#will solace no.1 fan

[mrkeatingsblazer]

Will Solace blinding his enemies with his light Will Solace deafening his enemies with his sonic whistle Will Solace disabling his enemies bc of his medical knowledge Will Solace weakening his enemies with his plague powers Will Solace with a fucking gun

[roman-o-cheese]

Third year of doing this solangelo pride redraw :D they are so beloved

[monologueslog]

Big fan of these guys :3 [ Confluence by @/inkspottie ]

[justaz]

arthur dragging merlin to training bc he needs a training dummy and who better than an actually dummy (no, merlin, arthur cant train with the knights bc. bc. bc they’re busy. IT DOESN’T MATTER THAT HES THEIR PRINCE/KING AND THEREFORE WILL DO WHATEVER HE SAYS-). merlin picking up on both defensive and offensive skills bc sometimes arthur needs to spice up training and doesn’t need a shield to hit but another sword. arthur and the knights being beaten and tied up but their assailants leave the serving boy free to serve them instead. but it’s not like merlin can just use magic in front of them so he bides his time until he’s able to get his hands on a sword to use against them. they don’t take him seriously (hahaha what can the lanky, wimpy serving boy who was hiding behind a tree during their quarrel do with a sword thicker than his body?). merlin using the skills he developed during training and while studying under gaius as physicians apprentice to strike at just the right spots to absolutely obliterate them

[flower1622]

Oh, mine! I can really imagine this scene!

🤣🤣🤣

Nico to Will: Would you like to stay for dinner? Persephone, from a different room: WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY FOREVER?!

[robocops-a-christ-allegory]

James Gunn posted a image of a pack of a oreos on his twitter. I cant do this.

[doll3scent]

★ Pornstar ★

John Price x cam girl! reader

Warnings- 18+-mdni, smut, age gap, cam girl reader, mentions of divorce, explicit language.

wc. 2.5k

a/n, This is my first post, english is not my first language so please bear with me. Pt 2 where she has a private video call with a fan ?

1, 2, 3,

master list 𓂃۶ৎ

You're a star-well, in a very particular sense.

Ghost's younger sister, though few people know that. You went by the stage name Angel Valentine, a name as alluring as the persona you crafted. In all your videos, you wore a delicate black lace eye mask, never willing to fully reveal your identity. You weren't about to let the world, or anyone who might recognize you, connect your real face to the adult websites you frequented. You were always adorned in expensive and delicate lingerie.

John Price had been struggling with loneliness since his divorce. Shamefully, he turned to adult websites and camgirls, seeking solace in fleeting moments of intimacy. That's when he found you-his Angel. You became his nightly obsession, his secret escape from the harshness of his reality. He watched you in the quiet solitude of his barracks, thought of you in the shower, your voice and movements occupying every corner of his mind.

So when he hears that voice—the honey-smooth tone that had haunted his nights—he freezes. He's standing in Ghost's backyard at a birthday party the team had forced together, trying to enjoy himself. But then you walked in.

The second your eyes lock with his, Price feels a heat flush through his body. It's you.

Those eyes, the ones that had gazed up at him so intimately through his screen, now meet his in the real world. His mind races, his chest tightens. He tries to focus, to play it cool, but his eyes betray him, drifting downward.

He knows your body too well-every curve, every detail engraved in his memory from hours of watching you. And yet here you are, standing just a few feet away, speaking to him as innocently as if you were strangers.

But all he can think about are the countless moments he's spent imagining you in positions that make his pulse quicken.

John continued to speak, his eyes flicking down to your lips every so often, thinking about how those same lips looked as you sucked on the pink dildo you always used. He suddenly remembered a video you did where you showed your viewers all you could fit inside your mouth. He had to adjust himself under the table subtly, trying not to get hard.

John spoke to you as if a man possessed, he couldn’t stop himself from speaking to you, he couldn’t stop himself from listening to your voice. He thought he sounded normal as he spoke to you, he thought he sounded casual and cool. But in reality he was trying painfully to hold back. Every time you spoke, he could only think of you calling him Daddy in your porn, and all the sounds you made as you rode different toys, he couldn’t clear his mind.

He had to adjust himself under the table again, the images of you on your back, legs spread, and that pretty little face of yours looking up at him behind the lace eye mask was too much. He tried to focus on anything to keep his mind off of it. The team were chatting, Gaz’s dog running around all the guests, but it still wasn’t enough to keep his mind fully off you.

The team, Ghost included, all noticed the strange interaction between you and Price, and they could tell he was acting strange. Soap and Gaz were the first to comment. “I’ve never seen the old man speak that much before” Gaz commented. “He’s almost never that chatty with us” Soap chuckled as he sipped his drink. “It’s very strange, I’m concerned.” Soap joked. Ghost, was very observant at his best of times, and the way Price was staring at your mouth was not lost on him.

The whole team knew Ghost was the possessive type, and if Price was eyeing up his little sister then that would not go down so well. Ghost watched Price with narrowed eyes, watching him intently.

Ghost leaned into the conversation and watched as you spoke enthusiastically with Price, your doe eyes gazing up at him like you worshipped the ground he walked on.

The team watched the interaction, watching Price flush every time you giggled or touched him on the arm. Soap and Gaz were amused with the whole thing, while Ghost was getting more pissed off by the second.

Price had to bite back a whimper as he watched you drink from that bottle. The way you wrapped your lips as they puckered around the tip, sucking the liquid from the bottle, Price’s mind was running WILD with the implications.

˚₊‧꒰ა ꣑ৎ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Smut ₊‧꒰ა ꣑ৎ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Price closed the door to his house as he locked the door and walked in. Throwing his keys and coat on the floor, Price walked over to his computer and sat down. Price opened up his browser, going to the site he’s come to frequent.

He typed in the URL, already having it memorised, the site opened and he immediately went to the camgirl he was addicted to watching. The moment he loaded the website he was met with your streams. He eagerly clicked on his favorite one.

You were sitting on your bed, wearing a pretty red nightie that was thin and lacey, and of course the black lace eye mask on your face. But Price remembered what was underneath the lace, now that he’d finally seen it, he was desperate to see it again.

Price watched with a fixed gaze as you spoke on your stream, interacting with your viewers. It felt like you were speaking to him directly everytime you spoke to the stream.

Price could listen to you speak all night long, he loved the sound of your voice. But all he could think about the last time you spoke to him earlier that night was your lips wrapped around the top a bottle.

He whispers your stage name like a prayer, his eyes glued to the screen as you interact with your viewers. He feels jealousy stirring within him as he watches other men typing messages in the chat, trying to get your attention.

his breath hitches in his throat as you begin to slowly remove your clothing, just like every other night he's watched you. But tonight feels different - tonight he knows who you really are. "Dear god..." he unbuckles his belt with shaky hands, his heart racing as he watches you reveal more and more skin. The thin red nightie falls to the floor, leaving you naked, he imagines touching your soft and tender skin.

he lets out a low growl, his eyes fixed on your body as you sit there, completely unaware of his presence. He reaches into his pants, pulling out his aching cock and starting to stroke it slowly as he watches you. "Fuck... Angel..." he whispers, his voice strained with desire. He leans in closer to the screen, his eyes widening as you slowly trace your fingers along your collarbone and down to your breasts. Each movement is deliberate, teasing, sending electricity coursing through his veins. He squeezes his throbbing cock tighter, biting his lip to stifle a groan.

His eyes are glued to the screen, his jaw dropped as he watches you lay back on the bed, spreading your legs wide open. He can see everything, your glistening pussy, your bare ass, everything. He strokes his cock so fast now, precum leaking from the tip. "Fuck fuck fuck..." He watches in awe as you bring your fingers to your lips, sucking them wet before slowly sliding your hand between your spread thighs. He can almost feel the warmth of your breath on his screen as he watches you rub your slick folds, his own hand moving furiously on his erection.

You gaze into the camera, asking for permission to touch yourself. His eyes roll back in his head at the sound of those words, Daddy. He can feel his release getting closer just from hearing you beg like that. "Yes baby girl," he chokes out, his voice hoarse with desire, "Put your little finger inside, like a good girl." he talks to you through the screen.

He watches, transfixed, as you slowly push your finger inside yourself, your back arching off the bed as you let out a soft moan. The sight of your finger disappearing into your tight pussy is almost too much for him, he can feel his balls tightening, his cock throbbing. "Fuck..."He's so close now, his hand a blur on his dick as he watches you finger yourself. The sounds of your wetness fill his room, mingling with his own heavy breathing. "Add another one, baby," he grunts, "Stretch that little pussy open for daddy."

His eyes lock onto yours, his heart pounding in his chest as he watches you add another finger. He can see the desperation in your gaze, the pleading look in your wide eyes as you stare straight at the camera. It's like you're looking directly at him, calling his name. He gasps sharply, his cock twitching violently in his grip as he watches your eyes find his in the camera. It's too much - the stare, the fingers pumping into your pussy, the breathy gasps.

He bites back another groan, feeling the tingling pressure building at the base of his cock and spreading through his groin. Your fingers are pumping faster now, plunging into that glistening pink pussy, and the sight is too incredible. His voice comes out in a strained whisper "That's it baby, finger-fuck yourself just like that... show daddy what a good girl you are." His strokes become quick and shallow, matching your rhythm "Keep going... keep looking at daddy..."

He watches, transfixed, as you pull your glistening fingers from your pussy and slowly, sensuality bring them to your mouth. His cock throbs violently in his grip as you wrap your lips around them, sucking your juices clean. It's the hottest thing he's ever seen.

His eyes go wide with anticipation as you reach for your giant pink dildo, showing it off with that playful giggle that drives him crazy. His strokes slow down, wanting to savor every moment as he watches you. "Fuck baby... look at the size of that thing." He can feel his orgasm building as he watches you seductively lick the tip of the dildo like it's the best thing you've ever tasted. His hand moves faster, matching the rhythm of your licks.

His breath hitches in his throat as he watches you take that massive toy deeper into your hot little mouth, bobbing your head up and down like a innocent little angel giving a blowjob to a giant pink monster. His hand moves furiously now, his knuckles turning white. "You look... "he grunts "So fucking hot... sucking that big dildo like it's my cock... Fuck, baby, I'm so close... You're gonna make daddy come just watching you."

He watches, completely mesmerized, as you slowly pull the dildo out of your mouth with a loud pop, a string of saliva connecting your lips to the toy. His mouth goes dry at the sight, his heart pounding in his chest. He knows he can't hold back any longer. His eyes lock onto the massive pink toy as you position it between your thighs, lifting your tiny waist off the bed. He can feel his release building, his hot seed spurting into his palm as he watches you prepare to impale yourself on that dildo. "Oh god..." His cock pulses violently in his grip as he watches you shamelessly grind the huge dildo against your tiny clit. The sight of your delicate pink lips kissing the enormous head sends a shudder of pure lust through him. Sweat beads on his forehead as he fights to hold back his impending orgasm.

His voice comes out in a barely controlled growl "Stop teasing... Jesus... push it in, baby... show me how you take that massive cock... Before I explode all over myself watching you." His strokes become rougher, jerking himself frantically "Fuck... Fuck..."He practically sees stars, his world narrowing down to the exquisite torture unfolding before his eyes. As you slowly guide the enormous tip of the dildo into your tight little entrance, a strangled cry escapes his throat. "Holy shit, baby... yes... Take it... Take that huge fucking cock..."

His eyes roll back in his head, his body shaking violently as he watches you sink down onto that massive toy, your petite frame stretching to accommodate the enormous girth. The sound of your erotic moan, the sight of your jaw dropping open in shock and pleasure... It's too much. "FUCK..."His cock spurts involuntarily at the sight of you riding that massive dildo, your tits bouncing beautifully in your grasp. His whole body convulses as he watches your wet pussy sliding up and down the glistening shaft. "My god... look at how you take it..."

His hand moves in a blur, jackhammering his dick as he watches you fuck yourself senseless on that gigantic toy. The room fills with the sound of his heavy breathing and the wet slapping of his palm against his rock-hard cock. "You're gonna make me come so hard, baby..." He watches you ride that enormous cock with pure abandon, your tiny body bouncing on it like a professional porn star. The sight of your full tits bouncing up and down, combined with the erotic show you're putting on, finally pushes him over the edge. "Fuck! I'm coming..."

As you start frantically rubbing your clit while bouncing on the dildo, his release becomes impossible to hold back. He unleashes a torrent of hot cum onto his stomach, painting it white as he watches you teeter on the brink of your own orgasm. "Yes... Fucking hell, yes..." panting heavily, he watches as you continue to ride the dildo with wild abandon, your fingers working furiously on your clit. "That's it, baby... Don't stop... Make yourself come on that huge cock... I want to see it..." His breathing hitches as he watches you lose all inhibitions, your body convulsing as you slam yourself down onto the massive toy over and over. The room is filled with the sound of your wet flesh slapping against the rubber and your desperate, mewling cries. His cock hardens again.

“Come on, baby... Come all over that fucking dick... Let me see you fall apart..."He watches, mesmerized, as your entire body goes rigid and you throw your head back in a silent scream of pure ecstasy. Your pussy clamps down on the dildo like a vice, your juices pouring out and coating the toy and your thighs.

"Fuck... Fuck, fuck, fuck..." He strokes himself furiously, his eyes locked on the sight of you collapsed onto the bed, the dildo still buried inside you. With a final, strangled groan, he unleashes another massive load of cum, this time aiming it directly at the screen.

[satellite-evans]

sweet nothing

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando often finds himself running home to your sweet nothings <3

Word count: 1.2k+

Warnings: tooth aching fluff, self doubt, based on the Taylor Swift song

A/N:

I know I know, another Taylor Swift based song, but honestly I could not help myself lol hope you guys enjoy xxx

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

Lando knew the world would always ask more of him.

More speed, more podiums, more perfection.

It was never enough—no matter how hard he pushed, how flawlessly he executed each lap, how many times he stood on the podium drenched in champagne. There was always another race, another challenge, another voice questioning if he could be better, faster, stronger.

He had spent his life chasing milliseconds, his every move analyzed under a microscope. Every qualifying session, every tire strategy, every split-second decision picked apart by experts, fans, and critics alike. The cameras never stopped flashing, the media never stopped pressing, and the world never stopped waiting—waiting for him to falter, to crack under the pressure, to prove he was human after all.

It was exhilarating, yes. But exhausting all the same.

Some days, the weight of expectation settled so heavily on his shoulders that he felt like he might collapse under it. Some nights, even victory felt hollow, lost in the endless cycle of needing to prove himself over and over again.

But when he came home to you, none of it mattered.

Because you asked for nothing.

No questions about strategy, no discussions about points or standings, no expectations he had to meet. Just you—curled up on the couch in one of his oversized hoodies, waiting for him with that familiar, soft smile that made his entire world slow down.

The moment he stepped through the door, the noise of the outside world faded into silence. The cameras, the flashing lights, the headlines—they ceased to exist. Here, he wasn’t Lando Norris, the Formula 1 driver, the rising star, the man under constant scrutiny. He was simply Lando.

“Long day?” you asked softly, setting your book aside as he crossed the room.

He didn’t answer right away—just let out a slow, heavy sigh as he dropped onto the couch beside you, his body sinking into the cushions as though the weight of the world had finally caught up with him. His eyes, usually alight with adrenaline and mischief, were clouded with exhaustion, the telltale signs of another grueling day etched into the tension in his jaw and the furrow of his brow.

You didn’t need to ask for details. You already knew.

Without hesitation, you opened your arms, wordlessly offering him the one thing he could never find anywhere else—solace. And the moment he leaned into you, his body pressing against yours, his face buried in the crook of your neck, he let out another sigh, this time softer, more relieved. The kind of sigh that told you he had been holding his breath all day.

Your fingers found their way into his curls, threading through them with slow, soothing strokes. The steady rhythm of your touch was his anchor, grounding him in a way nothing else could. Not the roar of the engine, not the rush of a podium finish, not the validation of the world’s applause. Just this. Just you.

“Talk to me,” you murmured, your voice a gentle invitation, not a demand.

But he didn’t need to. Because with you, silence was never empty—it was full. Full of unspoken love, of quiet understanding, of a peace he could never quite put into words.

You never asked about his lap times or his championship standings. You didn’t care about the noise of the world outside these four walls—the pressure, the scrutiny, the endless cycle of proving himself again and again. All you ever asked of him was to simply be. To exist without expectation. To rest without guilt. To love and be loved in return.

He shifted slightly, his arms tightening around you as he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. A silent thank you. A silent I love you. A silent I need this more than you know.

His voice was quiet when he finally spoke. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You smiled, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to his jaw, your lips brushing against his skin like a promise.

“Good thing you’ll never have to find out.”

Lando exhaled a quiet laugh, the kind of soft, sleepy sound that only you ever got to hear. It wasn’t the boisterous, camera-ready chuckle the world knew—it was something smaller, something sweeter, something just for you. He tightened his arms around you, burying his face deeper into the curve of your neck, breathing you in like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground. Like home wasn’t a place but a person.

You.

As the evening stretched on, neither of you moved much, perfectly content in the quiet, tangled mess of limbs and warmth that you’d melted into. The television hummed softly in the background, flickering light dancing against the walls, but neither of you paid it much attention. The real comfort was here, in the way his fingertips traced absentminded patterns against your arm, featherlight and soothing. A subconscious habit—like he needed to remind himself that you were real, that you were here, that this moment belonged to him and no one else.

Every once in a while, he would sigh, a deep, contented sound that made your heart swell. You knew this was rare—Lando allowing himself to simply be. No overanalyzing, no worrying about tomorrow’s practice sessions or race strategies, no weight of expectation crushing his shoulders. Just this. Just love, wrapped up in a lazy, sleepy embrace that neither of you wanted to break.

After a while, you nudged a small box on the coffee table toward him. “I brought your favorite.”

He peeked up, blinking at you sleepily before glancing at the box, the familiar packaging instantly recognizable. His tired features softened, his lips curving into the kind of smile that made your chest feel like it was wrapped in sunshine.

“You always know what I need,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, like he was too at peace to speak any louder.

You grinned, nudging your nose against his in a playful Eskimo kiss. “That’s my job.”

Lando chuckled, shaking his head at you in that affectionate way that made your heart flip. His arms tightened around you, his nose brushing against your cheek, his lips ghosting over your skin with the gentlest, most reverent touch. “Best job in the world.”

And he meant it.

Because what could possibly be better than this? Than coming home to you, to the way you just knew—when he needed quiet, when he needed a distraction, when he needed to be held without saying a word. Than feeling this overwhelming, all-consuming love in the simplest, softest of moments, wrapped up in your warmth, your laughter, your everything.

Eventually, he let himself sink further into you, his head resting against your shoulder, his fingers curling lazily into the fabric of your shirt as his breathing evened out. You felt the way his muscles fully relaxed, the last of his tension melting away, like you were the only safe harbor in a world that constantly asked more of him.

And you were.

The world outside could wait. The pressure, the expectations, the endless cycle of proving himself—it could all wait.

Because right now, he was exactly where he wanted to be.

Home.

And for the first time that day, he felt like he could finally breathe.

Because in a world that always demanded more, you were the one thing that never did.

And that, he knew, was everything.

[satsugacafe]

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮 | (𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 1)

➳❥ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Kurosaki Ichigo, Kyoraku Shunsui, Ukitake Jushiro, Abarai Renji, Urahara Kisuke, Hirako Shinji

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

➳❥ Kurosaki Ichigo

Your forehead. He doesn’t see the need for any ostentatious displays of affection—simplicity suited him. Plus, he loved how natural it felt, and how it allowed him to express his emotions without overwhelming either of you. After a particularly gruelling Hollow hunt, you’d often find him leaning down to brush his lips softly against your forehead, his breath warm as it fanned over your skin. “You alright?” he’d mutter, his hand cupping your face. It wasn’t just after battles, though.

You could be talking about the most mundane things—your day, a ridiculous encounter at the shop—and he’d lean in, pressing a brief kiss there as if to say, I’m listening. I care. Ichigo’s gaze would linger afterwards, his brown eyes sincere, almost protective. Sometimes you teased him for it, calling it ‘fatherly.’ He’d scowl, muttering under his breath, “Tch, whatever,” but the faint pink dusting his cheeks gave him away. He might not have said it outright, but in those quiet moments, the press of his lips on your forehead said everything.

➳❥ Kyoraku Shunsui

Your neck. Whether it was a fleeting peck during a casual moment or something more lingering when the mood shifted, he never missed an opportunity. It often began with playful teasing. “Ah, my dear, have I told you today how irresistible you are?” he’d purr, leaning in close as his warm breath grazed your skin. You’d roll your eyes, half-laughing, half-anticipating, and then his lips would land on the curve of your neck, firm yet tender. He’d hum contentedly as if savouring every second, his hat tilting forward slightly as he leaned into you.

Sometimes it was playful; he’d nip gently, grinning at your gasp before soothing the spot with a soft kiss. Other times, it was grounding, a silent reassurance that he was there, especially on days when the weight of his responsibilities loomed heavy. “Don’t go overthinking now,” he’d murmur, pressing his lips just below your ear. You’d shiver, half-annoyed at how effortlessly he disarmed you, but you couldn’t deny the comfort his affection brought.

➳❥ Ukitake Jushiro

Loved kissing your hands. It was such an intimate yet understated gesture that spoke volumes about his adoration. After a long day, he’d reach for your hand almost absentmindedly, his thumb tracing gentle patterns over your knuckles. Then, as if compelled by an invisible force, he’d lift it to his lips and place a soft kiss on your fingers. It wasn’t unusual for him to do it mid-conversation, whether you were debating the best way to brew tea or reminiscing about something silly.

“You have the most beautiful hands,” he’d whisper softly with genuine admiration. On tougher days, when his illness weighed heavier than usual, he’d seek solace in the gesture, his kiss lingering as if drawing strength from the connection. “Don’t mind me,” he’d say softly, his voice warm but tinged with weariness. It wasn’t just affection—it was gratitude, reverence, and love, all conveyed through that simple act.

➳❥ Abarai Renji

At the top of your head. It wasn’t something he planned—it just felt right, plus he’s tall. Whether you were seated beside him on the sofa, standing on tiptoes to reach something high, or simply leaning into him, he’d instinctively bend down and press his lips against your hair while snaking his arms around your waist. It became a habit, one that made you roll your eyes but secretly adore. “What?” he’d grumble whenever you caught him at it, his face reddening slightly. “It’s not weird or anything.”

The truth was, he found it comforting. It grounded him. Sometimes, after sparring sessions or particularly rough days, he’d hold you close, his forehead briefly resting against yours before he’d lean down to kiss your head, his arms tightening around you. “You’re my safe place,” he admitted once, barely above a whisper. You hadn’t said anything, just buried your face in his chest, but he’d caught the smile you tried to hide, and it only made him kiss your head more often.

➳❥ Urahara Kisuke

Cheeks for the cheeky man. He found it endlessly amusing how such a simple gesture could fluster you so easily. “What’s the matter?” he’d tease after planting a loud, exaggerated smooch on your cheek. “Don’t tell me you’re shy now!” It wasn’t always playful, though. On quieter days, when the shop was closed, and the two of you sat together sipping tea, he’d lean over and press a softer, more deliberate kiss to your cheek. “You’re too good to me, you know,” he’d say, the usual mischief in his tone replaced by something gentler.

You’d wave him off, telling him to stop being so dramatic, but the way your cheeks puffed up and became rounder would always betray you. Of course, Kisuke never let you live it down, often sneaking in surprise cheek kisses at the most inconvenient times—while you were focused on a task or mid-sentence. “Gotcha,” he’d chuckle, dodging your swats with infuriating ease. Despite his antics, every kiss carried a weight of affection that made your heart skip a beat.

➳❥ Hirako Shinji

Your neck. Shinji simply loved the way you would scrunch up or curl away when his lips found purchase there, knowing it was a sensitive area. Your reactions were to die for, and yet, it never once prevented him from surprising you with a kiss to the area. Whether you’re cooking, inspecting something, talking on the phone or watching TV, Shinji would sneak from behind with his arms snaking around your waist to bury his face and litter kisses.

He enjoys your squeals, the way you squeak his name or how you flail about, and if he catches you in a good mood, the way you melt into his touch. You visibly sag and relax under his ministrations while he continues to pepper kisses up and down your neck. At night, his face is always pressed up in that small spacing, lips inches away from your pulse, probably fell asleep in the middle of kissing you. It’s also how most tickle fights begin or when he wants to disappear from the world.

©satsugacafé 2025: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.

[amirasainz]

Hi I love your work. I was wondering if you could write one where baby sainz only likes being around Rebecca and Alexandra when she's not with her family.

Enjoy reading and send some requests!

-xoxo, Babygirl 💋

Safe space

Carlos leaned against the garage wall, arms crossed as he watched his sister, Amira, from a distance. The bright lights and buzzing atmosphere of the paddock seemed to envelop her like a whirlwind. Even though she was shy by nature, her presence radiated a kind of quiet charm that made her the center of attention wherever she went. It wasn’t just the fans; drivers, team members, journalists — everyone wanted to steal a glance, get a smile, or hear a word from the younger Sainz.

But despite the admiration, everyone in the paddock knew Amira was reserved. She preferred to stay close to Carlos, rarely venturing far from him or their father during race weekends. Her wide, doe-like eyes would search for him in the crowd when she was overwhelmed, and Carlos would always be there to reassure her with a warm smile and a gentle squeeze on the shoulder.

Over time, however, someone else had started to catch Amira's eye — someone who wasn’t family but felt like she could be. Rebecca, Carlos’s girlfriend, had gradually earned Amira’s trust, giving her the kind of warmth and protection that the young woman craved amidst the chaotic world of Formula 1.

It started with the little things. Amira would glance around nervously, lost in the crowd, and there Rebecca would be, standing beside her, a reassuring hand on her arm. Rebecca was older and had an innate calmness about her that soothed Amira. She made sure Amira was comfortable, brought her a warm jacket when the paddock got chilly, handed her bottles of water or small snacks, and kept eager fans at bay with just a polite but firm look.

And then, there was the incident.

Amira had gotten separated from Carlos after a press event. The fans were closer than usual, crowding around her, each person trying to get a piece of her attention. She felt her pulse quicken, her breath shallow, and she looked around for Carlos, desperately.

But before Carlos could even move toward her, Rebecca was already there. She stepped in, wrapping her arms around Amira and pulling her close, creating a bubble of safety between them and the crowd. Amira didn’t resist; she melted into Rebecca’s embrace, burying her face in the older woman’s shoulder, finding solace in her presence.

“I’ve got you, darling,” Rebecca whispered softly, gently running her hand up and down Amira’s back. She was calm, commanding, effortlessly making it clear to the people around that Amira needed space.

Carlos finally reached them, concern etched across his face. “Hey, Amira,” he started, relieved but worried. “You okay?”

Rebecca tightened her hold just a little, almost protective, and gave Carlos a playful, challenging look. “I don’t know, Carlos. I might just keep her with me for a while.” She spoke softly to Amira, her voice dripping with warmth. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Amira looked up, her face still close to Rebecca’s. She gave a small smile, one that hinted at gratitude, and shook her head slightly. Carlos raised an eyebrow, amused but appreciative. His little sister had finally found someone outside the family who she could trust implicitly.

As the day went on, Rebecca kept Amira close by her side, arm casually draped over her shoulders. She made sure Amira was comfortable, offering her drinks, snacks, or a warm scarf when the breeze picked up. Amira felt protected, almost treasured, in a way that was new yet familiar. She glanced up at Rebecca occasionally, shy but grateful, the same way she looked at Carlos or their father.

And from then on, it was an unspoken understanding in the paddock: Amira Sainz was family, and if Carlos wasn’t by her side, Rebecca would be. Fans and drivers alike watched with quiet admiration. They knew that the young woman who once seemed untouchable and distant now had someone by her side who wasn’t bound by family, but by a deep, gentle care.

Carlos often caught glimpses of Rebecca tucking Amira’s hair behind her ear or shielding her from the more intense crowds with an arm around her shoulders. It was a bond that had formed quietly, a connection that had grown so naturally that it almost surprised him.

One evening, as the team celebrated in the paddock, Carlos watched his sister resting against Rebecca’s shoulder, her eyes half-closed with a content smile on her face. He caught Rebecca’s eye, and she gave him a gentle, knowing smile. There was no need for words; they both knew Amira was safe, cared for — a princess of Formula 1 who had found her protector.

[twizzie-lairs]

My Darling, My Honey

Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 1)

Quick Notes:

This is when both reader/you and Alastor are both alive. (... we'll probably end up in hell later on btw...)

Reader is an artist/painter.

*disclaimer: i'm not a great writer, nor am I good at writing characters*

Part 1:

On a cold, dreary night, you take solace in a speakeasy to escape your dreadful home life.

You, the reader, are stuck in what feels like a hopeless, loveless, and potentially abusive marriage that was arranged by you and your husband's parents as more of a political/business move.

So you find yourself sneaking out to the next town over at night whenever your "husband" is away. On nights like those, you left the ring at home. It was only a reminder of your hellish life, you wouldn't let anything reminiscent of your husband come with you to your little escape/happy place.

During your occasional outings, you befriended the speakeasy's owner/proprietress, Mimzy, who becomes your most trusted confidant because you didn't have any "friends" or family you could trust- they were the ones who put you in your living hell after all.

Mimzy also became your biggest fan and patron once she found out you're an artist/painter. Many of your paintings became centerpieces at the bar and your art became synonymous with this prestigious speakeasy of hers.

You pocketed all this money and didn't even have to hide the fact that you were painting. He hated art, so as long as it didn't stay in the house, he didn't care where it went. It was the one good thing you had going for you.

After a particularly prolonged period of time of your husband being home and having to endure so much of his bullshit, you find yourself seated at Mimzy's bar with a drink in hand.

A while into the night, but while the night was still young, you hear Mimzy's voice talking to a voice you've never heard before. You were a regular, so you knew all of the other regulars (you were more of an irregular regular, due to your visits being erratic because it all depended on when your husband was out of town).

But this voice caught your attention immediately. When Mimzy and this unknown man round the corner, your head whipped around, just to lock eyes with this new visitor to the bar.

Upon meeting your gaze, you are met with an unexpectedly warm smile, which makes you gasp and make you debate if the man or the alcohol was the culprit of the blush on your face.

Mimzy walked over with the man and introduced him and you to each other. You extended your hand towards him, and much to your surprise, he laid a gentle kiss upon the top of your hand and told you his name. "Alastor."

After witnessing this exchange, Mimzy giggles and runs along and goes to chat with the other patrons, leaving you and Alastor to chat on your own.

Oh and chat you do, yes indeed. You lose track of time and before you knew it, it was time to head home.

Not once in your life had you lost track of time talking to someone before. Never had you felt the butterflies in your stomach like that. The kindness and genuine interest this man showed you, being attentive to your every word, you felt alive. You don't know the last time you felt like this, if you ever have.

-> Part 2

[rafecameronssl4t]

Omg Pt 2 of unfinished lap??? Reader makes him eat his heart out looking super hot and he grovels??? PUHLEASE

Unfinished lap pt.2 || F1 driver!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG 😭😭😭

Warnings: angst!!!!

Word count: 1,396

MASTERLIST (F1 driver!Rafe x reader au masterlist)

PART ONE HERE

The Monaco Grand Prix was undoubtedly one of the most highly anticipated races of the year, and it was clear why. The energy was electric from the moment you stepped into the paddock. Journalists swarmed, eager to capture every headline-worthy moment, while paparazzi darted about, snapping photos of drivers and their glamorous entourages.

Team crew members hustled through the maze of garages, their focused expressions a stark contrast to the spectacle of it all. It was a world that thrived on chaos, glitz, and precision—a breathtaking display of Formula 1’s allure. Austin had accompanied you this time, his calm presence a stark contrast to the whirlwind around you.

It had been a week since you last spoke to Rafe, your communication routed exclusively through Austin. The distance had been intentional. After the heated fallout at the Miami Grand Prix, you had felt the need to step away, to find a moment to breathe. So, you flew back home for a few days, seeking solace in the familiar before making your way to France just 24 hours ago.

Of course, your arrival had been made seamless, courtesy of Rafe's private jet. It was his unspoken way of showing care, even in the midst of a strained silence. He had respected your desire for space, understanding the weight of what had transpired between you. Yet, the air still felt charged, the unresolved tension from Miami lingering like an invisible thread pulling at both of you.

Now, standing in the heart of Monaco’s bustling paddock, you couldn’t help but wonder how this weekend would unfold. The aftermath of Miami still clung to you like a stubborn shadow. Your abrupt departure before the race had even ended—and without Rafe by your side—had set social media ablaze. Fans were quick to notice, flooding timelines with speculation.

Did you and Rafe have a falling out? Was this the beginning of cracks in what many saw as a perfect relationship? The whispers of gossip added another layer to the weight you already carried. As you stepped into the paddock, the flashing cameras were almost blinding. Paparazzi immediately swarmed, their voices rising as they called your name. You offered them a small, polite smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes but was enough to quell the barrage of questions—for now.

The murmurs and shutter clicks followed you like a persistent hum, a reminder that every move you made here was under scrutiny. Austin, always the reliable mediator, had informed you that Rafe was already at the paddock. His presence was palpable even without seeing him, a tension that hung in the air. But finding him wasn’t your priority at the moment. The thought of facing him so soon felt daunting, not when your emotions were still tangled from the events in Miami.

Instead, you sought comfort in familiar company, meeting up with some friends at Ferrari’s hospitality complex. The atmosphere was lively but far more relaxed than the frenzy outside. You eased into the plush seating, a chilled glass of champagne in hand, while plates of gourmet food were passed around. The warm laughter and light conversation helped loosen the knot in your chest, even if only temporarily.

Yet, even as you tried to immerse yourself in the moment, you couldn’t ignore the faint buzz of your phone in your bag.

Rafe

Austin says you're here, where are you?

Y/n

Hospitality.

Without waiting for Rafe's response, you silenced your phone, flipping it face down on the table with a snap. You didn’t want to be distracted, not when there were conversations to be had with friends who actually cared—or at least, that’s what you told yourself as you leaned back into the easy rhythm of small talk with Sofia and the others. Your smile was polite, but hollow, just like the words coming out of your mouth.

Inside, you were still seething, and nothing about the pre-race buzz seemed to settle the storm inside you. As the race approached, the paddock swelled with even more energy. "Y/n! Over here!" You hear paparazzi call out as you turn your head to see them all flashing their camera as you give them a wave. "They grow more obsessive over you every day, I swear," Sofia chuckles, as you let out a soft snort, knowing this dress was your petty version of a revenge dress.

The air crackled with excitement, but you were numb to it, your thoughts wrapped tightly around everything that had been left unsaid between you and Rafe. Sofia nudged you, a knowing glint in her eyes, breaking your daze. You frowned, her questioning look making you snap out of your thoughts. "What?" you asked.

She nodded subtly, gesturing with her chin, and you followed her gaze. Your heart clenched. Rafe was approaching, his racing suit snug against his toned frame, the helmet in his hand an afterthought. His eyes, however, were locked onto you with an intensity that made you want to look away. He walked through the chaos of the grid like he was moving in slow motion, cutting through the noise, determined.

The sea of people, the flashes of cameras, none of it seemed to matter. It was like he was trying to pull you back in, but you weren’t sure you wanted to be pulled anymore. Sofia gave you a small, almost sympathetic smile before slipping away toward her boyfriend. You stayed rooted to the spot, knowing full well what was coming. Your eyes met his when he finally reached you, and the force of his gaze nearly knocked the air out of your lungs.

There was something there—something unreadable. You hated how it made you feel. You offered him a smile, but you knew it didn’t reach your eyes. It was stiff, polite, barely enough to hide the way you felt. He saw it, of course, because he always did. He could read you better than anyone else. “Good luck,” you said, the words coming out more as a formality than genuine well-wishing. Your voice was even, but it didn’t carry the warmth it usually did when you said it to him.

You stepped closer, placing your hands lightly on his shoulders, doing it out of habit rather than any lingering affection. It was an automatic move, like you’d done it a thousand times before. Rising onto your toes, you kissed his cheek. The kiss was longer than it should have been, the seconds stretching into an eternity as your lips lingered. But it didn’t feel like affection. It felt like something you didn’t want to face.

“Wait.” His voice sliced through the noise, barely audible over the rising hum of the grid as his hand grips your forearm. Your body froze at the sound of it, tension building in your chest. You hated how much it affected you. You hadn’t wanted to see him, hadn’t wanted to be anywhere near him after the things he’d said, yet here he was, pulling you back into his orbit with just two words. You looked over your shoulder, meeting his gaze.

The vulnerability there was almost too much. You turned, your gaze cold. "What?" you snapped, not hiding the edge of frustration in your voice. “Can we talk, please?” he asked, the words soft, almost pleading. His face was a mix of urgency and something you didn’t want to acknowledge. You wanted to scream at him. To tell him you weren’t some emotional ragdoll he could throw aside whenever it suited him. But all that came out was silence.

You glanced around at the sea of people—team members huddled together, journalists with cameras in hand, all capturing this moment. Everything about this was wrong. You could already feel the eyes on you both, the pressure mounting. This was the last place you wanted to have this conversation. "Right now?" you asked, your voice biting. "But—"

Before you could finish, Austin materialized at Rafe’s side, his timing as impeccable as always. You almost resented him for it. “Rafe, the anthem is happening soon,” he said, his voice carrying a firm but unspoken reminder that the world didn’t stop for personal drama. He looked at you briefly, offering a polite smile, but it felt more like an apology for the situation than anything else.

“Go,” you said, your voice colder than you meant it to be. You gently moved his hand from your forearm, the briefest contact of your fingers almost too much. His touch lingered even after he let go, the warmth of it burning into you. His shoulders sagged slightly, a deep exhale leaving his lips. He nodded, but it was a hollow gesture, a promise that didn’t carry weight. “After the race,” he muttered, his voice low, as if he were speaking more to himself than to you.

~

Rafe’s victory, though impressive, only seemed to amplify the tension between you both. As you stood near the podium, clapping along with the others, you felt the anger simmering beneath your skin. The sound of Ferrari’s team celebrating—their cheers, the clapping—was a distant noise, something that barely registered to you. Rafe stood there, triumphant, raising his trophy high as the crowd cheered around him.

But despite his success, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything other than the sharp ache that had settled in your chest. Your smile, if you could even call it that, was a thin mask you wore out of habit, an automatic response to the situation. You tried to focus on the celebrations, but every part of you was focused on him. You could feel his eyes on you, the weight of his gaze intense and unyielding.

You stared at the big screen, watching his expression shift as he looked directly down at you, a brief flicker of something—regret, maybe—flashing across his face. You hated it. You hated how that tiny moment made you question everything. You refused to acknowledge it, refused to let yourself feel anything beyond the cold distance you had wrapped around your emotions.

Instead, you kept your focus on the screen, acting like you didn’t care. You could almost hear his voice in your mind, calling out to you, asking for forgiveness, but you shut it out. The ache from his words—those careless, hurtful things he’d said—was still so raw, and you were not ready to let it go. The second the podium ceremony ended, you wasted no time in leaving the crowd behind.

You moved quickly through the cluster of team members, your steps deliberate as you walked away, trying to escape the noise and the energy that had once felt like home.

~

You hesitated outside the door to Rafe’s private room, your hand hovering over the handle. The paddock’s noise was a faint hum in the distance now, replaced by the deafening sound of your own thoughts. You didn’t want to be here—every fibre of your being told you to turn around, to walk away, to protect yourself. But you also couldn’t leave things like this. Not after everything.

With a deep breath, you pushed the door open. The room was dimly lit, quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. Rafe sat on the small couch, his racing suit unzipped and hanging around his waist, his head resting in his hands. The sight of him—so unguarded, so unlike the Rafe everyone else knew—sent a pang through your chest.

His head snapped up when he heard the door close behind you. His blue eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension was thick, suffocating, as he straightened up, his gaze flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “You didn’t stay,” he said finally, his voice low, almost accusing.

You crossed your arms over your chest, the anger bubbling up again. “What did you expect, Rafe? A standing ovation for the way you spoke to me in Miami?” His jaw tightened, and he stood, his movements stiff and deliberate as he closed some of the space between you. “I wasn’t thinking straight,” he admitted, his voice strained. “I said things I shouldn’t have.”

“You think an apology fixes everything?” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended. “Do you even understand how much you hurt me? I was trying to help you, Rafe. To be there for you. And you acted like I was just… in your way. Like I didn’t matter.” His shoulders sagged, and he ran a hand through his messy hair, his frustration evident. “You don’t think I know that?” he shot back, his voice rising slightly.

“I know I messed up, okay? I know I was out of line. But I didn’t mean any of it.” “Then why say it?” you countered, your voice cracking despite your best efforts to stay composed. “Why do you always push me away when all I’m trying to do is be there for you?” Rafe let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Because I don’t know how to deal with this!” he admitted, his voice raw.

“I don’t know how to let people in without feeling like they’re gonna see how much of a failure I feel like sometimes. It’s easier to shut you out than to risk you seeing that.” Your heart clenched at his admission, but the sting of his earlier words still lingered. “You don’t get to make that choice for me, Rafe,” you said softly, your tone firm. “You don’t get to decide how much of you I can handle. That’s not fair. Not to me, and not to us.”

He stepped closer, his hands twitching at his sides as if he wanted to reach for you but didn’t quite dare. “You’re right,” he said, his voice quieter now. “It’s not fair. And I’m sorry. I don’t know how to fix this, but I want to. I need to.”You searched his face, looking for any sign of insincerity, but all you saw was regret. And fear. “I don’t need you to be perfect, Rafe,” you said, your voice softening slightly. “I just need you to let me in. To stop shutting me out every time things get hard.”

He nodded, his throat working as he swallowed hard. “I’ll try,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how yet, but I’ll try. Because losing you… I can’t do that. I won’t.” Your resolve wavered, the walls you’d built around yourself beginning to crack. “I’m holding you to that,” you said quietly, letting him close the remaining distance between you.

Rafe’s hand hovered near yours for a moment before he finally took it, his grip tentative but steady. “You deserve better,” he said, his voice laced with a sincerity that made your chest ache. “And I’m going to do better. I promise.”The anger and hurt didn’t disappear completely, but for the first time that day, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, things could change.

[glitteredrry]

sugar honey kisses

summary: harry’s next tour is joined by a special guest that has taken over his life and the world.

warning: brief mention of infertility/ miscarriage & fluff

wc: 3k+

a.n. i’ve been in a writing slump, and i just thought of this. i kind of went overboard (sorry). please excuse any spelling errors. i hope you enjoy these little blurbs. i was missing our harry, and i’m secretly manifesting another tour for us. byeee see y’all soon. 🤍

1. breaking news

Harry sat in the studio stuck on a verse on the last song to his album. He was gearing up to the release of his 4th studio album, and tour. Love on tour was going to be hard to top, but he looked forward to how this tour was going to be. He felt that he was in a better era of his life, all he hoped was that his growth would reflect on this new album. Fans were begging him to come back, and soon their prayers would be answered. His management was going to be releasing the album release date at 9 P.M. tonight. As he thoughtfully bite on the arm of his glasses, in walked in his wife YN. Harry’s eyes shot up looking at her happy to finally see her for the first time today, he had an early studio time today and only was able to give her a kiss to her head as she slept. Harry’s happiness quickly turned to nervousness as he saw a disheveled YN walking closer to him. “Doll, what’s wrong?” As she came in arm’s width from him, he grabbed onto her, and guided her to sit in his lap. Taking the tips of his fingers, he moved her hair out of her face as he watched her eyes tear up. Which only caused him to be more worried, “Harry, I wish I would've waited to tell you but I can’t.” YN reached down in her purse to grab something, and once it was shown to Harry he felt as if his heart rate had tripled in a split second.

“We’re pregnant.” She whispered to him with a smile. Harry was speechless as he stared at the test, he couldn't believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. “You’re serious,” YN nodded, touching his face for some solace. “I’m absolutely serious, we have half of us here.” She grabbed his hand holding him to her stomach. Harry’s tears came crashing down as he laid on her chest still accepting that they were with child. Joy rang through Harry’s body as he felt his wife’s comforting touch all over him. Harry reelected on their journey of building their family, going into everything they thought it would be so easy to add a baby; Yet that was the furthest thing than what it was.

After the loss of two children you never got to meet, Harry had been grief ridden for his wife. YN had the optimism Harry couldn’t bear to have during that time. She tried her best to keep him determined that they would one day have a child. They had tried for two years straight, and as of 10 months ago they stopped deliberately trying, and just left it to divine timing. There were doctor appointments to see if something was off with either of them and everything came back clear. The couple tried IVF, and that also wasn’t for them. Harry couldn’t believe that YN was sitting here pregnant after all this time. Harry quickly remembered his album and tour that was supposed to happen, and panic rushed through him. “I-I need to push back the album. I'll call Jeff, and tell him to postpone the tour.” “Absolutely not, you’re not pushing anything back, H. You’re releasing the album, and you’re going on tour. This baby will have to fit into our lives, we’re going to have a tour baby.” Harry smiled at his wife hugging her tightly, he didn’t know how this was going to happen. All he knew is that he loved and trusted his wife. If he had her he could get through anything.

2. trending topic

The world was preparing for the release of the album “Saturn Return”. He had given it that title because he believed he was in his life's peak. Harry was elated as he did his press tour. He felt reconnected to his fans in a way where he had missed them. As Harry was in the green room preparing for his last appearance before the album dropped, Harry’s manager, Jeff walked into the room with his phone in hand. “We have a slight situation going on. Pictures of YN leaving her gym class were released today. She looks visibly pregnant in them. I could release a statement to the press to calm the media, or we can ignore it.”

Harry was furious because he knew that where YN was pictured was an alley. She tried her best to be as inconspicuous as she could. YN was bent over, tying her shoe, and her shirt came up, revealing her growing belly. “I’m sure she’s going to be upset at herself,” Harry kissed his teeth, hating that he would have to break the news of this to his wife. As he continued scrolling online, he saw how fans defended their beloved YN, and Harry appreciated the support at this time. Harry looked at the time and would have to be out there in five minutes. So, he quickly dialed YN. When she answered the phone, Harry explained what had just happened, and the couple decided that the media wouldn’t push them to say anything. This was for them to reveal when they wanted to. Harry rushed to the stage as Jeff followed him, “I want you to make sure there are no questions about what is out right now, no family questions in general. Understood?” He said to Jeff sternly.

As not only a husband but now a father it was his duty to protect his unborn child. Jeff nodded and spread the message. Not commenting on this assumption from the press didn’t make it die down. It only brought more media attention to the couple. On the night of the album release, Harry decided to have a private dinner in New York to celebrate his achievement. YN wore a dress that took attention away from her bump, but as the couple approached the restaurant, paparazzi attacked the couple, asking questions, and someone hit YN, making her nearly fall to the ground. “Move back. Get the fuck away from her,” he created a barrier around YN, making sure she was on her feet. “You okay, doll?” “I’m fine. That just scared me.” Harry held her hand, pressing a brief kiss to her hand as they walked through the door. The media only got worse as time went on. He knew that they wouldn’t stop until they had an answer. So, YN thought of a way to announce the tour that Harry couldn’t resist. Harry’s hand hovered over the “share” button on Instagram as he looked at his wife. “You sure?” “Yes, press it, Harry. It’s now or never.” Harry hit the button and shut off his phone. Within ten minutes of the post being out, the couple was trending on Twitter with one simple post.

Laugh On Tour. Coming 2025. +1.

3. not your average gender reveal

YN had just become accustomed to tour life, and she would soon be leaving to prepare to give birth. Harry pampered her throughout the tour, ensuring she had her own dressing room to cater to all her needs. YN was sad to say she would leave the tour, but soon, her baby would be here. Harry took it seriously that he wouldn’t have YN flying for the last two months of her pregnancy. In the four months, YN had been on tour with Harry, fans loved pregnant YN content. She was considered a style icon with her looks not only during their time off but at shows. YN would sometimes be recorded more at his shows than him, as fans would see her on the side of the stage dancing with her pregnant belly. Harry often joked with fans and asked them about his dad's jokes and if he needed to improve them. Fans would boo or cheer, and it became a fun section of the show. “How about that one, honey?” Harry asked YN on the mic, putting her on blast. As the fans turned their attention to YN, her reaction would be what the audience followed with. YN shook her head and threw out a thumbs down. Then, the crowd followed with booing. “I love constructive criticism. I’ll work on a better one. I’m trying to make my baby laugh when they get here. I would rather get booed here than with my baby.” He shot YN a wink and continued to the next song.

The moment between the couple went viral, and people wondered what the child's gender was. As the couple sat in the bath together after a show, YN thought of something that had been in her head for two weeks since fans had been asking about the gender of their child. Harry rubbed on her growing bump and hummed as he felt himself destressing. “Harry, we should do a gender reveal for my last show with you. Well, the last one for my time on tour, what do you think?” “This tour has felt like a special one. I can’t describe it, but it feels more personal than past ones. I think that would be a great idea.” Harry’s team got ready for the big day and decided that the best idea for this last-minute gender reveal would be to do it right before the closing song, “Kiwi.” YN would be joining him on stage for the first time since they’ve been together, which would also be a massive moment for the couple. Harry took a sip of water after finishing up a song, and he couldn’t help but smile at himself, knowing that the crowd was about to go crazy. “Now, I hate to say that we are coming to an end. But we are. Soon, you will be stuck in traffic, and I will be thinking of you all and the laughter we have shared. Before you go, though, I want to invite a special guest. To all you people trying to sneak off, I see you, so sit down. You won't want to miss this. Please welcome my wife, YN Styles, to the stage.”

YN comes from stage left with a big black balloon, making the crowd scream so loud her ears begin to hurt. “Everyone calm down. My baby is sleeping. Shhh.” Harry said to the crowd as he embraced YN. “Many of you don’t know, but, today is my wife’s last show with me.” The crowd began to say “no” collectively, sounding upset she was making a departure. “It will only be a short break, but when she returns, our baby will be here. So, today, we will be celebrating our baby before their arrival. YN, will you give us the honor of sharing the gender of our baby?” Harry said as if it was nothing, and it was at that exact moment all phones in the room were up, ready to capture the iconic moment happening before them. “Wait, before you pop it, let's add some suspense, right?” Harry looked toward the band as they teased the crowd with music. There was anxious screaming across Wembley Stadium. At each sound of the music, you heard and felt the tension. Harry gave YN the cue to pop the balloon, and as she did, pink confetti flew out, causing the crowd to squeal, cry, and shout, saying how they knew it was a girl. The instrumental to Kiwi started. YN and Harry shared a sweet kiss as YN exited the stage. At the show's end, pink fireworks ended the best night of Harry’s career.

4. tour baby

Everything has been perfect for Harry and YN for the past three months. They couldn’t be happier with their baby girl Genevieve, or Vivi as Harry called her. YN left the tour five months ago, and now she had their three-month-old daughter in her hands, staring back at her. Harry decided to go on break during the middle of his tour to spend three months with his family without worrying about it. YN gave birth in December of 2025, and now, in April, Harry would be heading back for tour, and YN would be joining him again. Harry had been so consumed by their bubble that he almost dreaded coming back for a tour. YN would be lying if she said she wouldn’t miss his attention, and his time. It was the sad side of touring that she was familiar with. YN always knew his family was his number one priority. Now, going back on tour, the fact of the matter is that they aren’t his only priority. Naturally, with Harry touring, it could weigh down on him. He became tired easily or just lacked being attentive in other areas. It wasn’t necessarily his fault.

The tour just consumes his life. Harry had promised her that he wouldn’t let that happen this time around. YN was going through postpartum depression, and expressed to Harry her feelings. Harry took that into account and constantly tried to pour love into YN. Sometimes, his sugar honey kisses got her through the day. YN felt wholly supported as she transitioned to becoming a mother. Harry was the perfect spouse during this time; as Harry prepared to return to tour, there had to be many accommodations for Vivi and YN. Harry wanted to ensure they had everything and more that they needed. Harry was nervous about his baby girl coming to tour, he knew the media would wish to have the first look at his child. His only priority was to protect his family. Over the break, Harry and YN had many talks about the transition that would be taking place. Nannies were in place for the rest of the tour, and there was a schedule the couple would try their best to follow.

On the first day back from tour, the crew fell in love with Vivi. Harry made sure to have a long talk with everyone about the boundary with his most precious gift the world gave him, and he made sure to have NDAs signed for anyone who would be working on the tour. If news were to leak about Vi, he doesn’t know how he would react. Truly he would feel betrayed. As Harry was on stage, he saw signs all around the stadium asking about his baby girl. “She’s happy, we’re happy,” Harry said to a fan sign. Towards the middle of the concert, fans across the Camp Nou stadium got a notification while Harry was dancing across the stage, which caused all of them to scream.

Laugh On Tour. Barcelona I. April, 2026.

5. bittersweet first birthday

Vivi was the star of the tour, and as her first birthday approached, she knew this. As she gained consciousness, she joined Harry for soundcheck and even joined him in singing (which was just her screaming). Harry was overjoyed that it seemed like his baby girl was enjoying this side of his life. He had many fears that she would be scared of the loud music, but instead, she embraced it. As Vi got older, YN thought it would be good to start showing her to attend concerts.

Typically, during shows, Vivi would be backstage with a nanny. During Vivi's 6 months on tour, she finally sat in a suite with YN, watching her father perform on stage, and it seemed that she enjoyed it. At nine months old, even though she had protective earphones, YN often caught her hanging on to the songs she once knew in the womb. It looked as if she was relearning them as the months flew by. Now, one day away from her first birthday, Harry and YN both share tears about this bittersweet birthday. Of course, the couple was happy that their child was turning one year old while Harry was on tour, but the tour would end a month after Vi’s birthday, and it felt like an era of all of their lives would be ending. Vi was conceived right before this era of their lives, and Harry had reached heights of his career that he had never reached before. He had to credit this to his wife and child for all attributes.

Harry felt a sense of motivation and drive that he never had before. Vi was the inspiration for everything in his life, and he knew that shortly after this tour ended, he would be working on an album dedicated to his daughter. Watching her grow had caused him to jot down small notes about what he would write about for the next album. Vi was the inspiration of his life. Harry wanted to share his daughter with fans because they patiently waited and never invaded his space in public when they saw his daughter was with him. Harry kept Vi’s identity under wraps, although some articles would pull different things together about what they thought his daughter looked like. Sharing the most private thing in Harry’s life made him anxious; he was exposing Vi to the public eye's scrutiny. Harry knew how difficult it would be to keep her hidden as she grew into a toddler.

As she got older, Vi would attempt to snatch the blankets off that kept her hidden, or she would try to peek out from her stroller as the flashing noises from cameras were on her. Harry knew he wouldn’t show her often, so he wanted the first time to be a special occasion. Once he brought up the idea of singing “Happy Birthday” to her on stage to YN, it was something YN had to agree to. As Harry performed to a crowd of 78,000 people, he knew it was time for his surprise before he took a brief intermission. His fans didn’t necessarily know the date of Vi’s birthday, so this would be something else that was personal to him. “If you all would join me, it’s a very special someone’s first birthday.” The crowd cheered loudly as Harry laughed briefly at the reaction, opening his eyes in shock at the loud cheering. “That’s the best you can do?” He said sarcastically as the crowd screamed louder. “I think we should bring our guest out on stage…what do you say?” As the crowd continued to cheer, it dawned on them that this would be the first look at his daughter. “Don’t scare her too bad; she’s new to show business. Welcome my pride and joy to the stage, Vivi. Come here.” YN sat Vi down and YN instructed her to walk to Harry. Vivi walked out on stage to her father with stumbling legs as if the stage and crowd were second nature to her. As Vi walked into Harry’s opening arms, the crowd loudly aww’ed as Vi laid her head on Harry’s shoulder. “Now, don’t make my baby cry. Let’s have a nice hushed happy birthday to my Vi.” The crowd listened to Harry and joined him in singing to Vivi. Which seemed to surprise her as the crowd said her name to her, “Happy birthday, Vivi,” Harry said, then he pressed a kiss to the side of her head feeling more emotional than he thought he would.

Vi clung to his body as Harry walked off stage to an emotional YN. When the show ended, the crew decided to do something special for Vivi, which had Harry and YN thanking everyone for hours afterward. That night in the hotel, Genevive was sleeping in between the couple after her sugar crash from eating too much cake. Harry and YN watched the online outpour of love and admiration for their baby.

NEW DADRRY CONTENT

Happy birthday to the laugh on tour baby

Aww she has his eyes

Harry and YN reacted to different comments, which also led to playful arguments about who she looked more like. YN was happy with her decision that Harry continued to go on tour, creating memories for a lifetime as a family. Everything fell into the right place for the couple, and the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. As weeks passed, Harry was on cloud nine when his tour ended, and he couldn’t wait until the next tour to see how much more involved Vi would be. He thought of including her throughout his next album, too. He just wanted something to capture her at this age, his personal time capsule. His family slept upstairs in their London home, and before he joined his wife for bed, he posted one last picture to conclude the end of this era.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. This is goodbye for now, but not forever. I love you always. - H & V

[imagine-it-was-us]

ease || Lando Norris

Inspiration: Troye Sivan "Ease"

Author's note: First off – just like DTS, the F1 season of 2019 was dramatized to fit the narrative better. I tried to tie it to the events that actually happened as best as I could, but when you actually look at the season, Lando wasn't bad – the car was. Hope you like it.

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Warnings: Anxiety, declining mental health.

Summary: Amid the highs and lows of a debut Formula 1 season, Lando navigates the pressures of the sport, self-doubt, and the weight of expectations. Through late-night phone calls and quiet moments of vulnerability, he finds solace in the one person who sees beyond the headlines.

Word count: 2k+

[Phone ringing…]

"Lando?? Hii!"

"Hey, you answered!" He grinned, leaning back against the couch.

"Of course I did! It’s your first Grand Prix of the year! I’m literally getting ready to go to Oliver’s and watch it." A pause. "Also, you called me, so you expected me to be up, didn’t you?"

"Yeah… but I kinda thought you’d still be asleep."

"I couldn’t. The nerves barely let me." A small pause. "Speaking of which—how are you feeling?"

"Oh, the nerves are definitely there. Jon’s been on my case about it. I barely slept and just forced down breakfast. Outqualifying Carlos was bold, and now I’m wedged between Kimi and Kevin… Those guys have years of experience. It’s gonna be tough to hold my own. I know no one expects me to land a podium, but, you know… a point would be nice."

"Oh, come on, Lando. It’s your first career race as a holder of an F1 seat! You’re not a reserve anymore, but you can’t hold yourself to such a high standard already. I know you hate losing, and I know being here is your dream, but please—keep it realistic."

"I know, I know." He exhaled. "But that’s the thing – I love this. The nerves are there, sure, but the excitement? It’s bigger. I’ve been dreaming about this since I was a kid, and now it’s happening. It’s surreal. Like… I was just a fan, and now I’m in it."

"And that’s exactly why you need to enjoy it, Lando. Whether you finish in the points or not, everyone will be proud of you just for crossing that line. I’m already proud."

Lando chuckled softly. "Look at you, being my best cheerleader."

"I am! And you don’t give yourself enough credit for what you’ve done. You created this life for yourself. Now live it. To the fullest. Don’t let expectations steal the joy from you."

There was a quiet beat between them. Lando let the words sink in before murmuring, "Thanks."

"Anytime."

He glanced at the clock. "I should probably get going."

"Yeah. But Lando?"

"Hm?"

"Enjoy it. Every second of it."

A slow, growing smile spread across his face. "I will."

The call ended, but the words lingered.

_____________

[Phone ringing…]

"Hola, chica."

"Thank God, Lando." She exhaled sharply. "You’re alright?"

"Yeah, of course. Not a bruise on me. Just... gutted."

"I figured. It looked like quite the crash." A pause. "Obviously, I’m relieved you’re okay. Lance is as well, I guess?"

"Oh yeah, not a scratch."

"Lando–"

"I’m just really upset, you know?" He let out a breath, frustration laced in his voice. "I was already gutted after what happened in China, but at least then, I knew I didn’t do anything wrong. And today? Today, I did exactly what Kvyat did. I took someone out of the race. It wasn’t intentional, but… it doesn’t matter. I still feel like shit."

"Lando, accidents happen."

"I know." His voice dropped. "But that doesn’t help. What if McLaren thinks they made a mistake signing me? Maybe I should’ve stayed a reserve driver for another season, learned more before jumping in."

A silence stretched between them before he muttered, "All this driving is driving me crazy, actually."

Her heart clenched. "Oh, my sweet Lando… You’re doing it again, aren’t you? Beating yourself up over things that are part of the learning process?"

He didn’t answer right away. She could hear him shifting around, the rustle of fabric as he lay back against something.

"You’ve had, what? Five races?" she continued. "So what if half of them didn’t go as planned? Two of them did! You scored points, even outscored Carlos once. Do you really think McLaren doesn’t see that? That they’re not excited about what you’re bringing to the team? You’re learning. Even if today feels like a disaster, it’s just a part of the curve—"

"A really fucking steep curve."

"Maybe. But it’s still just a curve."

A heavy sigh left his lips.

"I appreciate your pep talks more than you know." He hesitated before adding, "I’m just… tired. And alone." His voice softened. "Maybe you’ll join me for the French GP? It’s not that far from home…"

She sighed. "Lando, I’m stuck at uni. Even Silverstone might be a struggle. But… I’ll try my best."

"Yeah." He let out a quiet chuckle. "Figured that was a long shot."

"But you’re coming home tomorrow, right?"

"I am, but I heard we have to go straight to MTC. They want us to go over everything, break it all down so we can learn from these mistakes. Might not have much time at home."

"We’ll figure something out, okay?"

"Yeah. Okay."

A beat of silence, then she sighed. "Look, I have to go. I have a shift at the café. But, Lando?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Please take care of yourself."

A pause. Then, softer than before– "I’ll try."

_____________

[Phone ringing…]

"Hi, Lan, sorry—I was just on the phone with Cisca."

"Oh, so that’s how we’re catching up now, huh? Interrogating my mother?"

"Actually," she paused briefly, "it was the other way around."

A beat of silence.

"What do you mean?" His confusion was audible.

"She’s worried about you. Especially after today. And…" she hesitated, unsure of how he’d take it, "she thinks you’re not being honest about how hard this lifestyle really is on you."

A sigh. A shift of fabric.

"And what did you say to her?" His voice was careful, guarded.

"I didn’t throw you under the bus, if that’s what you’re thinking." She let out a small breath. "But Lan… she knows. She’s your mother. Of course, she knows. And honestly? I think she’s right."

"Right about what?"

"That it’s taking a toll on you, even if you won’t admit it." A pause. "And that you’re not talking to anyone about it. Not even me."

"Listen–"

"It’s okay, Lando, I get it." Her tone softened. "You’ve always been the one to brush things off, to keep things light, to act like none of this weighs you down. But I know you too well for that. I see it, even if you don’t say it."

A silence stretched between them. For a moment, she thought he had hung up.

Then–

"When the paparazzi swarmed me today, when they kept pushing and shouting questions about the car, my career, if I thought I was failing—" he exhaled sharply, his voice falling quieter, as if he was telling a secret. "I thought, ‘I’m afraid of the life that I’ve made.’"

Her heart clenched.

"I knew what I was stepping into. I dreamt about this. But I never imagined people could be so cruel, so invasive. And then there’s all the articles, all the headlines about McLaren’s downfall, and guess whose face they always put next to them? Not Carlos. Me."

"That’s bullshit, what they are doing."

"It is." His voice was raw. "I get that Carlos is performing better, but blaming everything on me? Acting like I’m the reason the team is struggling? It’s just… unfair."

"You’re right. It is unfair." She wanted to reach through the phone, to shake him, to remind him of how much he’d already accomplished. "But tell me, Lando – what can we do? How can I help? How can your family, your friends… what do you need?"

Another pause. Then, softer–

"I don’t know."

But at least for the first time, he didn’t brush her off.

She held onto that small win and carried on. "Well, your parents are coming to France and Austria." A beat. "And I’m doing everything in my power to join you in Silverstone."

He let out a breath, but she wasn’t done.

"Lando, what people say online? It’s bullshit. They don’t know you. They see what they want to see, and they make judgments from the outside. Don’t give them the power to decide how you feel about yourself."

Silence hummed between them for a moment before he muttered, almost to himself, "I just realized that on top of everything, I’m a shit boyfriend. I didn’t even ask you how uni is going."

She huffed, exasperated. "Bullshit talking again, Lan."

A small, tired chuckle from his end.

"Call me an idiot, or just in love, but you are the best thing that has ever happened to me." Her voice softened. "And my struggles? They’re practically nonexistent compared to yours. I don’t have the whole world judging my every step."

A deep breath, a sigh.

"That doesn’t mean they don’t matter."

"Chill, we catch on to my boring life plenty. Same old, not failing and exams are coming at the end of June. I will be fine. As long as you are."

____________

[Phone ringing…]

[Phone ringing…]

[Phone ringing…]

"Lando, thank God you picked up. Talk to me, please"

On her end, the faint hum of the city – cars rushing past, muffled voices, footsteps against pavement. On his end? Nothing.

A shaky breath. Then – his voice, barely above a whisper. "I just don’t think I can do it anymore."

He hated admitting it. Hated how the words tasted like failure on his tongue. But God, he was so tired of trying to hide it. 

Her grip on the phone tightened.

It was just one article. One goddamn article. McLaren considering a lineup change. His picture plastered all over it. He didn’t even read the full thing—if he had, he would’ve seen it was about 2021, about Sainz’s contract coming to an end, about how McLaren needed to step up to keep Carlos.

But he never got that far.

The comments were enough.

That McLaren made a mistake promoting him. That he was too young. That he was the reason McLaren kept failing.

He swallowed. She could hear it.

"What if they are right? What if stepping down would be the most mature thing to do. McLaren believed in me so much, I can’t help feeling like I’m failing them."

"Lando, you are not failing anyone. That article wasn’t even about you."

"You just say that to make me feel better.” A humorless chuckle. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this?"

"Stop. You are at the hotel, right?"

"Yes."

Silence stretched between them. He exhaled shakily, bracing himself for whatever comfort she was about to offer – except before he could even process her question, there was a hard knock against his door.

"Are you–?" His voice, laced with disbelief.

"Open the door."

He heard it both coming through the door and the phone. 

His heart stuttered. With hesitant steps, he unlocked the door, and the moment it swung open, she was there – standing in front of him, eyes scanning his face, taking him in. And he must’ve looked like shit, because she didn’t hesitate.

The door clicked shut behind them as she dropped the handbag and stepped forward, wrapping herself around him. No hesitation, no questions. Just warmth.

He froze for half a second before melting into it, arms tightening around her, his cheek resting against the top of her head. Her touch was comforting. She smelled like home. Like the one place where nothing hurt.

She buried her face in his chest as she spoke softly. "You are none of the things internet trolls make you out to be. Your family and friends are rooting for you every time you cross that line, whether it’s P6 or DNF. Your team? They believe in you, you weren’t offered the seat by mistake or pure luck, it was your skill that guaranteed that. Carlos?" She hesitated for a beat. "He’s extremely proud to have you as a teammate, you keep him on his toes, and he’s worried sick about you."

His brows furrowed. "Carlos?"

"Before you say anything, I’ve been keeping in touch with him since you introduced us in Silverstone, he was just keeping an eye on you. How do you think I knew which room to go to?" She let out a small chuckle. "He cares about you, Lan. We all do." 

He didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. He just held on tighter, like letting go would send him spiraling again.

"This bullshit will pass. Don’t let them win. You don’t shut them up by stepping down, Lan. You do it by proving them wrong."

She could feel his breathing slow, the way his shoulders – usually burdened with the weight of the world – dropped ever so slightly. Maybe things wouldn’t miraculously get better overnight. Maybe the doubt wouldn’t disappear in a snap. 

But he still felt the fragile sense of ease building in his chest. 

[onriyuview]

solace

genre: fluff, smut, 18+ mdni

wc: 3.5k

summary: idol bf!sion comforting his jealous gf!reader, after this clip of him kissing a fan’s camera starts going viral on socials again

cw: soft dom!sion, oral (f), fingering (f), a lot of sweet talk, dirty talk, body worship, praise kink, unprotected pinv sex (wrap it pls), multiple orgasms, reassurance from sion, tender love-making, pet names (baby, beautiful, angel, princess, sweet girl, pretty girl, etc)

a/n: am i the jealous gf fan in question? maybe! ₍ᐢ. ༝ .ᐢ₎

as sion’s incredibly supportive girlfriend, you like to keep up with the wishies’ activities through every social media site you can think of.

being a fangirl yourself, you enjoy seeing different perspectives of concerts or fan events that other czennies attend, allowing yourself to live vicariously through them as to not expose your relationship with sion.

it especially helps when he’s practicing late nights or when he’s out of town, away on tour.

sure, you have countless amounts of his hoodies and special pictures and videos only meant for your camera roll and your eyes, among other physical items that keep you company in his absence, but you can’t help watching him through the eyes of a fan while he’s away.

after all, you’re his number one fan and he’s yours.

scrolling through twitter, you notice a clip from july 2024 making its way back onto your feed, circulating faster than you can even process. it’s on most of the major sion fan accounts you follow and— oh! you’ve seen this before... maybe?

your eyes scan the quick, 2-second clip of your gorgeous boyfriend kissing a fan’s phone camera, the video on a loop now as it turns into a 1-minute clip, then a 3-minute clip, your eyes not being able to leave sion’s features on your screen.

if you hadn’t seen it before you sure have now, the short collection of frames etched into your eyelids at this point.

once you realize just how many times you’ve watched this goddamned video, you sigh and swipe out of the twitter app, tossing your phone onto your covers.

thankfully, sion was only at practice at the company so you knew he’d be coming home to you tonight. but damn who let him think it was okay to give his fans that much fanservice?

you know he loves you and only you, and you know it’s also just his job, but sometimes the negative thoughts get to you.

no one told you how hard it’d be dating an idol as a non-idol, especially if he was a member of the newest and growing nct unit, or especially if he was this dedicated to making his fans fall in love with him, or especially if nearly every fancall video you saw of your boyfriend was of him outright flirting with his older fans.

frustrated with your own thoughts, you huff toward the ceiling, the air blowing a few strands of your hair out of your face, a furrow etched onto your eyebrows as you stare up at the soft glow cast by your bedside lamp.

before you can go deeper down the rabbit hole, you hear your apartment door beep and unlock, a pair of heavy feet stepping through the entrance, snapping you out of your thoughts. you don’t move to get up and greet your boyfriend who calls out for you first.

“baby? are you still awake?” he asks, his voice ringing through your place. he can see the soft light emitting through the gap under the bedroom door as his tired feet pad their way closer. he knows you usually stay up to wait for him.

he knocks gently after not hearing a response from you, softly pushing the door open to find you staring at the ceiling mindlessly.

“baby? earth to y/n?” sion calls out to you, dropping his duffle bag to the ground and nudging your shoulder with his hand.

“hi sion,” you say, catching the way his right brow raises when you call him by his own name and not a nickname or pet name.

your hand that’s further from him moves around your bed, finding your phone and unlocking it to open twitter.

“what’s this all about?” you ask, bringing your phone to his face with your other arm. his mouth opens to say something before his eyes flicker back to the screen where he’s watching himself kiss the camera. he winces slightly at having to re-watch his own fanservice.

“baby,” he starts, making your arm retract from him and toss your phone away once again. “is this why you didn’t answer when i came home?”

when he sees the slight pout set on your lips he fights back a smile, running his hand through his hair and perching himself at the edge of your bed.

“are you… jealous?” he asks, the lilt at the end of his question making you roll your eyes and turn your body away from him, sighing dramatically.

he bursts into a fit of laughter, clutching his stomach as he gasps, struggling to breathe with how hard he’s laughing at you.

“it’s not funny, sion!” you shout, but his giggles drown you out almost entirely. you sigh once again, picking up your phone but avoiding twitter at all costs.

after what feels like forever, sion’s laughs come to a gradual stop, and you feel him lift up your comforter to slip into bed beside you.

you scooch forward just a bit to give him some space, and once he’s finally settled, his face is right behind your neck, the hairs there standing up at the feeling of his breath on your skin.

“babyyy,” he says cutely. you can hear the slightest movements of his mouth with how close he is to you. “hey, come on… look at me, beautiful.”

you really didn’t know how not to give into him. you sigh again, your phone leaving your hand once more as you finally turn to face sion, slightly startled by his proximity.

after finally getting to look into your eyes for the first time since this morning, he takes in your pouty face.

your brows are furrowed the same way they do when you’re focused on something (or just frustrated, in this case), your bottom lip jutting out even more than when he found you.

he knows you might be definitely are upset with him, but this is the cutest you could look while ignoring him.

wordlessly, he starts pressing kisses to your worried features. first between your brows, then your slightly red nose, and both of your flushed cheeks, down to your chin and back up to finally meet your lips.

your features soften at the contact points, but you don’t reciprocate the kiss. your lips are still pouting at him as he looks at you.

one of his arms finds its place across your waist as the other comes up to caress your face.

“what’s wrong, hm? are you mad at me over this video from july?” he asks, his fingers dancing under your shirt to soothe your skin, the thumb of his other hand smooths out your still-worried brows.

you huff once more, letting yourself melt under his touch, eyes closed to focus on the feeling of his fingers against you.

“i’m not mad,” you mumble.

“so you are jealous?” he teases. your eyes open to be met with his signature wide smile that reaches his eyes.

“yes, sion. i’m jealous of your fangirls and the way you talk to them,” you sigh.

he kisses you once, twice, then three times on your lips, and you let him.

“you’re the one i come home to every night,” he assures you, a kiss following his words. “and you know i only have eyes for you,” another kiss. “and you’re the only girl in my world,” another kiss. “and doing all that fanservice is just my job,” sealed with a final kiss.

“i know,” you respond. “i just missed you today and seeing that clip of you stirred something in me i guess…” you frown again, realizing where your jealousy stemmed from.

he tsks at you, pressing another kiss to your brows once more.

“i’m sorry for making you miss me, my sweet girl,” he pouts, mirroring your expression from before. “how about i make it up to you, hmm? show you how much you mean to me? how much i love you?” he offers, each question followed by a kiss.

you don’t respond, watching and waiting to see what he’ll do next if you just lay there silently. to your delight, he starts trailing kisses down across your jaw and along your neck, nipping slightly to try and get a reaction out of you.

you let out a hitched breath, locking eyes with your boyfriend who’s already pulled away from the space in your shoulder. his hands are holding you so gently and his lips are so soft on your skin, brushing past the goosebumps that raise on your chest when you feel his breath there.

his fingers are toying with the hem of your top, silently asking you for permission to take it off, in which you respond with a silent nod of your head.

sion was thankful you didn’t wear a bra around the house, especially not before bed, because that was one less article of clothing keeping him from appreciating your beautiful figure.

“you’re so pretty, princess,” he whispers, a hand reaching out to knead at your chest. his thumb flicks against your nipple gently as he watches you squirm under him. a soft smile makes its way to his lips. “always so responsive for me, hmm?”

he leans forward again, now capturing your other nipple in his mouth, running his tongue across it and groaning at how quickly it hardens.

your hands fly to his hair, nestling into the dark locks to ground yourself. you’re trying not to give him any verbal reactions (for now), but your body moves before you can even think, sion knowing it almost better than you do.

he shifts to nip at your other nipple, switching places with his hand. your breathing is picking up now, his free hand pulling at the elastic of the waistband of your bottoms, the material snapping softly at your skin.

“you gonna let me take care of you tonight, angel?” he asks sweetly, rolling the bud that was in his mouth between his thumb and pointer finger, smiling and biting his lip at how breathless you already look underneath him.

“mmm,” you whine, hips bucking up as a signal for him to continue.

he taps at your hips to raise your hips once more, pulling your bottoms down in one swift motion and tossing them aside somewhere.

sion trails his lips down your torso, fleeting kisses being scattered across the expanse of your skin.

“my pretty baby,” sion whispers, almost to himself.

his hands are holding you at your hips as his mouth meets the skin there, coursing them down your thighs and calves as his lips follow, dragging across your limbs and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“you have no idea what you do to me,” he mumbles, gently pushing your legs apart and settling down between them. he gasps at the wet patch that decorates the center of your panties now, his thumb coming up to rub the damp fabric.

“you missed me too, didn’t you?” he’s smiling, watching you squirm. “i can tell just by how wet you are,” he says, applying more pressure to your clothed clit before pulling the center of your panties aside and exposing your slick core.

your bottom lip is tucked between your teeth, biting down so you don’t give sion the audible satisfaction he wants, but your body betrays you entirely. just the way the string of arousal clings to the fabric is enough to satiate your boyfriend.

“this pussy missed me too, hm?” he leans down, your scent flooding his senses. “thought about her all day, you know.”

he starts flicking his tongue across your clit gently at first, then with more pressure as he pins your squirming hips down to the bed.

“ah-ah,” he tuts. “let me take my time with you, pretty girl,” he says before attaching his mouth to your core, alternating between wrapping his lips around your clit and fucking his tongue in your hole.

he’s truly indulging in your pussy, not in any rush and wanting to drag out your pleasure for as long as he can. it’s wet and messy, sion’s trademark while eating you out, and you love it.

“tastes so sweet, angel,” he growls, his voice dropping and more gravelly than before, making you leak with arousal.

pulling away from your heat, he works a finger through your folds before burying it in you with one swift motion, the wetness of your juices and his spit aiding his digit. you cry out at the feeling of finally feeling somewhat full of him.

“sion!” you gasp as his mouth reattaches itself to your clit, sucking almost too softly as he fingers you deliciously, your original idea of staying quiet thrown out the window. he just feels— “so good, sion,” you whine, your hips bucking against his face.

you almost miss how he’s smiling up at you as he keeps working you, adding another finger and pumping them in and out of your heat. sion revels at the reactions you finally give him, the squelching sounds filling the room and turning you on even more.

“that’s it, baby. let me hear you,” he purrs, fingers stroking at the spongy part of your walls before suckling your clit with more fervor now, anticipating your orgasm before you can even process it yourself.

“c-cumming, sion— fuck! i’m cumming,” you cry before the hot white feeling in your stomach releases, sending you over the edge as sion’s movements don’t stop, helping you ride out your high around his fingers and in his mouth.

“that’s my girl,” he grins at you, finally pulling away from your core. the bottom half of his face covered in your cum, his lips puffy and shining even in the dim lighting of your bedroom.

you tug at the collar of his shirt, silently asking him to come up to you.

“what is it, pretty?” his smile growing as he takes in your flushed cheeks and messy hair. “need your words, baby.”

“kiss me,” you mumble, pulling at him once more before his lips meet yours. you can taste yourself on him as your tongue swipes across his lower lip, his tongue stroking against yours, sion deepening the kiss with more passion.

you both pull away breathlessly, resting your foreheads against each other for a short moment.

“you’re so beautiful, you know that?” he asks, eyes boring into yours.

“i know… you tell me everyday,” you blush.

“you know i think you look prettiest when you’re cumming?” sion asks, pressing another kiss to your lips before his hands move down to his sweats, pulling them down along with his underwear.

his hard member springs up, the tip red against the pale skin of his stomach, precum smeared across the head of it. “only just got started and this is what you do to my cock, sweet girl.”

he hunches down to steal another kiss from you, pushing your legs up to lie between them before grabbing the base of his cock and running the tip through your folds.

you whine at this, your hips pushing up so he can just get it in, but sion shakes his head and tsks at this.

“impatient aren’t you? i thought i told you i wanted to take my time with you, angel,” he reminds you, his free hand coming to pin your hips down to the mattress once more. “i’ll give you what you want, don’t worry your pretty head.”

the head of his cock finally latches onto your entrance, making you gasp and sion hiss at the sensation. “always f-feel so good— fuck, so good around me baby,” he stutters as he pushes his length in.

despite how many times you and sion have had sex, you’re still not adjusted to his size, the stretch burning delightfully each time.

“my perfect girl,” sion breathes out once he fully buries himself to the hilt. “with the most perfect pussy made just for me, hm?” he all but whines at the feeling of your walls wrapped around him, his hands planting into the pillow on either side of your head to steady himself.

he’s kissing you now, distracting you from the discomfort between your legs. you can feel everything he wants to say just with his plush lips against yours.

he pulls back to pepper your face with more pecks, watching the furrow in your brows disappear slowly as your vice-like grip on his throbbing member slowly lets up.

“that’s it angel,” sion coos, his big brown eyes sparkling with pride. “you’re doing so good for me, takin’ me so fuckin’ well,” he praises. his hips start drawing back and pushing forward gently but firmly, filling you up all the way every time.

“‘s too big, sion,” you whimper, feeling the the tip of his member kissing at the most deepest part of your walls. your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, the pleasure too overwhelming to keep them open and trained on your boyfriend.

“i’ve got you, baby. you’re okay, just keep taking it,” he groans, picking up the pace in hopes of drowning out the pain with pleasure. it works like a charm, moans of pleasure spilling from your lips and encouraging him to keep going.

he’s cupping your face with one hand while the other keeps him propped up, swiping at your lips and your cheek so gently, making you open your eyes and look at him.

“i love you so much, sweet girl. you’re so perfect and good to me and you mean the world to me,” he’s blabbering now, but the sweet words go straight to your pussy, making you clench around his length.

a whine bubbles out of your lips and your eyes are squeezed shut again at the immense oxytocin rush. he’s fucking you just right while spilling the most sugary words in your ears and you feel like you’re floating.

his hand that was holding your face moves down to start rubbing circles against your clit and your back arches at the contact, your hips fighting against his hand to buck up and meet his thrusts.

“ah— sion!” you cry out, your walls fluttering around him more consistently now. “fuck! sion please,” you pant.

“what’s wrong, baby?” sion asks, feigning concern. he knows exactly what’s wrong; he knows your body like the back of his hand, but just needs to hear you say it.

his head dips to the crook of your neck to nip at the skin and your arms fly around his shoulders, one of your hands finding its way in his hair to tug at the strands in an attempt to ground yourself.

“i— fuck! i’m gonna cum,” you’re gasping now, causing sion to speed up his thrusts as well as his fingers on your clit.

“y-yeah? gonna cum for me pretty girl?” he rasps. “gonna make a mess around my cock? you gonna show your boyfriend how much you love him, hmm?”

and that’s all it takes for the tension in your lower stomach to burst. the cry that leaves your mouth has your throat feeling raw, but you don’t care as sion’s teeth graze your neck, the skin muffling his moans as he paints your walls with his hot cum.

his lips leave your neck as his hips still, your walls still spasming with the aftershocks of your orgasm. “always so good for me, angel,” sion mumbles, slotting your lips together as he rides out both of your highs.

after catching your breaths, and much reluctance, he finally pulls out of you. the sudden empty feeling and his fluids spilling out of you making you wince and groan at once.

“sion!” you whine, dragging out his name for emphasis, your face scrunching up as he chuckles at you.

“i know, baby. hold on,” he says, getting up to dampen a towel to clean you up. “come here, let’s get you cleaned up so we can cuddle.” his signature smile spreads across his face, his cheekbones rising with it.

you roll your eyes but are unable to avoid the corners of your lips turning up to mirror his own.

once you’re both clean and redressed in comfortable sleeping clothes, sion pulls you close to him, your back pressed against his front.

“have i made it up to you?” he asks, burying his face into the back of your neck.

“you have... and i’m sorry for getting upset with you earlier,” you pout, even though he can’t see your face. he shushes you and pulls you impossibly closer.

“don’t be sorry, beautiful. i know you just missed me,” sion mumbles, kissing your neck. “i’ll make sure you never miss me that much again, okay?”

you hum in response, the fatigue taking over as your eyelids shut, feeling nothing but love and reassurance as you fall asleep in sion’s arms.

tags: @rikupid @sminiac @be-my-sunrise ♡

thank you to my baby @rikupid for beta reading as always ♡

[adascore]

Hello! Not sure if you’re taking requests but would you consider doing an addition to TSS where young!arsenal reader was starting before Beth and Viv came back and has been benched majority of the time since (Kyra core☹️). Maybe during like the west ham game was one of the subs thrown on halfway through and after the loss made a snarky comment about “being thrown on to unfuck everything” type of thing to another teammate and Viv/beth overhear and think she’s talking about them (maybe they’re already a little insecure about losing such an “easy” game, self doubt post ACL) and things are super frosty and weird at home until one of them snaps and makes a comment about how they still wouldn’t have won even if R started. Hurt/comfort angst but with a happy ending!! Not sure if any of that strikes your fancy but I had the thought and you’re so talented:) no worries if not!!!

To Jump The Gun(ners)

pairings: arsenal x teen!reader / meadema x teen!reader / kyra cooney-cross x arsenal!reader

warnings: the west-ham match. swearing. angst. awkwardness.

author’s note: OMG LOVE THIS IDEA ! like this was right up my alley I felt like 😭 thank you so much, and I hope you enjoy the story!

masterlist

February 4, 2024 - Essex, England

It had become a routine, seeing her name and number on the bench. She took a glance at Kyra, a knowing look in her eyes.

The young Arsenal homegrown wondered where it all had gotten wrong. Well, she knew the answer, but it wasn't exactly something she could say out loud to anyone.

She was transported back to the 2022/23 season, where she would warm the bench until either Vivianne or Beth were too tired or they needed to be rested for the next match.

Their injuries had changed everything.

Y/N not only became a regular starter, but became a vital part of their game. Her absence would be noticed.

She scored the goals that got them to the semifinals of the Champions League, keeping them level with 2x champions Wolfsburg.

However, Beth and Vivianne were back now. Alessia's arrival also didn't help much, the former Manchester United player having cemented herself into the starting line-up.

It also didn't help that Jonas was not a fan of rotating. Only in specific Conti Cup matches or against what he deemed 'weaker' teams in the league would he make changes to the usual starting XI.

In other words, she was back to step 1.

That's why it was hard to watch her teammates falling 2-1 behind against West Ham, with no one seeming to find an answer or any will to turn the game around. It was a painful spectacle.

In the 63rd minute, Jonas decided to throw herself, Kyra and Cloé in the match, and take out Vivianne, Victoria and Beth. It was a desperate attempt, and the three Gunners found themselves on the pitch, tasked with the challenging mission of trying to fix everything that had gone wrong so far.

Y/N and Cloé quickly created some chances but the West Ham defense or the swift reflexes of Mackenzie Arnold saw them go in vain.

The teenager could see the expressions of her teammates on the bench, visibly frustrated with how the match had unfolded since Alessia's successful header.

Vivianne couldn't hide the discontent in her eyes as she sat with a subtle shake of her head. Her partner, sitting beside her, noticed and Beth patted her thigh, offering silent support as they continued to watch their team scramble for a late equalizer.

As the final whistle blew, the disappointment within the team was high. Y/N did her usual post-match routine, and congratulated all the West Ham players on their win, while giving and receiving solace from her own teammates.

The teen found Kyra again, someone who she had found a friendship in over the months the Australian had joined the Gunners.

''You alright?'' The midfielder asked her, a dejected tone in her voice.

Y/N nodded. ''Yeah, you?''

''Not too great, but there are worse things in life.'' Kyra responded, trying to put the loss in perspective.

''True,'' the striker agreed, ''I can't believe he keeps putting us in these positions.''

Kyra nodded. ''You think he would learn after Tottenham.'' She sighed.

''Apparently, we're not good enough to start, but when he needs us to unfuck everything that happened, then he knows who we are.'' Y/N said, her frustration evident. The unfair treatment of some players during the season lingered in the air, leaving a bitter taste after the defeat.

As the youngsters continued their conversation on their way to the locker room, Vivianne and Beth, unintentionally overhearing their discussion, exchanged puzzled glances.

''Did you hear that? 'Unfuck everything'?'' Beth repeated her housemate's words to her partner.

Vivianne's brow furrowed as she processed what was said. ''Yeah,'' the Dutchwoman breathed out, ''not very nice.'' A hint of sadness lingered in her voice. It stung that their efforts were being discussed in such terms, especially by the young girl they were living with.

They didn't say much else to one another as they strolled through the corridor.

The atmosphere in the locker room was subdued, void of any banter and entertaining chats. Most of the players were already there as the couple walked in.

Beth took a glimpse at Y/N and Kyra who still seemed in a discussion with one another, although they were whispering now.

''Girls, we're a lot better than this.'' Kim broke the ice, a neutral expression on her face.

Everyone nodded at the captain, the collective disappointment from the match was visible. ''Well, it's done, we can't change anything about it. So, everyone just do a reset, try to get some sleep or distract yourselves on the bus, and I expect everyone with fresh minds and legs at training.''

The team nodded and weakly applauded Kim's small speech.

As the team began to disperse, Y/N caught Beth's eye, offering a faint smile in greeting. However, the winger's response was noticeably strained, her usually warm demeanor replaced by a subtle tension.

"Everything okay?" The younger one ventured, her concern evident.

Beth's smile faltered slightly, her gaze flickering away before returning to meet Y/N's. "Yeah, everything's fine." She replied, though her words sounded hollow even to her own ears.

The striker's brow furrowed further, a flicker of uncertainty clouding her features. "Are you sure?" She pressed gently, not used to this awkwardness from her teammate.

"I... yeah, I'm sure." She retorted, her voice tinged with irritation.

"Okay..." Y/N trailed off, unsure of how to proceed. Sensing the dismissiveness between them, she offered a hesitant smile before turning back to where she had been talking with Lia.

As her housemate walked away, Beth's expression hardened, a pang of guilt gnawing at her conscience. She knew she shouldn't act like this towards her, but her words had really struck a nerve for some reason and it was hard to pretend it didn't.

The drive home on the bus wasn't that different, though the atmosphere was more subdued due to the loss. Y/N and Kyra were seated next to each other, Katie and Caitlin sitting on the other side of them.

''You alright, Y/N?'' Caitlin asked, noticing the youngster's quietness.

Y/N looked up, glancing away from her nails to the older Australian player. She hesitated answering, not knowing if it was appropriate to say anything about her interaction with Beth.

She sat up straight and motioned for the three of them to huddle together over the small table. They got her message and did just that.

''Did anything happen on the bench or something? Cause I had this weird exchange with Meado, and it's just stuck in my head.'' She explained, her voice hushed.

They all frowned at her words. ''No, she was just frustrated about the game, but so was everyone else.'' Caitlin responded.

''What happened?'' Katie chimed in, curious to know about this exchange.

''I don't know. She was looking at me in the locker room, and I smiled at her, but she, I don't know, just looked weird at me. I asked her if she was alright, but she was kinda distant with me? She responded a little irritated so I left her alone, but it was weird.'' Y/N gave a small summary of the interaction.

"That is strange." Kyra mused, breaking the silence that had settled over their huddle.

They nodded at her words, agreeing with the young Australian.

''I didn't notice anything.'' Caitlin said with a pout, feeling sorry she couldn't help her younger teammate out. ''Me neither, kiddo.'' Katie added, a similar expression on her face.

Y/N smiled sadly, disappointed she wasn't any wiser on Beth. Katie rubbed her arm once she noticed her dejected expression. ''Hey, I wouldn't worry about it. It's a tough loss.''

The youngster nodded at the Irishwoman's words. ''Yeah, you're right.''

Katie was not right.

As soon as she got in the car with the beloved couple it was clear that something had gone down for them to act in such a sour mood. Vivianne's knuckles were white against the steering wheel, while Beth stared out of the window, her expression unreadable.

Sensing the palpable tension, Y/N shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The youngster wanted to break the silence, but the words wouldn't come out. It felt like they were stuck in her throat.

The drive home felt like forever. Every minute made the atmosphere worse. Y/N tried to catch Vivianne or Beth's eye, hoping for some sign that things would get better, but there was nothing.

Car rides after losses were never filled with much conversation, but it had never been like this.

A wave of relief went through her as the car was parked in front of their apartment complex, longing for the comfort of her room where she could hide from whatever the situation was.

Y/N couldn't even come up with a guess on what had transpired. Did they have a fight? Did she do something? Did someone else do something?

She had absolutely no clue.

However, the tension seemed to follow them into their shared home. The silence had become even more deafening with each step they took.

Beth disappeared into her room without a word, while Vivianne headed straight for the kitchen, her movements stiff and mechanical. Y/N stood in the hallway, feeling like an outsider in her own home.

Their behaviors made her feel anxious, feeling that knot inside her stomach. What had happened during the game? What had caused them to retreat into themselves like this?

Unable to handle any of it longer, Y/N tentatively approached the Dutchwoman in the kitchen. "Um, Viv?" She began, her voice small.

Vivianne glanced up, her expression guarded. "Yeah?” She replied, accent heavy.

The younger girl hesitated, unsure of how to broach the subject. "I, uh, did, uh, something happen at the game?" She stammered, her words stumbling over each other in her haste to get everything out.

The striker's eyebrows furrowed. "What are you talking about?” She asked, her face neutral.

Her response only added to the youngest one's confusion. It seemed as though they were both dancing around a subject neither wanted to address.

"I-I just... noticed things were a bit off between everyone after the match," Y/N explained, her voice barely above a whisper, "and, well, the car ride home was... a bit weird, you know.”

Vivianne's expression softened slightly, though her guard remained up. ''Don't worry about it. Just… frustration from the game.''

But Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than just frustration. She wanted to press further, but the fear of causing further conflict held her back.

Instead, she offered a hesitant nod. ''Okay, good.'' She murmured to the floor, retreating back to her room with a heavy heart.

The Arsenal homegrown player pulled her phone out of her pocket, searching up Kyra's contact. It only took a few rings for the Australian to pick up, she was probably already on her phone as she was called.

''Hey.'' Her accent momentarily bringing a smile to Y/N's face.

''Hey, you're home?''

''Yeah, just arrived. What's up?''

There was a brief pause before Y/N continued. ''Things have gotten a bit weirder since, uh, on the bus.''

''Shit. What happened?'' She asked, her voice filled with genuine worry.

''It's just... the tension at home is almost suffocating," she explained, ''it was completely silent the entire time we were driving home, and when we got home, Beth immediately went to her room. I tried to ask Viv about, but she told me it was just frustrations, but it clearly is not just that.''

There was a moment of silence as Kyra processed Y/N's words. "That doesn't sound good," she finally replied, ''you really have no idea what might have happened? Maybe they had a fight or something?''

Y/N shook her head, even though her teammate couldn't see it. "No, that's the thing. I'm completely lost." She admitted, frustration lacing her words.

''Same. I wish I knew what to say to help.'' Kyra said softly.

''It's alright, Ky. Thanks for letting me ramble.'' Y/N chuckled, appreciating the opportunity to unload her worries onto her friend.

''It's fine, honestly. It must not be fun to be in this situation,'' the Matilda replied, feeling for her friend, ''if anything else happens you can always let me know, okay? I'm gonna have some dinner now.''

Y/N smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Ky. I really appreciate it.”

''Anytime. Take care, I'll see you at training.''

''You too. Bye, bye.'' They bid each other goodbye before hanging up the phone.

Y/N prepared to leave her room again, wanting to check if Vivianne had started dinner yet or not.

Just as she stepped into the hallway, she nearly collided with Beth, who was coming out of her room with a tight-lipped expression. The sudden encounter caught them both off guard.

''Shit, sorry.'' The younger one apologized first, giving her housemate an awkward glance.

''It's alright,'' Beth brushed off, ''uh, were you on the phone just now?" She asked, her brow furrowing slightly.

Y/N nodded. ''Uh, yeah, with Kyra.''

Beth's expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her features. "Oh, Kyra." She murmured, her voice tight.

The younger girl simply stared at the winger, not knowing what to say to her words. "Is everything okay?" Y/N ventured, her voice hesitant as she searched Beth's face for any sign of what might be bothering her.

Beth's lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, she seemed lost in thought. When she finally spoke, her words were tinged with a hint of irritation. ''Everything's alright.''

Y/N offered a small, uneasy smile and nodded. "Oh, okay." She said, though her words felt hollow even to her own ears.

With a nod of acknowledgment, Beth turned to walk away. As she watched Beth disappear around the corner, she wondered if it had been something she had done. However, she couldn't recall saying or doing anything that day that would have provoked this kind of demeanor from the couple.

The young striker walked into the living room, noticing Vivianne bustling about in the kitchen. But what caught Y/N's attention was the hushed whispers exchanged between the couple, Beth and Vivianne not being subtle about their gossiping.

A sense of discomfort washed over the youngster as she hesitated in the doorway, unsure whether to interrupt or retreat unnoticed. But before she could make a decision, the Dutchwoman glanced up and caught her eye, her expression inscrutable.

''Hey, dinner is almost ready. Just some leftover pasta from yesterday.'' She informed Y/N, her tone somewhat forced as she attempted to maintain a facade of normalcy.

Y/N forced a smile. ''Nice, thanks, Viv.'' She answered, trying to ignore the awkwardness that hung in the air.

She retreated to the couch, feeling as if she wasn't welcome in the small space. Something was off, and she couldn't help but feel like she was on the outside looking in.

She scrolled on her phone for a few minutes before Vivianne called her to the table as the food was ready. As they gathered around the dinner table, the atmosphere remained strained, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

Vivianne served up the leftover pasta, her movements brisk as she avoided making eye contact with anyone. Beth sat across from Y/N, her expression unreadable as she picked at her food.

Y/N tried to focus on her food, but the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach made it difficult to swallow.

For a few moments, the only sound was the clinking of forks against plates, the silence punctuated only by the occasional awkward cough or clearing of throat.

Finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, Y/N opened her mouth. "So, um, what did you guys think about the match?'' She asked the pair, her voice coming out more high than she had intended.

As if on cue, Vivianne and Beth glanced up from their plates at the same time.

''It was tough, but it shouldn't have been tough. We lacked a clear tactic.'' The experienced striker answered, filling up the silence.

Y/N nodded, relieved at least one of them responded to her attempt at conversation. She took a peek at Beth, who did not seem amused in the slightest to talk about the surprising defeat earlier that day.

''It was just another match of us fucking everything up, and you kids having to unfuck it all.'' Beth said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

The youngest's eyes widened slightly at the cutting remark, not expecting those words to come out of the Brit's mouth.

Vivianne shifted uncomfortably in her seat, casting a quick glance at Y/N before fixing her gaze on her partner. "Beth, that's enough.'' Her voice was stern, warning Beth that this was not the way to go about this.

But Beth ignored her girlfriend, her eyes fixed on Y/N with an intensity that made her squirm. ''No, she needs to learn to not talk about teammates that way, especially the ones that have just gotten back from serious injuries, and need time to reintegrate into the group.''

Y/N felt a flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck, she cast a desperate look at Vivianne, silently pleading for her to intervene and diffuse the situation before it escalated any further.

''Beth, I wasn't-''

''You weren't what? You weren't talking shit to Kyra about us right after the match? You weren't talking shit about us to Kyra on the phone just now?'' The oldest continued in an accusing tone.

Vivianne let out a sigh, her frustration evident as she attempted to defuse the situation. ''Beth.'' She said firmly, her gaze shifting between the two other people at the table.

''I wasn't talking shit about you guys. I would never do that.'' Y/N managed to let out, offended at the mere idea of her not appreciating the two women who'd let her move in with them a 1,5 years ago.

''Y/N, we heard you. On the pitch after the match, with Kyra.'' Beth responded bluntly.

Y/N swallowed hard, slightly ashamed of being caught. ''We were just... we were just frustrated, okay? That comment wasn't directed at any of you guys, it was more at Jonas, to be fair.''

The couple grew silent at the admission, realizing they had greatly misunderstood the two young girls' conversation. ''About Jonas?'' Vivianne repeated, her voice carrying a note of embarrassment.

The young striker nodded. ''Yeah, me and Kyra have just been a bit upset with our game time, that's all. It felt like a repeat of the Tottenham game.''

Beth and Vivianne exchanged a glance, coming to a silent understanding. ''We're sorry for jumping the gun on that one, darling. We really thought we needed to teach you some manners.'' The Brit nervously apologized with a chuckle.

''It's alright, we probably should've been a bit more discreet.'' Y/N brushed her apology off with a hand gesture.

''No, you two are in your full right to complain.'' Vivianne retorted, agreeing on the playing time matter.

The teenager waited a few moments before elaborating. ''I don't mind sitting on the bench, it's great to get rest, you know? But it almost feels like he doesn't trust me to get the game starting or something. I like to think I did great last season, so this kind of sucks.'' She opened up, not having voiced these thoughts to anyone but Kyra.

''You did amazing last season, you stepped up when we needed someone and the team will never forget that.'' Beth smiled, squeezing the youngster' s hand.

''It seems that Jonas forgot.'' Y/N muttered bitterly, looking down at her empty plate.

The couple silenced themselves at her mumbled words, not knowing what the appropriate response would be to cheer her up about the situation. They were indirectly responsible for the young girl to not get as much game time anymore, so whatever they would tell her, she would most likely not feel much better afterwards.

''Just focus on what you're doing right now. Show up to training, recover well, maximize everything in the minutes you do get. Show him that he should trust you to start, and that you deserve to have that spot in the line-up.'' Vivianne chimed in, her voice soft but resolute.

Y/N nodded at the older woman's words, though her demeanor still seemed dejected. ''Yeah, I'll continue to do that.'' It came out somewhat passive aggressive.

''I know it doesn't fix the situation, but you're my personal star girl, regardless whether you play or not.'' Beth softly smiled at her.

The teen managed to crack a small smile back, appreciating the sentiment. ''Thanks, Beth.''

''You're mine too.'' Vivianne added.

''Hey, that's my compliment for her! Find another one if you want to be cute!'' Beth scolded her partner, dramatically feigning annoyance.

The Dutchwoman frowned. ''Everyone calls her ‘star girl'! You're not original either!'' She pouted back.

Y/N couldn't help but let out a chuckle at the banter between the couple, happily accepting the momentary distraction from her frustrations.

Beth playfully rolled her eyes. ''At least I'm complimenting her!''

''Sorry that I was just giving useful advice, Bethany.'' Vivianne retorted.

''Useful.'' The Brit repeated, her voice heavily tinged with sarcasm.

Vivianne's mouth gaped, pretending to be offended. ''It was useful! That's what I would have wanted to hear at 19 year-old.'' She defended herself.

''19 year-old's want to hear praise, Viv. They want to be called star girls, not receive a lecture.'' Beth quickly replied, with a smirk.

''Y/N, it was useful, right?'' The older striker turned towards the teenager.

''Yeah, Y/N, tell Miss Miedema how useful her advice was.'' Beth chorused her words, grinning from ear-to-ear.

The youngster simply glanced between the two of them, before picking up her empty plate and standing up from her seat. ''I'm taking this as my sign to leave.''

She ignored their pleas with a satisfied grin, making her way to the kitchen to dump her plate, and walking back to her room.

The couple watched her depart, sharing a knowing look, a hint of amusement dancing in their eyes. ''She's gonna call Kyra, isn't she?'' Vivianne chuckled.

''She so is.'' Beth agreed with a laugh.

requests are always welcome!