#me and the hand are in a competition and it’s winning

[mugglebornmarvelite]

Game Night

Paring: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: Steve’s mandatory game night takes a turn when you and Bucky are paired up.

Word Count: Roughly 1.4k 

Warnings: Fluff, banter, friendly competition, implied threats, destroying property (Bucky and Sam), romantic tension everyone can feel, and some overprotective Bucky because that man does not play about his sunshine.

Author’s Note: Sorry for the delay; I was helping my friend with a research project. Ugh, it feels choppy, but I hope this is to your liking, babes ;)

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Divider by: @strangergraphics

The living room buzzed with energy as the Avengers tried to recover from the chaos of their most recent mission; the munching of chips and clinking of drinks in glasses filled the space.

Peter and you were talking animatedly about the mission, with Peter recounting how he flipped mid-air, webbing a bad guy to a nearby wall.

“I mean, I swear, the guy didn’t see it coming. I was way higher up than I thought, and then BAM!” Peter dramatically mimicked the motion with his arms, sending you into fits of laughter.

“It’s honestly kind of unfair that you can just flip your way out of everything, Pete,” you teased, elbowing him.

He shrugged, all smugness. “I mean, someone’s gotta make the web-swinging look good, right?”

Before you could reply, Steve stood up from his spot, clapping his hands for attention. “Alright, team! Time for some mandatory bonding!”

A chorus of groans erupted from the group, each one from someone hoping to escape Steve’s relentless enthusiasm for ‘team-building’ nights.

“Tonight is Charades.” Steve declared.

That’s when Steve decided to assign the partners. He glanced around the room with a twinkle in his eye and paired you with Bucky, clearly anticipating the fun to come.

You gave Bucky your signature puppy dog eyes, and he looked away with a scowl as he crossed his arms over his chest, not wanting to give in and show that he was happy to be partnered with you.

“Oh, great,” Bucky muttered, rolling his eyes. “This is gonna be a disaster.”

You didn’t let his grumpiness throw you off. “Bucky, come on!” you said, plopping beside him on the couch. “We’ve got this! We’re unstoppable!”

Bucky raised an eyebrow and shot you a skeptical look. “Sure, sure. We’ll see about that.”

He didn’t seem convinced, and as Sam overheard, he couldn’t resist adding his two cents.

"Oh, this is gonna be easy," Sam declared loudly, rolling his eyes. "Grumpy Barnes can’t even smile, let alone act."

"You’re gonna regret that," Bucky shot back, his tone thick with warning. 

His words weren’t loud, but they were laced with enough warning that Sam quickly leaned back into his seat, hands raised in mock surrender.

"Okay, okay, I get it," Sam laughed, but you caught the wariness in his eyes. "But not holding my breath, this will be easy."

Then, leaning in toward you, he whispered, “If we lose to that clown, I’m never letting it go.”

You gave him an exaggerated look of disbelief, pretending to be shocked. "Who knew you cared so much about winning?"

Bucky’s lips quirked into the faintest smirk. "Don’t mess this up," he teased.

You winked at him. “You’re with me. How could we lose?”

As the game started, it quickly became clear that Bucky treated charades less like a fun group activity and more like a tactical mission. His intense focus was almost comical, but you fell into an unspoken rhythm. 

When it was your turn to act, Bucky’s sharp eyes locked onto you, and after a few gestures, he almost always guessed your clues. When it was his turn, he leaned into the ridiculousness of it all, whether miming a gorilla or pretending to be a ballerina, just to keep your laughter ringing through the room.

By the end of the game, the scoreboard showed a landslide victory in your favor. Bucky allowed himself a small, smug grin as you squealed in delight and launched yourself into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“We’re the dream team!” you exclaimed, giggling as you clung to him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, though his grip on you was secure, his metal arm effortlessly supporting you. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Much to everyone's amusement, he carried you back to the couch, where he promptly plopped you into his lap. “You’re comfy,” you declared with a grin, making yourself home. 

Sam, clearly displeased, waved a hand in your direction. “This has to be rigged. There’s no way those two didn’t cheat.”

Natasha snorted, leaning back in her chair. “They didn’t cheat, Wilson. They’re just disgustingly in sync.”

Sam grabbed a pillow and chucked it at you. “Sync this!”

The pillow hit you square in the face, and you burst out laughing, holding it in your lap. “It’s just a pillow!”

But Bucky didn’t see it that way. His gaze turned sharp as he caught the second pillow Sam threw mid-air. “If you throw another one at her...”

Sam, of course, took that as a challenge. “What are you gonna do, Barnes?” he quipped, hurling another pillow that you easily dodged.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll give you a five-second head start.”

Sam’s smirk faltered. “Wait, what?”

Without a word, Bucky carefully brushed your hair out of your face, placed you gently on the couch, and stood up. The room went silent as he walked purposefully toward the hallway. 

“What’s he doing?” you asked, looking to Steve for answers.

Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, hiding a smile. “He’s going to smash Redwing.”

Sam’s eyes widened in panic. 

“Barnes, you touch Redwing, I swear-” He bolted after Bucky, and the two disappeared down the hall. 

Moments later, a loud crash echoed through the compound, followed by Sam’s yelling and Bucky’s retorts.

Natasha chuckled, shaking her head as she leaned back on the couch. “This happens all the time.”

You glanced between her and Steve, bewildered. “Doesn’t anyone stop them?”

Steve shrugged. “Nope. They’ll tire themselves out eventually.”

From a distance, the team could hear the muffled sounds of Bucky and Sam bickering echoing through the compound. 

“Touch Redwing, and you’re paying for a whole new one!” Sam’s voice was laced with fear.

“Oh, don’t worry, Wilson,” Bucky shot back, his tone mockingly calm. “I’ll make sure to recycle the pieces. I hear it’s good for the environment.”

A loud thud followed as if Bucky had knocked something over or thrown something against the wall. 

“Man, what is your problem?” Sam hollered. “You act like I threw a brick at her!”

“You hit her in the face!” Bucky retorted.

“It was a pillow!” Sam defended himself. “It probably felt like a marshmallow.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bucky countered. “You don’t throw things at her. Ever.”

Back in the living room, you stifled a laugh as Natasha shook her head in amused disbelief. “It’s always like this,” she said, smirking. “I don’t know why Sam keeps testing him.”

Steve folded his arms, looking like the exasperated dad of the group. “Because Sam likes pushing buttons. And Bucky…well, Bucky only has so much patience.”

Another crash echoed from down the hallway, followed by Sam’s yell. “Oh, come on! That wasn’t even Redwing! That was my lamp!”

“You’ve got terrible taste in decor, Wilson,” Bucky said, completely unfazed.

“YOU OWE ME A NEW LAMP!” Sam shouted.

“I did you a favor.” Bucky said dryly. “So say ‘thank you,’ it's polite.”

You couldn’t hold back your giggles any longer. “Should we...I don’t know, step in?” you asked, looking at Steve.

Steve shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Nah. Let them hash it out. Bucky’s not actually going to break Redwing. Probably.”

“Probably?” Natasha echoed. “You’re really putting a lot of faith in him.”

From the hallway, Sam yelled again. “THAT’S IT, BARNES. YOU AND ME. SPARRING MATCH TOMORROW.”

“Fine,” Bucky fired back. “But don’t be mad when I wipe the floor with you, bird brain.”

Natasha leaned over to you, her voice low. “You know he’s only this protective because it’s you, right? He doesn’t care this much when we get hit with stuff.”

You blushed, glancing down at your hands. “He’s just…looking out for me. Like a guardian.”

Natasha snorted. “Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

Steve smiled knowingly but didn’t say anything. 

The sounds of Sam and Bucky’s argument gradually faded as they came back.

Sam was glaring, his hair disheveled, and he muttered under his breath about never forgiving Bucky. 

Bucky, on the other hand, was smug, like he had just won a personal victory.

Sam threw himself back down on the couch, muttering something about "not talking to Barnes for the rest of the week," to which Bucky gave a half-hearted shrug.

He sat down beside you, his arm casually draped across the back of the couch. His eyes flicked down to you, and without a word, he reached out to brush his knuckles lightly over your knee.

“You okay, sunshine?” he asked quietly, only for you to hear.

You smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Bucky’s lips quirked upward, just slightly. “Good,” he said softly. “No one messes with you. Not even Sam.”

The others shared amused looks, but neither of you paid them any mind. Bucky’s protective side made your heart flutter in a way you didn’t quite understand, and you sank further into the couch, curling into his side.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @princess-lil-spidey @sapphirebarnes @mgchaser @sparklystarsandstrawberries @arcadia-smith @rnurse-kole @juliebluehufflepuff @sailorsenshiuranep @alexxavicry @ficcharsimp

If you'd like to be added to my taglist or just ask me, and I'll update it!

Much love x

- Maeve

[shinningdance]

Taste tasting

Roommate au because @beloveds-embrace captured my heart with this au q(≧▽≦q)

warnings: none!! Pure fluff!

The Kitchen was a mess, to put it nicely. It actually looked like a bomb hit. Multiple Pans on the stove, cake icing on the counter - slowly dripping down to the floor, egg shells next to a big pile of flour.

The oven is on, finishing the cake you've been working on for the last 2 hours, the cupcakes are already cooling down by the dinning table. Very carefully you transfer the steak from the pan to a plate, where perfectly cooked potatoes are decorating one half of the plate. Finishing off the meat, you sprinkle a bit of sea salt on top.

You do this two more times, having bought too much meat and not wanting to waste it, it leads to this mess. You only wanted a small piece for yourself, after all you need to practice.

That's what got you into this situation, a cooking competition. Now, why would you waste your time on some silly work competition? Easy, the winner gets two days paid time off. In those two days you can catch up on your series, sleep late, enjoy life until work calls again.

The front door opens and a soft "Hello" was heard, looks like your Guinea pig arrived.

"Perfect timing!" You call back and make your way to the door, meeting Kyle halfway there. He's still wearing his jacket and scarf, good to keep warm in such a weather.

"Perfect timing for what?" He smiles down at you, obviously a bit confused, and maybe a tiny bit scared.

"I need a lab rat" You reply, grabbing his hand and dragging him to the kitchen table.

Kyle doesn't even try to fight back or ask, he simply follows as you pull him along. A small huff leaves his lips as you hurry him towards a chair, forcing him to sit down, only then does he dare to removes the scarf and winter jacket.

"I'm scared to ask but..how am i lab rat?" He mumbles and lays the clothes over the chair next to him.

"Easy.." You start talking while grabbing a full plate of a juicy cooked steak with a perfect sear, paired with golden, crispy potatoes, seasoned to perfection. "You have to taste test everything i made today."

At the mere sight of the fresh food his mouth began to water, eyes scanning the masterpiece.

After a short moment of silence he forces his eyes away, looking at you with a cheeky smile. "Everything? There's more?" He asks as he grabs a knife and a fork, immediately digging in.

You bite back a small laugh, nodding your head as you watch him eat. "I made cake..i just need to wait for it too cool down and decorate it, also, i made cupcakes." You smile and walk to the oven, checking on said cake. Finding it perfectly cooked you turn the oven off and grab oven mittens.

As you move the cake from the heat to the counter you hear the sluttiest groan ever. "That good, huh?" You chuckle and look over your shoulder, seeing Kyles eyes closed as he enjoys the steak.

"That has to be the best steak I've ever had..." The steak is so good he forgot his table manners, talking with food in his mouth. "I can't wait to brag about being your first ever taste tester when you start your famous cooking career."

"That's a no for me." You correct, grabbing the icing you made earlier, along with freshly cut strawberry's. "I just want to win a cooking competition to win 2 days paid time off."

"Oh you're winning, don't worry about that." He mumbles and brings another piece of a steak to his lips.

"What's that lovely smell?" A deeper voice comes from the entrance, standing there is John, snow on his hat and shoulders.

"Birdie cooked the best food ever." Kyle calls out before you can explain yourself. A bit of head rushes to your cheeks at the complement.

"I made way too much, so i hope you're hungry." You smile and walk back to the kitchen, grabbing a plate and putting the same food on there as before.

John doesn't even hesitate as he sits down next to the younger man, waiting for you to pass the plate. Just like Kyle, his mouth starts to water at the sight of the steak with the potatoes.

"This looks magnificent." He remarks as you hand him a knife and a fork.

"Taste it first, then you can give me feedback." You smile and get back to the cake, finishing up the icing as you hear another groan from the table. "Don't eat too much, there are two rounds of deserts."

"Two rounds? You're spoiling us, dove" John claims as he continuous to devour his food.

"Not complaining though." Kyle mumbles as he finishes his plate, quickly getting up to put it in the dishwasher. As he gets closer he sees the now finished cake, strawberry's on the top. He smiles and cleans his plate. "Good luck with that cake, it's Johnnys favorite, I'm giving him till midnight until it's fully gone."

"Speaking off, where is he? and Simon?" You question as you cut off two pieces of the cake, putting them on smaller plates and walking back to the table with Kyle.

"Last minute shopping for Tuesday, we have to leave again, remember?" The older man answers as he too finishes his plate, already looking at he cake.

Right. Sometimes you forget they actually have a job when they're at home for more than a week.

"I did forget." You hum and put the two cakes down, watching as both men immediately grab for one.

Like before, both of them groan as they swallow, apparently you're a really good cook. A small yawn escapes your lips, causing both men to look up.

"Getting tired? How long were you in the kitchen for?" Kyle asks, eyes on the clock on the wall.

"A while." You answer, making your way to the couch.

"Don't fall asleep just yet, your sleep schedule is already bad." John calls out as he watches you lay down and pull a blanket over your body.

"Just a few minutes" The words are mumbles, face pressed against a pillow.

The couch sinks near your head, a soft hand landing on your cheek. You've never fallen asleep faster.

"Be quiet." John calls out softly the moment the two missing house members enter through the front door.

Both man freeze mid step. Johnny holding his phone while Simon carries two bags. Not long after do they realize why.

You're asleep, blanket over your body, legs on Johns lap and head resting in Kyles lap, his hand stroking your hair softly.

"Aww.. look at 'er!" Johnny calls out, getting shushed by both men on the couch.

"Foods in the kitchen, she made steak, cupcakes and your favorite cake." John answers and watches the Scot almost run to the kitchen.

"Any special reason why?" Simon asks as he sets down the bags by the the table, quickly sitting down next to Kyle, who rests his head on his shoulder.

"Practicing for a cooking competition at work." Kyle answers and watches as Johnny walks back in with a piece of cake.

"She ruined me foe Military food." he claims, shoving another large bite down his throat.

a/n: not proofread...kinda gave up at the end...＞﹏＜

[velarisdusk]

No Room for Error

Azriel x Reader

word count: 1.5k content: [ explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV, az does not pull out (as is typical with my fics lmao), hate sex, explicit language ] summary: Your heated argument with Azriel during a mission turns into an unexpected, yet not first-time, encounter in a broom closet. author's note: AZ AND Y/N SPIES AZ AND Y/N SPIES AAAAAA i've been wanting to write this one for a while, i'm happy it's finally in existence somewhere outside of my brain and writing drive lol ✦ . Masterlist . ✦

“You really couldn’t wait to make your move, could you?” you snap, frustration leaking into your voice as you shift again, the small space feeling tighter by the second. “We’ve been plotting this mission for months, Azriel.”

“I’m getting the job done, aren’t I?” His tone is dismissive, the usual bite to it harsher. “Maybe if you focused less on talking and more on following orders, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Following orders?” You scoff, pressing back against him involuntarily, even though you’re not sure if you want more space or less. “Maybe you’d actually listen to me if you stopped thinking you know everything.”

“I do know everything,” he growls in your ear, a dark edge to his words that makes something inside you tighten. “But you’re too busy trying to prove me wrong to realize it.”

“I’m not trying to prove you wrong,” you retort, voice sharp as you shift against him again. “You’re just impossible.”

His breath huffs against your skin. “And yet, here we are,” he murmurs, tone low, barely hiding the edge of amusement. “You’re not exactly walking away.”

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter, shifting uncomfortably in the cramped space. “I should’ve completed twice as many missions as you by now. This was supposed to be my assignment, not yours.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Azriel snaps, his voice tight with annoyance, the tension between you both palpable. “Maybe if you didn’t rush into things all the time, you’d actually finish your missions instead of barely scraping by.”

“I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job,” you retort, clenching your teeth as the walls feel like they’re closing in. “I’m just fine without your help, Shadowsinger.” You spit out the title like it’s venom, though the words feel hollow as soon as they leave your mouth. The competition between you two was fierce—always had been.

“It’s not about help,” Azriel mutters, shifting just enough that you feel his presence even closer. “It’s about keeping up. You always think you can do everything on your own, but in the end, you just screw it up. It’s like you're trying to outdo me for the sake of it.”

“Outdo you?” You laugh bitterly, barely able to move without pressing into him. “I’ve been outdoing you for months, Azriel. You’re just too arrogant to see it.”

His laugh is low and dark. “If you were outdoing me, we wouldn’t be stuck in this closet right now, would we?”

“Oh, you think this is my fault?” You almost scoff, your words dripping with irritation, but the heat between you is undeniable now, thick with more than just frustration. “Maybe if you didn’t play the lone wolf every damn time, we wouldn’t be here.”

“I didn’t play ‘lone wolf,’” he growls. “You’re just too proud to accept I’m better at this than you.”

Your hand moves, fumbling to adjust—or maybe to steady yourself—and the shift in position has Azriel’s breath catching. The sound sends a rush of heat through you, though you’re still unwilling to admit it aloud.

“Better than me?” you ask, voice dropping dangerously low, your lips curling into a sharp, humorless smile. “That’s rich, coming from someone who’s been riding my coattails for months. Admit it, Azriel, you can’t stand that I’m winning.”

His hand tightens at your waist, and his next words are spoken with deliberate, biting calm. “Winning? You’re delusional. You’ve never beaten me, and you never will.”

Your lips part for another retort, but the words die on your tongue, the sound morphing into a moan as he moves. The shift in position presses him against you in a way that makes your breath hitch, his body hitting that spot deep inside you.

A faint sound of footsteps outside the closet snaps you back to reality. You barely have time to register it before Azriel’s hand is covering your mouth, his fingers warm and firm against your lips, stifling any sound you might make. His other hand grips your hip harder, pulling you even closer as he continues to thrust into you, each movement making you feel him deeper, the rhythm brutal and unforgiving.

“Do you want them to hear you?” he growls low in your ear, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “Want to fuck up the mission? Want to give us away?” His voice is tight with barely-contained pleasure, his breath hot against your neck. “You better keep quiet, sweetheart. We can’t afford mistakes.”

You can feel the cold leather of your pants bunched up at your thighs, the heat of his body pressing against you, the sensation of him pushing against you with every thrust, sending jolts of pleasure that make it even harder to keep silent. Your body trembles beneath him, every instinct screaming for release, but the fear of getting caught only makes the tension sharper. 

A desperate whine escapes from your throat, muffled by his hand, and you feel him pause. The sound of footsteps somewhere outside the closet slows, a beat of silence hanging heavy in the air. His breath hitches slightly, but his grip moves up to your waist, and then, in one fluid motion, he presses his hips harder against you.

“Am I going to have to tell Rhys that you cost us months of work?” His words are a dark tease, but the edge of warning lingers in his voice. He pulls back, only to thrust forward again, his hips grinding into yours with slow, powerful force, each movement designed to make you feel every inch of him, to make sure you can’t forget for a second what’s happening. “Think about that, sweetheart. All of this… for nothing.”

Your breath catches as he shifts again, his rhythm turning into something deeper, more intense. The tight space only heightens the feeling of him—every inch of his body pressed against yours, making it impossible to escape the raw heat between you. He grinds into you again, his control slipping as the pressure mounts, but his voice stays dangerously low.

The footsteps outside fade, growing softer as they move away from the door. Azriel’s grip loosens slightly, and he pulls his hand from your mouth, his breath ragged against your skin. You can’t hold back anymore. 

“Please, Azriel, don’t stop, I need it,” you whine, the words slipping out before you can stop them, desperate for more. 

His response is immediate, cold, and calculating. “You don’t need anything. You want it.” His tone is firm, void of any tenderness. “You always want more, don’t you?”

Before you can answer, he shifts again, thrusting into you with a deep, controlled force that makes your body seize in response. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, using the grip to pull you onto him again and again.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, voice low but commanding, “do you always beg like this? Is this how you get Rhys to give you assignments I’m the obvious choice for? Or am I the only one who gets to see this side of you?”

Your heart races, his words swallowing you whole. But you’re beyond caring now, beyond anything but the feeling of him inside you. His hips grind into you with a brutal, possessive rhythm, and you can’t help but let out a moan, your back arching as you press against the wall. You can feel the pressure building, every part of you straining for release, but his control is absolute, keeping you on the edge, making you ache with every moment. You know you can’t hold back much longer. 

With a final, deep thrust, he shudders, his body tightening as he finishes inside you. His breath is heavy, ragged against your neck, and he pauses, just for a moment, as if to savor the feeling of you beneath him. 

Azriel pulls out slowly, his movements deliberate, and you feel a brief emptiness where he was. Without a word, he tucks himself back into his pants with calm efficiency, as if there were nothing out of the ordinary. 

“Pull your pants up,” he says, his tone cool, detached. There’s no hint of the intensity from moments ago, as if he can shut it off in an instant. 

You blink, the haze of pleasure clouding your mind as you slowly process his words. What? You’re still trying to make sense of everything when he pulls back as far as the cramped broom closet allows, glancing at you with that unreadable expression. 

“We’ve got shit to do,” he shrugs, voice colder now, businesslike. “Maybe I’ll stop by your room tonight.” There’s a dangerous flicker in his eyes as he says it, but it’s gone before you can even react. 

He opens the closet door and steps out, holding a hand out to you. You hesitate for a moment, still reeling, but you take his hand, letting him pull you back out into the hall. 

[yapihapi]

You’ve been the perfect student ever since kindergarten. The school has been blessed to have you—student leader, consistent top achiever, and the school’s pride in academic competitions. Medals, awards—you’ve brought home so many. You’ve always been outstanding.

But then Nagi transferred to your school. Suddenly, everything changed.

It felt like you were perpetually in second place, and no matter what you achieved, there was always this gnawing feeling of inadequacy.

Even when the list came out, showing that you scored higher than him, it didn’t feel like a win. He always did it so effortlessly.

You sat in the front row, dedicated, writing notes and reviewing endlessly. But when you glanced at Nagi in the back, you’d always catch him sleeping at his desk, oblivious to the world. It frustrated you to no end.

During quizzes and exams, he’d still get high marks, but his carefree attitude made it seem unfair. While you sacrificed sleep and poured every ounce of energy into studying, he simply coasted. Yet he remained unbothered, like he wasn’t trying at all.

You were jealous.

Nagi noticed your furrowed brows whenever your eyes met, but he didn’t understand why. You’d never even spoken to each other. To him, you were the model student—perfect, composed, and untouchable. But he was just that guy in the back of the class, minding his own business.

When midterms came, the pressure was unbearable. You spent endless hours reviewing and juggling your responsibilities. The weight of expectations, the relentless need to prove yourself—it consumed you.

Then came the exam day. You answered the test quickly, confident in your preparation. But as you handed in your paper, you noticed Nagi did the same, just minutes after you. You glanced at him in disbelief. Was he really that gifted, or was it luck?

As the class emptied, you stayed behind to pack your things. Nagi lingered too, his feet propped up on a chair, phone in hand, looking as relaxed as ever.

Then it happened—a sudden, warm sensation in your nose.

“Huh?” you muttered as you touched your upper lip. Blood.

Nagi furrowed his brows when he glanced at you. He put down his phone, grabbed tissues from his bag, and rushed to your side.

“Here,” he said softly, handing you the tissues.

You stared at him, startled by his uncharacteristic concern. He didn’t stop there. Gently, he guided you to the clinic, one hand lightly supporting your arm.

At the clinic, the nurse tended to you, cleaning you up and ensuring you were fine. Once everything was settled, you stepped out, adjusting your bag and ready to head home.

You stopped in your tracks when you saw him. Nagi was leaning against the wall just outside the clinic, a lollipop in his mouth. He wasn’t looking at you, his gaze lost somewhere on the ceiling, deep in thought.

You tried to walk past him, hoping to avoid an awkward interaction, but after a few steps, he spoke.

“Why do you despise me so much?”

You froze, his question hanging in the air. Slowly, you turned around, meeting his confused gaze.

“I don’t hate you,” you said coldly, though your voice wavered. “I’m… jealous of you.”

His confusion deepened. “Jealous?”

You sighed, the weight of your feelings spilling out. “You’re so good at academics, but you barely try. I work myself to exhaustion, and I still feel like it’s not enough. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat—I have to push myself because of the standards I’ve set. Then you come along, doing the bare minimum, and it makes me feel… small. Like I’m stupid.”

He blinked, stunned into silence.

“I just wanted to feel like I was enough,” you continued, voice trembling. “But when you showed up, it felt like I had to work even harder just to keep up. I’ve never felt this way before.”

Nagi scratched the back of his neck, unsure of what to say. “I… I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” you replied quickly. “This is childish. I shouldn’t even feel this way.”

You turned to leave, but his hand caught your wrist.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. Honestly, I kind of disliked you too at first. I thought you were just a spoiled rich girl who had everything handed to her. But I didn’t realize…” He trailed off, exhaling deeply. “You really do deserve the top spot. I don’t even care about ranks—” He paused, muttering to himself. “Why am I even explaining this?”

You gave a small nod, avoiding his gaze. “I see,” you said quietly, the bitterness still lingering in your voice as you turned away.

The rest of the school year didn’t go as you expected. Somehow, you and Nagi became close. He wasn’t as infuriating as you’d thought—laid-back, yes, but also oddly insightful in his own way. The tension between you hadn’t completely disappeared, but it had softened into something more tolerable, almost unspoken.

One afternoon, you found yourself sitting beside him on a bridge, both of your feet dangling over the edge.

“Do you always come here?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” you replied, staring at the horizon. “It helps me clear my mind.”

The golden sunlight bathed your face, softening your usually sharp features. For the first time, Nagi saw you relaxed—genuinely at peace.

He watched you, noticing details he’d overlooked before. The way your hair caught the sunlight, the faint curve of your lips when you smiled. It struck him.

“You know,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper, “I think you’re amazing. Not because of your grades or your accomplishments. Just… you.” He hesitated, his gaze softening. “But you should take care of yourself more. You push yourself so hard, and you don’t deserve to burn out trying to meet everyone else’s expectations.”

You turned to him, startled by his sincerity. His words lingered in the air, disarming you. For once, the competition didn’t matter. Sitting there with him, bathed in the warmth of the setting sun, you felt a sense of calm settle over you—a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a long time. It was strange, but for the first time, you didn’t feel the need to prove anything.

And maybe, just maybe, the one-sided rivalry had finally come to an end. It wasn’t about winning or losing anymore, but about understanding. You realized that chasing perfection wasn’t the only way to prove your worth, and perhaps Nagi wasn’t the antagonist you made him out to be. Instead, he was someone who challenged the way you saw yourself—someone who, without meaning to, helped you see things differently.

[azzifuddfanpage]

so competitive

————

hi guys new fic! Thanks for the prompt: Smut since they are both so competitive, maybe like them competing to see who can get each other off faster or more?

2.5k words tw: hella smut

theme: competitive gfs

————

Azzi reclined her seat as far as it went.

“No way you are actually going to sleep right now.” Paige huffed in disbelief reaching over and tugging at one of Azzi’s braids. 

“I told you, if you were gonna spend all your time talking to her tonight… you’re not getting nothing.” Azzi pouted, closing her eyes and angling herself so she was facing the window. 

Paige glanced away from the road to look at the lump beside her. 

“First of all, she was literally my trainer Azzi. Second of all, you know damn well you won’t last long, you know I always make you finish fast.” Paige teased, rubbing her hand along her thigh, listening to Azzi’s breath shift as it grew closer to where she needed her most. 

Azzi snorted, “wanna bet?” She said competitively, sizing her up as they pulled into the driveway of their dorm. 

“I bet I can make you finish faster.” Azzi said, grabbing Paige's hand and moving it upward so it was resting on her breast. 

Paige looked over, gulping as she could feel Azzi’s hardened nipple through the thin material of her tank top. 

Her lips curved into a smile as she let herself squeeze the fatty tissue a little, smirking as Azzi let out a breathy moan. 

“Oh trust me. I know I can make you finish first.” Paige said confidently, rubbing her finger over her nipple that was now poking through her  shirt. 

“Alright we will see about that.” Azzi said smartly, shoving Paige's hand away and climbing out of the car.

When they got up to the dorm, Paige shoved Azzi onto her bed, and locked the door behind them.

“Alright wait.” Azzi started, putting a finger against Paige's needy lips before she was able to go to work on her. “We need some ground rules.” She continued. “We can each make one move, we go for the same amount of time, and then we will see who cums first.” Azzi finished running her finger along Paige's bottom lip and  pulling it down gently. 

Paige licked her finger and sucked it into her mouth seductively, letting her cheeks hollow out as she bobbed up and down on it, coating it fully in her saliva. 

“Deal, but only cuz I know ur not gonna wanna wait.” Paige smirked, pulling her mouth off her finger and admiring it as it glistened in the light. 

Azzi felt her knees grow weak under her- no way was she gonna give in this soon.

“Alright- my turn.” Azzi said, sitting up in the bed so she was facing her. 

Azzi moved towards her, pushing her down so she was on the bed, she slid her hands under her shirt and felt herself come in contact with her hardened nipples. 

“No bra huh?” Azzi teased, rolling one under her fingers, watching as Paige's eyes rolled back. 

“Take it off Paigey.” She whispered in her ear. 

Paige almost gave in but remembered how worth it would be to win….

“Hey no, it’s my turn now, you touching me was your turn.” Paige said, shoving Azzi’s hands away from her, fighting the bubbling urges in her panties. 

“Bruh.” Azzi said irritably, glaring at Paige as she smirked at her. 

“Don’t bruh me, princess.” She said, leaning over her and sucking on the sweet spot on her neck. 

“You know I know you better than anyone baby.” Paige said in between sucks, placing soft kisses along her jawline.

“Wild you would even wanna make a bet wit me when you know what I can do to you.” She paused, pulling the collar of Azzi’s shirt lower so she could press a kiss lower on her neck. “The way I can make you moan like no one else is in the dorm.” then another one over her clavicle. 

“The way I-“ Azzi squirmed under Paige, cutting her off. 

“Alright alright- times up.” She said laughing at the way Paige's eyes were completely dilated for her and her a trial of spit was connecting to her chest. 

Azzi ran her fingers through paige’s hair, trying to forget the need that was building in her core, and she hovered her lips over paige’s, watching as paige puckered hers for her so needily. 

Azzi smirked, giving in and mushing their lips together, letting her tongue slide out and run over Paige's lip begging for entry. 

Paige obliged, letting her lips part gently so Azzi could slide her tongue in and massage it against Paige's. 

The sounds of their wet tongues working against each other filled the air.

Azzi was so turned on, she couldn’t even think straight, unintentionally moving her leg which just happened to be between paige’s. 

Her knee dug into Paige's crotch, and Paige let out a sharp moan at the unexpected pressure on her clothed pussy. 

“Fuck” paige groaned, letting herself grind down on Azzi’s thigh for a moment, before regrettably pulling off. 

“Only one thing I said-“ Paige growled wrapping her hand teasingly around Azzi’s throat- gently so she wouldn’t hurt her.” Azzi smirked under her, proud of how worked up she was.

“Paige moved her hand down and let it travel down to her waist band, and moved her finger letting it rub against the edge, traveling her fingers down the seam. 

“Need you to be a good girl az and follow the rules.” Paige said, watching as Azzi’s head lulled back as Paige's fingers grazed over her clothed center. 

“Fuck.” Azzi groaned. 

Paige smirked, noticing azzis reaction, clearing a mixture of the added pressure and her words. 

“You like that baby.” Paige tested, moving her lips down so they were pressing into her lower stomach above her waist band. 

“You like it when I tell you how good you are, pretty girl?” She asked, running her fingers up and down Azzi’s inner thighs.

“Fuck paige, you feel so good.” Azzi moaned, feeling Paige's words go directly into her core. 

“I know baby- you like it when I talk to you like this don’t you.” She started, moving her fingers back up over her pussy, and back to the waist band to toy with it. 

Azzi was about to surrender, give in to the praise, but pulled herself away. 

“You really didn’t think you would win that easily.” Azzi laughed as Paige's fingers danced  at the distance between them, needing to be against Azzi’s heat.

Azzi straddled Paige, letting herself grind down on her, rubbing her clothed pussy against Paige's.

Paige let out a shaken breath as Azzi moved her hips.

Azzi smirked at Paige's needy reactions, grabbing her knee and propping it up so their legs were interwoven together and they were practically riding each other.

“Fuck- love it when you touch me like that pretty.” Paige groaned as the breath she was holding released.

Azzi felt herself melt under Paige's words. 

She whined a little, blushing as Paige's glossy eyes scanned over her.

“Shit you really like it when I baby you don’t you.” Paige tested, moving her hands so they were preventing Azzi from grinding against her pussy, but instead onto her hand. 

“You fucking slut.” Paige laughed as she could feel her wetness through the tight material of Azzi’s leggings. 

“You’re such a sucker for praise aren’t you baby.” Paige said, rubbing her fingers against Azzi’s heat, listening as Azzi moaned loudly. 

Paige chuckled, grabbing at Azzi’s back and pulling her closer to her chest, whispering into her ear, “you can give in whenever baby- lemme feel you.” 

Azzi let out another moan, feeling the wetness between her thighs increase. 

Azzi nodded reluctantly, letting Paige pull off her pants.

“Your turn.” She said, stubbornly.

Paige smirked, 

“Only one who can touch me pretty.” She teased, pulling off her pants and boxers so she was completely naked.

Azzi moaned at the sight of her naked cunt.

“Wanna taste you so bad.” Azzi whined under her gaze.

“I know baby- why don’t you just be a good girl for mommy and let me win and then you can taste me all you want.” 

Azzi rolled her eyes defiantly, even though all she wanted to do was feel Paige's sopping cunt against her lips. 

Paige leaned forward placing her hand against the soft flesh of Azzi’s pussy, gently running it through her folds.

She pulled her fingers back, separating them in front of Azzi’s face, letting her watch as the cum dripped down in front of them. 

“I know no one makes you like I do.” Paige smirked, moving the fingers towards Azzi’s mouth.

Azzi obliged, sucking down on them, moaning as she tasted herself on Paige's fingers.

Paige smirked as Azzi ran her tongue over them, flicking it against her, letting her spit spill down the side of Paige's finger.

Paige made eye contact with her, focusing on her movements, and bringing her spit coated finger to her own mouth, sucking it gently.

Azzi moaned, watching her.

Paige smirked, grabbing her hips and grinding her down against her bare clit. 

Both girls let out a loud moan at the contact, moaning as their pussies melded together. 

Paige’s hips bared down on Azzi’s, feeling as their clits pushed together.

“You feel so good baby.” Paige whined, applying more pressure to Azzi’s hips so she was rubbing against her at a harder angle.

Azzi replied with a gentle moan, feeling their slick grow between them.

“Turn around.” Paige said confidently, stopping herself from grinding into Azzi. 

Azzi was confused, her hips hovering over Paige's, desperate for more contact.

“I’m not gonna say it again. Turn around.” Paige ordered softly, moving her hands so Azzi could turn around on her.

“Now we really will see who finishes first.” Paige said teasingly, running her fingers against Azzi’s ass which was now in her face. 

Azzi moaned, realizing what Paige was trying to do.

She looked in front of her at Paige's throbbing cunt. 

She backed herself up, inching her own pussy up to Paige's mouth, feeding it to her, as she bent down to lick at Paige's. 

Paige let out a moan at the contact, sending a rush of cool air into Azzi’s cunt.

Paige grubbed at Azzi’s hips as Azzi’s lips attached around her soaking clit. 

Paige moaned loudly into azzi, running her fingers against her core, pressing a kiss at her entrance.

Azzi felt the warmth of Paige's tongue against her hole, leaning forward she ran her fingers through Paige's slick as her tongue flicked against her clit.

Paige, behind her, followed her every movement, puppeting what she did and attacking her pussy with her mouth.

Paige shook her head against her, letting her tongue wiggle against her pussy, feeling Azzi squirm under her.

Paige slipped her tongue inside Azzi, feeling around her warm cervix, as she separated her ass with her hands.

Azzi moaned into her clit, causing Paige to speed up, thrusting her tongue in and out of Azzi.

“Fuck I love it when you touch me like that.” Azzi whined, running her fingers against Paige, and slipping them into her hole to keep up with Paige's motions.

Paige's legs spread farther apart at the contact, feeling Azzi thrust against her. She moaned, sending vibrations through Azzi’s cunt. 

Azzi felt herself getting worked up, the feeling of paige fucking into her, causing her to push harder agaisnt paige, driving her fingers deeper into her.

Paige moaned, speeding up her own pace, fucking her tongue into her harshly, and moving her thumb to massage her clit. 

Neither of them would cum until the other did. 

“Fuck I honestly don’t know if I can hold it much longer.” Azzi said disappointedly, not wanting to lose, but the pressure against her clit, feeling of Paige's tongue hitting deep against her walls, and the taste of Paige's cum was all too much for her.

“Fuck me either baby.” Paige responded, her breath coming out in gasps as she pulled her tongue out and lapped up some of the cum that was spilling out.

Before Azzi could catch her breath, and focus on pleasing Paige, Paige's fingers dove back into her, thrusting into her with such speed that Azzi’s fingers gripped at Paige's walls to stabilize herself, hitting her g spot as she did.

Paige moaned, feeling her walls tighten as her fingers pounded into Azzi’s pussy.

Azzi could feel Paige tighten around her fingers, it getting harder to thrust in and out. 

Paige sped up to get Azzi to the same place, her cunt sucking in her fingers graciously. 

Paige pulled away to look at the way Azzi’s cunt absorbed Paige's fingers, sucking them in with every thrust, the squelching sounds of their fingers diving into one another, filling the air.

As Paige let out a yelp feeling her cum start to ooze out of her, Azzi’s legs started to shake with an overpowering orgasm of her own. Paige moaned, thrusting her fingers hard against her, Azzi’s too working hard.

Both girls released at the same time, fucking the cum out of each other.

Paige removed her hand from Azzi’s cunt, using her mouth to lick the cum up from her, savoring every last drop. 

Azzi followed suit, slurping up the white syrup that had poured out of the girl moments before. 

They lay there for a moment, catching their breath, Azzi’s ass still in Paige's face, and her face lying against her pelvic bone, hovering dangerously close to her aggravated cunt.

Paige let out a laugh. “Well I guess we are both just too damn stubborn to have a winner.” She paused. “I guess we will have to settle for a draw.” 

Azzi laughed. “I don’t know, felt like you might have came a little before I did.” She teased. Paige smacked her ass gently, pulling her off her so she was lying next to her.

“Whatever, at least I’m not the one with the praise kink, “good girl”.” Paige teased as Azzi’s face turned a shade of red.

Paige traced over her dimples as Azzi smiled bashfully.

“It’s a good thing you’re cute, or you wouldn’t even have had a chance.” 

“Ya right, p, you were moaning just as I was.” 

They returned into a heap of giggles, and Azzi snuggled up against her, laying her head over her chest, tracing her name into her stomach.

“Even though I beat you, I know you still make me cum really well. So don’t let this L make you feel insecure.” Azzi said quietly. 

Paige laughed, shoving her head playfully. “Yeah alright big head, rematch tomorrow and we will see who’s talking then.” Paige teased, nuzzling herself against her and letting the night wash over her. 

[takimakiiiii]

The Adventures of Loverboy and Twinkle Toes ~

lando norris x driver!female & platonic!grid x reader

angst, fluff, more angst with a dash of extra angst + established relationship + breakup 

¡happy ending! dw, i’m not that mean

TW: swearing/profanity, bullying

WC: around 1k-ish?

disclaimer!: not all of these stats are accurate and the timeline doesn’t stick to the 2019 as it had to change for the story also the drivers had to be shuffled around for the story to make sense. basically it’s a big of a mess ALSO THERE IS USE OF Y/N IN THIS FIC

a/n: this has been sitting in my notes app for the last few month cuz i got bored one night at 3am

ALSO THE STARTING IS SO CHEESY SO LIKE BARE WITH ME IT GETS BETTER I SWEAR 😭

also with the driving parts it’s so bad okay I don’t even know what I’m talking and so pls don’t hate on me 

sorry if it’s so bad I just wanted to finally post this so it doesn’t die w me in my notes app

<—————————————————————————————————>

You first met Lando Norris at the ripe age of 8 and my god was he an asshole. A constant pain in the ass, he attended the same private British school you did in Bristol, an academy for only the brightest and well, richest in the country.

Lando Norris’s family was a wealthy and famous one too, it wasn’t a secret. Yours, on the other hand wasn’t, and that too wasn’t much of a secret either. You’d gotten a scholarship to attend the academy after winning a competition. And from the minute you stepped into the school Lando Norris never failed to make you feel like you didn’t belong there. 

You came from a line of mechanics and at a young age your Father got you into karting. And it was clear you had a talent for it.

Well as expected, it didn’t sit well with Lando, you were the only girl. It didn’t sit well with any of the boys who you karted with. That brought along of other things too, you were treated like a boy, something that you’d come to expect whenever you stepped onto the track. The boys would call you horrible names, something such a young girl shouldn’t be hearing, they’d belittle your wins and make you feel like shit.

You were a girl who’d fallen for a boy’s sport. 

Something Lando would constantly remind you over and over again - that you didn’t belong there. Not at the fancy rich academy and definitely not on the race track. Only to make matters worse, he was incredible at karting. By the time you were both seniors at the academy he was already well on his way to the glory of F1.

Yet somehow you both were always the ones battling in that final lap, perhaps that’s what made him hate you so much was because you offered something no one else could:  competition. 

“Hey Twinkle Toes, you’ve got balls coming back onto the track after what you pulled last time.” a voice cut through the silence of the garage.

That same voice that had been annoying you for years on end, snapped you from your train of thought. You looked up and saw Lando pulling his gloves on, looking down on you as you sat on the steps of the garage. Something inside you began to tick, like a bomb about to go off. 

He was referring to your last competition in which you’d pushed him off the track, unintentionally of course but he didn’t see it that way. He’d had a good yell at you afterwards in front of everyone, embarrassing you in front of all the other boys too. You clenched your fists as you stood up, yet his height was unmatched as you glared up at him. You hoped your face was able to match up the words that were about to leave your mouth. 

“Yeah? Well at least I have balls dipshit.” you retorted angrily as you picked your helmet up from the stairs. 

You turned around and he was now closer, a few mere centimetres away from your face. You nearly caught yourself jumping in surprise but managed to keep a collected face as he spoke. 

“If you try that again today you’re going to wish you never stepped foot onto that track. Got it, Twinkle Toes?” his voice was laced with poison as he stared straight down at you. You stared back into his deep green eyes that seemed to glint with a harshness you’d grown to hate. You poked your inner cheek as you bit back an insult, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. 

“Whatever you say, Loverboy.” you replied with a humorous chuckle as you walked past him. You could basically feel the anger radiating off him as you exited the garage, heading in the direction of the track as your pulled your helmet on. 

<—————————————————————————————————>

“What? Do you think you’re better at karting than me?” Lando asked as he lowered himself to your level, you were still sitting at your desk. His hands were down on the wooden table as he glowered down at you. Class had just finished for lunch and to explain it briefly - Lando wasn’t happy how the race had ended that weekend. 

“I don’t think I’m better than you, Lando Norris. I know I am. So why don’t you stop being such a dramatic prick and leave me alone.” you shot back with a smile, knowing that would piss him off. You picked up your books and stood up, he did the same, now towering over you once again. You could feel his eyes on you as you pulled your bag off the chair. 

“You’re so full of yourself, you don’t belong here Twinkle Toes, you never have and you never will. You’re a fucking outsider.” he replied, you swallowed hard, letting out a shaky breath. You knew you shouldn’t take his dumb remarks to heart but the words would often eat you alive because deep down you knew he was right. Surrounded by all these rich kids with their rich parents, compared to them you were absolutely nothing. 

“Fuck you, Norris.” you spat, inhaling slowly, looking away so he couldn’t see the tears welling up in your eyes. 

“Go cry about it.” 

And that’s how you found yourself sobbing in the bathrooms during lunch. 

You could hear hushed whispers outside of the stall as other girls walked in and out of the bathroom. You knew they could hear you crying, yet none of them had the decency to even ask if you were okay. Rich British  people were just like that, you guessed as you wiped your face with the back of your hand. 

“Is someone crying in there?” a girls voice whispered in a hushed tone outside of the stall, you could see two pairs of black shoes and white socks from underneath the door. 

“Yeah. I think it’s-“ the other girl replied, voice dropping low out of earshot. There were more hushed whispers before you heard one last remark.

“He’s such an asshole.” 

That, you could agree on. 

There was a moment of silence before a gentle knock came through from the other side of the door. Your heart jumped in your chest as you stared at the stall door, the girls on the other side still unknown.

“Hey girl? You okay in there?” one of the girls asked. You weren’t sure how to answer so you got to your feet and slowly unlocked the stall door. It swung open to reveal two girls, one a tall sun kissed girl with beautiful braids. The other, a pretty asian girl you recognised from French class, her name was Lisa or something. 

“Hi.” you finally said. There was a long dreading moment of silence as you waited for them to laugh in your face but it didn’t come. 

“It was what’s his name, Lanky Norris or something, right? He likes to pick you on, doesn’t he?” the tall girl asked, you instantly liked her. You let out a laugh through tears, the two girls smiled, success clear on their faces. 

“Yeah.” you nodded, wiping your face for any stray tears that still lingered on your cheeks. 

“He’s so annoying, the only reason he’s here is because his Daddy’s rich, ya know?” she grimaced as she crossed her arms.

“You’re also here because of your Daddy’s money, Sandy.” Lisa reminded her with a gentle nudge, you let out a laugh at Sandy’s frown. 

“Okay, calm your farm, girl. I’m trying to insult him to make our new friend here feel better.” she shot back, throwing an incredulous look your way as she shook her head. 

Lisa held her hands up in defence with a grin on her face. 

“Okay, okay. Well, Y/N, let’s get you out of here and get you something to eat.” she suggested. The two girls pulled you out from the bathroom stall and you left the bathroom with two new friends and a smile.

<—————————————————————————————————>

Lando had heard the rumours going around, two popular girls he wasn’t a big fan of had found you in the girl’s bathroom crying. He knew he was the one at fault for that, Lando knew you weren’t as strong as you came off to be. But he always let his pride and selfishness take over because the truth was you were right, you were better than him. And he knew it too. 

And that’s what pissed him off the most is that you were and would always be better than him. Not only at karting, in school and everything else too. 

He guessed he owed you an apology, the hard truth was that he sort of admired your strength, you weren’t as strong as you came off to be because you were much more stronger. He’d seen you be treated badly by most of the other boys on the track, but he was too much of a coward to stick up for you because that would mean his feelings for you would be obvious. If only you knew-

“What do you want, Norris?” 

He stopped in his tracks oblivious to the fact that he’s stopped right next to your locker. His palms instantly became clammy like they did each time he saw you as he attempted to find his words that had gotten caught in his throat. 

“I didn’t- I mean- “ he stumbled on his words, mentally cursing himself as he made a fool of himself in front of you.

You let out a scoff as you shut your locker door with a loud SLAM, gaining the attention of other students who lingered around, their eyes floating toward you both. Lando flinched from the sound, becoming aware of the surrounding eyes.

“Save it. Your words mean nothing but shit to me.” you spat angrily. 

Lando stood defeated as he watched you walk away. His heart was beating loudly in his ears, his mind was telling him to do something, but what? He didn’t know. 

“I’M SORRY!” he yelled at the top of his voice before he lost the courage to do anything at all. Everyone in the hallway stopped to stare at him. If people hadn’t been interested, they sure were now. A scarlet red hue appeared across his face as you slowly turned and walked up to him, a giant grin on your face. 

“What’d you say? I don’t think I heard it the first time?” you held your hand to your ear, propping up on your heels. He let out a sigh, you could be a big pain in the ass when you wanted to be. Yet he could still fell his heart beating ever so loudly in his chest.

“I’m sorry.” he mumbled, aware of all the eyes now watching you both. 

“Didn’t catch that, wanna repeat it one more time?” you asked, a smile pulling at your lips as you leaned closer which only made his face redder. 

“Fine. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said all those thing. It was dumb and fucking stupid. You do belong here, hell you’re probably the only one who does, you didn’t use your parents money to get here unlike the rest of us. So, I’m sorry. You don’t deserve all of the shit I’ve put you through the last few years.”

You pulled away, staring him in the eyes you nodded. A silent thank you. 

“It’s alright, Norris. It’s no secret i’m better than you anyways.” you chimed with a laugh. Lando felt his heart flutter as your laugh echoed through the hallway. 

“C’mon, we have English class.” you turned on your heel and that’s all it took for Lando to follow after. 

<—————————————————————————————————>

School passed in a quick intense blur as both you and Lando graduated in no time. A couple months after becoming close friends you’d gotten together, a bit of a shock to everyone at school who’d only ever seen you fighting before. Especially Lisa and Sandy, whom you were still close with despite your busy schedule now.

Your relationship with Lando was going great, both of you had slowly moved from the ranks of F4 to F3 to F2 and now you were both at the age of 19 soon to make your F1 debuts. 

Lando had signed with McLaren, a team he’d had close ties with ever since he was a teenager his father was a close associate with Zak Brown. Lando alongside Carlos Sainz were to be the 2019 McLaren team. 

You, on the other hand had signed with Ferrari, a big dream ever since you were a young kid. You were going to be driving with Charles Leclerc, a guy who was like a god to your family. You’d be driving alongside some of the greatest drivers of all time, Lewis Hamilton, Max Verstappen, Fernando Alonso and many more. 

It was no secret that you were dating Lando, most of the public seemed to take it well and the media weren’t too concerned with trying to pry into your relationship. One thing you were thankful for. Yet you were oblivious to the fact that it might change once everything started in F1.

You knew with Formula 1 more obstacles would come your way and attempt to break you and Lando’s relationship, you just hoped it would be enough to stand it all.

“Hey love? You alright?” Lando’s voice sailed across the living room of your parents’ house from the kitchen. Your silence when he asked a question prompted him to check if you were okay.

“Yep.” you quickly replied, laughing when Lando poked his head from around the corner for the sole purpose to raise his eyebrows at you. 

“You sure? Wanna talk about it?” he offered, walking over to you and joining you on the couch. You smiled as you pressed up against him, pecking him gently on his cheek. 

“Just thinking about what it’ll be when the season starts.” you told him as he wrapped his arms around you, allowing you to lean against him. His touch allowing a sense of peacefulness in the moment making you believe it would be okay. 

“Me too. It’s kinda of scary isn’t it? Everything we dreamt of is coming true.” Lando mused as he leant his head down against yours. You let out a gentle exhale, “Yeah.”

There was a long moment of calm silence as you both sat there in the comfort of one another. Lando drew circles on your palm with his fingers as you closed your eyes. 

“But. . .?” Lando offered, looking down at you with a soft smile. You chuckled, “You know me so well.” you grinned as you nestled your face in the crook of his neck.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asked. 

You let out another sigh as you pulled away facing the tv that was playing FRIENDS. 

“It’s nothing, really. I’m just scared of what might happen to. . . us. You know? I’ve seen what can happen to couples when their lives are shoved into the spotlight.” you held your breath as you looked up at him, awaiting his reaction. 

He gently rested his head on yours again, relieving the tightness inside you. 

“That’s not going to happen to us, I promise, Twinkle Toes. I trust you, I trust us. I always have. Whatever happens we’ll get through it together” he assured you with such certainty it nearly made you believe him. You smiled, he always managed to make your heart flutter no matter how long you’d been together. The chemistry had managed to continue after all these years was unmatched.

“I love you, Loverboy.”

“Love you more, Twinkle Toes.”

<—————————————————————————————————>

“ITS LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO.”

Your heart jumped inside your chest as you hit the accelerator, the car moving forward to your command. It almost didn’t seem real, the loud cheers of the people in the grandstands were one to rival a concert. 

It was the same exhilarating feeling each time you raced, pressure but nonetheless excitement resting on your shoulders. The first few laps went by smoothly, you were in P12 after beginning in P14 after qualifying. Not too bad if you could say so yourself.

Soon enough you found yourself in the second last lap, you were currently in P6 after a spinning out from Daniel Ric took out three other drivers. The commotion after that had lasted quite a while as everyone was forced to wait. But the race still continued,  a certain McLaren was on your tail as you both fought for P6. You were struggling to keep Lando at bay, defence was never one of your strengths. In this case it proved to be a big liability.

The waving checkered flag came around in no time as you and Lando crossed the finish line half a second apart. 

“Who’s pole?” you asked your radio engineer as you pulled off the race track, loud cheers greeting you as you stopped the car.

“Hamilton, P1, Verstappen P2 and Leclerc P3.” your radio engineer replied. 

“Sweet, that’s great for Charles.” you replied, “Good job guys, P6, that’s not half bad.” 

<—————————————————————————————————>

The 2019 Championship went by in a quick exhilarating blur. And so did 2020, 2021 and 2022. Covid posed a problem for a while but everyone managed. Lando and you had been stuck at home focusing on other things, he with his Twitch channel and you on your own things. 

Maybe you chose to ignore it, too focused on your career to pay attention to the cracks that had begun to surface in you and Lando’s relationship. 

So now here you were in off-season awaiting 2023. Both unsure of what to do with each other’s time after being away from one another for so long. 

“Hey, love? You going to come sit down and eat?” Lando’s voice called from the kitchen table. You’d moved in together in an apartment in Monaco not long after your first F1 season. A sense of hopelessness tainted his words, one you chose to ignore. 

“Yep! Give me like one second!” you yelled back from your bedroom. You knew you had to stop pretending everything was fine, it clearly wasn’t and you both knew it too. 

It was the time and the media at fault, something you would constantly tell yourself over and over again. Yet if you really thought about it you could only really blame yourself. There was no use in blaming all of those other things if it was just the two of you in the relationship.

You got up and walked into the dining room, smiling softly upon seeing Lando sitting down already. But the smile wasn’t reciprocated on his face and the one on yours had vanished by the moment you got to the table.

“Y/N, I think we need to talk.” he said gently, looking up at you. You let out a breath one you hadn’t noticed you were holding, nodding as you replied. “Yeah.” you breathed, the shakiness in your voice evident. 

You took a seat across from him and awaited for everything to spill out. 

“What’s been happening? What happened to us?” his simple words hung in silence as you found your own. 

“I don’t - I don’t know.” you admitted, unable to meet his eyes that you knew were filled with disappointment, you stared down at the plate in front of you.

“Then why haven’t we tried to fix it? Is this it? Do you not want to be with me anymore?” he asked, his voice breaking as he looked at you helplessly for your answer. Your heart jumped as you looked up at him, his face breaking your heart as they searched your eyes for an answer.

“No! Lando, of course I want to be with you, I just- I’m scared.” you inhaled, tears stinging the corner of your eyes. Your heart was thumping loud in your chest as you closed your eyes. 

“Scared of what?” Lando asked, reaching his hand across the table to hold yours. You took another breath in. . . and the words slipped out. 

“They want me to take your seat at McLaren.”

“What?”

“No- It’s not what it sounds like, I promise. I just found out, I swear. I was going to tell you when they told me but I-” you stammered as you searched to find some way to salvage from the damage that was now done. 

“When did you find out?” Lando asked, his hand had now retracted from holding yours and now at his side. Your lip wobbled, unable to lie to him you answered, your throat closing in on you. It was something impossible, a change in seats and teams being so close cut to the season? 

It was basically impossible and yet here you were. 

“At the end of last season.” you managed to say as your voice wobbled.

That was well off two months ago. 

You knew you should’ve told him the moment they suggested it to you. It would’ve been the right thing to do but you just could never find a good time to tell him. Yet that was just something you’d told yourself to make it seem better.

Lando let out a scoff, “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, standing out of his chair, a loud scraping noise filled the apartment, dinner on the table long forgotten. You stared up at him, regret tainted your face. 

You stood up too, reaching out for him. 

“I did, I mean I tried to. I just didn’t know how to tell you, they didn’t want me to. I know I should’ve told you. I’m sorry Lan, I really am.” you stammered, tripping over your own words. 

He pulled away from your grasp like you had burnt him. “I thought we were in this together, I trusted us, I thought you did too. But apparently not.”

“No, wait, Lando. Stop, where are you going?” you asked helplessly as you followed him to the door. He grabbed his keys from the kitchen bench, unable to look in your direction as he answered. 

“I have to go. Go somewhere away from you.” 

The front door slammed shut behind him and you collapsed against the wall in a heap of sobs. 

<—————————————————————————————————>

A week passed and Lando didn’t come back home. You called him, texted, all of them going to either voicemail or delivered and unanswered. 

You tried asking the other drivers of the grid whether they’d spoken to him but they all answered with the same thing: that he’d asked them to leave him alone for the time being.

You hated yourself right now. You should’ve told him the moment McLaren offered his seat to you. You had been scared that if he knew he’d leave, and well, keeping it from him resulted in just the same thing you wanted to avoid. 

You wanted to feel mad, mad at him because your selfishness couldn’t help but want to blame him. Yet, you knew it was wrong, the only person at fault was you. So here you sat in the waiting lobby of McLaren, surrounded by so many people who were associates with Lando it made you feel like a fool. You felt as if everyone was staring at you and not only that but judging hard as if they knew what had happened. 

That’s when you spotted him, Lando was walking through the lobby, he was in the same clothes as that night. Your heart dropped as you stood up, unsure of what you were going to say him but you pressed forward. Your footsteps echoed around the lobby as you caught up to Lando who wasn’t yet aware of your presence.

“Lando!” you called, he paused and hesitantly turned around to face you. All those walls you’d broken down throughout the years were now back up again as he stared at you coldly. And it was just like it was back in school, Lando staring down at you as you looked up at him helplessly.

“What are you doing here?” he asked bluntly as he looked pass you, unable to meet your gaze. You swore your heart broke a little when he wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“Please don’t do this, Lando. I know I messed up. I should’ve told you the second they offered the seat to me. I didn’t want to lose you, I thought that if you knew you’d leave.” 

“Well looks like you’ve lost me either way. I don’t care about the seat, Y/N. I care about the fact that you chose to hide it from me, I thought we were in this together.” his eyes flitted from your eyes to away as he took a step backwards. You could feel him slipping from your heart, you reached forward. 

“We can! Please, I promise we can fix this, I can fix this. Just don’t leave me, please.” the words tumbled out of you only to come out as desperate and pathetic. It was wrong, you knew it too. 

“I can’t do this right now, Y/N. I have to go meet Fred Vasseur at Ferrari.”

“Ferrari?”

Lando let out a sigh, stepping past you as he replied.  

“Yeah. Ferrari’s offered me your seat.”

You felt like you’d been kicked in the stomach as you watched Lando walk out the McLaren doors. Tears slipped from your eyes and rolled down your cheeks as you stifled a sob in your hands. You watched him leave, taking your heart with him.

<—————————————————————————————————>

A couple of months later

“Race in 15 minutes.” a voice called in passing as you sat on the steps of your garage. Your eyes floated around to where Oscar stood next to one of the engineers, both peering down at a screen, jabbing at something on it every so often whilst nodding. 

Oscar was the other driver who joined the grid this year to race alongside you with Mclaren. He was a young polite funny Australian guy and from what you’d heard and seen- one of the best drivers of the newest generation. He’d already impressed you before on numerous occasions when you would go with Lando to go watch the F2 races when you got the chance. The two of you would go watch your old buddies race and join them in drinking afterwards. 

“All good.” you replied, anxiousness creeping its way into your voice as you attempted to banish any thought of Lando. You swallowed hard as you pulled your gloves on, hands trembling as they did before any race. 

It was the first race of the 2023 season, there was a new lineup of drivers, some old, some new. Many of the drivers had transferred teams, this included both you and Lando, Carlos, Daniel Riccardo making his comeback and a couple of others. 

You and Lando had both decided to call it quits after the whole thing that went down during the off-season. The other drivers were aware of what had happened and honestly it didn’t take a lot of thinking to put the two things together. You and Lando had swapped seats at Ferrari and McLaren, and alongside it your relationship had crumbled and fallen apart. Charles and Max, the two drivers you were closest with and looked up to like brothers had also provided comfort, saying they would’ve done the same. But you knew it wasn’t true, they just said it to make you feel better. 

You and Lando hadn’t spoken since the day he’d packed everything up and left the apartment. You’d been absent when he’d left. 

Neither of you had the bravery to reach out yet and neither of you could too busy with other things. Yet, two months later you still missed him, longing for his comfort and endless love he’d given you. It made you feel sick, it all felt so misplaced and wrong. 

Both Sandy and Lisa had provided you with solace and comfort with their weekly movie nights at your apartment with buckets of ice cream. But it wasn’t the same, you still felt like you were missing something. Or someone. And either way, it would’ve been Lando. 

Life just felt so wrong without him. There wasn’t anyone to ramble to each time you came back from work, no one to sit down with and watch corny movies with popcorn with. No one to sit on the balcony with and watch the stars late at night, no one to go on day trips to beach with and build sandcastles only for them to be swallowed by the ocean at the end of the day. 

All of those things you’d found within Lando ever since Day 1. He was the person who kept you grounded, the person who’d stay up rubbing circles on your palms late at night when you couldn’t fall asleep or who would keep you company as you cooked in the kitchen.

And all because of a few dumb thoughts you’d lost it all in a mere few days. If you could turn back time you would’ve gone back and fixed everything. Now the only thing you could do was sit and wallow in regret and self pity.

<—————————————————————————————————>

You felt a soft tapping on your helmet, you looked up through the visor of your helmet to see Charles standing next to you, a wide spread grin on his face. 

You broke into a smile as you stood up, pulling your helmet off. 

“Hey old man, what’s up?” you greeted your former teammate with a hug. His smile dropped, replaced with a grimace upon hearing the nickname from you. 

“Came to see you, you traitor. Can’t believe you’d choose this colour over this colour.” he remarked in disgust as he pointed to your suit and then his own.  You had to admit, the bright red did look a lot nicer than the papaya orange you were currently sporting.

“Part of the job, I can’t say no unfortunately. It’ll grow onto me eventually.” you shrugged spreading your arms out and looking down at the papaya coloured suit. 

Charles clicked his tongue dismissively before his expression turned soft, something you’d seen too much of lately. 

“You sure you okay though? Have you spoken to-“ he cleared his throat, leaning in before whispering, “Lando.” like it was some sort of forbidden word. You bit back a laugh. 

“It’s okay you can say his name.” You chuckled, Charles eyed you suspiciously.

“Are you sure? Because the last time I did you cried for 2 hours.” He answered. 

You swatted him defensively, “That was ages ago!”

“That was last week.”

“Whatever.” You huffed, crossing your arms. 

“Will you talk to him?” Charles asked. 

“Nah, it’s fine though, we can’t talk. Not for now at least.” you told him, but your voice was strained as your eyes flickered around the garage. Charles knew you hadn’t taken breaking up with Lando well. As your “older brother” alongside Max the two of them made it their sole mission to keep you from harms way, that being Lando. 

He looked at you with pity, you caught his eye before scoffing. Wallowing in self pity was something you’d done too many times this year. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Charles.” You said, letting out a huff. 

“Like what, Y/N?” he prompted cautiously. You couldn’t get pissed at Charles, he knew it too. After all, that’s what a big brother did, annoy the shit out of you. 

“That you feel bad for me. I’m fine, I swear.” 

But you didn’t believe the words that came out from your mouth either. He chuckled as he ruffled your hair affectionately before you swatted his hand away. 

“I know you are, petite soeur.”

Your nose scrunched up at the nickname Charles had dubbed you ever since your first season. It meant little sister in French or something like that, you were yet to Google it.

He let out one of his contagious laughs before patting you on the back gently, before leaning in and whispering;

“But seriously, if you want Max and I can push him off the track anytime.” 

“Okay, time to go, old man.” you said as you shoved him out the garage door. He rounded the corner with one last dumb grin and salut. 

“See you out there, petite soeur!”

<—————————��———————————————————————>

1 more lap to go. 

You could feel your foot getting a cramp from switching between the accelerator and brake, you could feel beads of sweat rolling down your neck and your breathing was heavy. 

Right next to you, battling for P2 was Lando. Such a coincidence. Thanks universe, you thought as you turned the steering wheel as you rounded turn 3. Max was long gone in the distance probably nearing the checkered flag already leaving the rest of the grid in dust. 

Zhou and Stroll were out already both crashing into the same barriers at turn 7, something you were used to at this point. (IM JOKING, I love them)

In the corner of your eyes you could see and feel Lando closing in on you, pushing you off the track. 

You gripped the steering wheel, turning it in the direction of the Ferrari but he was quick to use this as a chance to slip in front of you as you both rounded a corner. You hit the steering wheel angrily as you watched Lando in front of you. 

A long strand of curse words left your mouth as you crossed the finish line. The FIA was sure to have fun with that.

 Your heart was pounding in your ears loudly as you pulled the car aside to a stop. Your team cheered, you’d gotten on the podium. But it wasn’t a win to you, you’d fallen for Lando’s terribly obvious trap and allowed him to take advantage. You felt like such a fool, he seemed to have that effect on you. 

Thanks, universe, you’re a pain in the ass, you thought as your team surrounded you celebrating loudly. Any thought of Lando disappeared in an instant as you were pulled into hugs from your team and instead replaced with smiles and laughter.

You were pulled up onto the platform next to Max, and Lando whom you avoided interacting with the entire podium stand part. Everything after that was a quick blur until the after race press conference. 

“Here we’re joined by Max Verstappen, Lando Norris and Y/N 

L/N.” 

You forced a smile, honestly the only thing you wanted right now was to be at home eating ice cream with Sandy and Lisa. Or be sleeping, you’d be okay with either of those options. Yet, here you were sitting on a couch alongside your friend and ex-boyfriend in front of a bunch of reporters.

You glanced over at Max who’d thoughtfully placed himself in between both you and Lando. Something you were sure to thank him for afterwards. He sent you a gentle smile, one you returned without hesitation.

The first couple of questions were pretty simple ones, you avoided adding onto Lando’s answers and he to yours and there was no need to. 

That was until a young female reporter took the opportunity to ask about you and Lando’s relationship. Something that caught you unprepared and by surprise.

“So Y/N and Lando,” she began, you could feel your heartbeat spiking as you looked around, every PR training you’d sat through instantly disappearing from your mind. 

“There’s been rumours going around that the seat transition wasn’t something that was thoroughly discussed before the contract signing. Is there something you’d like to add on about this?” 

You swallowed hard as you avoided meeting Lando’s gaze, one you could see in the corner of your eye. 

“N-no comment.” you managed to say.

“Right. So how about you and Lando’s relationship status, there’s been some sources claiming-“

“Okay. I think that’s enough. We’re here to answer questions about the race, nothing else.” Max cut off as he stepped in with a stern voice, one that was sure to make anyone go silent. You prayed to god that no one heard the giant sigh of relief that you let out after Max interjected. You could feel yourself shrinking under the stares of all the reporters and photographers as you sat in front of them. 

The rest of the conference went by in plain awkwardness, answers were now only answered by Max, yet another thing you had to thank him for. 

You finally exhaled as you stepped out of the conference room, Max behind you, Lando had gone out the other door. You leant against the empty corridor wall, head pressed against the cool plaster. 

“That was a nightmare.” you groaned loudly, the exhaustion obvious in your voice. Max let out a sigh as he crossed his arms disapprovingly. 

“That was unacceptable on their side to allow the reporter to keep asking such questions.” Max mused, anger tainted his voice. You let out a laugh as you turned to him. 

“Thanks, Maximilian.” you broke into a grin knowing how much he hated being called that. He huffed disapprovingly, “Maybe next time I wont save your sorry ass.”

“Okay, okay. Calm your farm, pal.” you replied as you both began walking down the corridor headed toward the entrance where there was sure to be a giant crowd waiting. 

“I’ll go get that reporter fired.” Max announced loudly despite it only being the two of you in the corridor. You looked up at him, holding back a laugh despite the look on his face being the opposite.

“Admirable goals, but it’s fine really. I’m sure Twitter will have a fun time tearing her apart.” you waved it off with a gentle smile knowing just how brutal the audience on Twitter could be.

Max chuckled, “Everything else okay though?” You knew instantly what he was talking about, you appreciated the concern, you really did but you could handle yourself. 

Your smile fell, replaced with narrow eyes and a clenched jaw as you eyed him.

“Did Charles put you up to this?” you asked him skeptically, he shook his head. 

“I’m allowed to worry about you too, you know.” he added with a comforting pat on the shoulder. 

“Thanks Maximilian, for everything.” 

“Okay, you can shut up now.”

<—————————————————————————————————>

“Y/N?” 

“One second!” you called, trying to avoid the oil that was spattering into a puddle beside your face. You were currently in your father’s mechanic shop underneath a car working away at it. You were still blowing off steam after the press conference that had happened on the weekend and your father was more than happy to lend you the garage for just that. You knew some part of you wanted Lando to approach you after the race, even if it wasn’t to talk but just to say something, you know? 

But even if he had you were sure how you’d react. 

“Can you pass me the wrench?” you called to the unknown person. You heard a loud clatter of metal before a wrench was stuck in your face. 

“Thanks.” you grumbled as you took it from them, pausing as a shock of realisation hit you. 

Wait, that watch on their wrist.

Your dumbass tried sitting up on the board while still under the car. 

BAM. 

“Ouch, fucking hell.” you swore loudly as you pulled yourself out from underneath the car. Rubbing your forehead in pain as you stood up, before your eyes settled on the person in front of you. 

Your mind blanked as Lando stared back at you. You could see him biting back a laugh at your misfortune. He was in a white shirt, one button too many undone for you to know where this was going. His hands were shoved in his pockets as he stood watching you as you walked his way. 

“Fine. Laugh, you asshole.” you grumbled as you brushed past him. Gripping the wrench in your fist as you held back the strong urge to whack his head in with it. Lando laughed and you’d be lying if the sound of it didn’t still make your insides turn and do flips. 

“Calm down Twinkle Toes, I’m not here to laugh at you. I’m here to . . . apologise.” his tone turning serious, you let out an steady exhale. 

You missed being called that, it was a dumb nickname he’d given you as children, back when you were each other’s biggest rivals on the track. 

Twinkle Toes and Loverboy, a duo to rival Chandler and Joey. Or at least that’s what your dumb asses came up with at the time. 

You let the wrench fall from your grip and onto the bench with a loud metallic clatter, breaking the silence before you spoke. 

“Yeah.” you breathed, staring at the wall in attempt to not let your guard slide down so easily. 

“Want to go for a ride?”

You turned around with a confused expression, eyebrows furrowed and all. Lando stared back at you, heat flushing up your cheeks as a smile tugged at his lips. 

“What?”

“C’mon, Twinkle Toes, let’s get out of here.” he said with a gentle nod of his head in the direction of his car parked outside. 

And that’s all it took for you to drop everything and follow him out the garage. 

<————————————————————————————-—————>

You let out a soft gasp when Lando pulled up at the track where you both used to race on during your karting days. The sun was already beginning to slip back the mountains and buildings and out of view, you bit your lip nervously as you opened the car door. 

Was this right? 

Were you making a big mistake? 

Despite your lingering doubts you followed him onto the empty track. The first few minutes of walking were full of silence, yet it wasn’t uncomfortable despite everything that had happened. It was peaceful of all things.

“I-“

“I-“

You both immediately retracted your words as you both began at the same time. You looked away, “God this worse than that movie we watched that one time.” you murmured with a soft laugh. Lando found himself chuckling knowing exactly which movie you were talking about. 

“Let me go first, then.” he offered, you nodded silently. A long string of silence filled the air, only the sound of your footsteps on the track could be heard. 

“I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. Honestly? I would’ve done the same thing. I shouldn’t have given so easily on us, I should’ve given us a second chance. Because bloody hell these last two months without you have been absolute shit. I don’t even know who I am without you, and maybe in someway that’s a bad thing but I don’t care as long as I have you.” he stopped in his tracks and faced you, his dark green eyes reflecting the light in the sunset as it cast its gaze over his face. 

Your hand cupped his cheek softly, your heart fluttering when he pressed his face into your hand, loving how it fit perfectly. 

Just like that it was like you were both high schoolers again. Slipping out of class to steal kisses in the hallways before they were crowded with students. Sneaking out at night through your window to go walk around the streets late together. 

You swallowed hard and spoke.

“After everything happened, my life completely just stopped still. And it felt like I had lost half of who I was because the truth is, Lando, that you’re a part of me. Ever since we were kids it’s like without you i’m lost. I should’ve told you the moment they offered me the seat, I was just ashamed and scared. Because I wanted a future with you, because I still do. I want to marry you, have a family and grow old right next to you.”

You stared longingly into his eyes as he pulled you closer. You fell into his arms as they wrapped around you like your own protective shield. Because the truth was that Lando was your home. You let out a shaky breath, as you pulled back and leant in for a kiss only for your lips to be captured in a gentle motion. 

It was something out of a cheesy teen movie, one that the two of you would just hate - two figures kissing as the sun set in the back of a race track. 

“You’re crazy.” you whispered against his lips. 

“Crazy for you.” he whispered back, sending you both into fits of laughter. This was it, this was right, this was home. 

“C’mon, let’s go home Twinkle Toes.”

“After you, Loverboy.”

A/n: STOP ITS SO CRINGEY I WANNA DIEE

Jk.

Tysm for reading! I apologise again for the bad writing, this is just an old piece that I really wanted to get out there, I hope u cringed just as much as I did reading this! Stay safe and have an amazing day - xoxo takimakiiii (yes I changed my name it was long overdue lol)

[my-castles-crumbling]

bet - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 267

“So.”

Regulus looked up from putting his things back in his bag to see James Potter standing at the door of the locker room, arms crossed. “Spying, Potter?” he drawled, barely sparing him a glance.

“Of course. I like to get a good look at the competition before I kick their arses,” Potter smirked, eyes bright.

Regulus snorted. “That’s pretty confident for someone who fell off their broom in practice yesterday.

Immediately, Potter blushed bright red. Clearly, he didn’t know Regulus knew that. “Either way, we’re going to win,” he said after a moment, gathering his wits. 

“Oh?” Regulus asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder and striding forward, stepping just a bit too close to Potter to be friendly. “Want to bet?”

A huge grin flashed across James’s face. “Sure. How about….” and suddenly he turned, pressing Regulus against the nearby wall, causing him to gasp with surprise and desire, “if I win, I get to snog you underneath the stands?”

Regulus kept his face blank as he pretended to ponder, his heart hammering wildly in his chest as he distractedly thought about how strong James was, his hands pinning him to the wall by his arm and waist. “And if I win?” he asked slowly, staring into molten hazel eyes.

“Then you get to snog me under the stands,” the Gryffindor replied, grinning.

He held back a smile. “I suppose those seem like fair terms,” he replied seriously.

But before James could connect their lips, he slipped out of the older boy’s grasp and quickly walked out the door, hiding a smirk behind his hand.

[ducksido]

Comforting Deuce

The sound of cheers and applause still echoed faintly in the distance as the track and field competition wrapped up. Deuce Spade, usually brimming with energy and determination, trudged back toward the Ramshackle Dorm with his head hung low. His uniform was smeared with dirt, his hair slightly disheveled from the effort he’d poured into the race.

Y/N waited for him just outside the dorm, their heart aching at the sight of his downcast expression. The once-confident boy now looked defeated, and they knew he’d be taking the loss harder than anyone else.

As soon as he saw Y/N, Deuce tried to muster a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hey…” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Deuce,” Y/N said softly, stepping closer and placing a gentle hand on his arm. “You gave it your all, didn’t you?”

“I thought I could win this time,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “I trained so hard, but… it wasn’t enough. RSA just keeps outpacing me. I let everyone down.”

Y/N shook their head firmly. “You didn’t let anyone down. You gave it everything you had, and that’s what matters. I’m so proud of you, Deuce.”

His blue eyes flicked to theirs, searching for sincerity in their words. Seeing nothing but warmth and love, his shoulders slumped as he let out a shaky breath. “It still feels like I failed…”

Without a word, Y/N reached up and wrapped their arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Deuce hesitated for a moment before burying his face in their shoulder, the tension in his body slowly melting away.

“You’re not a failure,” Y/N whispered, running their fingers gently through his hair. “You’re my Deuce—kind, hardworking, and full of heart. That means so much more to me than any competition.”

He let out a quiet sniffle, holding them a little tighter as the weight of his emotions began to ease. Y/N pressed a soft kiss to his temple, then another to his cheek, and finally one to his lips, lingering just long enough to make his heart flutter despite his earlier sadness.

“Y/N…” he murmured, his voice steadier now. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You don’t have to do anything without me,” they replied with a smile, cupping his face in their hands. “We’re in this together, okay?”

Deuce nodded, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through. “Okay.”

They spent the rest of the evening cuddled on the worn-out couch in the Ramshackle Dorm. Y/N’s presence was a balm to his wounded pride, their kisses and gentle words reminding him that he was enough, no matter the outcome of any race.

And as the moonlight streamed through the window, casting a soft glow over them, Deuce realized that as long as he had Y/N by his side, he could face any challenge that came his way.

[slut4megantheestallion]

Arcane Women Love language

Characters: Mel Medarda, Caitlyn Kirraman, Vi, Jinx.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Gift giving- Mel Medarda

-Mel most definitely shows her love through giving you gifts to express her feelings and devotion for you. Every gift mel gives is a masterpiece, reflecting her understanding of your preferences. She's not about flashy, meaningless extravagance; instead, she chooses items that hold personal meaning for you, like a rare painting, handcrafted jewelry, or a unique artifact tied to your interests.

-"This reminded me of you." She says as she hands you over a beautifully wrapped gift, the thoughtfulness behind it more meaningful than the item itself.

-Mel makes every occurrence feel monumental. Birthdays, anniversaries, or even a small victories in your life are celebrated with gifts that show she's been paying close attention to what matters to you.

-Her gifts are often handwritten notes, filled with poetic words that express her love and admiration for you.

-Beyond physical gifts, Mel loves organizing surprises experiences: candlelit dinners on balconies, overlooking Piltover, private art galleries, tours, or a weekend getaway.

-These moments aren't just luxurious but deeply intimate, designed to strengthen your connection and make you feel cherished.

-While her gifts may seem grand, they're always deeply personal. She'll incorporate meaningful details, like engraving a bracelet with a private phase only you two understand or designing a piece of art inspired by your shared memories.

Word of Affirmation - Caitlyn Kirraman

-Caitlyn never misses an Opponent to tell you how much she appreciates and love you. Whether it's a quick "You're amazing." Before you head out or a heartfelt "You're my everything" during quiet moments, her words are constant reminders of her affection.

-She's a master of subtle compliments, often praising things you didn't even realize were worth noticing about yourself, like your resilience, intellect, or kindness.

-If Caitlyn is away on duty, she'll write you letters filled with detailed accounts of her day and messages of longing.

-You'll also find little notes tucked into your belongings, ranging from "Good morning, love" to "I'm so proud of you."

-Caitlyn's words become your greater source of comfort during tough times. She knows exactly what to say to remind you of your strengths and capabilities.

-You've overcome so much already." She says, her tone soft yet firm. "There's nothing you can't handle."

-Caitlyn enjoys the intimacy of long conversation, where she can openly express her feelings. Where it's over a quiet dinner or while lying in bed, she'll tell you everything she loves about you in detail, letting no doubts about her devotion.

Physical touch- Vi

-Vi has an instinct to protect, and this shows in her touch. She'll casually place a hand on your back when walking through a crowded area, pull you behind her in dangerous situations, or wrap an arm around your shoulders when she senses you're uneasy, these touches aren't just protective but a way of grounding herself in your presence.

-Vi is incredibly affectionate. She'll hold your hand whenever she can, rest her forehead against yours when you're alone, and brush her fingers through your hair absentmindedly while you sit together.

-she loves surprise hugs, pulling you close with a grin before whispering, "Just needed to do that."

-Physical touch for Vi isn't always serious- it's playful and lighthearted, too. Except surprise piggyback rides, arm wrestling competition, (that she might let you win), and affectionate shoves as a way of teasing.

-She loves messing with you just to make you laugh, her touch always carrying warmth and love.

-After a rough day, Vi is the first to pull you into her lap and wrap her arms around you. She'll hold you tightly murmuring softly, "I've got you, alright?"

-She finds as much comfort in holding you as you do in being held.

Gift Giving - Jinx (Powder)

-Jinx loves creating things for you these gifts can range from intricate (and occasionally dangerous) gadgets to colorful pieces of art inspired by your relationship.

-She spends hours crafting these items, pouring her heart into every detail. "I made this for you!" She says with a proud grin, waiting eagerly for your reaction.

-Jinx keeps you on your toes with her gifts. She loves surprising you with random trinkets or gadgets when you least expect it, leaving them in places where you're bound to find them.

- "Check the table." She'll say mysteriously, and you'll discover a quirky little device that lights up or play a tune.

-Being an artist, Jinx expresses her love through graffiti. She'll create elaborate murals featuring your name, a inside joke you both share always in her vibrant, chaotic style.

-These public displays of affection are her way of saying, "You're always on my mind."

-Her gifts often come with an element of fun. She might create a scavenger hunt for you to find your present, complete with riddles and clues, or prank you with a harmless explosion before revealing the actual gift.

-For jinx, the joy is in making you smile (or laugh hysterically.)

[secretlittlerandezvous]

First Getaway - Arber Xhekaj

Summary: Arber and Y/n go on their first trip together.

Words: 844

Arber wasn’t exactly an experienced traveler. Y/n knew that going into this trip, but she hadn’t anticipated just how amusing it would be. When she suggested a weekend getaway to Banff which was a mix of cozy cabin vibes and outdoor adventures Arber had enthusiastically agreed. His version of preparation, however, didn’t meet Y/n’s standards.

The night before their flight, Y/N peeked into his duffle bag and raised an eyebrow. “Arber, do you even know where your toothbrush is?”

“It’s in there… somewhere,” he said, flashing her his boyish grin. The same one that usually got him out of trouble. “I think.” He said to himself.

She sighed dramatically before fishing through the bag. “Right, and I’m sure this single hockey sock and… is this a pack of instant noodles? These are your essentials?”

“I like to be prepared,” he said with a shrug, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

The airport was its own circus. Arber insisted on carrying both their bags, determined to play the role of a gentleman. But his massive frame and her oversized carry on made navigating the tight spaces an ordeal.

“Excuse me, sorry, coming through,” he mumbled as he bumped into nearly every person on the plane. Y/n trailed behind him, biting her lip to keep herself from laughing.

“I’m too big for this plane,” he muttered once they finally reached their seats.

“Or you’re just clumsy,” Y/n teased, sliding into the window seat.

“Probably both,” he admitted, nudging her knee with his as he settled in.

By the time they landed and drove up to their cabin in Banff, the scenery took their breath away. Snow covered mountains surrounded them, and the small log cabin, nestled between towering pine trees, looked like something out of a winter postcard.

“This is… wow,” Arber said, stepping out of the car. His hands rested on his hips as he took it all in. “You outdid yourself, Y/n.”

“I know,” she teased, grabbing her bag. “Now come help me unpack.”

Inside the cabin, Arber’s excitement quickly turned into chaos. He couldn’t figure out how to start the fireplace, leading to a heated debate (and lots of laughter) as they both struggled with logs and matches.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Arber asked, holding the matchstick like it was a stick of dynamite.

“Positive,” Y/n replied. “If you don’t burn the cabin down.”

Eventually, they managed to get the fire going, and the warm glow filled the room. Arber sprawled out on the couch, looking smug.

“See? Told you I’d figure it out,” he said.

“After, like, ten tries,” Y/n shot back, tossing a pillow at him.

The next morning, they decided to go for a hike. Y/N had picked an easy trail with scenic views, but Arber still turned it into a competition.

“Bet I can beat you to that rock up there,” he said, already jogging ahead.

“Arber!” Y/n called after him. “It’s not a race!”

“It is now!” he yelled back, laughing.

Halfway up the trail, the competition shifted to a snowball fight. Y/n managed to hit Arber in the chest with her first throw, and he dramatically stumbled backward like he’d been wounded.

“You got me,” he groaned, sinking to his knees.

“Stop being so dramatic!” Y/n laughed, grabbing another handful of snow.

As soon as she turned her back, Arber launched a perfectly aimed snowball at her, hitting her in the back.

“Hey!” she yelped, spinning around.

“Just getting my revenge,” he said, grinning as he backed away slowly.

By the time they made it back to the cabin, both of them were soaked and exhausted. They spent the rest of the day cozied up by the fire, sipping hot chocolate and playing card games. Arber insisted he didn’t know the rules to most of the games, but Y/n quickly caught onto his strategy of making up rules as he went to win.

“Arber, you can’t just declare yourself the winner because you have the biggest hand!” she said, laughing as he spread his cards out.

“Why not?” he teased. “I think it’s a solid rule.”

That evening, they cooked dinner together or at least tried to. Arber was in charge of chopping vegetables, but his knife skills were basically nonexistent.

“Arber, that carrot is supposed to be in slices, not… whatever this is,” Y/n said, holding up a messed up chunk.

“It’s abstract,” he said. “I’m an artist.”

Despite the chaos, they managed to put together a surprisingly good meal. They ate by candlelight, sharing stories and laughter until Y/n couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled so much.

As the night wound down, Y/n leaned into Arber’s side by the fireplace, her head resting on his shoulder.

“I think this might be my favorite trip ever,” she admitted softly.

Arber kissed the top of her head, his usual cocky smirk replaced with something softer. “Yeah? Just wait till our next one. I’ll even remember a toothbrush.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

[weralika]

Neil and Jeremy hate each other and they are competitive as fuck so when they have something they can do to best one another they try as hard as they can.

Jean can't stand it because the thing they are competing about is his orgasm and he just wants to have normal sex while those jerks flirt with eachother saying 'he will come faster with my hands on him' and 'you should watch me doing this like a pro' and Jean just sits there waiting for them to understand the idea of just having sex with eachother and not I'm gonna win this time, you loser. poor Jean with his stupid boyfriends

[novaursa]

Caught by Fire (the meddling)

- Summary: A story where Daemon's daughter falls from the sky. And by some strange events orchestrated by fate, Otto catches you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Otto Hightower

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: the gem

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround

The gardens of the Red Keep were alive with the soft sounds of birdsong and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. The sun shone brightly, its warm light filtering through the trees and casting dappled shadows across the cobblestone paths. You sat beneath a sprawling lemon tree with Princess Rhaenyra, a small table between you laden with a pitcher of chilled wine and two goblets. A faint floral scent hung in the air, mingling with the crisp citrus tang of the nearby blossoms.

Rhaenyra leaned back in her chair, swirling the wine in her goblet with a lazy hand. Her silver hair, always meticulously arranged for court, was looser now, the soft waves framing her face. She looked at you with a mischievous grin.

“So,” she began, her tone teasing, “how many lords have declared their undying love for you today?”

You laughed softly, setting your own goblet down on the table. “Only three. I must be losing my charm.”

“Only three?” Rhaenyra said, feigning shock. “You’ll have to try harder. I had at least five this morning alone.”

“Were they all trying to outdo each other in their flattery?” you asked, leaning forward slightly. “Or was it a competition to see who could bow the lowest?”

“Both,” Rhaenyra replied with a laugh. “One of them compared my eyes to the stars. I nearly told him he should spend less time stargazing and more time improving his swordsmanship.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “They’re all the same, aren’t they? Empty words, grand gestures, and nothing of substance.”

Rhaenyra sighed, leaning her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hand. “Exactly. It’s as if they think we’re prizes to be won rather than people with minds of our own.”

“Perhaps they’re afraid of our minds,” you suggested, your tone light but with a trace of bitterness beneath it. “After all, a clever woman is far more dangerous than a sharp sword.”

Rhaenyra tilted her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “True enough. But it’s exhausting, isn’t it? Having to listen to the same rehearsed speeches over and over again.”

“Exhausting doesn’t even begin to describe it,” you said, reaching for your goblet again. “I’ve started to wonder if any of them see us as more than Targaryens. Do they care about who we are, or just what we represent?”

Rhaenyra’s smile faded slightly, her expression turning thoughtful. “Sometimes I wonder the same. Do they want me, or do they want the Iron Throne? Do they want you, or do they want to tie themselves to our House?”

You nodded, the weight of her words settling over you. “It’s hard to tell, isn’t it? But I suppose that’s the game we’re meant to play. Smile, nod, let them think they’re winning us over.”

“For the sake of the realm,” Rhaenyra said, her tone laced with sarcasm.

“For the sake of the realm,” you echoed, your voice dry.

There was a pause as you both sipped your wine, the comfortable silence broken only by the gentle hum of the gardens. Finally, Rhaenyra spoke again, her voice quieter now.

“Have you ever considered what it would be like… to marry for love?” she asked, glancing at you from beneath her lashes.

You hesitated, your fingers tracing the rim of your goblet. “I have. But it feels like a dream, doesn’t it? Something we’re not allowed to have.”

Rhaenyra sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Sometimes I envy the smallfolk. They don’t have to deal with all this—alliances, politics, endless suitors. They can choose who they want, without worrying about the consequences.”

“Or they have no choice at all,” you pointed out gently. “Their lives are hardly free.”

“True,” Rhaenyra conceded, a faint smile returning to her lips. “But at least they’re spared the poetry.”

You laughed, raising your goblet in a mock toast. “To freedom from bad poetry.”

“To freedom from bad poetry,” Rhaenyra echoed, clinking her goblet against yours.

The two of you shared a laugh, the tension of the conversation easing for the moment. But as you sat together beneath the lemon tree, the weight of your shared reality lingered, unspoken yet undeniable. You both knew that your futures were not entirely your own, that the choices ahead would be dictated by the needs of the realm rather than the desires of your hearts.

Still, in that moment, it was enough to share the burden with someone who understood.

The Tower of the Hand was quiet, save for the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth. Otto Hightower sat at his desk, his hands clasped together tightly, staring down at an untouched goblet of wine. His usually immaculate desk was cluttered—scrolls askew, ink stains smudging the corners of his notes. The precise order he prided himself on was unraveling, much like his thoughts.

He exhaled deeply, pressing his fingertips to his temples. His mind raced, a chaotic storm of questions and self-recriminations. How had it come to this? When had he allowed himself to be so… distracted? It wasn’t supposed to happen—not to him. He was Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, the steady anchor of the realm.

And yet, here he was, a man brought to the brink of madness over a princess he had no right to even think about.

The knock on his door came too soon, shattering the fragile quiet he’d managed to build around himself. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

The door creaked open, and in sauntered Jasper Wylde, his face alight with mischief. He didn’t bother to wait for an invitation, plopping down into the chair opposite Otto’s desk with all the grace of a man entirely too pleased with himself.

“Well, well,” Jasper began, leaning back casually. “I thought I’d find you here, wallowing in your thoughts. And judging by the look on your face, I was right.”

Otto’s glare could have cut stone. “If you’ve come to gloat, Lord Wylde, spare me the theatrics. I’m not in the mood.”

Jasper grinned, unbothered by Otto’s irritation. “Oh, I can see that. The great Otto Hightower, undone by a silver-haired princess. Truly, the gods have a sense of humor.”

Otto groaned, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his temples. “You are insufferable.”

“I prefer the term ‘perceptive,’” Jasper quipped, gesturing to the wine. “You should drink that. Might loosen you up a bit.”

“I don’t need to be loosened,” Otto snapped. “I need the realm to stop conspiring against me.”

Jasper chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “The realm isn’t conspiring, Otto. It’s you. You’ve spent so many years focusing on duty and propriety that you’ve forgotten you’re human. And now, one spirited princess comes along, and suddenly you’re questioning everything.”

Otto’s jaw tightened. “I am not questioning everything.”

“Oh, you absolutely are,” Jasper said, his grin widening. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. Like a man seeing sunlight for the first time. It’s almost poetic.”

“This is not amusing,” Otto growled, his voice low. “If Daemon—or worse, Viserys—suspected even a fraction of what you’re insinuating, it would mean disaster.”

Jasper shrugged. “Then don’t let them find out. But you can’t sit here pretending you don’t care. You’ve already sent her a gift. You’re already in deeper than you want to admit.”

“That was a gesture of gratitude,” Otto said firmly, though the words rang hollow even to his own ears.

“Gratitude?” Jasper snorted. “Please. That hairpin was practically a love letter.”

Otto shot him a withering glare. “If you value your position, you’ll keep your mouth shut about this.”

“Oh, I won’t tell anyone,” Jasper said, leaning forward with a wicked glint in his eye. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to enjoy watching you squirm.”

Otto groaned again, his head falling into his hands. “Seven hells, why am I even entertaining this conversation?”

“Because deep down, you know I’m right,” Jasper said smugly. “You’re in the middle of a crisis, Otto. And it’s glorious.”

Otto sat up, fixing Jasper with a look of pure exasperation. “I am not in the middle of a crisis.”

“You’re brooding in your tower, snapping at everyone, and questioning your very existence over a woman,” Jasper said, ticking off each point on his fingers. “If that’s not a crisis, I don’t know what is.”

Otto stared at him, his patience hanging by a thread. “What do you suggest I do, then, Lord Wylde? Profess my undying affection and hope for the best?”

Jasper laughed, loud and unrestrained. “Gods, no. You’d terrify her. Just… let it play out. Stop trying to control everything for once in your life.”

Otto scowled, but the words lingered uncomfortably in his mind. “Your advice is bleak,” he muttered again.

“And you’re hopeless,” Jasper countered, standing and clapping Otto on the shoulder. “But that’s what makes this so entertaining. Good luck, my friend. You’re going to need it.”

With that, Jasper left, his laughter echoing down the corridor. Otto sat in silence, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him once more. He stared at the goblet of wine, considering Jasper’s words even as he tried to dismiss them.

The gods, it seemed, had decided to make him the punchline of their grand joke. And he hated that part of him—small and traitorous though it was—didn’t entirely mind.

The grand hall of the Red Keep was alive with the quiet murmur of courtiers and the occasional clink of goblets. The day’s business was light, and the nobles of King’s Landing milled about in clusters, exchanging pleasantries and gossip. Otto Hightower stood near one of the tall windows, his posture as rigid as ever, though his mind was anything but.

He had spotted you earlier, a flash of silver hair and a vibrant blue gown catching his attention as you entered the hall. You moved with an effortless grace, your presence commanding attention without even trying. Otto, against his better judgment, saw an opportunity—a rare moment when you weren’t surrounded by Rhaenyra or a gaggle of noble ladies.

Taking a deep breath, he made his way toward you, rehearsing his words in his mind. Casual. Polite. Nothing more than a conversation, he reminded himself.

You stood near one of the side tables, inspecting a goblet of wine with a faintly amused expression. As he approached, you glanced up, your eyes meeting his.

“Lord Hightower,” you greeted, inclining your head. “I didn’t expect to see you among the courtiers today.”

Otto offered a faint smile, bowing his head slightly. “Even the Hand of the King must indulge in lighter company from time to time.”

You arched a brow, a trace of amusement in your expression. “And here I thought you thrived on the weighty matters of state.”

“Perhaps I do,” Otto replied smoothly, “but even the most steadfast ship requires calm waters now and then.”

Your smile widened, and you gestured to the goblet in your hand. “Do you indulge in wine, my lord, or is that too frivolous for the Hand of the King?”

“On occasion,” he admitted, a flicker of warmth in his tone. “Though I find my indulgences lean more toward conversation.”

“Then I’m honored to provide it,” you said lightly, setting the goblet down. “What shall we discuss, Lord Hightower? The state of the realm? Or perhaps the poetry of the Reach?”

“Whatever pleases you, Princess,” Otto said, his voice steady despite the faint flutter in his chest.

Before the conversation could deepen, a young lord approached—Lord Gawen Corbray, his dark hair neatly combed and his tunic embroidered with the sigil of House Corbray. He bowed deeply, a practiced smile on his lips.

“Princess,” Gawen said, his tone warm and confident. “It is an honor to see you gracing the court today.”

You returned his bow with a polite nod. “Lord Corbray. How kind of you to say.”

Gawen’s gaze flicked briefly to Otto, his smile tightening ever so slightly. “Lord Hightower,” he said with a nod, his tone respectful but pointed.

“Lord Corbray,” Otto replied evenly, his expression unreadable.

Gawen turned his attention back to you, his confidence returning. “I was just speaking with my father about the recent tourneys. Have you had the chance to attend any, Princess? There have been some truly spectacular displays of skill.”

“I have not,” you admitted, your tone polite but distant. “Though I’ve heard the tales.”

“Ah, a shame,” Gawen said, his smile widening. “Perhaps the next one, then. I’d be honored to escort you—if you would permit it, of course.”

Before you could respond, Otto spoke, his tone measured. “The princess’s time is often occupied with matters of far greater import than tourneys, Lord Corbray. Though your offer is… thoughtful.”

The subtle weight in Otto’s words was not lost on Gawen, who straightened slightly, his smile faltering for a fraction of a second. “Of course, Lord Hightower. But surely even a princess deserves moments of levity.”

“And yet,” Otto said smoothly, his gaze unwavering, “it is the princess herself who decides how best to spend her time.”

You glanced between the two men, sensing the unspoken hostility. A faint smile tugged at your lips as you addressed Gawen. “Your offer is most gracious, my lord. I shall keep it in mind.”

Gawen’s smile returned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I am at your service, Princess.” He hesitated, then added, “Lord Hightower, I’m sure the matters of the realm demand your attention. Perhaps I might have a moment with the princess to discuss… lighter matters?”

Otto’s expression remained composed, but his eyes sharpened. “The princess and I were already engaged in conversation. I trust she will let us know when she wishes to change the subject—or company.”

Gawen’s jaw tightened, though he quickly masked it with a bow. “Of course. My apologies, Princess Y/N, Lord Hightower. I shall take my leave for now.”

As Gawen retreated, Otto allowed himself a small, satisfied exhale. You turned back to him, your expression unreadable.

“That was… bracing,” you said, a hint of amusement in your voice.

“My apologies if I overstepped,” Otto said, his tone measured. “I only wished to ensure you weren’t subjected to unnecessary… distractions.”

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment. “Is that what he was? A distraction?”

Otto met your gaze, his composure steady. “I would never presume to speak for you, Princess. But I value a conversation of substance over empty flattery.”

Your lips curved into a faint smile. “As do I, Lord Hightower. As do I.”

The conversation resumed, the earlier tension fading as you discussed lighter topics—the gardens, the history of the Keep, even a brief exchange about your shared admiration for Oldtown’s architecture. But as you spoke, Otto couldn’t shake the lingering warmth in his chest—a quiet, insistent reminder of the treacherous path he was treading.

The royal solar of the Red Keep was quiet, save for the crackle of the fire in the hearth and the soft clink of goblets on the table. King Viserys sat in his high-backed chair, swirling the wine in his cup with an air of exasperation. Across from him, his brother, Daemon Targaryen, lounged in his chair with his usual blend of arrogance and ease.

Viserys studied his younger brother for a long moment, his expression a mixture of weariness and frustration. Daemon, as always, seemed entirely unbothered, his silver hair loose and falling over his shoulders, the faintest smirk playing on his lips.

“You know why I’ve asked you here,” Viserys began, his tone heavy with the weight of responsibility.

“Oh, I can imagine,” Daemon drawled, taking a slow sip from his goblet. “The same tiresome subject you’ve been hounding me about for weeks.”

“Because it’s important,” Viserys said sharply, setting his goblet down with a thud. “She’s your daughter, Daemon. Her future is not something you can dismiss with a wave of your hand.”

“And yet, that’s exactly what I intend to do,” Daemon replied, leaning back in his chair. “The so-called lords of the realm have no claim to her.”

Viserys let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his temples. “You can’t keep rejecting every proposal. These are not petty knights or minor houses, Daemon. These are paramount lords—Lannisters, Tyrells, Baratheons. Marrying her to one of them could strengthen the realm.”

“And weaken her,” Daemon countered, his tone calm but firm. “Do you think she’d thrive as the lady of Storm’s End? Or Casterly Rock? Tied to some lord who sees her as little more than a broodmare?”

Viserys frowned, his fingers drumming against the table. “You’re being unreasonable. A match with one of these houses would elevate her, protect her. It’s what’s best for her.”

“What’s best for her,” Daemon said, his voice taking on an edge, “is to remain where she is, with her family. Not shackled to some pompous lord who only wants her for her name and her blood.”

Viserys sat forward, his frustration boiling over. “She’s not a child, Daemon! She’s a woman grown, and the longer you keep her unwed, the more chaos it invites. The court is already teeming with whispers about her suitors, and every rejection you make only fuels the fire.”

Daemon smirked, clearly unfazed. “Let them whisper. What do I care for their idle tongues?”

“You should care,” Viserys said, his tone rising. “The realm needs stability, and her marriage could bring that. Or would you prefer her name to be dragged through the mud, her reputation tarnished because you refused to act?”

Daemon’s smirk faded, his eyes narrowing. “You think I don’t care about her reputation? About her future? I would burn this castle to the ground before I let anyone harm her.”

“Then stop treating her like a pawn in your game against the lords of the realm,” Viserys shot back. “You’re not protecting her, Daemon. You’re isolating her.”

For a moment, the two brothers stared at each other, the tension between them thick and heavy. Finally, Daemon leaned forward, his tone quieter but no less firm.

“Do you know what she said to me the other day?” he asked, his voice almost conversational.

Viserys frowned, caught off guard. “What?”

“She told me she’d rather have no husband at all than be married to one of these fools who parade themselves before her,” Daemon said, his lips curling into a faint, bitter smile. “She sees through them, brother. Every flowery word, every empty promise. And she despises it.”

Viserys’s expression softened slightly, though his frustration remained. “She’s young, Daemon. She doesn’t understand what’s at stake.”

“She understands more than you think,” Daemon said, standing and pacing to the window. He looked out over the city, his hands clasped behind his back. “She has her mother’s spirit. Wild, untamed. You can’t cage that, Viserys. You shouldn’t try.”

Viserys sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. “So what, then? You’d have her remain unwed forever? What kind of future is that for her?”

Daemon turned, his expression hard. “One where she’s free. Free to choose her own path. Free to decide what she wants.”

“And what if what she wants is something you can’t give her?” Viserys asked quietly.

Daemon hesitated, the question striking a nerve. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

Viserys stood, stepping closer to his brother. “I know you love her, Daemon. I know you want what’s best for her. But you can’t shield her from the world forever. Sooner or later, she’ll have to face it—and you need to let her.”

Daemon’s gaze dropped to the floor, his hands tightening into fists. After a long moment, he looked up, his dark violet eyes burning with determination. “If she faces the world, she’ll do it on her terms. Not yours. Not mine. Hers.”

Viserys studied him for a moment, his frustration giving way to resignation. “You’re being unreasonable.”

“I’ve been called worse,” Daemon said with a faint smirk, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

The king sighed, shaking his head as he turned back to the table. “We’ll revisit this conversation soon. Until then, I hope you’ll think on what I’ve said.”

Daemon said nothing, his gaze returning to the city below. As Viserys left the solar, the silence that followed felt heavier than before, filled with unspoken fears and unresolved tension.

Daemon stood alone, staring out over the city as the sunlight faded into the haze of the horizon. Whatever the future held, he knew one thing for certain: he would do whatever it took to protect you, even if it meant defying the realm itself.

The gardens of the Red Keep were quiet in the early morning, the dew still clinging to the petals of roses and the air fresh with the scent of lavender and lemon blossoms. You sat on a stone bench near the edge of the fountain, a book open in your lap, though your eyes were more focused on the rippling water than the words on the page. The tranquility of the moment was a welcome reprieve from the bustling chaos of court life.

The sound of soft footsteps drew your attention, and you glanced up to see Queen Alicent approaching. She was dressed in a gown of emerald green, her auburn hair falling in neat waves over her shoulders. Her expression was warm, but there was a trace of hesitation in her eyes as she drew closer.

“Good morning, Princess,” Alicent greeted with a small smile, her voice soft.

“Your Grace,” you replied, closing your book and standing to curtsy. “You honor me with your presence.”

Alicent waved a hand dismissively, gesturing for you to sit. “Please, no need for formality. I thought I might join you for a while. The gardens are much more inviting than the throne room at this hour.”

You nodded, resuming your seat as Alicent settled beside you on the bench. For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the gentle bubbling of the fountain filling the space between you.

“You’ve been the subject of much conversation lately,” Alicent said after a pause, her tone casual.

You arched a brow, glancing at her. “Have I? That’s hardly unusual for a Targaryen at court.”

“True,” Alicent admitted with a faint laugh. “But even among our family, you’ve drawn considerable attention. The lords seem particularly… enamored.”

You sighed, leaning back slightly. “If by ‘enamored,’ you mean relentless, then yes, I suppose they are.”

Alicent smiled, though there was a flicker of something more serious in her eyes. “And yet, you don’t seem impressed by any of them.”

“Should I be?” you asked lightly. “Most of them seem more interested in my bloodline than in me.”

Alicent tilted her head, studying you for a moment. “You’re perceptive. It’s no wonder my father admires you.”

The mention of Otto caught you off guard, though you quickly masked your surprise. “Lord Hightower has been kind,” you said carefully. “He’s a man of great wisdom.”

“Wisdom, yes,” Alicent said, her gaze drifting to the fountain. “But he’s also a man who carries many burdens. Sometimes I wonder if he ever allows himself to set them down.”

You hesitated, unsure where the conversation was leading. “He does seem… dedicated.”

“He is,” Alicent said, her voice quieter now. “Ever since my mother passed, he’s poured himself into his duties. The realm has always come first for him, even at great cost to himself.”

You turned to her, sensing the shift in her tone. “That must have been difficult—for both of you.”

Alicent nodded, a flicker of sadness crossing her face. “It was. He was all I had after she was gone. And while I know he loved her, I think her death left a void he’s never truly filled.”

The vulnerability in her voice caught you off guard. Alicent was always composed, always measured. To hear her speak so openly felt almost… intimate.

“Why are you telling me this?” you asked gently.

Alicent hesitated, her hands clasping in her lap. “Because I see how he looks at you,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I see how he’s changed since you came to court. He’s… different.”

You blinked, startled by her candor. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Alicent said quickly, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I just… I suppose I wanted to understand. What do you think of him?”

The question hung in the air, and you took a moment to gather your thoughts. “He’s… complex,” you said finally. “He has a keen mind and a steady presence. But he’s also distant, guarded. It’s hard to know what lies beneath the surface.”

Alicent smiled faintly. “That’s fair. He’s always been that way. But I think, deep down, he feels more than he lets on.”

You glanced at her, studying her expression. “And what do you think of this, Your Grace? This… interest he has?”

Alicent sighed, her gaze dropping to her hands. “I don’t know. It feels strange to even speak of it. He’s my father, and I never imagined… But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that life is rarely as simple as we wish it to be.”

You nodded slowly, your thoughts swirling. “It’s a complicated matter, to say the least.”

“More than complicated,” Alicent said with a soft laugh. “But I thought you deserved to know. Whatever comes of it, I only hope… I only hope he finds some measure of happiness.”

The vulnerability in her words struck a chord, and you found yourself seeing Alicent—and her father—in a new light. The weight of duty and expectation pressed heavily on all of you, and in that moment, you realized just how deeply it shaped your lives.

“Thank you for telling me,” you said quietly. “It means more than you know.”

Alicent reached out, briefly touching your hand. “You’re a remarkable person, Princess Y/N. And I think… my father sees that more clearly than anyone.”

With that, she rose gracefully, smoothing her gown as she prepared to leave. “Enjoy the gardens. They’re far more peaceful than what awaits us inside.”

You watched her go, her words lingering in your mind like the faint scent of roses in the air. The morning sun continued to shine, but the warmth it brought felt strangely distant as you turned back to the fountain, lost in thought.

Otto Hightower sat in his chamber. His desk was meticulously organized, as always, though his mind was far from calm. Reports from the Reach lay before him, but he hadn’t truly read them. His thoughts were elsewhere—always elsewhere these days, and he hated himself for it.

A soft knock at the door broke his reverie. He looked up, straightening his posture. “Enter.”

The door creaked open, and Alicent stepped in, her movements graceful yet hesitant and her expression was uncharacteristically nervous. Otto immediately noticed the tension in her posture.

“Alicent,” he greeted, his tone curious. “What brings you here at this hour?”

She closed the door behind her, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “I… I need to speak with you, Father. About something important.”

Otto’s brow furrowed as he gestured for her to sit. “Very well. What is it?”

Alicent hesitated, then crossed the room to take the chair opposite him. For a moment, she seemed to be gathering her thoughts, her gaze fixed on her hands. Otto’s frown deepened. Alicent was not usually one to mince words with him.

“What’s troubling you?” he asked, his tone softening slightly.

“I spoke to her,” Alicent blurted out, looking up at him.

Otto blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “To whom?”

“To Princess Y/N,” Alicent clarified, her voice quieter now.

The blood drained from Otto’s face. He leaned back in his chair, his hands gripping the armrests. “What exactly did you say?”

“I… I asked her what she thought of you,” Alicent admitted, her cheeks flushing. “And I told her about you. About how you’ve been since Mother died.”

For a long moment, Otto was silent, his expression a mixture of disbelief and horror. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and controlled. “Alicent. Please tell me you’re jesting.”

“I’m not,” she said quickly, leaning forward. “I thought she should know, Father. I know what I’ve said before, about pursuing her not to be a wise choice. But you’re clearly… invested in her. And she has a right to understand—”

Otto stood abruptly, pacing to the window as he ran a hand through his silver-streaked hair. “Gods above, Alicent. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“I was trying to help!” Alicent protested, rising to her feet. “You’ve been so… different lately. I thought if I spoke to her, if she understood, it might—”

“Might what?” Otto snapped, turning to face her. “Encourage her to pity me? To humor my foolishness? This is not some courtly game, Alicent. This is a matter that could destroy everything I’ve built.”

Alicent flinched at his tone but held her ground. “You care for her. Don’t deny it.”

“That is irrelevant,” Otto said sharply. “She is Daemon’s daughter. A Targaryen princess. Whatever… feelings I may have are entirely inappropriate.”

“Father,” Alicent said, her voice softening. “You deserve happiness. You’ve given so much to the realm, to all of us. If there’s even a chance—”

“There is no chance,” Otto interrupted, his tone cold. “Do you think Daemon would ever allow it? Do you think Viserys would? The very idea is absurd.”

Alicent’s eyes filled with frustration. “Why must you always think of duty above all else? You’re a man, Father. Not a machine. You’re allowed to feel.”

Otto exhaled sharply, his hands gripping the windowsill. “Feeling has no place in politics, Alicent. It’s a luxury I cannot afford.”

“And yet, you feel,” Alicent said quietly, stepping closer. “I see it every time you look at her. You’re not as cold as you want the world to believe, Father.”

Otto turned to her, his expression weary. “What did she say? The princess—how did she respond to your… meddling?”

Alicent hesitated, then sighed. “She didn’t say much. She was surprised, of course. But I think she… understood.”

Otto groaned, rubbing his temples. “Understood? Gods, this is a disaster.”

“It’s not,” Alicent insisted. “She didn’t reject the idea outright. If anything, I think she admires you.”

Otto gave her a sharp look. “Admiration is not the same as affection. And even if it were, it doesn’t matter. The consequences—”

“The consequences are worth the risk,” Alicent said firmly. “For once, think of yourself, Father. Not the realm. Not the court. You.”

Otto stared at her, his chest tight with conflicting emotions. He wanted to lash out, to tell her she had overstepped. But beneath his anger was something else—a flicker of hope he despised himself for feeling.

Finally, he turned away, his voice barely above a whisper. “You shouldn’t have interfered.”

“Perhaps not,” Alicent admitted. “But I couldn’t stand by and watch you suffer in silence. You’ve done so much for everyone else, Father. You deserve something for yourself.”

Otto closed his eyes, the weight of her words settling over him. He hated the vulnerability they stirred within him, the dangerous yearning they awakened.

“Leave me,” he said quietly.

“Father—”

“Please,” he said, his tone softer but no less firm.

Alicent hesitated, then nodded. “As you wish.”

She left the room, closing the door softly behind her. Otto remained by the window, staring out at the fading light of the evening. His thoughts were a tempest, and for the first time in years, he felt truly uncertain.

[greedylemon]

Some more domestic Grayson thots because she's all I think about<3

Imagine Modern AU! You as Grayson's wife and filming TikToks with her. She would not understand social media but play a long to please you. Trends like "a [girl] who's jacked and kind." The comments would go FERAL over her (me too), flattering her although she does not get it.

However, even if you do not need it, she will reassure you she only wants you.

Let's talk about her strength for a moment because oml. She CAN manhandle you easily because those muscles are for use not for show (yum!).

Her favorite part of the day is coming home to you. (Waking up next to you, when the light creeps in ever so slightly, softly illuminating your body and the room comes close too though)

Being her pretty little thing to show off during galas and other formal meetings for the council/ the Kirammans.

Getting all dressed up for these events and Grayson not being able to resist you. OMG

Her hands would be on you ALL night. On your waist, guiding you along as you both walk through the busy event, letting everyone around you're here with her. Her hands on your thigh when you're sitting down. Holding you hand during still moments.

I imagine she keeps her composure during these events but as soon as both of your feet enter your home, she will be devouring you (hehe) after a whole events worth of build up.

Speaking of the Kirammans! I imagine you would have a close relationship with Caitlyn because of Grayson.

Showing up to their shooting competitions to support your wife and coming across Caitlyn.

I feel as though Caitlyn would be a little weary of you in the beginning but you guys end up having a friendship like hers and Jayce.

I imagine you guys met by working together. Either her coming into your job at a coffee shop/ bakery every day before her shift to see you to have a momentary break before her rigorous works begins.

OR she was hired by you or your company as an officer/ bodyguard, which ends up with both of you becoming too close.

OR you were an enforces too. You starting out as a newbie, being assigned to train under Grayson. In this, she would be hesitant to be in a relationship with you due to your positions, but after some reassurance and weariness, she allows her feelings for you to win as she's absolutely enamoured by you<3

That's all!! Hope all the Grayson fans are fed well by this<3

[db0xtae]

Winning the Breakup | Chapter 1

- Minho (Xo Kitty) X Reader

ᯓ★ Summary : Y/N, a talented and athletic after an intense breakup, Y/N reluctantly agrees to fake date Minho, to make their exes jealous. What begins as a mutual arrangement soon turns complicated when their fake relationship starts to feel all too real. With humor, bickering, and tender moments, Minho and Y/N’s journey proves that sometimes the best way to heal from heartbreak is to allow yourself to fall in love.

ᯓ★ Warnings : None

ᯓ★ Word Count : 876

ᯓ★ A/N : Hi guys!!! Welcome to my first post and story written on Tumblr. It's my first time writing a story for the internet, so if there's anything I can improve on, please let me know. I hope you guys enjoy this story. I also started posting this story on ao3. Hope you enjoy!!!

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Chapter 1: The Deal

The warm glow of fairy lights strung across the KISS courtyard illuminated the scene. Students milled about, dressed to the nines for the school’s fall social, a semi-formal gathering meant to ease the pressure of midterms. Tables were loaded with snacks, and a DJ played the latest hits while clusters of students swayed on the makeshift dance floor.

Y/N stood off to the side, leaning casually against a column, observing the crowd with her sharp, assessing eyes. A cup of punch rested loosely in her hand as she scanned the room. She wasn’t here to dance or socialize. Her goal was simple: to avoid her ex, Alex, who had been staring at her like she was a piece of art he regretted selling.

“Don’t look now, but lover boy is heading this way,” Kitty whispered, sidling up beside her.

Y/N groaned, tilting her head back dramatically. “Of course he is. Does he think lingering stares and awkward smiles will win me back? Pathetic.”

Kitty stifled a laugh, glancing at Alex, who was indeed making his way toward them with a nervous energy that bordered on embarrassing. “Maybe he’s hoping you’ll forgive him.”

“Not in this lifetime.” Y/N straightened up, smoothing the skirt of her chic black dress. Her posture screamed confidence, but inside, her annoyance was bubbling over. She wasn’t in the mood for fake apologies or shallow attempts to rekindle a relationship.

Before Alex could reach them, another voice cut through the noise.

“Y/N, you’re here. Great.”

She turned to see Minho, who was striding toward her with his signature smirk firmly in place. His tailored suit and easy confidence turned a few heads, but Y/N just rolled her eyes. Minho always knew how to make an entrance.

“Minho,” she greeted dryly. “What do you want?”

“Wow, no ‘hi,’ no compliment on how great I look tonight? I’m hurt.” He placed a hand dramatically over his chest.

Kitty snickered and quickly excused herself, whispering, “Good luck,” as she darted off.

“What do you want?” Y/N repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Minho leaned against the column next to her, his smirk softening slightly. “Let me guess—Alex is being a pain?”

Y/N glanced at Alex, who had stopped mid-step and was now awkwardly talking to someone else, clearly reconsidering his approach. “What gave it away?”

“The way you look like you’d rather be anywhere else,” Minho said with a chuckle.

Y/N shrugged. “Not wrong.”

“Here’s the thing,” Minho began, his tone dropping into something more conspiratorial. “I’ve got a similar problem.”

She crossed her arms. “Let me guess. Hyeri?”

Bingo. The mention of his ex-girlfriend made Minho’s jaw tighten ever so slightly, but he quickly masked it with a smile. “Correct. She’s been parading her new boyfriend around like he’s some kind of prize. It’s getting old.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” Y/N replied coolly.

“It could be an us problem,” Minho countered, his smirk returning.

She narrowed her eyes. “What are you getting at?”

Minho leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Hear me out. You want Alex to stop following you around like a lost puppy. I want Hyeri to stop acting like she’s winning whatever weird competition she thinks we’re in. Solution? We fake date.”

Y/N stared at him, blinking slowly. “Fake date?”

“Yeah. You and me, the power couple of KISS,” Minho said, gesturing dramatically. “We’ll show them both what they’re missing. It’s perfect.”

“Perfectly insane,” Y/N shot back.

“Think about it,” Minho urged. “We already look good together. People are always talking about how we’re the most attractive students at KISS—”

“Correction: you talk about that,” Y/N interrupted.

“—and it’ll be believable,” Minho continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “We hang out with the same group, so it won’t seem out of nowhere. Plus, I know how to sell a good story.”

Y/N hesitated. As ridiculous as Minho sounded, he wasn’t entirely wrong. Alex would definitely back off if he thought she’d moved on, and it would be satisfying to see his face if she and Minho started “dating.”

“And what happens when the whole thing blows up in our faces?” she asked.

“It won’t,” Minho said confidently. “We’ll set rules, keep it simple. Once they get the message, we ‘break up’ and go back to normal. No harm, no foul.”

Y/N frowned, considering the idea. She didn’t particularly like Minho—his arrogance was exhausting—but she couldn’t deny that he was persuasive.

“Fine,” she said finally. “But we do this my way. No over-the-top stunts or dramatic public displays. Keep it believable.”

Minho grinned, holding out his hand. “Deal.”

She eyed his hand warily before shaking it. “Deal.”

The whispers started almost immediately. By the time the party ended, half the school had seen Minho escorting Y/N to the dance floor for a slow song, his hand resting casually on her waist while they chatted and laughed like old friends.

“You two were…unexpected,” Yuri said the next morning as they sat in the cafeteria.

Y/N shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee. “What can I say? Minho’s not as insufferable as I thought.”

Across the table, Minho smirked, clearly enjoying the attention. “And Y/N’s not as cold as people think.”

Kitty glanced between them, her expression skeptical but amused. “This is going to be interesting.”

[em-harlsnow]

It's not a prank but there's the game were people try too say the same word at the same time. I feel like everyone would get annoyed that they keep saying the same word at the first try or the opposite. Mickey and Ian keep saying words more unrelated out of pocket words to each other and the siblings tease them. Because how can the married couple not win this game?

okay, yes. I agree, this would be funny.

Debbie organises it, and everyone else agrees. The only reason they end up agreeing is because she says that it's a competition, and proves how well you 'get' each other. Whoever manages to get the same as another person the most times, wins.

It takes an extreme amount of organisation, because people keep on getting distracted and wondering off, then by the time she's wrangled them back, they're all talking about something else and she has to shut them up.

but eventually, they're all sat down and ready at the Gallagher kitchen table.

(for the rest of this I'm going to do dialogue only, kind of like a script, because that makes it easier with so many people and so much dialogue)

Debbie: Okay, everyone ready?

Carl: Yes, God. Can we do this already?

Debbie: Okay, everyone say a word on my count. 3, 2, 1, go!

[at the same time]

Debbie: family

Tami: table

Lip: kitchen

Liam: ridiculous [tiredly]

Frannie: Pancakes!

Carl: criminal [he's opposite Mickey]

Mickey: gun

Ian: pistol

[mickey glares at carl]

Carl: hey, I said what I saw!

Tami: Lip, you and me. We're on the same page here, okay?

Lip: Yeah yeah yeah, okay, I know my next one, you got it?

Tami: yep, I got it

[meanwhile Mickey and Ian nod at each other in determination]

Debbie: ready? 3, 2, 1, go!

[at the same time]

Debbie: fork

Tami: breakfast

Lip: dinner

Liam: game

Frannie: Waffles! [she's just saying what she wants]

Carl: table

Mickey: rifle

Ian: rifle

Ian: Yes!

Mickey: fuck yeah, we won!

Debbie: no, we're gonna do more rounds. and you can't repeat a word, Carl, that defeats the point

Carl: that wasn't in the rules

Lip: Come on, Tami! We were so close!

tami: no, we're all in the same area, right? well, except Frannie and those two [glaring at Ian and Mickey] we got the next one, okay?

Debbie: okay, ready? 3, 2, 1, go!

[at the same time]

Debbie: eating

Tami: lunch

Lip: knife

Liam: stupid [he's just saying what he thinks of the game]

Frannie: Pancakes!

Carl: cereal

Mickey: bullets

Ian: bullets

Mickey: Yes! Fuck all of you.

Ian: we're so winning this

Tami: what the fuck, Lip? knife? it was obviously lunch!

Lip: no it wasn't! Debbie said fork!

Debbie: it was so clearly eating!

Carl: I think we got it this time, okay? we're all gonna get it, ready!

Lip: no, what? I'm not ready!

Carl: think my thoughts

Debbie: yeah, yeah I know what you've got

Lip: I can't think your fucking thoughts Carl!

Debbie: 3, 2, 1, go!

[at the same time]

Debbie: snack

Tami: snack

Lip: I don't- fuck! Um...

Liam: pointless

Frannie: Poptarts!

Carl: food? [uncertainly]

Mickey: sniper

Ian: sniper

[ Ian and mickey laugh arrogantly]

Tami: yes, Debbie! We got it!

[tami and Debbie high five]

Tami: get your head in the game, Lip!

Lip: I'm not a mind reader! Ian's whispering what he's gonna say to Mickey before they say it

Ian: You're just mad because you're losing!

Mickey: no he's not!

Lip: you're both fucking predictable. stop listing guns and I'm watching you for cheating.

Ian: fine, we aren't cheating.

Lip: fine [mimicking[`

Debbie: 3, 2, 1, go!

[at the same time]

Debbie: chocolate

Tami: ice cream

Lip: spoon

Liam: tiresome

Frannie: Cookies!

Carl: dog [getting bored and more confused]

Mickey: shiv

Ian: shiv

Lip: they fucking looked at each other before!

Ian: we aren't telepathic!

Lip: you made a hand gesture under the table!

Mickey: yeah? was it this one? [holds up a middle finger]

Lip: I'm not playing with cheaters

Mickey: you aren't playing, you're just losing

Lip: at least I'm losing honestly

Ian: still losing, though.

Liam: can we be done now?

Lip: I'm not playing when they're cheating.

Ian: we aren't cheating!

Debbie: fine, fine. we can be done now. Ian and Mickey won.

Lip: They cheated!

Ian: we just know each other

Mickey: ugh, I'm leaving. that was the sappiest shit ever

Carl: wanna play Mario kart instead?

Mickey: sure, I'll beat lip's ass again when he can't whine about cheating.

Lip: you cheated.

Ian: shut up and deal with losing

Mickey: you're gonna be losing at Mario Kart in a minute, Red

Ian: [scoffs] to you? no way.

-> I hope this is what you imagined

-> sorry it took so long!

-> send me any TikTok trend asks!

[rmytears]

THE GREAT BAKE-OFF DEBACLE. calex one shot.

pairing: Alex Cabot x Casey Novak

summary: In which Alex and Casey engage in a hilariously competitive bake-off, dragging the SVU team into their chaotic quest for dessert supremacy.

The courtroom was no stranger to tension, but today’s atmosphere was different. It wasn’t a high-stakes trial or a contentious deposition—it was something far more serious.

A bake-off.

Alex Cabot adjusted her glasses, glancing over the rim at Casey Novak, who stood on the other side of the SVU precinct’s communal kitchen. Casey was armed with a whisk in one hand and a determined gleam in her eye, looking as though she was preparing for a closing argument instead of baking a cake.

“You know, Casey,” Alex began, her tone light but edged with competitive energy, “you didn’t have to challenge me to this. I could have just let you bask in the delusion that you’re the better cook.”

Casey smirked, flicking a strand of auburn hair out of her face. “Oh, I’m not delusional, Alex. I just know I’m better. The team deserves to see you finally admit defeat.”

Behind them, the SVU squad—Olivia Benson, Elliot Stabler, Fin Tutuola, and John Munch—sat at the long table, munching on donuts and enjoying the rare entertainment.

“This is the best idea we’ve ever had,” Fin whispered to Olivia, who nodded, trying to suppress a grin.

“Better than karaoke night,” Munch added. “Though I still maintain my rendition of ‘My Way’ was unparalleled.”

“Focus, people,” Olivia said, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. “We’re here to judge fairly. No playing favorites.”

Elliot leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “I’m just here for the food.”

The kitchen itself was a chaotic battlefield. Flour dusted the countertops, and the air was thick with the smell of vanilla, chocolate, and a faint hint of burnt sugar—courtesy of Casey’s first attempt at caramelizing something.

“Is that supposed to look like that?” Alex asked, peering at Casey’s mixing bowl with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s called creativity,” Casey shot back, though she subtly adjusted the mixer speed. “Something you wouldn’t understand, Miss By-The-Book.”

Alex laughed, a melodic sound that made Fin nudge Elliot. “You owe me twenty bucks if they end up together after this.”

“They’re already together,” Elliot replied, rolling his eyes. “This is just foreplay.”

Olivia coughed loudly. “Focus!”

Alex, oblivious to the commentary, was meticulously measuring out ingredients for her signature lemon tart. Every movement was precise, every step deliberate. She exuded an aura of control that only slightly faltered when Casey accidentally bumped her elbow, sending a puff of powdered sugar into the air.

“Casey!” Alex exclaimed, stepping back and glaring at the white streak on her black blouse.

“Oh, lighten up,” Casey teased, though her cheeks flushed. “You look festive.”

“You’re going to pay for that.”

“What are you going to do? Sue me?”

Alex’s lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. “No. I’m going to win.”

The tension in the room escalated as the timer ticked down. Alex’s tart was cooling on a wire rack, its golden crust and glossy lemon filling gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Casey, meanwhile, was furiously decorating a three-layer chocolate cake with an uneven swirl of frosting.

“Five minutes!” Olivia called, enjoying her role as the impartial timekeeper.

“Plenty of time,” Alex said, carefully arranging candied lemon slices on her tart.

“Not enough time,” Casey muttered, smearing frosting on the side of the cake and trying to make it look intentional.

“You’re sweating,” Alex observed, her tone almost sympathetic. “Are you nervous?”

“Not at all,” Casey replied, though she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “Just focused.”

“Uh-huh.”

Finally, the timer buzzed, and Olivia clapped her hands. “Time’s up! Step away from the desserts.”

Alex and Casey both set down their tools, stepping back to admire their creations. Alex’s tart was pristine, a picture of elegance and sophistication. Casey’s cake, though slightly lopsided, had a charming, homemade appeal.

“Okay, judges,” Olivia said, gesturing to the table. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

The squad took their roles seriously, sampling each dessert with exaggerated deliberation. Munch insisted on taking detailed notes, though no one could decipher his handwriting. Fin declared himself the “official frosting inspector,” while Elliot focused on the texture of the tart crust.

“This is incredible,” Olivia said, savoring a bite of Alex’s tart. “It’s tangy, sweet, and the crust is perfect.”

“Of course it is,” Alex said, folding her arms and smirking at Casey. “I told you.”

Casey rolled her eyes but grinned. “Try the cake, Benson. You’ll change your tune.”

Olivia obliged, cutting into the cake and taking a bite. Her eyes widened. “Wow. This is—”

“Delicious,” Fin finished, reaching for another slice. “You might be onto something, Novak.”

Alex frowned, leaning closer to inspect the cake. “What did you put in the frosting?”

“Secret ingredient,” Casey said smugly. “You’ll never guess.”

“It’s bourbon,” Munch said, sniffing the frosting. “Good choice.”

Alex’s jaw dropped. “You spiked your frosting?”

“It’s called innovation,” Casey replied, her tone innocent.

The debate raged on for nearly half an hour, with the squad divided over which dessert deserved the title of “Best Bake.” In the end, Olivia called for a tie, much to Alex and Casey’s mutual dismay.

“This isn’t over,” Alex said as they cleaned up the kitchen.

“Agreed,” Casey replied, nudging Alex with her shoulder. “But admit it—you had fun.”

Alex sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe a little.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

As the squad filed out, leaving the two attorneys alone in the kitchen, Alex turned to Casey with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Next time, we’re doing something I’m guaranteed to win.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Trivia.”

Casey groaned. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love it.”

Casey laughed, leaning in to kiss Alex on the cheek. “Yeah, I do.”

From the hallway, Fin’s voice echoed back. “Pay up, Stabler!”