#oh and that last panel always makes me laugh

[ilovolderman]

Stealth Raccoons

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: During a chaotic mission, Sam’s on high alert and Natasha’s low-key helping you and Bucky keep your secret relationship under wraps.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating

A/N: this can be read as a standalone even though it's part of a series called "You Said What". it doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12. thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

The mission was going fine. Until it wasn’t.

“Everyone stay in comms range,” Sam had said. “No hero moves,” Sam had said. “Stick to the plan,” SAM HAD SAID.

But now there were fire alarms blaring, half the base was flooding for reasons that were absolutely not in the briefing, and somehow you and Bucky were trapped in a side corridor while Sam and Nat were three levels up and getting increasingly annoyed.

Sam’s voice crackled over comms. “What do you mean you’re stuck in a broom closet?”

“It’s not a closet,” Bucky said tightly, scanning the door panel. “It’s a supply room. Very tactical. Very... moppy.”

You stifled a laugh behind your hand. “Tactical mop. For stealth cleaning.”

“You’re both impossible,” Sam muttered. “Can you at least not flirt during a breach?”

“We’re not flirting,” you said, far too quickly. “We don’t flirt,” Bucky added.

A pause.

Natasha’s voice cut in, bone dry. “That’s funny. You were making heart eyes while dodging tripwires like it was a romantic tango.”

You smacked your forehead on the wall. Bucky visibly stopped breathing.

Sam cut back in. “Wait—heart what? What do you mean tango? Are you saying there was—?”

Suddenly Bucky kicked the door panel.

It sparked. The lights flickered. A loud clunk sounded.

The door opened.

Bucky turned to you, nodding very seriously. “Tactical success.”

You gave him a look. “You just panicked and kicked the wall.”

He gave you a little grin. “Worked, didn’t it?”

Natasha hummed over comms. “You two gonna keep making goo-goo eyes or are you gonna join the rest of us before Sam has a stroke?”

“I’m fine,” Sam said through clenched teeth. “I’m just saying. They’re suspiciously in sync lately. You saw them backflip in unison last mission.”

You and Bucky exchanged a quick look.

You had, in fact, practiced that move. In private. After several accidental crashes and at least one rug burn incident that required aloe.

Bucky cleared his throat. “We’re just good at teamwork.”

Sam scoffed. “You were holding hands.”

“We were anchoring each other.” “That's a combat grip,” you added helpfully.

There was a pause.

“Combat grip?” Sam repeated flatly. “I’m going to throw myself out a window.”

Later, everyone regrouped in the main server room.  The plan was to download intel and leave quietly.

Naturally, something exploded.

Now the lights were out, alarms were blaring, and everyone was sprinting through dim corridors lit only by emergency red glow.

You and Bucky split off (again) to find the backup drive.

Sam’s voice came through comms, exasperated. “Why do they always get sent off together? Every time. It’s like Mission: Secret Couple or something.”

You nearly ran into a wall.

“Excuse me?” you said, trying to sound offended and not like your heart just plummeted into your boots.

Bucky made a face at you, whispering. “Secret Couple is a terrible code name.”

You whispered back “Sounds like a dating app for spies.”

He grinned. You grinned.

You did not kiss.

But only because the walls had cameras. And the last time you kissed near Hydra tech, it triggered an alarm labeled "UNSANCTIONED BONDING ACTIVITY."

Still not over that.

Sam was still talking. “—and it’s always like ‘oh no, we accidentally got locked in this romantic storage closet again,’ or ‘oops, my hand slipped and I caught them emotionally gazing!’”

Natasha: “Wow. Sounds like you’re really keeping detailed logs.”

Sam: “IT’S SUSPICIOUS!”

Three minutes later, you and Bucky were climbing a ladder inside a narrow, dimly lit vent shaft. You were going up first, carefully placing your boots on the creaking metal rungs. Bucky was right behind you, unusually quiet for someone who usually had a sarcastic comment locked and loaded.

You paused briefly to adjust your grip. That was apparently enough time for chaos to erupt over comms.

"Just got eyes on Y/N and Barnes," Sam’s voice rang out, suspicious and way too smug. "They’re in Vent Shaft 7, heading north—wait. Why is Barnes looking up like that? Why’s he—OH COME ON."

You froze, forehead hitting the wall with a quiet thunk. "SAM. Do not read into this."

"There was a pause," Sam insisted, scandalized. "A full, lingering pause. With a view, Barnes."

Bucky, completely unbothered, replied, "Just making sure the ladder’s stable."

"Stable my ass! You were looking up like it was art, man. That was a neck-tilt of appreciation."

Natasha cut in, her voice dry as a martini. "Sam. Be honest. Are you mad because you think something’s going on... or because no one’s ever looked at you like that in a vent shaft?"

"EXCUSE ME?"

"Just saying, maybe if you wore less tactical gear and more emotional availability—"

"I will not be emotionally manipulated by the Human Blade of Sarcasm and her two suspiciously hoodie-sharing raccoons."

"...Did he just call us raccoons?" Bucky asked.

"I think so," you said.

"Honestly? Not mad about it."

"You do share a hoodie!" Sam jumped back in. "I asked you if it was your combat hoodie, and you said ‘Don’t worry about it.’"

"I wasn’t lying. It is combat-rated. For cuddles," Bucky said with a smirk.

"Tacti-cuddly," you added.

"I hate this. I hate all of this."

Natasha, casually: "You know, now that I think about it, I did see them split a breakfast burrito this morning."

"YOU WHAT—"

"And I took a bite too. Maybe it’s a cult. A burrito cult. Ever think of that?"

"I—what—I—OKAY. Polyamorous burrito cult. That makes so much more sense than whatever secret relationship you’re all denying!"

"Honestly? That’s kinda got a ring to it," you said.

"Can we get jackets made?" Bucky asked.

"Only if I get to design the logo," Natasha replied.

"I will unravel this mystery. I will," Sam grumbled.

"Looking forward to it, Detective Wilson," Natasha said sweetly.

"This is worse than that time you all gaslit me about the mission in Madrid."

"That was an actual hallucination," you reminded him. "You took cold meds and fought a vending machine."

"It took my change and lied about it!"

"Let it go, man," Bucky said.

"I need a new team," Sam muttered.

"You need a nap," Natasha said.

"Or a snack," Bucky added.

"Or therapy," you chimed in.

"I AM FINE."

Bucky glanced up again—brief, but noticeable. You looked down at him, trying to hide your grin.

"HEY! I saw that! That was another lingering pause!"

"I was checking to make sure he didn’t fall off the ladder," you said, deadpan.

"She’s just a very responsible coworker," Bucky added innocently.

"You’re all terrible liars."

"Actually," Natasha said, cool as ever, "they’re great liars. That’s what’s so impressive."

"I WILL FIGURE THIS OUT!" Sam practically shouted.

"Of course you will," Natasha replied, too-sweet to be sincere.

You and Bucky shared a quiet look.

"Think he’s gonna try to set a trap?" Bucky asked.

"Absolutely. Wanna beat him to it?"

Bucky grinned. "Always."

After the mission ended, everyone was seated. Exhausted. Quiet. Sam sat across from you and Bucky in the quinjet, arms folded, staring like a detective in the final five minutes of a Law & Order episode. You sat a safe six inches apart from Bucky, the kind of distance that said “not officially” but definitely “definitely.”

Then his hand slid over to rest lightly on your knee. Hidden. Barely touching.

Natasha saw it instantly. She didn’t say a word. She just slid her sunglasses down her nose and gave Sam a look that said, “Don’t even bother.”

Sam sighed, rubbed his temples, and whispered to himself, “There’s something going on. I know it. I can feel it in my spleen.”

Natasha deadpanned, “Maybe it’s indigestion.”

You smirked. “Maybe you’re just emotionally constipated.”

Bucky chuckled softly. “Maybe the real secret romance was the friends we gaslit along the way.”

Natasha raised her cup of jet coffee in a mock toast.

Sam looked so tired. And still: clueless.

Minutes later, Sam’s head lolled forward, and his eyes fluttered shut. The tension in the cabin eased as he slipped into sleep, snoring softly—a rare, vulnerable moment.

You glanced at Bucky, who was watching you with that slow, fond smile reserved just for you. His hand tightened just a bit on your knee, and before you knew it, you leaned against him, your shoulder resting gently against his arm. The world outside the quinjet melted away.

Bucky’s breath was warm on your temple as he whispered, “Finally, some peace.”

You smiled, heart full, and whispered back, “Mission accomplished.”

Natasha, ever the perfect mix of sarcastic and warm, glanced over and quipped, “Well, at least someone’s asleep before Sam figures out what’s really going on.”

You and Bucky exchanged a glance, grinning.

The quinjet hummed quietly around you, a gentle lull beneath the stars streaking past the windows. Bucky’s hand never left your knee, and you let yourself relax fully into the warmth of his presence.

“You are falling asleep, aren’t you?” you whispered, leaning your head gently against his shoulder.

He turned his face just enough so you could see the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “That’s just cause I’m comfortable,” he murmured. “You make me feel like I can.”

You smiled softly, heart swelling. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me. No backsies.”

Bucky’s fingers brushed lightly over your skin, thumb tracing lazy circles. “I like the sound of that.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “Promise me something?”

“Anything,” he said, voice low and steady.

“Next time Sam starts spouting nonsense about ‘emotional indigestion’ or ‘gaslighting,’ you’re the one who tells him to shut it. I’m officially outsourcing emotional labor.”

Bucky chuckled. “Deal. I’ll be the designated emotional bouncer.”

You tightened your grip on his hand and sighed happily. “You know, I think this might be the first time Sam’s fallen asleep mid-interrogation. What do you think that means?”

Bucky laughed softly. “He’s finally met his match.”

From behind you, Natasha’s quiet humming floated through the cabin, sounding suspiciously like a victory tune. Sam’s soft snore was rhythmic now, peaceful — a rare break from his usual intense energy.

You nestled closer, your cheek resting against Bucky’s warm arm. “It’s nice. Just… nice. No secrets. No guessing. Just us.”

“Exactly,” he said, voice soft as a whisper. “I like this. I like you.”

You smiled wider, squeezing his hand. “I like you too.”

Natasha’s voice piped up from the back, light and teasing, “And somewhere in the world, Sam’s still clueless and probably crying softly about a burrito.”

You and Bucky exchanged amused glances, eyes shining.

Clueless, but perfectly content.

Later, after the mission, after the jet touched down and everyone went their separate ways, you were finally curled up on the couch, warm, clean, and almost asleep.

Then your phone buzzed.

“SAM ADDED YOU TO A GROUP CHAT.”

You stared at the screen. The chat was called:

“stealth raccoons + sam”

Of course it was.

You opened it.

[Group Chat: stealth raccoons + sam] Members: Sam, You, Bucky, Natasha

Sam: this is now the official mission coordination thread. i need updates. and accountability. and transparency.

You: That’s a lot of feelings for a mission thread.

Bucky: Yeah, usually those just say “Van’s here” and “We’re being shot at.”

Sam: y’all think this is a joke. but i see things.👀

Natasha: Oh boy. The eyeballs are back. Everyone run.

Sam: i’m just saying the hoodie-sharing the synchronized exits THE BURRITO

You: Bold of you to keep bringing up the burrito like it didn’t emotionally wound you.

Sam: IT WAS A BETRAYAL IN THREE BITES

Bucky: Still mad I didn’t get the last bite tbh.

Sam: AHA YOU ADMIT YOU SHARED IT

Bucky: …we all shared it, Sam. Team nutrition.

Natasha: Sounds like love. I mean… loyalty. Definitely loyalty. 👀❤️👀

Sam: I WILL CATCH YOU I HAVE CAMERAS AND INSTINCTS AND VIBES

You: Vibes aren’t admissible in court, Sam.

Bucky: Unless you’re Judge Judy.

Sam: i am the judge and the jury and the petty god of group chat receipts

Natasha: Petty God is a great title for your next mission report.

Sam: don’t act like you’re innocent in this you’re always mysteriously nearby when they “accidentally” disappear into unmonitored zones

Natasha: Oh no. You’ve discovered my side hustle. Secret couple bodyguard slash chaos enabler. (And I look great doing it.)

Sam: Y/N. Barnes. one day. you’ll slip.

You: What if we already did and you missed it?

Bucky: What if we never did and you’re spiraling for nothing?

Sam: what if i block both of you and live in peace

Natasha: You won’t. You live for this. Sam: you’re all MENACES

You: Menaces in love? 🤷‍♀️

Sam: i hate this group chat but i refuse to leave i must monitor

Bucky: Aw. He loves us.

Sam: I SWEAR ON MY WINGS THE TRUTH WILL COME OUT THIS ISN’T OVER

[Sam has changed the group chat name to: “Operation: Truth & Betrayal”]

You: Ok now it sounds like a reality show.

Natasha: Or a band. Dibs on drums.

Bucky: Y/N sings. Obviously.

Sam: YOU’RE DEFLECTING AGAIN I’M WATCHING YOU

You stared at the group chat for a long second, thumb hovering over your screen.

Sam had just renamed it, for the third time in twenty minutes. The man was unraveling in real time.

You locked your phone and exhaled a slow, amused sigh.

From the couch across the room, Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. Sam renamed the chat again?”

“Yep,” you said. “I think he’s having a dramatic monologue in the kitchen.”

“He’s gonna start drawing red string across the wall soon.”

You padded over and dropped down next to him, letting your head fall onto his shoulder with a quiet laugh. “We’re menaces.”

Bucky smirked. “Secret menaces in love. Very stealthy.”

You grinned, reaching for his hand. “He’s never gonna catch us.”

And somewhere, several rooms away, Sam sneezed violently—like the universe had just dared him to prove you wrong.

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[stargirl230]

kaito screencap redraw! plus my favorite panel from the scarlet return arc lol

I've been reading detco for like 2 years and the unhealthy obsession fanart motivation finally caught up

(no reposts; reblogs appreciated)

[wwinterwitch]

friendly banter — bucky barnes

summary: sam asks for your help on a mission. you're reunited with him, Joaquín and Bucky. the last one really likes to banter. you think it's just a friendly exchange. it's actually a bit more than that

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader (+ platonic friendships with sam and joaquín)

word count: 5k

tags: friends to lovers, sharing feelings (awkward but cute), reader is a hacker and former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, fluff, undisclosed feelings (mutual), kissing

note: this was kind of a mess but i'm back after a long time on not writing any fics! i'm currently in my last months of studying to become a lawyer (yay) and writing fics has proven to be very therapeutic during this time. this may or may not suck but i enjoyed writing it so i hope you enjoy it

please reblog and/or comment if you enjoy!

all masterlists | marvel masterlist | part 2 (features the thunderbolts* now)

"Got eyes on it?"

You stop walking as soon as you hear that question, staring ahead in disbelief. "You mean...the huge panel in the middle of the room?" you ask with obvious sarcasm, trying to speak as quietly as possible through your comm as you make your way further inside the darkened room.

It’s a typical security room with tons of cameras pointing to every corner of the building. To your relief, the presence of your group is apparently still unnoticed as your eyes wander across the various screens in front of you, noticing no commotion or an unnecessarily large group of unfriendly-looking guys rushing to find you. The large panel control installed in the middle of the desk before you is the thing that immediately gets your attention as you walk closer, always keeping in mind the task at hand.

All you really have to do is hack into the system to disable the security protocols long enough for Sam and Joaquín to sneak into the top floors of the building to retrieve the data that they wanted from the bad guy's records in order to find out more about the gang they'll be (hopefully) putting behind bars soon.

This is not the first and definitely not the last time you'll be doing these kinds of favors for Sam. Your friendship goes way back, when you were still a nobody at S.H.I.E.L.D. that somehow managed to get on Captain America's good graces after that whole Washington fiasco. You're still unsure why Steve always thought so highly of you. Then again, he was the type of guy who never failed to see the potential in other people, even when they couldn't quite see it themselves.

Now, you get to help the new Captain America, who's also as dear to you as the previous one was...perhaps just a tiny bit more annoying, but one of your dearest friends regardless.

As you rush over to the panel, you have to jump over the unconscious body of a security guard that Bucky (another dear friend you met thanks to Steve) took care of before you walked inside, quickly taking a seat in front of the large keyboard to start doing your part of the job.

You hear the unmistakable chuckle from Joaquín as you quickly type in a series of codes and commands. "Jeez, I missed having you on our missions!"

"Awwh!" you mutter with genuine endearment. "I missed being part of these missions too, buddy!"

"And we're still going out for drinks after this, right?"

"Are you genuinely asking me that, Joaquín Torres?" you ask, sounding overly offended on purpose.

You hear him laugh again, but before he can say anything back, you hear Bucky interrupting the exchange. "How about we focus on not getting caught here and then you guys can discuss your night plans?"

"Uh-oh, old man got upset," you joke soon after, finishing to type in the last few codes to fully disable the security system. Surely they have some backup protocol that would soon trigger the alarm to alert these guys of an unwanted visitor, but by then all of you will be long gone. It really is a very simple mission.

"He's jealous you're not taking him out for drinks," Sam jokes back, and then you immediately hear Joaquín agreeing with him.

It's a normal occurrence for Sam to be making those kinds of jokes involving you and Bucky. He has been making those types of remarks for as long as you can remember, fully convinced the two of you "have something going on" as he has put it before. You really try not to think too much about it because, first off, Sam loves to say shit just for the sake of pissing you and Bucky off and, second...you really don't want to let those comments get to your head.

You don't want to let yourself wonder about the what if's of that. There was a time in your life when you did allow yourself to fantasize about the possibility of actually "having something going on" with him, but you learnt to shut off that part of your brain in order to avoid getting your hopes up regarding a situation that just wouldn't happen outside your imagination. Hearing Sam’s silly remarks would only bring you back to those days.

Bucky has been one of your best friends for years and he has never shown the slightest of hints that he might be interested in you in the way you would like (at least not that you're aware of), and there was absolutely no way that you would ever make the first move and risk embarrassing yourself in front of him or, even worse, losing the friendship you two have. You eventually just got comfortable in the abyss of eternal friendzone and learned to accept it. If there was ever going to happen something between the two of you, surely it would've happened by now.

Still, Sam seems to be holding onto that rope for dear life and refuses to let it go. You can't deny it’s a bit uncomfortable to hear those jokes though. They somehow make you feel like somehow you got caught and everyone knows you have a secret crush on Bucky, but you've learned to adapt over the years.

"First part's done.” Leaning back on the chair, you watch the percentage bar on the screen before you, completely ignoring Sam's little joke. "A few more seconds and you're up guys!"

"Hallway’s clear," you hear Bucky say, still guarding the room where you're currently in. "How much time do we have to get out of here?"

"Uh...I can't say for sure. Anywhere near five to thirty, maybe?"

"Minutes?"

"Seconds."

"Oh, great," he mutters ironically.

"Well, I'm sorry. We're hacking into a very sophisticated system that I don't entirely know how it works!" you snap back at him. "Besides, the whole point of this is to give Joaquín and Sam enough time to sneak inside without having to deal with a bunch of guards going straight for them. Bad guys will know we're down here and they'll come looking for us first."

"Isn't hacking your whole thing? How do you not know how it works?" he asks, and just by the tone of his voice you know he's trying to piss you off, because he knows that's exactly the type of comments that would make you upset. If that type of comment came from a stranger you would be strangling them right now, but it’s Bucky, and he seems to enjoy annoying the shit out of you.

"Big talk coming from someone who still asks for my help because he barely knows how to unlock his own phone."

The sound of his faint chuckle immediately makes you smile, perfectly picturing the way he's probably rolling his eyes just barely right now, trying to suppress a smirk as if you could possibly see him right now, knowing he hates when you point it out to him.

"You have to give me some credit, though. I know how to program emails on that thing now. Soon enough I'll be taking your job, so you better watch out."

You can't help but laugh at his reply, slightly shaking your head as you realize you’re getting distracted by him, trying to keep your focus on what you're supposed to be doing right now rather than indulge in a never ending back-and-forth with him. As soon as you type the last codes and the large SECURITY SYSTEM: DISABLED alert pops on the monitor, you quickly rise up from your seat. "You're up guys, hurry!"

"On it!" Sam replies as you rush outside the room.

Before he even says anything to you, Bucky is quickly guiding you down the hallway with the intent of getting out of there as soon as possible, turning to look at you with a confused expression when you stop walking and, instead, start yanking his arm to go in the opposite direction.

"What are you doing?"

"The exit is that way," you point out as if it’s obvious.

He looks even more confused now, and slightly annoyed. "Don't think so. That's the way we entered, but there's another way of leaving this place a lot faster."

"No, we can't change the plan!"

He definitely looks annoyed now, trying not to snap at you. "I'm not changing the plan. Exiting that way has always been the plan. If we go that way, we'll-"

Before he can say anything else, the loud sound of an alarm blasts through the entire building, signaling that you've been discovered and you'll be having company very soon. As if that wasn't enough, the door of the room you were previously in opens violently, and the guard that was previously unconscious on the floor is frantically alerting more people through his radio.

“Oh, that’s great,” you point out, slightly panicking right now because you’re still inside the building. “You decided to wake up early, huh?”

Bucky immediately grabs the guy by his bulletproof vest to throw him against the wall, taking his barely regained consciousness to his advantage. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice about six other guys coming towards you, turning around the same corner you wanted to run towards as part of your escape plan. Sadly, that's when you realized maybe the direction Bucky was suggesting was better.

You’re unsure of what to do now. It's not like you haven't been taught how to take down a few bad guys, but your specialities have always involved computers rather than physical combat. Almost as if he could read your mind, Bucky turns towards you for a quick second. "Go! I'll catch up to you." Again, almost as if he knew that you'd try to ask if he was sure about it, he immediately shouts yet another "Go!" before you're finally deciding to do as he says, running down the hall in the direction he has intended to go before.

Hours later, second after second that passes by, you’re more and more convinced that you'll never hear the end of it. If only you could go back in time and just agree with Bucky's plan rather than trying to argue with him. It would have spared you a lifetime of him reminding you how he was right and you were wrong.

Turns out his exit plan was the one you should've followed all along, because it actually led to the engine room which immediately meant being in a much less crowded part of the building to escape without risking bumping into more people.

All of you had enough time to change into something more comfortable to go out for drinks. Initially it was something you and Joaquín had planned alone, but evidently the two of you didn’t hesitate to invite Sam and Bucky. Of course they accepted the invite, and of course Bucky has done his very best to keep reminding you of your little mistake.

"Listen, if you don't want shit like that to happen again, just let me know your plan beforehand."

"But I did let you know. The problem is that someone is not really a good listener."

"No. Letting me know- like, properly letting me know, would've been telling me before we got inside that building."

Bucky smirks as he leans back on his chair, and it's obvious to you he's really enjoying this banter. "Plan changed at the last minute. If you would've just followed my lead, we could've left that building a lot faster."

"Ah, so you do recognize that wasn't the original plan!" you exclaim with a triumphant grin, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "You changed it all by yourself and didn't tell me."

"Changed at the last minute," he repeats, as if to correct you. "You wanted me to stand there and explain every detail to you?"

"Oh, as if explaining it would've taken you hours! You’re always so dramatic."

"Children," Sam commented, interrupting the banter with an unamused expression. "I had to trust the operation to literal children."

Bucky scoffs at that comment, watching as Sam lets out a chuckle, shaking his head after witnessing this whole interaction between the two of you.

"Kinda makes you appreciate having an actual professional around, huh?" Joaquín says right after, flashing a charming smile in Sam's direction.

"Oh, please!" you, Bucky and Sam reply in unison, earning an offended look from Joaquín.

Soon after, Bucky is speaking again. "You know what? I'll give you some credit. You managed to do your part of the job…decently."

It’s obvious he wants a reaction from you, but even if your banter is entertaining, you know you can't keep bickering the entire night. Once again, you can’t help but to feel embarrassed, as if everyone at that table knows your little secret regarding your feelings towards Bucky. As if some innocent banter between friends could ever give it away. Besides, the four of you are here to celebrate your mission was a success, and the fact that you haven't seen the trio in a long time makes it the perfect opportunity to catch up.

Pretending to fully ignore his last comment, you turn to look at Sam from across the table. "You. I haven't seen your lovely face in a while," you start, watching him physically get ready for whatever silly comment you might come up with. "Tell me what you've been up to...I've seen the photos of you shaking hands with the President," the reference to Everett Ross sounding anything but endearing.

Sam sighs, shrugging. "Yeah, well, I guess you can say it's part of the job," he simply replies before taking a quick sip of his beer. "I can't say I'm thrilled about it, but I figured it's best to compromise a bit and keep the man happy. As long as he stays in line, I'll cooperate."

"Of course you're not thrilled about it, Sam. That's the same guy that put your ass in a prison in the middle of nowhere like you were some kind of top security criminal!" you reply almost immediately, still in disbelief at the revelation of any sort of alliance between him and Ross. Sam's expression lets you know that even he is still conflicted about it, not really knowing what to say. After taking a brief pause, you try to say something else to lighten the mood, not wanting him to think like you’re judging him for it. "Hey, I understand having to keep up appearances. I get it. And please accept my deepest condolences for having to deal with that piece of shit."

Your last comment makes the three of them laugh, and Bucky takes the opportunity to change the subject. "And what have you been up to?" he asks, sounding genuinely curious. "It's been a while since any of us has seen you."

"Well, my life has been all over the place the last few months. As all of you know, I moved into a new apartment. I loved my roommate, but I felt it was time to just live by myself, you know?"

"So no plans of leaving New York to move to D.C., huh?" Joaquín asks with a smile.

You return the smile immediately. "As fun as it would be to live closer to all of you weirdos, no. I plan to stay in New York for now. I'm just really comfortable there with the new apartment, the promotion I got a few months ago, the fact that most of my family and friends are there..."

"But not all your friends," Sam quickly points out, pretending to sound incredibly offended by your last statement. "But since we’re talking about friends and just social life in general...are you still single?"

"Why are you always so interested in my love life?" you joke with a playful grin, taking a sip of your margarita to leave him wondering the answer just a few seconds more. "Yes, I'm still single. Queen's full of creeps," you added shortly after. "Are any of you seeing anybody?"

"Proudly and happily single," Joaquín replies, raising his drink up as if to cheer before taking a sip.

Sam gives him a very visible side-eye. "Yikes," is all he says regarding that, turning back to you. "I'm not interested in dating right now, to be honest. I’m quite a busy gentleman, you know?" 

“And you say ‘yikes’ to me?” Joaquín says immediately after, looking dumbfounded.

You chime in before any of them could add anything else regarding that. “Bucky?” you ask, turning to look at him as you await his answer.

It was a bold move to directly ask him that question. On one hand, you know Bucky has always been a loner so you’re almost certain that he’s single. But there’s always that tiny percentage of probability that you’ll learn a truth you’re not sure how you’ll handle. He’s your best friend, of course you’ll be happy if he’s happy…but the idea of him revealing to you that he’s dating someone might actually make you physically sick.

You notice Bucky gets uncomfortable right away. “I’m single too.”

The pleasant feeling of relief lasts just a few seconds. The fact that Sam laughs at Bucky’s reply has your mind spinning, not understanding why he would laugh at that. Why the fuck is he laughing? Should you start panicking already?

"Actually, our buddy has been on a few dating apps, I believe."

Oh no. 

Even when you try to remind yourself not to care about anything remotely romantic involving Bucky- or at least, not to care more than a platonic friend would, you can deny the news of him possibly dating someone or even just randomly talking to any person in those apps makes your stomach turn. It really wouldn't be dramatic to claim that you could quite literally throw up right now at the thought of him and someone else right now.

It's not common to hear any sort of updates regarding Bucky's love life because...well, there's never any developments. He's never shown interest in anyone, and as far as you know he's never had any sort of relationship with anyone like that– serious or casual. What if he's interested in exploring that part of his life now? What if he has found someone already and you're about to hear him talk all about them? It makes you genuinely sick, but you try your best to act as unbothered as you possibly can, forcing you to mask your disgust and heartbreak with pleasant surprise.

"Is that so?" is all you say.

He looks even more uncomfortable by the subject, choosing to look down at his almost finished beer. "It's not...I was just trying to put myself out there," he says awkwardly, shrugging. "Long story short, online dating is not for me. I hated it."

You could tell he doesn’t really like talking about this subject, so you try to quickly ease the tension with a bit of humor. Besides, you're probably better off without hearing anything regarding that topic anyway. "It's because you couldn't figure out how the whole swiping thing worked, isn't it?"

Bucky immediately seems to relax with your joke, chuckling a bit. "It took me a few days actually." He takes a quick pause before continuing. "I probably should've asked you for help."

If there was any hidden message behind his last statement, it completely goes over your head because you genuinely thought it was just part of your playful banter regarding his lack of skills when it comes to technology. You laugh, and in return Bucky offers you a smile because that's as much hinting as he dares to do out loud, especially if Sam and Joaquín are sitting right there. He's incredibly used to you never getting his subtle implications anyway.

In front of you, the other two guys are watching this exchange unfold, and it's hard to tell which one of them has a bigger urge to tell you to stop being so fucking oblivious already. As subtle as he can be, Joaquín pokes Sam's side with his elbow to give him a quick heads-up before speaking. "Considering everyone's almost finished, Sam and I are getting another round of drinks."

The two of them are standing up when they notice you're grabbing your purse and standing up as well. "Oh, I can go with you. I have to go to the restroom anyway."

The two of them want to yet again yell at you to please get a grip on the situation, but Sam just silently takes a seat as you and Joaquín go over to the bar, quickly telling him what you want to order before heading towards the restroom.

A few drinks later the four of you are finally leaving the bar. Sam and Joaquín left to their respective houses while you and Bucky shared an Uber back to his own place. He was kind enough to let you crash in his spare room for the night. It's not like this is the first time you've ever stayed at his apartment when you visit the boys, but you can't deny the idea is both thrilling and terrifying- not like anything would happen to make you feel like that...you two are just friends...but, still...your silly head likes to get silly ideas sometimes.

Deciding not to indulge in your little fantasies, you decide to start a conversation. "Update on the food?" you ask, turning to look at Bucky, who sits comfortably on the sofa of his living room.

"Like ten minutes away," he says, taking a quick look at the screen. "How come you haven't congratulated me for knowing how to order food with this thing?" he added with evident surprise, making you chuckle.

"Because you keep saying 'this thing' like it's some mysterious device completely unknown to mankind," you reply, and before you can stop yourself, you continue. "It's cute, I guess, so congratulations."

Bucky's grin grows wider. "Oh, so it's cute?"

You try really hard not to panic, feeling incredibly embarrassed. The fact that he seems to be enjoying what you just said makes it even worse, because you know he’ll use that to tease you now. He just finds any possible excuse to do it. "Cute as in lame."

He chuckles. "Right."

Not knowing what else to say, you clear your throat before walking towards him, taking a seat next to him as you try to come up with something else to change the subject immediately. "I'm starving," is all you say, mentally scolding you for such a poor effort.

As soon as you're sitting, you unsuccessfully try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach when he leans just a bit closer...perhaps if you weren't hyper vigilant whenever the two of you are too near you might've missed it. And then, he stretches his arm across the back of the sofa, right behind you.

For a second, you even thought of mocking him for such a move, but bringing more attention to it would only make you that much nervous, and you really don't want to embarrass yourself. And most importantly, you don't want your silly mind and your silly heart to get their hopes up. You're just friends, nothing else.

"Me too," he agrees, the playful grin on his face still not disappearing. "Might have to steal a few fries from you."

"Oh, I'd really like to see you try stealing my food," you reply in the same playful tone, leaning just a little closer to him without even noticing that you were actually doing that.

"I think I deserve some compensation after what happened today. You know, for all the unnecessary ass-kicking I had to do."

"Just when I thought you had moved on from that!" you reply, jokingly slapping his knee. "It wasn't my fault, it was yours for not telling me the plan on time!"

"You should've just trusted me," he insists. "But you always have to be right on everything..."

You know he's joking. There's something about bantering with you that seems to absolutely fascinate him. "Yeah, and you always want to piss me off."

Bucky chuckles again, and that's when you feel his hand gently resting on your shoulder, his arm fully around you. What the actual fuck is going on. "What, you think I like pissing you off?" he asks, tone slightly lower than before, which inevitably makes the butterflies in your stomach multiply. "Is that why you think I do it?"

You were quiet for a moment, your brain not entirely registering what's happening. "I mean...yeah."

He stops for a second, and you almost see a hint of hesitation on his face before he speaks, letting out a frustrated sigh. "For someone who claims to be so much more clever than anyone else, I would've expected you to figure it out sooner," he starts, shaking his head with a soft smile. "I've been actually flirting with you, doll."

The comment evidently takes you by surprise and all you can do is to stare back at him like a complete fool. His arm around your shoulders, the proximity, the fact he had the fucking audacity to call you that nickname...did you somehow fall asleep on his couch without noticing and this is the type of oddly-realistic dream your brain decided to come up with? Are you still standing there like a fool just fantasizing and this one just got way too immersive? And did he really just say that he's been flirting with you?

Noticing you weren't saying anything, he decides to continue, looking a little hesitant and disappointed with your silence. "You know, it'd be really nice if you say something..."

"Awful way to flirt," is all you could come up with, which immediately makes him burst out laughing. 

"Maybe," he agrees. "But I can’t believe you didn’t figure it out. I mean…Sam and Joaquín did a long time ago."

"The three of you share the same brain cell, of course they figured it out a long time ago,” you reply, still in complete shock to be having this conversation with him. Were you really that blind? "You could’ve just asked me."

"You know I'm not direct like that," he replies, and the shy look on his face almost makes your heart melt. "Like I said, I was relying on your impressive intelligence to figure it out."

You let out a soft chuckle after his last comment, immediately giving him a warning look. "Don't." He looks back at you for a few seconds, almost wanting to challenge you after noticing the way you’re looking at him. Soon enough, he’s unable to hide his smirk anymore. "There it is," you point out, knowing he hates that.

Bucky lets out a soft grunt as a complaint, resting his head on your shoulder. Encouraged, you immediately move a hand up to his hair, affectionately playing with it. The two of you stay like that, simply enjoying being so close to each other. It feels incredibly right.

"So how do you feel?" he eventually asks, perhaps feeling braver to ask now that he doesn’t have to look into your eyes when he does.

You don’t reply right away, still feeling incredibly nervous despite knowing he does like you back. Eventually, you do build up the courage to say something. "I like you. Like, a lot."

Bucky moves back to look at you know. The look on his face gives you the impression that he wasn’t expecting you to be so honest with your answer, perhaps expecting another silly joke or sarcastic remark. And even though you thought about the possibility of choosing a more humorous approach, after keeping your feelings for him locked up and stored away for so long, you really needed to just say it.

Instead of saying something back, Bucky tightens his grip around your shoulders just enough, using his other hand to grab your chin right before kissing you. It certainly takes you by surprise, but you're quickly returning the kiss as you just completely melt in his arms, still trying to convince yourself that this is not some kind of hyper-realistic dream.

His hand swiftly moves to your cheek as the kiss continues, the gesture so incredibly delicate, a sharp contrast with the pure need he’s transmitting through the kiss. It’s desperate, passionate, intense…like he’s been waiting an entire lifetime to finally be able to experience this, grateful for the absolute privilege that it is to kiss you.

One of your hands moves up to the back of his neck and your touch seems to encourage him that much more because before you know it, he's taking the opportunity to gently bite your bottom lip, right before continuing to make out with you.

Much to yours and Bucky's disappointment, the sound of his apartment's doorbell echoes through the apartment, indicating the food you previously ordered has arrived.

He reluctantly pulls away with a soft grunt. "Food's here," he comments out loud, offering you a soft smile. He takes a brief moment to look at you, brushing his thumb against your cheek in an affectionate manner, dreading the idea of having to leave this couch. "I'll get it."

"I can help," you offer almost immediately.

Instead of replying right away, he leans in for a short kiss. "I'll get it," he insists, quickly making his way to the door after another buzz could be heard.

You sat in his living room in complete disbelief of what just happened, thankful that he's not here right now to see your goofy smile and blushed cheeks. He'd probably tease you to no end if he did see that.

Not knowing what else to do, you immediately reach for your phone, opening your messages. You knew exactly who would be the right people to share the news with.

'uhm so we just kissed??????' you texted, the first message in the group chat you just created with Sam and Joaquín.

Joaquín is the first one to reply. 'HELL YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!'

'FUCKING FINALLY.' Sam texts shortly after.

[teeth-draws]

Riel, busting Blade’s door down: Did you send out an official notice equating PDA to TREASON?

Blade, steepling his fingers: Something Had To Be Done

———

The GIF conversation messed with my COLOURS I’m devastated but I didn’t draw it out to do nothing with it… CLICK IF THE IMAGE IS BLURRY!

Disclaimer: I used chat GPT to write the poster and then added bits. I could never in my life come up with the line “PDA is a dagger in the back of your unit” lmao I’m fkn crying

This was meant to be the first picture in a series but ummm idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Rising from the dead to doodle my favourite boy from @shepherds-of-haven

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

So I just saw that you want an ask about plus size reader and f1 driver👀 I'm a Lando Norris fan so can I please ask about him? Maybe plus size reader is his physical therapist and looks after him and makes him happy and he in return is so down bad that if anyone says or does sth disrespectful he is so defensive he always has her back and he shows that he loves her every single minute ❤️ I really hope you have many plus size reader asks cause as a midsize girl myself I really don't see many fics to represent us

All the ways you look at me||Lando Norris x mid size reader

Summary —Y/N lands the job as Lando Norris’s physical therapist, neither of them expects much beyond rehab sessions and recovery plans. But as shared glances turn into inside jokes and late-night conversations, a quiet friendship begins to blossom—one that tiptoes into something deeper to bad they are scared to take the fall into something more than friendship.

Word count—8k

Thank you @fuckoffbard for reading this for me!

A/n—depending on how well this does I’ll do a part two

"Come on. You can do this. It’s your first day meeting everyone; you’ve had plenty of first days, so this should be easy,” Y/n said to herself. She sat in the parking lot of the McLaren Technology Centre, where she was to meet her new team. Taking a deep breath, she let it out and opened her eyes. “Okay, I’m ready.” She opened the door to her car, stepped out, grabbed her iced coffee, badge, and bag, and walked to the building. 

The scenery was beautiful. The McLaren Technology Center was secluded from the rest of civilization in a big field hidden behind trees. There were two buildings: the factory itself and the headquarters. That's where she was going.

 Walking up the pathway, she admired the bean-shaped building with the little pond that was next to it. It was definitely something she could get used to seeing on a daily basis. Once she was up to the door, she took out her badge and put it up to the scanner to open the door. As the door opened, she was welcomed by the nice, cool air and the beautiful interior of the building. 

The lobby was filled with F1 cars and cars that McLaren had produced over the years. To the right of her was the staircase and the elevator that led to the second floor, and in front of her were the trophy cases that held all the trophies that the team had won over the years. The building was truly beautiful with its simple and futuristic design. 

“Can I help you?” A voice snapped her out of her thoughts. 

She cleared her throat and held out her hand. “Yes, hi, I’m Y/n, I’m the new physical therapist. I’m here for the team meeting. I'm supposed to meet everyone.” 

The owner of the voice shook her hand and spoke softly but friendly, “Hello y/n, I’m Sarah, I’m part of the social media team. I’m heading that way so I can help you get there.” Sarah said, shaking Y/n's hand.

“Oh, that would be lovely, thank you,” Y/n replied with a smile. 

Sarah led Y/N through a maze of corridors and open workspaces, the hum of quiet conversations and the occasional keyboard tapping following them as they walked.

“This place is like a spaceship,” Y/n murmured as she looked around.

Sarah laughed. “Right? Wait until you see the simulator room. Total sci-fi vibes.”

They stopped outside a wide conference room with frosted glass panels through the translucent windows. She could see shadows shifting and hear a few muffled voices from inside. 

“You’ll be great.” Sarah said, giving her a small nudge, “Come on.” 

Y/N took one last calming breath and stepped inside.

The room was already half full—engineers, mechanics, PR staff. A few people turned to glance at her as she entered, their expressions curious but friendly. At the far end of the table, there were two guys, one was balancing his chair on its two back legs while trying and failing to balance his pencil on his nose. The other one had an unimpressed look on his face while trying not to smile or laugh at the other’s antics. 

Y/N immediately knew who they were—Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri. Even without the uniforms and team gear, their energy gave them away.

She took a moment to observe them from where she stood, unnoticed for now. Lando had that easy, magnetic kind of charm—the type that could dissolve tension with a grin and a well-timed joke. He moved with confidence, expressive hands, and animated eyes, clearly the kind of person who filled a room without even trying.

Next to him, Oscar was a striking contrast. He was quieter, his posture more composed, his words more measured. While Lando spoke with his whole body, Oscar listened with stillness. His eyes were sharp and observing, like he was always a few steps ahead in his head, even when he didn’t say much.

They worked like a natural counterbalance. Lando brought the lightness, Oscar the grounding. It was a rhythm—one teased, the other gave dry comebacks; one stirred things up, and the other reined them in without needing to say much. And somehow, it worked.

“They’re like opposites, but at the same time, they work so well together.” Y/N thought, a small smile tugging at her lips. 

 Suddenly, she felt a little less nervous. Because despite their differences, there was something oddly comforting about the way they fit together. Like maybe this place wasn’t going to be so intimidating after all.

Especially if Lando kept looking at her the way he just did.

His head tilted slightly like he was trying to place her. His eyes flicked from her face to the badge clipped to her shirt and back up again. Then he smiled—lazy, crooked, and so bright it made her stomach flip.

“You must be the new Physio,” he said, “I was starting to think they were making you up.” 

Y/n blinked slightly, off guard by the friendliest tone of his voice. 

“Nope, very real. I even brought an iced coffee and everything.” She joked, holding up her iced coffee and giving it a little shake. 

A few people chuckled, the tension easing, and Lando's smile widened. 

“Then we’re going to get along just fine.” 

Zak Brown stood and clapped his hands for attention.

“Everyone, this is Y/N. She’s officially joining us this season as part of the performance and health team—working closely with you, Lando.”

“Lucky me,” Lando muttered with a grin.

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully.

“We’ll see how lucky you feel after your first deep tissue session.”

More laughter followed, and a few people around the table gave her nods of approval or polite greetings. Someone even muttered, “Bold move on day one,” with a grin.

As the meeting began and the briefing started, Lando leaned slightly toward her seat, voice low so only she could hear.

“Seriously, though. Welcome. We’re glad to have you.”

She turned her head just enough to meet his eyes.

“Thanks. I’m glad to be here.”

But her heart was racing. Because while she came here expecting professionalism and a great work performance, she hadn’t expected him.

Over the course of the few months that Y/N joined McLaren, she really had made her mark on the team. She and Sarah are quickly becoming friends, the two of you often meeting up for coffee dates and other things that friends do. 

Y/N’s office doubled as her Physio room, in the corner was her desk with her laptop and a couple of other personal items that made the space truly hers. On the other side of the room was a table where the mats, foam roller, and other supplies sat, and in the center was the padded table. 

Y/n was reviewing Landos' training notes Landos's trainer sent to her tablet when the door creaked open. 

“Morning,” came that familiar voice—soft, a little smug, a little sleepy.

She glanced up. “You’re late.”

Lando strolled in like he wasn’t, tossing his water bottle on the bench. “You’re early.” 

Y/N raised a brow unimpressed “Try that again but imagine that I haven’t heard it from every cocky athlete I’ve worked with.” 

He grinned, “touché” 

She nodded towards the mat, “Shoes off, warm-up stretches, let’s go.”

He obeyed, stretching his arms overhead and settling onto the mat with an exaggerated groan. “You’re scarier than my last physio.”

“That’s because your last physio didn’t have to deal with you constantly flirting with him.” 

“True. He didn’t look this good, either.” Lando remarked, admiring Y/N’s curves. 

God, he would give anything just to hold her—to let his hands rest on her hips, fingers curling around the softness he admired far more than he probably should. She was all curves and comfort and warmth, and it was unfair how often his mind drifted to her when he was supposed to be focused.

He swore she was made for him. It just made sense. His hands were big—meant to anchor, to hold, to fit—and when he looked at her, he couldn’t help but imagine how perfectly she’d settle against him.

His thoughts flicked back to three months ago when they’d trained together outside under the sun. She’d worn those leggings—the ones that clung just right, hugging the shape of her legs, her thighs, her hips. He remembered watching her move, muscles working under soft curves, grace and power woven together. He hadn’t meant to stare. But he did.

And the worst part?

He still remembered how she’d smiled at him afterward. She didn’t even realize the way she knocked the air out of his lungs.

Y/n didn’t even blink when she turned to face him. “Flirting won’t save you from the foam rollers.”

“Damn.” He gave her a mock-wounded look. “You are immune.”

Truthfully, she wasn’t. Not even close. But she had a job to do. 

Y/N crouched beside him, guiding his leg into position. “How’s the left quad feeling?”

He shifted slightly. “Tight. Not awful, though.”

“Alright. Let me know if anything feels off.”

Her hands moved to his thigh, fingers firm but practiced as she applied pressure, feeling for tension. He stilled a little under her touch, his gaze flickering down to her.

“Are you always this focused?” he asked quietly.

Her brows lifted. “Are you always this chatty during treatment?”

“Only when I’m trying not to think about your hands being on my leg.”

That earned him a warning look, though the corner of her mouth twitched. “Behave.”

He smiled—but it was softer this time. Not smug. Not cocky. Just…warm.

For a moment, silence settled between them, the only sound the quiet hum of the AC and the shuffle of movement. She moved around him to adjust his arm, her fingers brushing his skin.

He looked up at her. “You’re good at this.”

She paused. “Thanks. It means a lot. Especially from someone who can’t sit still for longer than a minute.”

He chuckled. “I sit still for you.”

That stopped her. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and something in his expression made her chest tighten. It wasn’t teasing. It was sincere.

Dangerous, that kind of sincerity.

Y/N cleared her throat and stepped back slightly. “Alright. Upon the table. Let’s check that shoulder mobility.”

Lando obeyed with a faint smirk. “Yes, boss.”

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks felt warm.

And he noticed. Of course, he noticed. He’d always noticed. 

Truth is, Lando loved the way her face flushed, and then she bit her bottom lip trying not to give him the satisfaction that he made her feel this way, she was never successful. 

And he found it adorable. 

Y/N stepped around the table to check the alignment of Lando’s shoulders, her fingertips pressing lightly along his upper back. “Drop your right shoulder just a bit,” she murmured.

He obeyed, head tilted slightly toward her. “You know, you’re very serious when you’re in work mode.”

“That’s because I am working,” she replied, eyes flicking up toward him.

“Yeah, but like—intensely serious. Like mission control, seriously. I bet you’d threaten to take someone’s kneecaps if they did a stretch wrong.”

She snorted. “I’ve never threatened kneecaps. Hamstrings, though? Fair game.”

Lando grinned at that, leaning back slightly on his elbows, watching her as she made a few notes on her tablet. “You must be fun at parties.”

“I’m a riot,” she said dryly, glancing up. “But only if someone needs help foam rolling their Iliotibial band.”

“That sounds like a threat.”

“It was.”

He laughed, and for a moment it felt easy—normal. The line between physio and friend blurred slightly in the warmth of their shared amusement.

Y/N set the tablet down and nodded toward the floor again. “Back to the mat. Let’s work on hip mobility.”

He groaned but complied, flopping onto his back dramatically. “You just like bossing me around.”

“It’s not that I like it,” she said, kneeling beside him, “It’s that you’d be hopeless without me.”

He blinked up at her with mock offense. “Hopeless? Excuse me—I am an elite athlete.”

“Who forgot how to do a proper glute bridge three weeks ago?”

“That was one time.”

“Twice.”

Lando gave her an exaggerated glare, then pointed at her. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“Oh?” she teased, adjusting his knee with a light touch. “Is that why you’re being so dramatic this morning?”

“No, that’s just who I am.” He gave her a soft grin. “But seriously—I do like working with you. You’re not like the others.”

Y/N paused, hands still on his leg. “Is that a compliment or a red flag?”

“A compliment,” he said, softer this time. “Most people treat me like a brand. You treat me like… I don’t know. A human.”

For a beat, their eyes met again. It wasn’t flirtatious-not-not-not-not-not-not—not really. Just honest.

“I guess I figure you already have enough people telling you what you want to hear,” she said quietly.

His smile widened a little, less cocky now. “You’d tell me if I sucked at something, huh?”

“Absolutely. No hesitation.”

“See?” He gestured vaguely. “Hopeless without you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at her lips. She pressed gently on his hip, making him flinch.

“Hey! Abuse!”

“Mobility,” she corrected.

“You enjoy this way too much.”

“Only when you whine.”

He grinned up at her again, and for a second, something warm settled between them. It was subtle. Easy. The beginning of something unspoken.

Once the session was over, Lando dropped onto the bench near the corner of Y/N’s office, sweat dampening the edges of his curls as he reached for his water bottle. Y/N tossed him a clean towel from a nearby shelf.

“Here,” she said, settling onto the floor across from him with her bottle. “Try not to collapse dramatically on my floor next time. I might not be so kind.”

He caught the towel with a grin. “You love it. Gives you an excuse to roll your eyes at me.”

She took a long sip of her water. “You give me plenty of those without nearly fainting mid-stretch.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Okay, that was one time.”

“Twice, actually, and you faked it. Both times,” she replied with a smirk.

“I did not.”

“Yes, you did.”

He pointed at her, mock offended. “You and Oscar are going to start a club at this rate.”

“‘The Times Lando Was Wrong’ club? I think there’s already a group chat.”

Lando laughed, head tipping back slightly. “God, you do fit in here.”

She blinked at him, surprised by the softness in his voice.

“I mean it,” he added, more quietly now. “The team likes you. It’s been…lighter since you showed up.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed slightly. “Lighter?”

“Yeah. You bring this kind of energy—like, calm but still sharp, you know? It’s a good balance.”

She wasn’t used to compliments like that, especially not ones that sounded so genuine.

“Well,” she said after a beat, “someone’s got to balance your chaos.”

He smiled at that. “You calling me chaotic?”

“I’m calling you exhausting.”

He laughed again, eyes crinkling. “You’re mean.”

“Only to the ones I like.”

He looked at her for a moment—looked. And for once, he didn’t shoot back a flirty line or a joke. Just smiled.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said simply.

Her breath caught. But then she smiled too, soft and a little surprised.

“Me too.”

They sat in the quiet for a few seconds longer, sipping water, the faint hum of the building in the background. Outside the window, the sun was high, casting soft shadows on the floor.

“I’ll probably regret saying this,” Lando said after a moment, “but you can drag me through those stretches again next time if you want.”

“Oh, I will,” she promised.

“God help me,” he muttered, shaking his head—but he was still smiling.

A few days later, Y/N and Sarah sat at an outdoor café nestled on a quiet street in Woking, the warm spring air wrapping around them like a soft sweater. The table was cluttered with two half-drunk iced coffees, a slice of cake they were sharing, and the occasional gust of wind that kept threatening to blow Sarah’s napkin off the table.

“I swear,” Sarah said between bites, “if we keep meeting here, the barista is going to start calling us regulars.”

Y/N grinned, pulling her cardigan tighter around her. “We already are. The barista knows our order.I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“God, you’re right. That’s dangerous.” Sarah paused to sip her coffee, then gave Y/N a look over the rim of her cup. “Speaking of danger…”

Y/N raised a brow. “What is it?”

“Look who’s here.”

Y/N turned her head—and sure enough, Lando was walking across the street, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, curls a little messy, sunglasses perched on his head. He hadn’t spotted them yet, distracted by something on his phone.

Sarah leaned closer, conspiratorial. “He looks relaxed. Like really relaxed. Must be your influence.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her cheeks warmed. “Stop.”

“I’m serious! I’ve worked with him for years, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this chill during a season. You’re good for him. He listens to you.”

Y/N snorted. “That’s because I threaten him with foam rollers and ice baths.”

Sarah laughed. “Maybe, but it works. You’re a good team, you know?”

Before Y/N could respond, Lando looked up and spotted them.

A wide grin immediately spread across his face, and he jogged the last few steps over to their table.

“Well, well, well,” he greeted, dropping into the empty chair beside Y/N without asking. “Didn’t expect to see you two here. Or should I say, the office dream team?”

Sarah raised her brows. “Crashing girl time? Bold move.”

He shot her a cheeky grin. “What can I say? I live on the edge.”

Y/N nudged his leg with her foot under the table. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Canceling all plans immediately,” he said, propping his elbow on the table and resting his chin in his hand. “Unless you’re kicking me out.”

Y/N bit back a smile, and Sarah just gave her a look—the kind that said this is exactly what I meant.

They chatted for a while, laughter threading easily through the conversation. Lando didn’t even seem to notice how comfortable he looked, slouched in his chair, legs stretched out, occasionally stealing bites of their cake. It felt natural. Uncomplicated.

And when Y/N caught Sarah looking at her with a knowing smirk, she just shook her head with a laugh and looked away.

Late nights had become something of a routine for them now. It started with playful iMessage games—8 Ball, Cup Pong, Darts. A way to unwind after long days. Eventually, the games were followed by texts, then voice notes, then full-blown calls that stretched into the early hours of the morning.

Y/N had learned a lot about Lando during those calls. How he hated olives but loved olive oil. He always watched one episode too many when he promised he’d go to bed early. How silence didn’t scare him, and how his laughter sometimes sounded like relief.

They’d grown close.

So close when the new season began, and she started to notice him pulling away—she noticed.

He was Lando, still cheeky and warm and kind. But now there was a weight behind his smile. A slump in his shoulders when he thought no one was looking. Most of all, there was tension in how quiet he got when scrolling through his phone, the way his jaw would tighten, thumb hovering over a screen that never seemed to offer good news.

The race hadn’t gone as well as they’d hoped. The car was temperamental, the strategy of. The media had been brutal. And Lando… Lando was taking it personally.

It was past midnight when Y/N’s phone buzzed.

Lando: You up?

Y/N: Always. Need to talk or need to be distracted?

It took a minute before the typing bubbles appeared.

Lando: a bit of both. I'm just… tired. Of people. Of messing up. Of feeling like I’m not enough.

Y/N’s heart sank. Without thinking, she called him.

He picked up after the first ring.

“Hey,” she said softly. “Talk to me.”

There was a pause on the other end, then a shaky breath. “I know I shouldn’t let it get to me. The comments. The press. The expectations. But it’s like… I can’t shut it out this time. Everyone’s already written me off.”

“Lando…” she murmured, shifting on her bed. “You are not what those people say you are. You’ve done more in the past few years than most people ever get close to. You work your ass off. You care. You’re allowed to be disappointed—but not to forget who you are.”

He didn’t speak for a second.

“I just don’t want to let anyone down,” he said finally, voice quiet. “Especially not you.”

She blinked at the ceiling, her heart squeezing. “Hey. You couldn’t let me down even if you tried. I’m here. Always. Whether you’re on pole or P18. That doesn’t change.”

He let out a breath—this time, steadier. “I hate how you always know what to say.”

“That’s because you’re not very mysterious,” she teased gently. “Plus, I’m a genius.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Debatable.”

“Shut up. Let me hype you up.”

Lando grew quiet again, but this time it felt like peace instead of pressure.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said after a beat. “For always answering. For always being… you.”

“Always,” she whispered. “Now get some sleep. I’ll beat your ass at 8 Ball tomorrow.”

He chuckled. “Dream on.”

But she heard the smile in his voice, and that was enough.

The paddock buzzed with media, team personnel, and the hum of anticipation. Cameras flashed, journalists circled like hawks, and mechanics moved with quiet urgency. But Y/N had learned to find her pockets of calm. She had her coffee, her notes, and her well-practiced ability to look like she was busier than she was.

She spotted Lando from across the garage.

Cap low, hoodie pulled over his race suit, jaw set.

But when his eyes found hers, something shifted. His shoulders relaxed just slightly, and his mouth twitched up at one corner.

He made his way over, slipping through the chaos like it didn’t faze him, though she knew better.

“Hey,” he said softly, voice only for her.

“Hey,” she replied, equally quiet.

“You beat me at 8 Ball,” he muttered.

She grinned. “Told you I would. Should’ve let me hype you up before the game, too.”

He laughed under his breath. It wasn’t loud, but it was real. And that felt like a win.

“You sleep okay?” she asked, watching his face.

He nodded, nudging her lightly with his elbow. “I did. You helped.”

“Good,” she said. “Now don’t let any of those trolls live rent-free in your head today. You’re here for you. For the team. And maybe a little bit for the drama.”

That pulled a wider smile from him. “You’re better at pep talks than my old sports psych.”

“Probably better looking too,” she teased, sipping her coffee.

He didn’t deny it.

They stood there a beat longer, just existing in each other’s calm before the noise swallowed them whole again.

Will called him over, and Lando straightened up.

“Time to go to work.” He said, turning away.

But before he went, Y/N called for him to come back. 

He glanced back at her. “What is it?” He asked.

Y/n bit her bottom lip in the nervous way Lando loved, but he would never admit that, and walked up to him. She placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a light peck on the cheek. 

“For good luck,” she said, flushed.

Lando smiled, and he smiled hard. So hard that it hurt, and he carried that smile out onto the grid. 

The roar of the crowd was still echoing in the paddock. Orange flags waved from the grandstands, mechanics were cheering, champagne sprayed somewhere nearby—and Lando stood on top of the world.

He’d done it.

His first win of the season. 

It didn’t hit him all at once. It came in waves—the checkered flag, his race engineer yelling in his ears, the blur of the final lap flashing back in his mind. But now, standing next to his car with confetti still drifting down like slow-motion snow, it hit.

And he smiled.

No, he beamed.

Because the first thing he saw when he turned around was her.

Y/N had pushed through the crowd just enough to stand on the edge of the garage, a breathless grin on her face and pride in her eyes.

He didn’t think. He didn’t hesitate.

He jogged straight to her, still in his suit and helmet, sitting on the first-place table stand, and before she could even say a word, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground like she was weightless. 

She let out a startled laugh, clinging to his shoulders. “Lando!”

“I did it!” he yelled, spinning her once before setting her back down, still holding her like he wasn’t ready to let go.

“I know! I watched it happen!” she said through a laugh, breath catching at how happy he looked.

He leaned his forehead against hers for a second, grinning like an idiot. “It was a kiss. I’m telling you. You kissed me and boom—podium. Easy math.”

She flushed. “I didn’t say it was that kind of good luck.”

“Too late,” he whispered. “I’m never racing without one again.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling too widely to deny how much she cared. “You were brilliant out there.”

He pulled back enough to look at her properly. “You believed in me when I didn’t. I’ll never forget that.”

Her heart stuttered at the sincerity. But before she could answer, cameras started clicking furiously again, someone called his name, and he gave her one last squeeze.

“I gotta go do media stuff—but don’t leave, alright?”

“I won’t.”

He took a step back, still smiling like he’d just been handed the world—and honestly, he kind of had.

And Y/N? She just watched him walk off, her heart full and racing, a little dazed by how much that boy meant to her now.

The party had faded hours ago. The team had cheered, the champagne had flowed, and Lando had done more interviews than he could count. His face hurt from smiling, his voice was half gone, and his suit still smelled faintly of victory and engine oil.

But now… now it was quiet.

Lando stepped out on the rooftop lounge of the hotel wearing a t-shirt and some joggers. The night air was cool against his skin, the concrete still warm from the day’s sun. He wasn’t even sure why he came out here—just needed space, maybe. Air that wasn’t full of flashing lights and praise.

And there she was.

Sitting on one of the lounges, looking up at the stars, sipping from a bottle of water, like she’d been waiting. Or maybe just knew he’d show up eventually.

Y/N looked up and smiled, soft and familiar. “Hey, champ.”

He walked over and dropped down beside her, shoulder brushing hers. “You’re still awake?”

“Could ask you the same thing.” She handed him her spare bottle.

He took it, twisted the cap, and drank without question. “Can’t sleep. Still buzzing.”

“Kind of hard to crash after your first win of the season.”

He chuckled. “You make it sound cooler than I do.”

“It is cool. You were incredible, Lando. No one could’ve taken that win from you today.”

He leaned back on his palms, glancing up at the stars above. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

They sat in silence for a moment, their legs stretched out in front of them, ankles nearly touching. Somewhere down the road, a car whooshed by. People were humming in the streets down below.

“You ever wonder,” he said quietly, “if it’s ever going to be enough? Like… you do everything right, you win, you prove people wrong—but then there’s always more. More noise. More pressure.”

She looked over at him, eyes steady. “Yeah. I wonder about that a lot. Especially when I see you carry the weight of it like it’s your job, too.”

Lando didn’t respond right away. He just stared ahead, letting her words settle.

“But you don’t have to carry it alone, you know,” she added gently. “Not when I’m around.”

His gaze shifted to her, something raw and open in his eyes. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do.”

Another quiet stretch passed, filled with everything they weren’t saying out loud. And then—

“You’re kind of my favorite person right now,” he said, barely more than a whisper.

Y/N’s breath caught.

“Just right now?” she teased.

Lando smiled slowly, turning to face her fully. “Alright—maybe longer.”

She looked at him then, really looked at him, heart thudding a little too loudly in her chest. “Yeah,” she said. “Me too.”

And they sat there, side by side, under the stars—two friends teetering on the edge of something more. Not ready to fall just yet, but both were wondering what would happen if they did.

They weren’t together. But they weren’t just friends anymore, either.

Sometimes Y/N would catch herself mid-laugh, watching the way his eyes crinkled when he was genuinely happy, and her stomach would twist. Not in a bad way—just that damn it kind of way. The kind that made her fingers itch to reach for him. To hold his face. To kiss him like she’d imagined one too many times in the dark.

And Lando? He was no better.

There were nights he’d finish a race and instinctively check his phone—not for the media, not even for his team—but for her. Just a little “Proud of you” text with the star emoji she always used. That’s all it took. That one sentence could undo him. He kept screenshots. He reread old messages when he couldn’t sleep. And there were moments, more than he could admit, where he caught himself imagining what it would be like to wake up to her in his bed. Not even for anything explicit—just her, warm and sleepy, stealing the covers and smiling at him through the sunrise.

They hadn’t crossed that line. Not yet.

But the tension simmered beneath the surface, unspoken but always there. It was in the way her hand lingered on his back just a second too long. The way his gaze dropped to her lips when she was mid-sentence. The way they always seemed to lean just a little too close when they laughed, like gravity was slowly pulling them together.

And when they hugged now—because they did, often—it wasn’t the quick, polite kind anymore.

It was slow. Intentional. Bodies pressed close. Hands-on waists, fingers at the nape of a neck. Heads tucked into shoulders. His heart was thundering.

Y/N wasn’t sure who would break first.

But sometimes, when he looked at her like she was the only thing tethering him to earth, she thought maybe it would be both of them.

But where it truly got complicated… was in the physio room.

There was only so much distance you could keep when your job involved touch.

Y/N was a professional. She’d worked with dozens of athletes. But none of them made her heartbeat do stupid things when she slid her hands down a tight quad or helped them through a stretch. None of them made her pause before every session and breathe, just to stay grounded.

Lando was different.

At first, it was subtle—his breath hitching when her fingers pressed into the muscle at the back of his shoulder, his eyes fluttering closed for a second longer than necessary. The way he’d hum quietly, almost to himself, whenever her hands found the spots that needed working out.

But lately, the air between them had changed.

His eyes lingered when she bent down to adjust his posture. Her fingers hesitated, not out of uncertainty, but want. His body relaxed under her touch in a way that felt like trust. Like surrender.

And sometimes… their touches lingered.

Like that morning when he came in early, hoodie tugged over his curls, voice still raspy with sleep.

She had him lying flat on the padded table, one leg bent, her hand gliding over his thigh to feel the tension. Her other hand braced his knee, her eyes locked on his body as she worked through the tightness.

“You okay?” she asked softly, fingers pausing at the sensitive spot.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Feels good.”

Too good. Too intimate.

She glanced up, and he was already looking at her—eyes soft, lips parted, breath shallow.

It would’ve been so easy. Just a little lean forward. Just one second of bravery.

But then he blinked, and the moment passed. Barely.

Another time, he sat shirtless on the edge of the table, and she stood behind him, helping him stretch out his shoulders. Her hands slid up his back, over the planes of muscle and the little freckles she was trying not to memorize. He leaned back slightly into her touch, head tilting until it nearly rested against her shoulder.

He didn’t move. Neither did she.

The air was thick with something unspoken. His hand dropped, fingers brushing against her leg.

It should’ve meant nothing. But it did.

Their sessions grew longer. Not because he needed more treatment, but because neither of them wanted to leave.

Because physio had become the one place where they could be close without questions. Without pressure. Just them. Quiet. Tense. Comfortable. Dangerous.

They weren’t together. But they weren’t just friends either.

And more and more, when Y/N found herself thinking about him—about his laugh, about his hands, about the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention—it wasn’t professional.

Not even close.

And Lando? He couldn’t even pretend anymore.

He thought about her when he fell asleep. Dreamed about her touch. Missed her even when they’d just seen each other. He lived for her voice. Her calm. Her presence. Her hands.

He was falling.

They both were.

And one day soon, one of them would break.

Lando had finished P2. A hard-fought, tooth-and-nail race that left his adrenaline spiking and his heart pounding. The kind of race where the sweat felt earned and every muscle in his body ached in the best way.

And when he climbed out of the car and saw Y/N waiting just outside the garage with that quiet smile—smile-the one she saved just for him, it was better than any champagne on the podium.

“You were unreal,” she beamed, reaching for his water bottle, like always.

He leaned in without thinking, resting his forehead against hers for a beat. He was still in his helmet, visor up, and he could feel her breath against his chin.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he murmured.

She flushed. He loved it when she flushed.

But before they could say anything else, someone behind them cracked a joke—too loud, too thoughtless.

“…Guess Lando needs extra weight in the garage to balance the car out, huh?”

A pause.

Someone snorted. A second of awkward laughter from a couple of junior engineers nearby. They didn’t mean it maliciously. Just idiots being idiots. The kind who thought fat jokes were still funny.

Y/N didn’t even flinch. She’d learned not to. Instead, she looked away, jaw tight, the smile slipping off her face.

But Lando?

Lando snapped.

He turned so fast that his helmet nearly swung into someone.

“What the hell did you just say?” he barked.

The laughter died instantly.

The guy, the one who’d said it, froze. “I was just—just joking—”

“No. You weren’t. You were being a disrespectful prick,” Lando said, voice sharp, unwavering. “She does more for this team than you ever will. She’s the reason I’m standing here right now with a trophy in reach, and if I ever hear you talk about her like that again, I swear to God—”

“Lando,” Y/N said quietly, her hand brushing his arm. But he wasn’t done.

“I don’t care who you think you are. You want to stay on this team, you treat her with respect. She’s family.”

The word family landed heavily.

Everyone was silent.

The guy mumbled something that might’ve been an apology and disappeared fast. The others avoided eye contact, scattering like roaches.

Lando turned back to her, face still flushed with anger, chest heaving.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

His eyes softened immediately. “Don’t. Don’t you ever apologize for other people being assholes.”

She looked at him, her throat tight. “I’m used to it.”

“Well, I’m not. And I won’t be.” He reached out and took her hand, just for a second. But it felt like a lifetime. “You mean too much to me.”

That part slipped out.

Neither of them moved. Not even when Will called for Lando to get to the media.

“I’ll find you after,” he said, voice quiet again. “Don’t disappear, yeah?”

She nodded, heart thudding.

And when he finally walked off, she stood there for a moment longer, hand still tingling from his touch, replaying his words.

You mean too much to me.

Maybe this wasn’t just friendship anymore.

Maybe it never had been.

The gym was quiet—unusually so. Just the soft hum of machines, the occasional thud of a dropped weight, and the low murmur of a playlist that neither of them was paying attention to.

Y/N sat on the mat, stretching out Lando’s leg, focused on his hamstring. Or at least pretending to be.

Lando was lying on his back, shirt clinging to him with sweat, one arm slung lazily over his eyes. But she could feel the way his body had gone still under her hands. Not relaxed. Not tense. Just waiting.

Waiting for something to break.

Her fingers moved gently, working the muscle. Slow, practiced, familiar. And yet it felt anything but.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said finally, voice soft and scratchy from the heat.

Y/N glanced up, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Just focusing.”

“Right,” he muttered. “Because stretching me out is so mentally taxing.”

She gave his leg a push, just enough to make him grunt. “Don’t tempt me to bend it the wrong way.”

That pulled a laugh from him, but even that sounded off.

A beat passed. Another. The air buzzed with something unsaid.

“I meant it, you know,” Lando said suddenly, lowering his arm so he could look at her. “What I said last week. About you.”

She froze, fingers stilling just above his knee.

“Lando…”

“No one’s ever stood up for you like that?” he asked, sitting up slowly. “That’s what you told me.”

She didn’t look at him, but she didn’t move away either. “People don’t usually think I need it.”

“Well, I do,” he said. “I see how you carry it all. The weight. The pressure. The way you make space for everyone else. I just—I wanted you to know someone’s got your back too.”

Their eyes locked, and everything in the room went still.

Her heart pounded in her ears. “You didn’t have to. But you did.”

“I’ll always choose to.”

That hung in the air.

And then she was moving, standing, grabbing a towel, pretending to need a break—but Lando followed and stopped her just short of the water cooler.

He stepped into her space, one hand coming up to brush a loose curl behind her ear. His fingers lingered, soft and warm against her skin.

Her breath hitched.

His eyes dropped to her lips.

“Y/N…” he said, almost like a warning. Almost like a prayer.

She leaned in just slightly, barely a fraction.

But a door slammed in the hallway, laughter echoing down from a nearby group, and they both stepped back at the same time, like the spell had been broken.

She swallowed. “We should… finish the cooldown.”

He nodded, jaw tight, eyes still locked on hers. “Yeah. Okay.”

But as they returned to the mats, neither of them could focus. Her hands still trembled faintly every time they brushed his skin, and he didn’t stop watching her like he’d never seen her before.

And maybe… just maybe… that was the beginning of the end of pretending.

Race weekends didn’t leave much room for downtime, but somehow, Lando always found time to text her.

Lando: u up?

Y/N: classic

Lando: It’s not what it looks like

Y/N: uh huh

Lando: Okay, it’s a little what it looks like

Y/N: insomnia or overthinking?

Lando: both. You?

Y/N: same. Plus hotel pillows suck and Sarah snores. 

Lando: Want to come upstairs?

She stared at the message for longer than she’d admit.

Then:

Y/N: I’ll bring the gummy worms.

Y/N smiled to herself as she climbed out of bed, scribbling a quick note for Sarah to let her know where she was going.

Ten minutes later, she was standing outside Lando’s hotel room, knocking gently. The door opened almost instantly.

Lando stood there in sweats and a hoodie, his curls a tousled mess, eyes soft in that way they only ever got when he was tired—or when she was near.

“You weren’t kidding,” he said, eyeing the bag in her hand.

“I never joke about sugar,” she replied, stepping in.

“Just don’t tell Jon, he’ll flip if he finds out.” 

“Don’t worry, your secret's safe with me.” Y/n joked poking Lando lightly on his chest. 

He closed the door behind her, the air between them thick with the things they weren’t saying. The things they almost said yesterday.

They sat side by side on the edge of the bed, legs brushing, the bag of gummy worms between them.

For a while, it was easy. Familiar. Joking about the media circus, roasting each other over their old Spotify-wrapped playlists, comparing race notes with mock-serious expressions. The kind of rhythm that came with trust.

But somewhere between her laughing too hard at one of his impressions and him watching her like she hung the damn moon, the silence started to hum again.

“About yesterday,” Lando said softly.

Y/N looked over at him. He wasn’t smiling now. Just studying her like she was something he wanted to memorize.

“You don’t have to explain,” she said, voice quiet.

“I want to,” he replied. “It’s not just what they said. It’s that they thought they could say it. That they thought no one would care.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat suddenly tight.

Lando shifted closer. Not enough to touch, but enough that she felt the heat of him. “I care.”

She met his eyes, searching. “I know. I just… I didn’t expect it. You’re kind to me, Lando. And I don’t know what to do with that sometimes.”

He reached out, hesitating only a second before taking her hand in his. His thumb brushed gently over her knuckles.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he said. “I just want you to feel safe with me.”

Their hands lingered like that—twined and quiet and warm.

Then she laughed under her breath, the sound a little breathless. “You know this is dangerously close to being a rom-com moment.”

“Is it?” he asked, smirking. “We already share gummy worms and trauma. What’s next, joint taxes?”

She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t let go of his hand.

And neither of them kissed the other.

But God, it was close.

Closer than it had ever been.

And it was getting harder to pretend they didn’t want more.

The dining area was quiet, tucked into that early hour when most of the paddock was still asleep or off on their morning routines. Y/N sat at a corner table with her usual coffee, toast, and a notebook open beside her.

Lando showed up like he always did lately. No grand entrance, just that familiar presence sliding into the seat across from her, hoodie up, sleepy eyes.

“Did you even sleep?” she asked, glancing at the mess of his curls.

“Some,” he said, voice rough with morning. “You?”

“Eventually.” Her mouth quirked. “The sugar crash helped.”

His eyes softened at the memory of gummy worms and everything that nearly happened after. But he didn’t say anything about it—not directly.

Instead, he reached for a slice of toast from her plate, and she didn’t stop him. Their legs brushed under the table. Neither moved.

They talked about the day ahead, strategy notes, and the weather. All the surface-level things that kept them steady. But the air between them was still humming, still warm with the weight of almost.

She caught him watching her once, thumb brushing absently over the edge of his coffee cup. When she looked up, he didn’t look away.

“You okay?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just… glad you’re here.”

Before she could respond, someone slid into the booth beside her.

Sarah.

Y/N blinked. “You’re up early.”

Sarah grinned, setting down her plate. “Early bird gets the paddock pass upgrade.”

She looked between the two of them, and her brows lifted just slightly.

“What?” Y/N asked, trying to sound casual.

“Nothing,” Sarah said innocently. “Just… the tension in this booth could cook my eggs for me.”

Lando choked on his coffee. Y/N elbowed her.

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying,” Sarah continued, eyes dancing. “You two are acting like you didn’t almost kiss last night.”

“Sarah!”

“I knew it,” she crowed, pointing her fork at Y/N. “The way you were texting him before bed? Girl. Come on.”

Lando’s ears had gone pink. Y/N looked like she wanted to melt into the booth.

But still, neither of them denied it.

Sarah grinned, looking way too smug for someone holding a half-eaten croissant. “Well, let me know when you two do something about it. I want front-row seats. Or at least to plan the wedding playlist.”

Lando finally laughed, rubbing a hand over his face. “She’s relentless.”

Y/N gave him a sidelong glance, fighting her smile. “She’s not wrong, though.”

His eyes met hers, something quiet and serious beneath the teasing.

“No,” he said softly. “She’s not.”

The room was quiet, tucked away from the buzz of the paddock. Just padded floors, low lights, and the occasional thrum of the bass from the nearby garage.

Lando lay on the mat, one arm slung over his eyes, his race suit pulled halfway down to his waist. Y/N knelt beside him, helping him stretch through his usual pre-qualifying routine.

It should’ve been routine by now—she knew the shape of his body like muscle memory. But something about today felt different. Like they’d both woken up with the echo of what could’ve happened the night before still lingering in their skin.

“Tell me when it’s too much,” she murmured, guiding his leg into a deep hamstring stretch.

He let out a breath through his nose, shifting slightly under her touch. “You’re good.”

But his voice was rough, and she could feel the tension—not just in his body, but in the way his fingers flexed slightly every time her hands brushed his thighs, her forearm skimmed his ribs.

He didn’t pull away.

And neither did she.

When she leaned in to adjust his shoulder, her breath hit the side of his neck. He shivered.

“Cold?” she asked, low and teasing.

“No,” he said, and when he looked up at her, his eyes didn’t blink. “Not even a little.”

Y/N’s breath caught. She was straddling one leg, hovering over him, face barely inches away.

It would be so easy.

His hand came up like he might tuck her hair behind her ear or maybe just touch her cheek—he stopped himself.

Barely.

A beat passed. And another.

Then the door creaked open.

“Lando?” Will’s voice broke the spell. “Time to suit up.”

Lando blinked first. Cleared his throat. “Yeah. Be right there.”

Y/N rolled off him, trying not to look rattled. Lando stood, tugging his suit back on, eyes flicking to her once more as he paused by the door.

“You coming?” he asked softly.

She nodded, grabbing her clipboard, trying to calm the heat in her chest. “Always.”

He smiled—small, knowing, charged—and disappeared down the hall.

She exhaled hard, gripping the edge of the table.

They were right on the edge of something dangerous and wonderful.

And neither of them had quite decided if they were brave enough to fall.

[cuzxai]

mine - nsfw

spencer reid x afab!reader

a/n: what harm can a little friendliness do when youre at a bar with your coworkers and boyfriend?did i fall off guys?💔

The bar hums with low music and clinking glasses, the kind of cozy place the BAU always seems to stumble into after wrapping a case out of town. It’s dim but warm, with wood-paneled walls and slightly sticky floors and the energy is that perfect mix of exhaustion and buzzed relief. You’re sitting near the end of a long table pushed together from smaller ones, knees touching Spencer’s under it—accidentally at first, then intentionally.

Emily’s to your left, halfway through a margarita and mid-story about a disaster Tinder date involving a magician and a live rabbit. “He said it was a ‘surprise element,’” she says, making air quotes. “I said I don’t want to date anyone who says the word ‘abracadabra’ in a sexual context.”

You snort into your drink. “Did he at least pull it out of a hat?”

“No. A fanny pack.” She shudders.

“Jesus,” Morgan mutters, leaning in across the table. “That’s not even the worst part. The real red flag was you agreeing to go out with a magician in the first place.”

“I was feeling adventurous!” Emily defends, throwing a napkin at him.

Hotch, surprisingly relaxed with a beer in hand and just shakes his head. “Remind me to check your judgment when we’re assigning interrogations.”

“Check your own, you’re the one who hired me,” she fires back, laughing. Conversation flows.

JJ’s talking about Henry’s newest obsession with dinosaurs, “He calls them ‘roars,’ which I think is honestly more accurate” and Garcia is showing you all a filtered picture of Sergio with tiny devil horns photoshopped on his head. And Spencer? He’s quiet beside you, fingers wrapped loosely around a glass of scotch he swore he didn’t like. His knee is still pressed to yours. You feel him glance at you every so often, like he wants to say something and isn’t sure how. Eventually, he does.

“I read a paper last week that said alcohol doesn’t actually lower your inhibitions,” he says, not looking at you. “It just impairs your ability to consider consequences.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “Is that your way of telling everyone you’re about to make a bad decision?”

His lips twitch into the barest smile. “No. Just… thinking out loud.”

Morgan leans in then, grinning. “Alright, y’all, I don’t know about you but my old man back is calling it a night.” A chorus of agreement follows—bags being gathered, jackets slung on, the check already halfway paid by Garcia who’s holding the receipt like a trophy.

“I think there’s still part of the tab open at the bar,” Spencer says, glancing around. Then he turns to you. “You wanna close it for me?”

You nod, taking his card and sliding out from the booth, smoothing your hands over your skirt. “Sure.” You don’t notice the way his gaze lingers on you a beat too long as you turn. Don’t see the flicker in his eyes when the bartender greets you with a smile that’s a little too friendly. At first, it’s all polite. Just a casual exchange—he confirms the card, prints the receipt. But then he makes a joke. Something about your drink choice.

“Classy and lethal,” he smiles, leaning on the bar like he has nowhere else to be. “That’s a rare combo.” You laugh. Just a little. Just enough to be polite.

You don’t realize how it looks. You’re still buzzed, still warm from the laughter with your team. You lean in slightly without meaning to, fingers brushing his when you sign the receipt. Across the bar Spencer’s still sitting at the table, arms crossed. His expression is unreadable. He watches you talk—sees how your lips part when you smile, how your weight shifts onto one hip, just the way it always does when you’re relaxed.

Morgan looks between the two of you, low whistle barely audible over the music. “Uh oh.”

Hotch doesn’t even turn. “Let it play out.”

“She’s just being nice,” JJ murmurs.

“Yeah,” Emily adds, “but look at Reid.”

He’s not fidgeting. Not rambling. He’s just… still. And that’s worse. You come back a minute later, receipt in hand and slide it across the table. “All set.”

“Thanks,” Spencer says. His voice is clipped. Short. His jaw tight as he stands and heads for the door. You fall into step behind him, suddenly hyper-aware of the silence. The others follow behind, a few trailing slower, probably already whispering. The ride back to the hotel is quiet. No one says a word. Spencer doesn’t even glance at you as he opens the door to the passenger side. And you? You sit there, heart thudding, as the air thickens around you like storm clouds gathering behind his eyes.

Because you know that silence means something’s coming. And whatever it is, it’s going to be loud when it finally breaks. You shift slightly in your seat, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself like it’ll shield you from the weight in the air. “Are you mad?” you finally ask. Quiet. Testing. He doesn’t answer right away. Doesn’t even blink. You almost think he won’t say anything at all—like he’s going to drive you both in silence all the way back to the hotel and just leave it at that. Let the tension rot between you.

“No,” he says. And it’s not convincing. Not even a little.

You blink at him, scoffing. “Okay. Great talk.” His fingers curl tighter.

“I’m not mad,” he says again, jaw stiff. “I’m just trying to process.”

“Process what?” His voice is low, sharp.

“Whether or not you were doing that to get a rise out of me.”

You stare at him. “Doing what?”

“The bartender, the laughing, the touching.” he says, eyes still forward.

“Oh my God,” you mutter, sitting back. “Are you serious right now?” Silence.

“Spencer. I wasn’t flirting. He made a comment. I was being polite.” He doesn’t answer. “You told me to close the tab,” you continue, voice rising a little. “What did you expect me to do? Glare at him?”

“I expected you not to smile like that,” he says tightly. “Not with him.” You open your mouth then close it. Because the way he says it—the way his voice drops on him—that’s not jealousy. That’s something deeper. Something territorial.

“You’re drunk,” you say quietly.

He exhales through his nose. “I’m observant.”

“Don’t profile me.” You stare out the window for the rest of the drive. The air between you crackles. It’s furious. It’s quiet. And it’s not done. When he pulls into the parking lot of your house, he doesn’t say a word. Just parks and climbs out, walking toward the entrance without waiting for you to catch up. You follow anyway. Neither of you say a thing as you move through the house.

Only when you reach your room—when the hallway ends ahead, empty and quiet—does Spencer finally speak. “I’m not mad,” he says again, voice low.

You stop walking. “Then what are you?”

He turns to you. His eyes are dark. Heavy. “I’m not used to feeling like I could lose something I haven’t even let myself want.”

It knocks the breath out of you. Just a little. “Spence—”

“I need to get this out of my system,” he says, stepping forward. He’s close. Closer than he’s been all night. His voice drops lower. “You’re mine.” Then he’s stepping into your guys’ room. And this time—this time it’s you who follows in silence.

You don’t even make it past the doorway. The second the lock clicks behind you, he turns—grabs you, pulls you in and kisses you like he’s trying to make up for the twenty minutes you spent with someone else. You gasp against his mouth, hands scrambling for balance as your back hits the door. “Spence—” You barely get the word out before his mouth is trailing down your jaw, then your throat.

“This is what you wanted?” he murmurs against your skin. “You wanted me to watch you flirt with him?”

You grab a fistful of his shirt. “I wasn’t flirting.” He scoffs, low and bitter.

“You were laughing at everything he said. Leaning in like he was saying something so fucking profound.” You swallow, breath catching as he shoves your jacket off and it hits the floor. His hands are on your waist, then your ass, dragging you toward him. You feel the hard line of his cock through his slacks, pressed flush to your stomach.

“It didn’t mean anything,” you whisper but your voice is shaky, already caving to the heat in his eyes.

“Sure didn’t look like that,” he mutters. Then he spins you around.

Your hands splay against the door, your chest pressed to it as he kicks your feet apart. His hand slides between your shoulder blades, pinning you there. “You looked happy,” he says, breath hot against your neck. “So tell me—why’d you look happier when you realized I was watching?”

You make a sound. It’s half a moan, half a gasp as he rolls his hips against your ass, slow, grinding, teasing. “Spencer—”

“No,” he cuts you off. “You don’t get to talk your way out of this.” His hand pushes under your waistband, fingers sliding past your underwear. He groans when he feels how wet you are. “Jesus,” he mutters. “You’re soaked.”

“I told you it wasn’t anything,” you whimper.

“Then why’re you like this?” He curls two fingers inside you, slow and firm. “Why’d watching me lose my mind turn you on?” You moan—head dropping forward, legs going soft. His other hand comes around and grabs your throat, squeezing softly. His thumb strokes over your pulse point then down, dragging along your collarbone. You grind back against him instinctively, needing more friction but he pulls his fingers free, slick and slow. He groans. “You taste so good.”

You whimper. “Spence…”

“I’m not gonna let you off easy,” he breathes. “You don’t get to play innocent and then fall apart the second I touch you.” He undoes his belt—slow and loud, letting the sound echo. You twitch at the sound, pressing harder into the door. He pulls his cock out, presses the head against your entrance but doesn’t push in. “You want it?” he asks.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Please, I do.”

He doesn’t move. “Then say you’re mine.”

You let out a broken moan. “Spencer.”

“Say it.” He breathes

“I’m yours. I’m yours, Spencer—” And then he pushes in, slow and deep, with a groan like he’s waited all night for this. Your eyes squeeze shut. The stretch is perfect. He doesn’t move at first, just holds you there—pressed full of him, his hand still loosely at your throat, his hips locked against yours.

You let out a choked whimper. He pulls back slowly, then thrusts in hard enough to knock the air from your lungs. You cry out, head lolling back onto his shoulder. He bites your neck, open-mouthed and rough. You try to speak, try to apologize but all that comes out is a breathy moan. “Shhh,” he soothes, voice dark. “You don’t need to say anything. Just take it.” He keeps fucking into you—long strokes, steady rhythm. Not fast, not yet. Just deep. Just punishing enough.

He leans in close, breath heavy in your ear. “You know,” he murmurs, “sex increases dopamine and oxytocin levels. It heightens emotional memory. Which means you’re going to remember every single second of this.” You shudder, toes curling, thighs shaking. “That’s why I’m not letting you finish,” he says, biting your shoulder. “Not soon. I want this burned into your fucking brain.” You let out a broken moan, desperate for more. For release. For anything. And then he pulls out. You whimper at the loss, hips twitching back toward him, chasing it. But he doesn’t give in. He steps back, pants open, eyes dark, jaw clenched.

He doesn’t give you time to recover from the loss of him. The second you shift to face him, his hands are on your hips again, walking you backwards—step by step—until the backs of your knees hit the mattress. “You think you get to do whatever you want,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours, “and I won’t do something about it?”

Then he pushes you—not hard but firm—until you fall back onto the bed with a breathy sound. The mattress bounces slightly under you, your body catching on the sheets as he moves between your legs without hesitation. You reach for him, maybe to pull him back on top of you but he shakes his head once. Then, very deliberately, he sinks to his knees at the edge of the bed. “No. You don’t get to call the shots right now.”

Your thighs are still spread from earlier, underwear long discarded somewhere in the room. His hands slide up the inside of your legs, fingers grazing your skin like he’s testing the weight of your want.

“Baby,” he says, his voice going a little dreamy—dangerous, like the kind of tangent he only slips into when he’s in full profiler mode, “there’s this study about anticipation and the way it activates the caudate nucleus. It’s the same part of the brain that lights up during addiction.” He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh. Then another, slower this time, higher.

“You’re saying I’m an addiction now?” you breathe out, chest rising and falling fast.

“I’m saying,” he murmurs, lips brushing just barely over your folds, “that I’ve been getting high off your reactions all night. And I’m not even close to done.”

You let out a gasp as his tongue finally drags through your slick folds—slow and smooth, like he’s savoring it. Your back arches immediately, hands clutching the comforter. He groans softly at the taste, his fingers tightening on your thighs. “God,” he mumbles, already going in again, firmer this time. “I should’ve done this hours ago.” You try to speak, try to reply with something smug or sarcastic but the second he wraps his mouth around you, it’s gone—your brain blanks, your legs jerk and all you can do is moan.

He’s methodical with it—of course he is. Spencer Reid with a vendetta and something to prove and he’s proving it with every flick of his tongue, every shift of his jaw. He pulls back just enough to say, “You know I could explain exactly what I’m doing to your nerve endings. How I’m stimulating the pudendal nerve to maximize your orgasmic response.”

You let out a breathless laugh, even as your hips buck toward him. “You’re such a fucking nerd—”

He growls against you and the vibration sends a shock straight through you. “You love it,” he mutters, before sucking hard again. You cry out, loud and open and his hands move to pin your hips to the bed—holding you still, making you take every second of it.

He alternates between teasing flicks and deep, slow licks that leave you shaking. You can feel how wet you are, dripping down your thighs, soaking into the sheets. He’s moaning against you like he’s starved, like this is something he’s been dreaming about since the second you met but of course he stops. You lift your head with eyes glassy and parted lips. “What—“

“I want to be inside you when you come.” He’s already climbing onto the bed, already shoving his pants down enough to free himself again. You see the dark flush on his face, his pupils blown, the sheen of sweat on his skin. His cock is red and hard, already leaking at the tip. He drags you further up the bed, flipping you onto your stomach before you can even react.

“Oh my God—”

“Don’t act surprised,” he grits out, lining himself up again. “You knew what you were doing tonight.” You let out a broken moan into the pillow as he thrusts in again—hard, deep, the angle even better from behind. His hand snakes under your torso, presses to your stomach as he pulls your hips back into his. “Fuck, you feel good like this,” he mutters. “You feel—God—you feel made for me.” You whimper, arching into him.

“I’m not stopping until you scream,” he growls, voice low and hot against your shoulder. “I want the whole fucking building to hear how good I fuck you.” Your body is barely able to keep up with his pace. Spencer’s thrusts are fast, brutal, each one pushing you closer to the edge and yet you can barely register it because your head’s still spinning from the way he’s fucking you. His fingers grip your hips, pulling you back against him, grinding deeper as his cock slides in and out of you. Each stroke feels like a reminder of how far gone you’ve both become and you can’t help but meet him halfway, pushing your ass back onto him, inviting him to go harder. To take more. “Fuck, you’re so damn tight,” Spencer growls, his breath hot and uneven against your back. “I’m never going to get enough of this. I’ve been dying for this all night. I’ve wanted to feel you like this all night—fucking you just the way you deserve.”

His hand snakes between your legs, fingers pressing against your clit roughly. It’s so much, so overwhelming, and you whimper, unable to stop yourself from clenching around him. “Yeah,” Spencer says, his voice dripping with that controlling edge. “Squeeze me, baby. Squeeze around me like you’re begging for it.”

Your breath catches in your throat when you try to respond as he drives in deep, his pelvis slapping against your ass. The sound of it echoes in the room, each hit of his body against yours pushing you further into a daze. “You love this, don’t you?” His voice drops, like he’s not even out of breath. “You love the way I fuck you. You’re made for me. Made for this.” You feel his fingers tighten on your hips, digging in hard enough to leave marks as he holds you in place. It’s like he owns you in this moment—like everything you are is his. The thought only makes you wetter, makes you want to prove him right, to show him just how much you need him. You nod, almost desperately wanting to please him, to let him know you’re completely his.

“Yes,” you manage to get out, your voice a broken whimper. “I love it.”

“That’s right,” Spencer murmurs. “You’re mine. Just mine. Nobody fucks you like this. Not that bartender. Not anyone. Only me.” The way he says it, his voice low, dripping with authority—it makes you gasp, makes you crave more. The dominance in his tone hits something deep inside you, a switch that’s only been waiting for him to flip. Spencer pulls your hair, yanking your head back until your back arches and you cry out at the sting, your body forced to meet his thrusts even more forcefully. His cock fills you, stretching you and it’s all you can do to hang on as he drives into you with a brutal rhythm.

“You want me to ruin you?” Spencer grins darkly, his breath ragged in your ear. “Want me to make you mine? Want me to fuck you so hard you can’t walk straight tomorrow?”

“Yes,” you whisper, desperate, your hands clawing at the sheets beneath you. “I want it. I want you.”

His fingers grip your throat and squeezes, a reminder of his control. Of how much power he holds over you, how much he fucking owns you. “Tell me who you belong to,” he demands and you’re so far gone, so desperate for him that you don’t even hesitate.

“You,” you say breathlessly, barely able to get the words out. “I belong to you, Spencer.”

“Good girl,” he says, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “That’s all you had to say.” He shifts his angle, thrusting deeper. The shift makes you see stars, the air catching in your lungs as your body jerks forward with each punishing thrust. You’re soaked and you don’t know if it’s from your own arousal or the fact that Spencer’s fingers are still working your clit, pushing you closer to the edge, making everything burn.

“Made for me,” Spencer grunts, his voice darker now. “Every inch of you. You love being fucked like this. You love knowing nobody else gets to have you like I do.”

“Fuck,” you whimper. “Yes. Yes, only you.”

His hand pulls you up slightly, just enough for your chest to meet his. He’s still fucking you relentlessly from behind, every thrust calculated, each one punctuated by his dirty words.“You’re such a fucking mess for me, I can feel it,” he says, his voice rough as he watches you collapse back into the pillows. “Can’t even talk straight anymore. Can’t even think straight. All you can do is beg for me.”

“Please,” you breathe, on the edge of something, your fingers digging into the sheets as you push back against him. “Please let me come.”

He doesn’t answer at first, just keeps fucking you with that maddening rhythm, his cock hitting so deep you’re seeing stars. But then he finally speaks. “You can come,” he murmurs. “All over my cock.”

Your entire body tightens at his words and he picks up his pace. You can’t hold back anymore. You don’t even care that you’re so close to the edge—you just need him to finish it. You need him to make you come. Spencer’s grip on your hair tightens as he slams into you once more, making you scream as your orgasm crashes over you. It’s intense, almost violent and you come undone, your body jerking as he fucks you through it, using your body as his own personal release.

“Good girl,” he breathes, voice barely a whisper in your ear as you shake beneath him, still trying to catch your breath. You feel the last thrusts and finally, he comes inside you. He’s groaning into the crook of your neck as his body shudders against yours. For a moment, the only sounds are his breath and the steady beat of your heart, both of you slowly coming down from the high. He’s whispering “Mine.” over and over again, his high slowly leaving him.

[zillabean]

MADS MIKKELSEN SIGNED MY HANNIBAL BODY PILLOW 💖💖💖

Thanks ECCC, for another wonderful Hannibal Reunion Weekend! ❤️ I had an absolutely lovely time with Mads and Hugh, and all my awesome Fannibal friends! Always so sad when it’s over, but very grateful for all the fun memories. Here are a few fun highlights!

I gifted Mads some caramels and he smiled and goes “Oh, are these chocolates?” I told him they were handmade caramels and he was like “Ooh!”, held up the box and did this cute smoochy kiss at it and then gave it to his handler (Steven again!) to add to his gift stash. 🎁

I asked him to sign a few figures for me and that I would have another new Embarrassing Thing for him later. (“Alright, then!”) I was sheepish about it and said “I hope you don’t mind…!” and he was like “I don’t mind at all, bring it on!” and did this Gimme Gimme hand motion. 😆

I told him it was maybe about as weird as The Boobies (the Hannibal mousepad), but he was totally fine with that so maybe it wasn’t a big deal. 🤣 He smiled and said “🎵~You’re The Booby Girl~🎵!” and I just started laughing and said “Why yes I am!” 😌

The fact that Mads Mikkelsen knows me as The Booby Girl is a title I will wear with pride.

“The Girl With the Tiddies” and “Chicago Girl”, he called me at RDC6.

'Tis an honor, sir~ 🤣

I told him I appreciated his tolerance for my nonsense and he smirked, “I bet your family does, too.” 😏 TERRIBLE MAN. 🤣 I got a selfie with him and he gave me a fist bump and a “see ya later”~ ❤️

The Hannibal Panel itself was, as usual, WONDERFUL. Mads & Hugh are just fantastic! Their chemistry and friendship really shines through in their easy way of chatting with each other, and it’s always such a joy to see them interacting and chatting about our favorite series. ❤️

I’m not going to do a whole write-up about it as the panel is viewable online, and others have posted far better quality photos than any of mine came out. I’m always doing my very best to ‘live in the moment’ during the panels because I just want to take it all in as best I can!

For my photo ops Mads was so sweet! ❤️ When I came up, he turned to me and goes “There she is! C’mere~” and held his arms open and did this cute beckoning hand gesture to bring me over, and let me hug him for the photo ❤️☺️

When I asked him to sign my Hannibal pillow case he goes “Let’s do it, give it here, let’s go! 😤💪🏻 *gimme gimme hand gestures again* No hesitance at all, no weird looks, he was all in 🤣 What a seriously great sport! 💖

He also signed some of my art for me (which I gifted him as well) and he said they were very nice~ 🥹💖

I later went for my duo photo with Mads and Hugh and when it got to my turn and Mads saw me, he again goes “Oh, here she is!” and did his cute customary beckoning hand motions, and Hugh gave me a big smile “Hello!” ❤️

Eryn later gifted me her photo op as she was stuck in the Summit building and couldn’t make it back to the Arch in time for a pic, so she was like “HERE, GO” and so I was able to sneak in a bonus solo photo at, literally, the very last minute before Mads left.

Mads was just chilling in the chairs with his handlers, and I told him “my friend was supposed to be here but she couldn’t make it in time, so she gave me her ticket.” Mads grinned “Well then it will just be the 2 of us this time, c’mere” and let me give him a big hug again. 🥹

I had a few more really memorable and funny interactions with him but this post is getting long enough so those are posted on my patreon. My lucky patrons can read all my Mads Mikkelsen squealing and gushing over there. 🤣 (You guys get to see him basically call me TINY haha 🤣)

I also had a few interactions with Hugh which were very chill and nice! ❤️ I asked him to sign my art and gifted him a print as well and he was very sweet. He doesn’t see my silly face as often as Mads so I don’t think he recognizes me at all, but he is always kind and courteous!

I also managed to get Gina Torres to sign my Hannibal book! She is absolutely radiant in person, and I told her that her Bella was just heartbreaking in the show. She agreed, and said she kept hoping she'd beat him (Hannibal, at his game), but... 💔 Very lovely woman.

I also got to see my sweet friend Tia Ballard a few times! Mads & Hugh didn't arrive until Saturday so I haunted Tia whenever I had a chance on Thursday and Friday when she wasn't too busy. She is just the SWEETEST. So sweet, so lovely, so talented! A really radiant soul. 💖

The rest of the con was just a whirlwind of fun with Fannibal friends! The Hannibal Meat Up went wonderfully, so many folks attended and we had a great time! Various Fannibal groups came and went throughout the hour. Lots of gift exchanges and chatting. Thank you for coming! 💖

Overall, a very fun con, as always! I do hope there will be more opportunities again in the future, and that I will be blessed and lucky enough to partake and see everyone again. ❤️

ALSO BONUS: Eryn, her husband and I went and got the most EXTRA hot pot we could 🥩🥘🍲🤣

[writingbuckets]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞: 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐯𝐢𝐢𝐢

paige bueckers x podcaster!reader

wc: 5.5k

synopsis: Y/N and Paige’s relationship evolves from a slow burn to a deep, committed love as they navigate the complexities of their careers and dreams.

warnings: emotional tension, angst, jealousy, explicit sexual content, fluff, relationship growth

a/n: second to last part, yip yip!! i do have some ideas for one shots based in the universe that i'm really excited to write!!!

The past few months had been nothing short of blissful. Waking up to Paige’s warm smile, the mornings spent tangled in each other’s arms, and the quiet, stolen moments before the world came knocking—everything felt perfect. Despite the pressures of her rising basketball stardom and your climb in the podcasting world, the two of you had created a safe haven where fame and expectations couldn’t touch you.

It wasn’t just the big, romantic gestures—though Paige’s surprise road trips and thoughtful gifts were nothing to scoff at. It was the little things that made your relationship feel unshakable: the way she instinctively reached for your hand in crowded rooms, the way her laughter filled the silence when you shared dumb inside jokes, and the way she always managed to make you feel like the most important person in her orbit.

Of course, there had been challenges. Navigating the complexities of her public life and your desire for privacy was never easy, but you’d always found a way to meet in the middle. Paige was fiercely protective of you, and while the occasional paparazzi photo or speculative headline was frustrating, it never felt like more than a passing inconvenience.

You thought you’d found a balance—a way to thrive as individuals while building something meaningful together. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours. And for a while, that had been enough. 

Until now.

The soft hum of music played in the background as you leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Paige rinse the dishes from dinner. It had been her turn to cook, and she’d outdone herself with a recipe she’d picked up from the internet.

“I’m just saying,” Paige began, flashing you a teasing grin over her shoulder, “you were a little too impressed for something that came out of a fifteen-second video.”

You laughed, crossing your arms as you leaned back. “What can I say? I’m easily won over by good food.”

Paige shook her head, setting the last plate in the drying rack before wiping her hands on a towel. “Noted. Food’s the way to your heart. Got it.”

As she turned to face you, she stepped closer, her damp hands finding your waist. Her touch was casual, intimate, like it had been a thousand times before, but it still sent warmth spreading through you.

“You’re lucky I let you in my kitchen,” you teased, your hands sliding up to rest on her shoulders.

“Oh, please,” she replied, smirking. “Your kitchen loves me. It told me.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. Moments like these—light, easy, filled with laughter—were what you cherished most about being with her. Just the two of you in your little world, where nothing else mattered.

Paige’s arms tightened around your waist, and you rested your chin on her shoulder, savoring the quiet hum of her presence. The faint chatter of the TV in the background barely registered as she pulled you closer.

“You know,” she said, voice soft with mock seriousness, “we could just cancel all our plans forever and do this every night.”

“Tempting,” you replied, smiling into her collarbone, “but you’d get bored of me eventually.”

“Never.” Paige leaned back just enough to meet your eyes, her expression earnest.

Before you could respond, the sound of the TV caught your attention. A familiar jingle—ESPN’s sports coverage—signaled the beginning of a new segment. You pulled away slightly, glancing at the screen, where a panel of analysts were deep in discussion.

“…and with the Women’s NBA Draft just around the corner, all eyes are on Paige Bueckers,” one of them said, a glossy headshot of Paige flashing onto the screen. “She’s the clear favorite for the number-one pick, and teams across the country are already vying for the chance to have her on their roster.”

Paige let out a soft laugh, her fingers instinctively brushing against the fabric of your shirt as her grip on your waist loosened. She turned her attention to the TV, where ESPN analysts were dissecting every possible scenario for her future. "Man, they really don’t let up, do they?" she said, her tone laced with amusement, though there was a hint of nervous energy beneath it.

The corners of her lips tugged upward, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to match her smile. She moved towards the TV, the light from the screen flickered across her face, highlighting the easy confidence in her expression, the kind you admired—and sometimes envied. You followed her to the couch while the analysts continued their animated chatter, debating potential fits for Paige’s skillset, throwing out city names like they were playing a game of darts.

Dallas. Seattle. Los Angeles.

Each name felt like a small pinprick against your heart, sharp and impossible to ignore. The map of your life, once neatly outlined, suddenly felt scattered, its pieces floating far beyond your reach.

"They’re hyping you up pretty hard," you said, forcing a lightness into your tone that didn’t match the weight pressing on your chest. Your voice wavered just enough to betray you, and Paige’s eyes flicked toward you, a faint crease forming between her brows.

"You okay?" she asked, her head tilting slightly as she studied your face. Her hand slid back to your waist, her thumb brushing soothing circles against your side—a small, grounding gesture she always did when she sensed something was off.

You blinked, willing the heavy feeling to ease, and offered a quick nod. "Yeah, of course," you replied, though the words sounded hollow even to you. "Just... big changes, you know?"

Her lips parted, as though she was about to say something, but the voice of one of the analysts cut through the moment. "Paige Bueckers is a generational talent, the kind of player who can turn a struggling franchise into a contender. Wherever she ends up, she’ll be the face of the team—and the league—for years to come."

Paige smirked, her eyes flickering back to the screen. "No pressure, right?" she joked, her laugh light and airy.

You managed a faint chuckle, but your gaze drifted back to the TV. The words echoed in your mind—wherever she ends up. The reality of it was sinking in now, each city they mentioned feeling like a little reminder of how far she could be from here. From you. 

Your stomach churned, the what-ifs swirling in your mind, but you swallowed the lump in your throat and tightened your grip on her arm. "No pressure," you echoed softly, your attempt at a smile faltering as the weight of the conversation you both needed to have settled heavily in the room.

You managed a soft laugh, but the sound felt foreign, caught somewhere between your chest and throat. Your mind, however, was a whirlwind—spinning with a thousand questions, a thousand uncertainties. The thought of Paige leaving, of her packing up and moving thousands of miles away, twisted itself deeper into your thoughts. It was a jarring reality, one that you hadn’t quite processed until now. The idea of her being so far, of the life you’d been building together being uprooted, gnawed at you like an ache you couldn’t shake. For a fleeting moment, the cozy warmth of the evening, the easy comfort of the couch and Paige’s arms around you, seemed to dim—fading into the background, as if overshadowed by the looming storm in your mind.

You shifted in Paige’s embrace, adjusting to face her more fully. Her body heat, once soothing, now felt distant, like an anchor too far out of reach. The soft glow of the TV, once so comforting with its familiar noise, faded into mere background hum. Yet the words they’d been saying—about Paige’s future, her draft prospects, her potential to be the face of an entire team—those words lingered. They clung to the air between you like smoke. 

Your fingers found the hem of her hoodie, absently twisting the fabric between your fingers as you fought to steady the rising tide of emotions threatening to spill over. This conversation had been coming for weeks, and you knew it, but hearing it all laid bare, with the prospect of her leaving becoming real, was harder than you’d expected.

“Paige,” you started, your voice quieter than you intended, cautious as it slipped from your lips. You swallowed once, gathering the right words—words that wouldn’t send her into defense mode, words that wouldn’t make her think you were doubting her. You fidgeted with the fabric, finding it oddly grounding as you tried to put your thoughts together. “Have you thought about what’s going to happen… after the draft?”

The question hung in the air, delicate and fragile. You hoped it wouldn’t shatter everything you’d built.

Paige blinked, her gaze briefly pulling away from yours as she processed your words. For a second, her expression was unreadable, the usual openness in her eyes clouded with something you couldn’t quite place. Then, after a breath, she shrugged, her shoulders lifting in a casual, almost dismissive gesture. "Not really," she replied, her voice light, too light. "I mean, we’ll figure it out."

Her words were meant to be reassuring, but they felt hollow, like a promise she hadn’t fully thought through. The ease with which she’d brushed off the question—the lack of real consideration in her answer—struck you like a sudden chill.

Her nonchalance stung more than you expected, like a sharp, sudden crack that left a lingering ache behind. You had always admired how Paige could stay so effortlessly confident, but in this moment, her casual demeanor felt like a wall you couldn’t get past. The way she dismissed the weight of the conversation, as if it was nothing more than a passing thought, made your heart sink deeper. You needed clarity—needed her to see just how serious this was—but her tone only made the tension between you feel heavier, as if you were both in two completely different worlds.

You blinked, trying to steady your breathing. Your heart raced, the knot in your chest tightening as you processed her response. We’ll figure it out, she had said. But you weren’t sure that was true. 

The more you thought about it, the more it gnawed at you. You hadn’t even gotten the chance to think about your own life, your own career, your own future in all of this. You’d been so caught up in supporting her, in being there for her as she prepared for this monumental step, that you hadn’t paused to ask the most important question: What about me?

“Figure it out how?” you asked, your voice wavering despite your best efforts to sound steady. You could feel the pressure building in your chest, the familiar anxiety of facing something you didn’t want to face, but you couldn’t just let this go. You needed her to see the stakes.

Paige let out a soft exhale and leaned back into the couch with a lazy stretch, her muscles flexing under her hoodie as she made herself comfortable, completely unaware—or maybe just unconcerned—about how the words she was saying were affecting you. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice relaxed, as if she had no cares in the world. “I’ll move wherever I get drafted, and you’ll come with me. Right?”

Her words hit you like a slap, so unexpectedly hard that they left you momentarily stunned. The assumption in her voice, the casualness, it felt like a complete oversight, like she hadn't even taken a second to consider what it might mean for you. The air between you seemed to freeze, the space on the couch growing wider as you recoiled, pulling back just enough to distance yourself from the weight of her statement.

You blinked, your chest tightening as you processed what she’d just said. You searched her face, her eyes, hoping to see a flicker of recognition—some sign that she realized the enormity of what she was suggesting. But there was nothing. She looked... calm. Completely at ease. Like she had just suggested picking a place to eat for dinner or choosing a movie to watch. Her expression was so serene that it almost made you question if she had really understood the magnitude of her words.

You’ll come with me. Right?

"Wait," you said, your voice quieter than it had been a moment ago, but the edge of sharpness in it still made you pause. You took a deep breath, trying to keep your composure, but it was hard when her casual assumption hit you like a wave. "You just assumed I’d uproot my whole life and move with you?"

It felt like a jolt of cold reality that you weren’t prepared for, and as much as you wanted to remain calm, the frustration bubbled up inside of you. The way she had dismissed your career, your life, your plans, as though they were secondary to her dreams... it wasn’t just unfair—it was hurtful.

Paige's brow furrowed slightly as she processed your words. She shifted, sitting up straighter now, her posture more defensive. "Well, yeah. I mean... isn’t that what people do when they’re committed? I thought we were on the same page about this." She leaned forward slightly, her tone still casual, but there was a hint of confusion creeping into her voice as she tried to reconcile the difference between her perception and yours.

Your chest tightened, but you forced yourself to stay calm. You took another breath, letting the anger simmer beneath the surface without letting it completely take over. You needed to get your point across without letting the frustration drown you. "On the same page?" you repeated, your voice steady but thick with disbelief. A soft, incredulous laugh escaped you, but it held no humor. "Paige, we’ve never even talked about this. Not once."

The words felt heavy in the air as you glanced at her, your gaze steady and controlled despite the way your stomach twisted. She was still looking at you with that same puzzled expression, as if the idea that you’d feel any differently hadn’t even occurred to her.

"You just decided for me that I’d leave my job, my friends, everything, to follow you?" You let the question hang in the air, each word deliberate, your calm voice betraying none of the overwhelming emotions that had started to churn inside. It was as if you were watching yourself from outside your body, trying to make sense of this entire conversation, this entire situation. How had things gotten to this point without either of you discussing the most basic of expectations?

There was a brief silence between you as you let the weight of your words sink in. Paige’s expression shifted then, her brow furrowing deeper as she processed your reaction. But even in the quiet that followed, you could see the realization dawning on her. She had never really thought about what it would mean for you—she had assumed that because her path was clear, everyone else’s would align with it too.

The thought that she hadn’t considered your life, your dreams, your commitments, hurt more than you expected.

She looked genuinely taken aback, her eyes wide with a mix of confusion and surprise. For a brief moment, she seemed to freeze, as if the possibility that this might actually be a big deal had never even crossed her mind. The way her gaze darted from you to the space between you both was enough to make you feel like an invisible wall was slowly building. “I didn’t think it would be…” Her voice trailed off for a second as she searched for the right words, the weight of your unspoken frustrations hanging heavy between you. “I didn’t think it would be an issue. You love me, and I love you. Isn’t that what matters?”

You found yourself responding before you could stop it, the hurt leaking through in the sharpness of your voice. “You don’t think my life matters?” you shot back, the words tumbling out like a dam breaking. The hurt was so raw, so real, that you couldn’t mask it, couldn’t pretend that this wasn’t a breaking point for you.

Paige's face twisted in confusion, like she couldn’t fully process the weight of what you were saying. Her eyebrows knit together, her lips pressed into a tight line as she tried to piece together your reaction. “What? No, that’s not what I’m saying.” Her voice was defensive now, the tone shifting from confusion to frustration, a hint of impatience creeping in. She leaned back slightly, her body language closed off, and you could see the frustration building in her eyes. “But come on, it’s not like your podcast can’t be done anywhere. It’s not like it’s… a real job.” The moment the words left her mouth, her eyes widened slightly, as if she suddenly realized the weight of what she’d just said. It was a fleeting expression, gone as quickly as it came, but it was enough to make the air around you feel suffocating.

Her words hit like a slap, and you froze, feeling the air in the room grow thick with tension. The way she said it—casually, without a second thought—made something inside you snap. Your mind raced, trying to process how she could belittle something you had poured your heart into for years. Something that wasn’t just a passion but a future you had worked tirelessly toward.

For a moment, you couldn’t speak. The words she’d just spoken clung to the air between you like poison, and the silence felt heavier than anything you’d ever experienced. Paige, still unaware of how deeply her words had cut, shifted uncomfortably on the couch, as if she was expecting this to blow over quickly. But you couldn’t let it slide—not this time.

Your eyes met hers, your jaw tightening with resolve as you finally found your voice. "You have no idea how much I’ve invested in this—how much it means to me. It’s not just some side hobby, Paige. It’s my career. It’s my future." You stood up slowly, the calm you’d been holding onto slipping as you struggled to keep it together. "I don’t expect you to understand what it takes, but don’t you dare act like it isn’t important."

Her eyes flickered with guilt, but there was also a stubbornness there, a refusal to fully comprehend the depth of your frustration. She opened her mouth to say something but paused, as if she finally realized how far this had gone—how wrong she’d been. The air between you both grew thick with unspoken apologies and lingering questions.

Your stomach dropped at the silence, a heavy, hollow sensation filling you from the inside out, and the room seemed to stretch and contract all at once. The warmth of the evening was now completely gone, replaced by the cold reality of what she’d implied. The words she’d thrown out so carelessly reverberated in your mind, each one growing sharper, more painful the longer you thought about it.

You stared at her, searching her face for some sign that this was a misunderstanding, but all you saw was a mix of confusion and regret, too little, too late. The hurt came crashing over you in waves, and you felt it all at once—a rush of anger, disappointment, and sadness that left you breathless. It was like a dam had broken, and the flood of emotions poured out before you could even process them.

“Wow,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air, heavy with disbelief. You shook your head slowly, a bitter laugh escaping your lips, though it didn’t feel at all like something to laugh about. “You have nothing to say?”

You felt the anger bubble up, making it impossible to stay still. “Y/N, that’s not what I—” she began, but you didn’t give her the chance to finish. The words were like a knee-jerk reaction, a defense mechanism you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Don’t,” you cut her off, the words sharp and final as you stood, distancing yourself both physically and emotionally. You took a few steps away, the space between you growing wider with every second that passed. Your chest tightened, a mix of hurt and frustration making it harder to breathe. “Just don’t.”

Paige opened her mouth to argue but stopped, her lips pressing into a thin line. The tension in the air was palpable, every word unsaid only deepening the divide between you.

You didn’t want to hear her excuses. You didn’t want to listen to her try and explain away the damage she’d caused with a single careless comment. It was as if she didn’t even recognize the weight of your sacrifices, the hours of work, the relentless drive that had gone into making the podcast something you could be proud of.

You wrapped your arms around yourself and turned away, the cold creeping in even as the air in the room thickened. You wanted to scream, to ask her how she could be so blind, but all that came out was silence—heavy, suffocating silence that stretched between you like an impenetrable wall.

 The stillness of the room felt suffocating as you turned back toward Paige, your eyes narrowing slightly as you watched her shift uncomfortably, her expression waver between frustration and guilt. But it wasn’t enough—none of it was enough—to calm the anger and hurt that was boiling inside you, threatening to spill over.

“Do you even understand what my podcast means to me?” you asked, your voice trembling at first but quickly steadying with each word. You couldn’t stop now. The words felt like they were clawing their way out of you, desperate to be heard, to make her understand. “It’s not just some hobby I do for fun. It’s my passion, Paige. It started as this little thing Taylor and I threw together in college, sure. But it grew. We grew. We’ve built something that people actually care about. Something I care about.”

You took a deep breath, the silence between you pressing on your chest, but you continued, not giving her the chance to interrupt. “Do you realize how much work I’ve put into this? The late nights researching, the hours of editing, the moments of doubt where I questioned if it was even worth it... But I kept going, Paige. I kept going because it meant something to me. Because it was more than just an idea—it was my life.”

You paced again, unable to stay still, the agitation making it harder to find the right words. “And now, you’re telling me that I can just drop everything and follow you wherever you go. Like this—” you motioned to the space between you, gesturing at the room, the life you had built around the podcast, “—is all so disposable. That my career, my dreams, don’t mean anything in comparison to yours.”

You stopped walking, standing still now, the weight of your own words sinking in. The room felt thick with emotion, your chest tight as you tried to steady your breathing. Paige looked at you, her face a mix of confusion and guilt, but you weren’t sure if she was seeing you—or just the frustration of the situation.

“You never asked me, Paige,” you said quietly, but there was an edge to your voice now, one you couldn’t suppress. “You never gave me the chance to decide what I want to do. You just assumed. You assumed that my life was secondary to yours. And that hurts more than anything.”

The silence stretched out again, but this time it was different. It wasn’t the heavy, suffocating silence of earlier. It was quieter—filled with the weight of things left unsaid, of walls that were now higher than they had been moments ago. And no matter how badly you wanted to go back to the way things were, you couldn’t ignore the sting of her words, the hurt of being overlooked.

Paige opened her mouth to respond, but you held up a hand to stop her, your words spilling out now like a dam breaking.

“When I started it, I thought it would be a stepping stone, you know?” you said, your voice softening slightly as you let the weight of the memory carry your words. The anger was still there, but it was now laced with a quiet sadness, the kind of sadness that came from realizing something you loved might not matter to the person who meant the most to you. “A way to get into sports broadcasting someday. Just a way to prove myself in a world where everyone told me I had to be more than just ‘the girl with a mic.’ But it turned into so much more. It grew into something I didn’t expect. It became my purpose, Paige.”

You paused, feeling the words weigh heavy in your chest as they tumbled out. “We get messages from listeners—real people—saying our episodes helped them find their voice, or gave them the confidence to chase their dreams. They’ve told us we’ve made them feel seen, heard. Do you know what that feels like? To have someone tell you that you’ve made a difference in their life, even if it’s just in a small way? That the words you’ve said, the stories you’ve shared, have actually meant something to them?”

You shook your head, swallowing hard as your thoughts started to spill faster, more desperately. “I can’t just leave that behind, Paige. It’s not just something I can put on pause. It’s part of who I am now. It’s everything I’ve worked for. Taylor and I built this thing together. We’ve spent years finding our rhythm, figuring out how to work seamlessly as a team. That doesn’t just happen over Zoom. I can’t replicate that through a screen." You paused, your voice softening. "And even if we tried, it wouldn’t feel the same. The podcast wouldn’t feel the same."

Your voice trembled with the weight of the truth, the truth that felt like a wall between you and Paige. She was listening now, her gaze softening, but there was a distant look in her eyes. It was the look of someone who didn’t quite get it, not yet—not fully. And it stung, the idea that she still didn’t understand how much this meant to you.

Her gaze softened slightly at your words, but you didn’t let it distract you. The vulnerability in your voice, the quiet ache of wanting her to understand, was a double-edged sword. You needed her to understand, but you couldn’t afford to soften what you were saying now. “This isn’t just about you, or me, or us. This is about everything I’ve built—everything I’ve sacrificed. I need you to see that.”

Paige flinched at your words, guilt flashing in her eyes, but you weren’t done.

“I love you, Paige. I love you so much it scares me sometimes. But I can’t lose myself in the process. I won’t. And I thought you, of all people, would understand that.”

The room fell silent except for the faint murmur of the TV in the background. Paige looked down at her hands, her expression unreadable, as you stood there, waiting for her to say something, anything, that could fix the growing chasm between you.

Paige sat there in silence, the only sound in the room being the faint tapping of her fingers against the side table, each tap like a beat of an unsaid apology. Her gaze was fixed on the floor, but it was clear she wasn’t seeing it. Her mind seemed to be elsewhere, turning over her words and the weight of your frustration. The tension between you two hung in the air, thick and suffocating.

When she finally lifted her eyes to meet yours, the expression there was different—vulnerable, uncertain, like she was trying to piece together the right words but couldn’t find the thread. Her voice was soft, carrying a hint of something fragile, something far more careful than before. "I didn’t mean to make it sound like what you do isn’t important," she said, her voice wavering just a bit. "I know how much your podcast means to you. I’ve seen how hard you work on it—how late you stay up, how much passion you put into every episode. I respect that, I do. I just…" She trailed off, clearly struggling to put her feelings into words, her eyes searching for some kind of understanding that she couldn’t quite reach.

You couldn’t stop yourself from pushing, from needing to hear more—to understand if there was a place for your voice in her world, or if you’d just been another thought she hadn’t really considered. "You just what?" you asked, your tone sharper than you meant, the hurt lacing your words threatening to unravel you.

Paige let out a long, defeated sigh, her shoulders slumping as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. She seemed smaller now, quieter, the usual confident spark in her eyes dimmed. Her fingers drummed against the fabric of her hoodie in a nervous rhythm, as if it helped her think through the mess of her own thoughts. "I guess I didn’t think about it enough," she admitted, the words coming slower now, more deliberate. "I just assumed we were on the same page. That you’d want to come with me, wherever I end up. I mean, I thought that’s what people in serious relationships do. They make it work, no matter what."

You felt the knot of frustration twist tighter in your chest, but now it wasn’t just frustration. It was the raw sting of realization—she hadn’t even considered that your world was important enough to stay in. That she could hurt you without even knowing it.

"You assumed," you murmured, repeating her words to yourself, trying to understand. The air between you seemed to grow colder, the warmth that had once been shared between the two of you slipping away with each passing second. "You assumed we’d just make it work. Making it work doesn’t mean one person sacrifices everything while the other gets to chase their dreams without a second thought, Paige."

She flinched again, rubbing the back of her neck. "I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I’ve been so focused on this draft, on everything that comes after, that I didn’t stop to think about how it might affect you. And that was wrong. But I thought—"

"You thought what?" you interrupted, your voice rising now. "That I’d just drop everything without a conversation? That I’d be fine leaving my life just because you’re Paige Bueckers and I should be grateful to be in your orbit?"

Paige’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought she might snap back, but she didn’t. Instead, she leaned back against the couch, her shoulders slumping. "I didn’t mean to make it seem like that," she said, her voice quieter now. "I just… I thought we were committed enough that it wouldn’t even be a question. That we’d figure it out together."

"Committed enough?" you repeated, incredulous. "Paige, being committed means talking about things. It means understanding each other’s priorities and figuring out how to support each other. It doesn’t mean making thoughtless decisions about what the other person is willing to give up."

The room was thick with tension, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The faint buzz of ESPN in the background was the only sound, a reminder of the looming draft that had started this argument in the first place.

"I love you," Paige said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "And I want us to be together, no matter what. I’m sorry for ever assuming and I’m sorry I ever said your podcast wasn’t a real job, I’ve never thought that. But I don’t know how to fix this right now. I don’t know how to make you feel like you don’t have to choose between me and your career, because honestly? I don’t even know how to make this work."

Her vulnerability softened some of the anger coursing through you, but it didn’t erase the hurt. You took a deep breath, your voice steadying. "We can’t fix this tonight, Paige. But we need to figure out what this relationship looks like moving forward. Because I can’t be in a relationship where my dreams are treated like an afterthought. And if that’s too much for you, then maybe…"

Your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard, unable to finish the sentence.

Paige’s eyes widened, and she immediately stood, crossing the space between you in an instant. "Don’t," she said firmly, reaching for your hand. "Don’t even say it. We’ll figure it out, okay? I don’t have all the answers right now, but I’m not losing you. Not over this."

You looked at her, the determination in her eyes clashing with the doubt lingering in your heart. Could you really find a way to make it work? Or was this the beginning of a painful realization that love, no matter how strong, wasn’t always enough?

[emchante]

soooo... the idea of a private chat with softcore porn streamer!max has been cooking in my brain..

reader is quite nervous when they check the time and see it's a couple of minutes before their scheduled call. they got new lingerie after finding out max' fav colour is royal blue to surprise him, just before max calls, reader adjusts the camera to show off everything below their face and when the call connects- max has to hold back a moan bc goddamn... how did reader know his favourite colour?

well hi there, you absolutely look ravishing.. blue, huh? you just happen to like that colour or did you plan to make me horny from the start?

my hormones are going CRAZY please send help

🩵

🩵 NONNIE!! ur always cooking up the best ideas, i’m 🫣 at reading this myself.

18+ — minors dni.

are you ready?

that’s the notification that pops up on your screen as you check the time. it’s still a couple minutes until the scheduled time, so you give yourself those last few moments to try calm your nerves.

the royal blue lingerie clings to your body in all the right ways, the fabric soft and delicate, yet daring enough to make you feel like a walking temptation. the lace cups of the bra sculpt your chest perfectly, the intricate floral patterns drawing the eye with their sheer elegance.

the panties are a perfect match— high-cut to elongate your legs, with a teasingly sheer panel across the front. the same lace detail wraps around your hips, accentuating your curves, while the satin waist and glides across your skin like a whisper.

you take a deep breath, telling max you’re ready whenever he is. you take the time to readjust your camera, making sure your full body is in frame. there’s only a peek of your head in the frame, showing max your lips and then it cuts off.

you don’t have anymore time to fix anything as the ringing begins to sing through the monitor of your pc. you reach over, hitting ‘accept call’ before you sit back, waiting for the lines to sync.

the first thing you hear from max is a gasp, watching his eyes widen as they roam over his screen, taking in every inch of you that he can see.

“well hi there,” he laughs lowly, clearly caught off guard by the sight of you. “you look absolutely ravishing,” he continues, licking his plump lips as his eyes continue to take in everything.

you blush at his words, smiling as you run your hands along your thighs, sitting properly for him. “was it worth the wait?” you ask, hands moving upwards to trail across your torso. your hands gently cup your breasts, thumbs poking at your sensitive nipples, letting out a small mewl for max.

the deep exhale and flushed cheeks is enough to tell you yes, it was worth the wait. “i’d wait lifetimes to see you, liefje,” he winks at the camera, before he sits right back against his chair. “hm.. blue though? did you just happen to like that colour, or was there another reason for it?” he asks, eyes darkening at the way your breath hitches.

“i—” is all you manage to breathe out, before a small whine escapes your throat. max smirks, realising he has the upperhand now.

“did you plan to make me horny from the get go?” he asks, but doesn’t give you any time to respond. “because it’s working, you know,” he confirms, moving his hand down to his grey sweatpants and oh.

you can see the outline of his erect cock through the soft fabric, and you stare at his crotch with want. not that he can see that though, but he watches the way your lips drop open, tongue running along your bottom lip.

“just the thought of you is enough to get me going, you know? the teasing you do in chat, the name-calling through donations,” he lists off, as his thumb strokes his clothed erection. “but now? seeing you like this? i don’t know how i’m going to last,” he tells you lowly, a groan escaping his throat as he squeezes himself.

“start touching yourself from the top of your body liefje, and then you can work your way down for me.”

GOOD GOD IM?? BLUSHING AT THIS?? need him sooo badly..

[clonetrooperjournals]

Stutters

Summary : Working in the Mechanics department of the GAR has its challenges but when your a loner with a stutter who gets bullied on the daily the last thing you expect is the friendship of the Bad Batch Pairings : Crosshair x Fem!reader (Mechanic reader) Warnings : angst, bullying, verbal and physical bullying, reader has a stutter, reader has a fat crush on crosshair (don't we all?), fluff, slightly spicy, happy ending Words : 2.1k Masterlist here dividers by @saradika-graphics

“H-Hand me t-t-the hydro s-s-spanner R3”  

The transport ship you had been working on was nearly finished. It looked like it had been to hell and back, covered in scorch marks, one side had half of the metal panels missing causing the need for the exposed wiring to be completely replaced. You had been stuck working on this ship for nearly 10 hours and was just about ready to call it quits. As you wipe the sweat from your brow you hear a commotion coming from the entry of the hangar.  

“Their back!” 

“Oh I hope there all okay!”  

“I hope Wrecker picks me up again!” 

The marauder lands and all the boys exit the ship. Clone force 99 has been the object of affection for a lot of the civilian mechanics. Most of the girls around here are used to the average clone so when the bad batch were put into the action most of the girls saw it as something different and throw themselves at them whenever they return home. You also thought they were handsome, especially one in particular but, you kept that to yourself. There's a reason you're a loner, nobody wants a stuttering mess of a person, including a super soldier with enhanced abilities.   

R3 rolls off to go and see the boys, knowing that Tech likes to dote on him. As you continue your wiring you hear the happy chirps of R3 getting closer and you giggle, “Y-yes R3 I’m g-g-glad the b-boys are h-home t-too.”  

“Yes, it is good to be home,” Tech says as he walks over to you with your droid, the others are trailing behind him.  

Your cheeks flush and you avoid the gaze of a certain sniper in the back of the group, “H-How w-was the m-m-mission?”  

“Long, but successful” Hunter says tiredly.  

You smile and nod, “I-I’m glad y-your all s-safe.” 

You had become friends with Tech after he fixed an issue with R3 a while back. You didn’t even know what was wrong with the astromech, but Tech saw you struggling and his curiosity got the better of him and he came to offer his assistance. Since then, he always comes to check up on you whenever they return home. He was a talker and a tinkerer, and since you preferred listening to talking, Tech rather enjoyed your company, especially when he needed time away from his brothers. Tech was one of the people you can genuinely say is a friend, he was always patient, understanding and never made fun of your stutter. He did sometimes try to come up with different methods and exercises for you to try to reduce the amount of stuttering, but you assumed Hunter told him to stop because he hasn’t said anything recently. You know he does it out of concern since he found out about the bullying, he’s been more attentive and checking on you more, even the other squad members come with him to check on you now. You assume he told them as well, which is its own form of embarrassing, but you know Tech means well so you can’t really hold it against him.  

 You glance around you and see some of the other girls pretending to be working while they glare at you. It hadn’t been bad at first, you had grown up with the stutter, you know how cruel people can be, so when some of the other mechanics started making offhand comments you didn’t let it bother you. Then it became more frequent, starting to make fun of you to your face and laugh when you would try to stutter your way through defending yourself, but when Tech became your friend, it got a whole lot worse. Suddenly the girls would corner you, make fun of and threaten you, hide your tools so you couldn’t work and complain about you to your superior, all because the batch were forming a friendship with you and in doing so, taking their eyes off of them. You didn’t tell Tech that the bullying got worse, you knew he would try to make it right or worse stop coming around so much. No matter how bad these girls treat you, you would put up with it every time if it meant you had a group of people you could call your friends.  

Crosshair noticed your gaze flickering to the girls behind them, but he said nothing. He had noticed recently that you’ve been more skiddish, and quiet. You’ve been trying to keep your distance without jeopardizing the friendship, suffering in silence. At first when Tech told the batch that you were being bullied Crosshair wanted to go off on his own and teach those girls a lesson because how dare they bully someone so beautiful and innocent? Until he realized that he was acting emotionally and instead just stayed quiet. It's not his fight, and even though it was very obvious you had a crush on him he wasn’t going to act on it. No matter how beautiful and perfect he thought you were...  

“Something wrong?” Crosshair asked raising a brow.  

Your eyes widened and you quickly looked down blushing hard knowing you’ve been caught, “N-No.”  

The others glance around and then nod to each other thinking its best they leave. They nod to you and leave the hangar, Hunter patting your shoulder on his way. Tech looks at you unsure, “Are you sure you’re, okay?”  

You smile at your friend, “I-I’m ok T-Tech.”  

“Alright if you're sure... Would you join us for dinner later? If you're finished with your work,” he asks hopefully.  

“I-I’d like t-that," you say gently.  

Tech nods and leaves the hangar to join the rest of the batch. You start to put your tools away, finally done for the day when a boot kicks your toolbox spilling your tools all over the hangar floor, “You’ve got some nerve stutters, flirting with them like the rest of us don’t have a chance!” 

“I-I w-wasn't f-flirt-” 

“Shut up!” Neela yells, the three other girls who make your life hell joining her around you. “You just don’t learn, do you? We told you to stay away from them, but you just can’t help yourself!”  

A loud smack echos through the hangar as you feel the sting on your cheek. Tears well up in your eyes as you grab your cheek, “I-I’m s-s-sorry! I w-wasn't-” 

“I said shut up!” Neela interrupts pushing you down. R3 was trying to get to you but the others held him back, “Next time you pull a stunt like that we’ll make sure, you regret it...”  

She turns on her heels and walks away the others trailing behind her avoiding your gaze as R3 rolls beside you chirping fast making sure you're okay. You quickly pick up your tools throwing them into your toolbox and then run out of the hangar back to your bunk, tears streaming down your face, and R3 rolling behind you.  

What you didn’t know was that Crosshair had come back to grab something from the marauder when he witnessed what had happened. And he was fuming.   

... 

You skipped dinner with the boys knowing that the girls would have been watching, and instead just lay in your bunk crying. You hear an unexpected knock on your door and roll over hoping the person would leave. The knocking however continued, and you sighed getting out of bed going to the door. You looked in the mirror and cringed at the sight, the red puffy eyes, tear streaks down your face, the bruise on your cheek, you’re a mess. You pulled your hair in front of your face best you could and opened the door.  

Not looking up you see a tall thin physique in nothing but blacks, “C-can I h-h-help you?” 

A gentle hand lifts your chin to meet Crosshairs intense eyes. He doesn’t say anything just looks over your face, his fingers ghosting over the bruise on your cheek a fury in his eyes. You back away looking down again, “I-It’s n-nothing...” 

“Doesn’t look like nothing” he quips back.  

You look up at him then cheeks burning, “did y-you n-n-need somet-thing C-Crosshair?”  

“No” he replies.  

You look at him confused but he doesn’t say anything. Crosshair’s not much of a talker and typically just stays with the boys so you were very confused why he was knocking on your door. You look around to make sure the other mechanics weren’t spying on you and sigh stepping aside to let him in. He hesitates but then enters your small room looking around before sitting on the edge of your bed. You slowly walk over to the bed, sitting by him with a large gap between the two of you.   

He pulls a tube of bacta gel out of his pocket handing it to you, “here.” 

“T-Thanks... wait,” you take the gel looking at him, “H-How did y-you k-know I n-needed this?” 

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, “why didn’t you fight back?” 

You sigh the tears welling up in your eyes, of course he would be the one to see. You shake your head eyes squeezed shut trying to breathe, “I-I c-can't! It w-would m-m-make it w-worse!”  

“Then get a transfer. Away from them, somewhere you’ll be safer i-” 

“I-I d-don't want a t-t-transfer!” you panic.  

He eyes you questioningly, “Why not?” 

“B-Because I-I'll never s-s-see y-you!” you yell. Then realizing what you just said you gasp hiding your face in your hands panicking. It’s quiet for a minute and your sure Crosshair is coming up with some response to reject you, but when you peek out of your hands you see his smirk. 

“And why would you wanna see me?”  

You keep your hands over your face as you whisper, “b-because I... I l-like you...” 

You hear his deep chuckle as he grabs your hands moving them from your face, “I know. You're not exactly subtle.” He leans forward faces inches away from each other, “but I’m not worth your safety.” 

“Y-you are t-t-to me...”  

His eyes widen for a second then he smiles a sultry smile, “Guess I’ll just have to make sure they don’t hurt whose mine then.”  

Hope fills your eyes as you stare back at him, “Y-Yours?” 

He grabs your chin slamming his lips onto yours. You groan into the kiss grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him even closer. He smiles and starts to trail kisses down your neck, “Mine.”  

...  

A week has gone by since that night with Crosshair, and today the boys were being deployed to Felucia. Your cheek had healed, and you’ve been happier than ever, confusing the girls who’ve been bullying you for months. The boys have been keeping their distance as per Crosshairs request, saying that he had a plan to handle the bullying. The girls were still bullying you, but nothing physical since the night of the slap and you’ve been ignoring them the best you can.  

Everyone was gathered to watch the boys depart getting their last chances to flirt with them, and as you and R3 walked up they all turned and smiled, not seeing the death glares of the women they were talking to. You walked over ignoring the piercing stares of the other girls, standing in front of your friends, “H-How long th-this t-t-time?”  

Tech types away on his data pad, “If all goes according to schedule we should be returning within 30 standard rotations.”    

Echo and Hunter look behind you worriedly, “You gonna be okay while were gone?”  

“Y-Yeah I’ll b-be o-o-okay,” you smiled warmly.  

Crosshair who had been watching from the back walked over to you with a sly smile on his face making you blush. The boys watched confused as Crosshair grabbed you by the hips and kissed you roughly in front of the whole crowd, stunning everyone into silence.  

You both pulled away smiling and Crosshair looked behind you wickedly, “She’ll be just fine, or you’ll be answering to me.” The girls all nodded in their shocked silence, “Good.” 

The boys all give you a questioning look, but you smile and nod at them. One by one they all smile back and head onto the Marauder leaving just you and Crosshair. He runs a hand up your side and pulls you in for another kiss this one slower and more heated. When he pulls back, he whispers in your ear, “See you soon baby.” 

And with a wink he heads onto the ship, you smile and wave as the ship takes off already waiting for his return.  

[saebyeokbliss]

JUST MEET ME AT THE APT.— K. SAE-BYEOK

CHAPTER SIX

synopsis: managing a rising rock band is already chaotic enough, but when you're stuck touring with four reckless musicians, things get even messier. between late-night facetime calls, teasing that feels a little too knowing, and a certain guitarist who might just be your biggest problem, keeping things professional is getting harder by the second. but hey, no one said the music industry was easy.

warnings: mutual pining, intense eye contact, teasing that borders on flirting (or maybe it is flirting), friends who refuse to mind their business, late-night facetime calls, secondhand embarrassment, slow burn that burns, emotional whiplash, cheol and ms. kang being the sweetest people to exist

playlist: spotify

It was late by the time you decided to leave.

The girls were still sprawled across the living room, half-distracted by their phones, still immersed in whatever chaos Jisoo was stirring up in their group chat.

You stood up, grabbing your bag. "Alright, I should head home. Got some work stuff to take care of."

A few half-hearted goodbyes were thrown your way—Ji-Yeong waved lazily, Se-Mi mumbled something about texting later, and No-Eul gave a small nod without looking up from her phone.

Sae-Byeok didn’t say anything.

Not at first.

You told yourself it didn’t bother you.

But it did.

Just a little.

"Oh, wait!" Ms. Kang suddenly appeared from the kitchen, holding out a small bag. "Take this with you. I packed some leftovers—you’ve been working too hard, you need to eat properly."

Your heart ached at the warmth in her voice.

She reminded you too much of your own mother—always making sure you were taken care of, even when she didn’t have to.

You swallowed past the sudden lump in your throat, accepting the bag with a small, grateful smile. "Thank you, eomoni."

She patted your arm gently. "Get home safe, alright? And don’t overwork yourself."

"I won’t," you promised, even if you weren’t sure how true that was.

Just as you turned to leave, Cheol ran up to you, something clutched in his hands.

"Wait! Before you go!"

You barely had time to react before he threw his arms around you in a quick but tight hug.

Then, he pulled back and shoved a folded piece of paper into your hands.

You opened it—and immediately laughed.

It was a hand-drawn comic.

One panel showed you and Cheol as superheroes, capes billowing behind you, standing triumphantly over a defeated villain. Another had you both high-fiving, and the last one had a speech bubble from Cheol’s character that said: "We make a good team."

You actually teared up.

"Oh my god, this is amazing," you said, beaming at him. "You’re seriously talented, Cheol."

He grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean… yeah, I know."

You laughed, ruffling his hair. "I’m keeping this forever."

"Good," he said confidently. "It’s one of a kind."

With that, you finally headed out, stepping into the cool night air.

Sae-Byeok sat stiffly on the couch, phone still in her hands, but she wasn’t really looking at it anymore.

She had heard everything.

Had seen the way you stood there, waiting for them to notice you.

Had seen the way Ms. Kang’s warmth made you pause, how Cheol’s small kindness had made you light up in a way the rest of them hadn’t bothered to.

And she had done nothing.

She had let you walk out that door, barely saying a word, too caught up in her own distractions.

The guilt hit her like a slow, creeping weight in her chest.

No-Eul, who had been watching quietly, finally spoke.

"She looked sad."

Sae-Byeok glanced at her, but No-Eul wasn’t even looking back—just scrolling through her phone like she hadn’t just hit directly on the nerve Sae-Byeok was trying to ignore.

Sae-Byeok clenched her jaw.

Then, without another word, she stood up and grabbed her jacket.

Ji-Yeong blinked. "Uh… where are you going?"

Sae-Byeok didn’t answer.

Because she didn’t know.

All she knew was that she was going after you.

The night air was cool against your skin as you walked down the quiet street, the bag of food from Ms. Kang clutched tightly in your hands.

You told yourself you weren’t upset.

You told yourself it didn’t matter.

You told yourself that it was fine—that they were just caught up in the excitement of everything blowing up after Coachella, that you shouldn’t feel left out, that it wasn’t their fault.

And yet, the ache in your chest wouldn’t go away.

You barely heard the footsteps behind you until a voice called out—

"Yah, wait!"

You turned just in time to see Sae-Byeok jogging toward you, her dark hair slightly tousled from the wind, jacket half-zipped like she had rushed to throw it on before chasing after you.

You blinked. "Sae-Byeok?"

She slowed to a stop in front of you, catching her breath, her brows furrowed in something that looked dangerously close to concern.

"Why weren’t you talking?" she asked.

You frowned. "What?"

"You barely said anything before leaving," she said, her tone sharper now. "You’ve been quiet all night."

You let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking your head. "Maybe because you were all busy."

Sae-Byeok’s expression hardened. "That’s not an excuse. If something was wrong, you should’ve said something."

Your patience snapped.

"Why?" you shot back, voice rising. "So you could half-listen while laughing at more of Jisoo’s memes?"

Sae-Byeok’s jaw tensed. "That’s what this is about?"

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair. "All anyone has been talking about—besides Coachella—is her."

Sae-Byeok’s brows knitted together. "That’s not—"

"If you all like her so much, then do something about it," you snapped, voice cutting through the night air.

Sae-Byeok’s eyes widened slightly, like she hadn’t expected that.

Like she hadn’t even thought about what it would sound like coming from you.

But you didn’t wait for her to respond.

You turned on your heel and stormed off, leaving her standing there, speechless, as the distance between you grew with every step.

And this time—

You didn’t look back.

taglist: @everly-summers-solace @knfthxv @madebysae @knfthxv @katieschry1 @imlackingsleep @lyzem @stellssxo @wiltingconquest @peelover25@monroesturnns @laurenkens @yenyu1s @idontliketoread2137 @bitchybananaflower @lyuuw

[aphroditeinthesea]

" hopelessly devoted to you "

jj maybank x innocent!reader

⚠️ swearing and mentioning of past sexual encounters

The party in some random’s house was getting stuffier by the second. You could hardly hear over the blaring music and could barely see through the clouds of smoke, let alone breathe. You had separated yourself from your friends to go to the bathroom but soon regretted it when you couldn't find a familiar face in sight. At last, you found a slight breeze from the open door. You squeezed your way out through people dancing and stumbling from their own intoxications.

You nearly slipped on sand that had breezed its way onto the front porch. You grabbed onto a railing to walk down the small stairs that led out. You walked over to a tree to lean against while you pulled out your phone to text any of your friends. You began typing something when you noticed faceless voices from the other side of the tree.

“Did you see JJ Maybank?” Your ears perked at the name of one of your closest friends being spoken by some girl you didn't know.

“No, why?”

“He was looking hot,” the girl’s voice slurred, “I hooked up with him last year, might need to again.”

The other girl’s voice chuckled, “I believe in you,” she said softer, clearly more sober, “but I thought he was dating that girl he’s always hanging with.”

“Kie?” Your phone was completely disregarded with a half written text on its screen as you stepped further back to try and hear them clearer.

“No, no, the other one,” the girl responded, “she’s like the prude one.”

Your stomach churned at the conversation. You. That’s how they described you. You were sure just mentioning your hair color would have suited just fine.

“Oh, her?” the drunker voice laughed, “even if he is, I don't think that would stop him.”

You found a pain in your stomach. Why would they think you two were dating? And why didn't they care?

You began walking away to the side of the house. You had a simple plan to wallow in yourself. You knew it was silly, but it couldn't help but bother you. Your heart was fucking stupid. That's what it was. When you first met JJ, that was one of the things most talked about him. He was serious about nothing. Not school, not his future, and not girls. But you couldn't help but sort of just fall.

“There you are,” the exact voice of pain sounded. You looked up to see him standing with the rest of the pogues, a blunt in his hand. He blew out a ring before he passed it to John B on his right, “where’ve you been?”

You leaned against the paneled wall, “around,” you shrugged, “needed some air.”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, “you alright?”

You quickly nodded, going stiff from his touch, “I’m fine.” Your arms crossed over your chest, “just tired.”

His thumb brushed the skin on your shoulder, exposed from your tank top, “I can walk you home if you wanna dip.”

“No, it’s okay,” you shook your head, “I’ll hang around for a little longer.”

“You sure?”

You nodded as you finally let yourself relax into his shoulder, “yeah, I’ll be fine.”

His arm around you tightened to keep you steady. “Let me know when you wanna go, I’ll walk you back.”

You hummed in agreement while you failed to notice the raised eyebrows at him from his friends. He waved them off with his free arm to get them off his back. Your tired eyes fluttered open when you heard the familiar laughter of the girls from before. You looked over to the source. One of the girls stumbled over towards your group while you subconsciously pressed yourself further towards JJ.

“Hey, Maybank,” she smirked.

“Uh, hey,” he nodded towards the girl. You watched her eyes pan over you briefly, making it worse. Like you weren't something she needed to worry about. Just the prude who hung around them.

She stepped closer, but just when she was about to try to say something, your voice found a quiet tone to speak up in.

“I’m gonna head out now,” you announced, standing up straighter. The girl glared at you and your timid voice. “Walk me home?” You asked, your doe eyes looking at JJ through your lashes.

He hesitated momentarily before nodding, “yeah, come on.” His arms traveled down to the small of your back to lead you away. He turned his head towards his friends, “see you, guys, later.”

They all waved their goodbyes to you and the blond boy as you turned around to wave back. You two made it to the sidewalk before he let his hand separate from your skin. Much to your disappointment.

“Did you know that girl?” You asked, your fingers nervously twirling in your hair.

He shook his head, “no, uhm,” he looked at his feet kicking small rocks on the concrete, “kinda.”

You turned your head up at him, “kinda?”

He looked at you finally, “well, we, I guess, we hooked up one time.”

“Oh,” you broke eye contact, “I heard her talking about you.”

“Really?”

You hesitated, wondering if you should even tell him, “yeah, she was saying she wanted to, you know..”

He laughed, “oh, wow.”

“Sorry about that.”

“About what?”

You awkwardly smiled, “cockblocking you, I guess.”

He chuckled and ran a hand over his face, “oh my God.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulders again, “you did not cockblock me, y/n.”

You giggled, “you sure?”

“Yeah, I did not want to get with her again.” He let the words fall out of his mouth, ultimately regretting them.

“Oh.”

“I mean, I just,” he sighed, “I don't like her like that. It was just one time.”

When you were about to respond, you noticed your house in front of you. He let go of you so you could walk over to open the gate, “thanks for walking with me.”

He nodded, “anytime.” He smiled down at you, “get some sleep.”

You closed the white gate, leaning over it to press a lipgloss kiss to his cheek, “see you tomorrow, Jayj.”

His hand reached up to his cheek, just hovering over the stain without wiping it off, “see you tomorrow.”

You shyly smiled before turning around and walking down the stone path leading to your front door. You opened it as you partly turned around to see him making sure you got in safely. You held up your hand, your fingers waved goodbye to him before you walked in.

You closed the door and locked it behind you. You felt a smile making its stay on your face while you leaned against the white wood. You felt the way you always did after seeing him. You tried to tell yourself it was nothing, he’s just a good friend. But the butterflies wouldn’t fade away.

[hestzhyen]

Chapter 80 Nerves Posting

Hello, dear void. The anxiety increases as we inch towards the climax of the arc.

Editor's Comments: First Page: でっけ-書庫 [dekke- shoko!!] "A huuuuuge library!!" Last Page: 己が戦場へ駆け出せ！！ [ono ga senjyou he kakedase!!] "Dash towards your own battlefield!!"

More Kamunabi Lore Dump

Kudou, you're a great person, but I felt seen and heard by Hakuri this chapter.

How I was feeling looking at all the yap in the first half of this chapter.

Ro, head of the Sorcery Nerd clan, having such a high opinion of Hakuri is adorable. Hakuri himself is adorable too. It's now canon that he gets nauseous when overloaded with information or asked to study though (please let this just be a silly gag and not tied to anxiety over trying to please his family). Hakuri, you're the best. I love you.

Following my favourite little guy has given us some insight into the Kamunabi side of things like I hoped. And more insight into the world building! Barrier and movement sorcery being "more academic" -plus some emphasis on how important it is to learn to be useful- makes me wonder if we'll get a Hakuri training arc focused on him making use of what's in the Kamunabi's library. Or maybe having someone like Azami teach him. Who better than the incredibly strong gorilla that's a head above the best sorcerers in the whole organisation?

I'm really sad that one of Hakuri's rare smiles was turned into this though:

Absolutely insane that the "x days since someone slit their throat in front of Hakuri" timer was reset to 0.

This poor kid can't escape people killing themselves in front of him. Then Kudou (most likely) died to save him too. He stays focused but honestly?! I feel like there's a good reason to think he'll burst one day. He's got a similar near-meltdown expression Chihiro had in chapter 11 before someone snaps him out of it. Neither of them are addressing the pain they've been shoving down to get things done. If that's not brought up in some way later on then I'll be disappointed honestly.

But anyway. The guy who killed himself: Ishihira, written as 石枚. 石 [ishi] for "stone" and 枚 [hira] for counter (of things like thin, flat objects, portions of gyoza or soba, ranks, fields or rice paddies, and more). Hokazono having a laugh at naming this guy Mr. Beancounter lmao. I feel awful for him though since the Hishaku are definitely doing dastardly deeds by taking his daughter as a hostage.

The second name we got was much more interesting: Prince Nez, the short Kamunabi guy that trained Shiba and Azami, is Ichiki (壱鬼). 壱 [ichi] for "first/one" and 鬼 [ki] for "ghost/devil". PLACE THOSE TRAITOR BETS! I think we'll have the reveal soon. Azami's busy entertaining Samuraishaku, Kudou just got murked, Eyepatch hasn't been on screen since the trial in chapter 46 basically, and we've seen quite a bit of Ichiki lately while not knowing where he is at present. Hmm.

Lastly, the elite squads.

Hajime...

Hagiwara is alive and not so well. But he's active and fighting at least. Man, he looks so bitter compared to the first time we saw him with the Anti-Kuregumo squad in chapter 11. I hope we catch up with him sooner or later.

I think we should also remember the woman in the panel underneath him. I won't be surprised if she comes back with a name to call her by.

HAKURI

I can't express how much I love him.

His mask is cracked so it seems like his Storehouse sorcery really is on thin ice. But man. He's always so good at thinking under pressure. And he even apologises for hurting the people who are beating him. Hakuri, you're so kind. Probably because he knows pain far too well.

Oh man.

This is extremely interesting framing to me. Hakuri's hand is outside the panel, partially covering up the huge LOVE (愛) in the narration box in Soya's panel. At least that's how it is in JP; I assume the English version will do the same. They got it close enough I guess.

But yeah. What's up with that?

Hakuri overcame Soya's "true love" and killed him to show that he finally broke free from the family bond that kept him trapped and helpless for so long. However, he acknowledged Soya's affection for him as such and doesn't talk about what he actually endured and how it affected him. He's still quite happy to say he's fine and get on with whatever needs doing. I really get the sense that Hakuri doesn't want to think about those experiences at all. He's fine now (he's not). He's okay (he's not). He can still be useful (and thinks he needs to be to be loved). He broke free from his family but not the mindset that was literally beaten into him.

So basically I'm interpreting this as more of Hakuri not wanting to acknowledge who and what gave him the strength to endure this attack and fight back. I wrote 8k words about all this in a different post but man, Hakuri... I hope we do address all the things that have been used against him lingering in his Storehouse.

The other thing I'm thinking of is that Hakuri might be cluing in that Soya's "love" for him (and Kyora's, the same ai/愛) isn't really love after all. But I think that's something further down the road for his character if we do address that aspect of what what instilled into him. Right now we're showcasing the Sazanami influence in terms of him thinking he needs to help and give everything he has for the cause. What love means and should feel like will come when Hakuri's finally ready to address that from a healthier frame of mind, most likely. If it's addressed at all (which I really hope it is).

It's also a bit odd for a reveal that Hakuri was abused for ten years instead of the five that he was "useless" for. Maybe Soya only really went off the rails when Kyora gave up on Hakuri? Or maybe he was abusive in the name of making Hakuri strong once training started? Soya a shit either way, may he burn in hell. Hakuri has better sources of strength now!

When in a pinch, think of the person who inspires you.

Once again he uses Chihiro as motivation to shore himself up and do everything he can. Just don't push yourself too far again... please...

Hishaku Machinations

It's all going to shit, just as planned.

Using Hakuri as bait, huh. Who is considered to be in the "main forces"? What's the ultimate goal of putting Hakuri in peril? Is he really the heroine of Kagurabachi? (Yes to the last one, apparently.)

The most obvious answer to the questions would probably be that Hakuri's intended to bait Chihiro away, probably to free up Samura. But that would be unsatisfying on a narrative level after we had so much setup for Chihiro and Samura to clash over ideals at last. It's possible despite the distance between Kyoto and Tokyo -Hakuri can summon him at will and all-, but it'd be a questionable and risky move is what I'm saying.

I think it might be bait for some people in the Kamunabi higher-ups, like how Kudou was taken out in the elevator. The higher-ups in the Kamunabi have some good eggs that would probably put their lives on the line to protect Hakuri if he gets in over his head. Kudo was the best of them but Azami certainly wouldn't let Hakuri be hurt- yet he's tied up with the Samurai Hishaku guy.

So who's left?

We have no information on where the other members of the council are right now. Ichiki, Beard, and Hairclips would be prime targets because they are key to sealing the Shinuchi and Beard in particular seems to be the leader. Ichiki might be with Azami (and is a great traitor candidate) though, and the little we saw of Hairclips made her seem very dispassionate. Beard isn't above bending morals but he's also got the greater good in mind so maybe him? He invited the Hishaku in to prevent innocent civilians from being caught up in the battle, so I can see him responding to Hakuri being put in danger.

Giraffe and Mutton Chops were the most dismissive of Chihiro and seem to care about the Kamunabi as an institution more than the people they're supposed to protect. I don't think they're traitors but they're not the type to respond to Hakuri being used as bait either in my mind.

Earlobes and Eyepatch don't feel like major players this arc. Earlobes has been shown talking and being a rather flippant guy, Eyepatch has been offscreen. I don't think they're going to show up.

As for other choices, it might be bait to leave the other Bearers we haven't met yet undefended- or to catch Shiba. Hiyuki wouldn't leave her post to save Hakuri but Shiba absolutely would; he would definitely teleport in to save the day (assuming the defensive barriers didn't get in his way). The only question would be how he was informed of what was happening.

Basically, I'm on the edge of my seat hoping nothing too horrible happens to Hakuri and whoever he's meant to draw to his side while bracing for heartache.

As for the bastards orchestrating all of this...

From breaking into the strongholds with trees to having hostages released, Hatshaku can fulfill all your second-man-hand needs.

I've gotta say this: I sincerely appreciate the writing of the villains in Kagurabachi. Hokazono-sensei shows a lot of restraint by having them not be cartoonishly evil like you might expect in a shounen manga. They took hostages to make people kill themselves and turn allies against each other: clearly evil. But they also let those hostages go once the pawns fulfill their tasks.

I was ready to roll my eyes and be all "yeah, they're super bad dudes, got it" if the Hishaku were shown to be killing the hostages after all. But they let them go! They have ethics, damnit. And it's really refreshing to see Hokazono keep them consistent as villains who are doing bad things but not without some internal logic. For the most part. Kuguri and Hiruhiko are definitely not going to get into heaven with how casually they kill innocent people, yeah. But the organisation as a whole is following a plan that doesn't encourage them all to be wanton killers, so the hostages go free.

It really helps the Hishaku feel serious about what they're doing. They've got these unhinged weirdos all gathered up for a goal that they care deeply about, so much so that they'll do the right thing even when they're doing wrong overall. Finally there's a criminal organisation in a shounen that I can actually be invested in!

So much to wait for... see you next week, kind void.

[raayllum]

Transcript of Aaron Ehasz Interview (Sept 2024)

Podcast link here. Transcript down below with bulk under a read more.

R: Alright so welcome back to the Wordswithdragons podcast, and today I’m joined by a very special guest, the co-creator of The Dragon Prince, Aaron Ehasz. 

A: Hello, thank you for having me today. Glad to be here.

R: Thank you so much for being here. Um, yeah, so, as we semi touched on, it is the 6 year anniversary of The Dragon Prince this September 14th.

A: Yeah.

R: Do you have any thoughts, reflections, feelings about the show having gone on for this long and being such a big part of people’s lives?

A: I mean for starters, it’s really hard to believe it’s been on for six years. Like that seems insane to me. Cause it seemed like we had — Justin and I had been working on it for so long before it finally came out because we had worked on the story and then gotten feedback, and help in improving that pitch and bringing it out and we had it set up at Netflix, and we had to — we wrote the pilot obviously, and we didn’t know where we were gonna produce it, and found Bardel. So there was so much time between even just starting to think about it and when it came out.

R: Yeah, cause that was like 2015, right?

A: Yeah, I guess we started the journey in 2015 and we got with Bardel by the end of 2016, and it got released evidently in 2018, so... Yeah, yeah, cause I remember even we were writing kind of the end of season 3 when we had that panel with Marco and named the character after Marco.

R: Oh yeah.

A: The character [chuckles] from the first episode, we only had an opportunity for him to say his name out loud in that last episode because we were writing the ending while we were showing the episodes for first time, so. Anyway, that’s my reflection, it’s great it’s been six years.

R: Yeah. I know The Dragon Prince has been a really like — both life changing and I think, like, life affirming experience for a lot of people, myself included. So we just really appreciate everybody’s hard work on the show and are very excited for season 7 and hopefully beyond as well. As well for any future projects that Wonderstorm comes out with, like Bonders sounds amazing.

A: I feel — well first of all, thank you for saying that it’s life affirming, that’s such a nice thing to hear about something you’ve worked on, but I also agree that Justin and I feel a ton of gratitude for the whole team and the work and heart that everyone put into making this. I think people wanted it to be meaningful and special and that takes a certain kind of energy and vulnerability to build something like that, that you share, and our whole team really did give that in building the show.

R: Yeah. I think for sure. I think that’s like, um, I was even — I was rewatching some of the show earlier for — for a parallel, and it was the scene between Avizandum and Zubeia when she goes to him in like her kind of corruption dream semi-nightmare, and obviously that’s such a heartfelt, touching scene, and it’s always so strange. Because on the one hand, you should hate Avizandum, he killed Sarai and Rex Igneous has rightful criticism of him, but then you watch that scene of him and he really did love his family, so I think the show being able to draw out those strong, conflicting emotions for so many of the characters is one of the reasons why it connects with people to the degree that it does.

A: And that’s one of the themes you probably see in the show — just gonna make a quick —

R: Yeah, yeah for sure. 

A: Avizandum, which is that being a good dad can make up for awful lot of [R laughs] monstrosities, as long as you’re doing it in the name of being a good dad. I’m joking, uh. Of course, yeah, Avizandum was always meant to be a complicated figure like many of our characters. 

R: You mentioned that you guys have been working on — I think season three during this panel with Marco, or Marcos, and I remember, I think you’ve said before that the seasons get worked on concurrently, that there’s a decent amount of overlap.

A: Yeah.

R: I’ve always wondered, because we know — obviously, I’m a big Rayllum fan — but I’ve always wondered, cause I know they weren’t originally planned, and then you guys were boarding season two when you were like, “Hey, maybe this should be a thing,” and then probably like shifted and tweaked things or changed things to write more towards that in the future... Um, I’ve always wondered, if there was time, like at that time, to go back and change anything in season one for them, or the season one that we see was just like that?

A: I don’t recall there was time to change season 1 — that does happen because we are working on things in parallel because we are working on something in the script and then some time later we are working on the later stage of production, like an animatic, and we’ll be able to kind of give notes or even make changes with the knowledge of what’s coming, so that has happened. But in the case of Rayllum, I don’t think so. I mean, I think — again, I remember...

R: It was a while ago, yeah.

A: We were rekindling, or when we were realizing that something was being kindled between them, it was watching an animatic so that shouldn’t have informed our writing of season one, but our later stage stuff. But we weren’t trying to force anything so it got in there naturally and I don’t think we went back and changed anything.

R: Yeah, that’s what I’ve always — they had those kind of vibes to me from like episode two and three, obviously season two brought a lot more people on board, but I was always curious. Cause in season one, like, I think, it feels so natural, it feels so organic, and like I’ve shown — one of the things I love about Dragon Prince is it’s a great way to connect with friends and family and you kind of catch up with each other like through the show, of “oh have you seen the new season yet?” and that sort of stuff. And so when I’ve shown the show to like my brother-in-law, who is not plugged in at all, he also kind of picked up on it in season one, so I’ve always been curious. 

A: You know, what else, I’ll even say, I think we initially, intentionally planned they weren’t going to be a couple. We were like “Oh yeah, no, they’re—”

R: Friends, yeah.

A: Friends, with different views of the world and they journey together, and we don’t want them to be a couple. We’re not — we’re definitely not targeting it. I think we were intentionally not targeting it, and then it was “too bad creators! [R laughs] We’re going to fall in love despite everything you’re planning.”

R: Well, that very much I think even fits what they represent to each other, of like you don’t have to do this path that you think you have to do...

A: Yeah.

R: You can be something new. I always kind of felt like Ezran and Zym were — felt very kind of like designed as foils, as like a pair, of like through Zym, Ezran learns more so like how to grow up, and they’re both like the princes who will be king, and then Callum and Rayla also kind of felt sort of like developed as a pair, in terms of like — he needs to gain more confidence, she’s pretty confident on the surface.

A: Yeah.

R: She needs to learn how to open up, he’s really good at being open especially in the beginning.

A: Right. 

R: So I was always like...

A: He needs to be murdered, she needs to learn how to murder someone.

R: Yeah! They complete each other, yeah. Uh... Some other questions that I had [rapid typing]. So I guess, maybe, I have some questions that are more season specific, in respect to time, but I also had like more general questions. 

A: Okay.

R: So, one of the things I’ve always love in general and really love about The Dragon Prince is its like use of philosophy and like its deeply interested in ethical and moral questions, and presenting some answers for some of them, but like are those the right answers? We don’t know. 

A: Right.

R: So I know King Harrow’s choosing of Lady Justice’s blindfold is a pretty apt comparison to John Rawls’ Veil of Ignorance—

A: Yes.

R: Of, you know, you strip away everything that you could have, like advantages, disadvantages, and think, would the system work for me? Which has been useful when I’ve like, had to tutor students in philosophy actually, but I was curious, were there any like philosophical concepts or ideas that people really, or you really, wanted to work into the series? ‘Cause we have a lot of trolley problems.

A: Right. Um, probably. I mean like, I should say, I was a philosophy concentrator in college so I absorbed a lot. Things like  Rawls, I had a class with John Rawls, and thought that was a really interesting concept and I liked including it, and I thought we can include it in a fun way, the idea of justice. So other philosophy probably makes its way in, it can makes its way in accidentally or subconsciously, so nothing specific right now comes to mind. I will say, as with kind of Avatar before this, I don’t like to have — I’m not trying to have a right answer, ever. I’m trying to have the characters have a deeper understanding of what they’re struggling with, and y’know, move in a direction of deeper understanding, so if anything, it’s more interesting to me to see conflicts between maybe philosophical approaches that are different and see how — Oh well, this has these kinds of results, and positives and negatives, and this has... so that the audience can have a chance to say, “Oh well okay, I have some thoughts on that,” or “here’s what I feel,” and that’s why sometimes I think we see the fandom actually kind of go back and forth—

R: Yeah.

A: On — around characters and people’s choices, and things like dark magic or Viren, which are controversial, are things where like, I do not have a strong point of view on... the kind of binary right or wrong of... Viren in the long term. He’s made a lot of wrong choices and he’s made a lot of choices for good. 

R: Yeah.

A: He is an arrogant and power hungry person and he’s also a caring and loving father and someone who wants to have a positive impact on the world, right, like?

R: Yeah.

A: So those conflicts play out in him. But similarly, I think with maybe most of the philosophical ideas I can think of, I’d rather get to like a place where everyone just has a chance to entertain those thoughts and ideas and struggle with them, or hold them in an authentic way, and then can come to their own conclusions and feelings. I mean, I have some deep feelings about like, the world, and how can people be optimistic or not pessimistic or—y’know, what it means to hold onto hope or what it means to try to move past conflict, and I have beliefs that there are conflicts that get so you know, kind of sewn in, that they feel they are impossible to untangle, and especially if the game you’re playing is who started it, or who did the worst thing, where you can’t just ever untangle it. You can’t ever find a right or wrong, so how do you get past that? That’s one of the questions I was hoping Rayla, Callum, and Ezran would try to—

R: Figure it out.

A: Struggle with. Anyway, I’m giving a very long winded answer—

R: No, no.

A: That’s the philosophy that comes to mind. If something comes to mind for you, you can bring it up and I can go, “Oh yeah, that was probably influenced by so-and-so.” [R laughs] Or maybe not.

R: Well, one of the things I loved about season six was kind of — you see, even... One of the things I thought was really interesting was we see, not quite like that return to trolley problems, but we see Aaravos at the end of season 5 is telling Viren you have to make the sacrifice so that you can live, and then we see Rayla tell Callum, “Hey, if the choice ever happens, you also have to sacrifice me,” for — so Callum can live, but also for like the greater good and that sort of stuff. And then you have Kpp’Ar, who — I love Kpp’Ar, I think he’s terrible and interesting and I love him.

A: Awesome. He is — we’ll learn a little more about him in the future, but yes.

R: And obviously when Viren’s like, “A child will die,” and this is a kid that Kpp’Ar would’ve known, and we see in The Puzzle House that he loved these kids, and whatever is up with the Staff is bad enough that Kpp’Ar’s like, “Okay. I’ll make that sacrifice.” Which feels very much in a way like he’s given up on dark magic, and to a certain degree he’s both given up on the mindset of dark magic, and maybe also hasn’t given it up in the same way. Like I love that — Claudia, you know, obviously, puts Viren above all else, is she always right to do so? Maybe not, but we get why she’s doing it, that’s a hard thing to say. And then we have Callum, who also seems inclined to put Rayla above all else, and because we like Rayla more, we’re like “Yeah, he can do that, it’s okay for him to do dark magic for her, that’s fine,” even if there’s also like, consequences. Cause most characters in the show, like you said, everybody kind of wants the same thing, they wanna have a positive impact on the world, they want to protect their loved ones, but what constitutes that world, what they think is a positive impact, or who they want — how they protect those people, that’s all very malleable and can fluctuate. Viren says “Claudia, you’re on the wrong path,” and we’re like yeah, he’s right, and Karim says the same thing about Janai, like the exact same thing, and we’re like, well he’s wrong.

A: Yeah. I mean a lot of things come to mind when you’re talking through that, but one is there’s often a conflict between rigidity and rules and some kind of compassion, or emotional decision, and those decisions are hard, right? Like I dunno, maybe Kpp’Ar should’ve said, “Okay just this once, it’s Soren,” or not, I don’t know. I mean obviously Kpp’Ar had taken himself to some deep horrible place and he really had, actually. And was like, “Okay, dark magic is just corruption when you start and keep going down this path, but this Viren’s kid so I don’t know.” One of the things here, I think there’s a relationship between — you know, sacrifice plays a role here. Sacrifice and thinking about generations and generational conflict and thinking you know maybe in a way I think is interesting. I think about the beginning of season 6 when Claudia has done all of this and sacrificed another life but also sacrifices some of her soul or whatever to save her dad and he’s like “No no! This is not the way! A parent is supposed to do this for a child but never the other way around,” right? And there’s something to that I find interesting which is — it’s almost the inverse of children having the opportunity to start anew and break cycles, parents potentially have the opportunity to make sacrifices that don’t pass by burdens onto their kids, but sort of like that’s the mirror I see a little bit, in terms of how do you have generational change and evolution? It’s somewhere in younger generations being able to not get stuck on conflicts and burdens, but also the older generations recognizing that they may have to be the one to take the — and this is I think a natural... I dunno, it’s something I think about a little bit and came to mind when you were talking. So we’ll see more about what is the meaning of sacrifice and when — when do you... trade? Yeah.

R: Yeah.

A: Side note on sacrifice. You’re familiar with Game of Thrones? You’ve watched all of Game of Thrones?

R: I’m decently familiar, yeah.

A: Okay.

R: And if not, I can have Kuno explain it to me later, so.

A: One of the things I love about the sacrifice Ned made, that we didn’t realize he’d made until I think the very end of the series, we realize — a sacrifice to his kind of reputation, right? And I’m talking about him representing Jon Snow as his bastard to protect him, right? Think about that, that’s a sacrifice, he had to go through the anger — he didn’t tell his wife the truth, he didn’t tell anyone, because it was the only way to protect the child, and as a result he lived with — even though the truth is that he was a really honest, good, or evidently he didn’t go cheat on his wife, he sacrificed that part of his reputation to protect Jon, at least how I see it. I think things like that are kind of interesting. I dunno.

R: Yeah. Yeah, I think it speaks to that idea of — one of the things I love about Dragon Prince is it’s so much about choices.

A: Yeah.

R: Like one of the things I really really liked about season 6 was that, you know, Callum is like, “Okay, I’m going to get myself purified, healed of dark magic,” and Rayla was his light, which was very validating, cause I had noticed in season two there was like some framing so I was like well “Maybe, maybe” you know? And then slowburn buildup but it was — I think that was a great moment that really paid off. And he’s told “if you ever do this again, it’ll corrupt you completely.” And whether he will or won’t — I personally think that he will, but spoilers, you know — but whether he will or won’t, I think it’s really nice because now whatever choice he makes, he’s making with the full context, of what this would do to him.

A: Yeah.

R: Whereas in season two, yes he was making his choice to do dark magic then, and I don’t necessarily think he would make a fundamentally different one if he had known what it would lead to, but there’s a different kind of awareness. Like I always of it would’ve been so easy to have Harrow not know that Viren was going to kill Zym, cause that’s such an easy way to kind of let Harrow off the hook of well Viren went off and did this on his own, and Harrow had no idea, and blah blah blah, right? Cause we like Harrow, he’s a — again, he’s a good dad, we’ll forgive a lot. And instead, it’s not his idea but he’s fully aware, he signs off on it. And I think constantly pushing characters to make hard choices — kind of like what Ezran says, “these aren’t dreams, these are choices.”

A: Yeah.

R: You can choose love, you can choose to make... It’s something that makes all the characters feel so fully developed and interesting, so I always appreciate that you guys push them to make the hard choice. 

A: Yeah. Cool. Thank you.

R: One question I did have is, uh, Karim is one of my favourite characters.

A: Okay. Unusual person. A lot of people hate — or love to hate...? I love him too. 

R: I also love Kasef, so I think I just kind of love everyone, because I’m like well, they’re really interesting. I feel like [Karim’s] arc was one of the things I loved most about season 4 because you can see him really wrestling with his choices and I love watching him fail, cause that’s kind of all he does, so that’s always fun. But I am really curious obviously now he’s been betrayed by Sol Regem, Katolis is in ashes and maybe they’ll blame Karim for that cause Sol Regem is like — dead, and now, presumably his only hope is going to be that his sister doesn’t execute him on the spot? 

A: Yeah.

R: So is there anything you can tease about Karim’s arc in season 7?

A: Yeah, so — so it’s not just Karim, there’s an army of people who betrayed Janai, and — and...

R: What do we do?

A: Yeah, what do we do? That will be something we’ll have to see them grapple with pretty much right away in the season. Especially cause [Karim’s army] showed up for this battle where they were never even — they were just planning to sweep up the ashes afterwards, so when they didn’t get the dragon support they needed, I suspect they lost really quickly. 

R: Yes, yeah.

A: So uh... Yeah, but basically as of the start of season 7 — all of them are prisoners of Queen Janai and the question is — what do you do with that? What do you do when you have an entire army and your own brother who betrayed you? And so that’s — we’ll find out.

R: Yeah. [Laughs] 

A: But yeah.

R: Yeah. Another question I had going forward was Terry and Claudia obviously I thought had a really beautiful relationship arc, particularly in season 6, and we saw in season 4 the lengths he’s willing to go to for her, and how Terry, I think, is a great example of how there’s a lot of character traits where we think “oh, if you’re a selfless, helpful, accepting person, you’re a good person,” and I feel like Dragon Prince does a really good job of how, Rayla’s selflessness can be great but it can also be kinda bad, or, um, Terry can be super accepting, maybe a little too—

A: Yeah.

R: —accepting sometimes, right? So I feel like at the end of season 6, it will presumably be him, Claudia, and Aaravos for a little bit now that he’s out of the prison. And it feels like maybe Terry might hit a breaking point?

A: Here’s what I will say — Terry is a really special character and if you watched him, he’s so good, and what we’ll find out is, he is — there is an episode called TRUE HEART and he is someone who has a true heart.

R: Oh that’s so sweet.

A: It’s very impossibly rare and special — but also we all understand what a true heart is in some way and we’ll learn a little more about that. But yeah, the question of what will Terry do, what can he do, is difficult because he has a very strong sense of right and wrong, but he has a very deep capacity for love and he loves Claudia with all of his heart. Where does that present an impossible conflict, it may... we’ll see a challenge.

R: Yeah. Yeah, for sure.

A: I’ll also throw in like I sometimes see some parallels between Terry and Uncle Iroh—

R: Yes.

A: Though Uncle Iroh I think has a very different journey. Iroh is kind of a recovered problematic person who now has some wisdom and enlightenment, so in terms of the difference between the purity of a true heart versus where Iroh is more of a later stage enlightenment, the love that they have for the kind of complicated person that they are with is similar to me. And the way that they both sometimes have to, or don’t have to but...

R: Choose to?

A: You have to give that person the space — you can’t force them to choose right or wrong, you can be there with them, you can try to guide them, you can — but ultimately you have to give them the space to fail, and eventually, you may have to turn your back on them. 

R: Yeah.

A: At some point. I don’t know. But um yeah — I still see them as connected characters in my mind. 

R: I think I can even see some of that with even the way Callum is with Rayla, like season five onwards, of like “I’ve hit my turning point, I’m not mad at you anymore, and you can steal my key, you can lie to me, and I’m not going to have you open up to me out of guilt or obligation, I want you to tell me what’s going on when you want to tell me what’s going on, and I’m going to give you the space for that.” So I think it speaks to that unconditional love that I think—

A: Yeah.

R: —a lot of the characters are blessed to have. But I do see the Terry Iroh connection. So another thing that I thought was really interesting was — obviously next season is dark magic, and I’m very hopeful that maybe we’ll learn more about the origins of dark magic or Elarion, even. 

A: Great.

R: Because I know when I was watching Sol Regem burn down Katolis, it made me think of what might’ve either happened or almost happened to Elarion in the past, you know? 

A: Yeah.

R: Even down to Ziard and Viren both die, kind of deflecting and trying to save people, with the same staff, you know, and how the cycle continues to just always repeat itself over and over again. And if there was like — yeah, cause burning down Katolis was a massive shakeup, you know?

A: Yup.

R: And what maybe the process was there, with the — Aaravos seems like he’s trying to repeat the cycle of like “Oh I’m going to take down the dragon monarchy or I’m gonna use that vacancy to my advantage, and mess with the Sunfire elves.”

A: He has a specific vendetta against Sol Regem, obviously, but it’s one where he has played it out in... What’s certainly meant to be implied, even though we’ll find out more later, is that one of the great mysteries of Sol Regem’s life is that his mate disappeared and he never found her. He’s the freaking Dragon King, and she disappeared. And though we don’t know how or what happened, while she was buried alive. He killed her. He didn’t even realize it, somehow. Somehow, Aaravos manipulated him into killing her, and he doesn’t — I dunno, I assume Sol Regem does understand when it must have happened, but that moment, it’s like an impossible — it’s meant to be just...

R: Awful.

A: He’s tortured him for 1000 years or whatever, without him knowing he was being tortured by Aaravos, and now he’s given him the mercy/cruelty of knowing the resolution to the mystery was that he killed her. And one of the things that worked well with that was that, we had sort of said Sol Regem can smell the truth from a lie, so he has the horrible curse of being able to know this is the deep dark truth. So I dunno, I think um, are we going to find out more about that? So, if we can eventually get the Book Three novel out [R laughs], we will find out more about that.

R: I did wonder, I was like “Maybe this is something that was gonna be in the book three novelization.”

A: Yes, we will find out more in the book three novel, it may be a year or so before unfortunately. And then I don’t think we’re gonna get too deep into that in season seven, that’s part of — it is involved in what we’re thinking about as the third arc, understanding and resolving the third arc, is gonna go a little deeper into...

R: Some of the history, yeah.

A: Some of the stuff that happened with Sol Regem. But yeah, no, I — it’s enjoyable to have these figures like Aaravos and Sol Regem who are ancient and operate over the course of centuries and are incredibly powerful, yet they can’t — or at least Aaravos,  they can’t conflict directly as easily, and so Aaravos has played this really complicated game. Anyway, but yes Sol Regem is part of that, but there’s — there’s more, there’s more people who — beings that took from him. He feels that Leola was unfairly punished and that that was — you know, he sees a future and he has something... All this time, a burning — it’s the twisted form of his love, in which he’s full of hate right now to the beings who brought this about. Obviously, Sol Regem played a role because he’s a rules dragon.

R: Yeah, yeah.

A: He is the one who betrayed her to the Cosmic Council ultimately — but how do you punish the Cosmic Council? That’s a bit more complicated.

R: Yeah. No, I remember finishing season six and just being so impressed with the story. Like, taking that direction, and almost doing a lot of recontextualization, because it’s one thing to have like your worldbuilding where “magic in the story works like this” and it’s just very kind of like hand of God, you know? Like oh — cause the magic system has always been unfair, that’s why we have Callum, you know? It’s another thing to say we’re going to have characters in the story who are responsible for it being unfair. And now we’re just going to have that in terms of conflict and themes of destiny. We have about seven, ten-ish minutes left I think.

A: Probably seven, if that’s okay?

R: Yeah. Of course. 

A: I’ll throw one other thing in there, which is that — cause characters experience things that change them: has Aaravos experienced — I’ll phrase it as a question, even though probably the answer is here, has Aaravos experienced much that has changed him in the last — since the death of Leola? I mean certainly some things, and is what’s happening now changing him in any way? Is it satisfaction, is it the relationship with Claudia, and what does that mean to someone? That’s a question that I think we’ll have to watch play out a little bit.

R: [Intrigued] Okay. Yeah. One thing that I really liked about Leola’s character was I felt like she had pieces of each of the main trio in her? Of this very helpful innocent well meaning child, kind of like Ezran — and I have also always seen Ezran as autistic as well cause I know that Leola canonically is — and then you also kind of have the whole oh she gave  / helped humans have primal magic, which obviously Callum has. And even just being this young elven girl punished for her compassion and mercy, that felt a lot like Rayla. And when making the choice for Leola to be Leola, was that something intentional or like the choice for it to be a child rather than another loved one?

A: It was very intentional that it was a child... And we talked through other versions of Leola that could’ve been, in other ages, genders, relationships with Aaravos that an important person was lost. Some of the things I liked about the way, Leola both as a child, children are the cycle breakers.

R: Yes, yeah. I think it was the strongest choice.

A: And in particular also, the idea of coding her autistic was a little bit like not as cued to kind of accept the social order and the order of things, but actually more open in a way to in what some people see as like — something that’s broken which is not taking those cues, something else about that — not being bound by it that allowed her to have compassion that crossed the line in terms of the perceptions of what the Cosmic Order needed to be in it — but it made her more, both as a child and an autistic person, to make that choice and do what she did that changed everything.

R: Makes a lot of sense.

A: [Her being a child] also frames it with some innocence obviously right? It’s not calculated, it’s kind. 

R: Yeah.

A: So I dunno.

R: Yeah. Yeah, I’ve been curious about how Ezran might be challenged now that Runaan is back in the picture.

A: That’s a great question. That’s a great question. I mean, it’s so weird, it’s like no one even asks that, it’s like “Cool,” Rayla’s like “I’m gonna go get him. Awesome! Runaan’s back.”

R: Yeah I’m like either — either Callum is like “Ezran will be totally fine with it,” and Ezran  is probably not going to be fine with it, or maybe Callum knew that maybe it wouldn’t be great, and kept it under wraps. Yeah, I’m so excited for that like trio, potential broyals conflict, so...

A: Well, I mean, Ezran is a very special kid and he’s very positive and kind and forgiving and all of this. But we’re talking about, Runaan is back.

R: Castle’s destroyed.

A: Katolis is rubble. Where does that leave him?

R: Yeah.

A: You know? I mean — so I’m excited about that part of Ezran.

R: I know the fandom is really, really excited for Ezran to get to be — not that he hasn’t always been complex, but to get to be like messier, of letting his emotions maybe get the better of him and that sort of thing. So people are definitely hype for that, for — cause I feel like season six really brought home a lot of things for Soren, and it seems like season seven is going to do a similar thing for Ezran, so that’s — that’s really exciting. Um, with our final couple minutes, I wanted to see — do you have any questions that you want fans to ponder or to be thinking about?

A: Um... Gosh. I don’t think I have anything specific that we haven’t talked about, but you know. On some level, like, you know how do you take the tragedies and conflicts that we all inevitably face repetitively and relentlessly and kind of learn to move forward in hope and optimism? I think that’s more of a question of like how do you personally learn to process — all the kind of bullshit in the world, and process it, and still move forward as a kind, connected—

R: Measured person.

A: —hopeful person? That’s a challenge we all face in our lives, so that’s like...

R: Yeah. Well, I think the show does a good — really good job at asking and challenging that — that question. Uh, yeah, I think — I think that’s our time for today, uh. Thank you so much, this was... 

A: It was my pleasure. 

R: This was a lot of fun.

A: It’s always my pleasure reading your theories and your—

R: [Gasps] Oh my gosh.

A: Honestly, I came on today and to tell the truth [R laughs] a little bit intimidated.

R: Oh my God. 

A: You’re so—

R: I also felt intimidated [laughing] so don’t worry.

A: You’re so insightful and articulate, that I almost am like [R laughs] what if they catch me that there’s something not as smart in the show as I thought it was?

R: Oh my gosh, no, you’re fine.

A: [Overlapping] So anyway, I really enjoy what you write—

R: [Overlapping] I’m also a writer so I know what it’s like to be like “I did this subconsciously,” it’s — yeah.

A: I love what you instigate in the fandom and the kind of conversations you support and engage in. I’m a huge fan of yours, so.

R: Oh! Thank you so much, that’s so sweet. Um. And I am a huge fan of yours.

A: Yay. That’s a great way to end a podcast.

R: That is a great way. Okay. Alright, well thank you so much, hope you have a great day, great week, uh, and — yeah. Okay.

A: Alright, and I’ll see you soon, we’ll do this again sometime, I hope. 

R: Yes! Yeah. Okay.

A: Alright. Thanks again. Alright, bye.

[ravennaortiz]

The Elevator Chronicles: Juices Story.

Summary: What happens when you get trapped on an elevator with your hot neighbor? As always 18+

You had just stepped into the elevator after a day of shopping when you heard a male voice call to hold it. Normally you would have ignored it but you had recognized the voice of your hot neighbor across the hall. Your heart raced as he jogged into view as you held the door. You had had a crush on him since you moved in almost a year ago. The two of you had gotten close and he had invited you to a couple of the parties his motorcycle club threw on Fridays.

“Thanks” he said as the door shut. Shooting you his signature smile as he leaned against the wall of the elevator.

Before you could respond the lights went off and the elevator jerked making you pitch forward into him. Your bags falling from your hands as you tried to steady yourself.

“You okay?” asked Juice as he easily caught you his arms hugging you close a bit longer than he needed.

“Yeah” you replied glad the lights were off to hide your embarrassment as you realized your hands were gripping the front of his shirt, effectively groping him before you stepped back. “What happened?” you inquired as your eyes started to adjust to the dark.

“I’m guessing this old elevator finally bit the dust” replied Juice with a chuckle as he stepped around you to push the buttons on the panel. The elevator sounds had been a running joke the last few months and it had begun to get slower it seemed. The whole building was wondering when it would finally go out as the landlord refused to look into it.

“Ughhh, please don’t tell me we are trapped” you replied as panic started to tickle your brain.

“Jeez, tell me how you really feel about your current company” teased Juice as he pushed the emergency call button.

“It’s not you. It’s me” you rushed giving yourself a smack to the forehead mentally for saying something so stupid.

“I know. I’m only teasing you” replied Juice as a dial tone filled the elevator. “I know you hate enclosed spaces. We will be fine though okay?��� he soothed as he grabbed your hand in the dark and squeezed gently.

“Think we might be here a bit” stated Juice after a few minutes of just the dial tone playing. “Might as well get comfy” he added as he slid down the wall to the floor. Gently pulling you with him. ”Hungry? I got tacos with chips and queso from that hole in the wall down the street.” He offered as he rummaged around for his bags.

You laughed as you scooted closer to him. “Yeah. I hate to take your dinner though”

“Don’t worry about it. You can just take me for dinner tomorrow” replied Juice as he divided up the food.

“You drive a hard bargain Juice. But deal I’ll take you to dinner if you let me ride on the bike” you replied as you took your food.

“Damn is it that easy to get a woman on your bike? Just offer her food while trapped on an elevator?” he teased making you laugh.

By the time you two had finished eating you were feeling more relaxed. A woman had come over the phone and stated it would be a few hours but that they were aware of them being trapped. So that had helped also.

You were leaning your head against Juices shoulder eyes closed when he spoke.

“So I got dinner. What did you get?” he asked as he nudged your bags with the toe of his boots.

Grabbing the bags you started pulling stuff out as you spoke. “Pair of heels, clothes, some lip balm and a-“ you started before stopping abruptly as the box of condoms came into sight. Your face heated as you tried to move on but Juice picked up on your nervousness.

“Ohhhh do we got something naughty in the bag?” he teased as he pretended to grab the bag. Laughing as you smacked his hand away.

“What is it?” he continued as you two wrestled around on the floor as he tickled your sides.

“Okay okay” you conceded as you laughed and held the bag to him.

“Oh what luck these are my size” he said with a straight face as he shook the box of condoms in the air and winked at you.

You rolled your eyes as you began to put your stuff back in the bags.

“So tell me about him” stated Juice as he leaned back against the wall watching you.

“About who?” you asked frowning as you looked at him

“Your guy that you got the condoms for” replied Juice with a laugh.

“Oh…im not dating anyone…..its just in case….when out….ya know?” you muttered as you moved to grab the box from him. Looking up at him when his grip didn’t loosen.

“I see…. Maybe you want dessert then?” inquired Juice quietly as he pulled the box from you and opened it. “Cause I could do dessert” he added as he pulled a condom out.

“Dessert would be great” you replied as you nodded.

A few minutes later you were both naked. Hands and mouths roaming each others bodies as you straddled his lap. Bouncing on his thick cock. Moaning and groaning as he sucked and nipped at your nipples. His fingers gripping your ass, occasionally delivering a firm smack that had you crying his name out.

“Wanted to do this for so long” he groaned as he pulled from your chest and nipped up your neck before latching onto your mouth. Swallowing your moans down his throat as he started to thrust up into you. He grunted as your body clamped down around him as you came, nails digging into his shoulders. His thrusts became erratic before finally slamming into you one more time as he came.

Just as you were catching your breaths the elevator started moving and lights came on. You both scrambled to get clothes on but not before Juice spoke.

“Don’t put too much on. I’m going to need a bit more not quite full” he stated as he grabbed your panties and tucked them in his kutte.

[raffe156]

Room for one more

Pairing - Price x OC Tank (F!reader)

Summery - Testing the limits of a one man tent…

A/N- little Drabble based on those single tents @atomiccrownpoetry mentioned, I’m sorry it took so long! Though I’ve tagged it as Tank an I read it as Tank and some of you will do the same, I don’t mention her by name so can be read as Price x F!reader 😌

Warnings - Smut (18+) Voyeurism kind of , Language, Age gap Price (38) Tank (26) unsafe sex, p in v

✨As always comments and feedback welcome ✨

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Call of duty characters - Only Tank

“You should get your head down kid, you look shattered” Price rubbed your back, he towered over you his hand lingered between your shoulder blades.

He was right it had been a long day of recon and you weren’t about to get into another argument with Soap over who ate the last digestive biscuit.

It was you but you weren’t about to admit that. Tonight was the last night of a 3 day stay in the desert and you were ready to go home.

“Yeh you’re right” You stood up stretching your back.

“Listen, one more night of this and I promise you fresh sheets and a real pillow.” Price squeezed the back of your neck a smile on his face. Everyone cheered at the idea of getting their heads down in a proper bed, but you knew he didn’t mean the beds back at the base. The thought caused a stir in your stomach and it was enough to get you through the next few hours.

You said your good nights and walked back to your single tent with Farah in tow.

You chit chatted as you both stripped down to your under layers outside your tents. Even though the temperature dropped at night, inside the tent was insulated and the last few nights had been so warm you had slept with just the mesh panel.

“Was it you that ate the last of those biscuits Soap loves so much?” Farah laughed as she turned you around to braid your hair just like she had done the last few nights. You gave her a knowing smirk as you handed her the comb. She laughed shaking her head.

“Sooo you and Alex eh?”

Farah didn’t need to see your face she could hear the grin as clear as your words.

“Asimat!” She tugged the braid playfully. You held your head laughing.

“OK OK ‘ana asf!” You pleaded.

“Never mind that, what about you and the Captain eh? Ya ‘iilahi, I see the way he looks at you, like a starving man looks at a meal…”

“Farah! Asimat!” You could feel your face flushing.

She tied a bobble around the braid a cocky look on her face. You both eyed each other, before bursting out laughing the sound echoed across the campsite and off into the distance.

For a few minutes the two of you weren’t soldiers in the night, but just two girls braiding each others hair and laughing about boys at a sleepover.

***********

You lay in your tent listening to the sounds of the desert, the distance chirps and hoots.

Just as your mind was finally drifting off you felt the air shift, turning your head slowly you watched the zip of the tent door curl down to reveal the pitch black night, the warm breeze blowing in as a dark silhouette moved closer inside. You knew instantly who it was the air bringing in the smell of dampened fire and cigar smoke.

You blinked a few times trying to make out where the nighttime visitors face was.

“You awake kid?”

“Yeh…I’am now”

“Mind if I join you?”

“Don’t think you’ll fit”

“I will…move over”

“Move over where? It’s a 1 man tent”

“Good thing I’m just 1 man then eh?”

“….”

“Just move over” a growl more than a whisper now.

“Someone’s gonna see you, I thought you said we have to wait till we get back home? You fully lectured me about it?”

“I know what I said…just move over”

You did as you were told, moving on to your side allowing your Captain to slide in next to you. It was a tight fit as he zipped the panel shut behind him, you could feel the air trapped inside get heavy.

“Come ere” Price pulled you into him, you threw your leg over his waist.

“Oh I’ve missed this…can’t wait to get back to mine, don’t plan on letting you leave the bed let alone the bedroom” He let out a little chuckle as he kissed the top of your head.

“I know it’s not the same….but I’ve wanted to be close with you like this since we arrived Kid, it’s been driving me insane…”

“I’m more than happy with this, I’ve missed you too Boss”

You stretched your body out over his, your hands finding their place to settle.

He was in his joggers and a T-shirt, he must of walked the distance from his tent to yours in his socks you could feel the tiny grains of sand against your legs. You tried to pull them off his feet with your own.

“What are you doing? You’re not taking another pair of my socks!”

“No you’ve got sand on them, take them off”

You felt a little rumble of a laugh come from his chest.

“If you want me to take my kit off all you have to do is ask love”

“Shut up! You’ve got sand all in my sleeping bag take them off now!”

“Oh using your big girl voice are we? Hmm I like it” He pulled you on top of him your body sliding over him with ease, legs either side. You tried to sit up but your back was pressed back down by the roof of the tent.

“John what the…”

He cut you off his hands pulling you down into him, his mouth finding yours in the dark. His kiss was hungry and needy, it had been a few days since he’d been able to show any real affection towards you. You had made do with the odd pat on the shoulder, his hand lingering a minute longer than needed, standing just that little bit closer during briefs, his legs looped with yours in the back of cramped vans and trucks.

You allowed him to devour you in the darkness.

Lifting your hips slightly Price pushed his joggers down just enough to pull his cock out and rest it on your underwear. You instinctively rolled your hips back into him feeling the sturdiness of his erection as it pushed against you.

You felt his hand pull roughly at your underwear, he wanted them off but knew there wasn’t the room or the time so pulled to the side would have to do. His fingers brushed against your folds as he pull the fabric away. Without needing to be told you eased the tip of him inside you savouring the feeling as you pushed through, you could hear the little grunts of frustration and swore there was a whimper or two as you sank yourself down taking him down to the base. It was a snug fit.

“Fuckin ell” he whispered as you slowing rocked your hips back and forth your chest pressed to his. A pathetic whine left your own body. You desperately wanted to sit up, wanted to feel his hands roam up your body, to cup your breasts, you wanted to see his face, see the same desperation in his eyes, to watch as his teeth clenched and gritted together as you rode him, but there was no room for fancy moves or position changes, this was it packed in tight, close quarters.

You tucked yourself in under his chin your head slightly tilted, Price held you close to him as you slowly picked up the pace, his other hand firmly on your backside rocking you back and forth grinding your clit on his pubic bone.

The thought of being heard or even caught made you want to be that little bit louder, just a few feet away your entire squad slept it made your system flood with adrenaline.

As if he had read your mind, Price gripped your backside tighter. You let out a moan.

“Need you to stay quiet love, can’t have you waking the whole camp up now can we…what would they say if they caught us like this eh? I promise you can be as loud as you want when we get back home…” he mumbled as he pressed his lips to your forehead.

You couldn’t take it, you pushed yourself up rolling your hips faster and faster. The roof of the tent rubbing against your back.

The air inside the tent was heavy and damp with condensation, but you didn’t care your bodies were buzzing, you could feel it right there building inside of you both. Each craving for this closeness, this connection for days.

Price placed his hand on the side of your neck. He was close, but you were closer and he knew it your body gave you away.

“That’s it….cum for me love…aww…good girl…that’s its…” he gripped your neck that bit tighter your moans came out ragged and broken from trying to stay quiet, but even though you were coming undone you couldn’t stop your hips from rocking back and forth your body wanted more your insides pulsed and fluttered around him, begging to come again.

Price couldn’t hold out any longer and began desperately bucking his hips up into you, cursing between gritted teeth with each thrust. The sticky wet noises filling the tent, someone would definitely be able to hear, the rush of being caught surged through your body again making your hips match the speed of Price’s thrusts. This caused you both to fall apart very quickly. You buried your head in his neck to stifle your cries.

“Fuckkkkkk…” Prices groaned as he came inside you, his thrusts slowing as he became more sensitive.

You both lay there trying to catch your breath, your bodies pulsing as your heartbeats tried to regulate. Once the blood had stopped rushing in your ears you tried to listen for any movement outside the tent, hushed voices or footsteps, but all you could hear were the distant hoots and howls of the night.

“Think we’re good…” Price kissed your temple as he slowly unzipped one of the panels to let some air in.

*************

You woke up at 6:00 alone having no idea when Price had left you, but you felt his socks at the bottom of sleeping bag pulling them on you sorted yourself out and grabbed your toiletries bag, the makeshift showers weren’t too bad and you definitely needed one.

As you unzipped your tent you were met with the familiar sleepy faces of your squad. Soap half hanging out of his tent with a brew talking to Gaz, his Mohawk fluffy and sticking out in all directions. The pair of them clocked you and grinned. Your heart sunk. They had heard you last night, but before you could speak or plead your case Ghost and Price walked over to the huddle of tents.

“Morning kid…want a swig of this?” He handed you his cup of coffee you took it looking him dead in the eye.

“Can we have a word…in private?” You whispered. His face changed a serious look on his face. He nodded guiding you away from the others.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? I think Gaz and Soap heard us last night they were talking this morning and gave me this look…I don’t know but they know something” you held the cup of coffee tight.

Price smiled resting his hand on your shoulder he leant forward so he was eye level with you. You wanted to slap the beard right of his face.

“We weren’t the only ones at it last night kid, have you noticed anyone missing this morning?”

A wave of relief washed over you, thank god!

“So if it’s not us they heard who was it?….” It only took a spilt second to realise who was missing.

“oh my god….Farah and Alex!” You spilt half the coffee onto Prices boots as you whipped round to look back at the camp.

“Correct…and Soap said they were pretty loud so even if we had been heard everyone thinks it’s them” Price chuckled as he took back his coffee.

Just as you turned back to Price you heard cheering and whistles, Alex had crawled out of Farah’s tent, bed headed and shirtless a weak smile on his face. Soap slapped him on the back offering him a coffee, close behind Farah appeared looking more triumphant than anything as she light up a cigarette. She waved at you and the Captain.

“She’s ballsy that one” you smiled back at her as Price lifted his coffee mug up at her in salute.

***********

A few days later you get a text from Gaz