#ava x reader

[fandomnerd9602]

I don’t know if you know about the tv show warrior nun. But may I request a Ava Silva x male ghost rider reader

Ava slices thru a demon as Y/N kills another with his chain whip…

Ava: that was so hot

Y/N: the move or my chains?

Ava: pick one.

Y/N: you’re terrible

Ava: you’ll have to set me straight back at base (winks)

A demon tries to attack only for both Ava and Y/N to kill it…

Ava: I had it

Y/N: and I had you last night

Ava playfully smacks Y/N for that…

[thatsgay-writes]

Jeremiah 29:13

Request: Beatrice x reader with the final fight against Adriel. (It kind of ended up being a slight Avatrice x Reader, Beatrice x Reader is already implied)

"Beatrice is going to kill us for this." Ava whispers to you as you enter the van behind her. You look back out of the van to see Beatrice conversing with Mother Superion. "We've already discussed this, I don't see a need to reopen discussion." Ava goes to respond but you cut her off, "You and Michael can't take Adriel down, or blow him up, if you have to worry about Lilith as well. And I already promised to stay as far away from any and all explosions as I can." Ava just grunted in response as Beatrice climbed into the van. "Everything all right?" She asked as she looked between you and Ava. "Everything is perfect." You say with a smile as you reach forwards to grab her hand.

---

The parking garage is loud as you and the rest of the nuns shoot at the guards. You peak your head out and send a few shots at the guards as Ava runs in to go Warrior Nun on them. You watch for a few seconds as you watch her phase through a wall to punch the guard on the other side before feeling a tug on your arm. You look back to see Michael and he gestures with his head towards the exit. You nod and start to follow him while making sure to keep an eye on the fight behind you. You lock eyes with Ava, who gives you a quick nod before phasing as Beatrice throws a knife threw her and into a guard. "That was so hot." You tell Michael, who rolls his eyes in response, as you both turn and start jogging towards your destination.

---

"She lied about it's location." Beatrice says with anger in her voice as they round the corner into a dead end, the arc no where to be seen. "Why would she do that?" Yasmine asks confused. Ava takes a deep breath before turning around, "Because we- I, I told her to." Yasmine looks towards Ava with a questioning gaze but Ava keeps her focus on Bea. "Because things change when you realize that not everything is about you... I'm sorry Bea." Beatrice can feel dread start to consumer her. "You said we, what do you mean we?" Ava sends her a pleading look, hoping that Beatrice would grasp what she meant and not force her to say it allowed. "No... I knew I should have been worried when Michael and Y/n disappeared after that first fight! We don't even know if your plan will work!" Dread and gut wrenching heartache consume Beatrice as she fully realizes what the three of you had planned. "You don't even know if it's going to work and your risking all your lives on a what if?" "Bea please-" "No I can't let you do this." Beatrice cuts Ava off as she grabs the crown from her belt holder. Ava reacts in kind but wrestling it back from her, both of them ending up chest to chest. The proximity causes Beatrice's breath to catch in her throat. "I asked for permission for this." Is all Ava says as she pulls Bea into a kiss that she'd been wanting to give her for the past few months. Ava pulls back when she needs to regain her breath and leaves a light kiss on Bea's forehead, "That one is from y/n... They... I..." Ava bites her lip nervously. "In the next." Is all she can manage to say before she phases through the floor.

---

"Nice of you to join us." Michael says as Ava phases through the floor. She doesn't respond and Michael looks at her concerned. "You okay?" Ava just nods in response and Michael sighs before looking for another way to get to the arc. Ava moves to follow but you grab her arm and pull her back into a tight hug. "Is she okay?" You ask as you pull away from the hug. Ava shrugs and gives you a sad smile. "She will be." You return the smile in the same fashion and tenderly kiss her forehead before pulling away. "C'mon, let's catch up with Michael."

---

"Stay behind me." Michael says as the three of you walk into the chamber. You pull out your sword as Michael starts his speech of justice and wonders deep into the room. "Where is Lilith?" You whisper to Ava the farther into the room you get. "I don't know she's suppose to be-" Ava response gets cut off as Lilith suddenly appears next to Michael and injures him before ripping his heart out. You stare at her with horror in your eyes as Ava lets out a sob. Lilith disappears again before reappearing behind Ava and scratching her across her back causing her to fall to her knees. She goes to grab Ava again but this time, finally, your ready and swing your sword towards her outstretched hand. That forces Lilith's gaze on to you and the next thing you know, your in the fight of your life.

"Come on y/n, you can do better than that." Lilith says with distaste as you lean against the wall, breathing labored due to either exhaustion or your injuries or both. You did not realize how hard it would be to fight someone who can teleport. "I'm not done yet." You say as you stand fully and swing wildly at Lilith, self preservation over ruling technique. "Pitiful." Lilith says as she cuts you again, causing you to collapse back against the wall. Lilith puts her hands under your arms and lifts you up over Ava and Adriel. "I want to give you a birds eye view of Adriel winning." Is all Lilith say as she holds you.

You watch as Adriel sends gusts of wind towards Ava and she allows them to push her back, until she's almost directly under you. Your breath catches in your throat as you see her head move slightly towards Michael and you realize she's still going to use his body to blow up Adriel. You also hear quiet footsteps behind you and you turn your head slightly to see Beatrice enter the room. Shit was about to go down. Is all you could think as you turn your head some to look at Lilith, who is still behind you holding you up. "You know what?" Lilith raises her eyebrow at you at the same time that the halo starts to glow on Ava's back. "Mary would be so disappointed in you." You tell her as you elbow her hard in the stomach, causing her to drop you. Lilith dives down to grab you again but Ava's already thrown a blast at Michael's body and Lilith teleports away to save herself instead. "NO!"

---

You remember a bright blue flash and now everything hurts. "Please, please, please." You hear whispered beside you as you slowly come to. "Ava, please stop. It won't work, y/n has never been connected to the Halo in the way that you and mother Superion have. You need to focus on healing what you can." You let out a grown of pain as you squint open your eyes. "Y/n! Can you hear me?" Beatrice asks as she places a hand on your cheek, ignoring the blood on her hands. "Bea? It's hard to breathe." Your eyes finally come into focus and you can see Beatrice and Ava over you, Beatrice clearly propping up your body against hers. "What were you thinking?" Comes from your right as Ava lets tears fall freely from her eyes. "We had a plan, you promised you would stay away from the explosion."

"I'm sorry but the world needs the warrior nun, besides who says warrior nuns always have to die young." You try to joke but it's lost behind a sharp breath as you feel your body temperature dropping every second. "But what about me... What about the both of us?" Ava responds as she and Beatrice share a look. "As much as I would want to have a deep conversation about the feelings that all three of us, now, clearly share. We need to get you up stairs and to Jillian or someone who can help you." Beatrice says as she tries to sit you up more but you stop her, "It hurts every time you move me, please let me enjoy my last moments in peace... With the two people I love." You say, knowing you would never get a chance ever again to express how you truly feel to Beatrice and Ava. Beatrice lets a sob slip through her lips at the confession and hangs her head against your shoulder. "Please, you've been with me since almost the beginning. I can't do this without you." "You've always been strong Beatrice and you wont be alone." You send Ava a small smile as you reach out and grab her hand. "This isn't fair. This wasn't supposed to happen." You drop Ava's hand and reach to cup her cheek, she has to lean down closer to you because you were losing your strength and couldn't reach all the way. "Don't think like that. I've done almost everything I've wanted to do in my life. You were given a second chance Ava, after 19 years of hell, you were given a chance to live. How could I let your throw that all away on the chance of killing a powerful demon."

"You could have at least given me a choice! Anything! A hint at your plans just something so I could have stopped-" You stop Ava by weakly tugging her down into a kiss. "Sorry I had to do that at least once." Ava just gives you a smile and goes back to holding your hand, he argument and anger dying out immediately. "Bea?" You ask as you turn your head towards your girlfriend, who had been silent. Bea just leans down to give you a kiss of her own and lets her forehead rest against yours. "I love you. I love you so much. Please." is all she repeats and you finally let yourself cry as you realize everything you'd be leaving behind, but it was too late now for any help and you couldn't feel anything except for Ava's hands in yours and Beatrice's tears falling onto your face. "Go back to Switzerland for me. I don't care if it's only for a week, just once all this is cleaned up, sprinkle my ashes in the lake we use to go to." "Of course." They both respond and you smile one last time before letting your body go limp in Beatrice's arms, missing the way both girls collapse into each other. Only for the rest of their friends to run in seconds later and witness two of the strongest people they know crumble.

---

Beatrice stares at the sword hanging on the wall, your sword. She reaches out and runs her fingers across the bible verse engraved in the sword, something every nun chooses when they first join. "Are you ready?" She hears behind her as Ava grabs her hand. "I got the car waiting outside." Beatrice quickly wipes away the last of her tears before turning around and nodding her head and giving the other girl a smile. "As ready as I'll ever be." They walk out of the church and see Mother Superion, Father Vincent, Camila, and Yasmine standing near the entrance. The group had known of the two girls departure as they had watched both of them distant themselves from things around the church. Beatrice, who usually trained the new recruits, had Camila replace for the last week and Ava didn't really leave her side. Well, neither, left each others side. As soon as the two girls get near, Camila launches herself at them and brings them into a group hug. No words are said as she pulls back, not so discreetly wiping her tears away, and lets everyone else hug them, except for Father Vincent. "We'll be back... Someday." Ava says to Mother Superion as she hugs her last. "I hope so." Is all she gets in response as she turns back to Beatrice, offering her hand and heading towards the exit. They place their bags in the trunk of the taxi before hopping into the back seat. "Where to?" The man driving asks. "The airport." Beatrice replies as Ava looks at her with a confused look. "Where are we going exactly Bea?" Beatrice gives her a smile as she lovingly squeezes the hand she's holding. "Anywhere, you have the whole world to see... And at some point Switzerland... For..." Beatrice falters for a second at the thought of you that crosses her mind. Ava squeezes her hand back for comfort. "Switzerland it is them."

---

John 14:27 (NASB)

Peace I leave you, my peace I give unto you; not as the world gives, do I give to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled, nor fearful.

Word Count: 2,164

[idiomaticpunk]

You are the reason - Lilith, Warrior Nun.

Sister Lilith x reader (she/her), no names used. request by @loaksmuntxa fluff, some spoilers but it does not follow perfectly the plot. 1,7K words. 

english isnt my first language!!

The bond you shared with Lilith was special.

Yes, she was clearly rude at first, and she still was, even with how close the two of you were. Both of you were “legacies”. Her family being the halo bearer for 6 generations before Ava took over, and yours being known to be the mighty-protector, the one who taught everything to the halo bearer. It may sound a little bit dumb, considering that they were the one bearing the halo, but it takes a lot: mentally and physically. But your little spanish family was known to have a pure heart. And all the women in your family were amazing at archery, so that did help. Naturally, both of your family were very close. You balanced Lilith’s family’s harsh nature, while she balanced with your too soft family. But being legacies had its problems. The pressure from both of your family was extremely intense and that may have contributed to Lilith’s downfall with Adriel. But anyways, you both bonded on that pressure, especially after Ava took over Lilith’s role and Beatrice kinda took over yours. 

Don’t get it wrong, Lilith and you still had that bond before the incident, when Shannon was still the Warrior Nun. She was training all day, all night, and you can’t count on your fingers all the times you had to stop her from throwing an umpteenth knife around 3 am. Your hands softly touching her shoulder, before resting on it, while she nearly jumped from the contact of your hot skin against her cold one. You coaxing her to go to bed with pleading eyes, desperately trying to make eye-contact with her. Because that “damm fucking bond”, made her unable to resist to your sleepy eyes begging her to go to sleep. But every time, you would make eye contact, because that’s what you were good at, and she would end up cuddled against you in bed. Lilith would never admit that she was cuddling with you. It was more of her fulfilling her legacy-halo-bearer-duty, of course. She would never admit that she liked those soft touches, your fingers tracing the contour of her face-bones, that would always lull her to sleep. Or that she loved counting the moles and soft marks on your face when she thought you were asleep. 

The bond you shared with Lilith was special, unique, soft, and intimate.

It all changed when she changed sides, obviously. You couldn’t deny it, it was hurting to see that woman whom you shared so many intimates and soft moments, trying to kill Ava. She had grown wings. And God, they were beautiful and you couldn’t stop looking at it when you saw them. It was impossible to hurt her, or even to try to hurt her. You were an amazing fighter, and you helped Lilith with her training for years. But throwing a knife or an arrow at her felt wrong. Maybe it was your mother speaking into your head. “God, I hate her mother, but please don’t embarrass us more by killing the one you were supposed to help.” Or maybe it was that bond, telling you this wasn’t YOUR Lilith. That she needed help. Killing Adriel was the only way. And you knew she needed help and wanted it. With those new powers, new abilities, she had the opportunity to kill you, more than one. But weirdly enough, her knives, her arrows, and everything that could hurt you always ended up a foot away from you. The bond was speaking, even in her corrupted mind. 

Then, she disappeared for a while, but you didn’t stop fighting. You had your place next to Ava, Beatrice and that weird guy they found, Miguel. Your family had been fighting for years against devils, and killing Adriel would definitely bring back the honor in your family. So here you were, next to the portal, bow in your hand, and with the most cold face you could have put on. Facing Adriel and Lilith, the girl whom you shared soft kisses, shyly, in the dark, after a rough day. Lilith, who looked more and more unrecognizable, suddenly pulled Miguel’s heart, who was actually Michael or whatever, out of his chest, destroying the divinium bomb plan. Rising your bow, you throw a first arrow at Adriel, and you pray for you, and Lilith, as the fight begins. Everything is such a blur. Camila crying in Adriel mind’s, as she tells you, Beatrice protecting Ava from Lilith, you end up limping, bleeding nearly everywhere, a hand holding your left flank, stumbling every now and there, near the arch, your other hand bearing a sword, trying to stab as better as you could Adriel. His laugh resonates inside your ringing ears. “Miserable human…Fighting to protect the life of such an unknown person…Ava does not deserve this…Look at you, poor creature, putting your life at risk for her. You nuns are really mad.” Swallowing the blood in your mouth, you raise the sword once again, and God knows how, you actually touch him. And with the coolest smirk, that was so much like Lilith’s, you answered him weakly. “I am not doing this for Ava. I’m not saving Ava, but Lilith! I’ll try for centuries if she needs me to!” 

He catches the end of your sword and throws it across the room, the shining weapon ending up into a wall. That ugly laugh gets to your ears again, and as you see him talk, Adriel raises his leg, and God, he’s going to push you in that fucking weird dimension. And God you were swearing like Lilith. Speaking of, a black ball comes towards you at lightning speed, and you realize it’s Lilith, who dropped Ava in the corner, coming towards you like a fury. When you lose your balance, your hair flies out of place, your hand leaves your side, and you turn your head, trying to make eye-contact one last time with your Lilith. Now questioning every bit of your sanity, you try to understand why you’re not dead yet, as Lilith’s burned arm holds you, just a little bit above the floor, as her other arm throws a kick at her “master”, punching him a few feet back. God, when has she become this muscular? Her arms weren’t this strong around your waist before. You didn’t know if you were hallucinating, dead, or alive, but you can hear the confusion in Adriel’s voice, and feel the stares of your sisters. “"Lilith, the supposed halo-bearer choosing that human over me, Adriel, when I have shown you the true world! I have given you wings, power, everything you needed to avenge yourself! You have shown your true colors and weakness by choosing love over loyalty. You will regret this betrayal as much as you will regret ever crossing me. I will make sure that you suffer for your treachery and that you never forget the price of betrayal."

Now, you were clearly hallucinating, your head spinning, ears ringing like there were bells in your head, vision becoming more and more blurry, but all you can do is focus on Lilith’s beautiful face, counting her eyelashes one last time as her arms hold your bleeding figure tighter. “You were about to take away the only person that I loved! The only person who loved me for who I was before you turned me into a monster! She means the world to me, miserable human or not! And me alive, you will not hurt her!” Rage echoes in her voice, and soft and cold tears falling on your cheeks are the last thing you can remember. 

Everything's a blur, foamy memory. Everything but the pain that rushes to your nervous system when you move an inch of your body. A strangle moan leaves your body, and the door flies open. You want to scream, to run, to hide or even to fight. But you make eye-contact. With her. And she walks, not flies to you in a scared manner;like you were about to run away or even to disappear if she blinked too slowly. A smile falls on your face, and Lilith’s smile mirrors yours, and she sits on the chair next to the hospital bed. “Do you really think, after all this, I want you to sit next to me? I’m not made of sugar. I know, we are in public, and things have changed… You take a deep breath, eyes filling with tears as she abruptly stands up to wipe them as they only start to fall. Damm her and fast reflexes, and damn the way she so easily reads into you. Lilith's dark pink lips shushes you, but you nod softly, too scared to move your neck as you continue speaking. And if you knew better, you’d think her eyes were watery too. But right now, I just need you to hold me. How you want, where you want. I know this isn’t usual, but God it was so scary Lilith! I thought I lost you!” 

And Lilith shushes you again, because she knew. She now knew what it felt like to nearly lose your most-loved one, and how scary it is. She settles to the edge of the bed, her long dark hair framing her face perfectly, and the nearly angel looking girl that she was, holds your hand as the other cups your face lovingly. Loving you was easy, you made it look like the easiest thing ever. She was ready to love you. It would take time for her to heal, for the both of you. Especially with the holy-war that was coming. But she would protect you. It was her legacy. Loving you never felt so easy when she realized. Bearing the halo or avenging herself were not her only reasons to live. You were the reason.

[greenorangevioletgrass]

tuesday in the park (a.d.)

pairing: divorced!art x reader

synopsis: your alone time at the park takes an interesting turn when a little girl breaks the quiet, but maybe... her dad is a good company.

warnings: language, smoking, mention of divorce, lily is an adorable lil oblivious cupid, sooo much tension tho, maybe smut in future parts? idk

notes: i am back and pathetic bitch boy art has officially given me a brainrot. this is also very self-indulgent and heavily based on my irl experience (except the fact that it's art, sadly) soooo... enjoy!

✨I do not have a taglist. Please follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notification to get the latest update on my fics✨

City parks are fucking depressing. Especially the industrial type that’s square, and covered in concrete and has, like, four trees. They’re all well-manicured and hung with string lights, but there’s still barely enough greens to call it a park. And to add insult to injury, a Tiffany’s installation art currently sits at the head of the park—a giant diamond ring in a lush velvet box the size of a Range Rover. It’s gaudy as shit, and the massive Aston Martin billboard overhead is an assault to the eyes. You honestly have no idea why you’re sitting here.

Oh, right. It’s like 2PM on a Tuesday afternoon in some downtown office area, so there’s nobody else there. You can just sit and smoke and watch the water spout from the ground in pretty patterns. The steady rhythm of the fountain jets quiets the chaos in your mind.

Inhale. Exhale. As the fountain hisses and ceases, hisses and ceases…

And then suddenly… another pattern.

A pitter-patter. Like little footsteps. Quick moving, and then it stops. Right to your left.

You turn your head and see a little girl sitting right next to you. Her white sneakers look so small next to yours. She pushes a lock of dark ringlets off of her face as she watches the floor fountain in quiet curiosity and awe.

It takes you a moment to realize you still had a cigarette in your hand. You quickly stub it out as far from her as you can. “Uh… hello.” You frown at your own words, but how the fuck do you talk to kids in this situation?!

But the kid looks up and smiles at you politely. “Hello.” she nods and then returns her gaze to the water bursting in canon.

You’re even more confused. She doesn’t even seem deterred by sitting next to a stranger—willingly, at that. “Well, are you… are you alone?” 

“No. With my dad,” she answers, light as a feather.

“Oh, good. Good.” You sigh in relief and look around for any sign of a parent, adult, anyone looking for a missing child. “Where’s your—”

“Lily! There you are!” A man’s voice cuts through the dull noise of the city. You turn around to see him rushing over to the little girl, grimacing apologetically at you. “Sorry. I’m not a negligent father, I swear. I just… turned around and this little monkey’s run off.”

The little girl—Lily, apparently— giggles as her dad throws her a look, gentle but firm. “You said we could watch the water fountains, Daddy!”

“Yeah, but don’t run off like that…” He rolls his eyes, though you notice his sharp jaw twitching with a hidden smile.  And then, leaning into Lily’s ear but still loud enough within your earshot, “And you certainly weren’t supposed to invade this nice lady’s personal space—”

“It’s no trouble. I was just sitting here,” you quickly wave him off.

“Daddy, can I play over there?” Lily points at the streaming water at the center of the park.

The man pulls a face. “I don’t know, Lil—”

“Come on, Daddy…” 

“No way.”

“Just for five minutes. Please?” She bats her eyelashes, and you can immediately tell it’s her father’s Achilles heel. Because as much as you try to stay out of the conversation, you can hear the audible sigh coming from him, followed by,

“Fine. Five minutes, okay?”

The little girl bolts off to the fountains, tiny hands reaching out to the jet streams, testing out how strong it is. Figuring out the fountain pattern and stepping on each jet right as it shuts off, one foot after the other. It makes you wish it was socially acceptable for adults to do that, too. 

“You’re free to sit and watch her from here, if you want.”

He looks at you, like really looks at you for the first time. At your rolled-up button-down, the chain around your neck with a pendant he can’t see under your collar. But mostly at your kind eyes—weathered, witnessed, but somehow not judging.

He pushes his short blond hair out of his face the same way the little girl does, and the similarity almost makes you laugh… if you weren’t so worried about making a fool of yourself in front of this handsome man. “You sure? I… didn’t want to intrude.”

You shake your head softly and scoot over on the steps, allowing him just enough space to sit down.

He notices the stubbed cigarette between your forefinger and middle finger. “You got another one on you?”

It takes you a beat to realize what he’s talking about. “Oh!” You reach for your pack of Camel, and offer it to him, one cigarette stick already pushed out for easier access.

He takes it with a polite smile, but then pauses upon realizing he has no lighter either. “Um, do you mind if I borrow—”

You lean in as he puts it between his lips, one hand cupping the light from the breeze, and his heart stops at how close you are. Close enough to notice the gloss on your lips. Close enough to get a faint whiff of your floral perfume.

(And unbeknownst to him, your heart stutters a little, too, and you hope he doesn’t notice the way you fumble lighting your own cigarette.)

“Thanks, um…” he trails off. 

You tell him your name, and he repeats it almost thoughtfully. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, like he’s chasing the taste of your name as it leaves his mouth.

He nods. “I’m Art.”

He does look like it. The navy blue sweater hangs just right on his broad shoulders, understated but high-quality. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing a sleek black Piguet around his wrist. A simplicity to complement his refined features. His bone structure is cut like the gods, but the permanent frown etched between his brows, casting a shadow over his deep-set eyes, tells you that he is facing the troubles of man. And the awkward way he’s holding his cigarette makes him look like a boy. Of course, you can’t say any of that to him, so you settle with,

“Nice to meet you, Art.”

He can’t remember the last time somebody said that to him and meant it. And right now, sitting in this concrete park alone, he can see no pretense coming from you. No ass-kissing, no sizing-up, just a genuine kind gesture of a stranger. And it makes him so fucking relieved. 

“So what brings you out here?”

“Work, actually. A meeting,” Art replies somewhat vaguely. He’s not really keen on divulging the details of sponsorship and endorsement deals. Not when you don’t seem to know who he is. “Lily saw the park from the window and insisted we check it out when we’re done.”

“Ah, does she normally tag along with you to work meetings?” You ask with a playful glint, although the unspoken question of his whole situation is well heard. “She should. She looks like a great negotiator. Just saying.”

He chuckles. “Maybe she should. My, uh…” Art stops himself before he could say ‘wife’ because Tashi isn’t that anymore. Not his wife because they aren’t married anymore; not his coach either, because he doesn’t play tennis anymore. “Lily’s mom and I take turns every other week.”

And there it is. Your lips pull up into a soft line, not quite a smile but a gesture of understanding. “Must be tough.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s a lot of changes. But she’s doing okay, I think…” Art pauses, “I hope.”

You follow his gaze and look at Lily, who must be playing some kind of Indiana Jones fantasy scenario with the water fountains. Not an ounce of care in the world. “She looks like a tough kid.”

“She is.” Art smiles bittersweetly. “Anyway, you didn’t come here to listen to my sob story. What brings you to this park?”

The air that pulls both of you in releases, and you lean back on your elbows against the concrete. “Oh, I just finished work and I… needed some air.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m an interpreter.”

His eyebrows shoot up in interest. “Like the Nicole Kidman movie?”

“Exactly.” You point your half-cigarette at him, and share a tentative smile with him.

“Do you do, like… high-profile, UN-related assassination investigations, too?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “It’s not nearly as cool in real life. Most of it’s pretty boring, like contract negotiations and focus group discussions…”

“But the stories you must’ve heard, right? Or do you just… zone out at some point?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes you end up shutting off your brain and go on autopilot.”

“But not today?”

You smile ruefully at him, and he knows the answer. You take a thoughtful puff of your cigarette. “It’s… a bit hard when they’re talking about… how they had to jump off of the ship and swim across the channel in the dead of night, because they would rather die in the open water—a couple of them did— than die working in the fishing vessel…”

“Fuck.”

“And I know it’s not really meant for me—they’re talking to my client sitting next to me. But when they look you in the eyes and speak to you…” you trail off, taking a long drag of your cigarette.

Art takes it as a cue for his cigarette, too, although he notices you tapping the ashes off one, two, three times. “Must be tough.”

You roll your eyes playfully at him for quoting your own words back to you. “Ah well, it pays the bills. Besides, I get to clock out at 2PM on a Tuesday and enjoy this…” you inhale through your teeth disdainfully, “beautiful, brutalist… Soviet-core park.”

He laughs, the real kind of laughter that throws his head back, and it warms your heart enough to laugh, too. “It’s bullshit, isn’t it?”

“It’s bullshit! And what the fuck is that horrendous giant ring doing here?” The two of you cackle over the installation art across the park. “And that billboard… it’s ridiculous.”

Art’s laughter dies down on his lips as he looks up at the billboard in question. The Aston Martin “Game Changers” campaign from last year. Fuck. Even when he’s completely separated from Tashi, her presence still looms over like a panopticon.

You turn to him with a smile still etched on your face, completely oblivious to the storm in his head. “What?”

But he looks ahead, too caught up in the hurricane to hear you. He just… looks up at the billboard, his face darkens.

Oh.

You feel silly for not putting two and two together—you’ve been staring at the billboard mindlessly for a good fifteen minutes, goddammit— so you tread very carefully. “That, uh… Lily’s mom?”

Art looks down on his lap, as if not daring to look at Tashi’s picture. Or at Lily, or at you. “Yeah.”

There’s no right word for it. There’s no coming back from this, nothing he can say can make this better, and he can’t help but kick himself for fucking up. What he is fucking up, he’s not entirely sure. But he’s not ready to end this conversation with you, not on such a weird note.

“I can’t imagine what it must be like…” because you can’t. Losing a spouse is hard enough, but to have it out there in the open…

“It’s tough,” he nods in confirmation, and you smile feebly at his attempt at a callback to your little inside joke. To the moment where things are fine, all things considered. 

If the air ebbed and flowed earlier, it must’ve just… froze now. You don’t even remember the cigarette in your hand until the ash falls onto your hand and you gasp at the sudden heat, putting it out on the ground.

“I’m sorry. I should get out of your hair—”

“Do you wanna get a drink some time?”

The question catches both of you off-guard, eyes blinking at each other in shock. He didn’t think he heard you right, and your mouth seems to work faster than the filter in your brain.

Your face runs hot, and you chuckle sheepishly. “Sorry. You probably don’t wanna hear that—”

“I do.” He’s not sure which question he’s answering. Maybe both? Definitely both.

“Oh! Um…”

And right in that moment, Lily comes padding over with squelching steps in her shoes, completely drenched but over the moon. “Daddy, Daddy, that was so much fun! Can we come back here? I see lights on the floor, and I think the fountain lights up at night!”

Art puts out his cigarette under his shoe, chuckling at his daughter,  “Baby, you’re soaked! Did you try to take a shower there or something?” immediately wringing water out of her hair.

“I’ll take a real shower when we get home.”

“Well, duh. But I don’t want you to catch a cold… come here.” He crosses his arm to grab the hem of his sweater and tug it over his head to put it on his daughter.

The girl looks thoroughly unamused as the clothing item falls halfway down her calves and the sleeves nearly touch the ground. “Daddy, this is ridiculous.”

You grin, and you can’t help but wonder how much of that sass came from Art. “Looks pretty chic to me.”

He nods at you, glad that you’re backing him up. “Thank you.” He then turns to Lily pointedly.

Lily half-smiles at you. “Thank you,” although she still isn’t quite convinced.

“I’m sorry, we really gotta go. But how do I, um…” he trails off. Gosh, he was hoping to do this out of Lily’s sight. Lily’s sight means Tashi’s sight, and he’s not ready for that talk just yet.

“Take my card.” You whip out a neat stainless steel case, and slides out a white-and-blue business card. Your name is printed in a sleek black font, right above ‘Interpreter’ in a smaller case. Your email and phone number follows.

His fingers brush against yours as he takes it, and he prays to God or whoever is up there that he doesn’t give anything away to you or Lily. Not a quirk, not a peep. Just two strangers connecting by chance.

“Thank you.” He nods evenly as he pockets the card, trying to contain the butterflies in his stomach—he’s always thought he was too old for that by now, but maybe… just maybe… “You have a nice day.”

“You, too.” You squint up at him under the sun, and then smile and wave at the little girl. “Bye, Lily.”

She waves at you as Art sweeps her up into his arms, and you don’t let yourself turn all the way around to watch them leave. Instead, with one final look at Art’s “Game Changers” billboard ad in the distance, you grab your pack of Camel and light another cigarette between your lips.

[its-avalon-08]

Could you write a story where the reader is an F1 reporter who gets along well with everyone? She’s a close friend, and everyone considers her like a “sister” (or maybe even more for some… I don’t know, let me be delulu here!) and when she gets pregnant, they all become super protective and take extra care of her. For example, if she’s struggling with the heat, they make sure she’s comfortable. Thank you!

golden child of the paddock (all drivers)

✦ pairing - all drivers x female!reader (platonic), carlos sainz x female!driver (non platonic)

✦ genre - protective drivers, romance

The first time Y/N stepped into the F1 paddock as a young, starry-eyed reporter, she felt a blend of excitement and nerves. She was new to the sport, young, and a little out of her depth, but she knew her passion for racing and her natural curiosity would be enough to keep her going. Still, when she looked around at the towering motorhomes, the thrumming of engines, and the throng of seasoned journalists, it was hard not to feel like she was in over her head.

"First day on the job?" a voice came from her side. She turned to see none other than Daniel Ricciardo, grinning with that trademark mischievous smile. He’d noticed her as she was nervously adjusting her press badge.

"Uh, yeah," she admitted, trying to sound more confident than she felt. "Guess it's pretty obvious."

Daniel laughed and gave her a friendly nudge. "You’ll be fine. Just stick around us drivers; we’re way more fun than those old journos anyway."

Just then, a few other drivers came over, drawn by the new face in the crowd. Lando Norris was quick to introduce himself, already full of playful questions.

"So, Y/N, are you here to keep an eye on me?" he teased, giving her a wink. "Because, let’s be honest, I’m the only interesting one on the grid."

"Right," Y/N said, unable to help the laugh that escaped. "I’ll try to keep my focus on you, Lando."

Max Verstappen raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "Good luck with that. But hey, if you ever want the real story, you know who to ask."

Y/N quickly felt herself relaxing as the drivers bantered with her, making her feel more at home. Soon, the entire paddock was buzzing with news of the young, friendly reporter. And the drivers? Well, they seemed determined to keep her close.

Over the next few weeks, Y/N found herself almost part of the F1 family. She’d interview the drivers in the press pen, and somehow, every single one of them found a way to add a bit of personal advice or a subtle check-in.

"Did you eat today?" Lewis Hamilton asked her once, holding out an extra protein bar during a post-practice interview.

"Oh, I… yeah, I grabbed something earlier," she stammered, a little caught off guard.

He nodded, handing her the bar anyway. "You’re going to need the energy. Trust me. This job doesn’t slow down."

Even Sebastian Vettel would occasionally pause to check in on her. Once, he found her frowning at her notes during a practice session. "Don’t worry too much about getting every detail perfect, Y/N," he said kindly. "You’re doing great. Just be yourself—that’s what people connect with."

"Thanks, Seb," she said, feeling a bit of relief wash over her. "I guess I’m just… I don’t want to mess up."

Seb gave her a reassuring smile. "You won’t. Just remember, we’re all here to help if you need it."

Then, there was Carlos Sainz. Unlike the others, his way of protecting her was a bit more… personal. The first time she interviewed him, he was warm and polite, but as the weeks passed, his demeanor shifted ever so slightly. He’d always look at her with this glint in his eye, his smile lingering a second longer than necessary.

"Amor," he greeted her one morning, his Spanish accent adding a warmth to the word that made her cheeks heat up. "You’re looking stressed. Are they working you too hard?"

She blinked, feeling a little flustered. "Carlos, I’m fine, really. Just part of the job."

Carlos tilted his head, giving her a small, teasing smile. "Maybe. But if you need a break, you let me know, sí? Can’t have you running around too much."

The way he looked at her, the gentle tone of his voice, and the pet names—amor, cariño—all of it made her feel a little thrill each time they spoke.

As the season continued, it became clear to everyone in the paddock that Y/N was something special. Not just another reporter but someone who cared about them, respected them, and brought a certain brightness with her wherever she went. And as they got closer, the drivers each took on their own version of ‘big brother’ with her.

One afternoon, she was struggling with some heavy equipment when Pierre Gasly spotted her and practically sprinted over.

"Whoa, whoa, no way, Y/N. We’re not doing this," he said, taking the bag off her shoulder. "You’re not carrying anything if we’re around, okay?"

"Pierre, I can handle it, seriously," she tried to argue, but Pierre just shook his head.

"Not happening. You’re stuck with all of us now, so get used to it."

She had barely gotten over Pierre’s chivalrous intervention when she felt someone tap her shoulder. Turning around, she found Charles Leclerc standing with a concerned frown.

"Y/N, I saw you trip on the stairs earlier. You didn’t hurt yourself, right?"

She laughed, brushing it off. "I’m fine, Charles. Just a little stumble."

He crossed his arms, clearly not convinced. "Alright, well, just… watch your step, okay?"

Everywhere she went, there seemed to be a driver looking out for her. They’d bring her water bottles when it was hot, extra snacks when she looked tired, and Carlos, of course, was always there to check on her, calling her mi vida and making sure she never felt alone.

One evening, after a particularly long day, Carlos found her sitting on a low wall by the track, staring out over the circuit, lost in thought.

"Mind if I join you, cariño?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Not at all," she smiled as he sat beside her.

They sat in companionable silence for a while before Carlos spoke. "You know, everyone here thinks of you as a sister."

Y/N laughed. "Yeah, I’ve noticed. I can’t even carry my own things anymore!"

Carlos chuckled, his fingers brushing her arm. "It’s because we care about you. And some of us…" He paused, his gaze turning serious. "Some of us more than others."

Her heart skipped a beat as she looked at him. "Carlos…"

He gave her a shy smile, something rare for the usually confident driver. "I just want you to know, Y/N. You’re not alone here."

She nodded, a soft blush spreading across her cheeks. "I know. Thanks, Carlos."

Just then, Max passed by, smirking. "Hey, Carlos, not hogging Y/N, are we?"

Carlos shot him a look. "Can’t a man have a moment, Max?"

Max grinned, winking at Y/N. "Don’t worry, Y/N. If he’s bothering you, just let us know."

As Max walked off, Carlos rolled his eyes, but his hand found hers, squeezing gently. "They’ll never leave you alone now, mi amor. Better get used to us all."

Y/N smiled, looking out over the track, feeling for the first time that she truly belonged. Surrounded by a family of drivers, each one ready to support, protect, and care for her, she knew this would be the beginning of something wonderful.

--

It was the last night of the race weekend, and the paddock was almost deserted. Only a few lights remained on, casting a soft glow over the empty garages and tents. Y/N lingered by the trackside, her heart racing in her chest. She had made up her mind—she couldn’t keep pretending she didn’t feel anything for Carlos. But she didn’t think she’d be standing here, ready to confess her feelings in such a big way.

"You got this, Y/N," Lando said, giving her a little nudge of encouragement. The rest of the drivers had banded together, helping her plot the perfect confession for the man who had her heart.

"But what if he… I don’t know, laughs?" Y/N wrung her hands nervously, feeling her cheeks flush. "What if he doesn’t feel the same way?"

"Then he’s an idiot," Pierre chimed in with a grin, his arm around her shoulder. "But trust me, he’s not that dumb. I mean, he calls you cariño every day. I’m pretty sure he’s already halfway in love with you."

Sebastian, who had come along to witness the moment, chuckled. "You’ve grown up so fast, Y/N. Look at you—confessing your feelings like a true professional."

"Just… be yourself," Charles added, giving her an encouraging smile. "Carlos would be lucky to have you."

"Really?" she whispered, looking at her friends with wide eyes. They all nodded emphatically, giving her the strength she needed to take the leap.

As she waited, Y/N glanced back at her team of ‘brothers,’ who were hiding in the shadows with poorly concealed excitement. George and Alex were practically bouncing on their toes, and even Max was grinning.

Finally, she saw Carlos walking towards her, his hair still a little messy from the day, his eyes bright despite the late hour. "Y/N?" he asked, his brows raised in surprise. "What’s going on?"

She took a deep breath, willing herself not to lose her nerve. "Carlos, there’s something I need to tell you. And, um… please just listen, okay? Don’t say anything until I’m finished."

Carlos’s smile softened as he nodded. "Of course, mi vida."

"Right, okay…" She took another breath, staring at the ground, feeling her heart pounding against her ribs. "So, ever since I started here, you’ve… you’ve been one of the best parts of my job. The way you tease me, how you’re always looking out for me, calling me all those sweet names…" She laughed, slightly embarrassed. "At first, I thought it was just you being nice. But then… I realized it’s more than that for me. I… I really like you, Carlos. A lot."

There was a soft gasp from somewhere behind her, probably Lando, but Y/N kept her eyes on Carlos, who looked utterly stunned.

"I just couldn’t go on pretending I didn’t feel this way," she continued, her voice trembling. "And if you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. I just… I needed you to know."

Carlos took a step closer, his gaze intense, and she could see a flicker of emotion in his eyes that made her heart swell. "Y/N," he murmured, reaching for her hands. "You have no idea how much I wanted to hear you say that. I was so sure… so sure you only saw me as a friend."

Her cheeks flushed a deep red. "Carlos, I’ve had the biggest crush on you for months. You call me cariño, amor—it’s impossible not to fall for you."

He laughed softly, pulling her closer. "Well, in that case, let me say it properly." His voice softened, his gaze never leaving hers. "Te quiero, Y/N. I want you, too."

A mix of squeals and cheers erupted from the shadows as the other drivers stepped out, clapping and wiping away mock tears.

"Finally!" Daniel shouted, throwing his hands up dramatically. "Our little Y/N is all grown up!"

George pretended to dab at his eyes. "I’m not crying… it’s just… allergies."

Pierre gave her an affectionate grin, giving Carlos a nod of approval. "You better take care of her, Sainz."

Carlos laughed, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s waist, pulling her into his side. "Don’t worry. I’ll treat her like the queen she deserves to be."

Max crossed his arms, his smile warm. "Good answer, mate. We’ve been waiting for this moment forever."

Y/N looked around at her friends, her cheeks sore from smiling. "Thank you, all of you. I couldn’t have done it without you."

Sebastian raised a pretend glass, grinning. "To Y/N and Carlos. And to all the big brothers who made this night possible."

Lando cleared his throat, looking almost sentimental as he pulled her into a quick hug. "We’re really happy for you, Y/N. But remember, if Carlos gives you any trouble, we’ll be right here."

Carlos chuckled, looking down at her with a playful smirk. "I think I have more to worry about than you do, cariño. With all these guys watching out for you, I’ll have to be on my best behavior."

"And that," Y/N said, squeezing his hand, "is exactly how I want it."

Surrounded by her friends—her family—she felt an overwhelming wave of happiness wash over her. As she looked up at Carlos, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the warmth of his gaze and the knowledge that she was exactly where she belonged.

--

A few years down the road, Y/N had cemented her place as the paddock’s heart and soul. Fans adored her interviews, and the teams always lit up when she was around. Being married to Carlos only added to the love everyone felt for her, and for Carlos, it made him proud—and fiercely protective.

The first few months of her pregnancy, however, had been kept tightly under wraps. Only she and Carlos knew, and they were still basking in the news in secret. But now, as she tried to hide her growing morning sickness and Carlos’s over-attentive concern, things were getting harder to keep quiet.

One morning in the paddock, Max Verstappen happened to pass by and saw Y/N doubled over, looking pale as she sat on a crate outside the Red Bull garage.

"Hey, Y/N, you okay?" Max asked, concerned, immediately handing her his water bottle. "You don’t look too great."

Y/N tried to wave him off with a weak smile. "Oh, it’s nothing, Max, I just… I think it was something I ate."

"Something you ate?" he repeated, narrowing his eyes. "You’ve been saying that a lot lately."

"Just bad luck, I guess," she said, but the nausea hit her again, and she had to lean over to steady herself.

Max’s eyes widened, and his jaw dropped as he pieced it together. "No way. No way. Y/N—are you…"

Y/N’s face flushed, but she couldn’t deny it, her weak smile giving her away.

"Oh my god." Max’s mouth fell open as he processed it. "Carlos got you pregnant?!"

“Shh!” Y/N whispered, glancing around in a panic. "Max, keep it down! We’re not telling people yet!"

Max clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes filling with tears. "Oh my god. Y/N, you’re pregnant." He blinked rapidly, his lips quivering as he tried to hold it together. "You’re gonna have a little Sainz?"

She bit her lip and nodded, smiling softly. “Yes. But you can’t tell anyone yet.”

Max was silent for a moment, his eyes shimmering. Then he let out a choked laugh and pulled her into a gentle hug, whispering, “I’m so happy for you. You’re gonna be the best mom, Y/N. I can already see it.”

Y/N laughed as he let her go, but not before he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Stop crying, Max,” she teased. “You’re making me want to cry, too!”

“I can’t help it,” he sniffled, looking sheepish. “This is huge! And now I have to protect you and the baby?”

“You don’t have to,” she laughed, but Max was already shaking his head.

“No, no, you don’t understand. I’m not letting you lift a finger,” he said, his face suddenly serious. “And I’m making sure Carlos does the same. You’ll have every single driver looking out for you.”

Just then, Carlos approached, his brow furrowing as he saw Max wiping at his eyes. “Max, what’s going on?”

Max pointed a stern finger at Carlos. “You, Sainz, have one job. You better take care of her and the little one. Or else…”

Carlos raised his hands, amused but wary. “I am taking care of her, Verstappen. Trust me.”

“No, not enough!” Max argued, his voice almost panicked. “She was just sitting here, pale as a ghost, and you weren’t even around!”

Y/N stifled a laugh, but Carlos just smirked, nodding in understanding. “Alright, alright, I’ll keep an even closer eye on her. Promise.”

Max softened a bit, but he wasn’t letting up. “Good. Because if anything happens to Y/N or the baby, anything, you’re answering to me. And Lando, and Pierre, and basically every guy in this paddock who cares about her.”

“Max, I think Carlos knows what he’s doing,” Y/N said, a smile playing on her lips.

Max looked between them, then grinned, his face softening. “Fine, but I’m still watching you both.” He took a deep breath, then pulled her into another hug. “I’m so, so happy for you, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Max,” she whispered, hugging him back. “I think we’ll need you and the others looking out for us.”

Carlos wrapped an arm around her shoulder, giving Max a nod of gratitude. “Gracias, amigo. She’ll have all the protection she needs.”

“Good.” Max wiped his eyes one last time, giving them both a fierce nod. “Because we’re all family. And now… we’re growing.”

--

The Singapore Grand Prix was notorious for its blistering heat, and this year was no exception. The sweltering air clung to everyone, and for Y/N, who was visibly and heavily pregnant, it was nearly unbearable. But duty called, and the FIA insisted that she continue her scheduled interviews.

As she was setting up for another interview, the heat making her dizzy, she heard a familiar voice behind her. “Y/N, what are you doing here?” Lewis Hamilton approached her with a look of disbelief, glancing at her with concern. “You should be sitting in an air-conditioned room right now, not out here in this heat.”

“Lewis, it’s fine,” she said with a weak smile, though she was struggling. “It’s just a few interviews.”

Before he could respond, Max and Oscar joined them, both looking equally shocked.

“Are they out of their minds?” Max muttered, his face turning red with anger. “You shouldn’t be out here like this!”

“Seriously, Y/N,” Oscar added, frowning. “This isn’t safe. You’re not a machine.”

Y/N tried to brush them off, but she felt another wave of dizziness hit her. She steadied herself, but Charles had already noticed, his eyes narrowing. “That’s it,” he said firmly. “This is ridiculous. They can’t make you do this.”

“It’s okay, really—” she began, but the drivers were not having it.

Lewis crossed his arms, looking around with a sharp glare. “Who do we need to talk to? This isn’t happening, not today.”

As if on cue, a member of the FIA walked over, clipboard in hand. “Y/N, are we ready for the next interview?”

Max stepped in front of her before she could answer, his voice low and menacing. “She’s not doing any more interviews. Send someone else.”

The official frowned, clearly taken aback. “Excuse me? This is her job—”

“Yeah, and her job shouldn’t put her or her baby in danger,” Charles interjected angrily. “She’s done for the day.”

Oscar nodded in agreement. “Get someone else. This isn’t up for discussion.”

The FIA official looked bewildered, glancing at Y/N, but Lewis shot him a glare that would have stopped anyone in their tracks. “You have plenty of other reporters. Don’t make us get security involved.”

Seeing no way around it, the official nodded reluctantly. “Fine. She can go. But this will be reported.”

The drivers didn’t care; they were already surrounding Y/N protectively, guiding her towards the paddock lounge.

“Thank you, guys,” she murmured, touched by their concern. “But I can handle this, really—”

“No way,” Max cut her off, shaking his head. “Carlos would kill us if we let you stay out there in this heat.”

As they led her to the lounge, Carlos appeared, having just gotten word of what happened. His expression was a mix of relief and anger as he approached the group. “Qué demonios? Y/N, why didn’t you call me?”

Y/N shrugged, looking sheepish. “I didn’t want to bother you…”

Carlos looked ready to explode, turning to the FIA official who had followed them, probably to try and salvage the situation. “You made her work out there, in this heat, while she’s pregnant? Are you insane?”

The official held up his hands defensively. “We were just following standard protocol—”

“To hell with your protocol!” Carlos shouted, his face flushed with anger. “She’s carrying our child, and you’re risking her health for some interviews?”

“Mr. Sainz, please calm down—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Carlos snapped, switching to rapid Spanish that the official clearly didn’t understand, though the tone left no doubts about what he was saying. “This is unacceptable. Inaceptable!”

“Carlos, you’re going to get fined,” Lewis warned quietly, though he was smirking a little, clearly pleased to see someone giving the FIA a piece of their mind.

“Fine me, I don’t care,” Carlos shot back. “It’ll be worth every cent if it means they treat her properly.”

The official quickly left, muttering something about reporting this to higher-ups, but the drivers didn’t care. They were all clustered around Y/N, making sure she was comfortable as they brought her a cold towel and water.

As soon as she was settled in, Max crouched beside her, giving her a warm but firm look. “From now on, you call us if they try to make you do anything stupid again, alright?”

Y/N chuckled, touched by their fierce protectiveness. “I promise.”

Carlos sat beside her, still fuming, but his hand gently rested on her stomach, protective and calming. “If they pull anything like this again, they’ll have to deal with all of us,” he said, his tone softer but no less serious.

That night, news of Carlos’s outburst—and his subsequent fine—spread like wildfire across social media. Fans took to Twitter, trending hashtags like #ProtectY/N and #JusticeForY/N. Clips of the drivers banding together to protect her from the heat circulated, and the internet quickly turned it into a rallying cry against the FIA’s treatment of Y/N.

@F1Fanatic: "Carlos got fined for standing up for his pregnant wife, and I’m here for it. #ProtectY/N 💪🔥"

@PaddockPrincess: "Seeing all the drivers look out for Y/N is the purest thing ever. She deserves all the love 🥹❤️ #FamilyGoals #ProtectY/N"

@F1Daily: "We all knew Carlos was protective, but the way he went off on the FIA? ICONIC. #JusticeForY/N"

Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she scrolled through the support from fans, all of whom felt like an extended family. With Carlos by her side, and a whole paddock of brothers watching over her, she knew she and her baby would be safe, no matter what.

[purecurlymeme]

may I get a kiss?

( the girl in the picture is @avaaleyrementegui on tiktok and instagram )

[cricketcanelane]

Can't stop thinking about brat!Patrick who gave his teachers hell at school. Yapping constantly, never studies, spitballs flying, the works.

Had more than one teacher longing for the good old days of corporal punishment where an unruly student soon felt the sting of a ruler or cane on the back of the knees. And not just the old ones who've been teaching for way too long - pretty graduates with high pony tails who've been told to lead with empathy first...ok maybe Patrick was trying to peek up her skirt by looking in the reflection of her patent leather heels.

Looking back he knows it was his own demented way of getting attention. Even some of his first wet dreams featured curvy faceless figures in tight skirts looking down through their glasses at his crotch and telling him how bad he was for making a... mess.

It's cheesy as fuck but student/teacher is still one of Patrick's favourite categories on PornHub. But not just barely legal girls in plaid skirts getting fucked over a desk - boys...boys who gets spanked for their misbehavior till they beg their teacher for forgiveness while thanking them for the important lesson in the same breath.

After telling you his tales of torturing teachers you decide a proper punishment is looooong overdue. The glasses, penicil skirt and thick wooden ruler were easy to find - a school boy uniform in Patrick's size was a little harder.

Patrick can't decide whether to laugh, whimper or moan at the sight of you on the sturdy chair in the middle of the living room, legs crossed, hair in a tight bun. But you're showing an obscene amount of cleavage and tapping the ruler menacingly against your open palm and blood rushes from his head to his cock.

It's a little pathetic how easily he clambers over your lap, bare ass up but he can't help it - he wants the sting of the ruler so bad he's almost drooling. Patrick wants to beg you to squeeze his throbbing cock between your soft thighs as you spank him but the friction of the fabric is scratching the flushed and angry tip just right. He doesn't need to hump his hips, the rhythm of the blows is gonna make him paint your lap white with cum.

Fuck it feels good to be bad.

[amphibiahawks321]

[Ava staring at something completely annoyed, Peter walks up next to her]

Ava : ......

Peter : Woah! What's got you so grumpy?

Ava : .....it's nothing

Peter : Yeaaaaah no one is gonna fall for that, did you actually sleep on the wrong side of the bed-

Ava : No... And it's still none of your concern... I'm fine...

Peter : Hey I'm just trying to help! You see i myself have been in the same situation like you before and–......Ooooooh

[Peter stares what's In front of him]

[Shows Y/N enthusiastically and energetically petting a white cat in his hands]

Peter : The irony huh?

Ava : I just don't understand I am literally RIGHT here

Peter : Yeah that's a shame... Let me handle this✨

[Peter starts walking towards Y/N making Ava panicked because she knows his probably gonna do something stupid]

Ava : Wait what!? Don't you–....Uuughh

[Peter walks up to Y/N and whispers something to him making Y/N gives the cat to Peter]

[Y/N walks up to Ava and puts both of his hand onto both of her cheek]

M!Reader : Chuckles because of a cat?

Ava : ......

[Ava placed her head onto his shoulder making Y/N immediately hugs her]

......

[Without Y/N noticing Ava and Peter gives each other thumbs up to one another]

[jeridandridge]

Melissa x reader media post vacation edition #2

[multiversalfandomwriter222]

hiiii can you write alex volkov!dom x reader smut please😓😓 I actually love ur writing style and i’ve been scrolling thru ur blog for so long

Of course! Sorry I haven't been getting to requests, I'm actually writing a book of my own!

Warnings: Smut, Cursing, P in V, Fem! Reader, Not exact Alex behavior

You're really Big.

"A-Alex!" You moan as he pushes in more of his length in your hole. The stretch was hurting you-not too bad, but enough to make you squirm away. "What is it baby?" Alex smirks down at you. "Y-You're-Oh god-" You whimper as he pushes more into you, making you arch your back into Alex's chest.

"I didn't catch that sweetheart. What did you say?" He tilts his head at you as you pant. He wipes the tears falling from your eyes and smirks down at you. "Y-You're really big!" You gasp and he pushes half his length into you. He gives you a pout. "Aww, I'm sorry sweetheart."

Your pussy clenches around him and the both of you groan. Alex chuckles and he leans down to kiss your forehead. "You're doing so good for me sweetheart. So, so good baby." He murmurs. "But do you want to know something baby?" You whimper in reply.

"I don't care if it takes the whole night. You are going to be taking this whole cock."

[fandomnerd9602]

Y/N the Spideypool confronts the White Tiger herself, Ava Ayala…

Y/N: here kitty kitty kitty

Ava pulls off her mask…

Y/N: oh my…hello kitty!

Ava: cute. I’m taking down Kingpin!

Y/N: no can do gorgeous. The power vacuum alone could destroy New York

Ava: move or be moved!

Ava readies her claws…

Y/N: cute kitty got claws

Y/N readies his katanas…and then tosses them aside…

Y/N: I can’t fight you. We’re both semi heroes and I’m a huge Jenna Ortega fan. Wanna go get tacos?

Ava: yeah okay

For @jacenradio7

[thatsgay-writes]

Hiya! I'm not entirely sure if you're requests are open, but.

Reader is the best sister warrior. (The best fighter. Aside from bearrice of course.) And she is tasked with protecting and training Ava,  Reader has some large and smaller scars across both her back and abdomen. (Ava sees them when r wears a sports bra or walks in on her changing her tshirt and asks about them. Ava also has a crush on r.) (Reader also never took the vows like Mary.)

The struggle between choosing to set this in season 1 or 2 was real.

Reader and Ava are slightly established.

Not ProofRead

"While Beatrice helps you practice phasing through the wall, I get to teach you how to fight." You tell Ava as the two of you stand in a large square mat that was provided by Jillian. You let out a whistle as you walk towards the rack of weapons on the wall. "Wow, times like these makes me wish I never... left my other job." You pick up a staff and try and get use to it's weight by spinning it a few times. "What? Nothing to say? Your usually so talkative." You say to Ava as you turn to face her, only to catch her eyes trailing back up your body. While you were not apart of the warrior nuns by way of scripture and not made to wear the habit like Beatrice and Camila, you still dressed in over sized long sleeved clothing. So seeing you in a skin tight sleeveless shirt was a nice surprise. "Sorry, just have no complaints about this arrangement." Ava says with a small smirk and you can't help but laugh. "Well then let's get started."

---

"Again." You say as you stand over Ava, staff pointed at the center of your chest. "C'mon we've been practicing for almost two hours!" Ava complains as she stands up. "Yeah and all the other warrior nun and guards are gonna let up when you get tired and sore." Ava groans as she gets back in to a fighting position. "I already told you, beat me and we're done." You barely finish your sentence as Ava charges you and tackles you to the ground. You try to maneuver her off of you but she knees you in the stomach and you concede. "Looks like training is over." Ava says with a smirk as she looks down on you, stilled pinned below her. "Great, so maybe you should get up and we could go get post work out smoothies or something." You tell her as you watch her eyes roam over you and you try your hardest to ignore your nervousness. "I don't know... I kind of like where I'm at."

You roll your eyes at her obvious attempt of flirting and try to return the comment with one of your own but are interrupted by Ava placing her lips on yours. You relax into the kiss and let Ava take the lead. She finally lets go of your wrists, which allows you to cup her face and neck when you feel her hands slip under the hem of your shirt. Ava breaks the kiss as she feels the uneven terrain of your skin under hands and goes to lift your shirt but you stop her. "Stop. Let me up." Ava looks like she's about to argue but you repeat yourself. "Ava, please." Ava gives in and gets off of you, holding her hand out to help you up but you ignore it and stand as fast as you can. "I'll... I'll see you later, ok?" You say to attempt to be casual but the way you practically sprint out of the room doesn't help.

---

You stare at yourself shirtless in the mirror. Eyes and hands tracing over the scars you accumulated over the years, before joining the nuns. You were so entranced, you hadn't heard Ava yelling your name from down the hall, outside the door, or even knocking. So she let herself in like she has done many times before, but this time she lets out a gasp that finally knocks you out of your stupor. "Ava! I-" You move fast to try and find the shirt you had been wearing just minutes ago. Ava doesn't say a word and silently walks up behind you before placing her fingers on one of the larger scars across your back. You freeze from the contact. "Is this what you didn't want me to see? Scars?" Ava asked confused. Everyone in the Warrior Nuns had scars, it wasn't surprising after being in countless battles. So why were you so secretive of yours?

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and turn to face Ava. "They're not just scars, well they are, but that's not why I was hiding them, well it kind of-" Words were just spewing out of your mouth at this point as you became more and more nervous and unsure of what to say. "Hey, y/n, breathe. Ok? It's just you and me right now, so just breathe." Ava says as she holds your face in her hands to get you to focus. "There ya go, just focus on me nothing else." Your breathing finally settles and you relax yourself into Ava's hold, causing her to smile. "Now you don't have to tell me why you hide your scars now or ever, just know that if you ever want to, I am here." Ava tells you serious and sincerely, a stark contrast to her usual blunt and joking manner.

"No, it's- I should tell you. I mean we kind of have something going on and you should know, in all, what you're getting into." You say as you sit on your bed and pat the spot next to you. "As you know, I never took the vows to be a full warrior nun. I kind of respect and follow them to a certain point. When I first joined the Nun, I was offered to take the vow but I declined. Not because I'm more loyal to Father Vincent than the church like Mary but because... I don't see myself as worthy enough." Ava almost immediately opens her mouth to defend you from yourself. "Please just let me finish."

"I know that doesn't necessarily make sense, especially since in most people's eyes, me just liking any gender makes me unworthy. But that's just their own distorted and incorrect views... Besides the point. Before I joined the Nuns I was a hitman, a gun for hire, not even for hire really. The man who... "owned" me, would beat us up if we didn't do what he asked." You can see Ava's eyes widen in shock, "Why did you stop?" She can't stop herself from asking. You let out a sigh and ring your hands together nervously. "It was my last mission. Kill a foreign diplomat before he could sign something. That's all I was told, I was given a location, date, and the exact time to kill the man. It was routine at this point. I would scale a building across the street or a few buildings away, line up sniper and wait..."

You feel tears well up in your eyes as you think back on your memory and Ava places a comforting hand on your shoulder. "The time hit and I fired my shot... and he leaned down. He bent his head down to sign the paper and I missed and... his family had been with him that day, they stood in front of him as he signed this paper..." Tears were spilling out of your eyes now and you wanted to stop, to not relive this memory but you pushed through. "I hit a kid. Straight in the stomach, where his dad's head was supposed to be. I didn't know what to do, so I ran, hid, and just kept replaying the moment over and over and over again in my head. How do you come back from something like that? How do I lay my head down at night and not see the kids face over and over again?" You say as sobs rack your body and Ava pulls you in closer, not knowing what to say. "Luckily, he survived... If he didn't I don't think I'd be here today." Ava finally lets the tears she was holding back fall.

"It's not your fault." Ava cringes, wishing she had found a better way to word what she needed to say. "Not my fault? I pulled the trigger. I missed! It wouldn't have been any better if I didn't miss. Imagine being the reason a kid has to watch his own father be murdered!" You yell as you stand up and start pacing the room. "That's... I didn't say that correctly." Ava stands up from your bed as well and stops you from pacing. "Look, I don't know exactly what to say in this situation but I will tell you what I think. You couldn't have known the mission would go wrong like that. You were put into an impossible situation by who ever was in charge of you. You can't shoulder all the blame onto yourself. I won't take away or minimize the pain you feel you deserve but I will carry it with you." You look into Ava's eyes surprised by her statement. Ava puts a finger to your lips to stop you from arguing with her. "I'm not going to run because of what you told me because I know you. I know that you feel deep guilt and regret for what you have done in your past. But I also know who you are now and I know that you are doing everything in your power to make up for what you did in the past. That's the Y/n I fell for. Not a perfect version you try to present to everyone else but the one that comes with a couple bumps and bruises... a couple scars. And until you are able to see yourself the way I see you, and even after then, you're stuck with me." All you can do is smile at Ava's words and feel the rush of relief as you pull her into you and into a kiss. "Thank you. Thank you, thank you." Is all you can say as you lay your head onto her shoulder and let the mask you were trying so hard to keep on, crumble.

[forgave-me-not]

☆ the love game ☆ b.s.

just a little blurb to clear the mind warnings: fluff, a bit suggestive

"ugh, you always kick my ass in chess," ben groaned, covering his face and falling back on the rug. you just looked at him and laughed. "and checkers and connect four and dominoes. admit it baby, I'm just too good." you crawl over and beam down at him.

ben sighs. "oh fine. you're...just too good." he mumbles the last bit, trying to get a reaction out of you. it works. "huh? i didn't hear that. could you speak up for me," you say with a smirk. ben sits up on his elbows. "you're. just. too. good. happy now?"

you smile. "happy as a clam." you lay down next to him and put a hand on his chest. "what should we do now? i'm bored," you say cuddling up against his body. "oh really? after all that action in our last game?" you can practically hear him rolling his eyes.

"well, there is one game that we can play. but i only play it with a very special person." ben rolls over to face you. "and who is this person?"

you giggle at his eagerness. "well. they're tall. says they're 6'4'," you look around the living room like there could be anybody listening and then drop your voice to a whisper. "but i think they're lying." ben cocks his head to the side. you continue.

"and they smile. like a lot. and their name starts with a b." ben's eye's widen. "ends with an n." you blink sultrily.

"my dad?"

"oh my god, you're such a moron," you say laughing. ben wraps his arm around your waist. you wiggle from his grasp and shuffle to the couch. "never ever would i say something about that lovely man," you say as the first pillow lands on his face. "you're such a chi-," ben starts. he's cut off by your assault that left every pillow you owned on top of him. satisfied with your handiwork, you stand up, dust yourself off, and put away your chess board. you were just about to make it out of the room before you hear ben's muffled voice.

he moves the pillows from on top of him and places them under his head. "soo, we still gonna play that game," ben calls out from the floor. you lean against the door frame. "we'll have to see about that." a smile simultaneously spreads across both of your faces. ben scrambles to his feet as you spin around the corner and skip to your bedroom. you knew boredom wouldn't be an issue for the rest of the evening.

[greenorangevioletgrass]

art donaldson who crawls up the bed only to find himself above you and FUCKING PLOPS down, covering you in his whole body weight because he just needs to give his love to one person, completely, 24/7

seriously guys i love that we all just think art is That Guy who plops down on top of you bc yes??????

you could be lying on the couch, scrolling through your phone, minding your own business and then he comes in from the gym or from the tennis court (bc you know he would have one at home ofc) and just go, “ohhhh, I’m so tired…” while you let out that strained grunt, “art, you’re crushing me…” and he just kisses your neck and your cheek and wherever else he can reach like,

“No, I’m shrouding you with my love.”

“Well, your love stinks. Go shower.”

And you know he would give you a playful bite before he finally gets up off you 😝

[its-avalon-08]

kiss and tell (cs55)

(in honor of our fav smooth operator's birthday!!)

✦ pairing - carlos sainz x female!reader

✦ genre - friends with benefits, jealousy, comfort

It all started in Singapore. The city was electric that night, the lights from the Marina Bay Street Circuit casting a mesmerizing glow over the entire island. The race had been grueling, one of the most challenging of the season, but Carlos Sainz had come out on top, crossing the finish line first and claiming victory. The celebration that followed was nothing short of euphoric.

The entire paddock was buzzing with excitement as the night unfolded, but amidst all the chaos, Carlos only had eyes for one person—Y/N. She had been a part of the McLaren team for a while now, working closely with the drivers and crew, and over time, a comfortable camaraderie had developed between her and Carlos. There was always something more beneath the surface, though, an undercurrent of tension that neither of them dared to acknowledge.

But tonight, things felt different. The champagne was flowing, the atmosphere was light, and the barriers they usually kept firmly in place were starting to crumble.

Later that night, after the podium celebrations, the party had spilled over into one of the swanky hotels overlooking the Marina Bay. The drivers were mingling, the music was loud, and the drinks were even stronger. Y/N found herself at the bar, nursing a cocktail when Carlos approached, still riding the high of his win.

“Not gonna lie,” Carlos said, leaning against the bar with that trademark smirk of his, “seeing you out there cheering for me was the best part of the race.”

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes playfully. “Oh, sure, it wasn’t the adrenaline rush of winning or the thrill of outmaneuvering the other drivers? Just me?”

“Absolutely just you,” Carlos teased, his voice dropping to a low, flirtatious tone. “You looked good today, Y/N. Real good.”

She raised an eyebrow, feeling the familiar warmth that always crept up when Carlos started flirting. “Careful, Sainz, someone might think you’re trying to get me into trouble.”

Carlos chuckled, taking a sip of his drink as he studied her. “Trouble? Who, me? I’m as innocent as they come.”

“Right,” Y/N replied with a grin. “Innocent like you didn’t just race at breakneck speeds through the streets of Singapore.”

“Innocent until proven guilty,” Carlos shot back, his eyes locking onto hers, the playful banter doing little to hide the tension building between them.

They spent the next hour trading flirty remarks, each one drawing them closer until the space between them was almost nonexistent. The noise of the party faded into the background, leaving just the two of them standing at the bar, caught up in a moment that felt like it had been building for months.

Finally, Carlos leaned in, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “You know, I don’t think I’ve properly thanked you for cheering me on today.”

Y/N tilted her head, her heart racing at his proximity. “Oh? And how do you plan on doing that?”

Carlos’s lips curled into a slow, seductive smile. “I have a few ideas. But I think we’d need a little more privacy.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she met his gaze, the unspoken invitation hanging between them. She knew what he was suggesting, and she also knew she wanted it just as much. They had danced around this for too long—why not see where it led?

Without breaking eye contact, she downed the rest of her drink and set the glass on the bar. “Lead the way, Sainz.”

Carlos didn’t need any more encouragement. He took her hand, the heat of his touch sending a shiver down her spine, and led her through the crowd, away from the noise and the people. The tension was palpable, an electric current running between them as they made their way to the elevators.

When the doors slid shut, sealing them inside, the air became even thicker with anticipation. Carlos leaned against the wall, his eyes dark with desire as he looked at her. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice rougher than usual.

Y/N stepped closer, the proximity making her pulse race. “I think we’ve both wanted this for a while, don’t you?”

Carlos nodded, his hand brushing against her arm, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. “Yeah, I have. But let’s keep it simple, okay? No strings, just…us, enjoying the moment.”

She hesitated for a split second, knowing that agreeing to this meant putting aside any hope for something more. But tonight, with Carlos looking at her like that, she was willing to take the risk. “No strings,” she agreed softly.

The elevator dinged as it reached their floor, and Carlos wasted no time in pulling her out, his hand gripping hers tightly as they walked down the hallway to his room. The tension was almost unbearable by the time they reached the door. Carlos fumbled with the keycard, his usual steady hands slightly shaky with anticipation.

Once they were inside, the door barely clicked shut before Carlos had her pressed against it, his lips crashing onto hers with a hunger that left her breathless. The kiss was everything she had imagined—hot, desperate, and filled with months of pent-up tension.

Carlos’s hands roamed her body, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. Y/N responded in kind, her fingers tangling in his hair as she kissed him back with equal fervor. The world outside disappeared, leaving only the two of them in a whirlwind of passion.

When they finally broke apart, gasping for breath, Carlos rested his forehead against hers, his voice rough with desire. “God, Y/N…this is exactly what I needed tonight.”

Y/N smiled, her lips brushing against his as she whispered, “I’m not going anywhere, Sainz.”

That night was the beginning of everything—and nothing. They had agreed it would be no strings attached, just something casual between two people who enjoyed each other’s company. But as the weeks went on, and the nights like this one became more frequent, it was clear that the feelings they had been trying to keep at bay were only growing stronger.

But Carlos was determined to keep things light, not wanting to ruin what they had with complications. He told himself over and over that this was enough, that he didn’t need more. But damn, he thought as he watched Y/N fall asleep beside him, her face peaceful and content, I’m in trouble. Because I think I’m falling for her.

And that was the one thing he was truly afraid of.

time skip

The days leading up to that night had been a rollercoaster of emotions for Y/N. Carlos had a habit of making offhand comments about relationships that cut deeper than she’d ever admit. They were subtle, sometimes even playful, but each one was like a small dagger to her heart.

It was just a few days ago when they were sitting in the McLaren hospitality area, surrounded by the usual crowd of drivers and team members. Daniel Ricciardo had been teasing Carlos about settling down, something about how the Spanish driver was getting too old to be a bachelor forever.

"So, Carlos," Daniel started, a mischievous grin on his face, "when are you going to finally settle down and stop breaking hearts left and right?"

Carlos chuckled, leaning back in his chair with an easy smile. "Settle down? Nah, mate, I’m not ready for all that. Relationships are too complicated. I’m enjoying life as it is."

Y/N, who was sitting across from him, felt her heart drop at his words. She masked it with a forced smile, pretending to focus on her coffee. Of course he isn’t ready, she thought, Why would he be? But underneath the casual demeanor, it hurt more than she could admit.

Carlos glanced at her, his smile faltering slightly when he noticed the way her eyes had dimmed. Fuck , Carlos, he thought to himself. Why do you keep saying this stuff? He hated seeing that look on her face, the one she tried so hard to hide.

But then, he did what he always did. He pushed those thoughts away, shoving his feelings deep down where they couldn’t betray him. It’s better this way. She deserves someone who can give her everything, not someone who’s constantly on the move, constantly putting himself first.

Yet, when he was alone, away from the noise of the paddock and the constant demands of racing, his thoughts always circled back to her. He would picture her smile, the way she laughed at his jokes, the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about something she was passionate about. It made his chest ache in a way that was both painful and comforting. God, I love her. I’m so damn scared of how much I love her.

It wasn’t just the teasing from the other drivers, either. There were moments in between—when they were alone, when the world was quiet, and it was just the two of them. Like the time when they were sitting in the team garage late one night after everyone else had left. She was leaning against him, her head resting on his shoulder, and the silence between them was warm, comfortable.

Y/N had looked up at him then, her voice soft and filled with an emotion that made his heart race. "Do you ever think about the future, Carlos? About…what you want?"

He had stiffened slightly, the question pulling him out of the comfort of the moment. He knew what she was really asking, and it terrified him.

Carlos hesitated before responding, forcing a lightness into his voice that he didn’t feel. "I don’t think too far ahead. I’m just taking things as they come, you know? No need to complicate things."

He felt her deflate beside him, her silence saying more than words ever could. It was in moments like these that Carlos hated himself the most. Why can’t I just tell her? he thought, his mind screaming at him to say something, anything, to ease the hurt he knew he was causing. But instead, he just sat there, pretending everything was fine. She deserves better. I can’t give her what she needs. It’s safer this way.

But it wasn’t safer. Not for him, not for her. Every time he said something like that, he felt the distance between them grow a little wider, the connection that had always been so natural starting to strain under the weight of unspoken words and buried feelings.

They were friends with benefits, nothing more. At least, that's what they told themselves. Y/N knew she was in too deep; her feelings for Carlos ran far deeper than casual. But every time she tried to bring it up, Carlos would brush her off with a charming smile and a playful comment about how he wasn't ready for anything serious.

As the night progressed, someone suggested a game of spin the bottle. The group erupted in cheers and groans, the perfect mix of nerves and excitement. The bottle spun, pointing first to Y/N who blushed, much to everyone's amusement.

Then it was Y/N's turn. The bottle spun, clinking against the floor as it finally slowed down, the neck pointing directly at Lando. The room erupted in playful cheers and wolf whistles, while Carlos froze, his smile faltering just for a second.

Y/N glanced at Carlos, her heart skipping a beat, but he had already turned his attention away, a coldness settling into his features. She could see his jaw clenching, the muscle ticking angrily, but he said nothing.

Lando leaned in with his usual cheeky grin. "Guess it's us then," he said, his tone light and playful, trying to make the situation as un-awkward as possible.

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding, but not for the reason everyone thought. As Lando's lips met hers, what was supposed to be a simple, friendly kiss quickly shifted. Lando, sensing the tension in the room, deepened the kiss, his hand slipping to the back of Y/N's neck, pulling her closer.

The room fell silent, the air thick with a sudden intensity. Lando's kiss was anything but innocent—it was slow, deliberate, and filled with a surprising passion. Y/N's hands instinctively moved to his chest, gripping his shirt as she found herself kissing him back with equal fervor. She could feel Lando's heartbeat beneath her fingertips, the heat of his body against hers.

(a little carlos pov)

As Lando leaned in for the kiss, Carlos’s internal monologue went into overdrive. Don’t do it, don’t kiss her like that, don’t touch her like that. She’s mine, for fucks sake! Why can’t you see that?

He watched as Y/N responded to Lando’s kiss, her hands on Lando’s chest, their bodies too close for his liking. That should be me. I should be the one holding her like that, kissing her like that. But I’m the one who keeps pushing her away. This is my fault. I’m going to lose her, and it’s my own fucking fault.

The kiss went on longer than it should have, and with each passing second, Carlos felt his control slipping. His heart pounded in his chest, anger and jealousy swirling together until he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. I love you, Y/N. I love you so much it’s tearing me apart. But I’m too scared to say it, and now I’m losing you.

(out of carlos pov)

Carlos watched, every muscle in his body tensing, his breath catching in his throat. He tried to look away, but he couldn't. The kiss was more than just a game now—it was a reminder of everything he was too afraid to claim.

When Y/N finally pulled away, her cheeks were flushed, her breath unsteady. Lando kept his hand on the back of her neck for a moment longer, his thumb brushing against her skin as he gave her a small, knowing smile. "Well, that was something," he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine, but it wasn’t from Lando's touch. It was from the cold, icy glare she felt burning into her from across the room. She turned to Carlos, who was no longer just silent—he was seething. His eyes were dark, filled with a mix of anger and something else, something deeper.

Carlos pushed his chair back abruptly, the legs scraping loudly against the floor. The room fell silent, all eyes on him. He stood up, his expression cold and unreadable. "I'm going outside for some air," he muttered, storming out without another word.

Y/N felt a knot of anxiety tighten in her stomach. She excused herself from the group, ignoring the curious glances, and followed Carlos outside. The night air was cool, a stark contrast to the warmth inside. Carlos was leaning against the side of the motorhome, his back to her, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Carlos," she called softly, but he didn’t turn around.

She moved closer, reaching out to touch his arm. "What's going on?"

Carlos finally turned to face her, his eyes blazing with an intensity that took her breath away. "What the fuck was that?" he demanded, his voice low but filled with anger.

Y/N blinked, taken aback by the sudden outburst. "It was just a game, Carlos. It didn’t mean anything."

"Didn’t mean anything?" He repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Sure didn’t look that way."

"What are you talking about?" Y/N asked, her voice rising in frustration. "You’re the one who said you weren’t ready for anything serious. You’re the one who keeps pushing me away!"

Carlos ran a hand through his hair, his expression torn between anger and something else—something deeper. "You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t hate myself for that?"

Y/N stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. "Then why, Carlos? Why do you keep doing this?"

"Because I’m scared!" Carlos exploded, the words ripping from him like a confession. "I’m scared of how much I care about you, how much I need you. I’m scared of what happens if I let myself love you and it all goes wrong!"

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. She had waited so long to hear those words, but now that she had, they were wrapped in so much pain and fear.

"I’m already in love with you, Carlos," she said softly, her voice trembling. "And it’s killing me that you don’t trust me enough to let me in."

Carlos closed his eyes, his face contorted in anguish. "I don’t want to lose you, Y/N."

"Then don’t," she whispered, stepping closer until they were inches apart. "Don’t push me away anymore. Let me love you, Carlos. You don’t have to be scared."

For a long moment, he just stood there, staring at her as if trying to decide whether to take the leap. Then, with a shaky breath, he reached out, pulling her into his arms. His lips found hers in a kiss that was anything but friendly—passionate, desperate, and filled with all the emotions he had kept bottled up for so long.

When they finally broke apart, Carlos rested his forehead against hers, his voice barely a whisper. "I love you, Y/N. I’m just…scared of how much."

She smiled through her tears, cupping his face in her hands. "Then be scared. But be with me. We’ll figure it out together."

Carlos nodded, his heart finally beginning to thaw. "Together," he repeated, sealing the promise with another kiss.

[coopswhxre]

Word's Mean Nothin'

Boyd Crowder x (Fem)Reader

Word Count: 3,224

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie

Synopsis: Boyd confesses his feelings for you and things get a little heated.

This is my first time writing anything for tumblr, so please be nice XD

It had been three weeks since your sister Ava allowed Boyd Crowder to stay in the attic of the home you both shared. He had kept to himself, spending his days reading the Bible and listening to the radio. Frankly, you preferred it that way; seeing his smug face was the last thing you wanted after all the trouble he'd brought upon Ava.

On a quiet Sunday afternoon, you decided to enjoy your coffee on the porch, relishing the crisp air, only to be startled by Boyd sitting on the bench by the door, his expression one of deep thought.

With a sigh, you considered him for a moment before turning to go back inside.

"Y/N," his voice was low as he called out your name, his gaze fixed on the woods beyond your property. "Would you sit with me?"

You paused, your foot hovering over the threshold. "Why should I?"

"Please…" His eyes met yours—wide, hazel, and piercing. To your surprise, they seemed to shimmer with what looked like genuine remorse.

"You've got two minutes, Crowder," you conceded, walking over to take the rocking chair opposite him.

You raised an eyebrow, arms crossed defensively as you leaned back. "Well, I ain't got all night, Boyd."

"I've been thinkin' 'bout these past few weeks, what my daddy did to your sister… to you." He gestured towards your shoulder, where a bullet from his father, Bo, had grazed you, sending a chill of remembered pain through you. "I know I can't undo what happened or clear away the bad blood between us, but I need you to know, I'm sorry."

Your gaze hardened, not quite ready to accept his apology, yet you couldn't help but notice the earnestness in his tone—something you hadn't expected from Boyd Crowder. The silence lingered for a moment, punctuated only by the distant calls of evening birds and the soft creak of the rocking chair beneath you.

"Why now, Boyd?" you finally asked, your voice a mix of curiosity and skepticism. "What's changed?"

Boyd sighed, looking down at his hands before meeting your eyes again. "I've had a lot of time to think, up there in that attic. 'Bout my life, the choices I've made, the folks I've hurt." He paused, his voice faltering slightly. "I've realized if I keep goin' down this path, I'll end up all alone. I don't want that. Not anymore."

You watched him, trying to decipher if this was another one of his manipulations. Boyd was known for his silver tongue, and trust was not something easily given, especially to a man like him. Yet, there was something different this time, a vulnerability you hadn't seen before.

"And what 'bout Ava?" you pressed, the concern for your sister surfacing. "What assurances do I have that you won’t put her—or me—in danger again?"

Boyd nodded, understanding the weight of your question. "I can't give you guarantees, Y/N. All I can offer is my word to do better. I wanna protect Ava, not cause her more pain. I hope, in time, you'll see that."

You remained silent, mulling over his words. The evening chill began to seep through your clothes, reminding you of the fading light.

"Time'll tell, Boyd," you finally said, standing up from the rocking chair. "Words mean nothin' without action. You better prove yourself, or you're out."

As you lay in bed that night, the conversation with Boyd replayed endlessly in your mind. His voice, earnest and somber, seemed genuinely filled with regret—a side of him you hadn't seen before. But deep down, you suspected Ava was his true motivation. Boyd had always harbored a soft spot for her, even during her marriage to his brother.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the radio playing upstairs, its volume carrying through the quiet house. With a muttered curse, you threw off the covers and made your way to the attic to tell Boyd to turn it down.

Reaching the attic door, you knocked sharply before entering. The sight that greeted you made you gasp—Boyd, just out of the shower, clad only in a towel around his waist, his skin damp and his hair slicked back. For a moment, you faltered, taken aback by the stark contrast between his usual rugged demeanor and the vulnerability he now displayed.

"Boyd, the music—it’s too loud," you said, striving to keep your voice steady despite the distraction.

"Oh, sorry bout that," Boyd replied, his tone apologetic as he reached for the radio, turning it down immediately. "Didn’t realize it was carrying through the house."

You nodded, your eyes inadvertently scanning the sparse, dimly lit attic. It was clear he lived simply here, with just a few personal items. The vulnerability of his living situation, combined with the unexpected intimacy of the moment, softened your stance just slightly.

"Thanks," you added, pausing at the doorway. "And Boyd—about earlier… I’m thinking about what you said."

Boyd’s eyes met yours, hopeful yet cautious. "I appreciate that, Y/N. Really, I do."

You were already halfway out the door when Boyd's voice halted your steps. "Wait, Y/N," he called, his tone hesitant yet earnest. You paused, your hand on the door frame, and turned back to face him.

"I just… If you've got a minute, I'd like to say a bit more," he said, stepping closer but keeping a respectful distance. The soft light from the single bulb overhead cast shadows that played across his features.

You sighed, your initial irritation fading into a cautious curiosity. "Alright, Boyd. What is it?" you asked, leaning against the door frame.

He took a deep breath, searching for his words - eyes searching the dimly lit attic before settling back on you. The air was thick with tension, his usual confident demeanor replaced by something more tentative. "I know this ain't the time or place, and maybe it's not my place to say, but…" His voice trailed off as he took a cautious step closer, his expression earnest.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms defensively. "Boyd, if you've got something to say, just say it."

He took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on you. "It's just… these past weeks, being here, seeing how you handle everything… it’s made me realize a lot more than just my mistakes." He paused, swallowing hard. "I’ve come to… care for you, Y/N. More than I should, given everything."

The confession hung between you, startling in its sincerity. Boyd looked vulnerable, almost afraid of how you might respond. "I know I don't deserve a chance, not with my history… but if you'd ever think it possible—"

"Boyd, I—" You started, your mind racing with conflicting emotions.

He stepped forward, closing the gap slightly, his presence overwhelming. "I know it's a lot to ask. I don't even know what I’m asking for. Just… don’t shut me out. Please."

The intensity in his eyes, the raw honesty in his voice, it broke through your defenses in a way you hadn't anticipated. You were about to speak, to chastise him or perhaps to dismiss his words, when impulsively, Boyd leaned in, his hesitation melting away in the moment.

His lips met yours, and for a brief second, the world seemed to stop. The kiss was tentative at first, questioning, as if he was still seeking permission. But as you stood frozen, surprised by your own stillness, something shifted. Maybe it was the isolation of the attic, the soft hum of the now-quiet radio, or the genuine remorse he had shown earlier; whatever it was, you found yourself not pulling away.

The kiss deepened slightly, Boyd's lips firm yet cautious. His hand, tentative at first, found its way to the small of your back, pulling you slightly closer. The warmth of his body contrasted sharply with the cool air of the attic, and you could feel the dampness of his hair, the remnants of his shower, as his fingers gently brushed against your cheek.

The softness of the moment, the gentle pressure of his lips against yours, was disarming. It wasn't rushed or fraught with the intensity of passion often depicted in stories; rather, it was a slow burn, a flicker of something new.

As Boyd finally pulled away, the slight catch in his breath was audible in the quiet of the attic. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of regret or rejection. What he found instead was confusion.

Boyd's gaze was unwavering, his brow furrowed slightly as if he was trying to read your thoughts.

"I… I'm sorry if that was too much," he whispered. "I just needed you to know, to really know, how I feel."

The weight of his confession, the unexpected intimacy of the kiss, left you silent for a moment. You were still processing, still trying to align this new Boyd with the one you had known, always calculating, always a step ahead.

His eyes held yours, searching for a sign of how you might react next. The tension was palpable, a mix of anticipation and fear. You took a moment, your own confusion swirling with the unexpected emotions stirred by the kiss.

After what felt like an eternity, you made your decision. Stepping forward, closing the gap Boyd had just created, you reached up to touch his face gently, the touch sent a shiver down your spine. Boyd looked at you, his eyes wide.

Without saying a word, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his again. This time, there was a certainty in your movement, a decision made. Boyd responded almost immediately, his hands moving to your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck. The kiss deepened, and you invited him further, parting your lips.

Boyd's response was immediate and intense. His tongue met yours, exploring softly, cautiously at first, then with growing confidence as you responded in kind. His fingers pressed into your waist, pulling you flush against his warm chest. The heat from his body enveloped you.

The world outside seemed to fade away as the kiss grew more passionate. You could feel Boyd's heart racing just as fast as yours, his breath mingling with yours, creating a rhythm that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. The soft hum of the radio now seemed like a distant memory, replaced by the sound of your joint breathing and the occasional creak of the attic floor beneath you.

As the kiss finally broke, you both stood there, forehead against forehead, trying to catch your breath. Boyd's hands remained on your waist, not willing to let go just yet, and you made no move to step back.

Boyd finally spoke, his voice husky and low. "Y/N, I—"

"Shh," you whispered, placing a finger on his lips. "Don't. We don’t need words right now."

As the tension in the room shifted from apprehensive to charged, you took Boyd's hand. The air in the attic felt thick, almost tangible with the turn of emotions. Leading him to his bed, you were acutely aware of every sound—the slight creak of the floorboards, the distant call of the night, and the rustle of the towel as it shifted against Boyd's form.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. The soft light from the single bulb cast shadows that danced on the walls, adding to the intimacy of the moment. You could see the outline of Boyd's form under the towel, the tension in his body, and the undeniable evidence of his desire.

Boyd stood before you, his breathing deep and uneven.

You reached up, your fingers gently touching the edge of the towel at his waist. Your eyes met, and there was a silent question in yours, a pause as you gave him a moment to decide.

Boyd's hand covered yours, his grip firm yet gentle. He nodded slightly, a wordless agreement, a surrender to the moment and to whatever it might bring. You pulled gently, and the towel fell away, leaving Boyd exposed.

You let out a soft gasp, your eyes widening in both surprise and desire as you took in the sight of him. His swollen tip, coated in glistening precum, called out to you and you couldn't resist. Your mouth watered with anticipation as you enveloped his length with your lips, savoring the velvety texture against your tongue. He groaned and grasped tightly onto your hair as he pushed himself deeper into your mouth, never taking his piercing gaze off of yours.

You moaned as his hand guided your movements, taking him in deeper and savoring the feeling of being completely filled by him. The sound of your moans vibrating around him was like a symphony to his ears until he suddenly let go, creating a soft popping noise as your lips released his member.

"Damn, Y/N," he gasped. "If you keep that up, I won't be able to return the favor." He laughed hoarsely, that toothy grin of his shining in the dim light before his expression turned dark. "Lie back, baby." The intense heat between your legs threatened to consume you at his words, and you couldn't help but melt at the way the word ‘baby’ rolled off his tongue.

You followed his instructions, shifting towards the head of the bed and easing yourself onto the soft pillows. He moved over you, taking in the sight of your body spread out beneath him, his arousal pressing against your thigh through the thin fabric of your pajama shorts.

His lips trailed down your neck, his warm breath sending shivers across your skin as he pressed himself against your thigh. You let out a gasp as he tugged at the neckline of your singlet, exposing one of your erect nipples. His tongue darted out to flick at the sensitive peak before taking it into his mouth, gently sucking and nibbling.

"Boyd…" you moaned, overwhelmed. "please, more."

Sitting up on his knees between your open legs, Boyd’s fingers gripped the waistline of your shorts, slowly pulling them down. Your heart raced as you felt the cool air against your bare skin. He tossed you shorts aside, eyes filled with desire, as he took in the sight of your glistening cunt.

You clenched your hands in the sheets, your breath hitched as you eagerly awaited his next move. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

Boyd leaned in closer, his face just above your quivering core. You felt his breath against your most sensitive spot, making you squirm. His finger traced your outer lips, teasing the entrance of your heat.

And then, finally, he slipped a finger inside, pushing gently against your tight walls. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through your entire body that left you gasping for breath.

"Fuck, Y/N," His voice a mix of lust and awe. "You're so tight."

His fingers delved deeper into your core, twisting and curling to ignite a firestorm of sensations that sent shockwaves through your entire body. Your hips eagerly moved in rhythm with his movements, yearning for the release that felt so tantalizingly close.

As he worked his fingers, his lips met yours in a fiery kiss. His tongue matched the rhythm of his skilled digits inside of you.

Just when you thought you couldn't handle any more pleasure, he withdrew his fingers, leaving you longing for more.

He spat into his hand and slicked it over his pulsing member, preparing himself for you.

Your heart raced as he slowly positioned himself at your entrance, pausing to meet your eyes.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer, your body begging for the connection that was moments away. And then, with a single, powerful thrust, he entered you, filling you completely.

A gasp escaped your lips, and a wave of pleasure washed over you as you held onto him tightly. Your inner muscles contracted around his length, drawing him in deeper.

Boyd let out a loud grunt, his teeth gritted and eyes squeezed shut as he adjusted to the tightness of your walls. His hands fisted the sheet on either side of your head as he paused for a moment, collecting himself.

Slowly, he began to move, setting a rhythm that sent jolts of pleasure coursing through both of you. You met his thrusts eagerly, your hips moving in tandem with his.

Your breaths became heavier, your bodies glistening with perspiration as the room filled with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and the occasional curse from Boyd.

Your hands gripped his back, nails digging deeply into his skin as you pulled him closer. The friction was exquisite, and you could feel the aching need building within you.

Boyd's eyes were locked onto yours, his face a mask of raw emotion. He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a fervent kiss as he thrust deeper. You moaned into his mouth, your body responding to his every move.

Your climax was building, the pressure growing with each thrust. You could feel it, the tightening coil of pleasure, threatening to unravel. You dug your nails into his back, arching your hips to meet his. The sensation was too much, and you cried out as you peaked, your orgasm washing over you in waves.

Boyd watched you in awe as he continued to thrust into you. The sight of you in the throes of orgasm was more than he could take, and he quickly joined you, his body shuddering as he released deep within you, ropes of hot cum painting your walls white.

Your legs shook with the aftershocks of your orgasm as you melted into the bed. Boyd's weight rested on top of you, his face buried in your neck as he caught his breath.

You ran your hands through his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers. "That was…" you began, the words barely escaping your lips.

“Somethin’.” Boyd finished your sentence, his words muffled against your skin when a knock at the door made you both jump.

Boyd quickly rolled off you, grabbing the towel from the floor and wrapping it around his waist. You straightened yourself on the bed, pulling the sheets around you, heart still pounding.

Dear god, you'd forgotten all about your sister downstairs!

Boyd cracked open the door just enough to peek through, and Ava's voice floated in, laced with a hint of amusement. "Y'all planning on making that racket all night? Some of us have a busy day tomorrow," she teased, her tone light but carrying a knowing edge.

A sheepish grin spread across Boyd’s features. "Sorry, Ava," he called back through the slightly ajar door, his voice a mix of embarrassment and mirth. "We'll keep it down."

"Better," Ava replied, her voice now softened with laughter. "Just remember, thin walls in this old house."