#she lost like 20 pounds

[domibomz]

i'm having a breakdown in my sketchbook fr fr fr

[pochapal]

in the Horrors bonanza year that has been 2024 nobody expected the oldest and dearest Horrors of all (covid horrors) to make a third act comeback

[identityquest]

me n milk ^_^

[the-sunflower-room]

scared half to death

🌪️tyler owens x fem!reader 

☆ genre: angst, fluff, friends to lovers

☆ wc: 2.7k

☆ summary: tyler owens is not easily angered, but when the love of his life runs into an incoming tornado without a second thought, his emotions get the better of him.

☆ warnings: a very upset tyler, yelling, language

note: so i watched twisters and it was actually everything to me! the brainrot is bad and i’ve been wanting to write for tyler ever since i saw it, so here it is! this is very much the idiots in love trope because it’s one of my favorites. enjoy! :)

“Where is she?”

Tyler isn’t sure if he’s ever felt this angry before. He considers himself a fairly easy going man, always quick to make light of a situation and put everyone in the room at ease with his charming, joking nature.

But this was different. This had his heart pounding, his ears ringing. His face is flushed red and he feels like he can hardly breathe.

All because of her.

He slams the door of his truck, approaching his crew in the gas station parking lot with a look on his face that’s so completely un-Tyler that it makes them all shift uneasily.

“Where’s…who?” Boone tries weakly, unsuccessful in his attempt to play dumb. Lily rolls her eyes and elbows him in the ribs, shooting him a glare.

Tyler clenches his jaw, for once not in the mood for his friends’ antics. “You know damn well who I’m talking about.”

They all exchange glances, his uncharacteristic demeanor both surprising and concerning. This isn’t the calm, charismatic frontman of the Tornado Wranglers they’re used to.

“She’s in the RV, but I don’t think-” Dani begins, but he’s already beelining for the camper before they can finish. He can hear his heartbeat pulsing in his ears as he nearly bursts through the door, finding her sitting at the small table in the back with her head in her hands.

Her gaze snaps up at the sound of his entrance into the RV, and her face immediately drops when she sees him practically fuming. “Tyler-” she says urgently, instantly on her feet as he approaches as if she’s about to defend herself. But he isn’t having any of it.

“You wanna tell me what the hell you were thinking out there?” He seethes, suddenly towering over her with his jaw clenched and hands on his hips. She swallows thickly, nervous around this version of him. Terrified to have upset him, disappointed him.

“Tyler, I promise, I was just trying to do the right thing-” she starts again, her tone practically pleading, but he just scoffs. 

“The right thing?” He questions in disbelief, cutting her off with a shake of his head. “You call nearly getting yourself killed in the field ‘doing the right thing’?”

She squeezes her eyes shut at the reminder of what she’d done, at the venom in his voice that’s ordinarily so gentle when directed at her. Memories of what had transpired nearly 20 minutes ago flood her mind and she feels a lump forming in her throat.

“I couldn’t let our data get lost,” she whispers weakly, her gaze glued to the floor in shame. “Bullshit,” he mutters, jaw clenched as his breath picks up. His eyes search her face, grasping to understand why the hell she had risked her life the way she had.

“You don’t run into the path of an incoming EF3 to recover some stupid equipment for our disruption research,” he practically spits, his voice growing louder, more emotional.

“That equipment is completely replaceable. You sure as hell aren’t. So I want to know why on god’s green earth you thought it was a good idea to run headfirst into danger like that.”

Her breath hitches, her eyes welling up with unshed tears at the reminder of her brashness. She feels ashamed and almost embarrassed as Tyler practically berates her.

They were best friends, a pair that the rest of the team liked to call the “dynamic duo.” With a shared passion for tornadoes and a taste for danger, they had instantly clicked from the moment they met during a chase a few years ago, becoming inseparable. Which is why Tyler’s harsh reminder of her stupidity stung so painfully.

She wasn’t used to hearing him so upset, so emotional in the worst way. With her, his tone was always soft, teasing, sometimes so overtly flirty that it would leave her heart pounding and her cheeks flushed.

But this was different. Now his gaze was harsh, curses unnaturally tumbling from his lips as she struggled to explain herself. And she hated every moment of his scrutinizing stare.

“You’ve worked so hard on putting together the equipment for the disruption research. I didn’t want you to have to start from scratch…not after all the effort you went through,” she explains pathetically, her voice cracking slightly as her emotions begin to shine through.

Tyler shakes his head, stepping even closer into her space. “And you thought it was worth risking your life for?” He grits out, his furrowed brow and downturned lips looking so unnatural on his normally smiling face.

Another shuddering breath escapes her as she catches herself from revealing the true reason she’d been so careless, from baring her soul and telling him that she’d run into the path of an incoming tornado because she loved him more than anything. That the thought of his disappointed face, his devastation over months of work lost to an unpredictably large tornado, hurt her so much that she would have done anything to save that equipment.

Anything to make him happy, to be the hero that he was to her.

“I- I didn’t get hurt, I knew I had time to get at least some of it-” she stammers, but she can’t get the words out.

“You didn’t have time!” He practically yells, gripping her shoulders and giving her a gentle shake. His eyes are wide, his gaze burning as he stares down at her.

“If Boone hadn’t been close by with his truck, you could’ve easily not made it. You could’ve died,” he chokes out, his grip on her tightening. His eyes are watering now, his anger fizzling out into something more desperate, more panicked.

Tyler still remembers the pure, unadulterated fear he’d felt as she slipped out of the safety of his truck before he could stop her, sprinting out into the open field where the winds and torrential rain were getting worse by the second.

He remembers the devastated scream of her name that had ripped itself from his chest, lost to the howling winds.

He sure as hell can’t forget the feeling of overwhelming fear and helplessness that overtook him when the rain became so intense that he could not longer see her, no longer assure himself that she hadn’t been sucked up into the raging funnel or hurt by the flying debris.

It was only when he got radio confirmation from Boone five minutes later, stating that she was safe in their truck with some of the equipment intact, that he even knew she was alive.

It had been the most hopeless, terrifying five minutes of his life.

“Don’t you understand what you mean to everyone? What you mean to me?” He rasps, his voice quieter now, more broken. “Some stupid equipment for an experiment isn’t worth your life, Y/N. Not in the least.”

His eyes are tender now as they rake over her face, scanning the scrapes and cuts littering her cheeks, the patch of dried blood clinging to her temple. His heart aches at the thought of her getting hurt, even if the injuries are small.

She notices that nearly all of his anger has left his body, replaced by the emotion that had truly been brewing beneath the surface: crippling fear at the possibility of losing her.

A silent tear runs down her face at his softer, more vulnerable words, her heart breaking as she realizes the effect her thoughtless actions have had on the man she loves. He’s quick to gently wipe it away with the pad of his thumb, his touch lingering on her cheek as he gazes at her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice breaking as she chokes back a sob. In an instant, he’s enveloping her in his tight, comforting hold, cradling her head to his chest and pulling her so close to him that their bodies are practically molded together.

“Shhh…it’s alright, sweetheart,” he gently hushes, his hand stroking through her hair as she cries softly against him. He’s back to himself now, all anger and frustration long abandoned in favor of his naturally calm, caring demeanor. Through her tears, she feels herself flushing slightly at his term of endearment.

“I’m the sorry one. I shouldn’t have yelled at ya, you didn’t deserve it,” he murmurs into her ear, his arms tightening around her.

He internally berates himself for defaulting to anger when she had also probably been scared and upset. But thinking she had died in that tornado just for attempting to recover his equipment had struck something so deep within him that his brain had reacted irrationally.

He stews in his remorse for a moment longer before admitting a truth that might be a little too vulnerable, a little too revealing of his deep and unwavering love for her, but he has to get it off his chest.

“…You just scared me half to death, darlin’. I can’t lose you...I can’t. It would tear me apart worse than a damn tornado ever could.” His whispered words are so raw and tinged with devastation that her breath hitches against his chest.

Slowly, she peels herself away from his comforting embrace to get a good look at him, and what she finds makes her heart clench in her chest. 

His eyes are red and glassy, obvious signs that he’d been crying. His muscles are taught with anxiety, like every fiber in his body had been tense ever since she fled his truck. His hair is slightly tousled and she instantly knows he’d been running his hand through it the way he does when he’s stressed.

The thought that she could cause him this much worry, this much pain, sucks the breath from her lungs and makes her feel dizzy.

“I only tried to save the equipment because I knew how important the research was to you,” she whispers, her voice still shaky but full of sincerity.

“I know how much it means to you, finding a way to keep these tornadoes from causing so much damage to innocent lives. I just- I wanted to do something brave and selfless for you, the way you always have for me,” she admits softly, swallowing as she meets his gaze.

His lips part slightly at her admission, the reverence in her words staggering. Hearing that she cares for him, finds him brave and selfless, wants to return the way he makes her feel, fills his heart with a love so deep he feels like he’s drowning in it.

“Y/N, you’re-” he rasps, pausing to clear his throat when he hears how raw and weak his voice sounds.

“You’re so damn sweet. Your heart is so big. That’s what I love about you. But please, don’t be as stupid as me. I throw myself headfirst into danger so much because I don’t think first…my judgement gets clouded by the thought of helping someone and I get tunnel vision. Which has put me in one too many potentially life-ending scenarios,” he murmurs, his hands squeezing her slightly as they rest on her shoulders.

“I can’t- I won’t let you be that careless. You mean too much to me.”

Her eyes widen at the tenderness in his voice, the affection and worry dripping from every word. It feels like their conversation is breaching on something deeper, something much more vulnerable and terrifying.

Her mind is hung up on his soft that’s what I love about you. Even hearing the word love directed at her from the mouth of Tyler Owens makes her head spin and her face heat up, and she’s unsure if she’s even breathing anymore.

“Tyler…” she manages, her voice threatening to break with the overwhelming swirl of emotions running through her. She can’t help herself, knows that she’s finally going to put it out there, tell him how she feels no matter how scary it might be.

“I love-” his lips are on hers before she can even finish. The sensation of Tyler kissing her is unlike anything she’s ever felt, and she’s damn sure she never wants him to stop.

His large hand tenderly cups her cheek while the other snakes into her hair, tangling his fingers through the strands as he pulls her even closer. She gasps softly as his grip tightens, his lips moving against her own with an almost feral desperation.

The salt from her tears mixes with his sweet taste – something like honey and peppermint – and she melts further into him and his warmth. She can feel him pour every ounce of his turbulent, pent-up emotions into the kiss, and it leaves her completely breathless.

He’s waited for this moment for so long, and after thinking he’d lost her today, he’d be content to just kiss her like this for the rest of time. Reassuring himself that’s she’s still there, that she’s his. Showing her what she means to him.

Finally getting a grip on his emotions, Tyler pulls away for a moment, wanting to make sure he hasn’t misread the signs, misinterpreted what he’d felt brewing between them for so long.

But a wide, disbelieving grin spreads across her face as she fights to catch her breath, and he suddenly has no doubt that she’s been his all along.

“I’ve been waiting for that for- well, I don’t even know how long,” she laughs breathlessly, slightly woozy from his intoxicating taste.

He huffs a laugh in return, his eyes shining with an overwhelming adoration for the woman before him. “Yeah…I think Boone might owe Dexter and Lily some money,” he jokes softly, his thumb gently brushing her rain-soaked hair away from her face.

His eyes roam over her, taking in every inch of her muddy clothes, her scraped up hands, the shallow cut on her temple. Regret courses through him at the way he’d raised his voice at her, even if it had been out of fear of losing her.

“Are you sure you weren’t hurt?” He murmurs, his voice lower and more serious than before. She gently nods, her hand moving to rest on top of his own as it cups her face.

“I’m ok, promise. It’s just a little scrape from slipping in the mud,” she reassures him, sensing his lingering gaze on her slightly bloodied face. She can practically feel the apprehension in his stare, his constant worry for her well-being so endearing that she just wants to kiss him again and again.

“I promise, Ty. And I swear, I won’t do anything like that again. I just got lost in the moment and didn’t think before acting.” He nods slowly, letting the sincerity in her voice wash over her and comfort his racing mind. 

“You’d better not,” he teases softly, a ghost of a smile pulling at his lips. “If we’re doing this thing, no more running headfirst into tornadoes, you hear? Can’t have my girl acting like an irrational daredevil like me. I’ve been told she’s smarter than that.”

She feels herself blushing as he calls her his girl, the title rolling off his tongue so naturally that it makes her heart skip a beat. Tyler watches as a hearty laugh escapes her and she leans into his touch, his own smile growing wider.

Suddenly nothing else has ever mattered beyond this moment of her in his arms, blushing and laughing like he’s the funniest damn man in the world.

“Ok, alright,” she giggles with feigned exasperation. “No more running into tornado paths, I swear. Wrangler’s honor. But you have to swear it too. You’re an adrenaline junkie and a trouble maker, even more than I am.”

He chuckles at her playful jab, his body feeling lighter than it has all day as he finally lets the tension within him fade. She’s safe, he tells himself over and over. She’s alive, she’s teasing him like she always does, and she’s got him smiling like a damn fool.

“Baby,” he mutters with that teasing glint in his eye, “you need to get my head checked if I ever run away from you and into a tornado. No man in his right mind would leave a gorgeous thing like you for some wind.”

Before she can reply to his ridiculous comment, he captures her lips once more with his own, relishing in the way she smiles against him as he pulls her closer.

This is all Tyler’s ever wanted - all he’s ever needed. Just her, safe and sound, loving him in all his flaws and worry for her.

If her running into that damn field led to this moment, this reality where she’s finally his, then so be it. He’s never been more grateful for a tornado.

[suncoved]

BIG MAN ON CAMPUS! — RAFE CAMERON

pairing; fratboy!rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary; you come to your first college party and have the worst panic attack of your life. who knew your knight in shining armour would be the captain of the biggest fraternity and the biggest fuck boy on campus

warnings ; panic attacks, anxiety, drugging, angst but like fluff!!

"Liv, i'm really not sure about this"

You're best friend and roommate looked at you with a blank stare, watching as you pulled the tight white dress down that had ridden up your thighs. She had dragged you out of your dorm only 20 minutes ago, telling you that if you didn't come she was going to wake you up with a bucket of ice water.

"Cmon babe, you made me promise i would drag you to at least one party this year. and i don't break a promise. Which also means that i promise if you don't like the first 30 minutes, then we can go home and eat 30 pounds of ice cream and pass out in our makeup"

You smiled at her, trying to push yourself through whatever anxiety was coursing through you. Liv was really a good friend, even if she was harsh about it at times, you know that she wanted the best for you.

The smell of booze and sweat hit your nose immediately as you walked into the frat house, the music blasting and the rainbow lights blinding against the otherwise dark space.

Liv pulled you to the corner of the living room, smiling brightly at you and giving you an extra tight hug. "Ok! I'm gonna go get us some drinks, stay right there and don't move!"

She had to yell because of how loud the music was, wasting no time before disappearing into the kitchen.

You stood in the party like a fish out of water, biting your lip as you looked down at your feet.

You'd like to say that you weren't that much of an introvert. I mean sure you liked to be curled up with a good book from time to time, and you were studying a bit more than healthy. But you like to go out and shop with friends, talk to new people in your classes and slumber parties on the weekends.

But parties were something you did not do. It had a combination of all the things you disliked most in life. loud music, people yelling, drinking, flashing bright lights and... frat boys.

You'd already been brought out of your shell at college, you were confident enough now to present in classes and partner up with new people on assignments, but this was pushing it.

You were a sweet girl, but naive. You didn't have enough experience with greedy men and even you would admit that you resembled a lost deer more often than you would like.

You lifted your head as you heard someone approach you, looking up quickly as you assumed it was Liv coming back from the kitchen.

But it wasn't Liv.

A brunette looked straight at you as you made eye contact with him, a red solo cup resting in his hand.

"What's a pretty girl like you standing here all alone in the corner" he stated, inching closer to you as you subconsciously stepped back a bit. "I'm Jeremey"

He reached out his hand to you to shake, only to receive a dumbfounded look on your face.

"Normally people reply back with their name, Babe"

"Oh! Sorry!" you replied flustered, repeating back your name as he grinned wide, showing his bright smile.

You didn't want to admit that when Jeremy was talking to you, you continually kept glancing over at the entrance to the kitchen, hoping that the next person to walk out was Liv, who was going to hopefully come to save you from this conversation.

"Hey, I was experimenting in the kitchen, wanna try my new concoction." Jeremy dangled the red solo cup in your face, the liquid pink and smelling of strawberries.

"No thank you. I don't drink" you replied sweetly, hoping to be polite and not upset him. "There's barely any in it, promise. Pleaseee, don't wanna hurt my feelings, do you?" He replied in annoyance.

A pang of hurt shot through you as you panicked, how could you have been so rude! Jeremy was taking time out of his day to talk to you and you rejected a drink he made you?

"Oh! no, I'm sorry. Thank you so much" you replied, taking the cup out of his hands and looking down at the liquid. He watched closely as you took a sip, your face twisting at the strong flavour of vodka.

"What do you think?" he smirked as he asked, bringing his hand up to your lips and wiping the extra liquid off with his thumb.

"Its- its great, thank you" you replied, your heart beating faster as you started to feel increasingly more uncomfortable. He watched you closely as he hinted to you to drink more, looking down at you like he was a wolf, and you were his prey.

You held back tears as you felt the room start to spin under your feet, your cheeks feeling hot and your hands shaking involuntarily. It hit you quickly that this wasn't alcohol that was making you feel like this, no, it was something else. Something much, much worse.

And you didn't want to stick around to figure out what it was.

"Um, sorry Jeremy, I need to go to the bathroom" you spoke up, using all your courage to push through the crowd quickly as he followed.

Your breath was now speeding up as you fought your way through the waves of people, your steps becoming faster as you felt the room spinning more and more, tears streaming down your face.

You didn't know where the bathrooms in this place were, but you didn't have time to think about that now.

You just needed to find Liv, or someone, anyone.

Your eyes fell on a room at the end of the hall, light spilling out of the crack where the door failed to meet the floor.

You didn't have time to think, just to act. Your balled fist made it up to the door, knocking over and over again as you looked behind you, Jeremy in the crowd but looking all over for what you assumed to be you.

You didn't even want to begin to imagine how stupid you looked, or how impolite you were being as your knocks became harsher and frantic as Jeremy came closer.

"Jesus, learn how to wait your fucking turn" a voice sounded as the door opened. you didn't even look away from Jeremy as you tumbled into the bathroom, accidentally bringing the person in the door with you.

"Yo, what the fuc-" the aggressive voice came to a halt quickly, but you all you could focus on was your breathing, which was out of control.

Your cheeks were wet with tears as you closed your eyes, bringing your hands up to your face and letting yourself sob. "I- I can't breathe" You let out, unknowing if you were talking to yourself or the person in the space with you.

You couldn't even handle your anxiety and emotions when you were in control of your body, let alone now.

That's the main reason you don't drink, because you tend to freak out to the point of no return, and this, this was much worse.

Your face was buried in your hands as the person softly closed the door to the bathroom. You didn't even register him softly moving you to sit on the toilet seat in the bathroom, kneeling down and removing your hands from your face.

You opened your eyes to see a man's face looking back at you, his features painted with worry and his body distanced enough away from you as to not upset you even more.

"Hey- hey. Its ok, what's wrong?" the boy asked, trying not to show how confused he was on how to deal with this situation. "Are you hurt?"

You shook your head quickly at his statement, your tears slowly coming to a halt as your vision became less blurry. You could now see his face more clearly. Fluffy dirty blonde hair, bright blue eyes, soft pink lips.

"Uh, um. Wait" He spoke, breaking eye contact with you for the first time since you entered the bathroom. He started frantically opening draws and cabinets, stopping when he found a box of tissues under the sink.

"Here" you looked between him and the box he was handing you before taking it in your hands, your fingers brushing past each other momentarily.

"Thank you, i-i promise I'm not this much of a mess all the time." You replied, earning a soft smile from the man. "It's ok, it happens to the best of us. Have you taken anything, or just drunk?" He asked delicately.

Rafe didn't understand what he was feeling at this moment. Because he'd never felt it before.

Sure he could be an asshole sometimes, He was rude and got into fights on occasion, and he had been known to make girls complete the walk of shame out of his room involuntarily after a big night out, but that didn't mean he would ever leave a clearly intoxicated girl alone at a frat party.

But this, this was different. He had to know what was wrong with you, and he had to fix it. Sure you were a mystery to him and only met you seconds ago, but he wasn't leaving until he knew you were safe and sound... and had given him your name.

"I don't drink- or, at least I didn't. This boy gave me something, it tasted weird. Then I got all dizzy and now- now I can't stop crying" You rambled, sighing softly and looking into his eyes.

He gazed back at you, running his tongue around his teeth before seemingly snapping out of the trance he was in. "Did you know the guy?" He huffed, obviously agitated with your reply as he ran his fingers through his hair.

You shook your head softly, a wave of sadness running through you because you couldn't give him the answer he wanted. Tears started running down your face again suddenly as you kept repeating 'I'm sorry' over and over again.

He lifted his thumb up to your cheek, softly brushing the tears away. "Hey it's okay, Don't worry. I'll keep you safe"

He didn't understand the feelings he was feeling, He had never craved to protect someone so much, He had never been this gentle in his whole life.

"What's your name?" he asked, distracting you to hopefully stop the flow of tears streaming down your face. He felt like if you didn't stop crying in the next minute, he was going to lose it.

You answered your name to him, earning a soft smile. "I'm Rafe, it's nice to meet you." He finished the sentence with your name, sending shivers down your spine.

"Liv" You gasped, making his head tilt in confusion before you shot up from your seat. "Wow, ma. Slow down, what do you mean?" Rafe replied, holding your hips to stop you from completely falling over. You sat back down quickly in defeat, your eyes wide with panic.

"Liv, I-I came here with my friend Liv. I'm gonna scare her. I need to find her." You gasped, your voice trembling as you spoke. "It's ok, We'll find her. Don't worry, it's ok." He repeated, desperate for your face to get back to your normal expression, aka, not struck with terror.

It was obvious to Rafe through the glaze cast over your eyes, the shaking from your hands and the drooping of your eyelids that someone had slipped something into your drink.

He had hosted enough parties at his fraternity to know what insecure, probably small dicked boys, not men, can do to women. And it revolted him.

"R-rafe. I'm gonna go to sleep now" You whispered, your body finally giving out before you could stop it, his arms quickly coming up to stabilize you before you toppled over.

He bit his lip as he tried to figure out what to do, pulling your body into his arms as you didn't even stir. He was scared. So scared.

He didn't know what you were given, how much you were given, what would happen after you woke up, if you even woke up at all.

He carried you up the stairs and into his bedroom, unlocking the door and locking it behind him again. His room was the only one with a lock in the whole house, because he was damned if he was going to walk in on random strangers having drunk sex on his bed.

He rested you softly on his bed, making sure your head was comfortably on his pillow and resting a blanket over your body after taking your heels off.

He looked at your sleeping form, your long eyelashes resting on your cheeks, your hair falling softly over your shoulders and your chest rising and falling with your breaths.

He looked at you one last time before leaving his room, ignoring every person greeting him as he made a beeline straight for the living room.

He scanned over the large crowd in the house, numerous people dancing, some making out, his frat brothers doing keg stands, and one very panicked girl going up to every stranger she sees.

Rafe took no time before walking straight to the girl in the middle of the dance floor, tapping her on the shoulder. She turns immediately to face Rafe, her face struck with confusion.

"Are you Liv?" Rafe asks, earning a confused nod from the girl in front of him” I am! Have you seen my best friend anywhere? She's about yay height, really pretty, heart of gold, she kinda looks like that baby deer from that Disney movie, she's wearing this white dress and-"

Rafe stops her ramble with a quick nod causing her eyes to widen. "What? Where is she?"

"In my bed" Rafe replied, remembering he wasn't all that good with small talk. "What? What the fuck do you mean, in your bed? What did you do? I swear to god-"

"Ok, calm down. Someone gave her something. I found her in the bathroom sobbing before she passed out. I put her in my bed then came down here, end of story" He replied, starting to get slightly agitated.

The girl he now knows to be Liv quickly walks off, heading straight for upstairs where the bedrooms are. Rafe rolls his eyes before following swiftly behind her, though he's glad that there's someone out there other than him trying to protect his newfound soft spot.

Liv halts at all the bedrooms, looking expectantly at Rafe before he walks in front of her and opens his door. Liv immediately rushes to you, still passed out on Rafe's bed.

She sits next to you, tucking your hair behind your ear before placing a kiss on your forehead. "Of course, on the first party she goes to, some sick fuck roofies her and she ends up in Rafe Cameron's bed" Liv speaks, not taking her eyes off you.

"How do you know my name?" Rafe asks, not even bothering to look at the person he's talking to as he focuses on your chest rising and falling. "Ha, everyone knows who you are Rafe. And if I find out you had anything to do with her getting hurt, I'm gonna chop your dick off and feed it to you and make sure everyone on campus knows it"

It would be a lie to say Rafe wasn't slightly amused by your best friend's words, holding back his smile and keeping his face stern. "I would never do that shit. Especially not to her" Liv's eyebrow quirked in confusion at the last bit of his sentence.

She knows for a fact that you did not know Rafe Cameron before this night, let alone any frat boys. Liv could cry at the sight of your passed-out form, taking full blame and responsibility for the fact that you got hurt when she was meant to protect you.

She pulled her phone out from her purse, about to call an Uber back to the dorms for both of you. "No, I'll drive you" He stated, not leaving room for an argument

Liv nodded slowly before pulling the blanket off you, your body involuntarily starting to shiver from the cold air.

Rafe walked over to his closet, grabbing his warmest hoodie. Liv looked up at him as he raised your body softly, placing the hoodie over your head and softly lifting you up into his arms.

Rafe walked with Liv down to the road outside the fraternity house, receiving hundreds of stares from people in the crowd. But he didn't care, all he cared about was you.

He let Liv open the door to the backseat of his truck, allowing him to place you softly inside before Liv climbed in next to you, placing your head on her lap.

The ride was completely silent, barring Liv's directions to the dormitories, but she didn't miss the way he was constantly looking in the rearview mirror at you.

It didn't take long before Liv was leading the way to your dorm, Rafe trailing slowly behind with you in his arms.

She flicked the light on in your dorm, Rafe quickly knowing which bed was yours from the multiple stuffies and pink blankets. He lifted the covers before placing your head on the pillow once more, knowing Liv was going to get you changed before she slept.

"Thank you, Rafe, for looking out for her when I didn't" Liv said as Rafe walked to your door, nodding curtly in repose to her statement.

He gave you one last look before he walked out of your door, watching as Liv was about to shut the door on him after saying goodbye. Panicked he placed his foot in front of the door before it shut, forcing it open.

"C-can I get her number, please?"

[pedrospatch]

call it what it is

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: A disagreement over patrol duty leads to declarations that have been long overdue.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. established relationship. HEFTY AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and joel is 56). ellie and joel are fine bc i said so and they deserve nothing less. reader handles a rifle, joel’s a little too overprotective and almost seems controlling, but i promise he is not. well, maybe just a smidge. arguing, admission of feelings, joel miller says i love you (yes this is ooc, no i do not care bc i need this old man to tell me he loves me). angst, fluff. quite a bit of side character interaction before we get to joel and reader in the second half. the only physical description of reader is that she is shorter than joel. fair warning, i am quite rusty.

word count: 4.2k

a/n: hi hello. i have not shared a wip in over 2 months. i was going back and forth on whether or not i wanted to share a fic with so much going on but decided i wanted to get back to doing what i enjoy. that and ofc that new footage was a boost of inspo. i am sending so, so much love to anyone who happens to see this author note, whether you read this fic or just happen to see this note in passing whilst scrolling. i know things have been tough, but i am here with you. <3

Joel wakes with a gentle start. Yawning, he rolls over from his side onto his back, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as warm, golden sunlight filters into the bedroom through the sheer, white linen curtains drawn over the window. He stares up at the ceiling, his breathing slow, steady, and even. He’s still getting used to it, it seems. Waking this calmly, with a tranquil peace he had been so certain he would never in his life feel again. He knew it couldn’t be a mere coincidence the nightmares had all but stopped tormenting him in his sleep when the two of you stopped doing that awkward little tap dance around one another and began sharing a bed, a home, a life.

No more bolting upright in sheer panic in the middle of the night, heart pounding and drenched head to toe in a cold sweat. No more believing he’s failing in his sleep. No more waking up feeling like he’s lost something.

Even his dreams about Sarah had become so, so much more pleasant. Images of her in that field on that night were replaced by different memories, like watching her teammates dogpile her after she’d scored the winning goal in their soccer tournament, or the big, triumphant grin she’d flashed him over her chocolate milkshake as the pair sat in their usual corner booth at their favorite fifties-themed diner in Austin—much to Joel’s surprise, Sarah had politely declined her teammates’ invitation for pizza once the match ended, choosing to celebrate her victory with him. Just the two of them.

“Y’sure you don’t wanna go with your friends, kiddo?” he’d asked, raising an eyebrow. He had been certain she was approaching the age where she would start spending less and less time with her old man. “I wouldn’t mind, y’know.”

“Positive,” she had reassured him with a smile, looping her arm through his and leading him off the pitch. “I’d much rather be with you, dad.”

Rather than smelling metallic in his slumber, he smells the grass that stained her white and blue striped jersey. Her cheeks are smeared with dirt, not with crimson.

Stifling another loud yawn, Joel stretches his arm out over towards your side of the bed, his calloused fingers seeking the warmth and softness of your naked body—instead, all they find are empty sheets, cold and long abandoned. He turns his head, and as suspected, you are not laying there beside him. That’s hardly out of the ordinary. Out of the two of you, you were the early riser, up before the neighbors’ rooster even had the chance to sound the alarm. Joel knows how much you treasure your quiet mornings lounging on the porch swing he’d built for you as you watched the sunrise with a hot cup of coffee in hand. He often made a genuine effort to get up and join you, but lately, his patrol rotations had been all over the place thanks to a shortage of patrolmen. He found himself sleeping in whenever he had the chance, seeing as he never knew when he might have to work a damn double. Or maybe it was just his age catching up with him.

He checks the time and then rolls out of bed, groaning when his sore knees and his aching lower back protest his movement.

After taking a quick shower using whatever hot water the kid had left for him after her own shower—much to his annoyance, it was not very much—Joel brushes his teeth and gets dressed for the day before pulling on his boots and heading downstairs into the kitchen where he finds the culprit responsible for the cold downpour he’d been forced to wash himself under. Ellie’s sitting at the table, absentmindedly stirring her oatmeal around her bowl with her spoon as she flips through one of her comic books. Just as he’s about to greet her, he spots the clean, empty coffee pot on the kitchen counter and frowns. You hadn’t even made coffee yet?

Now, that—that is out of the ordinary.

“Where is she?” he asks.

“Well, good morning to you too, old man. Oh, I slept great, thanks for asking,” Ellie quips without looking up at him as she flips the page. She mumbles something under her breath he doesn’t quite catch, something like, and you get on my ass about my manners?

Rolling his eyes, Joel snorts in response and pads over to the coffee maker on the counter. He spoons in some of the grounds he’d traded for earlier that week into the reusable filter, pours in water from the tap, and turns it on to brew. He grabs two ceramic mugs from the wire dish rack beside the sink and sets them down on the counter. “She out back?” he questions, yanking the refrigerator door open—he tries to remember the little things, like how you enjoyed your coffee with a bit of milk as well as a dash of cinnamon, if you had the rations, or something to trade for the precious spice. He always made sure that you did.

“Nope.” Ellie shovels a spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth and adds thickly, “She went to get some eggs.”

Joel shoots her a look of disgust over his shoulder. “Jesus, Ellie! How many times do I gotta tell you? Don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s bad manners,” he scolds her, shaking his head. He turns his attention back to the refrigerator. As he reaches for the glass bottle of milk, he pauses and his eyebrows pull together in confusion when he sees the wicker basket on the top shelf. “Wait a minute.” He feels her stiffen in her chair. “Why the hell would she go get eggs when we’ve got a full basket of ‘em right here in the fridge?”

She clears her throat. “Oh, uh, my bad. I got confused. Think she said she was gonna go get more honey? Uh, I used the last of it to make my breakfast this morning and she, uh—she wanted some for her toast. You know, ‘cause she really likes putting honey on her toast,” she rambles before piling more oatmeal into her mouth.

Closing the refrigerator door, he turns to her, his eyes narrowing with suspicion as uneasiness settles deep in the pit of his stomach. “Ellie?”

There’s a momentary pause. “...yeah?”

This time, Joel doesn’t bother to chastise the teenager for talking with her mouth full. “Where is she?”

Ellie nervously swallows her food and holds up both of her hands. “Hey, I already fucking told you, man.”

“Look, I know you like the back of my own hand, kiddo. And I know damn good and well when you’re lying to me.” Joel crosses his arms over his chest. “Now tell me the truth. What do you know that I don’t?”

Groaning, Ellie sits back in her chair. “Ugh. She made me swear not to tell you! She’ll fucking strangle me if I do—”

“Yeah, well, not if I fuckin’ strangle you first myself,” he threatens her. “M’Serious, Ellie. Tell me what’s going on. Right now.”

“Alright, alright! Jesus,” she huffs. “She’s with Tommy. He’s been taking her out of town to do target practice in the mornings, just the two of them. She usually gets back to the house before you get up,” she admits.

Joel’s arms fall back to his sides, his shoulders tense. “And how long has this been goin’ on?” he asks, rigidly. There’s a sudden tightness inside his chest, a feeling he hasn’t felt it in a while, but is still all too familiar to him.

After Tommy spread the word around town that more people were needed for patrol duties, you’d expressed an interest in the role, but Joel had been all too quick to shut you down, telling you he didn’t want you stepping foot outside the community’s gates.

“No,” he’d said. “Not happenin’. S’too dangerous.”

“But Joel—”

“I said,” he lowered his voice. “No.”

He hadn’t offered you an explanation as to why he was against it, refused to give you one good, solid reason as to why it was acceptable for him to risk his own life to protect Jackson, but it wasn’t acceptable for you to do the same.

Joel hadn’t known how to tell you the truth. How he needed you far, far more than you needed him, how the mere thought of losing you, the best fucking thing that could have possibly happened to him since the world ended, made him feel like his heart was going to stop.

A few weeks had passed since then, and thankfully, you never brought it up to him again. You had lost interest in patrol duty. Or so he’d thought.

“How long has this been going on?” he repeats after a minute.

“C’mon, man! Haven’t I already snitched enough?”

“Ellie,” Joel bites out her name. “Tell me. How long?”

She sighs in defeat. “Two weeks? Maybe three?” When she notices the muscle in his jaw tick, she grimaces. “You do realize why she didn’t fucking tell you, right?”

“Don’t,” he warns her, sharply.

“I’m just saying,” Ellie mutters, peering down into her bowl.

Without another word, Joel angrily storms past her and straight out the front door, snatching up his rifle on the way. He heads straight for the stables, trying to ignore the anxiety flaring inside of his chest.

Focus.

Now, breathe in. And breathe out.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe...

You exhale as you slowly squeeze the trigger.

Y’squeeze it like you love it, you had been told by your reluctant instructor.

The round fires off into the distance and you swiftly grab the bolt handle, bringing it up, back, forward, and then down again. You pull the trigger once more, then repeat and continue firing one shot after the other for a total of five rounds.

The rifle’s recoil nearly sends you flying backwards, but a strong hand on your back keeps you nice and steady. That same hand then moves to your shoulder and gives you three firm taps.

“Alright, alright! Christ,” Tommy laughs. He withdraws his arm from around you and shakes his head. “Fuckin’ calm down, Annie Oakley.”

Picking up his binoculars, he rises to his feet and looks through the lens at the makeshift targets that he’d set up for you, three empty soup cans lined up in a row on top of a wooden fence about twenty-five yards away—your longest shooting distance to date.

“Well?” You don’t even bother masking your impatience as you lower the rifle, carefully propping the weapon up against the tree stump you’re perched behind. Rubbing your sore shoulder, you hope the kickback won’t leave a bruise. You wouldn’t know how to explain that to Joel. “How did I do?”

His response comes in the form of a long, low whistle.

There is no telling if that had been good whistle, or if it had been a bad one. You groan. Now was not the time for him to dick around. “Please tell me I got at least one of them?”

“You got ‘em all, actually.” Tommy replies, lowering the binoculars and peering down at you. There’s a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “Good job, kid.”

Kid? Not exactly a nickname one wants to be called by the brother of the much, much older man that they are romantically involved with. It’d taken Tommy months to accept your relationship with Joel, especially when you moved your things out of your unit and into his over the summer. Part of you wonders if him referring to you as a kid is simply his own subtle way of telling you—no, of reminding you, that he’s still not comfortable with it.

And perhaps he never would be.

After all, you had still been a teenager when you first arrived to Jackson a few years ago, stumbling upon the town just a few months shy of the twentieth birthday you weren’t sure you would survive long enough to see.

You were indeed a kid when you’d met Tommy Miller.

Were.

Scowling up at him, you snap, “I told you to stop calling me that. I’m not nineteen anymore, Tommy.”

Having read your mind, he gives you a small smile and acknowledges, “Yeah, you’re right. You definitely ain’t a kid anymore.” He offers you his hand and hoists you up to your feet. Before dropping your hand, he gives it an apologetic squeeze.

You relax a little and smile back at him. “Did I really get all three?”

Tommy nods. “You sure did. You’re a damn good shot. I gotta be honest with you—I didn’t expect you to be this fuckin’ good,” he admits sheepishly.

Chuckling, you scoff, “Thanks. I think.”

“It’s a compliment, sugar.” He winks and flashes you a lopsided grin. “In fact, I’d say my work here is done.”

“Great! So when are you putting me on the roster?”

His grin instantly vanishes. “Uh, listen. About that....”

He trails off, and your heart sinks a little.

Tommy wouldn’t back out of this now—would he?

“Oh, no. Don’t you dare go back on your word, Miller,” you say, lightly poking him in the chest. “We had a deal. You said if I did well enough, you’d think about it.”

He nods in agreement. “Exactly. Said I’d think about it. And I think that puttin’ you on the roster for patrol ain’t a good idea.”

Your mouth falls open. If he never had any intention of holding up his end of the bargain, then what had been the point of teaching you how to shoot?

You didn’t understand.

“You just said it yourself, I’m a great shot! I’m a good on horseback, too. I’m stealthy. I’m diligent. What more do you fucking need from me, Tommy?”

Tommy’s chest heaves with a heavy sigh. “Joel would fuckin’ murder me with his bare hands if I even thought about puttin’ you on patrol duty. Hell, he’d murder me just knowin’ we’re out here and I’m teachin’ you how to shoot. It’s a damn fuckin’ miracle he still hasn’t caught onto this, y’know.”

Shocked, your eyebrows shoot to your hairline. “This is about Joel? Are you serious?”

“‘Course it is.” He pauses. “Listen, now I know the three of us had our—differences—when he first told me ‘bout you two. Still takin’ me a bit of gettin’ used to, but I can see he’s real serious about you. I know my brother, and I know he won’t risk losin’ what’s most important to him. Ain’t no way in hell. He doesn’t want you out here and you know that as well as I do.” Tommy shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, shrugging as he shuffles his weight from one cowboy boot to the other. “Unless he’s alright with it, I ain’t gonna put you on the roster.”

For a moment, you’re at a complete loss for words.

Upon seeing the crestfallen expression on your face, he makes a suggestion. “You can try talkin’ to him ‘bout it again if it means that much to you. Ask him—”

“Ask?” You want to laugh. You almost do. “I’m an adult, Tommy. I don’t need his permission to do this. Or to do anything for that matter. Joel doesn’t tell me what I can and can’t do.”

Tommy smiles wryly. “Well then, if that’s the case, why are we sneakin’ around and doin’ this behind his back?”

Your shoulders slump in defeat.

Because the ramifications could be disastrous.

Joel had made his stance on the matter abundantly clear, and yet here you were, deliberately disobeying him.

“Stumped you real good, didn’t I?”

Before you can even start to think about how you can possibly respond to that, you hear the sound of hooves in the dirt behind you, followed by whinny of a horse.

Tommy’s face pales as he glances over your shoulder.

“Shit.”

There’s no need for you to ask. His grimace says it all.

Somehow, you will yourself to turn around just as Joel’s steed comes to a halt beside the mare you and Tommy had ridden out on together. He jumps out of the saddle, grunting at the forceful impact on his knees when his feet hit the ground. His rifle hangs from a worn, brown leather strap slung across his back.

He approaches the two of you looking absolutely livid, and your throat goes dry.

“The hell is goin’ on here?” He breezes right past you, roughly shoving his brother with both hands. “Why the fuck would you bring her out here, Tommy? What the fuck is the matter with you?”

“Joel, c’mon. Take it easy—”

“Don’t fuckin’ tell me to take it easy!”

“Joel!” You reach for his arm. “Wait, it’s not his fault!”

Joel shoves him again, then takes him by the collar of his shirt and pins him against the ponderosa pine tree behind him. “You’ve been bringin’ her outside the gates behind my fuckin’ back for weeks, asshole?”

The panic begins to set in—he’s taking his anger out on the wrong person, and deep down, he knows this too.

“Joel! Stop! Let him go!” Grabbing fistfuls of his jacket, you try pulling him off of the younger man. “Stop it! It’s not his fault! I asked Tommy to bring me out here!”

He whirls around, his nostrils flared, jaw clenched.

You’ve seen this side of him a handful of times before.

But his anger has never been directed at you.

“What?”

Immediately, you let go of him and take a step back. “I asked Tommy to bring me out here and teach me how to shoot so that I can start working patrol,” you explain, hoping, praying, he doesn’t catch the slight tremble in your voice. “This was all my idea, okay? If you’re going to be mad at someone, then be mad at me. Not at him.”

“So you did this after I fuckin’ told you I didn’t want you out here?” Joel seethes. His neck becomes flushed, his tan skin now a deep shade of red.

“Joel—”

He cuts you off. “I had to find out from Ellie? You tried to get her to fuckin’ lie to me? After all the work it took for me and her to—” Stopping mid sentence, he places his hands on his hips and shakes his head.

“Joel. Please.” Behind the anger in his dark brown eyes, you detect something else. A mingle of hurt, concern—fear?

Tommy awkwardly clears his throat. “Well I’m, uh—I’m gonna head back to town,” he says, touching a hand to the back of his neck. “I’ll let the two of you work things out in private.” As he passes Joel, he lightly claps him on the shoulder. “Girl’s a sharp shooter, big brother. I’d reckon she’s almost better than you.”

His effort to lighten the mood fails. Miserably.

Offering you a subtle nod of encouragement, Tommy hops into the saddle of his mare and takes off towards the commune.

Silence falls over the both of you. It feels suffocating.

Unfamiliar.

Finally, you speak. “Joel, please just hear me out—”

“What the hell were you thinkin’? Or were you just not thinkin’ at all?”

“I was thinking I want to pull my weight in Jackson.”

“You already have a fuckin’ job,” Joel reminds you.

“Making sandwiches and serving whiskey at The Tipsy Bison?” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “I am capable of more than that, Joel. So much more. Don’t you believe I’m capable of doing more?”

“I don’t want you out here,” he grits through his teeth. “Capable or not, I don’t want you outside Jackson’s walls. I don’t want you on patrol and that’s fuckin’ final. You understand me?” Now it’s him who falters, and you wonder if you’re imagining things, or if that’s really a tear you see sliding down the side of his face, disappearing into the salt and pepper scruff of his beard.

“That’s not your decision to make, Joel. It’s mine.”

“M’responsible for you. It’s my job to look after you—to protect you.”

Something about the way he is looking at you, it feels like a punch to the gut, and it’s at that precise moment when you begin to realize that he’s not angry. He’s afraid.

“Joel, I know that all you want to do is protect me,” you sigh, letting your arms fall down to your sides. “I know you do. But you’re doing me no favors by trying to keep me sheltered. By treating me like I’m defenseless. Don’t forget, I’m a survivor too.”

“You already know how fuckin’ dangerous it is out here. Clickers, raiders—”

“I can handle it,” you insist, stubbornly.

“You’d be puttin’ yourself right in harm’s way!”

You shoot back, “You mean, the way you and so many other people put yourselves in harm’s way every single day for the sake of keeping Jackson safe?”

A frustrated growl rumbles through his chest. “Christ, why are you bein’ so fuckin’ foolish? You’re just askin’ to get yourself killed!”

“I can take care of myself!” You realize your hands are shaking and curl them into tight fists at your sides in an effort to hide it. “Just accept it, Joel! Accept that I can take care of myself, alright?”

That is all it takes to tip Joel over the edge he’s been teetering on. “Then what do you fuckin’ need me for?” he shouts, his voice thundering over the quiet plains of Wyoming. “If you can take care of yourself, what’s the point in us bein’ together? Why are you with me?”

“Because I love you!”

As soon as the confession comes tumbling out of your mouth, you take a step back, your wide eyes meeting his own. Until now, neither of you have ever called this what it is, been bold enough to say it’s love.

Loving after so much grief, so much loss, is daunting. It’s something you thought you would never be capable of doing again, not in this lifetime. Not in this world. It’s happened, though.

You love Joel Miller.

And he loves you.

He’s never told you he does, but he’s shown you.

From the way remembers how you take your coffee in the mornings, to the way he laces his fingers with your own, holding your hand when he’s buried inside of you, whispering sweet nothings into your collarbone every single night.

“You—you what?” Joel’s whisper is hardly audible.

You inch your way closer to him, your voice soft. “I love you,” you declare once more. “I’m not with you because of what you can do for me. I’m not with you because you can take care of me.” Closer. “I’m with you because I love you—because I’m in love with you, Joel.” Closer, until your chest brushes against his, and he can smell the subtle scent of your homemade, rosewater soap. “The only thing I need, and have ever needed from you, is your love in return.”

His throat bobs. Before you can utter another word, he lifts his hands and gently takes your face, cradling it in between his large palms, gently. His eyes search yours, immediately finding the sincerity behind your words. Leaning down, he brushes the tip of nose against your own as one of his hands travels down, his long fingers curling around the nape of your neck. His thumb lightly strokes the column of your throat.

“I love you,” Joel says hoarsely. Three words he hadn’t said to anyone in over two decades—it feels foreign to him, they ring strange in his own ears. He tries it again, clearer this time, and with a little more confidence. After all, he’s only saying what he has known from the very start. “I love you.” His other hand moves to your hip, pulling you even closer to him. “M’gonna love you for the rest of my life, baby.”

He leans in further and presses his lips to yours lightly, at first, but he wastes no time in sweeping his tongue across your bottom lip, silently asking for more.

Your mouth parts for him, and he backs you against the ponderosa, kissing you deeply, greedily, like he’s a man starved.

You whimper into him, your hands sliding up his broad chest and past his shoulders until they’re tangled in his soft, graying curls. He breathes you in, like you are the oxygen he needs to stay alive.

It isn’t until you both hear the sound of rustling behind a nearby shrub that you’re forced to pull apart. “Don’t move,” Joel instructs in a hushed voice. He keeps you pinned against the tree, his hand abandoning your hip. He glances around, slowly reaching behind his back for his rifle. His tense shoulders relax when the both of you see a pair of rabbits dart out from one dried bush and straight into another. Exhaling an amused huff, Joel shifts his attention back to you and rests his forehead against yours.

Smiling, you reach up and softly graze his beard with your fingertips. “Guess it’s about time we called this what it is, huh?”

“Guess you’re right, darlin’.” He lifts his chin, brushing a kiss onto your forehead. “M’sorry for raisin’ my voice to you. For talkin’ to you the way I did. S’just, the thought of somethin’ happenin’ to you out here scares shit out of me.” Taking a step back, he pulls the strap of his rifle from around his shoulder. He chews the inside of his cheek and silently stares at the gun in his hands. After a minute, he meets your curious gaze. “Do you really wanna do this, sweet girl?”

You nod. “Yeah. I really do.”

Joel sighs. “Can I put a condition it?”

“Depends on what that condition is.”

“I’m your patrol partner. Every shift. Every rotation.”

You roll your eyes. “Joel.”

“At least for the first few weeks,” he bargains. “Last thing I need is for you to be paired up with some fuckin’ idiot who doesn’t know what the hell they’re doin’.”

Knowing that would be the only way he’d have some peace of mind, you decide to agree. “Fine. We’re patrol partners.”

“Alright then.” Joel nods and hands you the rifle. He flashes you a small grin. “Show me what you got, baby.”

divider credit to @/saradika 💛

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No Love Lost Series Masterlist

Read on A03! - Listen to the Playlist!

Rating/Warnings: 18+ for canon-typical violence, swearing, mental health issues, mentions of rape/non-con, and sexual content.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff.

Series Summary

Three years ago you were normal, the only demons you had to fight were your own, and you the most you knew of Vought and the Boys were what you saw on TV. But then you met Homelander at a stupid party, and woke up the next morning in a cell.

After almost two and a half years of you being Homelander's little project, Soldier Boy was woken up only go rouge and be put back under. Somewhere in there, you escaped. And before Queen Maeve went underground, she told William Butcher about the Anomaly, a powerful supe who recently escaped Vought captivity and may have an agenda against Homelander.

One month later, the Boys found you.

You spend the next five months helping them best you can, though your control over your powers is weak and your fear of Homelander makes you useless in combat. But you get an idea. A stupid, dangerous idea that turns you into Soldier Boy's keeper, giving him a second chance to take down Homelander, you hanging over his shoulder, a threat should he want to go nuclear again. It's exhausting and frustrating, and you might kill him and yourself as soon as this is over, but you said whatever it takes.

And this is what it takes.

Author's Note

This story is non-canon compliant, with the two main differences being;

1) Butcher doesn't have brain cancer, because I said so.

2) All of Gen V didn't take place, because I don't want to deal with the whole supe-plauge thing. Also that's too many characters to keep track of squad.

Because of this, the story will start in a similar setting as s4e5, but with different events leading up to it, and will deal with similar themes and have similar events to the rest of s4, but at an inconsistent rate. If you have any questions about other, smaller changes I have made, feel free to ask!

Navigation Key

❤️‍🔥 = Smut

🚩 = Additional Warnings

Chapter List

Chapter 1 - Where Winning Looks Like Losing Chapter 2 - A New Kind of Tension Chapter 3 - You've Torn Your Dress 🚩 Chapter 4 - You Might Be The Same As Me Chapter 5 - Popped, Cool, and Ready to Go Chapter 6 - I've Been Searching for a Fortified Defense Chapter 7 - The Blinding Ultra-Violence 🚩 Chapter 8 - I Just Find My Way Back ❤️‍🔥🚩 Chapter 9 - Can't Cover It Up ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 10 - Lead Me To The Ark ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 11 - The Wolves or The Ocean Rocks Chapter 12 - While My Blood's Still Flowing Chapter 13 - The Terror of Knowing Chapter 14 - Choke on Sun Chapter 15 - I Found A Martyr ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 16 - Let It Flood ❤️‍🔥 🚩 Chapter 17 - Make My Chest Stir Chapter 18 - Something In The Static ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 19 - Don't Look Back 🚩 Chapter 20 - Forget to Fall Down Chapter 21 - Some Things You Just Can't Speak About ❤️‍🔥 🚩 Chapter 22 - I Stayed In The Darkness With You Chapter 23 - Wherever You're Going ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 24 - You'll Never Be Alone ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 25 - All I Know ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 26 - I’ve Loved Everything About You That Hurts ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 27 - Just A Shot Away 🚩 Chapter 28 - Something That I'm Supposed to Be ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 29 - All My Bets On You Chapter 30 - Every Demon Wants His Pound of Flesh 🚩 Chapter 31 - I'd Do It All Again ❤️‍🔥

More Than You Could Ever Know - A No Love Lost Christmas Special

Part 1 - The Boys start Secret Santa, Ben pretends to do his job. ❤️‍🔥 Part 2 - Ben and Ryan go shopping, and you all try to find a tree. Part 3 - You and Ben have a Christmas Eve date. Many gifts are opened.

Bonus Footage (Standalone Chapters)

Dying’s Up to Me - A Prologue. Takes place 6ish months before Chapter 1. 🚩 They're Never Gonna Find You A Home - Request! Everyone adjusts to your life with the Boys. Takes place 5ish months before Chapter 1. 🚩 Back to Here - Request! They get horny at the dining table, and Butcher takes it personally. Takes place in Chapter 14. It's So Simple - You make Ben do icebreakers. He's a little bitch about it. Takes place in Chapter 14. Just Your Time - You give Ben internet lessons. Takes place in Chapter 14. As Much As I Do - Request! Ben finds you dancing, is immediately very normal about it. Takes place after Chapter 14 and around Chapter 15. Calling Your Name - Ben's first birthday awake isn't great. Takes place in Chapter 19. ❤️‍🔥 I Skip My Pride - You share some music with Ben over text. Takes place in Chapter 22. The Only Place That I Call Home - It's team game night, and everyone is sick of you and Ben's shit. Takes place in Chapter 24. ❤️‍🔥 Can't Help Myself - Request! Ben has a breeding kink, and you're incredibly horny, so it works. Takes place in around Chapter 24 and Chapter 25. ❤️‍🔥 Anywhere Else Is Hollow - A halloween special episode! Takes place in Chapter 25. It Was Smiling Down - A Ryan pov Chapter. Takes place between Chapter 26 and Chapter 27. A Call To Motion - Request! There's a lot of things you're good at. Sex with Ben is one of them. Takes places in Chapter 28.❤️‍🔥 I Want You Only - You and Ben go shopping. Takes place in Chapter 28 ❤️‍🔥 I’ll Hold Your Hand - Request! You get your period, and Ben has to do his job and take care of that. Takes place post series.

[redflagshipwriter]

batmom Cass progress post

(masterpost)

Far Too Young: Cassandra Wayne, Teen Mother Debutante?

Danny cringed away from the headline on the newspaper sitting on the coffee table. “I am so sorry,” he said miserably. Someone must have reported on that first day in the city. Why'd they sit on the story for so long? That was the only time he'd been in public with Cass. So far, he'd only left Wayne Manor with Damian and Alfred to volunteer at the animal shelter.

Cass blinked up at him, from her perch on the back of the sofa. “Don't be,” she said. “It's fine. They will always talk.” Her face twitched into condescension. “It means nothing.” 

He wrung his hands because it really did look like something. She hadn't given him the article and he wasn't quite bold enough to request to read it. But it couldn't be nice. Even the headline was judgmental. 

“It would probably be for the best if we made a statement.” Grandfather Bat said out of nowhere.

Danny startled and jumped straight up. The chair creaked unhappily when he landed back on it.

“Brucedad,” Cass complained.

He huffed and held his hands up. “Sorry, sweetheart. Didn't mean to startle anyone.”

Danny hunched a little more into his hoodie. Well. Tucker’s hoodie. It was way too big for Danny, especially after the weight he'd lost. But it was weirdly comforting. He fiddled with the sleeves.

“Cass, could we talk about it in my office?” Bruce said. His tone was calm and even. Danny sort of suspected it was for his benefit. “Danny, Damian is looking for you.”

“Oh, for real?” Danny let his heels drop off the chair, onto the carpet. “Yeah, okay. Where's he at?” 

Danny found his 13 year old uncle out in the barn with his cow. Danny hopped the wooden gate to go inside and sneezed at the dust in the air from dried hay. 

“Danny,” Damian acknowledged. He was brushing Batcow. “I hope that you are well this morning.” 

Danny made that weird white person smile-grimace where only his lips moved. “Good morning,” he said, instead of either lying or being a bummer. “Are we going to the shelter today?” 

Damian didn't pause. “Unfortunately, I have been told that it will not fit in Pennyworth’s schedule today,” he said primly. He dragged another long, precise stroke down Batcow’s fur, exactly lining up with his last stroke. Danny eyed his sure, confident motions. “Instead, I wondered if you would join me in a project in the barn. Have you any experience with wood working?”

“Nope.” Danny drifted a little closer. “Do you?”

“No.” Damian dropped to a crouch to take care of Batcow's hooves. “It is of no importance. We can overcome.” 

“Hell yeah, Uncle D,” Danny agreed genially. Why not? He shoved his hands in his pockets. “What are we making?”

“Storage shelving, for materials intended for art therapy.” Damian made one final brisk movement and rose in a smooth motion. He hung up the tools and brushed his hands off. Danny followed Damian as he started to leave.

“Art therapy?” Danny echoed curiously. “That's neat. For ….you?” He ventured. 

‘It’s for me,’ Danny thought wryly. ‘This 13 year old takes his responsibility as my Uncle seriously. He'll say it's for him, but want me there, and-’

“Of course not,” Damian scoffed. “It is for Jerry and Batcow. They have unresolved traumas.” He pulled the door shut behind them. “We will require lumber from the storage unit, as well as an assortment of power tools. I am disallowed from using them without the presence of someone who is taller than 5 feet, or older than 20.”

“That is awfully specific.” Danny eyed Damian suspiciously. “I'm not going to get in any trouble for this, right?” He followed even as Damian picked up the pace a little as they crossed the huge green lawn towards a shed. 

“Tt.” Damian tapped in a code at lightning speed and then hefted open the door. “No. You will be fine.” He said flatly. He stalked into the dark space. Danny followed and sneezed at the dusty interior. “Can you lift 50 pounds?” 

Danny sniggered. “Yeah, easily,” he said with confidence.

Damian hummed in the back of his throat. “Good. You shall be the beast of burden.” 

That was such a wild thing to say that Danny blinked twice while processing it. Beast of burden?!? Who said that?

“... I'm not sure I like that,” Danny teased. “Have you heard that I'm the baby?” He gestured at himself. Weedy as he was, he was still noticeably larger than Damian. 

“You should be proud,” Damian said in a dry tone. “to be such an accomplished baby. Here.” He pointed at a bundle of lumber. “I require this.” 

Danny was a burdened beast back and forth between the shed and the barn for three trips to assemble everything that Damian thought they would need. The preteen oversaw it all with perfect aplomb, dark eyes glittering as his plan started to come together. 

There was a learning curve. 

“That's why they say to measure twice and cut once, huh,” Danny observed. He pursed his lips at the board that was only about half an inch too short for their purpose. They couldn't like, glue or nail on a slight extension, could they?

“We shall throw this in the woods so that no one discovers our failure.” Damian lifted one side of the poorly cut plank and dragged it to the back of the barn into an unused stall. It dragged a line through the loose straw cushioning the floor. 

“He's so little,’ Danny thought hysterically. He could not laugh at Damian. He absolutely could not. The little guy took himself so seriously. Danny was actually shaking with the effort not to laugh or coo.

Damian seemed to have no idea. “For the moment I will store it out of sight here.” He let the plank fall to the ground from an inch or so and then shut the stall door. Danny watched with his head cocked to the side and a hand pressed over his lips to hide his grin. 

“We have two more excess planks.” Damian went back to business. 

[pastryfication]

I love ur fics ❤️ can you do an Oscar x reader fic where she can’t find Oscar in the paddock and is panicking and goes to lando for help x

i'm here but i'm lost in crowd

pairing: oscar piastri x reader note: you guys seem to really love platonic lando lol so here's another one <3 also i’m sorry i somehow misread your request to reader getting lost and not losing oscar…

the united states grands prix were by far the most chaotic races of the season. normally, you didn’t prioritise them—the time-zones messed with your sleep schedule, the amount of spectators became overwhelming, and oscar had so many media duties that he barely had time for you, so why spend precious days off when you could use them on less crowded grands prix?—but you had time off either way, so on a 20 hour flight to the other side of the world you were.

you tried to stay close to kim as you arrived at the paddock. he was the person on oscar’s team who you knew and trusted the most, and he was more than happy to let you tag along to his duties, but eventually, he had to go to a meeting, and then you had to find somewhere else to go.

at first, you decided to stay in the hospitality area, too afraid of getting lost to wander about, but it quickly started to bore you. there were no familiar faces, and you grew tired of sitting alone in a corner.

walking outside the mclaren building, you were immediately met with the rush of people walking around you. the air was full of excitement and anticipation—the usual on a race weekend—and you couldn’t help but smile. this was why you wanted to come to as many races as possible; you absolutely loved the atmosphere.

smiling, you walked through the paddock, waving to fans when they noticed you, stopping briefly to say hi to engineers and other mclaren personnel as you passed them, and before you knew it, you found yourself in a completely unfamiliar place.

you looked around, realising just how disoriented you were. the hum of the paddock, which had initially filled you with excitement, now felt like an overwhelming blur. faces passed by too quickly to register, people walking around everywhere and your heart started to race as the nagging feeling grew—where were you?

the crowds seemed to move faster now, making you feel even more isolated. the rush of people, the sounds of chatter and excitement, the bright texas sun bearing down—it all added to the growing panic in your chest. you tried to retrace your steps in your mind, thinking back to how you'd ended up here, but the more you thought about it, the more it seemed like you’d wandered too far. you could feel your throat tightening as you scanned the sea of unfamiliar faces. why hadn’t you just stayed in the mclaren hospitality?

you reached for your phone, intending to send an SOS to someone from the team, but your pockets were empty. had you really been stupid enough to forget your phone?

as the realisation that you really were alone settled in your body, you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. you could do this. you’d been to enough races by now to find your way back, right?

but no matter how much you told yourself that, the panic only grew. what if you walked the wrong way and ended up even further from where you were supposed to be? what if you bumped into the wrong crowd and caused a scene? the paddock suddenly felt more intimidating than exciting, the noise drowning out your thoughts, leaving you frozen in place.

just as you felt yourself spiraling, a voice broke through the chaos.

“hey!” a voice called out your name. “what are you doing out here alone?"

you spun around so fast that you nearly stumbled, heart pounding in your chest as your eyes landed on the familiar face of lando norris. relief flooded through you so intensely that for a second, you couldn’t even form words. lando was standing just a few feet away, his helmet under one arm, a slightly confused but amused look on his face. he took a step closer, raising an eyebrow as he glanced around.

“pretty far from mclaren territory, aren’t you?” he teased, though his tone was light, and there was a softness in his eyes when he looked back at you.

you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “i don’t even know how it happened. i was fine, just walking around, and then all of a sudden, nothing looked familiar anymore. and now i just—” you trailed off, feeling a little ridiculous for admitting how overwhelmed you were.

lando’s expression softened when he noticed the genuine worry in your eyes. “hey, it’s alright,” he said, his voice gentle now. “it happens to the best of us. this place can be a maze if you’re not paying attention. if i had a dollar for every time someone got lost in this paddock, i’d have… well, probably enough to buy a few extra helmets.” he smiled when you laughed at his words, glancing around, as if to get his bearings, before his eyes landed back on you. “come on, i’ll walk you back before oscar starts a search party.”

you let out a breath of relief, feeling the tension in your chest loosen just a little. “thanks, lando.”

“don’t mention it,” he replied with a wink. “besides, it’s not every day i get to play the hero.”

you rolled your eyes shaking your head slightly, and as you continued walking through the paddock, the surroundings began to look more familiar. with lando’s easy-going presence beside you, the fear that had gripped you earlier seemed almost ridiculous now.

“you know,” he said after a few moments of walking in companionable silence, “i think oscar might owe me for this one. saving his girlfriend from the wild paddock? that’s gotta be worth at least a couple free dinners, right?”

you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound of it surprising even yourself. “i’ll make sure he knows just how heroic you’ve been today.”

lando smirked, glancing sideways at you. “good. i expect a full report.” there was a moment of silence before he continued. “honestly, though,” lando continued, glancing at you, “if you miss someone to hang out with, you should just stick with me more often. i’ll make sure you never get lost again.

“thank you, lan.” you smiled earnestly up at him.

as you neared the mclaren building, the bustling crowd became more familiar, and the sight of papaya clad engineers and personnel milling around instantly brought a sense of comfort. you exhaled, feeling the last remnants of anxiety melt away.

“here we are,” lando announced grandly, gesturing toward the motorhome. “safe and sound, thanks to your friendly neighborhood norris.”

you shook your head, a laugh escaping you. “i really appreciate it, lando. seriously.”

“anytime,” he replied, grinning widely. “i’ll always be happy to help.”

[p0orbaby]

Parental Guidance

summary: you’re on the brink of a baby induced nervous breakdown and you need your wife to pull her finger out a little

warnings: just some postnatal tension, but it all works out

a/n: thank you for the request !

word count: 1.2k

-

You’re pretty sure you haven’t slept in three days. Or is it four? The baby’s a demon. This tiny, adorable, 8-pound entity that seems to thrive on your misery. His cries have melded into a never-ending soundtrack of despair, punctuated by your own hollow attempts at soothing him with a song that you made up on the spot about 48 hours ago and now can’t stop singing. It’s called “Please, for the Love of All That is Good and Holy, Sleep.”

You used to be a person. You had interests, hobbies. You read books that didn’t have the words “Goodnight” and “Moon” in the title. You once watched entire movies from start to finish without interruptions. You’re pretty sure you used to smile, and not the deranged, Joker-esque grin you’ve developed from trying to maintain your sanity while walking a screaming infant around the house at 2 a.m.

And where is your darling wife, Alexia, in all this? Nowhere to be found. Well, she’s at work, technically. Which, fine. Someone has to pay the bills, but wasn’t there some kind of brochure about shared responsibility? Maybe she’s left it in her locker, along with her soul. You barely remember what she looks like at this point. You could pass her in the hallway and just nod politely, like she’s the postman.

You’re doing your best. Really, you are. But the situation is like trying to fill a bath with a teaspoon. And maybe you’re filling the bath wrong. Maybe the bath is cursed. You’ve tried everything—rocking, singing, automatic bouncers, and some baby yoga thing that some well-meaning Instagram mum swore by but mostly just made you realise how tight your hamstrings are.

Last night, you were so desperate, you found yourself Googling “Can babies drink Nyquil?” You didn’t actually give it to him, of course, but the fact that you even considered it is telling. Your maternal instincts have been reduced to the level of a sleep-deprived zombie.

You call Alexia. She picks up after the third ring. You can hear the echo of her voice, so you know she’s in one of those soundproof meeting rooms, which would be useful for something other than work right now, like, say, your mental breakdown.

“How’s it going?” she asks, with a tone that implies she has absolutely no idea how it’s going.

“Oh, fine,” you say, with the kind of deadpan delivery that would get a standing ovation on a late-night comedy show. “The baby’s great. He’s taken up wailing as a full-time job. He’s really passionate about it, you know? Very dedicated. I think he’s trying to set a record”

You hear her exhale softly. “I’m sorry, bebè. It’s just i'm in the middle of some media stuff—”

“No, no,” you cut her off. “By all means, finish giving your opinions on that new stadium or whatever. I’m sure our baby will appreciate it when he’s, I don’t know, 18 and actually sleeping. Maybe he’ll get a job there. Or just stand outside and scream, since that seems to be his true calling”

There’s a pause on the other end. Not a comfortable pause. The kind of pause that suggests she’s realising you might not be entirely okay. The baby shrieks louder, and you realise you’re bouncing him up and down like he’s a basketball and you’re trying to make a buzzer-beater shot.

“I’ll be home soon,” Alexia says finally, her voice softer.

“Define ‘soon,’” you counter, adjusting your grip on the baby before he launches himself out of your arms and catapults into a new dimension where babies don’t need sleep. “Is it ‘soon’ like in 20 minutes, or ‘soon’ like in three hours when I’ve lost the will to live?”

Another pause, this one even worse. You’re pretty sure you can hear her wincing through the phone.

“An hour?” she offers weakly, and you let out a laugh that’s halfway between genuine and maniacal.

“Perfect,” you say. “I’ll just go cry in the airing cupboard until then. The baby and I have matching dark circles under our eyes now, so that’s fun. Maybe we’ll start a band”

You hang up before she can respond, not trusting yourself to say anything else. You’re exhausted, stretched thin, and the fact that your wife isn’t here to witness the madness is only making things worse. You know she’s working hard, that she’s doing her best, but in this moment, it feels like you’re on a sinking ship and she’s on shore, waving at you from a distance.

An hour later, when she finally walks through the door, you’re sitting in the middle of the living room floor, surrounded by a sea of baby toys, burp cloths, and what you think might be some sort of baby vomit, though at this point, who really knows?

You look up at her, and she looks back at you, and there’s a brief moment where you’re pretty sure she’s about to turn around and walk right back out the door.

Instead, she says, “I brought wine”

You blink at her, then at the bottle of wine in her hand. It’s a good bottle, too. The kind you used to drink before you had a baby and your definition of “good wine” became “whatever has the highest alcohol content and is closest to the till”

“Great,” you say, pushing yourself up off the floor with a grunt. “Let’s get the baby drunk”

She gives you a tired smile, but you can see the worry behind it. “Cariño…”

“No, it’s fine,” you say, holding up a hand. “It’s totally fine. I’m just saying, if we give him some wine, maybe he’ll sleep. Or at least pass out for a little bit. We can all get some rest. Or die. Either one sounds good at this point”

She sighs, setting the bottle down on the coffee table and coming over to you. She takes the baby from your arms, and you’re almost tempted to just collapse on the spot. Instead, you let yourself lean against her, just for a moment, just long enough to remember what it feels like to be supported by another human being.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and you can hear the guilt in her voice. “I know this is hard. I’ll try to be here more”

You nod, but you’re too tired to respond with words. Instead, you just rest your head on her shoulder and close your eyes, savouring the brief reprieve from the bedlam.

“Do you think he’s broken?” you mumble after a while. “Like, did we get a defective baby?”

Alexia chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “No, he’s not broken. He’s just…expressive”

“Expressive,” you repeat, nodding slowly. “Right. So we got the model with all the extra emotions. Great”

“Extra emotions,” Alexia echoes, her tone lightening. “Maybe that means he’ll be a really good artist someday”

“Or he’ll just be really good at screaming,” you say, lifting your head to look at her. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be on a team, you’ve been doing a lot of solo missions lately”

“I know,” she says softly, her eyes meeting yours. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better”

You let out a long breath, feeling the tension between you, and your shoulder, start to ease. “Okay. But if he screams one more time tonight, we’re selling him to the circus”

“Got it,” Alexia says with a smile, and for the first time in days, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re not going through this alone.

[dreatopia]

What do I do? |  Paige Bueckers x fem!Reader

 Warnings: Smut!!! (but not in the way you think...)

 A/n: This is my first time writing anything on here so be nice! I got inspired by Sza for this and tbh i might just keep up the Sza theme for all of these stories... if I end up writing more. Enjoy!!

 “Last night, you called on accident. heard you fucking on the other end.”

Paige:

I heard the phone buzz on the nightstand, its glow illuminating the dim room. Lost in the moment, I almost ignored it, but I let my curiosity get the best of me. Reaching over, I glanced at the screen and saw the name—her name. 

"Why the hell is she calling me?" I muttered, sliding out from under the sheets and grabbing the phone.  I swiped to answer, my heart pounding. "Hey, what's up," I said, trying to keep my tone as normal as possible—even though I was internally shaking. What I heard next should have made me hang up immediately, but I didn’t. For a moment, there was only silence, followed by faint breathing and muffled voices in the background. Then I heard her voice. 

"Ohhh fuckkk…" I heard the familiar sounds of her moans, and suddenly my own breath started to become shallow. I froze in place. She must've called on accident, I was sure. I should hang up, but I really didn’t want to. I’d missed the sweet sound of her moans, especially when they were laced with my name. At this point, she was muttering incoherently—a name I didn’t understand—a name that wasn’t mine.

"Yes, just like that, Audrey…"

I felt my knuckles turn white, my jaw tensing with anger. Who the fuck is Audrey? The phone sat on my bed, and I listened, consumed by pure, seething rage. I could hear that bitch on the other end, talking to her, but it was nothing like how I would’ve done it. I would’ve told her how good of a girl she was being for me- how she was the most gorgeous girl I’d ever seen. But Audrey? She wasn’t doing any of that.

I felt like a freak for listening, but I couldn’t stop. I needed to hear her finish, to know if she was as good as I was.

My chest tightened as I got lost in the sound of her moans—even though they weren’t for me. My hands betrayed me, slipping down my pants and into my folds. I muted myself, not wanting my own moans to be heard. My fingers found my clit while my other hand cupped my breast. I can’t believe I’m getting off to my ex moaning for another girl.

But I couldn’t stop.

I heard her getting closer, her breaths quickening. Something sounded off, though, like she was faking it. A smirk tugged at my lips at the thought of her pretending. If I were there, she wouldn’t have to fake a damn thing.

Except I wasn’t there. We weren’t fucking. Instead, I was fucking myself to the sound of her. How pathetic.

I didn’t let that thought stop me. The closer she got, the faster I moved, slipping a finger inside myself. Her name escaped my lips as I wished it was her finger instead of mine.

“Oh, fuck, yeah… That feels so good,” I whispered, imagining her right here with me.

As if on cue, I heard her voice, shaky and breathless.

“I’m gonna cum.”

Her words pushed me over the edge.

“Yeah, baby, doing so good for me,” I murmured, my voice breaking as the orgasm washed over me. My body buzzed with pleasure I hadn’t felt in so long.

Through the receiver, I heard her staggering breaths as she came down from her high. Reality hit me like a brick.

Grabbing my phone, I hurriedly hung up. I already felt crazy for staying on as long as I did. My eyes grew heavy, and exhaustion consumed me. I fell asleep with one thought in my mind—the girl I let go.

The next morning, I woke to the sound of my phone dinging.

It was her.

R: Why does my phone say we were on a call for 20 minutes?

Fuck.

[hoe4sports]

“Love me to my bones”

Alexia Putellas x reader

A/N: Part two of the stargazing series. It’s based off of the song Stargazing by Myles Smith. P3 can be found here. Triggers includes swearing.

-

05.37. There was thunder outside causing you to be held awake. The heavy drumming on your windows definitely didn’t help on your anxiety. You were staring at the clock on your nightstand while your roommates soft snores were lingering in the room. 05.38. More thunder. Four rounds of thunder within one minute. 3 seconds away from you. For a hot second; you thought you had lost all common sense as you tossed yourself back in your bed and covered your head with a pillow. You didn’t just hate thunder, you despised it. It made all the anxiety you had piled up from football shoved underneath the carpet come alive. You weren’t particularly traumatised, but you had been tough on yourself as a kid. It was hard being compared to Alexia all the time, and it ended up with you having to work twice as hard as her. She was a natural, a magician with the ball. You however, were a not so much natural. But hey, you know what they all say; hard work over talent.

The scrutinising buzzing of Claudia’s alarm woke you up at 6. You were two ringings away from chucking your phone at Claudia to wake her up. It was weird staying with anyone else during away-games, but Alexia had requested her own room for the first time since you started playing together as kids. The wish had come up after she’d talk to Olga about her spacing out, only for Olga to blame it on Alexia for being so busy with football and her teammates. You were surprised by how much it hurt to be wrecked for your usual partner, but you accepted it. What hurt was that Alexia hadn’t reached out to you. She didn’t answer your texts, your calls and she hadn’t given you an explanation. Your explanation was made of giving her the benefit of the doubt. That’s why you had been paired with Claudia. Claudia wasn’t the worst person to camp up with, but by the judgment of her alarm; she wasn’t the best either. “Ah, rise and shine! Ready for another day of football?” Claudia sang after she’d turned off the alarm. The look on your face made her jump a little. “Oh my, Y/N, what happened to you?!” Claudia exclaimed dramatically while hopping up from her bed to touch your face and study the tiredness up close. “I couldn’t sleep, the thunder was horrendous” you mumbled as Claudia moved your face around while she fiddled with the visible bags under your eyes. “Ai, I think you’ll need something better than coffee and face cream” she said blatantly causing you to whack her playfully in her thigh. Truth was that Alexia also hates thunder, so you knew that she was awake as well. You would normally sit together during thunderstorms in the nurturing company of each other. You had been each other’s safe space for years on end, sharing all your secrets and worst fears. That time seemed to had come to an end now that Alexia had Olga. 20 years chucked out of the window. The only comfort you had was that you knew Alexia first.

Claudia dragged you along downstairs for breakfast with the rest of the girls. You felt like you had been run over twice and it felt like your brain was about to pound out of your skull. A few of the girls were already downstairs; Ingrid, Mapi, Caroline, Marta, Patri and Irene. You flashed a half assed smile before you grabbed a plate and placed fruit on your plate. The lack of appetite wasn’t because of poor selection in the breakfast buffet; you could never eat properly after having nightmares or not having any sleep. The chair next to Ingrid was empty so you flopped down next to the Norwegian before taking a bite of the watermelon you had picked up. Ingrid was someone you could trust, whom you could rely on. She would never tell anyone and she would never judge. It was surprising to you when she told you that she wasn’t the captain of the Norwegian national team.

«Y/N? You look like someone forced you to do algebra all night!" Mapi exclaimed causing Ingrid to shot her a look. "Uhm, yea. There was thunder so i couldnt sleep" you shrugged while munching on the bright red strawberries you had collected from the buffet. The juiciness was refreshing for your dehydrated body. "Ai, How did Alexia sleep through that!” Mapi said as she popped a piece of bread into her mouth. “Where exactly is Alexia? Didn’t she come down with you?” Irene stated. The whole lot of girls looked at you as they quieted down. It felt like someone had put a spotlight on your head and you felt your cheeks burn. Everyone knew you and Alexia were two peas in a pod, so everyone also knew that something was wrong. You decided to tell the truth and play it off cool. “She wanted to have her own room, I’m sharing with Pina” you explained as you looked to the wall next to the girls so you could avoid eye contact. The group went dead quiet. The whole room felt like it was closing in on you. The air felt hot. The ringing in your ears were gradually taking a turn for the worse. You could feel the tears pressing.

“I’m gonna go get ready for practice” you practically commanded as you shoved your chair out and stomped up the stairs to the your room in the 11th floor. You quickly opted for the shower, ripping the clothes off your body as fast as you could. The water was turned to a cold setting and the icy water made you feel more awake than ever. It sharpened your body and your mind to the point where you had forgotten about Alexia. Eventually, you got out and pulled on your shorts, t-shirt and your wind jacket. Claudia was laying on her bed watching TikTok as you came out of the bathroom. “That took forever!” Claudia sighted as she looked up at you. “Yea, I forgot the time” you muttered back as you slipped on your trainers. “Ready for practice?”

-

The practice hadn’t really been on your side. You had taken a tumble mid sprint and busted your head open. The medics had forced you to get a huge bandaid in the middle of your forehead. It looked awful, and gruelling. Later that same practice, you had managed to step on the ball during a drill and once again face planted into the grass. The last little slip up was when you got split into two team and Alexia had knocked your right out on your back causing you to black out for a hot second. This really wasnt your lucky day. You got into the wardrobe after practice and stayed behind to shower alone. The girls could get quite loud so you sometimes liked to stay behind. The hotel was in a walking distance to the arena, so it wouldn’t be an issue. After you came out of the shower, you bumped into Alexia.

“Oh, sorry” you said as you kept your head down low as you passed her. “What’s up with you today?” She asked with an attitude as she turned around to look at you. You stood towards the locker as you shrugged. “Nothing”. Alexia sighted as she crossed her arms. “I can tell that there is something going on. I know you Y/N better than anyone on the team.” Alexia said as you tried to get your clothes on as you felt your blood boil. You ignored her chucking your cleats into your bag with your dirty clothes. “Y/N, I know you can hear me! What’s going on with you today?” Alexia’s voice seemed to be a mix of annoyance and worry. You could hear her footsteps coming closer to you. It flipped for you when she touched your shoulder.

“Y/N. Come on, talk to me. You are my bestfriend. I love you and I won’t judge you.” she tried again. The emotions you were bearing felt like a kettle about to boil over. Like the moment when your acl snaps and the whole world goes quiet. Like before you take a penalty. Your heart was pounding in your chest. Your had gripped your bag so hard that it started to hurt your hands. Your breathing was becoming more and more heavy. You turned around to face Alexia.

“Y/N-“

“Really Alexia? Are you fucking dumb? You leave me hanging landing me with Claudia without giving me a heads up! You are an ASS at practice. You stop texting me, you stop partnering up with me, you stop being my best friend. You don’t give me any reason, any explanation. You throw 20 years in the trash within a heartbeat! And you tell me that you know me? That you love me? You clearly don’t fucking know or love me at all!”

“Y/N.. I-“

“Oh my god, Alexia. You really don’t know when to stop?! I’m such an idiot for loving you! I’m such an idiot for loving you more than I love myself, more than football, more than anything! You threw me away like I was nothing. And for what? For a fucking girl, Alexia! You don’t do that, people don’t do that to someone that has supported them for 20 years!”

Alexia’s eyes had tears in them. Her confusion was fogging her brain. She was longing for your touch, but she couldn’t tell you. She couldn’t tell you how Olga had picked a fight with her about you. How jealous Olga was. How she felt like she had to protect you from her own girlfriend. You couldn’t tell her how you were craving her touch. How you loved her first. How you had fallen in love with her before Olga was there. How you had liked her since you were teens. Maybe that was your way out of this situation, of this mess that had been made by you, Alexia and Olga.

“God Alexia, I love you. I love you so fucking much it hurts. I have loved you for decades. I loved you before Olga did. I was in love with you, Alexia. For years! So please, leave me the fuck alone.”

You bolted towards the door of the wardrobe leaving Alexia stunned. You felt embarrassed, but you were hurt. As you stormed out of the room, you smacked the door shut while you paced out as fast as your legs could. You needed to get away from Alexia. And you didn’t care what you had to sacrifice for that to happen.

Things between Olga and Alexia weren’t how you had assumed they were. It wasn’t really “Olga and Alexia” anymore. But Alexia hadn’t told you yet. How they had broken up the day you left for the away game. She wanted to tell you in person, somewhere private. Where nobody could hear her other than you. Where she could pour out her real feelings to you. She wanted to tell you that nobody was worth risking your friendship. That you were her bestfriend. That no girl was ever gonna get to ruin your friendship. That you were her ride or die. But she couldn’t tell you, because you were long gone. Alexia didn’t know what to do or how to make things right; but she knew that she needed to make amends.

[valkyrieromanoff]

God bless your dad's genetics… Dilf! Anakin x son’s girlfriend!reader

PREVIOUS NEXT

CHAPTER FIVE: SAUNA

synopsis: trapped in a sweltering sauna with Anakin, a tense confrontation unravels hidden truths about his fractured marriage to Padmé, leaving you torn between guilt, forbidden desire, and a fragile connection that defies reason.

warning: age gap (Anakin is 44 years old and the reader is in her early 20s), cheating, alternate universe, angst

words: 3.0k 

a/n: hello there, I confess that I started writing thinking it would be something hotter, maybe something happening, but then I started listening to 'Love is pain' by Finneas, and it ended up being more depressing than I imagined, anyway, I hope you like it ;) I appreciate the comments to know if the story is flowing for you too

Say it's not okay to feel that way It's real, you may not make her happy So what's wrong with me? If honestly, I wanna be the only way she can be

You left the pool in a rush, every step feeling heavier than the last. Avoiding Anakin had become a survival instinct. You muttered something about a headache to Luke, your voice barely steady, and excused yourself, desperate for escape. Anakin had suggested walking you to your cabin, concern evident in his eyes, but you’d refused—your heart pounding, your resolve teetering. You had to get away before you slipped further, before the line you shouldn’t cross blurred beyond recognition.

In the sanctuary of your cabin, you stripped off the bikini and stepped into the cold shower. The icy water hit your skin like a shock, chasing away the warmth he’d left lingering. You lathered soap onto your body, each motion deliberate, as if scrubbing away the memory of his touch—the way his hands had grazed your thighs, the way his eyes had traced every curve.

You closed your eyes, letting the water cascade over your face, but the memories were relentless. His rough, calloused hands on your skin. That low, gravelly voice that curled around your senses, sending shivers down your spine. Heat pooled in your core, an ache that refused to be washed away.

Stop it. You forced your eyes open, breath unsteady. This was dangerous—a free fall with no safety net. You couldn’t let yourself get lost in these thoughts.

Stepping out of the shower, you wrapped yourself in a towel, needing something—anything—to pull you back to reality. Grabbing your phone, you opened the notes app and started a list. Pros and cons. Maybe seeing it in black and white would make it easier to resist.

Cons: he’s married, he’s Luke’s father, he’s much older. It’s reckless. Dangerous. Wrong.

Each point was a red flag, glaring and impossible to ignore. Rationally, you knew this. But your heart pounded, a traitorous rhythm that whispered other truths.

Pros: the way his eyes lingered on you, seeing more than anyone else, the warmth of his touch, the strength in his hands. That smile—dangerous, disarming, a weapon you had no defense against and the way your body responded, drawn to him like a magnet, every nerve alive and yearning.

You stared at the list, fingers trembling. The cons screamed caution, logic, self-preservation. But the pros—the pros were written in fire, each memory a brand on your skin, a temptation that refused to be ignored.

You can’t let this happen. But deep down, a darker, quieter voice whispered back, What if it already has?

_____________

“Come on, it’ll be nice…” Leia stood insistently at your cabin door, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe the massage will even help with your headache. You know, sometimes it’s more psychological than physical—stress and all that.” Her voice softened thoughtfully, her genuine concern shining through.

Beside her, Padmé nodded, the white terrycloth robe draped elegantly over her frame. “If you don’t like it, you can leave early,” she added gently, her tone soothing. “Just try to relax a little. You seem tense.”

Her kindness cut through you like a knife. The warmth in her voice, the sincerity in her eyes—it felt like a cruel reminder of the line you’d already crossed in your mind. Padmé wasn’t some distant, untouchable figure; she was right here, extending her hand to you, offering comfort. A good woman. A devoted wife. A loving mother.

How could you do this to her? The bitter taste of guilt churned in your stomach, rising like bile. She didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve the betrayal lurking in the corners of your heart, the passion you’d allowed to bloom for her husband.

It had been easier when you’d painted her as unreachable, cold—a distant figure, more concept than person. A political figurehead. A symbol. But now? Now she was real, flesh and blood, standing before you with empathy in her eyes and concern in her voice. Each word, each gentle look, felt like a condemnation.

“I don’t know, I…” The words barely escaped, your voice a whisper, cracking under the weight of shame. The air felt heavy, thick with unspoken truths. You couldn’t pretend everything was okay, not when the guilt was a stone in your chest, pressing down, suffocating.

Warm tears blurred your vision before you even realized you were crying. Padmé’s eyes widened, her brow furrowing with concern. She stepped forward, her hands resting gently on your shoulders, guiding you into an embrace.

You clung to her, your sobs muffled against the soft fabric of her robe. Her touch was comforting, maternal—everything you didn’t deserve. Each tear that fell was laced with guilt, each sob a silent confession. She held you, whispering reassurances, her kindness only deepening the ache inside you.

“Why are you crying, dear?” she asked softly, pulling back just enough to search your face.

The lie slipped out before you could stop it. “I… I miss my parents.” The words tasted hollow, but Padmé’s smile was understanding, her eyes filled with a compassion that twisted the knife deeper.

A few minutes later, the three of you walked together to the spa, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken truths. Leia and Padmé, already dressed in their robes, went straight to the massage area. You watched them, the weight of your guilt pressing down, a constant reminder of the betrayal you carried.

An employee handed you a robe, gesturing toward the changing room down the hall. Each step felt heavier than the last, the simple fabric in your hands a tangible symbol of the role you played—the lie you lived.

The mirror in the changing room reflected not just your image but the conflict etched in every line of your face. This trip was meant to be an escape, a simple act of kindness for a friend. But here, in the quiet moments between words, it was becoming a battle you weren’t sure you could win.

Should you turn left or right? You hesitated, brow furrowed, as you left the locker room. The ship felt like a maze, each identical hallway blurring into the next. It must be the last door at the end. You convinced yourself, hands stuffed into the pockets of your fluffy robe, heart pounding with an unease you couldn’t shake.

The moment you pushed open the fogged glass door, a wave of heat enveloped you. The air was thick, oppressive, making your cheeks flush from the contrast with the cooler hallway. Your eyes scanned the room—large wooden benches lining the walls, steam rising in ethereal curls.

This isn’t the massage room, you realized, your pulse quickening. There should have been stretchers, calming music, not this suffocating heat. You turned to leave, but the sound of approaching footsteps froze you.

Anakin.

He stood there, a white towel wrapped low around his waist, another draped around his neck. Droplets of sweat glistened on his skin, catching the flickering light. His hair, damp and tousled, framed those piercing blue eyes that locked onto yours.

Panic surged. You spun around, hands fumbling with the door handle. It wouldn’t budge. Desperation mounted as you pounded against the fogged glass.

“You’re going to hurt yourself. Stop.” His voice was calm, almost soft, but the weight of it made you freeze. His fingers closed around your wrist, gentle but firm. “They lock it for the duration of the sauna,” he explained.

You jerked your arm away, as if his touch scalded you more than the heat. Crossing your arms tightly over your chest, you avoided his gaze, staring at the floor instead.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me for twenty minutes, angel,” Anakin murmured, his tone laced with something dangerous. He took a step closer. “Are you sure you want to spend that time sulking over there?”

You shrank back, clutching your robe tighter. “Don’t touch me,” you whispered, voice trembling with something between anger and fear.

His smile didn’t falter. That infuriating, knowing glint remained in his eyes. “You didn’t complain about my touch earlier today,” he said, the words a sharp jab, dragging the memory out into the open.

“Is everything a fucking joke to you?” The words escaped in a rush, your voice raw, quivering with anger and shame.

Anakin raised his hands, his expression a mix of confusion and defiance. “Wow, angel. What the hell bit you?”

You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow in the thick air. Moving past him, you sank onto the sauna bench, eyes fixed on the floor. “Why?” The question was barely more than a whisper.

He frowned, pacing, frustration etched into every line of his body. “You’re going to have to give me more than that.”

“Padmé.” The name was a raw wound, guilt twisting in your chest. “She doesn’t deserve this. She’s… she’s kind. She’s everything.” Your voice cracked, the words a confession and an accusation all at once.

Anakin’s jaw clenched, his steps faltering. “Oh, so you’re feeling guilty, and you decided to take it out on me?” His voice was sharp, defensive, but there was something else beneath it—a fracture, a hint of something deeper.

Tears pricked your eyes. “You don’t deserve her.” The words were out before you could stop them, trembling with conviction.

He stopped pacing, exhaling a strangled sigh. For a moment, he stared at the door, as if the answers lay beyond it. “You don’t know shit,” he muttered, frustration threading through his voice.

You stood, anger and shame boiling over. “I know you shouldn’t have cheated on her.” You pointed a shaking finger at his chest, each word a stone thrown, heavy with accusation.

Anakin’s eyes flashed, something raw and dangerous surfacing. “Look, angel, I didn’t do it alone.” His voice dropped, low and rough. “In fact, you seemed pretty eager at the time.”

The truth of it hit you like a punch, leaving you breathless. His words weren’t just a defense—they were a mirror, reflecting the darkness you were trying so hard to avoid. You’re just as guilty. The realization twisted inside you, a storm you couldn’t escape.

Before you could stop yourself, your hand collided with his cheek, the sharp crack echoing in the steamy room. Shock and guilt hit you immediately, your eyes wide, breath shallow. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” you mumbled, stumbling back. But before you could escape, Anakin’s fingers wrapped around your wrist, his grip firm, knuckles white.

“Do you want to know the truth?” His voice was low, rough, the words simmering with something raw and dangerous. “Do you want to know the fucked-up truth about the ‘happy family’?” His face was so close to yours that your noses almost touched, the heat between you both stifling in more ways than one.

You swallowed hard, locked in his intense gaze, fear and something else—something thrilling—warring in your mind. He let go of your wrist, the sudden release making you stumble, falling onto the bench.

Anakin sighed, running a hand through his damp curls, his eyes distant. He sank onto the bench beside you, the space between you filled with a heavy silence. He didn’t look at you; instead, his gaze fixed on some point in the past only he could see.

“Padmé was my first love.” His voice was quiet, a mix of nostalgia and sadness. “I met her in school. She was a few years ahead of me, barely noticed I existed, but I swore I’d marry that girl one day.” A small, bitter smile played at his lips. “I met her again in college. I was nineteen. It was like those years had only made the feelings stronger. We thought we had everything figured out.”

You watched the way his fingers twisted together, the vulnerability in his posture unfamiliar. He was always so controlled, so intense. This was different—raw, unguarded.

“I proposed on our third date. Stupid, right?” He laughed, but it was hollow. “We got married that year. We were barely adults, but the love… it felt invincible. We thought we had our lives in our hands.”

You listened, your heart aching at the weight in his voice, the way his words carried the residue of dreams gone wrong.

“I joined the army right after. Months apart, letters are our only connection. It was hard, but it was worth it, our love worth it. Padmé got pregnant, and when I found out I was going to be a father... It was the best day of my life.” His eyes flickered with a light that dimmed as he continued. “I left the army when the twins were born. Padmé had just been elected, and I always knew she was always going to outshine me… Her future would be brighter”

His knee brushed against yours, the touch grounding, almost accidental. Yet it felt like a tether, holding you in the moment.

“The first few years were... perfect. Like an eternal honeymoon. I had everything I’d ever dreamed of. The wife. The kids. It felt like nothing could go wrong.” His voice faltered. “But it did. Slowly. Quietly. I don’t even know when we fell out of love. Was it the mornings waking up to an empty bed? The nights she worked late, barely noticing me anymore? I felt like I was falling down her priority list”

He laughed, a broken sound. “Maybe it was my fault. My jealousy of some stranger she met while I was gone. The arguments. The things I said that I can’t take back. I tried, but… she cried. And it was always my fault.”

You didn’t say anything, each word settling like a stone in your chest. Your heart ached—not just for him, but for Padmé, for the ghost of the love they’d lost.

“Leia and Luke were ten when we finally sat down and had a real conversation. We laid it all out. Everything.” He paused, his hands clenching into fists. “We should have divorced. We both knew it. But Padmé had just been elected to the Senate. She was already under scrutiny, criticized just for being a woman in power. If we divorced her career could have collapsed.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. This wasn’t what you’d expected. The image of their perfect marriage crumbled in front of you, replaced by something real, something flawed.

“We stayed together. Not out of love, but because we couldn’t afford to fall apart.” He finally looked at you, his eyes raw, haunted. “That’s the truth.”

You opened your mouth, searching for words, but nothing came. What could you say? He’d laid bare a part of himself you’d never seen, and the weight of it pressed down on you both. The guilt you felt twisted deeper, sharper, yet there was something else—a desperate need to comfort him, to ease his pain.

Your hand hovered near his, hesitant, the boundary between what you wanted and what you should do blurring. “Anakin…” you whispered, your voice soft, unsure.

He didn’t pull away, but the space between you was heavy with everything unspoken. In that moment, all you wanted was to bridge the gap, to offer solace. But you knew the line was thin, the risk too great. So you stayed there, the silence wrapping around you both, an unsteady truce in the heat of the sauna.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” The words slipped out, barely more than a whisper. Your hand rested on his, a tentative connection.

Anakin’s eyes softened, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. “It’s not like we go around telling people.” There was a bitterness in his voice, a weight beneath the casual words.

You swallowed, the questions swirling in your mind too heavy to hold back. “But how? It’s been years. You’ve been married for over twenty years… How did you make it work?” Confusion and curiosity tangled in your voice, the pieces of his story not fitting the perfect image you’d held of his family.

He tilted his head, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips. “You’re a curious little thing, aren’t you?” he teased, his tone lighter, but his eyes held a depth that pulled you in. He turned your hand, his fingers sliding between yours, the contact sending a jolt through you.

His voice dropped, quieter now. “We’re married on paper, but that’s all it is. Separate bedrooms. Separate lives. We stay married because… well, it’s easier that way. For Padmé’s career, for the image we’ve built. We can’t marry other people, but we… find companionship where we can.”

Your mouth fell open in surprise, the confession hitting you like a wave. This wasn’t the story you’d imagined.

Anakin’s expression was unreadable as he continued, his voice calm, almost detached. “I’ve had my fair share of… casual encounters. And Padmé has had hers. We have an understanding.” He paused, his eyes searching yours, as if waiting for judgment.

The words felt surreal. “You just… ignore it? The other people?”

A flicker of something—pain, maybe regret—crossed his face. “We don’t talk about it. We don’t need to. It’s none of my business what she does, just like it’s none of hers who I spend my nights with.” He exhaled, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “I’m sure she and her secretary, Sabé, have something. I’ve never asked. It’s… easier that way.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken thoughts. You tried to process it, to reconcile the man before you with the image of the family you’d known. There was a sadness in his voice, an emptiness that tugged at something deep inside you.

Your thumb brushed gently over his knuckles, the gesture instinctive, an attempt to offer comfort. “That… sounds lonely.”

His eyes met yours, the mask slipping just enough for you to see the truth beneath. “It is.” The admission was soft, raw. A single word that held years of quiet suffering, of nights spent in an empty bed, of dreams that had slowly unraveled.

Your heart ached for him, for Padmé, for the fragile facade they’d built and maintained for so long. You wanted to say something, anything, to bridge the gap between you. But the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, you sat there, your hand still in his, the heat of the sauna wrapping around you both. The silence was heavy, but it wasn’t empty. It was filled with everything you couldn’t say—the understanding, the guilt, the unspoken connection that pulled you toward him, even when you knew you shouldn’t.

[its-avalon-08]

it all fell down (ln4)

part2

multipart story! prev part3

✦ pairing - lando norris x female reader

summary : lando norris and y/n were friends for 20 years, fell in love and dated for five. until it all fell down. they left each others lives abruptly and never spoke again, until they met again in the most unexpected way. can they find their way back or will certain scars never heal?

Anna had always been the glue that held their group together. She had been there through the highs and lows, a steadfast friend to both Lando and Y/N. When Lando and Y/N were a couple, Anna was the third musketeer along with her boyfriend, sharing countless dinners, vacations, and memories with them. Even after the abrupt end of their relationship, Anna managed to remain close to both, somehow balancing her friendship without taking sides.

Now, Anna was celebrating her engagement to Liam, a charming lawyer she had met a year ago. The engagement party was set in a stunning hall overlooking the Mediterranean, the perfect backdrop for a night of celebration.

Lando arrived early, looking dapper in a tailored navy suit. The hall was buzzing with excitement as guests mingled and enjoyed the festive atmosphere. He made his way to the bar, ordering a drink and scanning the room for familiar faces.

"Hey, Lando!" Anna called out, beaming as she walked over to him. She looked radiant in her elegant dress, her happiness evident in every step.

"Anna, congratulations!" Lando said, pulling her into a warm hug. "I can't believe this day is finally here. I's so bloody excited for you."

"Thank you! I’m so glad you could make it," Anna replied, her eyes shining. "It's been such a whirlwind, but everything has turned out perfectly."

"I wouldn’t miss it for the world," Lando said, raising his glass. "To you and Liam and alot more beer!"

As they clinked glasses, Anna's expression turned slightly hesitant. "I wanted to tell you that Y/N isn't coming tonight," she said gently, her voice careful. "I know it might have been awkward, so you don’t have to worry about that."

Lando nodded, a mixture of relief and a pang of something he couldn't quite place. "Thanks for letting me know. I'm just here to celebrate you."

Meanwhile, across town, Y/N was finishing her final touches. She wore a stunning emerald green dress that highlighted her eyes, her hair cascading in soft waves. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the evening ahead.

"Ready?" Claire asked, stepping into the room.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Y/N replied, forcing a smile.

As they arrived at the venue, Y/N felt a mix of nerves and anticipation. Anna had assured her that Lando wouldn't be there, but the memories associated with their friendship were hard to shake. She squared her shoulders and stepped into the hall, determined to focus on Anna and Liam.

Lando was deep in conversation with George when it happened. He was in the middle of taking a sip of his drink when he looked up and saw her. His eyes locked onto a familiar figure standing by the entrance, her silhouette as hauntingly familiar as it was devastatingly unexpected. Y/N.

The woman he had loved fiercely and lost abruptly, the ghost of a five-year love that had burned brightly then crumbled to ash, now stood only a few feet away. Her laughter, unmistakably hers, cut through the din, bringing back memories of stolen kisses and whispered promises. Lando's heart pounded as a thousand unspoken words and countless emotions surged within him. His heart was beginning to race, and then he caught the familiar scent of her perfume, a haunting echo of nights spent wrapped in her embrace. The years had changed them both, but the sight of her after so long hit him like a tidal wave, crashing over the carefully built walls around his heart.

He choked on his drink, sputtering as George patted his back. "Mate, you alright?"

Lando nodded, eyes still fixed on Y/N. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just went down the wrong pipe."

George followed his gaze and his eyes widened. "Well, this just got interesting."

Y/N scanned the room, her eyes catching sight of Anna almost immediately. She started to make her way over when she felt a pair of eyes on her. Turning slightly, her heart skipped a beat as she saw Lando staring at her from across the room. For a moment, everything else faded away—the music, the chatter, the laughter—leaving only the two of them locked in a silent, poignant gaze.

"Y/N, you made it!" Anna's voice broke the spell, pulling her back to the present. She turned to see her friend approaching with a bright smile.

"Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for anything love," Y/N replied, hugging Anna tightly. "You look so amazing."

"So do you," Anna said, glancing between Y/N and Lando. "I’m so glad you're both here."

Y/N forced a smile, trying to keep her composure. "Wouldn't miss it."

As the evening wore on, both Lando and Y/N did their best to avoid each other, each painfully aware of the other's presence. But in a room full of memories, it was impossible to forget.

taglist ---> @misspygmypie @kol67-t @sltwins @f1fantasys @sarx164

comment to get added to taglist

[miabbh]

The bet 🎮

Live Streamer!Baekhyun x reader

Synopsis: Joining Baekhyun's live-streams was just a coincidence, but it quickluy became a tradition to friday nights. You grew closer at each session and the constant teasing and back and forth were, together with good gameplay, what kept the chat going. Tonight, however, a bet: whoever of the two lost would have to kneel for the other. And perhaps in both meanings.

Genre: a tiny bit of comedy and playfull banter, friends to lovers, semi-explicit! (Implicit oral sex – fem!receiving)

a gift to @baekhyunsbestie

You weren't sure how it had come to this—streaming regularly with Baekhyun, sharing late-night gaming sessions that stretched until dawn, even meeting up for coffee and arcade sessions when time allowed.

It all started with that one game where you, just a regular viewer back then, joined his lobby on a whim and ended up taking him by surprise with your skills.

Since that night, he'd insisted on playing with you more often, and his viewers couldn't get enough of your dynamic.

You still remember those early streams, the way your voice trembled as you spoke, heart pounding every time he said your name. But week after week, you grew bolder. It helped that Baekhyun was just as supportive off-stream as he was playful on-screen, sending you gifts—new gear, accessories, even a figure of your favourite character—as "thank-yous" for the hours you put into streaming together.

And when you finally gave in to his fans' demands to start your own channel, things quickly escalated. The teasing had become something of a tradition, and now, with your face on camera, it added a whole new layer to the back-and-forth.

Tonight was no different. You settled into your chair, slipped on your headset, and adjusted the pillows behind your back before taking a sip of water. A familiar thrill coursed through you as you hit the "Go Live" button.

Baekhyun's voice greeted you as soon as you entered the voice chat, casual but edged with a challenge.

"Ah, there you are! I was starting to think you were too scared to show up." he teased.

The moment he spoke, your chat buzzed with activity.

[Chat]

dorimo63: it's going down tonight

daniudean: Baekhyun sounds cocky as always

inautop: betting 20 she wins. hes overdue for some humility

His smirk practically radiated through the screen, an insufferable yet irresistible look that made something in your chest tighten. And then there was the hair—dark, tousled curls that were new, different. You blinked, momentarily distracted.

"Scared?" you shot back, recovering quickly. "Of what—letting you lose again?" You paused, letting your gaze flick over his disheveled hair and black t-shirt, a teasing grin curling your lips. "Got a whole new look just to kneel for me?"

Baekhyun chuckled, his fingers tapping on his mouse.

"Someone sounds confident tonight. Did you finally get some practice in?" He glanced at his second monitor, where chat comments were flying by. 'Or did you spend all your time thinking up what to say when you’re on your knees?"

He reads a donation out loud.

[Donation Notification: 15 from peteisbetter]

baekhyunie prepare to kneel. we all know shes got you beat

"Got me beat? Oh chat, I thought you loved me!"

You rolled your eyes, letting out a small laugh.

"Oh, please. They're just worried about your knees, Baek. I don’t think they've bent for anyone in a while."

The subscribe alerts appears on your screen; the chat picking up on the tension like a spark to dry tinder.

someonion4: OMG DID SHE JUST SAY THAT?!

mistahneg: OUR QUEEN DOESN'T HOLD BACK

lunatishroom: are they flirting already

someonion4: @lunatishroom they are

Baekhyun's grin widened, his tone dropping lower as he leaned closer to his mic.

"You'd be surprised how flexible I can be. But I guess you'll need to work hard to find out."

There was a hint of something darker behind his playful tone, a glint in his eyes that made your breath hitch.

Heat flushed your cheeks at the innuendo, and you quickly cleared your throat, praying the mic didn’t catch the change in your breathing.

"Don't get ahead of yourself." you said, voice steady despite the racing of your pulse. "I'll make sure you have plenty of time to think about what went wrong while you’re down there."

His eyes drifted back to the game screen, and he hummed, almost as if you’d piqued his curiosity.

"I like it when you talk tough. It's cute.'

The game loaded, and you both focused on the first match, fingers flying over the keys as the tension built. The rounds were close, but you could already predict his moves, that aggressive style you'd come to know so well. He always pushed too far, always assumed you’d fall for his tricks.

It was all about patience, waiting for that moment when he'd leave himself vulnerable. It was his downfall before, and it would be again if you timed your moves right.

Your viewers could sense the shift in the air, the tension mounting as you traded kills and comebacks. The chat erupted after each close call, donations rolling in with messages that only added to the pressure.

At the end of the round, you grabbed your water bottle quickly, looking at the comments during the 10 second countdown.

inautop: that last shot was insane!

dalidalidoo: if he loses, I'm clipping his reaction

someonion4: Baekhyun's sweating, I can see it

You smirk.

"He's sweating already?" You ask to chat, but obviously he heard.

"Who's sweating?" You hear him ask. "Certainly not me. I'm not going to give that pleasure of a view to so many people…" he pauses. "My skin is hydrated, chat, it's not sweat."

[cutepuppy05 subscribed for 4 months]

he says that but he's been sweating since he started the live and went to play with Channie. you got him nervous, you are at an advantage

The rounds flew by, each one bringing you closer to the final score.

You could hear Baekhyun's breaths on the mic, steady but quickening, and it felt almost as if he were sitting right there with you—so close you could feel the heat from his body. The tension wasn't just about the game anymore; it was a thread pulled tight between the two of you, with every playful taunt and low laugh sending a spark up your spine.

You've been physically close a few times. For some reason, there really is this thing where some people just emanate significant heat despite being still. And the times you were by Baekhyun's side, warmth radiated from him, along with the mature perfume he wore. And when you still managed to carry that scent home, you spent a little more time with your coat on.

Imagining him, by your side, playing with you in such a frenetic way made something to you.

You almost lost, the screen corners in red as you came back to reality. You had the special attack available and you just used it.

You managed to catch him overextending, the same mistake he always made. With a precise shot, the victory flashed across your screen. You grinned, unable to hold back the satisfaction in your voice.

"Looks like someone is getting on his kneeeesss~!"

The chat exploded as you exit the game and opened the discord call.

Baekhyun groaned. You could see him leaning back in his chair and dragging a hand through his hair.

"Alright, alright." he conceded, a playful grin curling at his lips. "You win. A deal's a deal. Are you seeing me?"

"Yes! Go ahead!"

With exaggerated slowness, he pushed his chair back. He pulled his shorts up a little and dropped to one knee, his gaze fixed on the camera as if staring straight at you through the screen.

"What is your command, oh victorious one?"

His tone sent a shiver through you, a reminder that even when he lost, he somehow still held the upper hand in the way he made you feel.

You were momentarily at a loss for words, the sight of him kneeling before you—not just in the screen, but almost in the intimacy of your shared space—catching you off guard.

"I think you owe me a meal." you managed to say, though your voice sounded softer than you intended. "Next time we meet, you're treating."

Baekhyun's eyes flicked to the chat, his smile widening.

"That's all? I was expecting something more… demanding." The way he said the last word, voice dipping low, made your skin flush.

[Donation Notification: 4.99 from someonion4]

damn Baekhyun on his knees???? looks like someones living out their wildest dreams tonight! 😂👀 You got him, queen

You cleared your throat, forcing a steady reply despite the heat rising in your cheeks.

"Oh, don't worry, Baek. I'll save the real demands for when you're actually at my feet."

The chat lost it.

marihop: OMG SHE WENT THERE

snwmoveme: baekhyun's face is priceless

smarterbb: this is the best stream ever

He let out a laugh, rising to his feet with an amused glint in his eyes.

"I guess I'll just have to win the rematch, then." he said, his gaze lingering on the camera a beat longer before shifting back to the game. "And when I do, you better be ready to keep your promises."

You could hear the playful threat in his tone, and it sent a thrill through you.

"We'll see, Baekhyun. We’ll see."

The conversation drifted back to safer topics, but the electric undercurrent between you lingered. As you logged off and the live stream ended, you couldn't help but wonder what would happen the next time you saw him—when there were no cameras, no chat, just the two of you, and all the things left unsaid.

The silence that settled between you after the stream felt different, more intimate. Without the buzz of the chat and the flood of notifications, there was just the two of you and the quiet, steady sound of his breathing on the other end.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, his voice softer now, like he was speaking just for you.

"Huh?" You blinked, glancing up at the screen. He was looking at you with that calm expression, his beautiful perm hair still slightly tousled from the last few hours, eyes warm with the lingering glow of your victory.

He chuckled, the sound low and easy.

"You know… food. I could pick something up. It's kind of late, but I'm sure I can find a place that's still open. It's not the dinner. Or lunch. Whatever you want. I'm just hungry, you must be too.'

Your stomach growled at the thought of food. It would even be nice to eat anything.

The idea was tempting—him showing up with takeout, eating together... The thought of seeing him in person again, especially after that charged bet, sent a thrill through you. But you know you wouldn't hold back if you see him now.

"You don’t have to…" you started, but the words died on your lips. Your heart wins pretty often. Biting your lower lip, a suggestion spilled out. "Or… you could come over. We could eat together, if you want."

There was a beat of silence, then you saw his lips twitch into a small smile, his eyes narrowing with curiosity.

"Are you inviting me to your place, sweetheart?" He dragged out your name in that playful tone he used whenever he was trying to get a rise out of you.

You felt your cheeks warm, but there was no point in backing down now.

“I mean, I did win tonight." you said with a little tilt to your head. "It's only fair you deliver my victory dinner in person, right?"

Baekhyun let out a breathy laugh.

"Fair enough." He leaned closer to the screen, his eyes darkening with something unspoken. 'Send me your adress, I know the building but I don't wanna ring on someone else's door."

You nodded, your heart picking up speed as you sent him the directions.

"Be careful, a few of my neighbours watch your live streams."

"Uhhhh! Fans?"

"Viewers."

"Yeah, yeah! See you soon!"

When you finally ended the call, the reality of what you'd just invited him to do sank in. You glanced around your apartment, quickly tidying up, your mind racing with anticipation and a slight twinge of nerves.

It wasn't the first time you'd hung out with him in person, but something about tonight felt different. Maybe it was the bet. Maybe it was the way his voice dropped when he accepted your invitation. Whatever it was, you couldn't ignore the spark that had been growing between you for weeks.

But it was about the bet. You can't lie. Kneeling down always had the second intention on your mind. And seeing him and hearing him today made something to you. You were weak this last few days…

Twenty minutes later, there was a message, telling you he arrived. You opened the building's door, and soon after you heard a knock at your door. You opened it to find Baekhyun standing there, a bag of takeout in one hand and that same amused, knowing look in his brown eyes.

"Victory delivery, as requested." he said, his voice carrying a touch of humor. "I bought a little bit of everything of side dishes, there was only one dose of ramen by this hour so I need to compensate."

You smiled soflty, noticing him. A ladder jacket, the black t-shirt and that white pants he wore the first time you joined his lobby, replacing the short from earlier. Damn.

He stepped inside as you moved to the side, glancing around your place as he slipped off his shoes.

"Nice setup you've got here."

"Thanks." you replied, shutting the door behind him. Your voice got a bit more quiet. Maybe it was a bit too much…

The air between you felt charged, even as you made small talk while setting out the food. He took off his jacket, strong arms in contrast to the black t-shirt.

It was as if the bet hadn't really ended, just shifted into another form—one with softer words, quieter looks, but no less intense.

You took a seat on the couch after picking a few drinks from the fridge, with Baekhyun settling in beside you. He began opening the paper bags, his features more serious than usual, illuminated by the light from the TV and the lamps that you used to leave on so as not to leave the apartment completely dark. The silence was heavy and thick with the kind of tension you'd been dancing around for months.

You turned your head slightly to find him already looking at you, his gaze tracing the curve of your face, lingering on your lips.

"You know…" he said softly, setting the food boxes on the coffee table. "I don't think I've ever thought we would be here. Especially because I asked for a bet... honestly, I've never been so... happy about losing either."

You felt your breath catch.

"Yeah?" you replied, your voice coming out quieter than you intended.

He nods, still looking into your face. You couldn't look away either, even if you wanted to. Your mouth betrayed you again.

"So, you don't mind kneeling to me again?"

His smile was slow, his eyes dark as he leaned in closer, his hand grabbing one another as if to contain himself.

"You want to see me on my knees so bad?" he asked, his hoarse. "For you?" He steps out of the couch, kneeling in front of you.

Your eyes wide and you swallow dry.

The space between you seemed to disappear, and before you knew it, his hands were on your tights, just above the knee. A shiver runned down your spine.

"Baekhyun…" and he lifted himself, his lips brushed against yours, a soft, tentative touch that sparked into something more.

You closed the distance, pressing deeper into the kiss, and felt his hand slide up to cup your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheek as he tilted your head slightly to deepen the connection.

Your own hands moved to his head, holding it, your thumbs tapping where his jaw meets his cheeks. His lips were much better than you ever thought: soft, a bit swollen, so, so truly kissable.

The kiss was a slow burn, a mix of months of flirtation and nights spent just inches from where you were now. When you finally broke apart, you were both breathless, the tension that had been simmering between you finally spilling over.

"You know…" he murmured, his hands again playing with your skin, fingertips tracing a line along your arm, sending shivers down your spine. "If you let me… really get on my knees for you…"

The way he said it—low, teasing, but with an undercurrent of heat—sent a rush of warmth through your entire body, settling deep between your legs. You gasped softly, caught off guard by the intensity of it, your breath hitching as you locked eyes with him. His gaze was dark, his expression far more serious than the playful tone of his voice suggested.

He wasn't joking.

The room suddenly felt smaller, the air thick with tension. You could feel the steady thrum of your pulse in your ears, your body responding to the unspoken invitation in his words. You swallowed, unsure whether to laugh off his comment or let it hang between you, tempting you further.

Baekhyun's fingers slid down to your wrist, brushing over your pulse point before his hand slipped lower, gently resting on your thigh. His touch was light but deliberate, testing the waters, waiting to see how you'd respond. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek as he whispered.

"I've been thinking about it for a while now, you know? Losing to you. Kneeling for you." His lips brushed your ear, and your whole body tensed, anticipation tightening your chest. "I probably wouldn't have had the balls to ask you this if I had won."

You couldn't deny the pull between you anymore, the way it had been growing with every game, every late-night conversation. What had started as teasing had evolved into something deeper, more intense. You had felt it the moment he walked into your apartment tonight—the way his eyes lingered a little longer, the way his voice dropped when he spoke just for you.

"Baek" you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. You weren't sure what you were asking him for—for him to stop, to go on, to push you further into this moment.

He tilted his head slightly, his lips hovering just over yours, his hand tightening on your thigh.

"Just say the word." he murmured, his breath ghosting over your mouth. "And I'll do it."

Your heart raced, the warmth between your legs now a steady ache, and you found yourself leaning into him, closing the last sliver of space between you. Your lips brushed against his, hesitant at first, but then he deepened the kiss, his hand sliding higher on your thigh, fingers grazing the hem of your shirt.

The kiss turned urgent, your hands finding his shoulders, pulling him closer as the tension that had been building for so long finally snapped. His fingers slipped under your shirt, warm against your skin, and you gasped into his mouth, pressing your body against his.

Baekhyun groaned softly, breaking the kiss just long enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath ragged.

"Tell me to stop if we're crossing a line you don't want to be crossed." he whispered, his voice strained, his hand stilling on your waist. But the way his lips hovered near yours, the way his body pressed against you, made it clear he didn't want to keep this as they were.

Neither do you.

Instead, you cupped his face, guiding him back to you, your lips crashing against his with a hunger that mirrored his own. His hands moved with purpose now, sliding under your shirt, pulling you closer until you were practically straddling him. The weight of his body beneath yours, the feel of his hands roaming over your skin, sent waves of heat through you, every nerve alight with sensation.

Baekhyun's lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as his hands gripped your hips, guiding you closer to the edge of the couch. The soft moan that escaped your lips only seemed to spur him on, his fingers digging into your waist as his lips returned to yours, kissing you with a desperation that matched your own.

"I want to see you lose that control you always have." he whispered against your lips, his hands sliding under the waistband of your pants. His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body reacting instinctively to the command in his voice, the heat of his touch.

You felt yourself sinking further into him, giving in to the moment as he shifted beneath you, his eyes dark with desire.

And as his fingers tightened their grip, pulling you closer, you realized that you didn't mind losing to him either—not like this, not tonight.

Your pants disappeared in an instant. The sound of denim sliding down your legs was the only thing you noticed before grabbing him by his brown hair and guiding him where you wanted him.

He chuckled, but then looked to where you guided him; the expression became almost ethereal—he licked his lips, exhaled exasperatedly, and his eyes nearly closed. Each sound more like a quiet groan, as though he was just barely holding back.

Baekhyun's tongue darted out to wet his lips, his chest rising and falling as his breath came quicker. His gaze swept back up to meet yours, and you saw the hunger there—raw and unrestrained, like he was teetering on the edge of something he could no longer control. The weight of his desire crashed over you, your own breath catching in your throat as heat pooled between your legs, leaving you with a yearning ache.

His hand slid up your thigh, trembling just slightly as his fingertips grazed your skin.

"God, you're…" he murmured, his voice trailing off, lost in the moment. It was as if words had failed him, the intensity of his reaction leaving him almost dazed. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if to steady himself, before his gaze locked onto yours again—this time filled with a fire that sent another wave of heat through you.

You gasped softly, the sound escaping before you could contain it, and his eyes flashed in response. The corner of his mouth curled into a slow, knowing smile, his hand tightening ever so slightly as if grounding himself.

"You like that?" he whispered, his voice dropping to a gravelly tone that made your pulse quicken. "The way I'm looking at you? To the most beautiful and mesmerizing and sexy creature I've ever seen, so comfortable for me?"

Your throat tightened as you struggled to find your voice, your skin prickling under the intensity of his stare. You didn't trust yourself to speak, so you nodded instead, the motion small and almost tentative. The way he looked at you made you feel bare and exposed, like he could see every inch of you, every hidden desire you’d tried to keep at bay.

His other hand trailed along your jaw, tilting your head up just enough to bring your lips closer again, teasingly.

"I'm not just going to look, you know. I've done it enough already." he murmured, his breath warm against your lips. "I'm going to taste. Touch." He leaned in, and his next words were a low, heated promise. "And you're going to feel every bit of it, love it, and drown in pleasure because of me."

The anticipation made you tremble, your body already reacting to his touch. His hand slipped further up, pressing firmly against you in a way that drew a sharp, breathless moan from your throat.

He grinned, clearly pleased with the effect he had on you, his fingers moving with an agonizing slowness that made your skin tingle with anticipation.

"Don't tease." You say, holding his hair between your finger.

"I don't want to take too big a step." He replies quietly, but his head moves closer as you pull him.

"Strange. You're always the impatient one." you managed to say, your voice coming out as a breathy taunt as you shifted, one of your legs lifting and settling onto his left shoulder. The movement was deliberate, even yourself was surprised how natural it seemed.

His gaze flickered down to where your leg rested, then back up to your eyes, his smile turning wickedly playful.

"Maybe I'm savoring the moment." he murmured, his hand sliding up your thigh, fingers curling around the curve of your leg as he steadied you. "After all, there is only one first time." He leaned in, his breath warm against your skin, trailing a path up your inner thigh, the closeness of his lips making you shiver with anticipation.

His free hand moved to grip your hip, keeping you firmly in place as he tilted his head to brush his lips against the sensitive skin just above your knee, his gaze never leaving yours. The contrast of his gentleness and the intensity in his eyes sent a shudder through you, your pulse quickening with each teasing touch.

"Ah…" he murmured, voice roughened with desire "I could take my time. Make you beg for it." His lips brushed over your skin again, the heat of his breath making you gasp. He glanced up, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and hunger. "But you won, I need to give you what you want."

Your fingers threaded through his hair, urging him closer, your breaths coming quicker.

"Or maybe I want to see you take your time with me and try to keep it together." you shot back, a defiant smile curling your lips. The words seemed to ignite something in him, his grip tightening on your thigh.

"Careful what you wish for." he said, his tone dark and laced with promise. Then he dipped his head lower, and the slow burn of his touch quickly became a consuming flame. "I may be more patient than you think."

His tongue played with you softly, making a loud, wet sound. He took your right leg, placing it on his shoulder as he pulled you by the hip, burying his face in you like a starved man, kneeling down, on your living room, with those white pants hugging his thighs.

[the-offside-rule]

Lando Norris (McLaren) - Moving Home

Requested: yes

Prompt: Moving in with Lando x

Warnings: nope

Lando gazed at the picturesque English countryside as they walked hand in hand up the pebbled driveway. The prospect of moving back to England with his girlfriend, Y/n, was an exciting one. He had missed the rolling hills and the vibrant culture and in all honesty, Monaco had gotten been a bit boring after a while. He remember how he tried convincing Y/n to just move to Monaco and not worry about uni since he said he would take care of her forever, but she was not going to just give up on university that easily.

As they approached a house with a "For Sale" sign, Lando couldn't help but feel a spark of anticipation. The real estate agent, a friendly man named James, greeted them with a warm smile. "Hello there! You must be Lando and Y/n. Very lovely to meet you." James said, shaking their hands. Lando smiled. "Nice to meet you, James. We're looking forward to finding the perfect place." He said, holding his hand out for Y/n to take. "Well, hopefully this is it. It's truly a remarkable house." James saud as he led them inside the house, a grand property with a spacious garden and elegant architecture. As they explored the rooms, Y/n's eyes lit up at the features that matched her wishlist.

"I'll let you both have a look around yourselves. I just need to make a call." James said before leaving the room. "This is beautiful, but-" Y/n hesitated, glancing at Lando with concern. "It's quite expensive, isn't it? Almost 4 million pounds." Lando squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, love. I want us to have the best. I'll take care of it." Y/n smiled, feeling a wave of warmth. "You're sure? It won't be too much will it?" Lando laughed. "Darling, I got paid 20 million last year. This place is not not much." They continued the tour, discussing how they would decorate each room and imagining their life in this idyllic setting.

Over tea in the cozy kitchen, they finalized their decision. Lando looked at Y/n with determination. "This is the one. I want you to be happy, and if it means a beautiful home in England, then it's worth every penny." Y/n's eyes shimmered with gratitude as they held each9thwrs hand on the table. "Perfect, I can get a payment plan started out for you if you'd like and then-"

"No, no, I have the money just tell me when you want it and I'll send it on over." The dealer was gobsmacked. He didn't exactly know how to react to this 24 year old saying he can just pay off his house whenever it is needed. "I mean, whenever you'd like to move in." Lando nodded. "Let me call my bank and I'll have the money sent over." Lando stood up, smoothenlling out his shirt and shaking hands with James. "Please doing business." Jame said. "I will call you to finalise everything." Lando placed his hand behind Y/n. "Of course, we'll be in touch."

A matter of weeks later, Lando and Y/n shared laughter as they tackled the mountain of boxes in their new home. "I hope our furniture isn't lost in this bloody cardboard." Lando quipped, holding up a lampshade. Y/n chuckled, setting a box down. "Well, at least we'll have a well-lit maze." Lando plopped down onto the sofa, completely exhausted from hoisting boxes around everywhere. "You okay?" Y/n asked sitting beside him. "Just tired. I honestly thought being a racing driver would prepare me for this, but these boxes are giving me a headache." Y/n leaned on his shoulder. "Well, maybe if you drove as fast as you unpack, we'd be done by now."

"Rude."