#best places to travel with girlfriends international

[immoral-stranger]

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 // 𝐋𝐍𝟒

Summary: “I got a nosebleed when you tried to kiss me. I told you — it’s like I’m fucking cursed!” — Or, in which an accident-prone girl stumbles and falls for everything, including Lando.

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem! reader

Word count: 23.2k (grab a snack)

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI ❀ Angst: injuries, hospitals, surgery, scars, blood, dead parent, mention of car crash. Smut: penetrative sex, oral (f! receiving), body insecurities, very vanilla. Fluff: idiots to lovers, so much pining and scheming. Other: inaccurate timeline and made-up race results. it's fiction, folks!

A/N: Posting this then falling off the face of the earth, because this fandom is scary. Kinda unedited for now. English is not my first language! ♡

Melbourne, Australia

Lando didn’t recognise you at first. Granted, he wasn’t the best at remembering faces, but usually if he’d met someone, he would remember them the second time around. Although, this wasn’t his second time seeing you, he would later learn. It was probably close to the tenth time. It had just been some time since your last encounter. For a logical reason, he would also later learn. 

Albert Park, 2024. Race day. That’s where he saw you this time. Walking down the paddock, next to Oscar and his girlfriend Jasmine, trying to keep up as the three of you made your way to the McLaren garage. Your hair getting messed up by the breeze, annoyingly sticking to your glossy lips, feet almost tripping on the seam of your baggy jeans. You were out of your element, putting on a brave smile — and Lando could tell. 

He didn’t realise he’d been staring at you, from his seat on the steps up to his motorhome, until you were out of eyeshot again, somewhere in the garage. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why you were familiar and it was killing him. If you were Australian, maybe that would explain it, since Lando had no way of keeping track of all of Oscar’s old friends. 

But you weren’t Australian. As he later walked into hospitality, he overheard a bubbly British accent talking to Jasmine and Oscar, an accent belonging to you. It confused him even more, really gnawed inside of him. He should know you, yet something wasn’t aligning, something wasn’t right. Oscar wouldn’t just fly anyone halfway across the globe. 

It all came crashing down when he heard Jasmine ask you a simple question. 

“Bunny, can you grab me a fork?”

Standing up from the table, you gave Lando a small smile as you caught his gaze, signalling that you at least knew who he was. 

Bunny, Bunny, Bunny. The nickname finally made him realise, finally made him recognise you. But you weren’t the Bunny he’d met at multiple races before. You didn’t look like she did. Or, you didn’t look like you used to. Bunny was Jasmine’s childhood friend who had gotten sick, who had stopped traveling, who had stopped coming to races at all. The girl before him however, wasn’t sick. You didn’t look weak in any sense. Nervous, fidgety, and out of place, sure — but never weak. 

As you were about to say a quiet hello to him as you walked past, Lando was already falling apart — socially that is. Words were stumbling out of his mouth before his brain had a chance to keep up. He cringed internally before he could even finish the sentence. 

“Holy shit, I thought you were dead!” 

He shocked you, that was obvious. Your eyes went wide as you struggled to say something in response. 

“Lando, you can’t just say that to someone,” Oscar chuckled from a few metres back. 

“I-I’m sorry, I just… didn’t recognise you,” Lando stuttered out as you still stood dumbfounded in front of him. 

“You don’t think I would’ve told you if my best friend died?” Jasmine butted in, standing from the table, placing herself beside you. 

She could tell that you didn’t know how to react, already expressing your nerves about how uncomfortable it would be to attend a race after not going for a very long time, afraid that people would ask too many questions.

“It’s alright, it’s been a long time,” you finally managed to say. 

Then, an uncomfortable silence fell over the four of you. It was like you knew that you should explain why it had been such a long time, but you didn’t know how to do it —casually explaining the second most traumatic experience of your, thus far, relatively short life. It wasn’t casual at all, and you couldn’t even try to fake it. 

“Ehm, I’ll go get that fork for you Jazz,” you broke the silence, swiftly excusing yourself to go back to the catering table. 

Oscar couldn’t stop chuckling and Jasmine looked borderline offended, something she tended to do, a resting bitch-face of sorts. Lando felt like the stupidest, most socially inept person alive, mentally facepalming himself as he watched you leave. This was going to be a long day. 

Lando’s race however, was frustratingly short. 

You and Jasmine watched the race from the garage, surrounded by muddled mechanics, blinking monitors and loud noises. It really was a circus, a well-oiled machine, fascinating to watch. You’d forgotten how fun it could be. Also, how nerve-wracking it was to be standing next to Jasmine while her boyfriend — love of her life, light of her eye — was going 300 km/h, head to head with insanely competitive people, in big death traps. 

The early races of the 2023 season that you had managed to catch in person hadn’t been too impressive, from McLaren’s standpoint. Your humble opinion was that anyone who even sat in one of those cars was more courageous and impressive than you would ever manage to be. As the last season went on, you had learnt to trust the process, but both you and Jasmine would be lying if you said that 2024 didn’t look like an even better year for the brightly papaya-coloured team you were rooting for.  

With both drivers in good starting positions and Verstappen’s brakes catching fire on the third lap, Jasmine couldn’t contain her excitement, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet next to you. Ferrari’s in the lead and McLaren fighting for that glorious third spot. It wasn’t until Lando had a chance to pass Leclerc that the castle in the air came crumbling down. Ooh’s and aah’s filled the garage as you watched the scene unfold on a monitor.

“Oh, fuck,” you said under your breath, knowing that barely anyone would be able to hear you in the crowded space. “Is it over for him?”

Jasmine had been too busy squealing over Oscar going into third that she failed to realise that it was on the cost of Lando. That was until his car came rolling into the pit lane with irreparable damage from making contact with Leclerc. 

You’d seen it happen before, but that didn’t change the feeling. Your heart basically lodges itself in your throat, making you unable to breathe for a couple seconds. And then it was the aftermath… Seeing the driver leave their car, head hung low, just wanting to scream at the world in frustration but bottling it all up inside. 

Leclerc wouldn’t even get a penalty, it was just how racing worked sometimes. That didn’t change the feeling of complete utter failure for Lando. You could tell that as he, with assertive steps, made his way to his driver’s room, slamming the door shut so hard that it only flew back open again. 

“Bunny.” Jasmine grabbed your arm to get your attention, leaning closer so that you would hear her. “One of us has to go ask if he’s alright. He doesn’t have anyone here with him.” 

“Doesn’t he have an entire team to do that?” you wondered. 

Surely, they didn’t send these drivers out without having enough support from the team when something went wrong. Surely, you thought. The look on Jasmine’s face told you the opposite. The fact that no one was running after Lando to his room was also quite telling. Or maybe… they knew better than to disturb him. Maybe Jasmine was setting you up for failure by asking you to comfort someone who didn’t want to be comforted. 

“He’s gonna need someone who’s not obsessed with performance and profit. Trust me, the people on this team may be nice, but they are not human when it comes to things like this,” Jasmine explained, and you took her word for it. 

“Am I the best option?”

You didn’t know him. And you were awkward. But so was he… Yet, you couldn’t even get your little brother to stop crying by making him laugh or comforting him — let alone a grown man, like Lando. 

“Please,” she insisted, and you could tell that she was serious. There was no point in arguing with her. Seeing the rest of the race with Oscar battling to keep his podium position would be enough of a feat for her poor emotions. She wouldn’t be able to walk away from it. 

You weren’t even sure if you were allowed to walk back there, but there was also no one stopping you when you did it. Your steps were the opposite to Lando’s assertive ones as you made your way to his driver’s room. You had no idea what to expect when you reached the already open door… 

… but Lando, sat on his little bench, racing suit halfway off, lazily scrolling on his phone was not it. 

“I understand that I’m most definitely not the person you would want to talk to right now, but Jasmine said that you were here alone and I just wanted to ask if you’re okay,” you rambled out way too quickly. 

It got his attention, looking up from his phone, but he didn’t say a word. He was mostly shocked to see that you were the first person to come talk to him. He had expected Jasmine, or maybe someone from the team that he wouldn’t want to talk to anyway. But not you. You had no reason to even be nice to him after how weird he’d been. 

“Uhm, so this is me asking that,” you reminded him when his silence got too much for you. 

“I’m fine,” Lando sighed, dragging his fingers through his sweaty curls, getting flashbacks of what had happened all over again.

You could tell from the look on his face that he, in fact, was not fine.   

It was toxic and harmful, that his first instinct when something like this happened was to immediately check his phone to see what people were saying about it online. But he had done it anyway. And sure enough, there were people blaming him — calling him reckless and a whiny little kid, finally getting what he deserved. There were also people calling Leclerc out, but Lando somehow couldn’t focus on it.

Because the thing he saw most of when he was scrolling through twitter was your face. Maybe that was why he was even more surprised to see that it was you standing in the doorway to his room and not someone else.  

“Do you know that we’ve gone viral?” he asked you, referring to the phone in his hand. He couldn’t help but let out a little laugh under his breath. 

“No?” 

You looked confused as Lando scooted over to make space for you to sit down beside him. You didn’t have any social media, and Lando knew. He definitely hadn’t tried to look you up after your encounter earlier to see why on earth he hadn’t recognised you. It had gotten him nowhere. You had no accounts of your own and Jasmine hadn’t posted any photos of you. He had stopped himself before searching up old paddock photos. So, it wasn’t a surprise that you didn’t know about the video that was circulating around right now.

“Apparently, someone was filming when I said that I thought you had died. It’s quite a funny clip,” he clarified, tilting his phone to show you the screen. 

He watched as you looked at the clip, a gentle giggle leaving your mouth at how ridiculous it was. Your smile then turned into concern, seeing the amount of interactions the post had earned. 

“Is that not bad publicity for you?” 

“I don’t care about that,” Lando said honestly. “But I am truly sorry for saying that to you.” 

Thinking someone had died was a new low even for him, and saying it to your face was just unexplainable behaviour. Yet, he still couldn’t understand why he hadn’t recognised you. Sure, he knew that you had been sick and then… probably gotten well again? But did that change your appearance? Maybe he just hadn’t really looked at you before. 

“I can’t blame you, Lando — I probably looked dead the last time you saw me,” you laughed.

You couldn’t remember exactly when it was, sometime mid last season. Right before it got really bad, but while your condition was stable enough for you to go to races. Maybe it was Silverstone. You had a vague memory of seeing Lando on that podium. You knew that you had looked horrible either way. When you thought about it, maybe Lando had never seen you completely healthy. 

“There was something wrong with your lungs, right?” he asked, wondering if he was remembering things correctly. 

“Just the left one. I had spontaneous pneumothorax three times in a year,” you explained, earning a confused look from Lando before adding, “Collapsed lung, basically air was leaking from the lung out into my chest.” 

He raised his eyebrows as you spoke. You made it sound a lot more trivial than what he assumed it was. 

It happening one time wasn’t actually that uncommon. Apparently, lungs collapsed right, left, and centre. It was usually a quite easy fix as well, not even something that required surgery. But when it happened to you, that third time — it was obvious that the problem was much larger. There was multiple surgeries and constant checkups. There were ugly scars and never-ending breathing exercises. 

It was a lot, for anyone. Even worse for someone just about to graduate from their bachelor’s programme. Your life had fallen apart, to say the least, and it wasn’t something you gladly talked about, so making it sound trivial was your way of coping. If Lando realised that was another question. 

“And I’m sat here moping about a DNF,” he heard himself mumble before realising how insensitive that might’ve come across. “But you’re okay now?” 

“One final checkup left, practically as good as new,” you said, putting on a smile. “You do know that it’s not comparable though, right?” 

Lando didn’t understand at first, so you kept on speaking. 

“Me, having a life threatening medical condition — and you, having a bad day at work?” 

Maybe you were the one sounding insensitive now, knowing full well that his work wasn’t normal in any way, shape, or form. But that was the opposite of your intentions, so you kept on rambling to try and save yourself. 

“You’re allowed to be selfish and angry about something going wrong in your life without thinking about how other people might have it worse,” you added. “Because let’s be honest, someone is always going to be in a worse situation. That doesn’t take away from your right to feel things about what’s happening in your life.” 

What had happened with Leclerc was shitty as fuck and if you were Lando, you’d be crying, cursing everyone and their mothers that even had a slight connection to Ferrari. But you weren’t a professional race car driver. You were an emotional young woman. What you were trying to say was that Lando had a right to even be a fraction more emotional than what he was showing right now. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Lando answered simply after a moment of silence. 

He wasn’t used to people telling him he had a right to be emotional. He’d been told since he was a child by people in the industry that being a whiny little kid would get him nowhere. Maybe you had a point. Whatever he was doing now to deal with his emotions (which was ignoring them completely), obviously wasn’t working with how he was feeling inside. 

“You don’t have to say anything to me if you don’t want to, just allow yourself to feel, because even I can tell that you’re shutting yourself out and I don’t even know you.”

Your voice was soft as you spoke. Your accent reminded him of the people he grew up around. That was something he hadn’t realised before. He was starting to think that he had been completely self-absorbed all the other times he’d met you. You were almost… pretty, when you sat there next to him in ugly fluorescent lighting. Maybe it was the way you seemed to actually care that made his brain a little mushy. 

You were scared to cross a line with him by saying too much, so you decided to retreat. Standing up from the bench, creating more space between you, you took a stance in the doorway again. It felt like you couldn’t breathe in his tiny little room. 

“I should probably go back to see how Oscar is doing,” you said, signalling with your hand to the garage. 

Lando looked up at you with big eyes, nodding understandingly. You could almost visibly see how he was holding back from telling you that he was, in fact, not okay. 

You really had no business pushing him to say something to you. But, something inside of you was calling you a coward for not even giving it a try. For not even giving it a second chance, trying to make him feel better about himself. It all reminded you a little all too well of something that your mother always used to tell you. Fuck it.

“My mum taught me to always linger in doorways for a couple extra seconds before leaving someone,” you said, feeling heat rise to your cheeks at the mere thought of how stupid this was. “That’s usually when people get to thinking about things they haven’t had the courage to say yet, since you never know when you’re next going to see the person.” 

You were over-explaining it, pressing your nails into the soft skin of your palms as you got nervous. You were trying to say that you always resolved to leave people feeling better than they did before you talked to them. 

Lando cracked a small smile as he watched you stumble over your words. He had now decided that you were pretty, standing in the doorway, your gaze oscillating between him and the floor. 

“I’ll ask one more time and then I’ll go — Lando, are you okay?” 

“No,” he sighed. He couldn’t hide it. “But I will be.” 

“It’s never okay after something like that happens. I keep on blaming myself for things I have no power over, but that’s got to stop at some point, right? I have to learn at some point,” he continued, voice coming across as slightly defeated. 

You recognised his mentality, Oscar usually said something similar after experiencing a setback. You still didn’t understand how he wasn’t more visibly upset, yet you now knew that he was harbouring it all inside. It made you feel better that he had actually said it out lout — that he wasn’t fine. You also felt a little bit worse, getting the feeling that his self-deprecation was far more severe than you originally thought. He blamed himself without good reason. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know you well enough to say the right thing now, but for what it’s worth, I’m so impressed by you,” you admitted truthfully, hoping you weren’t showing pity. He was actually such an inspiration, such an idol. Even when he sat there, looking like he had run through hell and back, fighting his brain to not feel sorry for himself. 

“Have I done enough lingering to make my mother proud, you think?” you joked, tilting your head while you looked at him. 

“Yeah,” he smiled. “I’ll join you out there in a minute.” 

Oscar had secured his third position and his first home race podium. Getting to see him up on that podium, covered head to toe in champagne was so special to you. Even though you were Jasmine’s friend first, you had really grown to love Oscar during their years of dating. Although, Lando never managed to make his way to the celebrations, something that lingered in the back of your mind. 

You had tried so hard to get it right, to say the right thing — to make him feel better about himself. That was more than most people did. He was used to people sucking up to him, but this was different. This was honest. You had no reason to be nice to him. You had no reason to even give him your time of day. But you did it anyway. Lando didn’t even think to say thank you before you left. He should’ve, because you were right. He didn’t know the next time he would see you, hell with your track record you might actually be dead tomorrow, and it was a shame if you didn’t know that your words had helped. 

Lando wasn’t sure how long he stayed in his room, sitting on that uncomfortable little bench. Letting his thoughts get the best of him while simultaneously trying to think of what you’d said to him. That he should feel, that he should think this through. He was just hoping that what he was feeling was healing more than it was self-destructing. 

He stopped spiralling when Oscar came back to his room to change, just next to Lando’s. He was covered in champagne, exuding pure joy of getting a home race podium. While Lando was happy for his teammate, trying his best to give him a heartfelt congratulations, he also couldn’t stop thinking about how that trophy could’ve been his. The first one of the season. 

What Lando didn’t know was that Oscar was very much aware of all of this, having learnt how to read his teammate’s expressions quite well after spending so much time together. He knew that Lando took defeat harder, or at least he showed it more clearly than Oscar ever did. He also knew that he needed someone to… turn on the faucet for him, making him feel like it was okay to spew out feelings about how the race had gone, without judging him for what he might say. 

“Did Jasmine come check on you?” Oscar asked, leaning in the doorway to Lando’s room. 

Lando would never be able to look the same way at a person standing in a doorway without thinking about what you had said about lingering, staying for a couple extra seconds. 

“No, uhm, Bunny did,” he replied, feeling himself smile for some reason. He felt odd using your nickname, as he had no idea where it originated from. Yet, it was just so you.

“What was that look?” Oscar laughed. Lando’s smile wasn’t just a normal one. Oscar could almost guess what had happened, that was just the kind of person you were. 

“She’s different from when I last met her,” Lando explained, feeling heat rise to his face as he wondered just about how transparent his emotions actually were. “Oscar, she’s trouble.” 

“This is about to be hilarious, isn’t it?” 

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Greater London, UK

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Lando didn’t have to wait long to see you again. On a week without racing, he decided on a whim to stay in England for a couple of days longer than planned after debriefing at the MTC. It was someone’s birthday — a mechanic, an engineer — he really didn’t know, but a bunch of people from the team ended up in a pub, drinking to their hearts’ content. It was nice, but most of all, it was relaxing. It wasn’t Monaco, where everyone had their eyes on him as soon as he stepped outside. He could blend in better with the masses here. 

As could Oscar. Lando had never really seen Oscar drunk before. Apart from now. Putting him in a cab alone and sending him home wasn’t an option when the poor lad could barely stand on his own. That’s how Lando ended up in his and Jasmine’s shared flat. Even helping Oscar up the stairs had been a mission, especially since Lando wasn’t that sober either. It was alright, they were young and without responsibilities for the rest of that week at least. The team leaders didn’t even have to know…

“Bunny is in the guest room, but you can stay on the couch if you want,” he heard Jasmine say from the kitchen, getting Oscar a glass of water, as Lando had just watched her wrestle him to bed. Jasmine was a short woman, but when she set her mind to something, she could move mountains. Or, her boyfriend.

It took Lando’s inebriated brain a concerning amount of time to figure out that Bunny meant you. You were Bunny. And he liked you. Or he thought so. He liked the picture of you that he had built up in his head after your conversation in his driver’s room. 

He wasn’t sure what you were doing here. Maybe you and Jasmine had a girls’ night when Oscar was away. He didn’t actually know that much about you, even less so when his brain was compromised by alcohol. 

Lando thought he was being sneaky as he walked over to the guest room, where the door stood ajar, but the wooden floors creaked beneath his feet. He could spot your head of hair peeping out from under the sheets, shoulders covered by a papaya-coloured shirt that he assumed was originally Oscar’s. Your eyes were closed but you weren’t sleeping. 

“Lando, I can feel you staring,” you almost whispered, cracking a smile but still not opening your eyes.  

“M’sorry,” he mumbled, suddenly feeling ashamed.  

You reached out to turn on the lamp that stood on the nightstand. Lando watched as you sat up in bed to get a better view of him, looking amused as soon as you caught his gaze. “Drunk?” 

“A little.” 

“Did you two have fun?” 

“Yeah, I’ve never seen Oscar this drunk before,” Lando said, letting out a soft laugh. He’d been like Bambi on ice getting out of the cab and up the stairs. It was certainly a bonding experience between teammates. “Jasmine had to wrestle him to bed.” 

The shirt looked huge on you, it was too big to even be Oscar’s. That was a nicer thought, for Lando. As you sat up, the sheets pooled at your waist, with a bare leg sticking out on the side. For a second, it struck him that you probably had no trousers on. 

No, nope, look at her face Lando. 

Your face was bare. If he stared long enough he would probably start counting your birthmarks and imperfections. It almost looked freshly washed. Maybe you and Jasmine had done face masks. He didn’t really know what a girls’ night entailed. 

“Your hair is shorter.” 

Lando said it out loud the moment he realised it. His drunk brain didn’t let him keep anything in. 

“It was easier to manage while I was back at the hospital,” you explained, on instinct reaching up to touch it. 

“Fuck, right, the surgery!” 

Oscar had told him about it and Lando had somehow forgotten. He could blame the alcohol for now. You only having one checkup left and being practically as good as new had been too good to be true. 

“Uh, how did it go?” 

“Simple checkup turned into an emergency surgery and two weeks in a hospital bed.” You shrugged, as if you had told him what you had eaten for dinner, not showing any signs of how awful it had truly been. “But I survived.” 

Lando nodded. “That’s good, I guess. Scary, but good that you’re good.”

How many times could he use the word ’good’ in one sentence? 

The both of you turned silent after that, unsure of what to say next. You watched him as he stood in the doorway, his feet tentatively moving as his eyes flickered around the room. You started to smile as you realised what he was doing. 

“Is this you lingering in the doorway?”

“I think so,” Lando shyly admitted. “Is it working?” 

You chuckled, still smiling all sleepily at him like what he had said was funny, or special. It made Lando’s heart hurt and his cheeks burn. 

Truth be told, you could’ve used some lingering right now. You had talked to your father and to Jasmine of course, but you still felt like you had this pressure over your chest for things you hadn’t said. 

You could’ve told him about how you’d gone alone to the hospital because you’d thought it would be quick, but ended up getting prepped and rushed into surgery before anyone you knew even had time to make it there to be with you. There had been no one there to hold your hand. 

You could’ve told him about the scar on your chest that was now worse than ever before. It was larger, more red, and way more noticeable. You’d cried trying on shirts before going to dinner with Jasmine tonight, which you hadn’t had the heart to tell her about. You’d wanted to cancel the entire thing, before sucking it up and putting on a turtleneck. 

You could’ve talked about it for ages, knowing that maybe he would listen. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Not right now. Not to him. 

“I think we should both go to sleep, Lando,” you said, yawning comically loud as you turned off the light before falling back on the mattress. 

Lando didn’t push you. Instead, he chuckled and said a soft goodnight. He knew he maybe should’ve pushed you to talk. He sensed that he could’ve done it. But it also didn’t feel like the right time. Not when he was drunk. Not when you were tired. 

His eyes longed on you for a couple extra seconds, you looked adorable with the sheets practically swallowing you whole. He then walked back into the kitchen where Jasmine was standing, putting wine glasses into a display cabinet. Maybe you weren’t entirely sober either. 

He took a seat at the kitchen island, slouching over as he rested his face in his hands. Jasmine smiled at him, tilting her head to the side as if to silently ask him if something was wrong. 

“Jasmine, has she always looked like that?” Lando said, unsure of what he was even asking.

“Bunny?” Jasmine questioned, leaning her elbows on the counter, scrunching her eyebrows in confusion. 

“She looks different from when I first met her.” 

Maybe you just weren’t sick anymore. Maybe Lando had just been a right idiot the other times he’d met you and not properly cared to look at you. Maybe you had been shy and he had been self-obsessed. Maybe it didn’t matter what had happened before. 

“Well, for a start, she has two working lungs now,” she argued, a laugh slipping out under her breath as if what she said was obvious. “Got the colour back in her skin and gained some healthy weight, I think.” 

Lando hummed in response. It made sense. You did look different. That was the only sane explanation as to why you were constantly on his mind. 

“Why did you ask?” 

She looked at him for an answer, her eyes staring him down, searching for eye contact that he wasn’t able to hold. He couldn’t help but turn to the side so that she wouldn’t see how pink his face was.

“Holy shit, you like her!” 

Jasmine let out a gasp as she realised, having to contain herself to not squeal and wake the entire building. Lando had nothing to say all of a sudden, his drunkenness not showing at all.  

“You’re not even going to deny it?” 

He quickly stood up to go to the bathroom, ignoring her question and hiding his dumbstruck smile. 

“Goodnight Jasmine.” 

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you felt your hands grow sweaty against the stack of papers you held in them. The costume looked nice — almost too nice to be on your body. Beautiful, sparkly platform heels. Delicate lace and trims on the dress. The corset showed off a waist you didn’t know you had. It wasn’t you, so thank god you were acting like someone else. 

“Go on, Magenta. Say your next line,” Jasmine urged you from her spot on the bed in your childhood room. The old canopy and fairy lights that decorated your bed made her look ethereal in a way.  

There was something heartfelt, seeing your oldest friend in that room again, now a whole lot older than when the two of you would play with dolls on your floor. When you dropped out of university, you had to move back in with your dad and little brother. It hadn’t been awful, but not ideal either. 

Magenta was the character you were playing in your local theatre's production of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. You’d been part of the crew at the little theatre for most of your life and now, when you had no classes to worry about and no summer job lined up for you — being part of a musical over the summer seemed like the perfect waste of time. You were going back to university in the autumn, so you felt like you had a chance to have some fun this summer. 

“…to sing and dance once more to your dark refrains. To take that step to the right...” 

Magenta was the opposite of you. She was bold, and sexy. She had a sultry voice and was dressed in a stereotypical maid costume. Showing off both legs and cleavage. It was a fun change, but a scary one too. 

“But it's the pelvic thrust… That really drives you insane?”

Jasmine couldn’t keep a straight face as she acted like your counterpart, starting to giggle like a schoolgirl, trying not to get told off by the teacher for laughing. The lines made no sense to her. 

“And our World will do The Time Warp again — Jazz, you’re not focusing!” you exclaimed, joining her laugher as you fell on the bed next to her, ruffling the huge amount of decorative pillows you had on there.   

“This was so much easier when you were doing Moulin Rouge, because then I at least understood the plot,” Jasmine scoffed as she looked over the manuscript, leaning into your shoulder as you both relaxed into the pile of pillows. 

“What do you meeean your character is a maid who is also an alien? Babe, why are they going to space?” she continued, gesticulating wildly with her hands at the pages. 

“It’s camp, Jazz. Or maybe just written by someone on acid,” you laughed. 

Rocky Horror was not the simplest of musicals to explain to someone who had never heard of it before. It was camp, and queer, and rock’n’roll. There were aliens, and virgins, and a man in golden underwear. It was a nightmare — and the most fun thing one could imagine. 

“Who have you invited for the opening night? I’m so sorry again that we can’t come,” Jasmine asked, turning over to lay on her back, staring up at the fairy lights. 

The premiere was only weeks away at this point, but you had known for awhile that Oscar and her were busy celebrating her parents wedding anniversary on the same exact date. She had kept on apologising and you had kept on telling her that is wasn’t that big of a deal. They could come on the second weekend, or the third, or any weekend during the entire summer. It didn’t matter to you.

“Don’t apologise,” you reassured her. “I haven’t invited anyone. Dad has to go with Matteo to his first ever football game.” 

Matteo was your little brother. He was the sweetest kid you knew, albeit biased. He was also the most anxious kid you knew, so you could already guess that performing well during his game would be important to him. Your father had to be there, even for your own sanity. 

“But you need someone there, cheering you on. This is a big deal!” 

It really wasn’t. You’d done it alone before. 

“Jazz, Matteo is 10. He needs dad there more than I do,” you remarked. 

“I didn’t just mean your dad. You need someone there in general, Bunny.” 

You really didn’t. You’d done a lot of things without someone holding your hand along the way. 

“Lando should be in England on that day, y’know, some MTC thing,” Jasmine hinted, her gaze catching yours. 

You thought you heard her wrong at first. She never talked about Lando casually. From what you had gathered, he and Oscar hadn’t even been that close up until the start of this season. Now, you knew that they hung out, but what did that have to do with you and your little musical? 

“Huh? That’s just absurd. He would hate it.” 

If you were allowed to be judgmental for a moment, you would assume that Lando had never seen a musical in his life. Let alone something as weird as Rocky Horror. You also didn’t understand at all why he should come watch you, on his own. That would honestly just make you feel like the joke was on you. 

“I think he likes you,” she commented plainly, as if it was clear as day and not at all something from her wildest imagination. 

She might as well have been speaking Greek. You did not understand Greek. 

“Why would he like me?” you squeaked, your eyes going wide.  

“You’re hot and funny, maybe a bit odd, but people like that. Why wouldn’t he like you?” 

“I’m sat here flipping pages of a manuscript, while he is flipping some model over in bed,” you expressed, throwing your copy of the script at her.  

Maybe that was harsh. You didn’t know Lando well enough to say something like that with confidence. But, you did know yourself well enough to say that you weren’t his type. 

“So, what? He could flip you over!”

You snorted in response, hiding your laugh. Jasmine was being ridiculous right now.  

“It’s like you lost all your confidence when you got sick,” she said, her voice suddenly softened. “Remember our trip to Malaga? That Bunny would’ve jumped on his dick without thinking twice.” 

It was crazy how she could make your trip to Malaga sound sentimental, or like an old memory of how you used to be. Malaga had been anything but orthodox. A group of teenage girls — too young to be drinking, making questionable decisions and racking up their body counts. 

“I guess I grew up, Jasmine. I also shouldn’t do something reckless with Oscar’s teammate.” You shrugged, standing up, ready to be over with this conversation and to start rehearsing again. 

“That is if he actually fancied me, which he does not,” you decided. 

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Lando didn’t know what he was doing. When he sneakily asked Oscar if he was doing something after their meetings, he had really been thinking about you. In his mind, maybe they could’ve done something the four of them, so it wouldn’t be as obvious that it was you he wanted to see again. 

But Oscar had an anniversary dinner to go to with Jasmine. And you — you were in some off off-West End musical. He really had to get to know you better, because that was not something he would have ever imagined about you. 

Not that he was imagining you doing things… 

Oscar had told him to go. Lando had questioned his entire existence. 

Yet, he still somehow ended up outside of the small theatre on a Friday night. He wasn’t even sure if he was technically still in London, that’s how remote the little community he was in felt. Going out clubbing with Max was his plan B, if this turned out to be as ridiculous as it sounded. 

The Rocky Horror Picture Show — that was what the poster outside said. Nothing but a big pair of messily painted red lips were on it. He had no idea what he was in for and Google hadn’t been much help. It looked like a mixture of the story about Frankenstein’s monster and a drag queen show. 

He was early, arriving right in the middle of the final dress rehearsal. Something that Oscar had recommended he did, to not get recognised as much and to be able to leave swiftly if he turned out to absolutely hate it. Lando wondered how much of an avid musical-goer Oscar was, or maybe he had just gone to yours. 

The theatre was small, probably not more than a hundred seats. It was classic looking, with red velvet chairs and heavy curtains lining the stage. He slid into one of the seats at the very back, looking with anticipation at the stage. The room was maybe filled to one third with what he mostly assumed were the cast’s friends and family. 

The stage was decorated with delicately handmade props. It showed a grand hall with checkered flooring, a wooden staircase at the back. Multiple odd sculptures and a wonky replica of the Mona Lisa. All under bright red lighting. 

Lando didn’t even have time to take it all in before actors entered the stage. 

“Are you having a party?” said a girl in a baby pink dress and a comically blonde wig. Her voice was so high and brittle that it was almost annoying. 

“You’ve arrived on a rather special night. It’s one of the master’s affairs,” answered a man with a fake hunchback, his long white hair making him look nothing but creepy. 

“Oh, lucky him,” said the girl again. 

That’s when he heard a voice he recognised. A voice belonging to you. Sliding down the bannister of the stairs, you whipped an old-timey feather duster around.

“You're lucky. He's lucky. I'm lucky. We're all lucky!” you practically yelled as you made your way to the girl, who looked positively terrified by you. Her looser boyfriend (Lando assumed), who stood by her side looked even more frightened. 

It had been two minutes and Lando already rooted for the weird people — meaning you and the man with the hunchback. You were in what he would call a… slutty maid costume. Except it wasn’t slutty; it was more artful. What was he even thinking? 

Your wig was large and curly, the dark red colour of it suited you well. Your makeup was dramatic, and your entire costume was covered in silver sequins and glitter. You were not the nervous, out-of-her-element girl that he had seen in Australia a couple months ago. Right now, you were acting completely like someone else. And you were damn good at it. 

Much like he imagined a musical to be, the conversation immediately turned into song. The Time Warp, he had heard of that one before. The stage flooded with an ensemble of dancers, dressed in tuxedos. The plot of this musical was still something completely alien. Maybe it barely had a plot.

Lando couldn’t decide if he loved it or hated it. He felt like maybe that was the entire point of the show. Like it was supposed to be annoying, but also so colourful and odd that you couldn’t help but be amazed by it.  

Even with so much happening on stage, all he could focus on was you. You didn’t dance or sing like someone who’d injured her lungs not that long ago. You performed like you loved it, having a hard time hiding your smile even if your character was more of a moody type. 

Lando, too, found himself smiling. He was astonished by how such a small production still could archive basically perfection. The singing, the choreography — it was like watching something prerecorded. It had to be a passion project for all of you, because he wasn’t sure small theatre productions were the most lucrative thing. 

At the end of the number, the dance ended with everyone falling to the floor. That’s when it happened, when he for the first time in the performance, heard something that didn’t sound like perfection. No, that was the sound of someone in pain. 

His eyes tried to find you in the pile of bodies on the stage. 

You’d practiced it a million times. Falling over — gracefully that is — in high heels wasn’t the easiest of tasks. But never once before had it hurt like his. A stinging pain that never ended, so you couldn’t help but scream. It gathered everyone’s attention, quickly stopping the act and flicking on the normal lights. 

A broken ankle. Your broken ankle and your yelping voice. It hurt like hell.

You could see how the people around you started to panic, talking about a first aid kit and getting a stand-in ready to take your place. You couldn’t focus on anything but the pain, your eyes filled up with tears, clouding your vision. 

God, you would pass out if this pain didn’t stop. 

Lando watched it all unfold from his seat. Seeing you sat in the middle of the stage, clenching your hands over your foot, tears falling down your cheeks, taking your mascara with them. 

Ironically, something started to hurt inside of Lando, and he didn’t know how to react. Could he sneak out so you wouldn’t have known he was here? No, no. He was going to see if he could be of any help. That was the only right thing to do. In seconds, he had left his seat and started to march down to the stage. 

“Lando?”

Your voice was pathetic. Your tears clogged your throat and you felt ashamed, so fucking ashamed. 

You knew that Jasmine had talked to Oscar, and that Oscar had talked to Lando. But seeing him by the edge of the stage, a worried look on his face, wasn’t something you actually thought would happen. You did not understand why he would’ve wanted to come. 

“Is your foot okay? The fall looked pretty bad,” Lando said as he crouched down in front of you, looking more at your face than at your ankle so as not to scare you more than what was already inevitable.  

“You saw me fall? Oh fuck, why are you even here?” you groaned in pain. 

You didn’t mean for it to come across as rude — you just didn’t have much of a choice over your emotions right now. It was nice that he was there, so fucking nice. 

“Oscar told me to come — I mean, I wanted to come too,” he emphasised. 

Lando didn’t exactly know how to help you now that he had waltzed up on the stage like some knight in shining armour. He looked around to see a man in his mid-thirties come forward with a bright red first aid kit. He tried not to raise his eyebrows too much at the man — dressed in his costume, looking like if Elvis Presley had been in a motorcycle gang.  

The man tried not to look too much at Lando either — having known you most of your life and never once seen you bring a boy to the theatre. 

“Darling, that’s broken,” the man said as soon as he got a view of your ankle. 

Lando could’ve said the same thing. 

“No, it’s not Eddie. Just bruised I think,” you tried to tell yourself, and Eddie.  

Eddie, whose character in the musical coincidentally was also named Eddie, was your on-sight medic, working as a nurse when he was not busy acting and singing in his studded leather vest and greaser-like hairstyle. 

Bruising meant you could suffer through it. Broken meant spending the summer in a cast and missing every single one of your performances. That’s what you got for wanting to have a fun, selfish summer for once in your life. 

“Bunny, I don’t know how to tell you this in a nicer way — but it’s broken,” Eddie persisted, rummaging through the first aid kit for something to help with the pain. 

“B-but the show…” 

You said it quietly, but Lando heard. Your voice was heartbreaking. 

It showed how much this meant to you, and he realised now that you were probably embarrassed. He drew parallels to his own life and career, and how much a clumsy mistake could leave its marks for a long time forward. Even if this was only a hobby, it was still important. 

“I can wrap it up for you, but it won’t heal unless you go to a hospital,” he continued, not waiting for an answer before he began to gently move your foot. 

You whimpered in pain, biting down on your lower lip to not scream as it shifted. Grasping for just about anything to hold on to, you found Lando’s hand. You didn’t have time to think it through, but Lando had a lifetime. 

Your nails were painted black to match your costume, and your hand felt so small and cold in his own, yet you were strong as hell as you gripped his fingers in pain. He suffered through it, knowing that what you were feeling was a million times worse. 

Eddie wrapped your ankle in a tight bandage. Lando could tell that he’d done it before. Some girl had found a bag of frozen peas in the staffroom freezer, that he then strapped over it to ease the pain. By the look on your face, it did absolutely nothing. 

“I’ll drive you to A&E,” Lando offered without thinking twice. He could see Max some other time. 

Then it was the trouble of getting you down the stage and out of the building. Eddie throwing you over his shoulder could’ve maybe worked, but you had this thing called dignity. 

So, with one arm around Lando and the other one around Eddie, you hopped your way out of there on one foot, cursing Mother Earth herself every time you accidentally touched the ground with the injured one. 

“You’re supposed to go to a UTC with broken bones,” you pointed out when you remembered it, feeling the need to correct Lando.  

“You’ve broken a bone before?” Lando asked. 

Eddie didn’t have to ask because he already knew about your history with hospitals. 

“Twice. My wrist once from falling off a trampoline, and a finger from shutting a car door on it,” you explained. 

“You’re a walking emergency, aren’t you?” Lando said, like he was joking. 

It wasn’t really a joke to you anymore, though. 

“You don’t know the half of it,” you mumbled, thinking he wouldn’t hear you. 

But he did, and it got him thinking. 

You couldn’t help but laugh as you got out to the parking lot. In your periphery, you could see how Eddie’s jaw dropped. A bright orange McLaren was not what you had expected to see, but then again, you couldn’t have said what you expected instead. The man was a Formula 1 driver, for Christ's sake. 

Eddie kept his mouth shut, but the look he gave you said something along the lines of you have a lot to explain, young lady. You would have no idea how to explain how you ended up here, even if you wanted to tell him. 

“Lando…” you said to get his attention. “I don’t think I can get in this car without it hurting like hell.” 

“I borrowed it for the weekend. I didn’t think—” he stopped himself, unsure of how to continue. 

I didn’t think you would break a bone and I’d have to drive you? 

Yeah, no. He couldn’t say that. 

“I was about to tell you to just shove me in the backseat, but it doesn’t even have one,” you tried to joke, earning small smiles from both Lando and Eddie. 

Just as getting out of the building, slow and steady won the race. Only this time, you weren’t only cursing Mother Earth but Lando and Eddie too, blaming them for whenever your foot nudged something. You hoped they could take it lightheartedly because you weren’t angry or mad at them. You were angry at yourself. 

“You, young man — take care of our best performer, okay?” Eddie said to Lando as he shut the door on your side. 

You scoffed at his wording. He knew he didn’t need to take on the role as a protective older brother-like figure in your life, but you kind of liked it when he did. Lando probably met a lot of important and intimidating people with his choice of career, yet Eddie felt different. He had no actual influence, but he had a heart that cared for you. Lando couldn’t joke that away. 

“I will, sir.” 

The UTC was relatively calm for a Friday evening, so you didn’t have to wait long until you were rushed into a room to be assessed and treated. Nurse after nurse who saw your ankle said the same thing, get x-rays, evaluate, and hope it’s not surgical. 

Lando didn’t say much, only helping you explain what had happened when your pain made you unable to form coherent sentences. He stayed by your side, though. You had half-expected him to leave as soon as you got there, making up some excuse about being busy. 

But he never did. 

You even had to convince him to leave to get your bag that you had left in his car. He was unsure about leaving you alone the first couple of times you mentioned it. 

But you wanted to get your makeup off, and fix your hair which had been left a mess after you’d taken the wig off. You’d thought about that part, but the maid’s costume was still on your body. At least the nurses got a good laugh out of it — a barefoot, glittery maid with makeup smeared all over her face and a packet of peas strapped to her ankle. 

When you were rolled off to get x-rays taken, Lando finally agreed to go outside and get it. It wasn’t like he was allowed to go with you anyway. 

“Thank you,” you said as he handed you the bag. “The x-rays will take a while, but the doctor said it is most likely a simple fracture and I will only need a cast.” 

You immediately took out a makeup wipe and a comb. The braids you had on under the wig were starting to feel very stiff, giving you a headache. Or maybe you were just tense because of all the other pain you were feeling. 

“That’s good.” He nodded, taking a seat on the edge of the hospital bed. “Did they give you anything for the pain?” 

You giggled a little, rolling your eyes, overplaying how loopy you were. “Can you already tell?” 

“Just a little.” He pinched his fingers, showing just how little. “Do you want help with that?” 

“You don’t have to—” you tried to tell him, but his hands had already undone one of the hair ties, his fingers moving gently to separate the braided hair. 

He scooted behind you to reach better as you continued to take off the makeup, the wipe quickly turning a messy mixture of red and black with how much product was actually on your face. Stage makeup was no joke. His fingers through your hair sent shivers down your spine, but you tried not to think too much about it. He was just being nice. That’s all he’d been the entire evening. 

“You probably have better things to do on a Friday night,” you mumbled. 

Lando shook his head, and then he figured you couldn’t see it as he sat behind you. 

“I called Oscar when I went out. He said he would tell your parents.” 

“Parent. My mother’s not alive,” you whispered. “But that’s good, I guess. Did Oscar say anything else?” 

You didn’t give Lando any time to think or ask about what you had said. That was on purpose. He wouldn’t have known what to say anyway, with every possible sentence coming to mind feeling insensitive or way too pitiful. 

“No, not really,” Lando replied. 

That Oscar had made fun of him, for getting to play a knight in shining armour as you were a damsel in distress, was something he opted out of telling you. 

“He didn’t say that this was typical of me?” you muttered, rubbing your face in obvious distress. 

Lando was done undoing the braids so he could move to see your face again, seeing it streaky and glittery from you having wiped off the makeup without a mirror at hand. He reached for a clean wipe, his eyes silently asking you if it was okay if he helped. 

“I just… I can’t fucking believe it.” You exhaled from your nose as he wiped your undereyes clean from glitter.  

“It’s always like this,” you continued, showing frustration. “Whenever I’m about to accomplish something in life, I always get injured.”

“I don’t believe that—” 

You cut him off by explaining, “Well, I fucked up my lungs right as I was about to graduate.” 

“You didn’t fuck them up. Things like that just happen,” Lando interjected. 

“I lost my voice on the second show the last time I did a musical. Had to give up a leading role for one that was just dancing, no singing,” you counter-argued, proving that it wasn’t just some one-time thing. 

Lando looked at you, waiting to see if you could come up with more examples before he told you that it wasn’t fate that got you injured. They were coincidences. 

“My wrist was broken when I took my A-level exams, that was hell on earth,” you said, raising a finger of conviction. “Oh, and I had appendicitis on my 18th birthday. Jasmine still hates me for that one because I ruined a girl’s trip.” 

“Is there more?” he questioned, raising his eyebrows. 

You snorted out a laugh as another one came to mind. “I got a nosebleed when I lost my virginity. It didn’t stop bleeding for like three hours.” 

Lando pursed his lips to not laugh, but he couldn’t keep it in for long. “I’m sorry for laughing, but the picture in my head is really funny.” 

In hindsight, it was quite funny. At the time, however, it was the most embarrassing moment of your life. 

“I was going to say that probably everyone experiences these sort of setbacks, but… I don’t know anymore,” he tried to comfort. 

“I think I might just be cursed, Lando,” you huffed, locking eyes with him again.  

You both went quiet for a couple seconds as he took in your expression. A gaze so hollow, it didn’t matter that you were trying to hide it with a smile. The smile was blacked out anyway. 

He didn’t understand how you could talk to him and reassure him without making it sound like you were second-guessing things, or ever feeling unsure of what your words meant — but as soon as the subject was switched to regard yourself, you were suddenly cold. Or not really cold at all, but just not as warm as you were when you talked about other people. 

Your staring contest was interrupted by a young boy saying your name. A man came shortly after him into the small hospital room. Lando assumed it was your father and little brother, as he stood up from the bed to introduce himself. And to make some space between the two of you, since you were sitting suspiciously close together.  

The boy got shy as soon as he saw Lando. He looked a lot like you, with the same coloured hair and the same big doe eyes, only he was clad in a green football kit. Your father was wearing a matching one to show support. 

“Hi Matteo,” you called out as your brother walked past Lando to immediately get to you. He was like that — shy with people he didn’t know and anxious to talk to them. So you saved him, by talking to him as you saw Lando shake your father’s hand. That wasn’t awkward at all. 

“How did the game go?” you asked, ruffling his sweaty hair as you invited him to sit next to you on the bed. 

Matteo started talking, all excited about how they’d won and that he had gotten an assist. Pretty solid for a first game, he thought. You were mostly glad that he had a good time and that he seemed to get along well with the other boys on the team. He didn’t have it easy making friends because of his shyness. 

Lando overheard the conversation, taking notice of how you had asked him how it went and not if he had won. It was those little things that made you different, made the way you talked to people so much more worth it. You were so fucking lovely, and you seemed to have no idea about it.

Your father had recognised him, but Lando couldn’t tell if that was only because of Oscar or if he cared about racing. 

With your family there, Lando started to feel excessive. He couldn’t exactly argue his case for wanting to stay right there in front of you, and your father. He guessed it wasn’t too late to still catch up with Max, but a part of him almost didn’t want to do it. 

No, he had to leave. He couldn’t explain his reason out loud. 

As he said his goodbye, he met your eyes from his position in the doorway. He didn’t have much to say to you, or maybe he had so much to say that his brain couldn’t find what was most important. His shoes almost felt sticky against the sterile hospital flooring, something glueing him to the spot. 

“Will I see you at Silverstone?” Lando decided to ask before leaving. 

“Uh… maybe? I’ll have to talk to Oscar,” you said unsure, still sat in the bed with your arm around Matteo.  

“Can I come this time?” he whispered, looking up at you. 

You were shocked by his question. He’d never asked to come before. But it wasn’t really up to you if he could or not. It was always someone else getting you race passes, so you were in no position to be greedy. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll sort you out,” Lando hurried to say, seeing the uncertainty on your face.  

You let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you… for everything.” 

For showing up, for driving you, for staying. He’d done so much that he didn’t need to do. Maybe Jasmine was correct. Maybe he didn’t just see you as her friend that he had to be civil to. Or maybe, he’d been dealt really bad cards tonight and had no option but to comply. Otherwise, he would be seen as a complete dickhead. 

Lando nodded, pursing his lips into a smile, staying in the doorway for a moment too long, before finally walking away. You didn’t notice him doing it, but someone else certainly did. 

“Bunny…” your father said. 

“Mm?” you mumbled, perking up your ears.  

“Did that boy just linger in the doorway?” 

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Silverstone, UK

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

“Are you avoiding me?” 

Lando’s voice shocked you as he came up from behind. You’d seen him around during the day but kept your distance. You were technically his guest today, only ever having been invited by Oscar before. But you would be lying if you said that premise had made you more liberal with how you interacted with Lando. You stayed with Oscar and Jasmine, and your father and Matteo, because that was what you knew. 

The paddock at Silverstone was a lot, even for you who had been to this rodeo before. Matteo and your dad, however, would fall asleep quickly tonight with how many new impressions they’d received today. You’d only managed to come on the Sunday, with you on crutches and Matteo being, well… Matteo. It was good enough of an experience anyway. 

“No, there’s just a lot of people here to see you. I didn’t want to be a bother,” you explained, nervously laughing.  

It was jam-packed with friends and family, sponsors, and celebrities. Every time he had a moment for himself, it could quickly turn into a meet-and-greet if he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. 

Now, minutes before he had to make his way to the starting grid, it was finally sort of calm in the garage. You were standing in the viewing section, a papaya-coloured headset around your neck. 

Lando shook his head and sighed. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

You could not be a bother, even if you tried. 

“So, it wasn’t a make-a-wish thing after you saw me fall on my face and break my ankle?” 

“Would I’ve been your wish?” he asked, voice affected by laughter.

“No, sorry, I’d pick a broadway show over this any day,” you responded jokingly. 

“How’s your ankle anyway?” 

The cast and the crutches you were leaning on didn’t look too dramatic. It just looked like you had broken your ankle and were now dealing with it to the best of your ability. 

“It’s healing just fine,” you nodded, leaning to rest on one crutch to show Lando your palm. “The worst thing right now is the heat and the crutches giving me callouses.” 

As you reached out your hand, Lando couldn’t help but gently grab your fingers to take a closer look. He was practically holding your hand. Sure, you held his when Eddie was wrapping your foot, but you were in an immense amount of pain at the time. This was something different. The callouses weren’t even that bad. 

Why was he holding your hand? 

In the same moment you could overthink it, he let go.

“Have you been hopping around the paddock all day? You should’ve told me, I could’ve gotten you a golf cart or something,” Lando wondered, feeling kind of bad. 

He hadn’t thought about your broken ankle when he’d asked you to come. 

“It’s alright. Matteo’s been having a blast all day, so… thank you,” you shrugged. 

You could deal with being uncomfortable for a day if it meant that Matteo got a once-in-a-lifetime experience. 

His McLaren cap was signed, and he had ice cream in his belly. He’d even gotten a wave from Sir Lewis Hamilton himself, and if that wasn’t enough to make him school ground royalty for at least a week, you didn’t know what was. Maybe you took your big sister duty too seriously, but literally nothing could make you stop caring for that kid.  

“And your dad?” Lando asked. 

You looked over your shoulder to see what he was doing. With Matteo in front of him, practically hiding into his side, you could see him talking to someone and smiling. You understood that he was mostly doing this for you and Matteo, but there was some underlying fascination that middle-aged men had with fast cars that you knew he was trying to hide. 

“He appears to be smiling, that’s always positive.” 

“He’s talking to my dad,” he revealed. That wasn’t awkward at all. 

Lando hesitated, unsure of asking you what was on his mind, but soon enough, words were falling out of his mouth anyway. You seemed to have that effect on him. 

“I need to get ready, but can I see you afterwards? Maybe you can come back like you did in Melbourne.” 

You smiled, agreeing before adding, “I’ll watch you get on the podium first.” 

The race started with both Lando and Oscar in good positions, which probably led to a false sense of security. Your gut feeling was unsure of it all. 

Matteo held on to your hand during the entire start, you could tell that it was mixed emotions of excitement and anxiety. His headset was big on his little head, and he looked positively adorable as he tried to understand what was going on. 

“Lando is third right now,” you explained to him, pointing to a monitor. “And Oscar is fifth, you remember them, right?” 

Matteo nodded. “Lando broke your foot, and Oscar talks funny.” 

“I broke my own foot, but you’re right about Oscar,” you laughed. 

It was you that had to hold onto Matteo for a moment during the race when it really looked like both Oscar and Lando had a chance at winning. But after some godawful strategic calls, you realised that the podium wasn’t as secure as you thought. Hamilton was steady in the lead, and Verstappen was chasing Lando like there was no tomorrow.

You were so focused on the leaders that you didn’t even realise what was happening at the bottom of the grid. Pictures of two cars making contact flashed over the screens, and Matteo tensed up beside you. 

“What happened?” he worriedly asked, clinging to your arm. “Did they get hurt?” 

“No, no, it was just a little love tap,” you reassured him. They probably didn’t even have any damage — that was how minimal it was. “Like when I reversed into grandma’s postbox.”

“That was you?” your dad laughed. 

“Be quiet, I’m trying to watch the race,” you hushed him, eyes back on the leaderboard. 

Verstappen ended up catching Lando. P3 was the bittersweet consolation prize that Lando would have to act like he was happy about. Parade around the podium, covered in champagne, as if he wasn’t completely gutted inside. You could see on his face that he was acting happy as they celebrated. He wasn’t that good of an actor, if you were to be honest. 

If only they had put on different tyres for his last stint. 

Afterwards, you made your way back to his driver’s room — just as he’d asked. You could have overthought that question a million times, but you decided to just go for it. It was crowded with people, both staff and guests, rushing to congratulate him. Or maybe to comfort him. Your guess would be on the latter. 

At last, the hallway cleared, and you hopped to stand in the doorway, finally seeing him.

“P3, baby!” you joked cheerfully. 

Lando stared at you blankly, shaking his head as he snorted out a laugh. 

“Yeah, no, that was frustrating to watch. I can’t even imagine how you feel.” 

He had no words. Already having had to put on such a fake façade to everyone else he had met after the race. He didn’t want to do that to you. So, he ended up speechless.

“Should I leave you alone?” you whispered, breaking the silence. 

“No!” he hurried to say. “Uhm… please, sit.” 

With some struggle, you managed to sit next to him on the bench in his room. Much like Melbourne. It was, however, a lot more difficult to move in the little room while on crutches. 

He sighed as you sat down, helping you rest the crutches against the wall so they wouldn’t fall to the floor. His racing suit was halfway off and filled the room with a scent of champagne. You tried to look him in the eye, but ended up focusing on how his helmet had left red imprints on his cheeks — like a gorgeous mark of endurance. 

“I just… I don’t know what to say, or what to feel. It’s always so fucking close, and then I lose it.” Lando’s voice was stern and measured, his face blank. 

It was a forced expression, though. He could cry if his tear ducks would’ve allowed him to. Some mental barrier stopped him from doing it. He almost wanted to do it so that you would see his true emotions. 

Your heart broke a little, seeing him be so harsh on himself. Because, with your mentality, he had just done something miraculous. He’d done something mere mortals couldn’t accomplish. 

“I’m impressed you get out of that car alive every weekend, so I might be the wrong person to complain to,” you softly told him. 

Lando had heard those sorts of words before, how he was superhuman for even getting in the car. He’d felt the same way when he started, and maybe he’d lost that initial spark he used to have. 

Your words didn’t mean that you didn’t want him to complain. He should vent, to the people that it mattered to. Get it out of his system, so that he could be sensible in front of the media. 

It was funny how the sport worked that way. That he was somehow less happy in third, than Sargeant was in eleventh. That the people on the second and third steps of the podium were the biggest losers. And, they were expected to be robotic about it, otherwise, they would be deemed erratic and emotional. 

What was the crime in being emotional anyway? 

“I think you drove a perfect race,” you complimented him. “And then I think there were some strategic… mishaps that you’re not to blame for. Overall, this race was like the coolest one I’ve ever witnessed, and Oscar didn’t even get a podium. He’s my favourite driver!” 

You tried so hard to get him to laugh again, but he wouldn’t budge. He had to tell himself not to. It actually kind of annoyed him that Oscar was your favourite. He knew he didn’t know you well enough to be your favourite, yet. 

“I don’t get how you’re not proud of yourself,” you finally sighed, gesticulating with your hands as you spoke. “You have every right to be proud, annoyingly so.” 

Lando knew he had to let his guard down. That was the only way he would feel better about this. This wasn’t like Australia, when it hadn’t been his fault for the bad result. He’d still blamed himself, but let it go after a couple of hours. This time, a good result was somehow his fault. It was insane, the mental game he was playing with himself. And he couldn’t let this go without talking it through. 

“I’ll be that later, I just need to feel sorry for myself for a couple of hours first,” he scoffed.  

It was Silverstone, after all. He’d gotten a podium on home soil. That was an accomplishment to be proud of. Last year, he was over the moon over his Silverstone race, but maybe that was because the car hadn’t been that great. This time he had a great car, but was somehow a worse driver. It didn’t make any sense to him. 

His spiralling thoughts were stopped when he heard his phone continuously vibrate from the other side of the room, somewhere hidden under a pile of clothes. 

“Are people blowing up your phone with congratulations?” you asked amusingly. 

“No, it’s the PR team,” he said as he looked over his notifications, a confused look on his face. “We’ve gone viral again. It looks like I held your hand when you showed me the callouses from the crutches.” 

You did technically hold my hand, was what you wanted to say. You decided that staying quiet felt better. 

Lando regretted his wording as soon as he said it. He held your hand in a garage filled with cameras. He knew that. He was to blame for that. But was any harm done? 

“I don’t get how it’s always with you that it happens,” he mumbled nervously. 

He sat back down beside you, giving you a view of his phone screen. The photos were cute, if you were to be honest. But also blurry and obviously taken by someone who wanted to be sneaky. 

“Always? Meaning once before?” you questioned. 

That showed how little you were on social media. You didn’t know about anything other than the video from Melbourne. 

“No, there were also photos of me at the hospital when you broke your ankle,” Lando explained. 

The photos had been everywhere. He, and that orange car, at a hospital parking lot on a Friday evening. It was quite the headline for news outlets and gossip accounts. 

“Oh…” you said, visibly surprised. “I’m so sorry if it caused you problems to be seen with a girl in a slutty maid costume.”

For a second there, Lando could watch you go through the five stages of grief, all through your facial expressions. 

“You weren’t in the photos. It was just me and that… obnoxious car when I went back to get your bag,” he quickly added, calming your nerves. 

You nodded understandingly, feeling yourself get less tense. “Did you have to explain it to anyone?” 

“Thankfully not, I’m such a bad liar.” 

What would he need to lie about? 

Then you realised that someone like him probably couldn't just say that they drove a friend who had injured themselves. That would only lead to a million more questions. And, if he had said something — people would’ve been able to put two and two together as you showed up to the paddock with a cast and crutches. Maybe he was protecting you. 

You didn’t know what else to say to him now, meeting his bright eyes once again. They had this way of shining, even though he was sad. It was not an uncomfortable silence, but you were starting to wonder if you’d overstayed your welcome. 

Then Lando spoke again, his voice in a happier tone. “Has Jasmine mentioned Italy to you?” 

“Monza?”

“No, now before Hungary,” he replied. “Oscar and I have to represent McLaren at some charity auction, and I thought about inviting you as my plus one so that Jasmine doesn’t have to be alone if we have to work a lot.” 

The invitation was carefully phrased, and you recognised that. If you had been more sure about Jasmine’s ridiculous idea that Lando liked you, you would’ve made fun of him for dragging in Jasmine in his way of asking you to come with him. 

“Oh,” you mused. “I’d be a fool to say no, but there has to be other people that you’d rather go with.” 

Lando looked at you in confusion. 

“Like, don’t invite me just to do Jasmine a favour,” you continued.  

He finally broke into a smile, not being able to contain it anymore. You were clueless, and Lando found that hilarious. “It’s not like I hate your company, y’know?”

You chuckled. You hadn’t expected him to say something so direct. 

“Can I talk to Jazz about it first, before I decide?” 

Lando nodded softly. “Sure, I mean, the invite is yours anyway. If you don’t want to come, I’ll just go alone.”

You turned quiet again, looking him in the eyes as you took in what he’d said. The invitation was yours. He hadn’t ever thought of bringing someone else. Maybe he truly was doing Jasmine a favour. Maybe this was him sneakily making a move. He’d have to be a lot more upfront for you to catch on, though. 

A tension settled over the room, an eternity passing without anyone saying anything. The mood switched, and you both could tell. It was probably time for you to leave, yet the expectation to say that last little thing was there. The little thing that would leave him feeling better about himself. You wanted to linger in the doorway, or linger on the bench, you guessed. You wanted to say so much more. 

Oscar intruded by softly knocking on the already open door. 

“Oscar, hi!” you squeaked out of surprise, straightening your back to make space between you and Lando. 

“Your dad’s looking for you,” he explained, chuckling. 

“I guess I better go,” you said, standing up, finding balance with the help of your crutches. “You both should be proud of yourselves today, or every day for that matter.” 

Lando looked down at the floor as you left. He knew that whatever face Oscar put on or whatever sentence he formed, it would accuse Lando of being down bad for you. 

“Did you invite her to Italy?” 

“Yeah, she said she’ll talk to Jazz about it,” Lando mumbled, hiding his smile. 

You hadn’t immediately said yes, but that was almost his plan by dragging Jasmine into it. She wasn’t even supposed to come with them to Italy at first. But Lando wanted the four of them to do it together. It was a foolproof plan to get to spend some more time with you that wasn’t in a paddock nor in a hospital. 

“On another note,” Oscar said while he remembered it. “How the hell did you get her dad to come to a race?” 

“I don’t know… I just sent Bunny three passes?”  

“I’ve invited him to races since I was in F3 and he’s never once shown up,” Oscar began explaining. 

Lando scrunched his nose, unsure of where Oscar was going with his reasoning.  

“He’s a good man, funny even — but he does not like racing, at all,” he continued. 

Was Lando being stupid for not getting Oscar’s point? Lando couldn’t tell if he was being stupid. He probably was. 

Then, it finally clicked for Oscar. “You don’t know how her mum died, do you?” 

Lando could do nothing but slowly shake his head, his mouth slightly open out of confusion. He could tell that Oscar hesitated to tell him. Maybe he shouldn’t be telling your story, but he trusted Lando. 

“Alone, in a car crash. She died on impact. Bunny was 15 or so when it happened,” Oscar said gently, his face showing pity with a downturned smile. “Her dad has always told her not to come to races, in case someone crashes and it brings up bad memories for her.” 

Now, Lando was definitely being stupid, because it still didn’t click for him. It made him understand your mentality more — that you’d said you were impressed he got out of that car alive every weekend. Because you had, close up, lived through someone not making it out of a car — a car going nowhere near as fast. But what did that have to do with your father attending a race? 

“I think Bunny must’ve convinced him to come see you, specifically,” Oscar finally said. 

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Lombardia, Italia

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

“I don’t even know what I’m doing here,” you sighed, looking from the balcony out to the beautiful garden. 

Fruit trees, pink oleander, and pungent lavender. Beautiful limestone houses. It looked picturesque, like something out of a movie. Yet, you were unsure if you belonged there. 

“You’re spending the weekend in an Italian villa. That is what you’re doing,” Jasmine insisted, wrapping her arm around your shoulder. 

The house was gorgeous. The area was gorgeous. Everything was just perfect. And you felt undeserving of it. You’d gotten to take off your cast just in time for the trip. This was your moment to be selfish this summer. 

So, why the hell did you keep on questioning yourself?

“You’d have no stories to tell from this summer if it wasn’t for this trip. You need things to talk about when you go back to university, otherwise, you’ll make no new friends,” she then pointed out.

You hadn’t even thought of that. All your other friends had graduated. You still had six months of classes left because of your stupid lungs. You didn’t want to make new friends. You wanted to keep your old ones. 

You crossed your arms, looking up at your best friend with a pout. “I’ll let you know that me and Jane Austen have had a riveting summer thus far in my dad’s hammock.”

Doing just about anything with a broken ankle was impossible, so reading in the garden it was. 

“While you travel the world and go to races, I will always entertain you with hilarious Goodreads reviews,” you added. 

Jasmine shook her head disapprovingly. “I really don’t need to know even more nasty things that you would do to Mr. Darcy.”

Deep down, you knew she got a giggle out of getting a notification on her phone with a five star review only saying Mr. Darcy could raw me and nothing more. 

“Isn’t this going to be awkward though? It’s like we’re double dating all weekend!” 

“Would that be so bad?” Jasmine laughed, thinking that it was probably Lando’s plan all along. 

You realised quite quickly that Lando hadn’t lied about them having to work. During the day, they were off to the manor house that was hosting the auction, doing lord knows what. It was something about cars being auctioned off and sucking up to millionaires. 

You didn’t understand why this type of event even existed. It felt like the 2011 classic Monte Carlo with Selena Gomez. That was at least your only experience with auctions for rich people. 

While this one was for charity, it still only felt like a way for these millionaires to seem humble. They would’ve bought the cars anyway, it was only for their own conscience that the charities even mattered. Maybe you were being harsh. 

You and Jasmine at least got to spend some quality time with each other in the villa. You ate a long breakfast, cycled down to the city centre to try odd flavours of gelato, and went into cute little boutiques to find her a pair of heels to wear with her gown for the auction. 

Your dress was black, and so were your heels. That was how fun you were going to be. 

Truth be told, it was a prom dress that you hadn’t gotten to wear because of covid, so maybe you were a little excited to get all dolled up tomorrow night. 

When the boys got home for the day, they decided you all should take the bikes to a nearby lake. You didn’t have much of a say, packing a basket with antipasti for dinner. It was unbearably hot even though the sun had started to settle, so maybe going for a swim wasn’t the worst thing. 

As the four of you swooshed down Italian country roads on rusty borrowed bikes, Lando and you ended up in front of Jasmine and Oscar, going much faster than they did. Everything wasn’t a race, but some things definitely were. 

Oscar cycled closer to his girlfriend, asking her a question he’d been dying to ask all day. “Do we tell them something about how they are both madly infatuated with each other or will they figure it out on their own?” 

“I tried to tell Bunny, but she wouldn’t believe me. It’s like she doesn’t understand that people still find her attractive after she got sick,” Jasmine said. 

She didn’t know if she should sigh or laugh at your behaviour recently. She understood that your life had changed completely, but falling in love, or even just dating, shouldn’t be something to be scared about. Not when you had a boy acting like a fool right in front of your eyes. 

“So, we let Lando try and awkwardly flirt with her by himself? And watch Bunny be clueless about it?” Oscar laughed

“He has to be upfront at some point, right?” she responded. 

They probably wouldn’t have to wait long until Lando would scream in your face that he liked you. He had no filter left when it came to you. 

The lake was small, surrounded by a pebble beach. The water looked almost artificially teal, like natural sources of water tended to do. You’d never been to Italy before, but it was quickly becoming one of your favourite destinations. It was idyllic in ways you couldn’t have dreamt of. 

You threw the bikes in the grass and put out your beach towels close to the water. Feeling the pebbles under your bare feet and the sweet smell of sunscreen, you and Jasmine started to pack up your picnic basket.

There were almost no other people there, only seeing a family with children taking an evening swim on the other side of the lake. 

After eating a little, the boys tested the water, groaning about how cold it was, yet somehow getting in anyway. You still didn’t know what they had done during the day, but with their lifestyles, you guessed they always needed to find ways to relax. 

Jasmine rested on her towel with her nose in a book, recognising it as one you had rated highly on Goodreads. See, you knew she loved your reviews. She mumbled something about how the protagonist reminded her of you when you asked her if she was enjoying it. You took that as a good sign. 

You went down to the waterside, only dipping your toes in before deciding that it was way too cold for you to want to swim in it. Instead, you crouched down to look at the rocks, all round and polished from the water, in pretty green and coral shades. You’d already gotten Matteo a local football shirt as a souvenir, but you could definitely fit some cool rocks in your suitcase as well. 

Lando, zoning out from whatever Oscar was talking about next to him in the still water, tried to secretly keep his eye on you. He could catch a glimpse of a bright red bikini underneath the long, sheer white shirt you had on. His fondness had grown so large that even watching you pick pebbles warmed his heart. Or maybe that was the bikini’s doing. 

Jasmine could watch it all happen through the darkness of her sunglasses, having lost focus from her book. She furrowed her brows with concern. “Bunny, aren’t you warm?” 

Your hand subconsciously traced the edge of the your shirt collar, a faint smile forming on your lips. “Yeah, but I’ll scare the children away if I show the scar on my chest,” you replied, your tone light yet tinged with an undercurrent of insecurity. 

“It’s not that bad,” she said, promising, her eyes meeting yours as she tipped down her shades. 

You laughed a little in disbelief. “You haven’t seen it since they reopened it.” You were talking so loud that the boys in the water definitely could hear you. “I also hate touching it, so I don’t want to put sunscreen on.” 

Jasmine remembered the first time she saw your scar, a jagged reminder of the surgery that had saved your life. A long red line, right on your sternum, that had faded over time. But she hadn’t seen the new scar, the one left by the recent, unexpected procedure. 

“Don’t be such a wimp,” Jasmine urged, getting up from the towel, a bottle of sunscreen in her hand. “Get your shirt off and I’ll do it.” 

She knew you well enough to push you to do it. You would never get over this mental hurdle without people telling you that you looked fine. People had scars. That was the way life worked. 

You sighed, slowly fumbling with the shirt buttons as you tried to decipher Jasmine’s reaction. “See? It’s awful.” 

She shook her head, trying to keep a neutral face. It was worse than she thought, but she could never tell you that, because it hurt more than it helped. And it wasn’t like the scar tainted your entire being. You were still a gorgeous woman, in Baywatch-esque red bikini. That was an unstoppable combo.  

“It’s really not bad. It needs some more time to fade, that’s all,” Jasmine reassured you, having no problem with touching the uneven skin to apply sunscreen. 

You didn’t want to look at her hand as she did it, so you looked out over the lake, catching Lando’s surprisingly… odd gaze as he stood in the water next to Oscar. 

You hadn’t wanted to stare too much at him earlier, knowing that your head would get messed up if you saw him shirtless in swim shorts. But now, you couldn’t disregard the look on his face. 

“Lando, I saw that look. Just tell me that it’s bad,” you said, clearly still frustrated over the entire thing. 

Lando was shocked you were talking to him, struggling to find the words. 

“He’s staring at your tits, it’s totally different,” Oscar suddenly said, having kept quiet for too long. 

You almost didn’t know if you had heard him correctly, but Jasmine’s ringing laughter told you that it was true. Lando sternly said Oscar’s name before drenching him in water, a playful fight breaking out between the two of them, overshadowing what had just happened. 

That didn’t mean it left your mind, though. 

It was dark by the time you got back to the villa, stars hanging above you in the night sky. You knew it was the same sky as you had home in England, yet there was something much more magical about it this time. 

Jasmine and Oscar went to bed, but you had a few things to prepare for the auction. You wanted to paint your nails and do a face mask; maybe even get in an everything-shower to save time tomorrow. 

The night was still warm as you made your way out to the balcony in your nightgown, deciding that you might as well take advantage of the view while you painted your nails. The balcony felt like a secluded little sanctuary, bathed in a soft glow from the outdoor lighting and wafting in the breeze of the Italian countryside.  

Behind you, the glass door slid open with a soft creak, and you turned to see Lando stepping out onto the balcony, carrying what looked like a cup of tea. You’d thought he was asleep, the villa eerily quiet. 

He had an easy confidence about him — something you admired. Clad in a soft cotton t-shirt and sweatpants, the kind that looked threadbare and like the most comfortable fabric ever. His eyes silently asked you if it was okay for him to join you, and you nodded. He sat down across from you at the outdoor dining table. 

“Orange?” Lando asked softly, seeing the colour of the nail polish. 

“I thought it was papaya,” you joked, biting your tongue to not get it on your cuticles as you continued to paint. “I bought it for Silverstone but forgot to wear it.” 

Lando didn’t care. At least he told himself that he didn’t. You were just representing his team by carefully painting your nails orange. There was no need to get all mushy inside because of it. It wasn’t like it was permanent. Only a week or so of you thinking of him every time you saw your own hands. Maybe that was wishful thinking. Maybe you didn’t think of him. 

“I should’ve told you earlier, but you look great today,” he said like it was nothing, raising his cup to take a sip. 

He could tell that you were slightly baffled, a line forming between your eyebrows as you scrunched your nose in disbelief. “Scar and all?” 

“Yeah, of course.” 

Oscar had maybe been right about what Lando was looking at when you had asked him about the scar. They had overheard the entire conversation you had with Jasmine, so when he caught a glimpse of the scar, he had imagined something much worse. It truly wasn’t that bad. It at least didn’t steal his attention when you were standing in front of him in a bikini. 

For a moment, neither spoke, the silence filled only by the sounds of the night. Cicadas, a distant car, and birds chirping. Lights from neighbouring houses twinkled like scattered diamonds. 

“I don’t know if you wanted me to know, but Oscar told me about your mother,” Lando’s voice trembled, confessing it to you. His eyes searched your face for a reaction, a mixture of concern and vulnerability painted across his features.

You stared down at your painted nails, adding one last stroke before closing the bottle of polish. You were scared to look at him, unsure of how this conversation would play out. 

“It’s not really a secret, just a hard thing to tell people,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

You somehow felt the warmth from Lando’s body even though there was a table’s length between you. His presence wasn’t uncomfortable to you, but the conversation certainly was. 

“Don’t pity me like I’m some motherless child. It’s really not that bad,” you continued, trying to keep your composure, the familiar ache in your chest making it hard to breathe. 

In moments like these, it was like you could feel your scar glowing, how the tight skin wanted to rip right open to help you take full breaths. 

A flicker of frustration crossed Lando’s face. 

He hated how you had said it — how you tried to downplay everything that had happened in your life. He understood that it was your way of coping, but your entire being basically screamed for the emotions to be let out. You were hypocritical, and he was tired. 

“It’s allowed to be bad. You were the one that told me that in Australia. You’re allowed to feel bad about things that are shit,” he insisted, his voice carrying a firmness that contrasted with the tenderness in his eyes.

His raw honesty sliced through your defenses. Your view of him blurred as tears filled your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Clearing your throat, you calmed yourself down. 

Lando wasn’t actually frustrated with you. It was more at the circumstances. He didn’t want to push you, and you didn’t want to upset him. It was just a very difficult conversation to have. 

“Do you ever have nightmares about crashing?” you asked, whispering. 

“No, not really,” he admitted.

If he was thinking about what might go wrong all the time, he wouldn't be able to continue driving. Racing showed some people horrible fates of life. The abundant success that could be archived was harvested by others.

It was all about finding a balance, about showing respect for the thing they put themselves through, but also overcoming it by showing no fear. 

Maybe it was different for you, Lando thought. Maybe you had already given in to the fear, because you’d get no success out of it no matter how hard you tried. You couldn’t get your mum back anyway.  

You took a deep breath before confessing. “I do. All the time.” 

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

The early morning sun filtered through his bedroom windows as Lando got out of bed. He’d slept like a king. The countryside was so quiet compared to Monaco and the cities he raced in. He stretched as he drew back the curtains, getting a view of the garden, and you. 

The conversation you had yesterday had left the both of you unsatisfied. Yet, neither wanted to push the other to really get to the bottom of the problem, 

This morning, however, you were waltzing through the garden on bare feet, a big bowl in one hand and a small ladder in the other one. The summer dress you were wearing blew with the breeze. You looked free. And slightly out of your mind, climbing a ladder to reach the fruit trees, without anyone keeping an eye on you.

Not that you needed supervision, but climbing a ladder could be dangerous. That was what Lando told himself as he rushed outside. 

“Oh god, please don’t fall down,” he said, voice laced with concern as he almost ran through the garden to get to you, keeping his steady hands on the ladder. 

You glanced down at him, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “It’s a stepladder, Lando. I’m one metre above the ground,” you reassured him.  

“Still, you should be careful,” he insisted.  

“I’ll break your nose if you look up my dress,” you warned. You weren’t serious, but Lando felt his cheeks flush anyway. “Do you want one?” you asked, referring to the fruit you were picking. 

“What is it even?”  

“I thought peaches at first, but they’re not hairy. Not small enough to be apricots but maybe hard enough to be nectarines, so that would be my guess.” 

You examined the fruit as you stepped down from the ladder, tossing one in the air before catching it again and placing it in the bowl. 

“Are you sure you’re still talking about fruit?”  

“Oh, shut up,” you laughed, rolling your eyes at the innuendo. 

You picked up a nectarine and took a bite, the sweet juice dribbling down your chin. “I made breakfast, but I assume you’re on the same diet as Oscar?” you asked, voice muffled by the mouthful of fruit.

Lando stared at you in awe, taking way too long before nodding. 

“Well then, I guess you can watch me eat while you stick to oatmeal,” you replied playfully. 

As the sun rose above the horizon, casting a warm amber glow over the cosy balcony, you and Lando sat by the outdoor furniture, eating your breakfast. The air filled with a scent of fresh coffee and the sweet nectarines. You ate them with yoghurt and honey, and Lando was totally jealous. 

You didn’t say much to each other. It wasn’t really necessary. The world around you started to wake up, but on that little balcony, it felt like time had slowed down just for you two. 

Lando turned to you, curiosity in his eyes. “Why do people call you Bunny?” He’d wanted to ask you that for quite some time.  

“It’s quite a sad story, to be honest,” you began, swallowing what was left of your breakfast. 

He almost regretted his question immediately. He hadn’t even thought about how a cute nickname like yours could be from a sad memory. You watched as Lando’s expression softened, his eyes encouraging you to continue. 

“Matteo stayed a lot at our grandparent’s house after mum died, because… well, life happened,” you explained, your orange fingernails tracing the rim of your coffee mug. “Since he was so young, he hadn’t really understood the fact that I was his sister, so I instead became the girl he would visit from time to time who owned a pet bunny.” 

Lando leant his elbows on the table, captivated by your way of talking, his interest piqued. 

“And Bunny was easier for him to pronounce than my actual name,” you continued, a faint smile forming on your lips. 

“You had a bunny?”

“Yeah, his name was Taco,” you laughed, your smile growing more genuine. 

He chuckled softly at the name. You would name a pet Taco, that was just the kind of person you were. 

“Do you like having it as a nickname?” Lando inquired, his tone gentle again. 

“I don’t mind it,” you shook your head. “Matteo doesn’t say it anymore, but it’s… it’s different when other people say it.” 

It’s different when you say it, Lando. 

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

“You’re drooling, mate,” Oscar’s voice laughed from behind him as they got out of the cars. 

“I am not,” Lando protested, but Oscar only shook his head. 

He wasn’t fooling anyone as he watched you and Jasmine step out on the front porch, dressed to the nines, ready for the auction. 

Oscar and him had picked up the two cars that were being auctioned off while you got ready. It was important that they were seen driving the cars up to the manor house as they arrived, and you and Jasmine were supposed to be arm candy. It felt both below and above your worth. 

You laughed as you saw the cars, shiny and polished McLaren’s. You didn’t care enough to know the models, you just knew they were worth millions. 

Jasmine walked down to Oscar with ease in her high heels, a beautiful burnt orange satin gown on her body. You watched as he greeted her with a kiss, feeling both a sense of pride and also some loneliness in your stomach. 

Your feet already hurt from your own heels. Something wasn’t entirely right since you broke your ankle, but you would have to suffer through it. 

Lando walked up to the porch, casually keeping his hands in the pockets of his well-fitted black suit. The white shirt he had on underneath probably had one too many buttons undone. Not that you were complaining, it looked gorgeous in contrast with his tan skin. He looked gorgeous. 

You were dressed in all black, apart from your orange nail polish. Your gown with a perfectly poofy tulle skirt and a flattering balconette corset top. You looked delectable, and Lando had a hard time hiding that.  

“Don’t look at me like that,” you said seriously to him. 

“Like what?” Lando replied, feigning innocence as he took your hand to help you down the front porch stairs. 

Like you’re falling in love with me.

“Like this is some early 2000s rom-com and I’m the nerdy girl who’s just gotten a makeover by a more popular girl,” you replied, rolling your eyes but unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

He gave a genuine laugh, the kind that could only bring a smile to your face. He wanted to respond with some cliché statement about how it was only fitting since you looked like a movie star, but he remained silent.

Lando helped you into the car like a real gentleman, while Oscar and Jasmine got into the other one. The drive was two minutes at most. 

“Did you have a dress like that lying around?” he asked, fastening his seatbelt. 

You nodded, moving your hands over your lap to smooth out the fabric. “It’s a prom dress that I never got to use because of covid.” 

A spark lit up in Lando’s eyes. “I never got to have a prom either, y’know.” 

A moment of silence passed between them, the weight of missed milestones hanging heavy in the air. You assumed it was because he hadn’t really gone to school like a normal kid, too busy with karting. Then, with a sudden burst of determination, Lando revved the engine. 

“Come on, let’s treat this night like prom.” 

The manor house was bigger than anything you’d ever seen before. You couldn’t grasp it — the multiple stories, the annex buildings, the beautiful and meticulous gardens. It was all too much for you. 

Lando pulled up to park the car next to the grand entrance, handing the keys to the valet before coming to open the door for you. You were met with camera flashes as soon as you stepped out. It wasn’t paparazzi, thank god — only photographers hired for the event.  

Lando didn’t dare to hold your hand in front of the cameras, this time. He settled with a hand on your lower back as you made your way inside after Jasmine and Oscar. 

The auction was held in a grand hall — no, a conservatory. It had a glass roof. It was filled with decorations, floral arrangements, and candle lights. A stage was built by the end of the room, which you assumed would be where they auctioned things off. 

It was also filled with people, dressed in sharp suits and colourful gowns. It looked photoshopped with how perfect it was. Not a thing out of place nor a person behaving oddly. Except for you, of course. You did not belong here. 

“What are they compensating for? Tiny cocks?” you whispered for only Jasmine to hear as you took in the room. This was bonkers. 

“The tiniest of cocks,” she snorted under her breath. 

Oscar and Lando did have to work — work the room that was, mingling and sucking up to people with big wallets. 

You and Jasmine made your way around as well, albeit much slower and with less intention. You talked to some people, drank some champagne, and eyed the canapés being served around. It didn’t look like anyone was eating, so you didn’t want to be the odd one out. You already were. So, now you were both odd and starving. 

You also eyed the objects up for auction. It was jewellery, cars, and destination vacations in places you’d never heard of. All in favour of some charity that was hardly mentioned once. Was this just a rich person shopping spree without the guilt of overconsumption? 

Lando kept looking across the room for you, his eyes always seeming to find you within seconds. And you found him to, sharing smiles or joking faces, saying get me out of here. 

It wasn’t possessive — it was more of a secret bond that existed right there in time and space, going unnoticed by everyone but the two of you. 

The bond was broken when a man approached you. Lando didn’t recognise him, but he already despised him. He was flirting with you; that would be obvious to anyone but you. You didn’t necessarily look uncomfortable. It seemed more like you found the conversation he tried to have with you pointless. 

You were so oblivious to the impact you had on men, or maybe on all people in general. It made him want to set himself on fire. The itchy feeling inside of him, telling him to scream for everyone in the room to hear — that you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. And that you should be talking to him, and only him. Not some suave-looking asshole in an ill-fitting suit. God, you made him stupid. More stupid than normal. 

As Lando’s thoughts spiralled, you somehow got out of the conversation, swiftly making your way across the room and out of a door that he thought led to the garden. Or one of the gardens. This place was huge. 

He had things to do inside, people to talk to — but for a moment, he came to his senses and said fuck it. He needed to know if you were alright. 

His assumption that the door led to a garden was correct. The evening light cast a silvery glow over it, a tranquil contrast to the busy ballroom. From a distance, he saw you take a seat in an old stone gazebo, covered with ivy. You bent down to unclasp your heels. 

Lord, was he about to risk it all. 

His steps over the gravel path made you hear him, and he couldn’t help but feel busted. 

“Mind if I sit down?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. 

You shook your head, gesturing with your hand to the space beside you. He sat down, shyly looking at his hands in his lap. On the bench, he saw what he thought was the reason you had come out here, besides that man talking to you. Dessert. Two of them in little ramekins, but only one spoon. 

Lando breathed in the silence before hastily asking you what had been on his mind.

“Who was the man you were talking to?”

“Some stuck up think-tank-bitcoin-billionaire,” you huffed. “He asked me if my company was up for auction.” 

It wasn’t company as in a business. It was company as in your time of day. Or time of night more likely. He was asking to spend the night with you. Would audibly gagging be too improper of a reaction? Lando had to fight himself to not do it. 

“What was your answer?” he wondered, trying to keep his cool. 

Your lips turned into a smug smile. “That it’s free for people who deserve it, and then I walked away.” 

Lando chuckled, liking the fact that you showed a sense of pride with your actions. “Do I deserve your company?” 

“Haven’t asked you to leave yet, that should tell you something,” you mumbled, shrugging your shoulders.  

Lando nodded, scrunching his nose, a pink tint on his cheeks forming from the crisp air.

No, he was blushing. It wasn’t even cold outside. 

“Have you had fun otherwise?” He cleared his throat, making the conversation about something else. 

“I don’t know. I feel like a fraud, like I don’t belong,” you shrugged, fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of your dress. “I think I might have convinced multiple people in there that I’m a communist, just because I was raised with a working-class perspective on things.” 

Lando suppressed his laughter for it to not be too loud. You saw his eyes crinkle at the corners.  

“This entire thing just feels performative to me,” you added. 

“Oh, it totally is,” he agreed. 

You glanced back at the manor, hearing the sound of voices in the distance. Your face reflected a mixture of amazement and discomfort. “And don’t get me started on the way people look,” you began again. “My mascara smudged and my dress got wrinkled the minute I stepped into that humid room, yet everyone else continues to look flawless.” 

Lando thought about interrupting you, saying that you still looked flawless to him. Or maybe you didn’t, and that was the best part. He understood your point fully, though. 

You shook your head as you continued, a bitter sigh escaping your lips. “And I can’t walk in heels since I broke my ankle, and my dress shows my scar, and I’m just… being a miserable little twat.”  

You dropped your shoulders, looking down at your bare feet as your heels were on the ground next to them. It hadn’t even crossed Lando’s mind, the shoes nor the scar, but it made sense that you didn’t feel confident about it. That he thought you should be confident wouldn’t exactly change your mind. 

“Oh! And they don’t eat,” you hastily pointed out. “They just hold the food and look pretty.” 

That was definitely true. He knew that you couldn’t eat yourself full at functions like this. His own empty stomach was a testament to that. 

“Is that why you came out here with two desserts and one spoon?” he questioned, containing his laughter to not come across as judgmental. 

You giggled. “Have you seen Amélie?” 

Lando shook his head no. 

“It’s a movie. It doesn’t really matter, but one of the main character’s favourite things in life is cracking the sugar on a crème brûlée, and I… think I agree with that,” you explained, grabbing one of the ramekins and carefully smashing the caramelised surface.  

It made a slight sound. Your eyes lit up as you looked at it. “See? Did you hear that?” 

He couldn’t help but grin at your reaction. 

“Try the other one,” you urged, handing him the spoon.  

He had tried crème brûlée before but never in this way. Never with someone telling him about how it was the best thing in life. As he cracked the sugar, he laughed so hard he felt his chest vibrate. 

He knew he couldn’t eat the dessert because of his diet, but seeing you take a spoonful was almost satisfactory enough. 

“Your mind is so… special,” he smiled in disbelief. He didn’t know what he was saying anymore, he just knew he needed you to hear it. “I don’t get how the universe could’ve created you.” 

Your smile faded as your laughter turned quiet. “Is that a compliment?” 

“In the highest form, Bunny,” Lando insisted. 

He didn’t know how to read your reaction, your sudden silence was a shock for him. Had he ruined a perfect moment by saying too much? That’s when he saw it, the tears pooling in your waterline as you fought with yourself to not let them fall. 

Lando was a soft mess in seconds. “A-are you crying because I complimented you?” 

“I’m sorry,” you said, trying to laugh but your voice came out hoarse. 

“Don’t cry, it’s alright,” Lando said softly, reaching out to wipe the tears away from your face, gently cupping your cheek with his palm.

He crossed a line as he did, moving closer to you than ever before. 

You knew where this was going, and you weren’t prepared for it at all.

“I just…” You were full on crying now. “I have no idea who I am, and this environment really showed me that.” 

Your lack of confidence broke his heart. Things had really piled up on top of each other to now finally get to you. A stupid auction being your downfall, the thing that made you realise how much your life had put you through. 

“I can’t get a degree, I can’t do musicals, and I definitely cannot fit in here. I have no way of being the girl that you want me to be, Lando,” you sobbed, your breathing picking up as your hands gesticulated out of pure panic. 

Your words hung heavy over the garden, suffocatingly, as you honestly believed them to be painfully true.

“Hey… don’t say that,” Lando tried to comfort, grabbing ahold of your hands to stop you moving, centering your focus. “You have no idea what I want from you.”  

“I want to hear you laugh at my stupid jokes. I want to feel your painted nails when you hold my hand. I want to see you get all giddy over a crème brûlée,” he listed things as they came to mind.

The warmth from his hands surrounded you as you let yourself relax, exhaling loudly. 

“I want you to linger in every possible goddamned doorway you can find,” Lando continued, looking you deeply in the eyes. “That’s all. Nothing more.” 

You were so close that he could see how colours reflected in your eyes. He liked you in ways he didn’t know was possible — for the little things that he’d never thought about before with other people. He couldn’t think clearly anymore. He didn’t want to think clearly. Lando hesitated, his eyes searching yours, as if seeking permission. 

You knew where this was going, and you weren’t prepared for it at all.

He scanned your face, his gaze finally landing on your lips. You were waiting for him to move, for him to lean in, because you were too scared to do it yourself. But you wanted him to do it. You wanted it more than anything else. 

But all of a sudden, the lust in his expression turned into concern, and you felt something wet drip down on your upper lip. Blood. 

“Oh, fuck.” Your hands flew to your face, trying to stop the blood from dripping further.

Of course this would happen now. You were cursed, after all. What were you thinking? A pretty boy could not just kiss you. The universe had decided that happiness wasn’t for you. 

“Let me help—” Lando said, trying to get a hold of you to stay still, but you had already stood up. 

You moved to pick up your shoes, and Lando sat frozen in his spot. “I’m gonna walk back to the villa, you stay and do your rich person duties,” your voice cracked as you said it, taking a step back to avoid his proximity. You had panic written all over your face and blood on your hands. 

Lando’s emotions finally caught up with him as he too stood up to try and stop you. “Bunny, please! Don’t go, let’s talk about this,” he pleaded, hearing how pathetic he sounded. But he felt like he had no choice. 

You recoiled further away from him, your eyes glistening with tears as you started to walk, your bare feet over gravel, heels swinging from your hands. 

He couldn’t understand — how you’d gone from laughing about crème brûlées, to crying, to almost kissing each other, and then to you getting a nosebleed. He also couldn’t understand how he had let you get away. Fuck, was he stupid. 

His thoughts got interrupted by the sound of someone running on the gravel. He met Jasmine’s worried eyes, contemplating if she should just murder Lando now. 

“Did she just leave? What did you do?” 

Lando could only shake his head, running a hand through his hair, the gesture portraying his inner turmoil. “I didn’t do anything…” he muttered, sighing loudly. “I was about to kiss her, and then she got a nosebleed all of a sudden.” 

Oscar came walking after Jasmine, just close enough to hear what Lando said. “That’s so typical of her,” he breathed out, baffled at how you always managed to almost comically mess things up.

Jasmine rubbed her temples. “Are the two of you actually fucking stupid?” she questioned angrily before yelling, “Lando, don’t just stand there. Go after her!” 

“To do what? Get rejected again?” he gesticulated with his hands in defeat, feeling his voice crack. His own tears had started to form. 

Jasmine looked back at him like he was stupid. Lando was stupid. That was a fact he now knew.  

“To clean up the blood and then actually fucking kiss her — because she did not reject you, she’s just scared!” Jasmine shot back, an intensity in her eyes that made Lando listen. “All she knows is fear, and falling in love with you hasn’t exactly helped with that.” 

He was stuck, his feet glued to the floor, the weight of Jasmine’s words hit him like a punch in the stomach. Falling in love — that was what the two of you were doing. Lando had been too blinded by his own infatuation to realise that you were scared of it — scared of that stability because your life hadn’t been stable for years. You truly believed yourself to be cursed. 

Fuck, was he stupid. He needed to fix this, and that was quick.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

He left the auction, Oscar assuring him that he could handle the rest of the night alone. The villa was quiet when Lando returned. He didn’t know what he should say when he saw you. He didn’t even know what kind of mood you’d be in. 

For a moment, he stopped in the hallway with all the bedrooms. Your door was open, a faint yellow light seeping through. He heard you moving around, the tap running in your en suite bathroom. That made him dare to move, to stand in your doorway. 

Your room was a bit messy from earlier when you were getting ready, your suitcase basically turned inside out. Your dress was tossed on the floor, next to your heels. A small red stain could be seen on the beige soles. 

Suddenly, you exited the bathroom. Your face was washed clean from makeup and blood, and you were wearing an oversized sleep shirt, reaching your mid-thigh. 

You stopped abruptly when you saw him, first shocked, then annoyed. He had no right to use your own methods against you, even though you knew he was right. Whatever he’d said to you, he would be right. 

“Now is not the time to be lingering in some fucking doorway, Norris,” you snapped, more to mask your own panic than anything else. 

You walked up to the door with determined steps, your fingers hovering over the doorknob. Your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as you clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms.

“I’m not letting you close that door, Bunny,” he said softly, but with an edge of determination, placing his hand on the door so it couldn’t move. 

“I don’t want to hear what you have to say,” you insisted, shaking your head as if to physically ward off his words.

Lando’s eyes softened, the frustration melting away to reveal an expression of raw sincerity. “Doesn’t that defy the point? Your mother’s entire idea with teaching you to linger?” 

“Don’t,” you whispered. He had no right to bring up your mother. 

“We might be dead tomorrow, but you won’t hear me out?” 

“Don’t say that,” you pleaded through gritted teeth, tightly closing your eyes to even bear with your emotions. 

“Why won’t you let me tell you that I like you?” 

He dropped the bomb. He had no option but to confess it to you. It was the scariest thing he’d ever done, yet when it was out there in the open, a weight was off his shoulders. This was meant to go this way. 

You opened your eyes. “Because I’ll screw this up like I always do!” you choked out, voice thick with unshed tears. “I got a nosebleed when you tried to kiss me. I told you — it’s like I’m fucking cursed!”

“Something always gets in the way of me and good things,” you continued. 

“I’m a good thing?” he whispered, but it almost echoed in the quiet room.

“That’s what you got from that?” you cried, looking up at him through wet eyelashes. “You don’t understand. Everything good that comes into my life, I mess up. I can’t even be normal around you because I’m so afraid of ruining it!”

“Because that’s the only thing that matters — that we like each other, that our feelings are mutual,” Lando explained like it was simple. “You’re not cursed. You’re just human. And so am I. We’re allowed to mess up, to be scared, to get nosebleeds at the worst possible moments.”

He took your hand, basically shaking as he held it. You didn’t move away. You let him hold you. You let him closer. 

“Or… if you are cursed, then I’ll start carrying a first aid kit,” Lando continued with a small smile, moving his free hand to wipe your cheek clean from tears. 

You let out a surprised snort, the sound mingling with your sobs. It was a ridiculous notion, yet somehow, it made perfect sense.

“Can I try kissing you again?” he softly wondered, a semblance of hope in his voice.

Lando watched as you started to smile at the question, nodding slowly. “Please, kiss me.”  

He brought both his hands up to your cheeks, your eyes intensely locking for a moment before he softly leant closer, his lips meeting yours in a featherlight connection.

The kiss was sweet. Softer than what you would’ve expected. It was also quite telling of all the emotions that you both harboured inside, finally being set free. 

Lando kissed you like it was important, like his life depended on you knowing how much it meant to him — like the two of you would never need another form of communication to tell each other things. This was for you to know that calling yourself cursed was just stupid. You were scared, that’s all. But you didn’t have to be scared anymore. 

He was the one to break the kiss, his breath hot against your face as he grinned. “See? Not cursed.” 

That was enough to get you laughing, turning your head down to lean against his chest as you let out a pathetic giggle. No blood, no broken bones, no compromised breathing. Okay, maybe your breathing was a little off, but that was to be expected after kissing someone. 

For a long, hazy moment, the two of you simply stare into each other’s eyes. How you ended up on the bed passed in a blur, the only thing your mind could focus on was Lando’s hands on your body. His lips back on yours. 

The kissing quickly grew fevered and devoted, his tongue exploring your mouth, neck, and chest as you melted against him and the soft mattress, your fingers clutching around him. He took away all of your thoughts, every lingering worry or doubt completely removed. Insecurities too, gone with the wind. 

He was breathless when he stopped for a moment to catch his breath. You fiddled with your fingers to undo the buttons on his shirt, revealing a landscape of freckled tan skin before your eyes. His palms moved over your hips, up your waist, cupping the underside of your breasts through the thin cotton of your t-shirt. 

As he moved to take off your shirt, you froze. Lando stopped in his tracks, waiting for you to say something. 

“The scar,” you said. “It makes me feel… weak, and I don’t want you to treat me like I’m weak.” 

Weak was the last word Lando would use to describe you. But he also understood. 

“I don’t have to see it. It’s alright like this if that’s what makes you comfortable,” he explained softly. 

You nodded, deciding on keeping your shirt on as you watched Lando remove his own. He was perfect, and you were you. Maybe that was enough. 

Lando caged you beneath him again, crawling over you, leaving sloppy kisses on your face, arms, and over the fabric of your shirt. The kisses ended with him biting your lower lip as his hands found home in a tight grip on your hips, the lace edge of your underwear tickling his palms. 

“Can I go down on you?” he whispered. His eyes looked for permission to continue, and you nodded, messily kissing him back.

He lowered back down your body again, his strong hands absentmindedly massaging the plush skin of your thighs, before finding the waistband of your panties, pulling them off you in a slow motion. He nestled between your legs, not breaking eye contact. 

You almost felt cold by being naked, even though the room was delightfully warm. You wanted to cringe at what his sight of you must be like, but he didn’t give you a chance to do so, a string of praise words falling from his mouth. 

As each word was said, he spread your wetness through your folds with a feathery movement of his fingers. Lando brushed your clit with a light touch, taking in your reaction before dipping his fingers into the pooling wetness.

“P-please, Lando, oh fuck—” Your voice was wrecked as you grew desperate for more. 

He grinned at your words as his face met your heat, leaving kisses around it before finally touching the part where you needed him the most. “So pretty,” he mumbled against you, kissing your clit. That made your brain short circuit. 

You reached down to push the curls of his forehead as he delved in, softly bringing you pleasure. Sucking on your clit with intention while his fingers curled deeper into you, his free hand gripping at your thigh, certain to leave crescent-shaped imprints from his fingernails as your soft skin spilled out between his fingers.

You truly did look pretty, though — through Lando’s eyes. With the evening glow of the sun shining through the windows and the white linen bedding surrounding your body, you looked angelic. As your shirt rode up, your stomach was revealed. He loved seeing your skin. Nipples pebbled through the t-shirt, hair dishevelled, skin gleaming from a thin layer of sweat. You made him painfully hard by just lying there, letting him taste you. 

“I’m—” You couldn’t get the words out, voice choking on your own moans, but Lando knew to increase the intensity. 

You were a fucking mess when you finished, letting that hazy feeling completely take over, whimpering his name out like it was the sweetest thing. He kept on babying your clit with the tip of his tongue until you tugged at his hair, lifting his face. He could’ve gone on forever if you’d let him. 

“Come up here,” you urged him, your voice shaky. You watched him lick his glossy lips, running a hand up your body in a soothing manner before collapsing next to you. 

“You should see how breathtaking you look right now,” he exhaled, looking at you with your face flushed and your eyes glossed over. You stared at him so deeply, catching your breath, as you realised you couldn’t decide what eye colour he had. They shifted from green, to blue, to brown. Fuck, you were spent. 

You thought for a while, and Lando could see it on your face, a mischievous grin forming on your lips before your hands moved down his stomach, stopping by his belt buckle. He let you undo it, your bottom lip nestled between your teeth as you teasingly looked up at him.

Already worked up from before, he moaned as you started to palm him over his trousers.

“I’m not gonna last if you do that,” Lando gasped, holding your hand still with a tight grip around your wrist. 

“Take them off, then,” you simply answered, earning a laugh. 

He couldn’t say no to that, moving awkwardly to get both trousers and underwear off as quickly as possible. He then settled closer to you, having you basically wrap your legs around him, clinging like a koala. You shared a look between each other, making sure that this was okay. It was so much more than okay. This felt necessary, like you were meant to do it. 

“I’m on the pill, so this is fine by me,” you explained to him, a tremble in your voice by having him so close to you. 

He kissed you before he did anything else, settling your nerves. Feeling your bodies mould together, creating a common heat. He glided himself through your folds, touching your already stimulated clit. As an act of desperation, you moved your hips lower, grinding against him. 

“You okay?” he chuckled. 

You hummed against the skin on his shoulder, playfully nibbling as you kissed him all over. His eyes met yours as he pushed into you, waiting patiently to see your reaction to the light stretch. You nodded, your breath hitching as he began moving more purposefully. 

The slow drags set of sparks of pleasure within you, so intense your eyes rolled back. You weren’t sure what kind of noises left your body, uncontrollable with the pleasure. Hearing Lando moan deeply into your ears made you feel less unsure.  

Completely intoxicated, you tried your best to take it all in. You focused on the golden shimmer in his eyes, the scattered freckles on his face, and the scar on his nose. It was so warm, and wet, feeling him thrust inside of you. You didn’t know what to do with your hands again, just desperately spreading them over his back to his shoulders. Your sharp nails were destined to leave claw marks. 

“Faster, baby,” you breathed out, ready for more. 

You felt Lando grin against your cheek as he heard the pet name. It had completely slipped out on accident, but that didn’t mean it drove him any less crazy. You felt him grip your body harder as he fucked up into you.

“Doing so well for me,” he moaned out your name. “C’mon, Bunny, let me see how pretty you are when you come again.”  

A litany of moans filled the room, from the both of you. That, along with the sounds of your bodies crashing together, made you fucking delirious. You were close, so close. You wanted to feel that feeling again, of him bringing you to the end.

You shamelessly used him as you felt the familiar fire spread through your veins. He wasn’t long after, almost lifting your body to get you closer to him as he finished. His moans were slow and shaky as he rested his lips on your forehead.

His hips lost all rhythm as he spilled into you, his cock twitching inside you while he slowly pumped you full of his release, thrusting several times as he rode it out. You wanted to memorise the guttural sounds and the tremble of his face muscles as he reached the ultimate high. 

“We’re a mess,” he commented, burying his face into the crook of your neck. 

You let out a small chuckle. “Stay still for a second,” you ordered him as you relaxed in his hold. Both of you sighed at the sensation of him filling you up completely. You would enjoy this feeling of having him as close as humanly possible for as long as he let you.

“I don’t ever want to move.” he murmured against your hair.

You caught your breaths in unity, staying close together without saying much more. You didn’t need to. Lando knew that all his future dreams would take place here, lying quietly next to you, in your own sacred heaven. You two, sharing heavy breathing and sighs, after delicately bruising each other’s bodies. 

He looked you deep in your eyes, seeing how tired you were, but solidifying what was once a doubt for you. He looked at you like you were a risk worth taking. A river worth wading. A river worth drowning in. 

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Lando woke up the morning after feeling well rested, in a bed that was warm and the sheets scented by you. He felt you moving next to him as he came out of his slumber, mumbling something about it being too hot and how you had forgotten to open the window before falling asleep. 

He didn’t understand how you felt hot when all he felt was ice cold as you left him alone in bed. The room got brighter as you moved the curtains, opening a window to let in the outside air. He opened his eyes to see you, back turned against him, stretching your body to wake up. A grin plastered on his face. He was painfully happy. 

You moved to wrap your arms around yourself, lifting the hem of the shirt you’d slept in. As you pulled it over your body, Lando got a view of your entire being. He was certainly awake now. Naked, your skin glowed golden technicolour from the sunlight, in stark contrast to the white room. 

You knew exactly what you were doing as you slowly turned around. 

“Just look at you…” Lando exhaled. “Fucking gorgeous, Bunny.” 

In seconds, you were back in bed next to him, pulling the bedding up to hide your face. 

“Gonna act all shy now?” he teased, chuckling. 

As you peeked back out, Lando was quick to get closer to you. He hovered over you as his hands found your body. 

He didn’t even have to tell you — your lips already parting as his thumb caressed your cheek, moving closer to your mouth. You took his thumb in your mouth, softly sucking as it rested on your tongue. You saw how his eyes fluttered at the feeling, gently removing it to press a passionate kiss to your wet lips. 

Lando was hesitant to let his hands wander lower, softly cupping your breasts and littering your sternum with open-mouthed kisses. His fingertips lightly pinched the sensitive peaks of your nipples, as he looked up at you through tired eyes, always wanting your reassurance, as his lips got close to the scar. 

You nodded gently, allowing him to kiss it. You didn’t like touching the scar, but somehow, you had no issue when his mouth did it. He kissed it gently before moving to kiss your nipple. He smiled with pride at the breathy gasp you let out as he placed his mouth on you. You were practically whining at the pressure of him sucking at your skin. 

He released you after a moment, lying down next to you. He felt your heartbeat through your chest as his head rested on top of your breast, softly padded by the plush skin. You looked down at him with joy, placing a finger under his chin so he was looking right back at you. 

Slowly, your fingers traced his face. He smiled at your orange nail polish. You took your time tracing the bridge of his nose, stopping when you got to the little mark he had right across it. He had his scars too. 

“My heart hurts,” you groaned quietly, as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“Huh? Are you serious?” he mumbled against the skin of your chest. 

“It’s a dull ache, a desire almost,” you explained, and Lando understood your point. 

“I think it’s contagious,” Lando smiled. He let the words linger in the air before adding, “You should come with me to Hungary after this.” 

You sighed, realising how hard it would be to say no to him in the future. “I don’t go back to uni for another couple of weeks, so…” 

“I’m buying you a plane ticket right now,” he said, reaching for his phone, but your hands stopped him. 

“No,” you said. 

For a second, Lando started to second-guess everything. 

“Join me in the shower first.” 

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Thank you for reading ♡ Feedback is well appreciated!

[samkerrworshipper]

las 15.

mapi leon x reader, alexia putellas x reader (platonic)

warnings: the spanish federation ick

erm look at me posting something 😮 anyways enjoy haha i kinda hate it but need to feed yall somehow

“You need to be aware of the consequences of what could happen if you sign this document.”

You stared down at the mahogany surface of your lawyers desk, it was dark, sanded, smooth and shiny. Contemporary, but it also looked old, like a heirloom. It distracted your from the non stop drawl.

“I don’t care, I’m signing it.”

Your eyes travelled along the surface, lookinbg at the different waves of wood and the way that the dark colours marbled together.

“The RFEF could come for you, they could try and take your license. You might not compete at the world cup, the press will come for you, Vilda will come for you, Barca could reduce your playing time, it could be the end of your career. There are other negatives.”

You’ve thought about all of them of course, how could you not?

“I’ve already said it, I don’t care. Let them come for me, let them do whatever they want. I am done with it all. Fourteen other players have signed it, no? I will be the fifteenth and that is final.”

You weren’t a big fan of your lawyer, he was old and money oriented. He also didn’t have your best interest in mind, his sole focus was earning you as much money as possible, which had been fine up until today.

“So what? You plan to be the best in the world and never play international football again? This will ruin your career, it will put an end to the Ballon D’or campaign, it will change things for you, you can’t just do this because your girlfriend does it as well, this will be detrimental for you.”

The wood grooved at the edges, flattening out and curving so the edges weren’t too sharp.

“I refuse to stand by and submit myself to abuse. That’s what happens every time I go to that place, every time I go to camp I submit myself to abuse, torture, horrific conditions. The fact that you would even dare imply that I would do this for anybody but myself is preposterous. I am better than the condition I am being subkmitted to, I deserve better than to be objectified and treated as if I am dirt on that man’s shoe and I refuse to be treated as such. I have standards for myself and the people around me and I refuse to live by these for much longer. I’ll draft up the letter, I’ll send it to you for editing purposes and once your done you will send it to the RFEF, consequences be damned. You should be glad that I lasted two more windows then everyone else, honestly I’m ashamed that I didn’t do this earlier, but I’m ready to take a stand with everybody else now. I don’t want to play in a World Cup if it means this is how I will live my life.”

You looked up at your lawyer, hoping the fire burning in your soul was reflective in your eyes.

“This is a bad decision, you are thinking with your heart and not your head, this is unlike you.”

You pulled your eyes from the mahogany, standing up from your seat slowly.

“No, I’m thinking with my own interests, not yours, not my managers, not my bank accounts. I’m thinking with my mental health, my emotional health and my physical health. For the first time in my life I am taking time to focus on myself, so tyeah maybe it’s unlike me, but I’d like to think this might be the a better version of me, I’ll email you my letter, all you havr to do is forward it, if it’s such a struggle don’t even bother reading it, I don’t care what you have to say, I’m legally obligated to make you aware of any contractual issues so here I am. Give a fuck, don’t give a fuck, it doesn’t change anything for me, I’ve made my decision and nothing or nobody will make me change my mind.”

You didn’t wait around to hear what he planned to say in rebuttal, exiting the stuffy office as quickly as your legs would allow.

You made it to your car before you felt the tears flooding down your face. Even now, even after you’d tried to speak out you still felt like you were being silenced, like nothing had changed. That’s why you were doing what you were doing, why you knew this was what you needed to do. It didn’t make it any easier though, knowing that no matter what choices you made, even if they were for the good of you there were still going to be people around you who condemned them.

You were supposed to be at training, but you’d taken the day of to finalise all this bullshit. It was frustrating, knowing that the choices you were making for the good of yourself could end up being harmful to your career in a multitude of ways, it was all so fucking hard.

Everybody was at training, and yet here you were balling your eyes out in the carpark of your stupid fucking lawyers office.

If you hadn’t hit rock bottom at the last camp, the this was it, this was your final straw.

It was all too much, you’d been holding out for too long, but the mixture of the other 14 girls refusing to come back and Alexia’s injury had been enough of a motivation for Vilda to try and ruin your life. It had started with extra training after your sessions, then sessions in the mornings, then separating you from the rest of the team, limiting your diet, gym sessions, changing your schedules to everybody elses, punishing you for nothing, treating you like you were a slave to the Spanish Women’s team.

You were the best midfielder they had, excluding Alexia, and she was hurt, you were the scapegoat for the team, you were responsible for the wins and the reason for the losses.

You knew that with your leave, somebody else would end up taking your role, probably Aitana who was far to young to deal with that kind of pain, and you felt bad, you felt more guilty than you thought possible, but you couldnt do it for any longer, you couldn’t act like it wasn’t killing you on the inside for every second that you spent away with those people.

You hated it, you hated feeling like nothing, you hated feeling worthless, you hated living your life like it was pointless, you couldn’t do it for any longer, not when you were giving up every single part of yourself to keep yourself together.

You couldn’t stay how you were, crying in the drivers seat of your car milling over the memories of your last camp, you needed to leave, needed to go somewhere, needed to talk somebody.

Before you really knew what you were doing you’d started driving, letting the tears drip onto your lap and the steering wheel as you frantically drove your way through the city.

You couldn’t be alone, but you also couldn’t handle all the eyes of your teammates, so you drove to the one other place that you could think of where you hoped somebody would be.

You tried your hardest to wipe the tears from your face, but they kept falling, the sleeve of your shirt getting damper by the second as you tried to wipe up the evidence of your breakdown. It was useless, and eventually you gave up, stepping out of your car and ducking your head as you walked towards the lift and navigated your way through the apartment building.

The person you were looking for didn’t answer the door, instead you were put face to face with Olga.

“Hola chica, Ale didn’t tell me she was expecting visitors.”

You bit down on your lip, tapping your foot against the floor as you peeked around Olga, searching for the person you were seeking out.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t tell her, I can go home, I know she’s been busy with her rehab, I don’t even know how I ended up here.”

Olga tugged at your arm before you could spit anything else out, tugging you through the door and closing it from behind you.

“Nonsense chica, you’re very welcome here, Alexia is sitting out on the balcony doing her exercises, she’ll be more than happy to have your company, just head on through, your always welcome here.”

You nodded at Olga, smiling at her as much as you could with your lip still stuck between your teeth.

“Thank you, thank you so much, I really appreciate.”

You tried to ignore the tears that were still dripping down your face, it didn’t feel like you were crying, even though you were, it more felt like you were shedding a layer of yourself, the layer that was holding all of the trauma that you’d been holding in, like it was your way of getting rid of it all.

Alexia’s apartment was meticulously clean as ever, but you spotted her out in the sun easily.

She was standing outside, in a pose similar to ones you did in your yoga sessions.

She looked at peace, like she was calm, like she was serene, the complete polar opposite to how you felt and you really didn’t want to burden her with your problems, but you were here now anyways.

You tiptoed over to the glass sliding door, pushing it open, causing Alexia’s head to peak up at you. She looks at you with curiosity, but doesn;t move, instead her head nods you towards one of the outdoor lounges beside her, which you beeline for.

She stays in her position as she addresses you.

“The appointment with your lawyer didn’t go well then?”

You did a double take as you stared at Alexia, shocked at the information she’d somehow managed to obtain.

“You don’t take me for a idiota do you? Mapi told me you had a appointment you were keeping quiet about this morning, it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out who it must have been with, considering recent events. Although your girlfriend wasn’t smart enough to work it out herself.”

Alexia stayed in her stretch, looking at you as if to prompt you to tell her more.

“Yes, I had a appointment with my lawyer, Alexia.”

Alexia smirked to herself, she was one of the most obersvanet people you knew, nothing got by her, you weren’t all that surprised to find out that this hadn’t.

“You’ll be joining the group then?”

You hadn’t really comes to terms with it, let alone saying it out loud.

“That’s the plan, should be official by tomorrow.”

Tears were still dripping down your face, you couldn’t find yourself caring though.

“Good for you. You deserve better, we all deserve better, may we all hopefully make a change.”

Alexia wasn’t officially a part of the movement, but she was everyway besides a signature as equally involved as everybody else.

“It just feels like i’m letting the team down, that I’m letting everyone down.”

Alexia nodded at you, finally coming out of her stretch and walking over to sit down next to you.

“You’re doing what’s good for you chica, your doing something that is going to make you happier, that is going to make your life better. Nobody else matters beyond that, trust me.”

Alexia looked at you, like she was genuinely struggling to help you out in the moment. She had been your mentor at Barca for forever, you seeked out her advice more than anybody elses, especially in this moment.

“I don’t know how to do it anymore, it’s like he was trying to ruin my fucking life, like his whole purpose for everyday was to make my life a living hell, and I just couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t walk around camp acting like it was fine, I couldn’t smile at cameras and talk to the press and tell them about how great I was feeling when it was all lies, all I wanted to do was leave, or sleep, or die, all because of his and his staff. They were hardly feeding me, hardly letting me sleep, hardly giving me a break and expecting me to perform at the same level as everybody else, if not better. I just couldn’t do it anymore Ale, it was too much.”

Alexia’s arm placed itself on your knee, squeezing your covered skin.

“You shouldn’t have to, you needed to leave and you did, you made the right decision chica, you made a impossible decision that will make your life 100 times easier, it doesn’t make you weak, it makes you so incredibly brave for being able to identify that you were being treated wrongly and that you needed to remove yourself from that space.”

The tears kept falling, your pants were slowly becoming soaked with the raw emotion.

“Mapi did it because of the abuse, because she had a legitimate reason, I’m leaving because they worked me a little bit harder than everybody else, it feels like I’m overreacting.”

You could feel Alexia rolling her eyes from beside you.

“Really? Has Mapi told you that?”

Mapi had told you that you deserved the world, you deserved everything you wanted, you deserved to be treated like a queen, not how the RFEF was treating you. She’d told you the decision was yours, that she would support you no matter what you did, but she’d also told you that after every camp you came back with a little bit less of yourself, that Vilda was stripping parts of you away to use at his mercy.

“It’s not the same thing, Patri, Pina, Mapi, they all have good reasons, they’ve all been hurt, Vilda is just trying to make me better, trying to make me worthy.”

Alexia’s hand squeezed tighter.

“You’re lying to yourself and you know it. As long as he is in charge, you aren’t going to get treated how you deserve, none of us are. We’ve all paid our dues, yet they don’t give a shit, they break us all down until we’ve got nothing left to give. They broke me down until I did my acl, if you hadn’t of left they would have done the same to you. It’s nonstop, even if it isn’t the same kind of abuse as Mapi, it’s still abuse, they still rip out every part of you in the process. Each time you come back you have less of yourself to offer, but they keep taking, and taking, they make us feel nothing. It’s a waste, it’s a waste of the wonderful life we’ve all been gifted. We deserve to be happy, we deserve to be free of the pain.”

You nodded your head, you’d been avoiding telling Mapi about all of this. You were conscious that she was still working through a lot of her own trauma, and you didn’t want to reopen scars that were only just beginning to heal.

“I don’t know what to do Ale, I sign the papers, I write the letters and I’m taking a stand, I’m trying to make a change. I stay, I wreck it all, but I keep my career. It feels like I’m at a crossroads with myself, and I can’t talk about it weith Maps because god forbid shes already been through enough with her own struggle through it all, she doesn’t need me on top of that.”

Alexia stood back up, getting back onto her mat and pushing herself into another stretch, all whilst she maintained eye contact with you.

“Mapi’s talked to you about her struggles, si? She’s burdening you with her own problems, yet it doesn’t feel that way, because you love her and you’d do anything to make her pain less. I guarantee she’d feel the exact same way. You’ve been through a lot, none of us will ever be able to completely comprehend what you’ve been through, but if you started talking to your loved ones about it we’d be able to support you better. Or a therapist, I know Barca has been giving you sessions, but I mean a real psychologist, not just a person who tells you that you need a day off. You need somebody to help you, to actually make you feel like you deserve better than how they treated you, because I know that you know that but I don’t think you really believe it.”

The tears were slowly coming to a standstill, slipping less frequently down your face as Alexia talked to you.

“I don’t want to make her hurt any more than she already has.”

Alexia just looked at you, with that double eyebrow raise and little crinkle in her forehead.

“If you think that Maria wouldn’t do anything for you, even if it meant sucking every single inch of pain from your body and putting it into hers, she would do it and she would do it with a smile on her face. Her whole world, her whole solar system revolves around you and she’d want you to talk to her about this. She knows better than anybody else what you’re experiencing, she’s literally been where you are, so why not talk to her about it?”

It was true, for as long as Mapi and you had been together she’d tried to fix every single thing, she would do anything to make you feel better, this didn’t feel the same though.

“She deserves to live in a world where Vilda, where the RFEF, don’t affect her anymore. She signed the petition, she’s cleaned her hands of it all, and I should have done it with her, but I didn’t. I chose to keep playing for the benefit of my career, because I was greedy and decided that a Ballon D’or and any kind of accolade I was a shot at was more important then taking a stand and I hate it. I hate that now that I’ve won things that suddenly it’s all hit me that I don’t like what’s been happening, and I don’t want to support it. Mapi doesn’t deserve to go through it a second time, all because I was greedy.”

Alexia switched sides on her stretch, the sun was radiating off of her olive skin and her blonde hair, she looked ethereal.

“Have you told her anything about it?”

Alexia was frowning, like she was shocked by your actions.

“She knows that I was struggling at camp, she told me I was welcome to talk to her. After the last one she knew something had changed, she told me she was worried and I shook her off, because I thought she was being overprotective, but she was right, she had reason to be worried, I wasn’t okay. I’m not okay, i don’t know how to process it all.”

Alexia nodded.

“Go home, tell her what’s happening, see what she says, I think it’ll be a lot better than whatever you’ve thought up. Mapi has been my bestfriend for years, she’s dated my sister, she’s dated my friends and I can confidently tell you that she loves you more than any of them, you’re her do or die, all she’ll want to do is support you, please just go and talk to her.”

Alexia looked at you with such conviction and honesty that you couldn’t find it in you to try and fight her on the topic.

“Thank you Ale, I needed this, I needed to talk to somebody, needed to feel less crazy.”

Alexia did one last stretch before standing up, pulling you into a tight hug before you could pull away.

“You’re not crazy chica, you’re going through a very real, very hard time, and you deserve to have the people around you show you how much they love you.”

Alexia let go of you, shoving you back towards the door.

“Go talk to your girl, and sign those papers, and be happy, enjoy life, enjoy peace. You deserve it, chica.”

You nodded into Alexia’s shoulder, letting go of her and slipping back into her apartment, leaving her to get back to her stretching.

You shivered when you spotted Mapi’s car already parked in her spot. You knew you’d be cutting it close with getting home earlier then her, but you’d held a silent hope that you would be the first home. You hesitated to exit your car, scared of what the inside of your apartment held. You weren’t scared so much, more a little bit tentative of the conversation that you were about to have, knowing that it could majorly impact your relationship. In your heart, you knew that Mapi would love you no matter what, but it didn’t calm the nerves inside of you as you pulled your keys from the ignition, pulled out the papers that your lawyer had given you and exited your car.

The whole walk from your car, to the elevator and then down the hallway to your apartment had your heart thrumming inside of your chest. Your hands were quite literally shaking as you pushed your key into the door.

You toed your shoes off at the door, slotting them down beside the door before slowly walking your way through the entrance. It wasn’t hard to find Mapi, she was right in front of you, sitting down at the island bench, patting Bagheera and eating a post training salad. You knew that there was one meant for you still sitting on the shelf of your fridge, from when the two of you had meal planned yesterday. She looked so undisturbed, with the afternoon light coming in through the gaps in the blinds and the general silence that you were about to break.

You announce yourself by slinging your bag down against the wall, a loud enough noise that seems to wake Mapi from her happy daze.

She smiles as soon as her eyes set on you and it only makes the weight in your gut feel ten times heavier and the pain in your heart ten times worse.

You wanted to turn around and walk right back out the door you’d just walked through, but you couldn’t, not with the way that Mapi looked at you, like her whole day had been made by your appearance.

“Hola bebita, how was your meeting?”

Mapi’s smiling ear to ear, quite literally, you swear you can see every single one of her teeth. It had hurt you to lie to Mapi about where you were going today, telling her that you’d had a crucial appointment with your manager about some media things, it wasn’t a direct lie. You had met with your manager, instead of it being positive though, it had been quite the opposite.

You didn’t have any words to reiterate to Mapi, so instead you just picked up the papers that were tucked away in your hands and placed them down on the island infront of her.

Mapi looked at you with confusion for a few seconds.

“Just read them, you’ll understand it more once you have.”

Mapi didn’t hesitate, picking up the first piece of paper and scanning over it, before moving onto the second, then the third and so on, till she’d made it through the entire stack.

You stood anxiously on your toes the whole time, balancing from one foot to the other as you contemplated how Mapi was going to reply to this sudden change.

When she did finish, she looked up at you, a lot of questions hidden behind her curious eyes.

“I’m resigning, or requesting they don’t call me up. I don’t want to play for a federation that doesn’t care about me. I’m sorry I didn’t do it earlier, but I wasn’t ready and I’m sorry I’m bother you with it now but I’m also sorry I didn’t tell you about it earlier, I met with my lawyer for the first time today to sign the documents and write my statement. If it all goes to plan then they should be out in the next week. I don’t want to do it anymore, I can’t do it anymore, I’m sorry.”

Mapi blinked a few times, like you’d just blindsided her completely, and you figured you had.

“I didn’t even really know it was happening until after last camp, and I just realised that I was so exhausted and so tired and so sick of it all that I couldn’t do it again. I should have done it earlier, I should have been a part of it all from the start but I was scared and I still am scared Maps. This is supposed to be my job, I’m supposed to be grateful for the opportunities I’m given and yet I feel like I’m a fraud and I’m lying when I say that because I’m not grateful and I’m not happy and I can’t do it anymore, I just can’t. I’ve been praying every night that I get injured, so that I get a break like Ale, and I don’t want to feel like that anymore.”

Mapi just stood up and pulled you into her arms, silencing the rambling and making you realise that you were now crying again.

She slowly led you towards the couch, bringing you into her arms as you tried to take control of yourself.

It felt like every piece of anguish, every piece of fear, every piece of internal hatred was slowly being pulled from your body and it felt so good, like you were somehow being healed.

Mapi wiated until you were coherent enough, until you felt more resurfaced, and less like the bloodn was rushing through your ears and every though of self-doubt was spirally through the different ridges of your brain.

“Princesa, you’ve made this decision for you, si? Not because of me, not because of anybody else, because you believe this is best for you?”

You nodded into her chest, enjoying the feeling of your own skin pressed directly to hers.

“I’m sick of them making me feel this way Maps, I don’t like it, I don’t think it’s right.”

Mapi’s body was surrounding you, her scent, her feel, her everything, and it was all you’d needed today, everything that Alexia had assured you would make you feel better.

Mapi’s salad was forgotten on the counter.

Bagheera was somewhere else.

It was just the two of you, just the two of you to face everything.

“We’re put into boxes, as women, men try to make us be everything and yet nothing. It’s not right, we’re expected to be as good as the men, but we have to behave eloquently, say our pleases and thank yous and never be ungrateful for the piss poor conditions we put up with. We’re supposed to be passionate, but we’re not allowed to over react in any way. We can only underperform, not overperform. There are no expectations for us, because we’re women and we’re supposed to be worse than the men, but they’re are also so many expectations for us to meet. It’s okay for you to be done with that, there is nothing wrong with you saying no to constantly being abused. You’re not a fraud bebita and I’m here for you no matter what. You’re my girlfriend first, a person second and a soccer player last. It doesn’t matter, none of it matters, you matter, you’re feelings and how you feel is what matters.”

Mapi’s hand pulled your head from her neck, her lips connecting with your forehead with ease.

“I’m not doing it anymore Maps. I want to be strong, I want to say no. I want to be a part of the right side of history. I don’t want to sit around pretending everything’s fine when it’s not fine. It’s nowhere near fine and until there is a change it won’t be.”

Mapi nodded, pressing a series of kisses to your forehead.

“Then we’ll work it out, you’ll keep me in the loop and we’ll figure it out together, no more hiding these big feelings from me. We’ll go and see our therapists and take soe time off and do whatever you need to feel safe and happy, because what matters is you, nobody else, si?”

You nodded your head once again, enjoying the same smile that her face was covered in. her lips migrated down to your cheeks, pressing kisses to the rosiest parts, pushing the tears away.

“I’ve got you bebita, we’ve got each other, we’re going to be fine, we all are.”

[justlemmeadoreyou]

hey babes have you seen that video of a fan asking Niall out recently and like he says “oh she(Amelia) will be upset” ? Could you maybe write cut blurb based on that for Harry and y/n??

words: 1.2k

warnings: fluff, smut.

***

"Oi, Harry! You single, mate? My friend fancies you!" a voice called out from the crowd during the concert.

Harry laughed and brought the microphone up to his lips. "Sorry, sorry! I'm very much taken, lads. My girlfriend wouldn't be too pleased if I went accepting offers from admirers!"

Y/N felt a rush of giddy affection watching from the wings. Even after all these years of dating, of building a life together, hearing Harry refer to her as his girlfriend still made her heart flutter.

After the show, Harry swept her up into a tight embrace, breathing her in. "You know I'm crazy about you, right love?" he murmured against her hair.

"I know," Y/N replied, feeling warm and content in the circle of his arms. "I'm pretty crazy about you too, just in case that wasn't clear."

He pulled back with a teasing grin. "Oh, I don't know. You'll have to remind me more often. I'm getting forgetful in my old age."

She swatted him playfully. "You're ridiculous. Now c'mon, I want to get takeaway from that Thai place you like before heading home."

As they walked out to the car hand-in-hand, Harry's bodyguard Mick greeted them with a nod. "Nice show tonight, H. You too, Y/N."

"Thanks Mick," Harry said easily. He always insisted that Y/N be treated as an equal part of the team by his staff and security. From the moment they got together, he made it clear she wasn't just another fling or hanger-on.

In the calm of their flat later, settled on the couch with cartons of fragrant Thai curry, Y/N felt a swell of love for this man. This generous, humble, wildly talented man who could have anyone he wanted but chose her. Chose to keep choosing her, day after day.

Harry must have sensed her watching him, because he looked up and caught her eye with a quizzical smile. "What're you thinking about over there?"

She shook her head a little. "Just…feeling really lucky, I guess. That of all the girls who fancy you, you picked me."

His eyes softened and he set his food down, reaching over to take her hand. "Y/N, you've got it backwards, love. I'm the lucky one. You're the most amazing person I know."

A lump rose in her throat at his earnest tone. "You can't just…say stuff like that and expect me to keep it together," she protested shakily.

Harry's thumb stroked over her knuckles. "It's true though. You make me want to be better, do more with the chances I've been given. I'm in awe of you every day."

Unable to find the words, Y/N leaned in and kissed him deeply, trying to convey the depths of her feelings. Harry kissed her back with equal fervor, until a wet noodle hit the side of his face with a comical splat sound.

They broke apart, stunned for a beat, until Y/N started giggling helplessly. Soon they were both consumed by laughter, food containers forgotten as they held each other. These were the moments Y/N cherished most - the simple intimacy, the shared joy of being thoroughly themselves with each other.

She couldn't imagine her life without Harry's bright spirit, without his love and support buoying her up. They had been through so much together already - the difficult early days of dating an international superstar, the intense scrutiny and pressure from all sides, the constant travelling and time apart.

Through it all, they had remained committed to choosing each other, fighting for their relationship no matter what curveballs life threw their way.

As their laughter faded off into contented silence, Harry pulled Y/N closer until she was tucked against his side. She let out a happy sigh, feeling utterly at peace.

"You know," Harry murmured after a while. "All those fans shouting for me, acting like I'm some big prize to be won…they don't realize I'm the one who hit the jackpot, getting to be with my best friend."

Not trusting her voice, Y/N simply squeezed him tighter. She knew there would always be people trying to get between them, throwing doubts and obstacles in their path. But she also knew with so much certainty - as long as they had this, had each other, nothing else mattered.

Over the next few months, tour life resumed in earnest. Frantic dashes through airports, screaming crowds, hotel room nights blurring together, every waking moment scheduled to the max. Y/N was grateful she could be by Harry's side through the whirlwind, her familiar presence keeping him grounded and sane.

One night after a show in Los Angeles, they were lounging on the hotel room sofa, Harry's head pillowed in Y/N's lap as she carded her fingers gently through his freshly-shampooed hair that always smelt so fucking good.

"You were amazing tonight, babe," Y/N murmured. "That whole stadium was eating out of the palm of your hand."

Harry hummed contentedly at her praise, his eyes slipping closed. "Felt good up there. Like all the pieces just clicked into place once I saw your face in the crowd."

Y/N's heart squeezed at his words. "You mean that?"

"Of course." He blinked up at her solemnly. "Having you there, it's…it's like coming home, no matter where we are in the world."

Tears pricked at the corners of Y/N's eyes as she leaned down to kiss him tenderly. She loved this man so deeply it terrified her sometimes.

As the kiss deepened, Harry's hands came up to cradle her face, holding her to him almost desperately. Soon they were a tangle of roaming hands and shared breaths, shedding layers of clothing with increasing urgency until they lay skin-to-skin, hot and bothered.

Harry trailed hot, openmouthed kisses down the column of Y/N's throat as she arched beneath him with a breathy moan. "Need you," he rasped against the hollow of her neck. "Need to be with you, feel you…"

"Yes, yes Harry please," she panted, raking her nails down his back.

He shuddered at her touch and surged up to capture her lips again in a searing kiss. Then, with practiced tenderness, he sank into her welcoming heat and they both let out ragged gasps at the intensity of that joined feeling.

Moving together in a rhythm, Harry and Y/N lost themselves in each other, with moans and whimpers exchanged between the two as they chased their highs. This was their oasis, their refuge from the craziness of the world outside - just the two of them, tangled up in each other utterly.

Aftershocks still trembling through them both, Harry gathered Y/N close and pressed his lips to her damp hairline.

"I love you," he murmured thickly. "I love you so bloody much, Y/N."

She tilted her head back to gaze at him with sparkling eyes. "I know. And I love you, Harry. Always."

Smiling softly, he brushed the pad of his thumb over her swollen bottom lip. "Forever my girl?"

"Forever," she promised.

***

tell me if you like this <3

[wileys-russo]

Please could you write something with reader trying to teach alexia english😩

PSA: I don’t speak Spanish so I sincerely apologise for any mistakes

second languages II a.putellas

"hola! ale?" you called out as you let yourself into your girlfriends apartment, bending down to scoop up nala who came hurtling at you from the sofa. "hola!" you heard the blonde call out from her bedroom as you cooed at the small ball of fluff in your arms and kicked off your shoes, sliding them to sit neatly beside your girlfriends.

you couldn't help but chuckle as you entered the bedroom to see alexia's eyes trained on the large tv on her wall, watching barcelonas last match with real madrid. a notebook and pen sat nestled in her lap, the girl clearly taking notes before their upcoming rival game this weekend.

"nadie puede decir que no estás dedicada bonita." (no one can ever say you are not dedicated) you laughed, placing nala down and shaking your head. "para ser el mejor tienes que saber todo sobre tu oponente. hola hermosa." (to be the best you have to know everything about your opponent. hi beautiful) your girlfriend shrugged, moving her notebook away and opening her arms expectantly.

"y por eso eres la mejor?" (and that is why you are the best?) you laughed, placing your keys and phone down on her desk. "si es por eso que soy la mejor." (yes, that is why i am the best) the catalan grinned as you collapsed on top of her, your arms wrapping around one another in a tight hug.

"No es que me queje al verte. pero pensé que tenías trabajo esta tarde?" (not that i am complaining to see you. but i thought you had jobs this afternoon?) alexia questioned curiously as you moved a few loose strands of hair out of her face.

"a few clients cancelled so it freed up my afternoon." you explained with a happy smile, honestly not all that bothered if it meant you got to spend more time with her.

"veo. bueno, al juego todavía le queda la mitad." (i see. well the game still has one half to go) your girlfriend smiled as you sighed, knowing her well enough that there would be very little you could say to pry her away from her match studies.

"i'm gonna go make some food then." you chuckled, pecking her lips and moving to stand but her arms stayed locked around you. "o podrías quedarte y mirar conmigo mi vida." (or you could stay and watch with me) alexia grinned, wiggling her eyebrows making you laugh.

"haré algo de comida y luego volveré y miraré. okay?" (i will make some food then come back and watch) you bargained, the blonde humming and letting you up. "si, okay."

"and don't forget, we're practicing your english later." you reminded causing the older girl to groan loudly in contempt. "ale! you promised." you warned at her response, the blonde flopping backwards and sighing.

"de repente me siento muy mal bebe. podría perder mi voz." (suddenly i am feeling very sick baby. i might lose my voice) the taller girl faked a cough causing you to narrow your eyes at her in a glare.

"alexia you are the one who asked me to help you be more confident in your english. so that you can speak easier with my family!" you warned her sternly, the midfielder whining like a child throwing a tantrum as she kicked her feet and dragged her hands down her face.

bit by the travel bug you decided to spend a summer interning in barcelona around a year and a half ago, you already knew spanish from studying it in school and so when the opportunity came up from one of your old teachers for a photography internship abroad, you'd have been stupid to say no.

that was how you'd met alexia, a few months in you'd been sent to assist on a shoot for the new fc barcelona kit drop.

you'd caught the older girls eyes right away the moment you'd first spoke, alexia finding endless amusement in the way your thick northern accent came through in your spanish.

so with some light teasing throughout the shoot you were surprised when she'd asked if you wanted to grab dinner afterward, claiming that you'd not had a proper barcelona experience until you'd eaten at some of the best places it had to offer which alexia was glad to show you.

and the rest was a story you'd probably tell your grandkids one day.

"o podrías ayudar a tu familia a mejorar su español?" (or you could help your family work on their spanish) your girlfriend suggested with an innocent smile, which promptly dropped as you only continued to wordlessly glare at her.

"fine!" alexia huffed, throwing her hands up in defeat before crossing them over her chest, pouting up at you. "that's not going to work ale. go back to your game!" you nodded to the tv, turning around and heading toward the kitchen.

~

"cual es tu horario para mañana bonita?" (whats your schedule for tomorrow) your girlfriend asked with a stretch, joining you in the kitchen from her bedroom. "hermosa?" she called out again when you didn't answer.

"in english." you turned to her with a smile, leaning against the counter as you took a bite from your sandwich. "qué?" alexia frowned as you pulled yourself to sit on the counter. "english lessons ale. i will only respond when you speak in english!" you explained with a shrug, continuing to eat your sandwich.

"mierda. uh, what are your....jobs tomorrow?" the older girl managed to get out as you nodded encouragingly. "i have a shoot at two and another at five." you answered, your girlfriends understanding of english was fine as was yours of spanish, but it was her diction that she was often insecure about.

"what time is training tomorrow?" you asked, leaning over to place your empty plate in the sink. "training is at ten." alexia answered with a little more ease and you smiled.

"okay so now lets practice like you're talking with my family." you started, jumping down from the counter and moving to the living room, both you and alexia taking a seat on the sofa.

"how have you been?" "good." "okay, they're going to want to know more than that baby. what about football? speak about that." "okay. we have been training for the..." you watched as the blonde struggled to find the right words, huffing in frustration.

"champions league?" "si. sorry, yes. champions league. barcelona lost last time, we do not want that to happen again so we train hard, we try to win all our games." "good! see, you can do it ale." you nudged the older girl with your foot, sending her a soft smile of encouragement. "you will have to help me with your father." alexia chuckled as you agreed, your dads accent easily the thickest of your families with how fast he spoke alexia often struggled to understand what he was saying.

"your accent when you speak english is very cute baby." you grinned, watching on victoriously as a small blush coated the girls cheeks, a welcome change from her often sharp demeanor.

"ojalá pudiera decir lo mismo de tu nena española." (wish i could say the same about your spanish) the taller girl sent you a smile, hands tugging at your top to pull you closer to her. "hey!" you frowned in offence at the comment as you now sat practically in her lap, her long legs reclined down the sofa.

"should i say in english too?" alexia teased as you smacked her chest with a small pout.

"there are some things you like better when i say in spanish baby girl, no?" alexias tone shifted as her eyes roamed your features with a slightly darker gaze. your face heated up at what you knew she was insinuating, her hands gently sliding up and down your bare thighs.

"...maybe some things sound better in spanish."

[acewritesfics]

Mrs. Detective Jay Halstead | JAY HALSTEAD

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Request: from @/runnning-outof-time for a celebration from my main account.

Fic Type: Imagine

Warnings: Fluff. A little cringy PDA not from Jay and Reader. Reader has a younger half-sister named Annie (if that’s your name you can change it to something else) and Annie has a boyfriend called Daniel. Annie and Daniel are both 18.

Word Count: 1,438

JAY HALSTEAD MASTERLIST || TAG LIST SIGN-UP

As they sit across from her younger sister Annie and her boyfriend Daniel, who are clumsily making out, Y/N looks at Jay, embarrassed. Jay returns her gaze with the same expression, feeling exactly what his girlfriend and partner is feeling. Dinner had been going well, Y/N and Jay were getting to know Daniel well and both concluded that he seemed like a good kid. He seemed to really care for Annie. He talked to her respectfully, treated her nicely and didn't have any sort of criminal record - Jay had checked before the double date. 

It wasn't until the teens decided the middle of the restaurant, they are currently at would make a good make out spot when things took a turn becoming awkwardly uncomfortable for the older couple. 

Jay returns his attention to the younger couple and clears his throat, forcing the two teenagers to finally stop swapping spit. 

"Sorry," Annie apologizes awkwardly, her cheeks heating up as she looks down at her hands. Daniel beams as he takes one of Annie's hands in his. 

"Why did we agree to this again?" Jay whispers into Y/N's ear before kissing the side of her head.  

"It was something I agreed to. Like the sweetheart that you are, you went along with it," she also whispers. Looking at him, she sends him a quiet apology while placing her hand on his upper thigh and kisses his cheek. She knows she'll be making this up to him later. Jay needed a lot more persuasion than she did. Y/N returns her gaze to the teenagers and manages to smile. She intervenes just as the two teenagers lean in for another kiss. 

"So, Daniel, what are your plans after high school?" She inquires, making her feel more like a parent than a sister, as she did most of the time. 

Annie was the result of her father's affair with his then-23-year-old intern. Their father and the intern eloped the day after the divorce papers were signed by Y/N's mother, and they are still married to this day as far as she knows. Y/N has been raising Annie since she was seven years old, when her father and Annie's mother dropped her off with a bag of clothing and her favorite toy. The two L/N women hadn't heard from, spoken too, or seen them since.  

It took Y/N months to acquire full custody, but with the help of her mother and intelligence, particularly Jay, who became Y/N's partner a year after she won custody, she was able to raise Annie to be the wonderful young lady she is now. 

"I've decided to take a gap year. I'll be travelling with Annie and some of our friends," Daniel replies, hesitantly glancing between Y/N and Jay. He was clearly attempting to make a good impression on the two.  

"I did that as well," Y/N says, smiling, happy that Annie will have others with her. Her maternal instinct would rather the 18-year-old do her gap year in Chicago so she's close to home, but Annie had worked her ass off for this since she was 14 and saving what money she earned from babysitting the apartment complexes kids. Y/N knows she can't stop her and there would be no point in trying. She did lay down a few ground rules though. "It is the third best thing I've ever done." 

"What are the first two?" Annie wonders aloud, her attention drawn to her sister. 

"The first one is choosing to raise you," Y/N takes a sip from her drink, beaming proudly at her little sister, who was more like her daughter, before turning to Jay and smiling warmly at her partner of ten years and boyfriend of five years. "And the second is being more than just partners with this man." 

The two detectives began working for intelligence at the same time and were assigned as partners on their first day. It had taken them five years of walking around one other, attempting to ignore their feelings for one another that only seemed to grow stronger by the day. It only took a meeting in New York for the two to move from being work partners to also becoming partners in everything else. 

Jay lifts her hand away from his leg and presses a delicate kiss to the back of it. "I love you." 

"I love you too," she says, leaning in to kiss him. 

Returning their attention to the teenagers across from them, they see that the two have gone back to their making out session. 

"Do you think they'll notice if we leave?" Y/N ponders out loud. After dinner, Annie isn't going home with them. She and Daniel are going to see the latest superhero movie with some of their friends from school. 

"Honestly, I don't think they will," Jay answers, rising to his feet and withdrawing his wallet from his pocket, taking out some money and placing it on the table to pay for dinner. 

Y/N stands and circles the table, taking Jay's hand in hers as they leave the little restaurant and return to their apartment. 

Y/N closes and locks the door behind her as she follows Jay into their apartment. She walks into their bedroom to change into something more comfortable. She intended to spend the remainder of their night on the couch, curled up beside Jay, watching whatever horrible movie was on TV at the time. Jay walks up behind her as she is removing her earrings, wraps his arms around her waist and kisses her shoulder. 

"I'm sorry about Annie and Daniel," she mumbles as she leans back in his arms. There was no place she preferred to be more than in Jay's arms. 

"We were both 18 once," he reminds her, disregarding her apology.  

"I don't remember ever having dinner with my sister while making out with my boyfriend in front of her," she says. "They could have toned it down a lot." 

"It's new and exciting for them," he adds as he kisses her shoulder once again. 

"I know," she sighs as she looks at him in the mirror. "But I'm still sorry. How can I make it up to you?" 

"First and foremost, you must promise me that you will never agree to another double date with those two again," he states as he stares at her through the mirror. 

"I promise," she asserts. "You said first. Is there anything else I can do?" 

"Maybe you could, I don't know, spend the rest of your life with me as your husband?" he shrugs his shoulders, with an apprehensive look in his eyes. 

He takes a step back, and she quickly spins on her heel to face him, a surprised look on her face, "Are you finally asking me to marry you?" 

"I am," he says as he walks over to his dresser, opens the top drawer and reaches inside. 

He closes the drawer after pulling out the ring box and returns to her with the ring box open. "So, what do you think? Would you want to become Mrs. Jay Halstead?" 

She looks down at the ring seeing two smaller princess cut diamonds on either side of a beautiful oval cut diamond. It was simple but elegant and she loved it just as much as she loves him. She grins lovingly at him, barely holding her excitement as she accepts his proposal, tears welling up in her eyes. "How about Mrs. Detective Jay Halstead?" 

Jay's smile spreads from ear to ear as he takes the ring from the box, slides it on her finger, and pulls her into a passionate kiss. 

"Annie won't be home until tomorrow morning, which gives us plenty of time to celebrate," Y/N mentions as she breaks the kiss way too soon for Jay's liking. 

He chews his bottom lip and appears to be thinking about it as his fingers run up her back to the back of her neck before reaching for and pulling down the zip at the back of her dress. "Let's not waste any more time." 

She smiles, bringing him in for another kiss as she reaches up to unbutton his shirt and push it off his shoulders. His hands travel to the straps of her dress and slide them down her arms, allowing the dress to fall into a black pool on the floor before lifting her up and carrying her to their bed. 

"I love you, Detective Jay Halstead," she murmurs quietly, breaking the kiss to let them breathe for a moment. 

"And I love you, Mrs. Detective Jay Halstead," he chuckles, kissing her again. 

[wosowrites]

Mama and Mommy (Jill Roord x Reader)

warnings: none

a/n: i am so sorry that this took forever. also let’s pretend Jill has been with Wolfsburg for 6 years pls. I also had to add a twist for this to work and i couldn’t find the request again so some things may not be exact. I’m sorry abt that. based off this request:

prompt: in which Jill and reader have a secret child.

Having a child at 20 with your girlfriend of six month had never been the plan. You didn’t even like children. That is, until Rory came around. She was everything to you both. Technically, Rory was Jill’s goddaughter, but her biological mother had died giving birth to Rory. Rory’s father wasn’t in the picture, and neither was any other of Rory’s blood family. It all happened so fast, Jill lost her childhood best friend and then suddenly you had agreed to help take care of the baby girl with Jill. You had a child together.

You didn’t want to tell anyone about her due to the tough circumstances of her birth, as well as the fact as to keep Rory safe from her abusive biological father, no one could know about her.

So instead of hiding her completely, you told your teammates she was a friends daughter. Everyday you were in shock at how you had managed to raise such a beautiful, sweet girl together in secret. The timing was perfect, somehow. Jill was out for a year on injury, so she took care of Rory at home, and when you got back to your apartment from training, you would take Rory out to the park and let Jill rest.

Three years later, you had madrid Jill, and then on this day, you had a five year old.

Today was a game against Bayern. You were set to have a sitter come and take care of Rory, but an hour before you were supposed to leave, the sitter called and cancelled.

"What do we do? I mean we can’t leave her here! But we have no one to take care of her at the game." You panicked, pacing around the living room as Rory played with her toys on the carpet. "Y/n. Breathe. Please. I know what we need to do it’s just… it means we have to tell someone." Jill said, placing her hands on your waist and trying to calm you down. "But- but we can’t. Her father." You whispered to Jill. "She doesn’t have a father. He won’t find her. I promise you. Vivianne is at the game today. She’s travelling with Beth because of their ACL ruptures. We can tell them." Jill said.

Your eyes welled up and tears slipped down your cheeks. "We’ve always found a way, baby. On international break and during the world cup she stayed with my mom. It’s okay." Jill said.

It was true, other than you and Jill, Jill’s mum knew about your daughter, and she had always been amazing.

"Okay. I’ll call them and ask them to come over."

Thirty minutes later, you and Jill were in your wolfsburg kits and tracksuits, ready to leave for the game. Rory was sitting on your lap, playing with your hair as you held her. You had always been protective of Rory, scared she would get taken away.

A knock at the door pulled you out of your own head, and Jill opened it slowly. "Hey guys!" Viv said, hugging Jill and then looking over to you.

Her face fell in confusion as she saw Rory. "You guys babysitting again?" Beth asked, giving Jill a small hug.

The apartment was silent and felt cold. "She’s our daughter." You said out of nowhere.

There was silence in the apartment, broken by Beth. "Uhm. What do you mean… daughter?" Beth asked.

And then it was time for a story. You explained everything, Jill chipping in here and there, until you stopped talking.

"Okay then. That’s-" Viv seemed quite stunned, and a bit pale. "We called you here to ask you to take care of her during the game. The babysitter canceled and-" Jill started saying. "Yea! That’s a great idea. Right Viv?" Beth said, obviously trying to get her girlfriend out of her trance. "Yeah." She said, nodding slowly. "Come here, sweetie." Viv said.

Rory ran over to Viv and jumped into her arms, so Viv picked her up. "We really need to go, but we’ll see you guys after the game?" Jill said.

You kissed your daughter on the cheek, hugged Beth and Viv and then walked out of the apartment. "Oh and one more thing guys, do not tell anyone who she is."

It was the 88th minute when a penalty got awarded to Wolfsburg. Bayern was winning 2-1, and this was exactly what Wolfsburg needed. An equalizer.

Your captained Wolfsburg, and you tried to offer the ball to Lena, but she declined, telling you this was your time.

You struck it very well. It wasn’t a poor penalty, but sometimes keepers save it. The bayern keeper did well, and saved your shot.

That’s how the game ended, 2-1. A loss. You groaned in annoyance, pulling your jersey over your face and letting a few tears fall. You didn’t want Rory to see you cry but you were angry with yourself.

"You did great, my love. It happens." Jill said, putting her arm around you as you lowered your jersey and revealed wet cheeks and red eyes.

You walked on the pitch, clapping at the fans and soon saw that Viv and Beth had been let onto the field. They were running around with Rory and found a ball to pass with her. But Rory lost interest quickly as she came running to Jill. "Isn’t that your friends daughter or something? She’s like your kid." Lena laughed. "She’s not! She- I’m! I don’t have a kid." Jill stuttered as Rory ran around her.

"Mama! Mama! Why is mommy crying?" Rory asked.

Rory had broken the rule.

When she was a baby, it wasn’t a problem, but now that she was older, you and Jill had invented a game where around your teammates she got a special pass to call you by your first names. But from a little kid, what would you expect.

The Wolfsburg girls froze, all having heard the little girls words. "Why is she crying, mama?" Rory said again, tugging at Jill’s jersey.

Your face fell and you crouched down to Rory’s height, the little girl running towards you and jumping into your arms. "What does she mean by mama and mommy?" Alexandra asked, looking between the both of you.

You didn’t say anything, just cried silently into your daughters hair. Emotions were sky high, and you were tired and angry and disappointed and scared for your child. "You cannot tell anyone!" You whispered yelled. "Any of you. We didn’t say anything for a reason. We needed to keep her safe. Okay? So just… yeah we have a kid. Oh we’re also married." You said, handing your daughter over to your wife and storming into the tunnel. "Mama’s mad." Rory said, making some of the girls smile at her.

"Okay, Jill." Lena said, walking over to the dutch and her daughter. "Give me Rory and go talk to your… wife… apparently." Lena said. "You sure?"

"Yes. Go." Lena picked up the little girl, placing her on her hip. "You’re stinky." Rory said. "Thanks sweetheart."

Jill jogged into the tunnel where you were pacing up and down. "Baby…" she said gently. "He'll find her. He can’t find her! He can’t!" You sobbed, shaking as you walked. "Y/n." Jill said sternly, grabbing your arm gently and pulling you towards her. She wrapped her arms around you, putting a hand on the back of your head and holding it to the crook of her neck. "It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay." She said a couple of times. "The team knows now, they know. You know what that means? That girl is the most protected child in the world. She has the german captain protecting her and another 10 german girls. European finalists. She has Sveindís who’s probably the most loving person ever, she has Rebecka and if she has Rebecka then she has the whole swedish team. She’s also gonna have the entire netherlands squad with her. And she has Viv, so she has Arsenal. And if she has Arsenal she has Leah. And if-" Jill started saying. "She has England. I know." You laughed. "Yeah. And even if she didn’t have them, she has her mums. She has her mama and her mommy. And that’s all she needs." Jill said to you, rubbing her hand down your back. "You’re right. You’re right." You whispered. "I love you. And I love our daughter." You said, pulling away and kissing her.

"Let’s go back out." Jill said. She grabbed your hand and you guys walked out together, for once, you didn’t let go. You held on to her as you walked out of the tunnel and onto the pitch, and what you saw could have mad you start crying again. Rory was standing at the penalty mark, the ball in front of her and Merle in net. Rory ran up and hit the ball poorly, Merle faked a dramatic fall to the left as the ball rolled very slowly into the net. When the ball went over the line, Merle pretend to be mad as the whole team screamed and ran over to Rory, acting as though she had just scored the best goal ever. Rory laughed loudly, her young kid belly laugh filling the stadium. Lena picked her up and put her on her shoulders, celebrating with her.

Even after a loss, your team still had your back, and now, they would have your daughters.

[persefolli]

𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐

𝐏𝐭. 𝟏

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝? 𝐘𝐞𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐂𝐨-𝐩��𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

After the events at the tree of souls, you and your best friend moved to the edge of the village, secluded enough for no one to accidentally stumble over. Only Jake knew where you lived, and he visited at least 3 times a week to help both you and Mi’laa around the home.

He managed to hire a midwife from another clan, just to ensure that no one from the Omaticaya would harm you. Sadly, it was almost like you were on house arrest. You couldn’t go into the village, and if you needed some essentials you and Mi’laa would have to travel to another village.

“At least you have Jake.” Mi’laa comforted you one night. It was another one of those times you were regretting the exposure of the affair. You were big, swollen, and emotional. “I ruined my life!” You sobbed into your hands. Mi’laa frowned and rubbed your back, embracing you the best she could. Jake hadn’t stopped by yet, so this was especially scary. You got scared every once in a while, thinking he wouldn’t come back, or that he would regret his decision.

A few hours passed and you were fine, you continued on as if nothing happened. The midwife checked on you and the baby after your outburst, making sure everything was okay.

Jake swung by the very next day, having heard about your ‘incident’. He bent down in front of you, sighing and giving you somber eyes. “Do you want this Y/n?” He asked. You nodded. “I want this baby. I want you.” You declared, holding onto Jake's hands in a panic.

“It sounds like you’re having doubts.”

“Only because I'm scared.” You admitted. “I don’t want to go through this alone. You risked your position to be with me, but I don't want you to think you made  a mistake.” 

Jake smiled softly and placed a hand on your cheek. “Baby I'm all in. I told you that, and I told the entire clan that.” Jake made it a mission to visit you almost daily, even if it was for a short hour to take you on a walk. 

Then the big day came, the birth of your first son.  He came in the middle of the night, waking you out of your sleep with hot pains shooting through your body. Your cries woke up Mi’laa, who notified the midwife and went running back to the village to retrieve Jake.

“You have to breathe!” The midwife held your hand and pleaded with you. You held your eyes shut and held your breath, which felt like the only relief in the moment. You wanted to wait til Jake arrived to give birth, but boy was this baby coming. 

You let out a yell again, having no choice but to breathe again. “You can wait no longer. Please Y/n this isn't safe!’

You fought with yourself internally, thinking if this would be worth it. Jake already had a child with Neytiri, which means he’s experienced a birth before. But you were his mistress…or girlfriend now. You should've known you would give birth alone one way or another.

---

“Little boy!” You yelled across the room, looking over at your toddler who was on his hands and knees on the ground. “What’s in your mouth.”

The toddler looked at you dumbfounded before moving his lips in a munching motion, quickly turning his head from you. You swiftly ran over, getting on your knees and digging around in Lo’aks mouth.  The boy began to whine as you felt the item and pulled it from his mouth. Upon closer inspection, you noticed it was a pit of a peach, and you had no idea where it came from, and how he got his hands on it.

Lo’ak threw his head back and began crying, reaching and grabbing for the slobber coated fruit pit you had taken. “You know better.” You slightly scolded him. The toddler began to scream louder, at which you winced at. . 

“Aht! Aht! Hey Boy!” Jake cam walking in with a bag slung over his shoulder. Lo’ak jumped at his fathers voice and went silent. Jake walked over and picked up the toddler, dangling the boy right in front of him. “What you making all that noise for? Hm?” Lo’ak became distracted by his fingers, chewing on them and averting eye contact with his father. “Alright then.” Jake groaned, setting the toddler down, sliding over his Toruk toy to him.

“Mama,” He turned to look at you, softly smiling.

“Jake.” You responded with a smirk.

“Uh..I did something.” He walked back to the entrance of the pod and entered with a boy on his hip. You gasped, and looked at Jake with widened eyes.

“Jake!” Don’t tell me you kidnapped the boy!” You  placed your hand on your hips. He set Neteyam on the ground and allowed the toddler to roam around the room. “I had to. This was my only chance that Neytiri had her back turned.” He said. “He needs to see his brother.” He tried pleading his case. 

You held up your hands and sighed. “I’m not mad but…you know how she is about being around me. As a mother I don’t want to disrespect her.”

“As a father I need my kids to be together. No matter who their mothers are.” He said sternly.

“I know. But Neytiri still has power as Tsahik. I don’t want her punishing Lo’ak for something between the three of us.” 

Jake sighed, knowing you were right. “Fine. I’ll take him back after work tomorrow.” He said sadly.

You didn’t want to make Jake send his eldest son away, but again you didn’t want any conflict with Neytiri. She was nice enough to let you move back into the village, and after Lo’ak was born the village folk became more understanding. But as the lover of the Olo’eyktan there was still some strain in your personal life. 

You looked over at Lo’ak, who was looking up at Neteyam in curiosity. Neteyam held up his toy, which was a blue colored ikran. Lo’aks eyes brightened and he grabbed his Toruk toy, smashing it with the ikran. The two boys began playing, making loud explosion noises as they did so. 

You giggled watching the two boys play, mainly at your son. Lo’ak had given you a whole new meaning of life. Jake had made it in time to watch you hold your freshly exposed son for the first time. . You cried tears of joy, even grabbing Jake in disbelief that he was here. It might’ve been unhealthy but you became very attached to Lo’ak, and he did the same to you. Jake knew that Lo’ak was creating a better version of you, and he admired it. He never really forgave Neytiri, but he kept it cordial for the sake of Neteyam.

“What's for dinner?” Jake walked over to the pot and lifted the lid, looking at the stew inside. 

“Something oh so good.”

“MMMM.” Lo’ak said in response. The both of you laughed. Lo’ak was a picky eater, which you learned he got from Jake, so you had to discreetly add the foods he didn’t like into the meal so he could get the right nutrition.

“It’s almost ready, Jake go clean up. Lo Lo and Teyam go clean up.

---

The next morning you woke up alone, as Jake had some important duties to attend today. You rolled out of bed and walked to your son's room, where him and Neteyam laid asleep, sprawled across one another. You softly smiled at the two toddlers, and ran to the kitchen to cook some breakfast. 

Truth is you were anxious about Neytiri. No sane mother would go this long without her firstborn, because you knew for a fact that if it were Lo’ak you would be at Jakes within the hour. 

“Lo’ak!” You yelled out, beginning the daily 10 minute ritual it took to wake up your son. He slept heavily like his father even though he was only a baby. You plated the eggs you had quickly cooked, setting them on the table along with apple juice and leftover Yovo fruit you sliced earlier this week. 

“Lo Lo come eat.” You walked into the bedroom where the boys were still sleeping. You shook both of them softly, waking both of them. “Breakfast is at the table.” You rubbed the tops of their heads. The toddlers rubbed their eyes, blinking blankly at you. 

---

You took both Lo’ak and Neteyam to a small open space in the forest. It was Lo’aks favorite, since there was just enough going on to keep him occupied. No predators came in this area either, which made it easier for you to sit back while you were there.

You sat on the grassy ground, watching as Lo’ak sat criss cross grabbing at bugs in the grass. Neteyam brought his toy bow, and was practicing his aim with it. “Tighten your stomach!” You said to him. He looked back and shot you a smile, attempting to aim correctly again.

He shot his false arrow at a fish in the creek, hitting it, but not impaling it. 

You smiled at his enthusiasm and went back to looking at Lo’ak. Who was watching his brother in amusement. Neteyam took notice and came over, dripping his bow and picking up his Ikran toy, waving it in Lo’aks face to encourage him to play.

A rustle in the bushes had you shoot up in your spot, eyes darting right to the sudden movement.

To your surprise, it was Neytiri, walking through the bushes with a satchel. She looked well-rested, and calm.

“Neytiri.” You greeted. She gave Neteyam a quick glance and went walking over to you, sitting her bag down and sitting right next to you. She didn’t look at you, rather stared ahead at the two boys. The two of you sat in silence, only listening to the sounds of your two boys playing with their wooden toys.

“You know I didn’t panic when I noticed he was gone.” Neytiri started. “I knew Jake was the culprit.”

You turned to look at her but she still refused to look your way.

“I did want to come take him back….but then I thought….” She sighed. “He deserves to have a little brother.” She finally turned to look at you. “When I mated with Jake, I didn’t think our life would turn out like this, but it did.” She said with a deadpan face.

“I’m sorry Neytiri.”

“I made my peace. It’s okay.” She gave a short smile, one you didn’t expect. “I’ve never seen him so excited before.” She looked back towards the boys. “And Lo’ak is so beautiful. Perfect mix of you and Jake.” She complimented.

You smiled, looking back at the boy who looked eerily like his father. 

“It’s gonna take me some more time. But I want us all to be a family.” She proposed. “I don’t want my son to be raised in a broken household. I suppose you know how that feels as a mother.” 

You nodded. “I wanted to keep Lo’ak away from all of this.”

Neytiri grabbed your hand and squeezed. You accepted this small interaction as a truce, one that said that the worst was all over. The two of you sat in silence, comfortable with each other while your sons played in the distance. You didn't know what would happen in the future, but you knew things were gonna take a positive turn. 

[reversedanatomy]

Finding Peace: Chapter 4

Summary: Y/N goes to a new country

TW: swearing

Author's note: This is a much smaller chapter. I'm not super proud of the writing, but I'm studying for midterms and tests a lot this week and pretty much the rest of the term so I'm exhausted :(

Wanda texted you at three in the morning to let you know that she would be home at around seven.  It had been nearly a month since she had unexpectedly left for that work trip overseas. It saddened you that you had to work around her schedule, but you had your own life, work, and hobbies to preoccupy yourself. When you received that text, however, all of that sadness was pulled from your chest in a sigh of deep relief, and you felt nothing but the dancing of butterflies in your stomach.

Your excitement prevented you from falling back asleep. You were so lovesick for Wanda in your newfound relationship with her. Every time her name popped up as a notification on your phone, your eyes lit up and your heart fluttered. Sparks would shoot through your body and down your legs, tingling everything inside of you. It all made you feel real, wanted, and accepted.

When you heard the bells attached to your door handle jingle as the doorknob turned, you rolled over to your other side and squeezed your eyes shut. You had a reoccurring ritual when Wanda arrived home from her international work travels. You’d close your eyes, pretend you were asleep, and wait for Wanda to greet you lovingly in bed. It was silly and juvenile, but you loved the directed attention from your girlfriend.

You could hear Wanda trying her best to be quiet as she gently closed the door behind her. You heard her set a bag down by the entryway and slip off her boots. The heels of the boots bounced against the floor heavily, and you heard Wanda hush them. It was comedic the way she tried to reason with inanimate objects, and you couldn’t contain your smile. You then heard the closet door open as Wanda hung up her coat. Next, footsteps towards your door.

Your door was left slightly ajar. Your mother always taught you to leave the door open, at least slightly, in case there was a fire in the house and you needed a quick escape. Wanda liked this preparedness about you, so you started leaving your door open for her rather than a rare chance of an emergency. Your girlfriend gently creaked it open and stepped on her tip toes towards your bed. You could now smell the sweet cologne she always wore for you since that first date at the bar—lavender and vanilla.

At your bedside, you felt Wanda place a hand on the curve of your waist as she leaned in to kiss the side of your cheek. She then planted kisses down from your cheek onto your neck, collarbone, and finally the side of your waist. You felt warmth spread throughout your body, grounding every piece inside of you to respond to the safety of her presence. You pretendedly rolled onto your back and stretched your arms out above your head, slowly blinking your eyes open.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Wanda’s pupils dilated at the sight of you, and her contagious smile had you infected. A huge grin spread across your face, and you sharply pulled Wanda into you. The beautiful woman you got to call your girlfriend let out a giddy yelp as she fell across your body into your arms. Her body rolled across yours until she was settled beside you, her head resting perfectly in the nook of your arm.

“I missed you so much,” you rolled onto your side to face Wanda, letting your unoccupied hand fumble with her sweet-smelling auburn hair. Your hand trailed down to where you then caressed the smoothness of her cheek. You stared deeply into her eyes, studying how the sunlight peeking through the curtains revealed rings of different colors around her pupils.

“I’ve missed you, too, Y/N,” Wanda replied softly. “I can’t tell you how much I was thinking about you, how every day I prayed that that would be the day I could come home to this.” She felt like home. This all felt like home. You drew Wanda into your chest, and both of you fell asleep from the relief you two felt from being in each other’s arms.

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

You woke up. The interview with the office from Norway went better than you expected, and you were now hundreds of miles away from home on a plane heading towards a new country, new life. Darcy had come with you to the airport to say goodbye to you as you boarded the plane. You two shared an extended hug, and you left without looking back. If you looked back, you’d see Darcy crying. You couldn’t bear that guilt of leaving your best friend behind like that. Plus, if you looked back, she’d see you crying, too.

Your mom was hesitant about you leaving alone to a new country. You reassured her that this was much better than moving back home to work a job that would provide you no upwards mobility. She agreed, but she still worried for you. You let her know you’d call every day once you figured out how the time zone difference worked. She let out an exasperated sigh before letting you have your space to pack for the move.

It took nearly thirteen hours for you to arrive in Bergen, Norway. Once you landed, you didn’t hesitate to get up and stretch your legs. You felt all of the blood rush back into your body, followed by a painful tingling in your feet that felt like sharp ants crawling across you. When your body (and the plane attendants) permitted, you rushed eagerly out of the plane and made your way to get your bags.

You already felt different the second you stepped out of the airport and into the new country. Mountains stretched across the landscape for miles. The sky was a wonderful blue that complimented the greenery that decorated the earth. The air felt crisp, but reassuring. You previously checked your phone, where the weather report stated that snow would be coming tomorrow. It was best you got here today to prepare for a winter indoors.

You made your way to your new apartment after taking the Light Rail towards the center of Bergen. You were wary about renting an apartment without seeing it first, but you trusted the photos on the website and the realtor you spoke with. In USD, it was only $900 per month. With your new job, this would be easy to afford.

The new apartment was quaint and lovely. It had light wooden floors, an adorable kitchen, a bathroom with walls of white tile, and the most beautiful view of the city. The apartment was on a mountainside, and the windows overlooked the North Sea. You could see all the other houses that overlooked the sea, as well, and you wondered if they felt in as much awe as you did when walking through those apartment doors for the first time.

You had been undeniably nervous, bile churning in your stomach at the thought of leaving everything behind to come here. Now that you were moved in, however, the anxiety dissipated, leaving you with confidence that you had made the right choice. You set the rest of your things down and decided that you needed a break from the stress that came with moving. You packed your purse with your dictionary and a traveler’s guide to Bergen, and headed towards the first coffee shop you’d stumble upon.

It wasn’t long before you noticed a coffee shop with indoor plants stretching across the windows. There were several people already inside seated at barstools, sharing looks of enjoyment with their inviting conversations. You could smell the sweet aroma of coffee drive your body towards the door like a Tom and Jerry’s cartoon scene. It was your favorite scent, lavender and vanilla. While you had regrets about the origin of this favorite scent, you wanted to give this place a try.

With your limited Norwegian vocabulary and horrific Americanized accent, you ordered a latte and settled down at a table in the corner of the shop. You brought your dictionary out, and studied up on different terms that you could use for day-to-day use. You were going to work in an English-speaking office, but you realized soon you had no idea how to even ask for simple requests like, “where’s the bathroom?” or, “how the hell do I stop sounding like an American?”

While you were drinking what was probably the best coffee you’ve tasted in your life, you noticed a redheaded woman peeking up from her book at the table directly in front of yours. She was meeting your eyes with a small, amused smile. Oh, god, you thought to yourself. She probably overheard me trying to order in Norwegian and she’s judging the hell out of me right now. You didn’t want to think about it. Hey, at least you were being a good American and trying to learn the language of the country you were living in, right?

You returned to your dictionary, but you kept glancing up to see if the woman was still watching you. She was, and you felt your face grow hot with embarrassment as you felt yourself become an outsider. She must’ve noticed that she was making you uncomfortable, because the smile fell away from her face, and she set her book down in preparation to get up. She was cute, the type you’d call Darcy home about, but you were unbearably nervous about having any conversation with a Norwegian when you couldn’t speak the language yourself.

The redhead stepped towards you, letting out a welcoming smile. “Hey, I noticed-,” but before she could finish her sentence, you hurriedly packed your things into your purse and took one last sip of your coffee.

“I, uh, I don’t speak, I’m sorry,” you blurted out in broken Norwegian. You drew yourself up in a frenzy and rushed out of the door. Just like at the airport terminal, you didn’t look back. You knew you were flighty, and you recognized this, but you weren’t ready to talk yet. You decided it was better if you just waited until you were better at speaking the language before trying to hold a conversation.

You rushed home, but not before stopping in your tracks as you replayed what happened at the coffee shop over and over.

The redhead spoke English to you.

[yoongsisbae]

Gangnam Girlfriend: Korea’s #1 Celebrity Dating Show with your Host, International Super Star, Jin! 💕

Welcome to Gangnam Girlfriend! Where Korea’s top eligible singles fight for a chance at love!

You're supposed to be playing the dating game right? Not sneaking off in the middle of the night with the show’s host to watch the stars and talk about all your lost love connections, cuddling under a blanket. And even if the choice is clear, Kim Seokjin can't date you, the reason you joined is because you wanted a public relationship, and Jin could neverrr. Even though he wants to finally settle down! But Hybe wouldn't let him join as a contestant so he took the next best thing instead, our story's beloved host, yet now he's regretting his decision as he watches the girl he is starting to fall for fall for someone else, oh no!

Assistant producers: @daydreamer-writing @yoongii-ah @googiesbun (thank you girlies for helping me try to map this sh!t out ;-;)

***all characters are fictional, not real, made up, fake as fuck, f i c t i o n a l, characters / group names / all made up! don't come for me!!!***

Meet our Castmates!

💙 Leo, Guitarist and Singer

tall and slender, with a rockstar look that makes all his fans swoon

knows how to finger...pick

he's a mysterious quiet type that makes you just want to learn more about him!

But our contestants might have to fight for his attention…

💗 Jenzi from Girl's World

Our youngest contestant! She's adorable uwu

Bubbly and Beautiful

And just bleached her hair!

But does she have a wild streak? You’ll just have to find out!

💙 Siko, Rapper

He is...something else

An underground rapper whose been around the scene and is now trying to make a household name for himself, he has that impressive drive and determination that captures fans’ attention!

He can be pretty blunt, but that's just the hip hop life yo!

He is looking for a girl to elevate him, uplift him, be his Queen and baby girl

Cleans up niceeeee

💗 Sooyoung from Oopsie!

Our elegant beauty

THE Korean Beauty standardTM

The VisualTM member

She's here to prove she's more than just a pretty face!

💙 Alex from Heroes

Leader of his newly debuted group, he is fluent in English and Korean

He's traveled abroad, and knows how to have a good time

BIG HIMBO ENERGY

He is confident in many things, but his Korean is not one of them, oh no!

Will our lady contestants be able to look past the communication issues?

Will they be able to look past his muscles??

Will they want to?!

💗 Shin Bora from T1ME

Soft spoken and shy, awwww!

She’s the group's main dancer, but with those looks she might as well be the visual too!

athletic, with a competitive streak to boot, this girl came to W1N

💙 Suhwan from AXI

Our favorite idol has just come back from military duty and is looking to jump back into the dating game!

Can dance, sing, act, what can't he do?

A seasoned veteran in the entertainment industry, he catches everyone's attention

Calm and collected, the man is on top of his game

He is serious when he says he wants to find love

💗 Yuk Minji from Unpretty Rapstar

She came in third place on her infamous season of Unpretty Rapstar, but here she plans to come up on top!

She knows what she wants and she's gonna get it

She's confident, beautiful, and is willing to fight for love

This hip hop girl has surprises in store for you!

💙 Sangho from Atlaz

His feminine charm makes him stand out from the competition

This idol's long hair, bright eyes and slender face makes girls crush AND envy him

He is reserved at first glance, but is rumored to be a passionate lover, oooooh

💗 Y/N

Shit, are you really the oldest?

And the only foreigner, fuck...

Also, you're single AF

But it's okay, it's OKAY, listen, you're here to make a name for yourself

You're a foreign born actress in the Korean entertainment industry, which you have to admit, causes some type casting...

But that's why you're here! You're going to show the Korean public the real you!

If you can't find love here, you're sure you can convince the audience to love you instead!

Oh god, you really want a boyfriend tho...

💙 Lee, Actor and Model and soon to be idol?

He comes to stir things up!

Wait a minute, you know him!

Lee used to work with you!

But he looks so different now...

He looks so...hot!

Oh my god, why haven't you ever noticed it before?

💙 Kim Namjoon from BTS

Are the rumors true, is Kim Namjoon from BTS going to join our cast?! GASP.

[more cast members to come! 💕]

[sin-cognito]

Kustard week 2023 day 6: the Snow Queen

Wordcount: 1715

~A snowflake fell into the boy’s eye and he stopped seeing good in the world~

@kustardweek

READ ON AO3

Sans' breath puffed into the cold evening air as he listened to a voicemail from his best friend.

"you doing anything tonight, sansy?" Red's gruff voice asked in the message. "wanna hang out at my place or something? i uhh... could use some company. got dumped. again."

He had received the call earlier while grocery shopping, but his phone was on silent mode and he hadn't felt it buzz in his pocket. He was only now checking any new message as he was walking the last few steps to his house, when a raspy noise on his left caught his attention.

"sansy? is that you, or are you a motherfucking burglar?" Red drawled as he slouched over the fence that separated their front lawns.

Sans and Red were childhood friends, neighbors since birth and had spent their entire life together. The proximity of their houses added to the fact that they frequented the same schools and often ended up in the same class, meant that they were as close as could be and spent virtually all their time together growing up. Even now they would usually see each other every other day, or at least as often as their jobs allowed them to. Or Red's girlfriends allowed him to, though Sans guessed they wouldn't have to worry about that for the moment.

It would be a lie if Sans pretended not to be jealous of Red and his capacity to get a girl so easily. He just had a thing with flirting, and once he had his eyesockets locked on a victim, it usually only took a few days before Sans would see the edgy skeleton bring her home for a 'good time', as Red liked to say.

Meanwhile Sans couldn't flirt to save his own life, and as a result, he had only known celibacy his entire life. He didn't mind, he was still young and didn't want to rush. Having Red as a best friend and neighbor just made it painfully obvious how late of a bloomer he was.

Of course, it didn't help in finding a partner that he had a massive crush on Red. But as the feelings were one-sided, Sans had never bothered confessing and he was fine with the situation as long as he could still be in Red's life, even as just a friend. Sure, it would be nice if he could find someone else to move on from his attraction to Red, but that didn't seem to be on the program for the foreseeable future.

"yeah it's me," Sans replied to his friend as he balanced his grocery bags in one hand while getting his key out with the other. No one was home for the week, his father was traveling around the country with his brother to find a good university for Papyrus. The house would become much less lively without him there next year... "i was about to call you back. just give me a few minutes to put everything in the fridge and i'll keep you company." He added belatedly, "sorry about the breakup."

"dude, it's freezing out there, your fridge's probably warmer than outside," Red grumbled before wobbling awkwardly toward the entrance of the garden. Snow didn't agree with his cane. "leave your stuff there and come with me, it's not like it's gonna melt."

Sans sighed. Would it kill Red to be a little patient? "dude, can't you wait like, 5 minutes?"

"no," Red croaked out, playfully giving Sans the finger over his shoulder as he reached the gate. "come on, let's go."

Sans rolled his eyes and internally berated himself for being such an idiot. He did as Red told him to and placed the bags on the floor in front of the door, grabbing two nice creams before he jogged a little to catch up to Red, who was playing with his cane while waiting.

"i'm gonna grab your arm," Sans warned before doing so, like he always did when he was about to make contact with Red. The other almost didn't flinch.

Sans passed a nice cream to his friend and then the two started making their way to the park nearby. Despite only being early evening, the sky was already dark but clear enough that Sans couldn't help but glance up once in a while at the stars. Of course he made sure to check where Red was going first, to warn him about possible obstacles or patches of ice that the other's cane wouldn't be able to detect.

"she said i was an asshole," Red mumbled when he was done with the nice cream, playing with the stick.

"you are an asshole," Sans deadpanned, making Red snort and Sans smiled fondly, happy that his friend couldn't read his expression. He'd probably figure Sans' feelings out just from that smile alone.

"she said i was the reason we kept fighting, and i don't know, maybe that's true," Red continued, but his tone was significantly lighter than just moments ago. "why do i fight so much all the time with all my girlfriends?"

"like i said, you're an asshole," Sans couldn't help blurting out, and Red laughed out loud this time.

It was true, Red could be... too much, in many regards. Sans loved him anyway, he had grown up with the other so he was used to it and knew how to handle Red's grumpiness.

"if i really was an asshole, i'd point out that you're crazy for buying nice cream in the winter," Red playfully waved the stick approximately in front of Sans. "who even does that?"

They continued their banter until they reached the park. Sans found a nice place near the frozen lake, covered with freshly fallen snow and described the view to his friend, who hummed appreciatively. Then suddenly Red unhooked from Sans' arm and removed his jacket before laying it down on the snowy grass.

"red, what are you doing! you're going to catch a cold!" Sans warned him as Red sat down on his jacket, leaving just enough space for Sans to join him. They'd be sitting very close, but Sans would fit.

In lieu of a reply, Red waved his arm around until he found Sans' hand and pulled him down. Sans let himself drop on the floor and instinctively wrapped an arm around his friend to keep him warm.

"aah, sansy... why do i keep getting dumped? am i really so hopeless that no one wants to date me long term? okay, i'm an asshole, but am i really that bad? i can't help it if all the girls and guys i date always piss me off!"

Sans gently rubbed Red's back as he let him complain and vent his SOUL's out.

What could Sans say though, to lift up Red's spirits? He was nothing but a childhood friend who had followed Red's numerous dating adventures since adolescence. With no experience of his own, it wasn't like he could give Red any real advice... All he had were those dumb feelings for Red that lead him nowhere.

"maybe your personality isn't the issue," Sans finally tried. "maybe you just have poor taste and keep falling for people who aren't compatible with you?"

'like i fell for you', Sans thought bitterly.

Red sighed and let himself fall dramatically into Sans' arms. "you're so right, them bitches don't deserve to date me!" Sans chuckled at his friend's antics, but then the atmosphere suddenly turned serious when Red made no move to release Sans. "it would be so much easier if you would fall in love with me, sansy... you'd be so good for me and we've been friends for so long, we gotta be compatible, right?"

Sans' SOUL skipped a beat, and he was suddenly very glad for Red's blindness as he felt his cheeks grow very hot.

"what are you saying this time? stop the nonsense, you idiot," he almost said without his voice wavering. Almost.

Red noticed. He had to. His shark grin grew sharper and Sans wondered if that was how he got girls and guys so easily. No wonder.

"come on, sansy. fall in love with me," Red repeated, his tone making it clear it was just a joke, but Sans' brain didn't function properly in the cold.

"okay," he blurted out, and then warned Red, "i'm gonna kiss you."

Sans grabbed Red's collar and pulled him in for a kiss.

Their mouths made contact and the two stayed like that for a few moments, neither making any move to draw away. Sans didn't know what to think of Red's reaction, or lack thereof, at first.

Then a hand snaked behind Sans' skull and Red opened his mouth, his newly summoned tongue brushing against Sans' teeth, asking for entrance that was easily granted. Sans parted his teeth and Red's warmth, scent and taste invading him, a full-body shudder drawing a gasp out of him that Red drank up.

It was Sans' first kiss and he had no idea what he was doing. Thankfully, Red took control over the situation and guided Sans' tongue into running against his crimson appendage.

They went at it for much longer than Sans ever thought kisses could last, and by the time he had to break the kiss, he was completely out of air.

"uhh... i... uhm..." He panted, trying to find what to say, or more precisely how to word the billion questions that were running through his head at the speed of light.

What was that? Why did Red kiss him back? Why did it feel so good? Was Red into him? Were they going to kiss again?

"sans, you better tell me that this wasn't a pity kiss," Red interrupted his thoughts, his tone serious. "cause if that was just a kiss to cheer me up or to joke around, i'm gonna be seriously hurt. you can't toy with my feelings like that, man."

Sans blinked and searched Red's expression for any hint that he was pulling Sans' fibula.

"what feelings?" He asked dumbly.

"my crush for you, duh. the one i've been desperately trying to move on from with stupid one night stands and random girlfriends."

Huh.

So Red wasn't the only one to be a massive, oblivious idiot.

[queer-starwars-bracket]

Queer Star Wars Characters (Round 3): General Bracket Match 6

Kor Plouth | Identity: wlw | Meda: The High Republic Phase II

Kor Plouth was the Force-sensitive daughter of the Herald of the Path of the Open Hand. While most Force-sensitive children were abandoned in the nearby town, Kor’s parents decided to keep her. She grew up to believe fervently in the Path and suppressed her Force powers the best she could. She became the girlfriend of another Path member, Yana Ro. She tried to convince Kor to join her in leaving Path and traveling the galaxy. They both became members of the Children, a group of operatives that stole Force-artifacts for the Path. Kor desperately wanted her parents to approve of Yana, but because of Yana’s cynicism they didn’t in her lifetime. While she was a Children, Kor was still very compassionate and unlike her girlfriend didn’t approve of killing to complete their missions.

The Mother agreed that Yana could leave after doing one last mission for the Path. However this mission was a trap to kill all the surviving Children. As Kor died in Yana’s arms, she confessed that if Yana had asked, she would have left her family and all she’d ever known. After her death, Kor haunted Yana, and it’s unclear if it was a manifestation of Yana’s own mind and her survivor’s guilt or some aspect of her girlfriend that couldn’t dissolve into the Force.

Art by @isob_ell on twitter

Yané | Identity: wlw | Media: Queen’s Trilogy

Yané, born Suyan Higin, was a skilled weaver before being recruited to be one of Padmé’s handmaidens. In that role, she was the liaison with the palace staff and droids, but she also used her textile skills to replace Padmé’s dresses with lighter and more durable replicas. She and Saché were left behind when Padmé and the rest of the handmaidens fled the Invasion of Naboo and were placed in internment camps. Forced together, they realized that their awkward feelings around each other were mutual attraction. 

After Padmé’s term as queen, she married Saché and fostered many kids. This was her passion, while Saché joined the legislative assembly. She also made Padmé’s wedding dress, on short notice the night before, due to her professional insistence that Padmé got married in a proper dress. Unlike many of her fellow handmaidens, including her wife, she didn’t join the Amidalans after Padmé’s death, probably because of the children who needed her. 

[creator-from-hel]

And I'm carrying on with the chara designs with this one, more specific to Lysara : The queen of the Divine Mandate Lamia the Ist Frosilaen-Claro !

How her dynasty access the throne is

Complicated.

What to tell. That her mother had to step up as queen after the death of the royal lineage in place since the beginning of times ? That she was born of middle class Travellers and grew up in royalty months after ? That she probably had the most calm backstory of all the Queens ?

Let's start with a bit of history.

After Lina had to step up for the throne, she was promised a lifetime of peace and calm by bigger entities. Not gonna go into details, but that peace only lasted for 20 years and was

Not so peaceful.

However, Lamia grew up in a climate of tranquility in the palace since her mother was hellbent on preserving her children's upbringing. Her and her twin brother Korrin were sheltered from royal duties and had a happy childhood, Korrin being a silly prankster and Lamia a yet cunning but spoiled brat.

But everything changed when the fire nation- sorry, the principality of Lazzaro attacked. Lamia was around 20 (15 in the first version but I'll probably add years, makes more sense) for the infamous Four Nations Tournament and had a quick introduction to what it meant managing a kingdom. Especially succession, which was placed on Korrin by default since he had a girlfriend so could potentially produce heirs (spoiler alert, he's ace as hell)/default sexist line of throne.

Lamia basically had a buttload of charadev realising she had to take care of the people, the wars and avoid a massacre as the end of the tournament was. And since Korrin didn't even want to reign (and his girlfriend died), she became hellbent on reclaiming her place in the succession line.

She started studying politics, first in autodidact, then asking her mother to send her to Paper continent to study under the best politician she knew : Faloi Frosilaen, her cousin and first President of the Ink Republic. (Mother was reluctant because of paranoïa and a huge strain on her relationship with Faloi only she remembers. She ended up agreeing tho). She stayed there a long time, helping her cousin while studying and discovering quite the talent for politics.

She came back transformed and with lot of reform ideas, so much than a very impressed Lina started to delegate more and more tasks to her daughter, who basically became active queen like five years after her return. Including diplomacy and international treaties, making her go back to Ink Republic quite a bit.

Lina officialy abdicated right before her death but Lamia's succession was so well prepared that the crowning was one of the easiest and smoothest succession the Divine Mandate has ever seen.

She acquired the reputation of a stone-cold but caring queen, always seeing the hidden motive and managing to pass a huge number of reforms during her reign. She was the queen under who the technology skyrocketed, aided by treaties she made with Genos at a... difficult time for Faloi I must say (during Chifuniro Ecclesias, Genos' former Director's stay), and where the huge discrimination the Heir species was under calmed if not disappeared.

Overall, she is recognised as one of the best queens the Divine Mandate ever add, only after her mother, and her mother saved the whole world so it's hard to get on her level lmao

[doyelikehaggis]

Rowing the Rarepair Rowboat: Scirisaac | Isaac Lahey x Scott McCall x Kira Yukimura (Teen Wolf)

Requested by @a-lil-bi-furious

Someone's walking towards them. Kira's aware that she shouldn't be staring because they might think it's rude, and that's not really the best first impression. But she also can't stop staring.

For a heart-skipping moment, she considers the possibility that they're not actually friendly and are, in fact, about to attack. Then she reminds herself that they're right in the open surrounded by at least twenty other students who all chose to eat lunch/study outside just like them.

"Uh, do you know them?" she quietly asks, leaning into Scott on her right. After all, he seems to be the centre of the stranger's attention, his eyes focused intently on him with a growing anxiety.

Scott lifts his head from the paper he was intensely scrutinizing for errors before their next class; he's desperate to pull his grades back up for Senior Year, it's all he's talked about all summer. She's been doing her best to help out with weekend study sessions at their houses, but they usually turn into impromptu movie/cuddle nights, which is a little bit unhelpful, they've both realized.

To her surprise, Scott instantly disregards the paper, his full attention on the stranger. Or, not stranger, she guesses. Not according to the look on Scott's face as the two of them look at each other.

"Yeah," Scott breathes softly, like he can't believe this isn't something pulled from the depths of his deepest dreams. "Isaac. Remember, I told you about him? He's part of the pack."

"That's good to hear," Isaac says, finally reaching them. There's the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth, hands burrowing deeper into his pockets.

While clearly tall, the insecure hunch in his shoulders provides the image of a much smaller, perhaps lost child. Not quite the picture Kira built up of him in her mind from all of Scott's recounting. But little things jump out at her right away; the way his eyes reflect the rays of the sun with their golden flecks.

She had secretly felt envious when Scott said something along those lines, but she can't find it anywhere inside of her now, looking at him. Only understanding for why Scott's voice always held a sort of soft fondness to it whenever his name was mentioned in conversation.

Isaac shrugs, saying, "I had thought maybe moving halfway across the world sorta meant I wasn't part of it anymore."

Scott shakes his head. "It doesn't matter where you are, you will always be part of the pack. You should know that."

Then he's up off the bench and hugging him fiercely. Kira can't see Scott's face, pressed into Isaac's shoulder (nearly his chest), but she can imagine it's similar to the one of deep relief that is on Isaac's as he hugs him back.

While her stomach gives the tiniest of flip-flops at the sight of them embracing like long-ago parted lovers, she isn't jealous. More curious.

When Scott pulls back, he immediately turns to her and introduces them happily. "Isaac, this is Kira. My girlfriend."

She smiles up at him and sticks out her hand, then instantly regrets it, internally cringing at herself. To her further surprise, Isaac takes the offer and shakes her hand. His lips twitch up into a cute, lopsided little smile of amusement.

"Scott's told me so much about you!" Kira gushes. "I was hoping I would get to meet you at some point, but I'm not too keen on travelling -- I've done it a lot in my life already, and it would be nice to stay in one place for a few years, at least, so going to France was out of the question. And no one was really sure if you were actually still in France or not."

For a second, she worries she's scaring him off of her already, realizing they're still shaking hands. Well, they're not really shaking anymore, more just... holding hands. Which is worse.

Flushing furiously, she quickly retracts her own, glancing helplessly at Scott only to find him grinning down at her with that same soft fondness.

"Sit with us," Scott invites him, motioning across the table as he reclaims his spot on the bench beside Kira. "I'd love to catch up. Are you back for good?"

There's a hopefulness to the question and it doesn't seem to be lost on anyone. Isaac takes a deep breath, checks with Kira that she's okay with him joining them, to which she nods maybe a little too much, and slides onto the bench across from them.

"That's the plan," he confirms, fingers clasping on the table. He looks so poised, so put-together; Kira watches his eyes dart down to the table. "I can't believe I'm saying it, but I actually kind of want to graduate. I have a lot of catching up to do, obviously."

"We can help!" Kira jumps in, not even taking a single second to consult with even one of her better instincts. Impulse wins out every time.

Still, she may as well double down on it now. Looking to Scott, she says, "We're pretty much always studying these days anyways, right? We'd be more than happy to do it with you. Study. Study with you."

The heat of embarrassment under her skin is not getting better. It's a miracle that Scott and Isaac don't draw attention to it, not beyond another twitching smile from Isaac.

His eyes dart to Scott as he says, "That would be great. I would really appreciate that, if you really don't mind me, like, being a third wheel."

"I promise, you are not a third wheel," Scott says, then with a chuckle, adds, "You'll probably be helping us, to be honest."

"Yeah, you know what they say," Isaac says. "Three's better than one."

[warningsine]

The best-selling Korean writer Kim Hye-jin’s first novel to be translated into English, “Concerning My Daughter,” begins with an awkward question. Eating udon noodles with her mother, a 30-year-old daughter asks if she and her girlfriend, Lane, can move into the mother’s house. The daughter (who is only ever referred to by Lane’s nickname for her, “Green”) can’t afford a flat of her own because of her unpredictable work as an “itinerant” university lecturer. The mother — our narrator, also unnamed — agrees reluctantly, needing extra income to supplement what she earns caring for dementia patients. She also recognizes that her only daughter needs help, even if that means helping Lane too, whom the mother despises on principle because she is not a man. The mother wrestles with her disapproval of her daughter’s life choices both in private and with her patient Jen, a successful and well-traveled woman who never had children, and now has no family to care for her.

A middle-aged woman with an unglamorous job, the narrator is both scrutinizing (of her daughter) and scrutinized by a society that has not fulfilled its duty to support her. Kim plays close attention to the precariousness — bodily, financial, social — of not only the mother, but also her daughter and Jen. The lesbian daughter has been born into a generation with few job prospects; and Jen’s mind and body have deteriorated too much for her to take care of herself.

This is an admirably nuanced portrait of prejudice. The mother’s greatest anxiety is how other people will perceive her daughter, not only because she is socially conservative, but also because she fears her daughter will not have children, and will end up in old age in the same situation as Jen, with no one to visit or tend to her. Jamie Chang’s precise, pared-back translation conveys the mother’s internal struggle between her biases and her love for her daughter in a careful, balanced way, so that the reader is able to understand her position without being asked to endorse it. The mother understands that her outbursts are unacceptable (“How can you do this unless you’re out to make me suffer,” she asks her daughter, “you don’t care even the tiniest bit what your old mother thinks, now, do you?”), but she cannot prevent them. “My emotions carry me away to a place of no return,” she thinks. Wisely, Kim chooses to report rather than directly quote the mother’s worst homophobic tirade, against Lane. We learn only that the mother “let the words burn in the flames of disgust, resentment and hate.”

As the novel goes on, the daughter is badly injured at a protest against the firing of her university colleagues for their sexuality; and budget constraints at the nursing home lead the mother to bring Jen into her own home to see out the end of her life. The daughter’s vulnerability, combined with Lane’s tender care and the proximity of death, helps the mother start to see the errors in her thinking; but no promises are made. This is not a redemption story, nor does it aspire to be. The mother wants to be able to tell her daughter that she doesn’t care whether she likes men or women, that she believes her daughter and Lane should be treated with equal respect by society — but she doesn’t tell her these things. “Will the time come when I will be able to say these things out loud?” she wonders.

There is the occasional tendency to lay on too thickly the resonances between the mother’s relationships with Jen and with her daughter. “Am I seeing myself in her because I’ve given up hope of depending on my daughter in old age?” she asks herself about Jen. But it’s generally a tightly conceived and executed work, and one that boldly takes on the daunting task of humanizing someone whose prejudice has made her cruel.

[fanficmemes]

Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime/manga, books, movies or tv series)? And why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before.....Thanks...

Ohhhhh this is a fun question!!! This is not in order of how much I love them but simply in order of when I thought of them

Anakin (Star Wars) there’s something so wrong with him genuinely but he’s so pretty that I’m willing to jump in feet first

Agent whiskey (kingsman 2) HELLO COWBOY I’m really into this guy and his southern charm he makes me crazy fr I think we should get a movie where he just hangs out and rides horses

Joel thelastofus (the last of us) my sad man. My babygirl. My brother in arms, traveling companion, occupier of my thoughts. I wanna grab him and Ellie and bring them to our universe so they can catch a break for once

Ianthe (the locked tomb) okay she’s trying so hard to run this empire but god just had a breakup and the other intern lobotomized herself, she’s really having a terrible day. Wet rat of a woman. Evil but kinda bad at it. Can’t monologue for shit. Honestly in love with every woman in that series but she’s really fun to talk about

Zhu Chongba (she who became the sun) THE ABSOLUTE CHARACTER OF ALL TIME!!! She was like well my brother was supposed to have a great destiny but he died. Oh well too bad. I’m gonna become emperor now and also become this books one and only she/her non-binary lesbian

Ben Wyatt (parks and rec) he’s so me fr he’s just an uptight little man who loves his wife and is also autistic. Does not understand Pawnee and I think that’s for the best, I like that he pretends to like lil Sebastian tho

Simon + Patty (dinner in America) autistic girl x punk rock guy (also autistic lol) they’re like Bonnie and Clyde except there’s no murder only arson and the like. I think they should burn more shit tbh but I get it I get it

Pyrrha Dve (the locked tomb) yeah that’s right I’m bringing back this fandom to talk about the love of my life. Trapped in the body of her necromancer, living her life as best she can, and she still takes the time to love Nona. She’s a big butch lady who could throw me through a wall, she’s an emotional wreck, I feel so deeply about this women you have no idea

Alanna (song of the lioness) switched places w her twin brother so she could become a knight, hides as a boy for years, becomes the most badass knight in the kingdom and then she’s like well. Guess I’d better learn martial arts from my part time boytoy AND SHE DOES

Priya (the burning kingdoms) escaped death as a child just to see her people conquered and beaten, frees them from the empire just for her gods to come back and start possessing and killing people. She just wants to be with the love of her life, but duty has kept them apart. In another life she and her girlfriend get to live peacefully

[welidot]

Geeta Phogat

This Biography is about one of the best Professional Cricketer  of the world Geeta Phogat including her Height, weight, Age & Other Detail… Express info Real Name Geeta Phogat Nickname Not Known Profession Freestyle Wrestler Age (as in 2023) 34 Years old Physical Stats & More Info Height in centimeters- 162 cm in meters- 1.62 m in Feet Inches- 5’ 3½” Weight in Kilograms- 55 kg in Pounds- 121 lbs Eye Colour Black Hair Colour Black Wrestling of Geeta Phogat Category 55 kg freestyle International Debut Commonwealth Wrestling Championship in Jalandhar, Punjab (2009) Coach/Mentor Mahavir Singh Phogat (Father and coach) Records/Achievements • Won Gold medal in the 55 kg freestyle category at the 2010 Commonwealth Games. • First Indian woman wrestler to have qualified for the Olympics. Career Turning Point 2010 Commonwealth Games Personal Life of Geeta Phogat Date of Birth 15 December 1988 Birth Place Balali village, Haryana Zodiac sign/Sun sign Sagittarius Nationality Indian Hometown Balali village, Haryana School Not Known College MDU, Rohtak, Haryana Educational Qualifications Not Known Family Father- Mahavir Singh Phogat (Wrestler)Mother- Shobha KaurBrother- ModuSister- Babita Kumari (Westler), Sangita Phogat, Ritu Phogat Religion Hinduism Hobbies Travelling, Running Boys, Affairs and More Marital Status Married Affairs/Girlfriends Not Known Husband Pawan Kumar (Wrestler, m.2016-present) This Biography written by www.welidot.com Read the full article