, you didn't feel as exhausted anymore. "Mommy's up!" Noah cheered, jumping up to hug you with his slimy, orange hands. 

"Don't touch her until you wash your hands, Bub," Bradley called out with a grimace. "Too late."

"It's okay," you told him, kissing the top of Noah's head. "Are you happy Daddy made it home in time for Halloween?"

He looked up at you with a little crease along his brow. "I knew he would. That's why we bought him a costume."

"Speaking of which," Bradley said as he kissed your cheek without putting his messy hands on you, "it's almost time to get changed to go collect candy."

"And ride in the wagon!" Noah exclaimed.

"What wagon?" you asked.

"You'll see," Bradley replied with a little smirk. 

After a leisurely shower during which you didn't have to worry about anything except yourself, you dressed in your princess costume that you and Noah picked out from the Halloween warehouse and put on some makeup. Then you added your brand new crown, and you thought you looked pretty incredible. When you walked out to the living room and saw Noah dressed as a little prince, your heart melted. 

"Sweet Noah," you gushed as he held onto his treat bag, all ready to go. He was wearing his yellow paper crown that Bradley managed to procure from some unknown spot in the house, and he just looked precious. 

"I like your crown, Mommy," he said, pointing to the gold one you were wearing.

You smiled. "I like my purple paper crown better."

"Don't laugh." You turned to see Bradley standing behind you in his rather ill fitting knight costume. It kind of looked like he was wearing aluminum foil that was a size too small, but he had a smile on his face, and his costume crinkled when you hugged him. "Hey, Mav and Penny are planning to stop by to take some photos with Noah, but if you want me to call them back and tell them we just want a quiet evening, I can do that."

You shook your head against his crunchy costume as you laughed. "We should tell them about the baby when they get here."

"Yeah?" he asked excitedly. "You want to?"

"I mean, Nat and Javy know. Dr. Kelly knows. I think Mav and Penny should know now, too."

"I love this idea," he whispered, letting his fingers gently glide along the front of your dress. "You're feeling better now?"

You nodded, but Noah didn't really let you answer before he started clapping as he looked out the front door. "Aunt Natasha is back!" 

She walked in dressed as a jester and picked Noah up to give him a kiss. A minute later, Maverick, Penny and Amelia were all there as well, and phones were being passed around along with Noah, because everyone wanted their picture with the tiny prince. 

"Okay, let me take one of everyone in front of the pumpkins on the porch," Bradley said as he collected a few phones in his hands and headed outside. He smirked at you as he added, "Everyone needs to squeeze together a little bit more. Make sure both of my kids are in there."

"Both?" Penny asked before she gasped, and the first photo Bradley took was of her turning to look at you with wide eyes. "Both?!"

"I'm pregnant," you announced with a smile, and the second photo Bradley took was of everyone else with wide eyes, too. And he snapped a few more where Nat was holding Noah with a grin on her face while the others all hugged you.

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

After a brief argument on your end, Bradley managed to get you and Noah both settled into the oversized wagon he bought earlier this afternoon. Then he clipped Skittles' leash on before attaching her tiny crown to her head. "There we go. The royal family is now complete."

"Have fun!" Nat called out, waving from the front porch with the bowl of candy, already crowded with neighborhood kids looking for their treats. 

"I don't need to be pulled in a wagon all night," you protested as Bradley scoffed.

"What kind of knight would I be if I wasn't doting on the two of you." Skittles barked, so he added, "I meant the three of you."

"Four," you said, pointing to your belly as he pulled the wagon down the driveway. 

"My point is," he said loudly, "I will be doting on my entire family all night long, and there's nothing you can do about it. Please keep your arms and legs inside the royal carriage until we come to a complete stop."

He very dutifully pulled up to each house before lifting Noah out and taking him up to collect his piece of candy. Bradley got the chance to enjoy so many of his neighbors telling him how sweet his son looked, and he kept reminding Noah to say thank you. After about an hour, two treat bags had been filled up with candy, and you looked like you were having fun. You even started waving from the wagon at everyone you passed like a real princess would.

"This is really fun," you said, holding on to Noah as Bradley turned another corner. 

"I love Halloween!" his son shouted. 

Truthfully, it was a bit of a challenge for Bradley to pull the wagon, keep Skittles from barking at the other kids, and take Noah up to each house and back, but he wasn't about to complain. Not after everything you'd done and been through while he was in Japan. But he would sleep well tonight. That was a given. 

"I think this was the last house," Bradley said, stifling his own yawn. "Feel like chatting about our wedding on the way back home?" he asked as Noah yawned as well and settled down in the wagon with you.

It was hard to read your face in the darkness. "What do you want to chat about?" you asked softly.

"How soon will you let me marry you?"

You laughed and said, "How soon do you want to get married?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Hmm," you hummed. "Seems like that would be short notice for wedding guests."

"We don't need wedding guests," he said, and he meant it. "You still want to use our backyard?"

"Yes."

Bradley slowed down over a particularly uneven part of the sidewalk. "Are you still set on Valentine's Day?  Because I'm thinking Christmas."

"Christmas?" you repeated. "Like less than two months from now?"

Bradley pulled the wagon up the driveway past the Bronco, and of course Noah was sound asleep. As soon as he scooped his son off of your lap, Nat came rushing over from her seat on the porch. "I can get him changed and put him in bed."

He didn't argue with her, rather he handed Noah off and focused on helping you out of the wagon. "Yeah. Less than two months from now. I keep thinking about how you threw me a Christmas in July birthday party. We could have a Christmas wedding, too. And after that, we can start the adoption process."

You moaned his name as he took your hand and headed for the house. "You know the way to my heart is through Noah."

He straightened out your crown, still rather fond of your purple one which was sitting safely on his dresser. "Is that a yes?" he whispered, kissing you softly while a few remaining kids ran down the sidewalk laughing. "We can make it official? And I can take care of you forever?"

"Yes."

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

Bradley helped you out of your princess costume after he stripped out of his knight costume, and his lips met the bare skin of your shoulder immediately. "I love you," he murmured, taking you by the hand and leading you toward the bed. But it didn't feel sexual. You knew that wasn't why he was being exceptionally wonderful right now.

"I love you, too."

His forehead came to rest against yours, and his hands were so gentle on your hips. "I'm just relieved to be home. And I'm sorry I wasn't here last week. If something worse had happened to you while I was gone, when you really needed me, I don't know what I would have done."

"We're all okay," you whispered, pushing him until he was sitting down on the bed looking up at you. "And I feel a lot better since I've been resting more." Your skin felt warm and tingly as he kissed you. Six weeks was a long time, and you knew Bradley hadn't even had access to all of the photos and videos on his phone to keep him company. And you did want it to feel sexual, because you missed every bit of him.

"Lay back on your pillow and wait for me," you told Bradley with a smile, using his words against him. 

He did as he was told and patted the spot next to him as he said, "Does that mean you're ready to snuggle with me?"

"Something like that, Daddy."

As soon as you licked your lips and reached for the front of his sweatpants, his eyes went wider. "No, Baby. You don't have to do that."

"I want to," you promised, pulling the fabric down to reveal his soft length. He still looked delicious even like this. You desperately wanted him in your mouth. You met his eyes and whispered, "Please?"

He was panting softly, the rise and fall of his chest so alluring even through his undershirt. He moaned your name and made a strangled sound before he reached for your hand. When he sat up slowly and kissed you gently, he placed your hand on his cock, and he immediately throbbed for you. 

As you rubbed your thumb down his length and along his balls, he grew harder. "You missed me touching you like this," you sang in a quiet voice, watching him as he watched your hand. When his eyes flitted back to your face he nodded. "Tell me you did, Bradley."

He swallowed hard, and his voice was so raspy, your hand faltered. "I missed you like this. I thought about your body when I touched myself, but my hands aren't as soft and perfect as yours."

"Daddy," you whimpered, leaning down to kiss away his precum before taking him between your lips.

But he continued on as you sucked, driving you as wild as you were driving him. "I thought about you with a pregnant belly. I thought about how much I'm going to love fucking you when you're big and round. Big because of my baby."

You took him deep, letting him tap the back of your throat as you saw stars along your vision. "Fuck! Princess! I'm not even gonna last."

Slowly, you let your lips glide back up his length, sucking all the way to his tip. "Then just go ahead and come, Daddy. I want you to."

When he collapsed back against the pillow and tucked one arm beneath his head, you took him deep again. He wasn't kidding, because you could see the veins in his neck as his face grew pink, and you knew he was already close. You didn't rush him along, but you bobbed to a pace that left him grabbing at the bedding with his free hand.

"Baby!" he whined, rolling his hips up until you were starting to gag, and then he came. You were sputtering, swallowing him down as quickly as you could as your name fell from his lips over and over again. "Come up here," he demanded, and when you crawled toward him as you licked your lips clean, he gathered you carefully in his arms.

You never felt as loved as you did when you were with him. His body was perfectly warm and everything you had been missing. His voice calmed every part of you. "December," he whispered as he played with your engagement ring. It took you a moment to realize what he meant as he kissed at your lips. "December. We'll get married. We'll all be Bradshaws. Me and you and Noah and the baby. That's all I need."

"And Skittles."

"Please. She's my best non-human friend. It's unspoken."

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

When Bradley promised to meet you at your lunchtime appointment with your obstetrician on Wednesday, you were a little skeptical. 

"Even if I have to flip off Admiral Simpson and tell him to go fuck himself, I will be there."

You had laughed at the time, but you should have known he wouldn't miss a chance to interrogate your doctor in his flight suit. He stood next to you as you were told to lie back on the table for a pelvic exam, and he kept his eyes on you through the uncomfortable experience, looking down at you like you were the best thing in the world. 

"Does she need another progesterone shot today?" he asked softly as you reached for his hand. "And are you going to monitor her with more appointments? And will we get to see an ultrasound?"

"Yes, yes, and yes." Your doctor looked at you and said, "We'll monitor you more closely even after you're done with the injections. We are going to consider you high risk."

"High risk?" you gasped. "That sounds very bad."

"It's not!" he insisted as he guided you to sit up a little bit. "It just means you and the baby get extra attention."

Bradley looked the doctor in the eye and said, "She wants to go to Disneyland for a day or two. Is that even okay?"

You were ready to pout and tell both of them that you felt fine now. There had been no more blood. You were getting plenty of rest. Then he said the words you'd been hoping to hear. "Disneyland would be fine. Just don't overdo it."

"Yes!" you cheered. "Noah will be so excited! Let's go for Thanksgiving!"

Bradley opened his mouth, and you could tell he wanted to protest, but your doctor started to spread gel on your belly, and then the baby was visible on the screen on the wall when the ultrasound started up. "Oh damn," Bradley whispered, suddenly mesmerized by what he saw as he gripped your hand tighter. "Look at the heartbeat. Look at the baby."

"Does he or she look healthy?" you asked, mesmerized as well.

"Very healthy, but we will keep a close eye on things."

When Bradley walked you back to your car which was parked next to the Bronco, you pulled him to a stop. You wrapped your arms around his waist, and your scrubs rubbed gently against his flight suit. "Will you please let me plan a few days at Disneyland?"

"Two days," he replied immediately, clearly already resigned to his fate. "And you have to stay hydrated. And if you even start to look tired, I'm going to push you around in a wheelchair. And if you say anything hurts, we're leaving immediately."

"Disney!" you practically screamed as you bobbed up and down in his grasp and kissed his cheek. "I can't wait to tell Noah! I'll see you at home later, Daddy."

"I'll pick Noah up along with dinner. When I get home you better have your feet up and a glass of water in your hand."

"I will," you promised, matching his serious expression with one of your own. "I'll be very careful. And I'll plan our little vacation. And you'll take exceptional care of everything else."

"You know I will."

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

We should all have a Bradley in our lives to let us rest and heal when we need to. That man is going to take care of everything and probably plan a wedding, too. Is Nat also going to Disneyland? Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 58

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[ddorizrem]

backflips in a restaurant | mark lee

006. 12065 — heart sank to my stomach

you giggled at the sight of your friends’ outburst of tweets before putting your phone down to face the man of the hour. mark lee. there he was just eating his ice cream in front of you, it was adorable really.

noticing your stare at him, he smiled, “what’s funny yn?” he asked before he went back to eating his ice cream

taking a lick of your own ice cream, you let out another smile, “nothing just my friends being stupid on my tweet,”

you two sat there in comfortable silence as you ate your ice creams before mark cleared his throat, “listen yn, i’ve been meaning to talk to you about something,” he spoke nervously

at this moment, you swore you felt your heart drop to your stomach. is this the moment you’ve been nervously anticipating? was it really all good to be true? your eyes widened and looked at mark, “um, yeah what’s up?” you responded with the same amount of nervousness in your system

mark put his ice cream down in the cup you had gotten for the two of you and gave you his undivided attention, “i don’t know how to exactly word it but i really do want you to know i enjoy spending time with you and i don’t know about you but, i really like us and where this is going,” he said with a smile at the end before looking up directly into your eyes, “but before we get any deeper into whatever ‘we’ might be i want to be honest with you,”

you put your ice cream down in the cup next to his and put your hand over mark’s twiddling thumbs, “of course mark, i want you to know i also like us and where this is going,”

reciprocating your move, mark decides to fully hold onto your hand, making you feel butterflies in your stomach, “it’s nothing bad i promise unless it’s bad to you then i’ll feel really bad but i hope you know i don’t want it to be bad,” he rambled before finally focusing on what he was gonna say, “as you know i am a music major, and i kinda have that semi successful youtube thing going on,”

you nodded as you rubbed your thumb on his hand to ease his nervousness, “well a couple weeks ago i got this offer to do this internship to produce, and it’s really amazing one of my biggest rolemodels got me this opportunity and the school was actually shocked anyone was able to acquire the internship,” he added

“oh my goodness mark that’s amazing! i’m so proud of you,” you responded

mark smiled at you, “thank you yn, it means a lot, but i should probably get to the bad part of the news,” he spoke softly, “um well, the internship is in new york, and i leave in a couple of days,”

oh. that’s why your heart sunk to your stomach

he saw the look in your face and grabbed your hands closer to him, “yn, i’m sorry but that’s why i wanted to be honest with you and say it now. i really enjoy spending time with you and i want to see where this goes. i want to pursue you but i want to leave this choice to you. it’s not fair that i have to be across the world for 10 weeks right before i meet the most amazing girl in my life,”

“when you say leave this choice to me, what do you mean by that?” you asked

“well personally, i don’t want to loose the connection we have and i really enjoy spending time with you. regardless of in person or not i want to make what we have work so i don’t mind the distance. but also if you want to just wait for me to come back and see if we still have that connection when we pick up from there, i’m also down for that,” mark replied while rubbing his thumb on your hand

you stare up at him and let out a sad smile, “i really appreciate your honesty mark, how about we just spend the rest of the day together and see how this goes? i’ll give you my answer soon i promise,”

mark smiled at you in return, taking in your beauty, “yeah of course yn, i’d wait forever for you,”

masterlist | previous | next

authors note: IM SORRYY GUYSSS this song is one of the most beautiful heart wrenching songs about yearning so chapter had to reflect </3 let me know if u guys think yn will decide to keep up the connection with mark or will she wait till he’s back in person?

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[broken-spirit101]

twelfth, again? PM!Dazai X Reader : the first meet — series

A/N: yes. i'm back to writing. not back to my requests, but i promise we'll get there. someday. but this sudden 12:14 AM rush hit me and i had to write this down.

perhaps a continuation might follow? :3 warnings: dazai is being dazai. chuuya is being chuuya.

it was the twelfth time you dreamt of that early evening again.

that day, twilight had just set. blue tones of the sky were setting into a pale yellow, nearly orange near the horizon. like a sunscape painting.

it was quiet. you were in your muted white dress. the casual type. the type that subtly flows down.

not attracting attention, but existing within its own quiet swish when the wind blows.

distant shouting—

ripping your attention from the book you were reading. instinctively raising your head, you spot a flash of orange. just nearby.

"oi! shitty dazai, those mushrooms aren't gonna help you die."

"isn't it worth trying?" came from an amused tone.

"we've got work to do, you asshole—"

"and we've got two hours. calm down, chew-ya."

"and eight people to ki—" the voice dropped, all of a sudden. quiet again, replaced by the low chirp of crickets once more.

suspicious. ki—? kick? kiss? kill?

seemed to be the last one from the silence...

"aaand?" the voices walked ahead, their figures coming into view fully. two boys, seeming to be teens, around your age. one tall, dark brown hair, in a white shirt, and the shorter one, a ginger, in a dark green hoodie. a bandage covered the former's right eye.

successfully ruining the silent solitude of the park. the susurrus of leaves no longer audible.

"where even is that fancy-ass hotel we're supposed to go to?"

"hmm... perhaps in neverland?"

a kick was swung at the brunette's knee, almost hitting him, had he not stepped left last minute.

"you've gotta polish your attacks, chuuya-kun—"

a fist swung at the skull this time. successfully connecting.

"hey! that's against the rules!" the brunette shouted, massaging his head with his right hand. "a dog doesn't attack its own master!"

"oh? want me to test that again?"

"anyways, the hotel!"

the ginger almost seemed murderous. typical of someone with his hair color. "reply to me, mackerel—"

"there's nobody nearby who can help us with the directions..." the brunette—named dazai/asshole/mackerel, judging by the conversation—looked around, shielding his eyes with his hand on his forehead, despite the absence of sunlight.

but you were in plain sight.

"...may i help you?" you got up from the bench, setting aside your book for the time being.

"oh, my, a pretty girl—" the brunette named dazai/asshole/mackerel gasped. "may you help me by giving me your name?"

you looked at him, unimpressed. "[name]."

"such a pretty name," his mouth twisted into a half-smirk, half-smile.

"you'll make me gag, you fucker." chuuya.

he ignored him.

"well... may i have yours?" you asked dazai/asshole/mackerel/you fucker.

"why, it's dazai osamu."

"dazai. the hotel's the second building on the first turn by the main street."

"ooh, were you listening in to our conversation?" he gave a sly smile.

"i couldn't help not to with your loud voices."

"his," said the ginger, rolling his eyes. "his. voice."

"i think yours was louder, honestly," you responded.

dazai clicked his tongue. "that's chuuya. don't mind him. he doesn't know how to talk to pretty girls."

"i'm charmed, dazai, but i think i should—"

"is that crime and punishment you're reading?" his eyes drifted to the book on the bench you'd set aside, taking it in his hand. "that's quite advanced for your age, isn't it?"

"it's... for a school project," you lied.

"is that so? i suppose you're done with reading it. i'd love to borrow it!"

the ginger cringed. "what the actual he—"

"we'll get going, then!" he said before you could react, grabbing the ginger's wrist, starting to walk away.

"but when will you—" you tried to speak, but were cut off.

"soon!"

he didn't look back as he walked away.

you didn't know if you were ever getting it back.

he met you outside the school gates a week later.

"y'know, the annotations gave away your lie by the first page."

"thought so, but i never thought i'd see this book again," you mumbled, inspecting the book. it was partially soaked in orange juice.

that was not the last time you saw him, unlike what you thought.

you woke up again.

Next: entangled—how? PM!Dazai X Reader

[tickly-trashcan]

Rebuilding {Optimus Prime and Megatron}

A/N: GAAH I couldn't decide which continuity this was HAHA I've only watched tfone and tfp so far hehe so we can say this is a way later version of tfone maybe?? yeahhh tfone sounds good... i literally wrote this last night and finished it this morning bc Optimus was on my MINDDD i could not get him out so i decided to torment him instead! there is also def some hinted megaop but i didnt want to fully commit to it haha but its def megaop bc im trash ANYWAYS ENJOY

Summary: Megatron and Optimus Prime are finally working together again to rebuild Cybertron. However, Optimus is a little bit distracted by something, and it is slowly beginning to annoy Megatron.

Word Count: 1.7k (under the cut!)

“Prime, are you listening to me?” Megatron asked, putting a hand on his hip as Optimus Prime stared out the window of the ship.

“Hmm? Oh– Yes, I am,” Optimus replied quietly as he turned to face Megatron, still zoned out.

Megatron narrowed his optics at Optimus, but continued regardless. “As I was saying, now that we’re rebuilding, I think we should initially focus on– Prime.”

Optimus continued to stare out the window, not noticing Megatron. He soon picked up on the fact that Megatron was no longer talking and looked at him again, his finials dipping slightly as he became aware of Megatron’s annoyance.

“I– Sorry… My mind is in a lot of places…”

“It should be here. I’m not going to waste my breath talking if you aren’t going to listen.”

Optimus nodded, quickly glancing out the window once more before turning back to Megatron. “I’m sorry, you’re right. It’s just– It doesn’t feel real.”

Megatron raised his optical ridge. “What doesn’t? The fact that our war has finally ended, or the fact that we’re going to rebuild Cybertron?”

Optimus shook his helm and then chuckled. “Well, I suppose both of those don’t quite feel real either… But I was talking about you.”

Megatron hesitantly took the seat next to Optimus, waiting to see if he would shy away from him or if he would try to move. When he did neither, Megatron relaxed slightly into the seat, watching Optimus with earnestness as he waited for him to continue.

“It doesn’t feel real… finally being back with you. As friends, I mean…”

Optimus’ finials were dipping even more, as if Megatron’s silence was negating what he had said about their friendship.

Megatron sighed. “We used to be more than just friends, Prime. But… I will admit, it is strange having to rebuild more than just Cybertron.” Megatron leaned back, letting his arm settle across Optimus’ shoulders, making him stiffen. Megatron did not pull away. “We– I have so much more to rebuild. I have to rebuild myself, I have to rebuild your trust… I have to rebuild us.”

Optimus could not help when his finials perked up at Megatron mentioning the two of them. “I have plenty of rebuilding to do as well, Megatron. You won’t be the only one needing to rebuild things… And I promise I will be with you every step of the way.”

Megatron smiled at that. Optimus let himself relax in Megatron’s arm, his finials moving happily.

Megatron chuckled as he took notice of his dancing finials. “You never did change that habit, did you now? Even as a Prime, you’re still the same bot I knew all those cycles ago.”

Megatron traced Optimus’ finial gently, making him gasp sharply and flinch away from his touch. Optimus brought a servo up to his finial, his faceplate heating, and looked at Megatron with an embarrassed look on his face. Megatron did not move, as if he was afraid that he had hurt Optimus.

Optimus chuckled awkwardly, his laugh signifying that Megatron had not harmed him. “Sorry… My finials are– Well, they’re sensitive.”

Megatron nodded his helm slowly and looked down. A small grin began to creep up his face as he realized what Optimus had told him, however, and he turned his helm back to grin mischievously at Optimus.

“Prime…” Megatron started, looking at Optimus’ finials that were twitching slightly in anticipation of what was likely to come. “Can you tell me exactly what you mean by sensitive? If I recall, there was a certain… sensitivity that you had all those cycles ago, if I’m not mistaken.”

Optimus leaned back slightly, but did not have very much space to lean into. He was up against the window, the table in front of him, in the seat with Megatron beside him… There was nowhere he could go.

Optimus cleared his intake and sat up a bit, trying to hide his growing nervousness. “They’re just… a bit ticklish, is all. Now, what were you saying earlier about rebuilding?”

Megatron nodded his helm slowly and drew his servo up close to his face, as if he were inspecting his digits. “Ah, yes, rebuilding… We must begin by rebuilding Cybertron, and I think that we should begin by focusing on supplying energon.”

Optimus relaxed a bit, thinking that he had successfully diverted Megatron’s attention. Optimus felt Megatron’s arm shift behind him, but thought nothing of it until he felt another gentle swipe to his finial, making him jolt and gasp.

“Megatron!”

“Are you still not listening to me, Prime? I already told you, I’m not going to talk if you won’t listen.”

Despite his tone, Megatron has a sly grin on his face. Optimus knew he was messing with him, and he would not rise to the bait. Optimus folded his arms and leaned back in the seat, into Megatron’s arm, and motioned for him to continue.

As Megatron talked, Optimus did his best to listen, but the way Megatron would gesture with his servo made him constantly anticipate another ticklish sensation on his finial. He could not see Megatron’s other servo, so he did not know when he would do it, and it made it so much more difficult to retain what Megatron was saying.

Suddenly, there was another touch to his finial, but it did not go away after just one swipe. Optimus flinched at the initial touch, then began to fight back shaky giggles as the touch continued, light and ticklish. Megatron toyed with his finial gently, tracing up and down while Optimus shook with contained laughter.

Megatron raised his optical ridge. “Is something the matter, Prime?”

“N-noho…” Optimus barely managed to get out.

Megatron hummed. “Then would you mind repeating what I was just talking about? Paraphrase if you must…”

Optimus fidgeted slightly, trying to remember, but Megatron’s digit was still toying with his finial and Primus it tickled so bad and he could not recall any bit of what Megatron had said. Optimus let out a shaky breath and swatted Megatron’s servo away.

“I cahan’t– I can’t seem to recall,” Optimus said softly.

Megatron sighed, loudly and almost dramatically. “You are a truly terrible listener, Prime.”

Optimus huffed. He knew that Megatron was teasing him, but there was some part of him that was enjoying it. It felt like old times, and it made Optimus feel a strange sense of comfort. “Well, I wouldn’t be as distracted if someone wasn’t tickling me every five seconds.”

Megatron did not bother hiding his grin at this point. “Oh? Are you suggesting that I’m the cause of your distraction? Prime, I thought we were rebuilding our trust.”

Optimus rolled his optics and shook his helm. He was about to say something back, but Megatron was back to tickling his finial, cutting Optimus off as he fought back a laugh.

“Are you laughing at me now?”

“You’re tickling mehehe!”

“Am I now? I didn’t notice…” Megatron drawled, teasing Optimus’ finial with two digits as Optimus shook while trying to contain his giggles. “Hmm… I can’t help but wonder if you’re still as ticklish elsewhere…”

“Mehegatron, don’t you dahare–!”

Optimus hardly had a chance to do anything before Megatron was on him, prodding and scribbling his digits along Optimus’ chassis as he fell back in the seat, laughter almost instantly bubbling from his intake.

“Mehehehgatron! Nohoho, not thehehere!!” Optimus wailed, trying to push Megatron’s servos away from his hips.

Megatron laughed with Optimus, amused that his old friend was still just as ticklish as he remembered. “You really haven’t changed at all, have you?”

“Why wohohould I chahahange– WAhahaaa! Mehegatron, plehehease! Not thehehere!!”

Optimus was sent into a fit of frantic laughter when Megatron’s servos managed to creep up under his arms, finding the seams that he recalled drove Optimus up the wall. Megatron’s memory served him well, and he was met with the exact reaction he had anticipated as Optimus clamped his arms down as much as he could and kicked his pedes behind him.

“This is still your best spot, isn’t it? Although, I never knew about your finials back then… Maybe we should compare?”

“Mahahaybe we– Maybe we shohohouldn’t!!” Optimus wheezed, shaking his helm in an attempt to keep Megatron’s servos away. It worked slightly, but Megatron did still get a few swipes at his finials, making Optimus squeak whenever his digits made contact with them.

After a few more attempts, Megatron eventually retreated his servos back to the seams under Optimus’ arms, making him throw his helm back and laugh. He squeezed his optics shut, squirming uselessly beneath Megatron as he laughed.

Optimus gasped sharply when Megatron pulled one of his arms above him. Optimus shook his helm, his optics wide as he kept giggling.

Megatron grinned deviously. “Finials or seams?”

Optimus blinked. “Whahahat?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself again, Prime.” Optimus tried to tug his arm away and Megatron hummed. “Finials it is, then.”

“No!”

“No? Then you’d prefer the seams?”

Optimus stammered, his words coming out like static as he tried to form a coherent sentence. “I– No, I mean– Well–”

“If you don’t choose, I’ll choose for you…”

“I can’t choose!” Optimus nearly whined, shaking his helm.

Megatron raised his optical ridge and smirked. “You can’t, hmm? Well, then…” He leaned forward until he was just a few inches from Optimus’ face, making him giggle nervously. Megatron had a sly smirk on his face as he contemplated. “I think I’ll choose… both.”

“What–!”

Optimus could barely register what Megatron was planning before it was too late. He quickly dissolved into more bubbly laughter when Megatron skittered his digits along the seams under his arms, then gasped when he felt Megatron toy with his finials. He went back and forth, never letting Optimus fully get used to either sensation, and it made him a frantic, laughing mess by the time Megatron finally decided to let up.

“Y-you… That was– Ugh…” Optimus could not even formulate a proper insult or claim or anything. All that he ended up with was a few residual giggles and a tingly sensation that would not leave his seams or his finials as Megatron sat up.

“Fun? For me, it was indeed fun… I missed you, Orion.”

Optimus’ finials perked up at his old name. He had not been called that in so long, not ever since…

“I missed you too, Dee.”

Megatron smiled softly and held up his servo for Optimus, who sat up and hit it with his own. As soon as Optimus had seemingly recovered, Megatron continued his plan, and this time, Optimus found his mind could not wander to any thought other than the bot right in front of him.

[slvtforfiction]

Jake smut but with a super innocent reader. And he explains in kinda to her and she turns her stuffed animals so they’re facing away before it n stuff 🥹🥹

Little Sweetheart

☆ ANON STOPPPPP

☆ OMG LOTS OF LOVE SWEETIE 💜

☆ Jake Webber X Virgin!Reader

☆ Smut (porn w no plot?)

☆ Sorry it’s so short :( x

☆ Masterlist

☆ Hey guys! Before anything else I would ask you to request anything you want because I've lost a lot of motivation and it would really help! :D (Please look at pinned post to see if requests are open.)

☆ Creds to @cafekitsune for dividers :)

I rolled over in bed next to Jake and rested my head on his chest as he kissed my forehead,waking up.

“Hey sweetheart.” He said smiling as he rested his head back letting out a low groan. “Hi.” I smiled up at him.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him looking up at him from his chest. “Nothing baby,just gonna have a shower.” He said getting up and stretching his arms.

My head just peaked out of the covers but I could see his boxers larger than normal.

“Do you want help with that?” I asked him whilst looking up at him,doe eyes. He smiled at me sitting on the edge of the bed.

“You sure love? You only choose one person to give your virginity to.” He said to me and I sat up in bed.

“I promise.” I told him as I smiled up at him, we had been dating for around 4 months and he had known of my virginity before we had started dating.

I was always ready when I was with him. “Yeah?” He asked affirming my decision, “Yeah,I want it to be you.” I whispered and he smile walking over to me and back into bed.

I pulled down my panties,leaving my shirt and looked at him expectantly,with a smile he told me to come sit in his thighs for a moment after taking his boxers down.

I looked over at my studies and saw them staring back at me,I quickly turned them around and Jake laughed softly to himself.

“I’ll walk you through it,okay?” He says and I nod, “Words princess.” He says and I smile, “Okay.”

He puts his hands on my waist,lifting me up with ease,and I can feel the tip of his cock against my entrance. “I’ll go slow okay?” He says and I nod.

He lowers me down and the first few inches feel uncomfortable but not harmful,until he got further.

“Jake it hurts!” I say and he quickly stops lowering me, “Tell me when it feels better and we’ll keep going.” He says softly and I nod as I sit there,half way down him.

“You okay baby?” He asks and I make a small nod,we repeat this a few times before I get used to the feeling and reply with “You can keep going now.” In a faint whisper.

He slowly lowers me further until he’s fully inside of me, “You can start whenever you want to,okay? I’ll let you do it so you can pick the pace,all you need to do is bounce up and down,when you get tired let me know and I’ll help you,okay?” He asks and I nod as I began to slowly bounce up and down.

The feeling is pleasurable and I quickly start moaning,the feeling of Jake’s hand on my waist only egging me on. I begin to go faster,still slow but getting used to the feeling.

“You okay princess?” He asks with a grunt in between, “Am I going too slow?” I ask worriedly and he laughs softly, “No love,take your time,it’s okay.” He reassures and I smile as I get faster. “Jake!” I moan as I pick up pace.

“That’s it baby.” He says proudly as my pace stabilises at a fast speed. Jake began to grunt and moan,pushing me further into a tight knot in my stomach.

“Jake! Jake!” I all but scream out as the knot in my stomach releases and I collapse against his chest, desperately trying to keep my pace to make him finish too. Soon enough I feel my insides painted and warm and I lie on Jake’s chest as I pant out like a dog.

I felt his cock soften inside of me and I he lifted me off his cock and kept me lying against his chest. “Thank you love.” He says,kissing my forehead.

I smile and plant a small kiss to his chest with the energy I have left as I wrap my arms around him. “Such a good girl for me.” He says whispering small praise towards me.

“I love you.” I whisper before falling into sleep,quick enough not to hear the response from him,though I knew he said he loved me back.

[gingerteawrites]

BY THE HEARTH: ARC

A/N: Did I say I was going to be back in a week? yeah.... that didn't happen. I can't even justify such a long absence, I am just so sorry. Disregarding my inconsistent posting schedule though, I was so so happy to read all of your comments on the previous chapter. We're finally there folks! I am excited to explore the king and queen's future dynamics now that they finally opened up hehe. As always thank you for all your messages and love on this series, it truly makes my days. I hope you have a wonderful rest of your week. Kisses.

Read previous part here

Content: Royalty!AU, Nanami x female reader, king Nanami, Princess Y/N, Widower Nanami, Toddler Yuuji, hurt, angst. Not beta read

Word count: ~3K

Banner by: @cafekitsune

ACT XII

Nanami could hardly believe everything that had transpired between the two of you. Not how you had voiced your want for closeness, eyes shining and voice firm. And even less how you had returned his kiss with a fervor that almost broke him. He could still feel the ghost of your figure against him, your lips on his, resenting the moment when you parted and took away the soothing warmth of your body. It had been a long time since he had held anyone this close.

Now in his own room, he still didn’t know what to do with himself. You had wanted to be close to him. You wanted him.

This was real. For once no more pretense, no more appearances to keep. No more illusions of duty.

Real was unfamiliar, and real was scary. But he had made a promise. And Kento was nothing if not a man of his word. What he had thought was a mere soft spot for you had unfurled into a wild torrent of emotions. He now knew that there was little he would ever be able to refuse you.

He shook his head with a chuckle. Reduced to a puddle because of you.

A dangerous thing for a king, that he was fully aware. But maybe love was a game worth the risk. Maybe this was God, or the universe giving him a chance to experience the real thing.

He finally drew from his lovesick haze, standing from the desk where he had been trying to draft some official decree. He chuckled under his breath, looking at the half-formed words that stained the parchment in dark in.

It was funny, now being unable to work for an altogether different reason. How deplorable. But even this bout of unproductivity did not dampen his mood in the way that it usually did. Right now, he had found something else more deserving of his attention. He headed for the exit, pushing through the heavy ebony doors.

Calling for Alma he breathed resolutely. There were things that needed to change.

The sun had long since dipped under the horizon, leaving the castle illuminated in the vermillion hue of chandeliers and candles. You had stayed in the library for the better part of the evening, practically transfixed by the kiss and words shared with the king. With Kento. The fear of being selfish had overwhelmed you the second the words had left your mouth, and the drawn out moments when he had looked at you with unbridled astonishment made your stomach sink with dread.

But all the worries had simply vanished when he drew closer. A wistful sigh, maybe a bit too juvenile exited your lips at the mere thought of the warmth shared within that small vignette of your memory.

You walked back to your quarters, hoping to relish in the feelings that flooded your chest in your bed. Maybe roll around and scream into the pillow with a giddiness only rivaled by when your teenage self had experienced her first romantic venture. But your aspirations were stopped dead in their tracks by an uncharacteristically beaming Alma walking through the halls. Her steps were heavy and resolute, indicative of a clear mission.

As soon as your eyes met, she sauntered over to you. “There you go your majesty!” how had she gotten to your side so quick?

“Good evening Alma,” you greeted, eyes round with curiosity. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, more than alright,” she replied quickly, the lines on her skin easing as they were pulled into a bright smile. “We are past due for a dinner, aren’t we? Please follow me.”

She looped an arm around yours before you had the chance to respond, pulling you along with her. This energy almost reminded you of Yuuji. The kid could rub off on anyone.

She eventually let go of your arm, suddenly embarrassed by her lack of propriety despite you assuring that it was fine. You followed behind the head maid as she led you through the corridors that separated your room from the main royal wing, your curiosity only stirring more deeply upon noticing the change in scenery.

You had not been here since Yuuji’s bout of smallpox. The memory of the sick child soured your positive emotions, but only for a brief moment. As if summoned by your thoughts, the boy emerged from his own room, beaming when his eyes met yours. He immediately launched into a race towards you.

You bent down, bracing yourself for the impact when the boy jumped into your arms. He never failed to remind you how freakishly strong he was for his age, but you were not going to break his enthusiasm with such trifling complaints.

“Mama!” He nuzzled into you as you stood, wrapping his arms around your neck. A laugh, full of mirth escaped your lips, pressing your cheek against his.

“Hello, my little prince.”

“Are you here to eat with us?!” His voice was loud in the night air, but that didn’t bother you. “I have no idea,” you reply with a wide smile of your own, both of your heads turning at Alma who gently cleared her throat. You almost expected a reprimand, but her smile shone brighter than before.

“If you would both follow me,” she gestured to the path ahead before walking again, “you would see.”

And so you followed, with Yuuji discussing what possible dinner options there could be.

“I hope we have chicken! I love chicken,” he gestured with his hands, suddenly diving into an impression of the flightless bird. You nodded in serious agreement. “And lots of veggies too, right? Isn’t there so much to love about spinach too?”

He scrunched his nose, earning another laugh from you.

Alma finally came to a stop in front of a small door, carved with the kingdom’s royal crest . You eyed the door curiously, not sure what room laid behind it. This was the farthest you had ever been into this castle. The matron motioned for you to head in, still beaming at you.

“In here, your majesties. If you need me, just call.”

Yuuji squirmed in your hold, indication that he wanted to be let down and made quick work of pulling the door open, extending a hand to grab yours and pull you in.

The solar that laid beyond the door certainly was a sight to behold. Those you were accustomed to, from your home always felt a bit too cramped with a little too many little things. Most likely than not a reflection of your mother’s semi-hoarding tendencies. They were rooms where you knew to find solace, but only when nothing else was available. Places where your thoughts tended to tangle even more.

But this room exuded nothing but peace. A fireplace crackled on the opposite wall of the room, supplementing the light from the chandelier that hung above the small table at the center of the room along with the various candles all around. The large window that occupied most of the West wall framed the crescent moon, pearly and bright as it illuminated the landscape outside.

Most of all, in the center of the room stood the object of your many thoughts. Sensing your wonder, Nanami gave you a few minutes to acclimate to the area before approaching and bringing your hand to his lips.

“My queen,” he greeted, his warm eyes boring into your in a way that made your entire body warm. You bowed slightly, returning the greeting. “My king.”

“Papa!” Yuuji tugged at his father’s pants, a small frown on his features.

The man chuckled, crouching to ruffle his son’s hair. “I apologize, I made you wait for dinner, Yuuji. I was preparing a little something,” he smiled down at him, and the child’s frown eased as quickly as it had appeared.

Yuuji took a hold of both of your hands, pulling you along to sit around the small table.

“Let’s eat then!”

After helping Yuuji sit down, Nanami pulled the chair for you and then took the seat across from you, an almost shy smile brightening his features. You decided you liked it. Watching this self-assured man be so candid. A little like a shy kid finally breaking out of a mold he was trapped in. He was letting you in. The hard line he had drawn at the edge of himself blurring.

A light chatter carried through the dinner, one that oozed more joy than you had felt in a while. While you were trying to sneak peas into his plate, Yuuji, ever the perceptive kid had leaned in closer to you, a tired smile pulling at his lips before announcing.

“Papa and Mama have made up.”

Putting the child to bed was an easy task; he was basically dropping of sleep already. So much so that even his excitement at both you and Nanami reading him a bedtime story could not keep his little body awake for long. You gave him a kiss on the cheek, contentment blooming in your heart as you exited the room. You took a step away from the door, turning towards the night breeze.

“Thank you,” you whispered, eyes closing. “For tonight, for everything.”

You felt Kento’s hand on your shoulder, hesitant at first, but then relaxing against your skin and giving you a comforting squeeze.

“No, thank you, Y/N,” his breath tickled your neck, the exposed skin erupting in goosebumps. Pleasant.

The air hung heavy with a drawn out silence. Not tense, but still heavy with the weight of words unspoken. You knew he wanted to say more. The way his fingers flexed slightly over your skin, the hesitation. But the tension dissipated, leaving only a gentle caress before his hand slipped down to the small of your back.

“Allow me to walk you back,” the gentle pressure egged you on, walking together in the quiet corridor. But it took little time for your mind to realize that this was not the direction to your room. You were not heading towards the guest wing of the palace.

You looked up at him with a quizzical brow, which he answered with a smile. Slowly, he led you to a new room. One whom you recognized was across from his own. One you had passed many times during your care for Yuuji. Never giving it too much thought. Never allowing yourself to wish.

But as he pushed the doors open, your heart rate picked up slightly, alight with realization. This room, much like the solar where you had shared dinner was illuminated by many candles, casting a warm glow over the velvet covers, silk canopy and soft cushions.

“I took the liberty of having your things moved here,” he explained while you were still taking in the decor, gaze returning to him. “So you could be closer… If you want to, of course,” he added in a rushed breath, cheeks warming slightly at the thought of your possible rejection. One his heart would hate, but he would accept regardless.

You chuckled, bringing a hand to cover your lips. You liked this Nanami. Soft and a bit aloof, but altogether lovely.

“I am happy to be closer,” your words soothed the light tension that was building up in his shoulders, and he exhaled softly.

“I am happy to make you happy,” the words left his lips in a quiet whisper. And there he was again, looking like he wanted to say something more, his fingers twitching lightly by his side, but visibly holding back. You noticed but allowed him the space to come to terms with his own mind, moving away to sit on your new bed, hands resting at your sides to support your body. The fuzzy blanket filled the space between your fingers, warm and buttery smooth.

“I would like to do more,” you spoke after a few bouts of silence, eyes fixed his unmoving self from your position.

His brows shot up. “More? In what way?”

You tilted your head to the side. “I know presiding over ceremonial duties and social events are important things for a queen to do,” you prefaced, suddenly feeling nervous. How was he going to take this? “But I was raised to be a heir in case something happened to my brothers. I am capable. I want to do more for the people of this kingdom.” Your voice, still warm but resolute filled the room. You had spent quite some time learning about the role of the queens in this kingdom. Days on end spent in the library meant you eventually picked up a history tome or two. And while the queens from here played more prominent roles in the social court, the idea of not doing more than that made your being itch uncomfortably. Wanting to reach out for more.

Before uttering any word, the man in question walked towards you. He paused briefly at the foot of the bed, a silent request to sit. You nodded your agreement and he took his place by your side, fingers almost brushing against yours.

“I know you are more than capable,” his smooth voice was still quiet, you both focused on the painting that hung on the wall adjacent from the bed. A castle amid a lonely field, a setting sun whose fading warmth matched that of the candles around you.

"I never properly thanked you for everything you did while I was away. Not just for Yuuji, but for keeping everything running in my absence. It was a burden I unintentionally placed on your hands." He turned to face you, his gaze searching. "I have always shouldered responsibility alone, but the last thing I want is to overwhelm you the way I have before. To put you under unwarranted stress" A sigh escaped him as he glanced down at your hands—close, yet not quite touching.

You sighed in return, covering his hand with yours. Boldly intwining your fingers. “I care for the people in this palace. For the people in this kingdom.” you begun. “If any stress is to come with it, I willingly accept it. Especially if it can take some away from you.” You smiled. “May I say this is another clause of the ‘no line’ agreement?”

The realization hit again. There was very little he would ever be able to refuse you. Nanami brought your joined hands to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles. “This suits you,” he breathed against them, closing his eyes briefly. When he reopened them, they had taken on a more somber look. “I have something to show you then.”

Yet another unfamiliar room, and maybe you would have expected your wonder to quell after some time. Instead it rose, that feeling of giddiness at the unfamiliar. At this new openness. The king’s bedroom was much like what one would imagine for him. Neat and to the point, no gaudy furniture or excessively ornate vases. A large bed, a small parlor set and an office area. Just what was needed.

Nanami noticed the way you stole glances at everything in the room, trying to but failing to contain your curiosity and excitement. A foreign sense of giddiness overtook him too. A reflection of the joy oozing from you.

But alas, it was not the time for his mind to reel over the fact of your presence here. Distractions threatened to cloud his brain at the thoughts of you in his most intimate space. Vivid visions of you lounging on the couch. Sharing his quarters. Sprawled in his bed… He shook his head lightly.

This is not the time.

He walked over to his desk and grabbed a handful of documents, handing then over to you as you followed closely. You squinted, trying to make out the words on the taupe pages.

“I am certain you have already deduced that a critical issue is afoot in the kingdom at the moment,” eyes still glued to the papers, you nodded.

“Someone or some people are actively fueling conflict in the South. Someone who has power, and a thirst for influence beyond what is afforded to them. ” You frowned deeply, eyes scanning over the rest of the words. A report about dubious activity, reluctant deductions about high treason.

“Do we know who that someone is?”

“I have suspicions, but there is no conclusive evidence,” Kento crossed his arms over his chest, lips pulled tightly in thought.

“How could I help?” The words left your mouth hastily, fired up by the audacity of it all. Treason against what most considered a kind rule. Threats to the peace and lives of a kind people. Anguish added onto the life of your husband. How dare they?

“Next week,” he gently coaxed the papers from your hold, and you noticed the deep wrinkled where your hands had gripped them. “The Northern duchy holds their decennial retreat. It is a time when the entire aristocracy is required to reside in the North for celebrations commemorating the unification of the kingdom a hundred years ago,” he explained. “As per tradition, the royal family will all have to attend,” a deep frown overtook his features. “And I know the culprit will be among the attendees. All I ask of you is to keep close,” worry coated his features. “I am telling you this because I want to be honest. Per our agreement, right?”

If the traitor had taken actions as brazen as trying to strike down a major economic center in the region, there was no telling what they were willing to do to anyone else. Nanami felt another one of those emotions he would rather have bottled away. Fear. Sharp and miserable. He could not lose anyone else. He would not put you at risk.

“Of course,” you gave a tight-lipped smile, recognizing the anguish in his features. But also knowing that you could not just sit and twiddle your thumbs while in the presence of a threat to the entire kingdom. Your new home.

The northern Duchy, the Zenin family. You had heard of them in passing, a recluse family, 'wholly unsociable and stingy' in Mei’s own words.

The ominous feeling of trouble brewing had already set root in your heart. Kamo’s words, Gojo’s interest. They all put you on edge.

If anything was to put the integrity of this newfound family in jeopardy, you would not stand for it. You were the people’s queen. Kento’s wife. You had already made up your mind. If need be, you would act.

Y'all let me know what you think! I also finished writing this at 2am so apologies for typos/other errors.

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated (❁´◡`❁)

Tag list: @bl3333h @ladygojooo @evans-dejong @flaneur002 @bopsigles

@taeteddybear @tylersaiddonteatbananas @starmapz @lucreied @cosmicbreathe

@abhootghiihii @amisuh @luvstama @tomiokasecretlover @ofcqdesi

@lazypostfandomer @qualitygiantshoepsychic @natsuyuki-w @sodapop182

[hunieday]

Osaka Sougo - Drama Collection vol.2 Rabbit Chat

Please note that I am not a professional translator and I'm only doing this to share the side materials to those who cannot access them, if you notice any mistakes please let me know nicely. Enjoy!

Osaka Sougo: Thank you for your hard work, Momo-san. And thank you so much for going out of your way to host a delicious catering lunch for us today despite your busy schedule.

Osaka Sougo: Thanks to you, I was able to focus even more during the shoot. I am once again very grateful. I will continue to do my best not to hold anyone back, so I look forward to your continued support.

Momo: Sougo~~ 😆🫶🫶 Thanks for the lovely rabbichat!!!!

Osaka Sougo: It’s nothing at all! You found it lovely…!?

Momo: It’s so Sougo-like that I could practically hear your voice through the screen, which is super lovely 🥺💕

Momo: Not only that, but you thanked me in person on set so you really didn’t have to go out of your way to send a message! ✨ I just wanted to enjoy some good food with you guys so don’t worry about it‼🥰

Osaka Sougo: Thank you for your kind words…! I wanted to properly express my gratitude, that’s why I wrote you a message.

Osaka Sougo: I think your rabbichats are wonderful as well. I can hear Momo-san's tender heart and gorgeous voice permeate through the letters.

Momo: Wonderful…? 🥺 ba-dum…

Osaka Sougo: Yes! It’s one of your many charms.

Momo: Does that mean you like me…? 🥺

Osaka Sougo: It might be a bit presumptuous of me to say, but yes!

Momo: Yaaay~~! 🫶 Momo-chan and Yuki will sandwich you and turn you all squishy! 💚💜🩷

Osaka Sougo: S-squishy…!? 

Osaka Sougo: I truly appreciate your thoughtfulness…! I’ll make sure to train my core regularly so that I can withstand any unexpected situations (being turned into a squishy mess for example).

Momo: Unexpected situations LMAOOO

Osaka Sougo: I respect Re:vale a lot after all…

Momo: You’re too cute, Sougo 🤩✨ I’m glad we could chat since our break times didn’t overlap today (*´艸｀) 💕

Momo: We mainly had Chinese food for today’s catering, what did you like the most? 🍜

Osaka Sougo: Everything was delicious, but if I had to choose one dish, I’d say the tantan soup (1)! Being able to choose the level of spiciness was fun.

Momo: Yours was super red though!? lolol

Osaka Sougo: Yes, I’d say it was about the same color as Scarlatto Veneziano.

Momo: What the hell my eyes just glazed over trying to read that lolololol

Osaka Sougo: It’s a reddish-orange! It may even resemble the color of a fully ripe persimmon.

Momo: Hoho…! Glad the catering was up to your tastes! The spice handle went from 1 to 10 🫣

Osaka Sougo: Yes…! I went with level 8.

Momo: 8!?!?!?

Momo: Wouldn’t your lips swell up from the spice and turn puffy!? 😭 Your character’s gonna end up being “that guy with the lip filler” instead !?!? 😭😭

Osaka Sougo: Oh, I was totally fine! I actually toned the level down since I have a secret code with Mitsuki-san.

Momo: Dude you keep dropping some crazy lines lololol what’s you guys’ secret code!?

Osaka Sougo: When Mitsuki-san asks, “How spicy is it?” I promised to reply, “Just a little!” especially when I’m eating outside, so we don’t alarm those around us.

Momo: What the hell, that’s so cute!!! It’s like a call-and-response (2)! I’m totally asking you “How spicy?” next time 🤩

Osaka Sougo: Yes…! And I will respond with “Just a little!”

Momo: I’m kinda sad that the shoot’s gonna be over soon~~! 😭

Osaka Sougo: Likewise, I really loved the set... The atmosphere you create is so warm, Momo-san.

Osaka Sougo: I apologize for the mistake I caused on the first day, the reshoot must’ve been an inconvenience…

Momo: Oh youuuu, stop worrying about that! 🥺 If you’re gonna say that, then I messed up a bunch too! You had to carry wine for so long because I kept reshooting lolol

Osaka Sougo: No, that situation was out of your control since your costume didn’t flow the way it was supposed to…!

Momo: Yup! Making it look like I was floating was much harder than I thought it’d be! 🥺 

Momo: That’s the scene where your character, who works at the hotel the ghost lives in as a waiter, yells out “Why do you keep interrupting me during work!? You cruel ghost, get out!” right? 🤔

Osaka Sougo: Yes… I’m not used to yelling, so my voice cracked a little… It’s an important scene too. The ghost was interested in my character, but I couldn’t stand the pranks he pulled on a daily basis anymore and I exploded…

Momo: But I really loved your acting! You were blushing right up to your ears, your hands were shaking, and so was your voice. You exploded with emotion.

Momo: That’s why I got more into my own role than usual, I think! I ended up responding to the waiter’s anger with extra sass, and I went, “What do you want me to do to pass time then, you stupid brat!” ✨

Osaka Sougo: Thank you very much… Your playful and mischievous tone was also very wonderful, Momo-san! You embody every role you play so well…!

Momo: Ehehe, thanks 🤗 I really like this role since it’s cute! 

Momo: It’s so endearing how he ghost actually wants to be friends with the waiter, but he just can’t be honest about it 🥺❤

Osaka Sougo: He’s a bit of a tsundere, isn’t he. If only he asked the waiter to play with him, things wouldn’t have escalated to that degree…

Momo: They keep misunderstanding each otherrrrrr! I totally relaaaaate!!!

Osaka Sougo: You and Yuki-san always seem to understand each other perfectly, but it sounds like you’ve had moments like that too…

Momo: Yeah, for sure! All the time actually. Yuki does so many things I can’t do, I can’t even begin to grasp some of it. I want to support him too, but sometimes what I think is helpful isn’t what he actually needs… and vice versa.

Momo: Most of the time, it’s just us trying to do something good for each other that backfires LOL

Osaka Sougo: I understand………………………….

Momo: you relate in a way huh LOL

Osaka Sougo: May I ask, how do you resolve those misunderstandings…?

Momo: We argue to the bitter end! We talk!

Osaka Sougo: You argue!? Is that okay?!

Momo: Of course! Leaving things that way is actually the worst! Though I’ve only learnt that from spending so many years with Yuki so I can’t be too high and mighty about it

Momo: We fight because we wanna understand each other, share what we feel, and cherish one another

Osaka Sougo: I see how it is

Osaka Sougo: Tamaki-kun and I cherish each other too, right?

Momo: Yup! You can lose sight of something that obvious when you spend so much time with someone.

Momo: Thanks, Sougo! Talking to you made me reflect on myself and how much I wanna keep working hard, together with Yuki.

Osaka Sougo: Oh no, I’m the one who should be thanking you…! at first I only wanted to thank you, but I’m grateful you listened to me for this long!

Momo:

Momo: Yuki’s stuck composing something right now so I didn’t wanna bother him, but I’ll reach out and make sure he gets some fresh air. Even if I have to drag him out. 😤

Osaka Sougo: I see, then I’ll try to reach out to Tamaki-kun even when he’s busy with choreography or school. I wanna talk to him about work even more!

Momo: That’s awesome 😤 😤 Let’s catch up again soon, Sougo! 😤

Osaka Sougo: Yes…! I’m looking forward to it 😤

Tantan soup: Tantanmen soup, inspired by the Chinese Sichuan Dandan noodles. A spicy and creamy noodles dish. (via kitchenstories)

Call and response: a form of interaction between a speaker and an audience in which the speaker's statements ("calls") are punctuated by responses from the listeners. This form is also used in music, where it falls under the general category of antiphony. (via wikipedia)

[kendallroydefender]

Cowboy take me away - Chapter 2 (Kayce Dutton x Roy!Reader)

Masterlist

Summary: You’re Y/n Roy the youngest daughter of one of the richest men in America but all that money can’t make you happy and you decide to move to Montana for a while. But what happens when you meet the youngest son of another influential man? (This is mainly a Yellowstone fic you don’t have to watch succession to follow it)

Authors note: I am so sorry that it took me this long for the second chapter! Uni was stressing me out! I promise the next chapter will come really soon!

It’s been a few days since your accident and while your ankle still felt a little tender, it was good enough to start going out again. A Restlessness had started after days of staying home. So you decided to go out again. You wanted to try that burger place Kayce had recommended when he drove you back to your rental.

Pulling on a jacket and comfortable shoes, you decided to walk there. It was just a ten minute walk- just enough to stretch your legs and enjoy a bit of Montanas charm. Fall had fully arrived now, the crisp air had a faint bite, a hint of what was to come.

As you pushed the door to the diner open, a bell above it jingled softly, announcing your arrival.

A middle aged woman with kind eyes and a smile greeted you from behind the counter.

”Hello sweetheart, what can I get you?“ She asked

”I heard the burgers here are amazing, so… I’ll take a cheeseburger, please. And a chocolate milkshake.“ you added with a smile.

”Coming right up! Go ahead and pick a seat, honey.“ she smiled back at you

You slid into a booth by the window, content to watch the world pass by as you waited.

Your food arrived quickly and it looked just as good as you had imagined.

You were so absorbed in your thought that you didn’t notice the chime of the bell announcing another customer.

Kayce had walked in, nodding to the waitress as he ordered a coffee to go. He made smalltalk with Miranda, the woman behind the counter, but as she stepped away to prepare his drink, his eyes roamed around the room. He spotted you, sitting at the booth, completely unaware of his presence. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he thanked Miranda for the beverage. Instead of leaving, he walked over to you.

”Y’know, I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.“ His warm and teasing voice startled you. Looking up you found Kayce standing at the edge of your table, his trucker cap slightly crooked and a hint of a smile on his face. He looked comfortable in the environment, like he belonged here, that he probably did.

”Well, what can I say? You weren’t lying about these burgers.“ You replied

Kayce chuckled and nodded towards the seat across from you. ”Mind if I sit?“

”Oh, no, of course! Sit down.“ You said quickly, gesturing for him to join you.

He sat down on the seat across from you.

”How’s the ankle?“ He asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

”Much better,“ you answered ”I’ve been taking it easy, staying home.“

”Good. Glad to hear it,“ he said. „Montana treating you well so far?“

”Yeah, I love it here. It’s… different from the city. Slower, quieter.“ You hesitated for a moment before admitting ”I haven’t seen much of it yet, though. I guess I don’t really know where to start.“

He leaned back slightly, a thoughtful look crossing his face

”I could make you a list or show you around.“ He offered. The words tumbling out before he had time to think. Usually he didn’t do this - care about new people in town. But there was something about you that made him curious. You looked beautiful, sure but there was also something about the way you carried yourself.

”You’d do that?“ You asked smiling brightly.

He nodded, smiling back at you ”Yeah, I’d like to.

You didn’t say anything for a moment, but the grin on your face spoke for you.

The conversation continued, flowing easy between you two. You told him bits about your life in New York and he shared a bit about working and living on the ranch. Before you knew it nearly an hour had passed. Glancing at the clock, you let out a small gasp.

”Oh no, I didn’t mean to keep you! I must be holding you up.“ You said apologetically.

Kayce shook his head, a soft expression in his eyes.

”Your not. Wasn’t in a hurry.“ He said, the To-go cup in front of him suggested otherwise.

It wasn’t until the patter of rain against the windows drew your attention away from the cowboy. You realized how hard it was pouring.

”Great.“ You muttered ”I walked here.“

”You walked?“ KAyce asked, brow furrowing slightly

”It was sunny when I left.“ You said, a sheepish smile on your face

”Come on, I’ll drive you home.“ He said, getting up

”No, no, you don’t have to. Really, I’m fine. You’ve already had to rescue me once this week.“ Your cheeks slightly flushed at the Idea of him always having to save the helpless city girl.

Kayce chuckled, shaking his head.

”You can’t walk home in that. Come on, its no trouble.“

Relucantly you stood up and followed him. Before you could protest again he shrugged off his jacket and held it over your head, to shield you as you two hurried to his truck.

Once inside you noticed his damp shirt and his hair.

You frowned ”Now you’re all wet, I feel terrible.“

”Dont. Its just rain, I’ve been through worse.“ He said, starting the car.

”So… horses, huh?“ You asked after a bit of just sitting in comfortable silence.

He nodded

”Yeah, I train them. Been doing it my whole life.“

”Thats so cool. Definitely more interesting than what I’ve been doing.“

”You’ve ever been around horses?“ He asked, glancing over to you briefly before looking back on the road.

”Nope. Can’t even ride one.“ You confessed

He smiled at that something almost teasing in his expression

”Well you could come over to the ranch. Watch the horses. Maybe I’ll teach you how to ride.“

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise, but the excitement in your voice was undeniable

”You’d do that?“

”Sure.“ He said, his voice steady ”I think you’d like it.“

You smiled at him, the warmth in his voice, settling in your chest.

By the time he pulled up in the front of your place the rain had turned into a drizzle.

As you opened the truck door you paused ”Thank you Kayce. For the ride. And for… everything.“ You said softly, thankful for him making this place a little more easy to adjust in.

”Anytime.“ He replied, his brown eyes meeting yours with a sincerity in them that made your stomach flip.

You stepped out and hurried to the door. As you turned to wave goodbye you noticed that he was still watching you from the truck. He waved back, a smile on his face. Closing the door behind you, you felt for the first time since arriving in Montana, that Maybe, just maybe, you could belong here.

Taglist: @ganana @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

[nocasdatsgay]

The Worst Book

Pairing: Gen/Implied Nessian | Word Count: 801 | Rating: T i guess

Summary: Emerie gives Nesta a book to read not fully detailing what she would be reading

A/N: For @readychilledwine who jokingly said she would pay good money to see [redacted] used in a fic lol

Read Below or on Read on AO3

Gen Tagging: @hieragalbatorixdottir @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @ninthcircleofprythian @daycourtofficial @ysmtttty @secret-third-thing @acourtofladydeath If I missed you let me know.

“Then he pulled out his purple-headed yogurt slinger. And gods did I want some of that yogurt slung onto my tongue. I dropped to my knees-”

Nesta threw the book. She had put up with poor writing before but this? She fell back onto the couch. Her mate, who has been reading beside her in his own chair, watched her from over his book. 

“You okay there Nes?” He asked. 

“No,” she replied, not moving. 

“Someone die?”

“Worse!” 

He raised a brow as she sat back up and got the book off the floor. He sat his own open faced down in his lap while she flipped to the pages. 

“There,” she shoved the book and pointed at the words. “Read that.” 

He did and he burst with laughter. “Purple- purple headed, what?” 

“Purple-headed yogurt squirter.” Nesta fake gagged. “I’ll never eat yogurt again.”

“Not even mine?” Cass replied quickly. Nesta hit him with the book and he laughed more. “Where did you even find that?” 

“Emerie. Tomorrow I am going to ask what the hells she was thinking.” 

As promised, the next morning Azriel brought Emerie to training and Nesta was waiting. Arms crossed and book in hand, she glared at her friend as she approached. 

“What did I do?” Emerie asked. Her gaze fell to the book and she grinned. “Oh, so you got to chapter 14.”

“Why in the hells did you recommend this to me?” Nesta grinned. 

“If I had to read it, you had to read it. Did you keep going?” Nesta shook her head and Emerie howled with laughter. “Go to the next chapter! You have to see his POV.”

Hesitantly, Nesta flipped the pages. She skimmed the page, picking up that the main female had just given this main male the best blowjob of his life and he was going to return the favor. She turned the page and a voice pulled her away. 

“What are you both giggling about?” Gwyn had arrived. 

Nesta cut her eyes to Emerie and they both burst with laughter again. 

“You don’t want to know,” Nesta said between laughs. 

“Oh come on, yes I do!” Gwyn grinned. 

“It’s a smut book.” Emerie said plainly. “The author called the man’s cock a purple headed yogurt squirter.” 

“Oh,” Gwyn’s eyes widened and her cheeks flushed. 

Behind her in the distance, Az’s head whipped up. “They said it was what?” 

Cassian cackled beside him. Both males walked over to join them and Emerie explained she had read the book and it was so horrible she needed Nesta to see it. She then turned to her friend and gestured to the book. 

“She was about to read what the main male calls the females-“ she eyed Gwyn, who still wasn’t used to the crassness of the romance novels she and Nesta read. “Her bits.” 

Nesta opened the book where she had her finger placed. She read aloud. 

“I had to return the favor. She laid out in front of me and her legs parted, revealing the treasure between them. I parted- oh my gods I parted the lips of her meat oyster and my tongue dived in to find its pearl.” Nesta yelled last part. “Where the hells did you find this! This cannot be real.”

The boys doubled over, leaning on each other laughing. Gwyn too, covered her mouth as her body shook with giggles. 

Emerie grinned. “It’s a, what did they call it? A satire romance novel. It’s supposed to be terrible.” 

“I think you’re just saying that because it’s so horrible.” Nesta replied, scrunching her nose at the book. 

“Okay ladies,” Cassian regained his composure. “The others will be here soon. We’re here to train with actual swords. Not. Yogurt squirting ones.” 

Gwyn made a face and everyone chuckled. Nesta went to put the book away and Emerie leaned over to her. 

She whispered. “Before you toss it in the fire, read chapter twenty.” 

Nesta gave her a look but sat it down. Later that night as she winded down for bed, she went to chapter twenty. It was the males POV again. She braced herself as she read. 

“I bent her over the table and threw up her dress. I groaned seeing she had no panties on. I wasted no time shoving down my trousers. My meat injector was hard and locked in-“

Nesta was instantly taken aback. “Meat injector?” She muttered. 

She kept reading. “-and ready to shoot my load and baste the insides of my love’s flesh sleeve.” She gagged, instantly regretting it.

She tossed the book on the table beside her chair and tried to clear her mind. If her mate was going to be handsy in bed- as he usually was, she could not be thinking about that. It would definitely ruin the mood. 

[realhousewifeofcoruscant]

The Price of Loyalty

Pairing: Orson Krennic x F! Wife Reader

Summary: Rebel gangs have been kidnapping family members of imperial officers. Several high ranking officers have had their wives or children taken in recent weeks. The Empire is trying to track the rebels down and rescue the victims. Orson is incredibly worried his wife will become the next victim.

Notes: I posted the first two chapters of this fic like a year ago and then I got distracted with other projects *cough* Rings of Power and Celebrimbor *cough* but as Andor Season 2 is about to drop and I am heading to Star Wars Celebration in Japan next month I am firmly back on my Star Wars bullshit. I decided to rework the first two chapters and repost it. Chapters 3 and 4 are also being posted today! I hope you perverts enjoy it!

Tag List: @sydknee624

Chapter One

Orson's datapad beeped for the 5th time in the last 5 minutes.

"Ori, your datapad..get it." you mumbled sleepily into your pillow. After a moment his datapad beeped again. You stretched your arm out into the bed feeling for him. Your hands were met with empty, cold sheets. You sat up rubbing the tiredness from your eyes.

"Ori?" you called out looking around the room.

Once you were fully awake, you realized the shower was on.

You slipped off the bed and walked over to the refresher door, opening it.

"Ori, darling, your datapad has been going off like mad for the last five minutes. Shall I bring it to you?" The shower turned off, and Orson pulled back the curtain.

"No need; I’m done in here. I’ll get it." He reached for a towel. "Did it wake you? I'm sorry, love," he said sympathetically as he wrapped the towel around himself.

"It's fine; I needed to get up anyway. I've got a meeting in a couple of hours," you replied through a yawn.

Orson walked over and kissed your cheek before reaching for his datapad. His fingers swiped across the screen rapidly. You sat back down on the bed, watching as Orson's expression changed with each swipe.

"What?" you heard him mumble in disbelief. "How did this happen?" He continued to talk to himself under his breath as he swiped faster and faster through his datapad.

"What's the matter?" you asked.

"No, no, no—this doesn't make sense," he muttered.

"What doesn't make sense?" you asked, a slight panic rising in your chest. Orson didn’t answer or look up from his datapad. He continued swiping, a look of disbelief and shock on his face.

"Orson!" you snapped. "What's wrong?"

Finally, Orson looked up from his screen. "There has been an incident with a rebel gang. It seems the wife and teenage son of Admiral Sloane have been kidnapped."

"Oh my stars!" you gasped.

"Apparently, the rebels sent a message to the Emperor claiming they will continue to kidnap family members of high-ranking officials until their demands are met," he said in bewilderment.

"That is insane... I can't believe the rebels have stooped this low," you whispered in disbelief.

"I need to leave—now. Tarkin's called an emergency meeting." He set down his datapad and began rifling through the closet for his uniform.

"You're not to leave the Death Star today," he said, fumbling with his belt. "In fact, don't leave our quarters."

"Don't leave our quarters? That seems a bit overdramatic. Surely I am safe anywhere aboard the Death Star," you protested.

"Do not argue with me! I said stay in our quarters!" he said firmly.

"I have a meeting later this morning; I need to—" you began, but Orson cut you off.

"Cancel it. You are staying here! Do you understand me?" His blue eyes narrowed on you.

"Alright, alright... I'll reschedule my meeting," you responded, raising your hands in surrender. "I won't leave our quarters."

"Promise me," he said sternly, taking a step toward you.

"I promise I won't leave our quarters," you repeated. "I'll reschedule the meeting."

Orson smiled. "That's my good girl," he said, kissing your forehead. "Stay put for me; I will be back as soon as I can."

Chapter Two

Orson was gone for three hours. Three long, agonizing hours. A million scenarios swirled around in your head. You kept thinking about Admiral Sloane's wife and son. They must be terrified. Admiral Sloane was probably losing his mind with anxiety and grief. He was such a sweet man, he and his family didn't deserve this.

Orson said the rebels planned to continue the kidnappings until their demands were met. What demands? Who would they target next? You began pacing around your quarters picking at you finger nails.

Finally you decided to call your friend Zanta. She was married to the captain of the Star Destroyer Manticore which was currently stationed in the mid rim sector. Perhaps she had heard what was going on. You needed someone to talk to before your anxiety morphed into a full on panic attack.

You sat down at the kitchen counter and pulled out your holoprojector. You dialed her comlink and within a moment her blueish gray form was projected in front of you.

“I was wondering when you were going to call me!” Zanta said teasingly.

“So you’ve heard then?” You asked.

“It’s all anyone is talking about here aboard the Manticore! Kidnapping an admirals family is absolutely ludicrous! I knew the rebels were scum but this is a new low.” Zanta huffed. “Anyway, I’m sure you know way more than they are telling us. What has Orson said about the situation?” She inquired.

“He left three hours ago for a meeting with Tarkin. He’s not comeback yet. I was hoping you had heard something beyond the initial report…I’m going insane sitting here alone. He forbade me from leaving our quarters!” You said slightly exasperated.

“That seems a bit extreme! You’re aboard the largest battle station in the galaxy! There is nowhere safer!” She chuckled.

“I know, but this is Orson we are talking about. He would put a tracking device on me if he thought he could get away with it.” You laughed.

Just then the door to your quarters opened and Orson strode in. He looked relived to see you sitting at the counter, as if he half expected you to not be there. You met his gaze and gave him a small smile. His expression was grave.

"Orson's just come back. I need to sign off. I will contact you soon. Stay safe, Zanta." You clicked your holoprojector off and jumped up from your chair.

"I've been going mad in your absence!" you squealed. "Tell me everything! What happened? How is Admiral Sloane holding up? Have they found the rebels responsible for this? What are the rebels' demands?" you were nearly breathless after your questioning.

Orson said nothing. He sat down on the couch and motioned for you to come and join him. He stuck his hand out for you to grab and he pulled you onto his lap. His expression was vacant, distant and a little sad.

"Are you alright, my love?" You asked in a whisper.

"The details...I can't bear to think about it.'' Orson said expressionless.

You stroked his cheek gently with your thumb. He was clearly shaken by what he'd learned in the meeting. After a few quiet moments he met your gaze. "His family is gone." He said matter-of-factly. "Their bodies were discovered in a trash compactor on Jakol."

"What?!" you screamed. "Oh my...how awful! Maker! Poor Admiral Sloane!" You said as hot tears began to form at the edges of your eyes.

"The rebels sent the emperor a list of demands, as well as a list of potential next targets." Orson's eyes flashed with anger. "You and Tarkin's daughter are on the list of targets." Orson's voice was dripping with venom. "The emperor refuses to negotiate or engage with the rebels. He's confident the Empire will track them down..as am I...but in the meantime..." his voice trailed off.

"In the meantime what?" You probed.

Orson grabbed your firmly around your waist and shifted you to sit next to him. "I think its best if you go to Coruscant. Tarkin is sending his daughter there as well. You can stay in our condo there until these rebels are caught. I can't have you in open space with this threat looming." He wasn't looking at you. He knew you would protest.

"Absolutely not!" you said firmly. "Surely I am safer here with you. Please, Ori don't send me away." you begged.

He stood up and began pacing the room. "Did you not hear me? Admiral Sloane's family is dead. His wife is dead. His son is dead." Orson's voice was getting louder with every word. "You will go to Coruscant. End of discussion!" He barked.

You stood up and walked over to him. "Sweetheart.." you began "I don't mean to be argumentative, but I'm scared. I don't want to be alone on Coruscant with these rebels running around." You grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "I only feel safe with you." you whispered clutching his hand in yours.

Orson's expression softened. "You're my greatest weakness. I can not focus on strategy if I am distracted with concerns of your safety. The rebels wont be able to get to you on Coruscant. I need you to go there."

"But...I...I'm scared, Orson. I wat to be here with you." your voice caught in your throat and hot tears began to form in your eyes.

Orson’s heart ached at the sight of your tears, the vulnerability in your voice cutting through his resolve. He stepped closer, gently cupping your face in his hands, his thumb brushing away a tear.

“I understand. I truly do,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But you have to believe me when I say that I would never ask this if it weren’t necessary. The danger is real, and I can’t have you in open space. Coruscant has resources, security, and people who will look after you. I need you there, where I know you’ll be safe, so I can find these rebels without being distracted by fear.”

You wanted to protest, to yell, to beg, but all you could manage was a small, quiet "okay." Tears burst forth, and you buried your face in Orson's chest.

Chapters 3 and 4