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amirasainz · 2 months ago

Note

Can you do reader is the youngest of the drivers and practically everyone’s baby

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💕

F1's Darling

The paddock was alive with the hum of cameras, the chatter of mechanics, and the occasional roar of engines. At the center of it all stood Y/n Y/l/n, the 18-year-old phenomenon who had taken Formula 1 by storm. As Red Bull's youngest ever female driver, she wasn’t just talented—she was adored. A natural behind the wheel, witty in interviews, and effortlessly charming, Y/n had an uncanny ability to bring out a protective streak in everyone around her.

"Y/n!" A familiar voice called out as she stepped out of her garage after a gruelling practice session. She turned to see Carlos walking toward her, a warm smile on his face and a sandwich in hand.

"You need to eat," he said in his accented English, offering her the snack.

Y/n chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Carlos, you know I have a team that feeds me, right?"

"Yes, but they don’t feed you properly," he countered, waving the sandwich in front of her. "Eat. Now."

Laughing, she accepted it. "Thanks, dad."

Carlos grinned. "Don’t let Fernando hear that."

---

Later that evening, Y/n found herself wandering through a shopping district with Charles. The Monegasque driver had insisted on treating her after seeing how exhausted she looked post-qualifying.

"Y/n, this will look amazing on you," Charles said, holding up a sleek leather jacket.

"Charles, I can’t afford half the stuff you’re picking," she protested, though she couldn’t help but admire the jacket.

He gave her a mock-serious look. "Did I ask if you could afford it? You’re not paying. That’s the rule."

"You spoil me too much," she said, blushing as he led her to the counter.

---

Race day arrived with its usual chaos. As Y/n climbed out of her car after a gruelling 60 laps, Lewis was already waiting by her garage. He had a towel in hand, which he draped over her shoulders before handing her a bottle of water.

"You okay, kid?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Y/n nodded, her breathing still heavy. "Yeah, just... tired."

Lewis crouched slightly so they were eye level. "You did good out there. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise."

Her lips quirked into a small smile. "Thanks, Lewis. That means a lot."

"Of course," he said, patting her shoulder. "Now go rest."

---

The post-race press conference was brutal, as always. A journalist attempted to insinuate that Y/n's lack of experience cost Red Bull the race. Before she could respond, Max cut in sharply.

"Excuse me, but that’s completely out of line," Max said, his voice cold. "Y/n drove exceptionally today. She doesn’t deserve this kind of question."

Y/n glanced at Max gratefully, her nerves easing. After the conference, he pulled her aside.

"Don’t let them get to you," he said, his blue eyes serious. "You’re one of the best drivers here. Don’t forget that."

---

One afternoon, while sitting in the paddock, Y/n struggled with a stubborn bottle of water. She twisted and twisted, her frustration growing by the second.

Before she could ask for help, Fernando appeared out of nowhere, took the bottle from her hands, opened it effortlessly, and handed it back without a word.

"Thanks, Fernando," she said, startled but grateful.

He gave her a small nod before walking off, leaving her to chuckle at his understated kindness.

---

Lando was the team's unofficial mood-maker, and Y/n was often his favorite target.

"Knock, knock," he said one morning, leaning into her motorhome.

"Who’s there?" she asked, already grinning.

"Orange," he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Orange who?"

"Orange you glad you have me to brighten your day?" he said, bursting into laughter.

Y/n groaned. "That’s terrible, even for you."

"But you’re smiling," he pointed out, grinning.

---

During a rare off weekend, George invited Y/n over to his place in Monaco. Over tea, he patiently explained racing lines and strategies that could help her in the upcoming season.

"You’ve got the speed," he said, gesturing at a diagram on his tablet. "Now it’s just about perfecting your consistency."

"Thanks, George," she said, scribbling notes in her notebook. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

"Learn slower," he teased, earning a laugh from her.

---

The camaraderie wasn’t lost on the fans or the media. They loved seeing how the drivers rallied around Y/n, treating her like their collective little sister. It wasn’t unusual to see clips of Lewis helping her out of a car, Carlos feeding her snacks, or Max standing up for her during interviews.

Y/n adored her team, but it was the broader F1 family that truly made her journey special. They didn’t just see her as a driver; they saw her as their driver.

"Y/n," Max called one evening as they were leaving the track. "You coming to dinner with us?"

"Depends," she said with a playful smile. "Is Carlos bringing food?"

"Always," Carlos replied from nearby, making her laugh.

As they walked off together, Y/n couldn’t help but feel grateful. F1 was a tough world, but with her self-appointed paddock family by her side, she knew she could handle anything.

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #xoxo babygirl 💋#carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #max verstappen x reader #fernando alonso x reader #lando norris x reader #george russell x reader

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vivwritesfics · 2 months ago

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The Devil Dances With A Smile

Chapter One

He can't kill you. He can't bring himself to lay a hand on you. So, he falls for you instead (its a shame his employer really wants you dead)

Hitman!Max x reader

Chapter Two

His class wasn't listening, he could tell that much as he drew things onto the whiteboard. He ignored it, kept writing. But then the giggles started up.

It was a new class, a bunch of eleven year old experiencing their first year of high school. For the first week, they had been quiet. But now they were a month in. The trouble makers had learnt how to make their peers laugh and it was normally at his expense.

They hadn't yet seen their teacher, a professor, at that, angry. He'd gotten annoyed, had snapped a pen under his desk to help keep his cool, but had never gotten angry with his year sevens.

"Eliza, James!" He snapped, and the two fell quiet. He wasn't angry, he just needed the two of them to know better than to test him. Not today. Not after how rough his other job had been.

"Sorry Professor Verstappen," the two of them said in unison. The entire class fell silent when the two of them did, and Max got on with his lesson.

Max rubbed his eyes as his lesson came to an end and his class handed in their workbooks. He shouted a reminder about homework, but their chatter was too loud to hear it.

When the door fell shut and Max put his head in his hands. Just a few minutes of rest, that was all he needed. He let his eyes fall shut.

Even in rests that only lasted a minute, Max dreamt the same thing. The young man with the lion tattoo on his hand, begging for his life at the end of his gun. It didn't matter what he said, Max always pulled the trigger.

A knock at his door pulled him out of his dream, pulled him back into his day job. He pushed his hair out of his face and looked towards his classroom door.

The history teacher stared at Max for a minute. No, not stared. He'd asked him a question and Max had just ignored it. "Huh?" He asked, a yawn leaving a lips.

"I asked if you were okay," Charles said, his worried expression softening.

Max gave a nod. He had always liked Charles, even when they were academic rivals through secondary school. But then university came and they went their separate ways. Max went off to study geography and Charles went to off to do history. They never thought they'd be reunited as colleagues. "Just tired, that's all," he admitted.

Now, don't get it wrong, Max loved teaching. Sculpting young minds, helping them pave their way forward in life. But teaching was only part of what he did.

Most teachers went home and marked homework. Max did that too, for maybe an hour. And then it was dinner while the cats ate. Tonight he had some shitty, healthy pizza and the cats had their gourmet food.

But then his night shift began.

He didn't look like a contract killer. He didn't wear all black, didn't have a long coat with weapons beneath. No, he looked like a normal guy. He wore skinny jeans and a black leather jacket.

But their was a reason people called on The Lion. He didn't exactly need a weapon to kill anyone. He was quick, clean, and didn't ask any questions.

Christian met him in the same place each time. Max entered the office in the warehouse full of old cars, and Christian slipped the manila folder across the desk.

There was a usual routine to this. Normally Max pulled out the paper in the folder, read the information on his target. He learnt all he needed to know about his target, grabbed the weapon he thought would be best, and he set off.

But not this time.

Pulling the information from the folder, he turned the paper towards Christian. "What the fuck is this?" He asked.

On the folder was a girl in a cafe. She had an apron around her waist and a tray of empty glasses in her hands. No criminal convictions listed, no possible crimes.

No reason for Max to take her out.

"Something about inheritance," said Christian, his voice nonchalant. He didn't care what happened to the target, as long as they ended up dead by the end of it. Christian was just there to fill his coffers.

Max looked at the picture again. She was pretty, he couldn't deny that. She was smiling in the picture, seemingly making jokes with somebody the picture hadn't captured. His usual targets were criminals that had made threats against people. Those people wanted the criminal taken out before they made good on those threats. That was where Max came in. He was the one that took them out.

His other type of target was rich assholes. The kind that exploited people for money, the kind who's wealth would be better distributed to the very people they were exploiting. They weren't easy jobs, killing someone and changing their will, and they didn't get them often, but they were Max's favourite. The tougher the better.

"Christian."

Christian groaned as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Do you want to stand around and argue, or do you want to get paid?"

The Lion was on the prowl. No weapons, Max wouldn't need them for her. He climbed into his car and looked at the address of the café. A café by the train station, open for twenty-four hours out of the day. Two and a half star rating, the only good thing about the café being the 'pretty, kind waitress'.

Once the night was up, the reviews would plummet.

Max drove. A waitress at a shitty, twenty-four hour café. She couldn't be worth as much as Christian was saying she was. And, if she was worth that much, she couldn't have known.

Parking outside of the train station, Max looked over at the café. It was the same angle the picture was taken from, he recognised as he looked down at her picture in his folder. She was grinning in that picture and she was grinning now as she cleared away somebody's plates.

He couldn't do this.

***

You didn't love your job. How could you when this was your job? But you still completed it with a smile. Making coffees and running food out to people. Clearing plates and glasses, and wiping over their tables.

It wasn't forever, you told yourself as you took the plates back into the kitchen. "Desserts for table sixteen," You called to the boys in the kitchen. Jimmy saluted you as you scraped the plates into the food waste bin. It was just you, Jimmy and Frank this late at night. Jimmy and Frank were in the kitchen, while you worked the floor.

While Jimmy made the desserts, you backed out of the kitchen and surveyed the few tables you had in. Somebody was at the counter. "Sorry," you said as you rushed past him. You logged into your till and looked at him. The handsome man with the freckle on his lip. "What can I get for you?" You asked, finger poised over the buttons.

For a moment, he said nothing. It was nearly one in the morning, and he wasn't being an easy customer. He looked behind you, at the drinks you had on offer. He looked at the small version of the menu on the board behind your head.

"How about some coffee?" You tried, holding up a mug.

He gave a nod. "A coffee, please," he said and you got to work. Making coffee's was the easiest part of your day. Steaming the milk and pouring it in with the shot of coffee, creating a leaf in latte art at the end. You passed over the coffee and put it through the till.

The bell rang, signalling the desserts were ready, but you didn't run to it. Not while the handsome man in the skinny jeans and leather jacket was still paying. His phone chimed as the payment went through and he grabbed his coffee, taking a seat on one of the round tables by the counter.

You ran to answer the bell, to run the apple pies over to table sixteen, and returned to the counter, cleaning the coffee machine and the jug you used to clean your milk.

Eyes were on you as you worked. You didn't mind it too much, it happened more than you cared to admit. Teenagers that should have been in bed, coming into the café to stare at you as you served them black coffee. You let them sit in the café, since it was better than them roaming the streets.

As you cleaned the counter, you looked at the little round table opposite. Looked at the man with the freckle on his lip. He was pretty, pretty blue eyes, pretty full lips. He was well put together, better than most of the people you saw something through your door at this time in the morning. "What brings you here at this time in the morning?" You asked as you sprayed sanitiser on the counter.

The handsome man with the freckle on his lip looked around. "I'm probably here for the same reason anybody else is," he said and sipped his coffee.

You couldn't help but look around at everybody else in the café. Those getting home late from work, waking themselves up before they headed home to their families. People on break from working in the middle of the night, coming in for a coffee to wake themselves up. People that just wanted shelter, that you had undercharged for a coffee.

The man in front of you didn't seem like that.

Your eyes returned to him. You stared at him, stared at what he was wearing, at the way he was holding his cup. He didn't look on break from work, desperate for a fix of caffeine. He didn't look ready to go home, waking himself up to go and deal with the kids.

You hummed and grabbed a pastry from the counter. "Here," you said and placed it in front of him.

He looked up, brows furrowed as he continued to smile at you. "What's this for?" He asked and pulled the little, white plate towards himself.

You shrugged your shoulders. You couldn't very well tell him that you wanted to figure him out, that you gave him the pastry to keep him around.

Going back to work, you could feel his eyes on you as you cleared away plates and glasses and cleaned tables. You caught his eye several times as you ran plates back into the kitchen.

When you got him his second cup of coffee, he finally introduced himself. "I'm Max," he said and pushed his empty cup towards you.

"It's lovely to meet you, Max," you said, keeping your tone polite. You introduced yourself, gave him the name that he could have read from your name tag.

At the end of your shift, Max was still sitting there. Your conversation had been light through the evening, neither of you learning very much about each other. Just enough to keep you thinking about him as you got changed.

The morning crowd were walking in as you walked out. Max was still at your table. Part of you wanted to stop, wanted to tell him how you hoped to see him again another time.

But Max stood. He put his empty mug at the end of his table. "Can I walk you to your car?" He offered, taking long strides to catch up with you.

You gave him a smile. "You can walk me to the bus stop, if you'd like," you said and he answered you with a nod.

The two of you kept talking, the topics light as he walked you to the bus stop just a little way down the street. Even at the bus stop, Max stayed talking to you until your bus pulled up.

"I'll see you around," Max said as you stepped onto the bus.

Waving, you paid for your ticket and found yourself a seat.

You should be dead, he couldn't help but think as he walked away. Max ignored his buzzing phone as he walked back to his car.

Christian was going to have his head, he knew as he started heading back to his apartment.

He couldn't kill you, he was sure of that now.

a/n we're starting over with taglists. no permanent one. comment if you wanna be added for the series

taglist: @nurse-floyd @biancathecool

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #mv1 #mv1 imagine #mv1 x reader #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine

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the-thing-inside-your-closet · 5 months ago

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The Colosseum

I started writing this and have no idea how to finish it or where to take it from here. I had an idea but lost it halfway through 😅

Valerie had had it with all of the ghosts in Amity. She could hardly sleep, was missing schools as a result because she was either too exhausted to stay awake long enough in class, or another ghost attack was forcing her to miss the entire period to go deal with that day’s trouble maker. Almost every part of her body hurt in one way or another. Bruises that should have faded by now but haven’t because every day she was out collecting more. She couldn’t blame Phantom either. He seemed just as tired and beat up as she was even with his healing factor.

With the number of ghost attacks having nearly tripled in frequency, they’d both come to the mutual decision that working together would be the best course of action to deal with the constant onslaught. And reluctantly, Val had to admit that Phantom might not be as bad she first assumed. She hadn’t anticipated actually getting along with the ghost as well as she had been. Much less the realisation that they could almost be considered…fiends now. Maybe. She refused to laugh at his god awful puns though, he didn’t need anymore encouragement.

But even with Phantom’s help, she was so tired. So, so, so very tired. And so one could say Valerie was well within her rights to say that this situation, was just more bullshit she didn’t need right now.

She had been trying to cram for the next upcoming test when there was a sudden flash of light, so bright it was blinding and she had to shield her eyes with her arms from the fear that this light might burn through her eyelids. Her body tingled, and she felt something wash over her. When the light subsided, just as quickly as it had appeared, she slowly opened her eyes.

“Where the hell am I?”

She was in a colosseum. The stone of the structure was a deep purple with intricate glimmering gold details carved into the walls and pilasters. There was a magic in the air that felt different to the sensation she would get in the Ghost Zone. The sky above was pitch black with more stars than Val had ever seen visible in Amity, and two moons.

So, not Earth then, she concluded.

“Hey Red, where are we?” Valerie spun around to see Phantom floating over to her, his eyes scanning the area around them. Then Val looked down at herself to see that she was in her Red Huntress suit. She couldn’t remember putting it on. Maybe that was what the full body sensation from earlier was about.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Val checked herself over, making sure she had all of her weapons on her should she need them. When she was satisfied she did, she put her hands on her hips and let her gaze wander over the arena.

“I don’t think we’re on Earth anymore,” Phantom muttered as he took in the sky above them. For a split second Val swore she saw his freckles glow a soft green as he was taking in the stars above them.

“We should start looking for a way out of here, or at least figure where here is,” Valerie had just turned to start walking when the ground rumbled and shook, “What-”

Another blinding flash of light appeared behind them. And once again, it had vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.

“What the hell was that?” A new voice asked from behind them.

Val and Phantom turned in unison to stare at the group in front of them. All of them were dressed in some sort of hero ensemble. It seemed the voice had come from a man donning a brown leather jacket over an armoured suit with a red bat symbol across his chest, an assortment of guns and other weaponry strapped to his body, and most notably a red helmet. He and the rest of his group seemed to be taking in their surroundings the same way Val and Phantom.

“Who are you? Were you the ones who summoned us?” Came a new voice, from a young man (or was he a teenager?) dressed in black leggings with a red tunic, utility belt, and a chest harness connecting to the symbol on the centre, a black cowl and a cape. In his hands was a bo staff. He and the others had all dropped into combat ready stances the moment they became aware that they weren’t the only people in the colosseum.

And from here I couldn’t figure out how to continue

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thomsonsharon347 · 6 months ago

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How a Leather Jacket Should Fit

VISIT:

If you wish to know how a leather jacket should fit, then here are some guidelines. Keep on reading to know more!

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jacketssupplier · 10 months ago

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Why Invest in a Leather Jacket?

There are many benefits to wearing a leather jacket. To know about them, keep reading!

Visit: https://www.merchantcircle.com/blogs/oasis-jackets-wholesale-jackets-north-hollywood-ca/2024/3/Why-Invest-in-a-Leather-Jacket-/2682089

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tteotlma · 2 days ago

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Sugar and Skin

First Encounter

Bucky’s never been sure if normalcy is something he’s cut out for. But when he meets you—a baker with a pretty smile—he starts to think maybe he could try.

TattooArtist!Bucky x Baker!Reader (1.4kw)

tw: 18+ MDNI, mild language, subtle tension, implied attraction, slow-burn, strangers to friends to lovers a/n: happy new year! this year i'd like to actually begin and complete a multi-parter story so this is my attempt!

---

“Welcome in!” Bucky heard as he stepped into the bustling cafe shop. The smell of freshly brewed coffee, and baked bread quickly engulfed him. He looked around for the source of the voice while taking in the neatly curated shelves of novels, mismatched wooden tables and the large handwritten chalkboard menu boasting about an array of the day’s specials. Despite its charm, Bucky felt heavily out of place in his chipped leather jacket, and mud cracked boots.

With the patrons weaving past him like he was another display in the shop he continued scanning the area noticing a few stray cats lounging throughout the space. They basked in the early afternoon sunlight that poured through the large windows. One, a sleek gray cat with white mittens and socks stretched lazily on the windowsill, while another a white cat with piercing blue eyes, watched the room with curious intensity.

The customers greeted the felines as they entered the shop and followed the line that formed at the counter where a young man with boyish charm and unruly brown hair was expertly managing the register. Meanwhile a man with a clean shaven jawline and an infectious grin moved confidently between the counter and the coffee makers.

“You need some help?”

Bucky turned to the voice, finding himself at the end of the display case with a woman on the other side. Her hair was pinned up in a loose bun, a few stray strands escaping to frame her face. She barely paid him any mind as she deftly unloaded a giant tray of assorted pastries and bread into the glass showcase, her movements quick and practiced. The faint smudges of flour on her apron and the way she handled each item with care hinted at her role in crafting the delicacies.

“You look a little lost,” she said without looking up, her tone teasing but not unkind. "Can I help you find something, or are you just here to admire the cats?” she asked, finally glancing up at him. Her gaze was sharp but warm, assessing him with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

Her teasing tone caught him off guard, making him glance up sharply. His ears seemed to perk slightly, before he quickly refocused. “Pick up,” he said, his voice low and clipped, offering her a tight-lipped smile that was more reflex than intentional.

She let out a small hum. “Name?”

“Steve.”

“Oh yes–” Her demeanor instantly changed as she put the tray down, wiping her hands on her apron. “Let me get that for you.” Her hands masterfully opened a paper bag with clear cellophane, and slid open the sliding door to the showcase.

“Sam!” She yelled, causing Bucky to jolt. “I need Steven’s special.” She called out, and Bucky's eyes flicked back to her. Steven.

He heard a faint reply from across the cafe commotion and watched as she used the metal tongs to grab two bear claws from the wax paper lined tray. Bucky almost let out a snort but instead, he opted to shove his hands in his pockets, glancing down to his boots. He watched as crumbs of dirt crumbled from his shoe and littered the linoleum floor.

“What’s the Steven Special?” Bucky suddenly heard himself say. He looked at her through his lashes. He watched a small smile sneak across her lips.

“A medium white chocolate macchiato, with two bear claws.” She said, fingers crinkling the bag shut as she slid it across the clear surface. This time Bucky let out a snort. Before he could thank her, she went back to unloading her discarded tray. He hesitated on grabbing the bag.

“So you’re the new guy then?” She asked suddenly, quickly glancing at him. He looked at her. “Stevie's mentioned he’s expecting a new comer, and I’ve never seen you before so—” she explained. Stevie.

“Then yeah.” He gave a curt smile, reaching for the bag on the counter.

“Thought so,” she said, her tone a hint lighter now as she turned back to her work. “He’s been talking ‘bout you for weeks, you know.”

“Nothing bad I hope.”

She turned to set down the now empty tray, glancing over her shoulder, a glint in her eye. “Depends on your definition of bad.” Her tone was playful but laced with just enough intrigue to make him pause. She spins swiftly, closing the display case.

“Nah,” She shrugs with a smirk, “He’s just psyched you're here, it’s kinda cute.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. She waves a hand in the air.

“He’s just got this way of talking about things—”

“Order up.”

The sudden burst out causing the both of you to abruptly turn toward the man holding out an oat-colored to-go cup.

The woman cleared her throat, shifting back to allow space for the man to step in. Her smirk faded into a polite, neutral expression, her focus now on adjusting a tray of napkins nearby.

“Steven’s special,” the man announced, his grin wide and easy, breaking through the tension that had lingered just a moment earlier.

Bucky’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer before he turned toward the man, who was now leaning casually against the counter, holding the cup out as if he were presenting a prized trophy.

Bucky nodded and reached for the cup, his movements deliberate. “Appreciate it,” he said, his voice steady.

“No problem,” the man replied, his tone light and teasing. “Better get it to him quick, he’s been talking about the claws all morning.”

“Noted,” Bucky muttered, though his gaze flickered back toward the woman, who was now bent over another display, her attention fixed on her work as if the earlier exchange had never happened.

The man cleared his throat sharply, drawing Bucky’s attention. When Bucky turned toward him, he was already side-eyeing the woman before shifting his gaze back to Bucky with a deadpan expression. It wasn’t accusatory, but there was a challenge in the look—like he’d caught Bucky doing something he shouldn’t be.

Bucky’s brow twitched in response, his face otherwise impassive, and he adjusted the bag in his hand.

“Thanks again,” he said curtly, stepping back from the counter.

Sam held his gaze for a beat longer, then turned his attention away from him.

Bucky stepped toward the door, the hum of the café enveloping him once more. His grip tightened slightly on the bag as he moved, but something tugged at his attention, making him glance back one last time.

The man was now leaning against the counter, his posture relaxed, but his head tilted toward the woman. Whatever he’d said caused her to laugh softly, her shoulders shaking with the motion. The earlier ease in her posture had returned, her movements efficient and unbothered, as though their exchange had been nothing more than a routine part of her day.

She brushed a strand of hair from her face as she replied, her voice lost in the café’s hum. They shared another laugh.

Bucky’s jaw tightened, though his face betrayed nothing as he turned back toward the door. Pushing it open, he stepped into the cool air outside, the bell above jingling faintly as the door closed behind him.

As he walked down the street, the warmth of the café began to fade, but the soft intensity of the exchange lingered. He shook his head with a quiet huff of air, the bag crinkling faintly in one hand while the other held the to-go cup. His boots scuffed lightly against the pavement as he approached a sleek, dark car parked a few steps ahead.

Bucky unlocked it with a press of a button, the quiet beep breaking the stillness. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he set the paper bag on the passenger side and the cup in the holder before resting his hands on the steering wheel.

For a moment, he sat there, the hum of the café replaying in his mind. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if to clear it.

With a twist of the key, the engine purred to life, the quiet power of the car grounding him. As he pulled out onto the street, the cool air rushing through the window carried away the lingering warmth of the café—but not entirely.

---

a/n: I know there's barely anything there but I have an idea and im jsut trying to roll with it -- so if you have any ideas let me know! i’m begging — pls reblog to support!

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sweetestberryofthebunch · 9 days ago

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Zweisamkeit (Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Zweisamkeit, die

noun

[ feminine ] /ˈʦvaizamkait/

genitive , singular Zweisamkeit | nominative , plural Zweisamkeiten

„Togetherness“; being together in harmony

ex. Wir sind am liebsten daheim in trauter Zweisamkeit.

“What we like best is being at home when it’s just the two of us.”

Or — it’s 1982 and Agatha Harkness fucks her lover in their dingy little studio apartment in Berlin.

Content/Warnings: WitchKiller!Agatha(they just talk about it tho), fluff, NSFW, soft sex, morning sex, slight mommy kink, praise, it's pretty cute and vanilla, oral, vaginal fingering (A receiving), dry humping, they’re lovebirds your honour, smoking, mentions of alcohol consumption.

A few rays of the grey morning light peaked through the mismatched curtains of your apartment, exposing dust particles dancing through the air. The metal bed frame you‘d recently acquired stood kind of awkwardly in the middle of the room, you hadn’t really figured out the set up of the new place yet.

The studio apartment was small, especially for how expensive it was, there were pipes exposed above your head and the shower took several minutes to run lukewarm at best. When Agatha had shown you the apartment initially, you were less than impressed. The walls were bare, it was small and her collection of centuries old books cramped up the place, and, if you were honest, you were way too close to The Wall for your liking. But the witch was nothing if not insistent.

The closer she was to the rustle of people the better. The higher the emotions ran, the more likely magical talent was to form. Magical talent that she could then suck out to her heart's content. So you‘d taken the place, despite how shit the deal had been. And, slowly, you’d grown to like it here. You liked living with her. Your collection of vinyls and posters mixed well with her books and artefacts, there were plants and thrifted lamps hanging from the high ceiling. She had carved runes into the window frame that kept the sounds of the busy streets out, so on mornings like this, you could enjoy the quiet, bask in the illusion of peace even in the middle of the world's loudest city today.

In the mornings like this, it was just you, standing in the kitchen in nothing but a pair of fluffy socks and a knitted sweater so large it slipped off one shoulder, the gentle snoring coming from the bed where Agatha was still fast asleep between the sheets, and the kettle‘s distant hum filled the room. Her leather jacket lay next to the bed crumpled up on the floor, a habit she had only adapted since arriving in Berlin, as if the chaos of the city had washed away her ability to clean a mess with the flick of her wrist. You‘d scold her about it later, if you didn’t forget.

When the quiet hum of the kettle turned into a whistle, you quickly took it off the heat, turned off the stove, and poured the boiling water into the cup before you. One glance over your shoulder and you saw the noise hadn’t stirred the witch awake, she was still curled up and breathing evenly.

You didn’t exactly love the instant coffee, but the kitchen was small and countertop space was limited. Of course, Agatha had lots to complain about your decision against a real coffee maker for counter spaces sake. But when you‘d bent her over the small kitchen island and made her come undone three times in a row from behind, she’d given in. The promise of the favour being returned had also kept you surprisingly consistent with cleaning your dishes, too.

Once the coffee powder had fully dissolved in both mugs, dark liquid steaming and filling the air with, you tiptoed around the kitchen island, crawling back onto the bed where Agatha was still asleep. The slight dip of the mattress as you shuffled your way back to your spot beside her made her stir, turning from one side to the other, eyes still closed, brow creased just the slightest in an attempt to stay asleep just a few moments longer. Even as the light began to blind her, as the day tugged at her consciousness, pulling her out of slumber.

Careful not to spill any of the hot drinks, you leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss to her brow as Agatha scrunched up her nose.

A few weeks ago, you‘d tried to get her to pierce her eyebrow, just for fun, and she had frowned at you. Anyone who lived as long as she had knew not to give in to frivolous trends that would be out of style in the blink of an eye again.

That mindset certainly hadn’t stopped her from any of her crazy hair journeys though.

Somehow, despite the aggressive perm she‘d gotten, Agatha’s deepwood brown curls were still soft to the touch, and even when she teased them up on the weekends to form a cloud of frizz and hairspray around her face, there was always a shimmer to them. She‘d trimmed her own bangs last night, after you had brought a girl home that had sworn she could foresee the future for her. The poor thing turned out to be just an unassuming dyke really into tarot, not a single actually magical bone in her body for Agatha to siphon.The witch had sighed in frustration after chasing the frightened girl out, who probably wasn’t going to let a stranger on the corner lure her into ominous Plattenbauten apartments again any time soon. In a way, Agatha joked over a bottle of cheap wine, you‘d done her a favour. But still, twenty minutes later she’d emerged from the bathroom, a set of scissors still in hand.

Now, in the greyish morning light of the cloudy Berlin November, you noticed the trim wasn’t exactly even. You should definitely fix that some time today. The view made you chuckle, a sound that finally motivated Agatha to surrender to the world and open her eyes, even if she just blinked up at you, licking her lips, dry from sleep.

„Good Morning“, you purred as she slowly sat up, one hand running through her wild, unkempt hair before the other pulling the blanket with her, staying wrapped up in it’s warmth as her head came to rest on your shoulder.

„Morning“, she grumbled back, voice still raspy, and took one of the mugs you were still balancing in your hands from you. One whiff of the steaming liquid, and her lips curled into a soft smile, glancing over at you. Two sugar cubes, minimal splash of milk, exactly how she loved it. „Thank you“, she hummed, taking her first sip, „To what do I owe the pleasure? Did I miss our anniversary?“

You chuckled and shook your head at that, putting your own coffee down on your nightstand, next to the ashtray already halfway filled with cigarette buds and burnt out joints.

„Nothing like that“, you assured her, hand shuffling around the nightstand without leaning over too far, so you wouldn’t disrupt Agatha’s head still resting on your shoulder. „I just felt bad you didn’t get the power up you wanted last night, so I thought I’d surprise you. I was gonna make eggs too but someone emptied the box and didn’t put them on the grocery list.“

Your fingers found the pack of Marlboros, pulling a single cigarette out and placing the filter between your lips as you glanced over at Agatha. One look at your best pleading face, eyes wide and bottom lip pushed forward, and she rolled her eyes, your cigarette lighting up in a little spark of purple.

Taking a satisfied first drag, you slid down on the mattress a little, just enough to wrap your arm around her waist under the blanket, pulling her warm body further into you.

„Just wait a few years and everyone will realise those things are poison and turn their back on them“, Agatha said, her own arm draping over you, head now on your chest, where she continued sipping her coffee.

Her thigh found its way to lay on top of your legs, and smoke got stuck in your throat at the feeling of her warm, bare skin against yours. Trying your best to act nonchalant, you attempted to swallow down the little cough burning in your lungs. With her ear right at your chest, Agatha obviously noticed , and she gave you a knowing smile.

“Pure Poison." She repeated, eyes never leaving yours as she sat up to put her cup down. The blanket fell off her shoulders, and revealed that she was in fact wearing nothing underneath. Her bare, milky skin bright in the morning light, back stretching to reach over to her nightstand. You swallowed hard, eyes running down her spine. Every little curve of her body from where dark curls fell over her shoulders down to where the blanket concealed her tailbone. She was breathtaking, especially in the morning light, with her hair wild and untamed, muscles flexing as she stretched herself awake, little wrinkles around her eyes. Oh, her eyes. The brightest, most vibrant shade of blue in this entire city, maybe the world.

„Enjoying the view?“, the same blue twinkled at you with amusement when you glanced up, blood rushing into your cheeks at her knowing smirk. She turned back to face you, her naked form on full display. She’d never been the prudent type, lounging on the bed or the couch in nothing but her robe plenty of times, always smirking to herself when you did a bad job at trying not to stare.

Right now, you didn’t even think about trying. You attempted another drag from your cigarette, eyes wandering slowly up her body, from the dark patch of curls between her thighs over the little trail of hair up her tummy. With your current routine of late mornings and long evenings, often dancing the night away at SOUND or at secret parties in warehouses around the city, she’d developed a fine outline of abs, muscles that tensed when you ran your fingers over them, that were firm against your back when you pressed yourself against her in the middle of a packed dance floor. There was a scar on her ribs that you hadn’t had the courage to ask about yet. Her body was littered in scars, souvenirs and memories of a long life lived, but whenever you asked she always just gave the same answers.

Encounters with death.

You never pushed her to say more. She valued your kindness and you valued her privacy.

Right now, your eyes dragged further up her body past her scars anyway. Pale morning light illuminated her bare chest, ner nipples rosy and peaked against the cool air, the slight breeze from the open window. The curve of round flesh, a faint little bite mark on the underside of her right breast. You felt your mouth water at the sight, licking your lips like a starving dog.

Agatha chuckled, mischief in her eyes. One of her hands reached out to you, long fingers brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before hooking under your chin, forcing you to look up at her.

“Are you gonna answer my question or do i have to make you?” Her voice dropped low, that breathy, heavy tone swinging in it that let you know she knew exactly what was going on in your head. And that she wanted you, too.

You swallowed, hard. “Just thinking about breakfast, actually.” You lied, and the roll of Agatha’s eyes was theatrical.

With one quick movement, she swung her leg over yours, leaving the last bit of blanket that covered her behind for good. Now she was straddling your lap, one hand on your shoulder, pushing you back against the headboard. You hit the metal frame with a thud, air leaving your lungs in a soft groan. The metal was cold against your exposed shoulder blades, pinned to it by a firm palm on your chest.

Her other hand found the cigarette between your lips, tips of her fingers brushing over your bottom lip. You surrendered it to her immediately, lips parting in a surprised little gasp, and she took the opportunity to take the cigarette and stump it out on the ashtray beside you.

„You know I hate the taste of those“, she sighed, hand returning to cup your cheek, thumb resting just below your bottom lip.

„’m sorry“, you murmured, staring up at her almost sheepishly, pupils blown out wide. The last few dancing tendrils of smoke evaporated through your nose, not wanting to blow any into her face. A small cough rumbled in your throat, but you managed to suppress it.

Once that was gone, you pushed your chin forward, lips parting to meet hers in a heated kiss. But her palm on your chest was firm, keeping you just out of reach. At the little pout you gave her, the corners of Agatha’s mouth turned upwards into a sly little smirk.

“Not so fast”, she hummed, head tilting to the side ever so slightly, “I thought we were doing breakfast in bed?”

“Agathaaa!” Your pout intensified, trying to push against her hold to connect your lips again. She laughed, a sound so low in her throat it made your skin crawl. You felt her hips shift against your lap, a movement so minimal you would have missed it if it wasn’t for the sudden warmth against your bare thigh. The sudden, wet sensation brushing over your skin, Agatha sucking in the tiniest breath. Now it was your turn to smirk.

Both of your hands found her hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh beneath them. With one swift motion, you flipped your positions. Agatha’s back hit the mattress and she gasped, sheets flying at the sudden movement. Your palms pressed her down into the cushions. And you were kneeling between her legs, which were still loosely wrapped around your own hips, knees pushed up. When her eyes found yours, they were dark, lashes fluttering as she inhaled sharply.

“I see how it is”, she breathed, hands finding your lower arms, fingers dragging over the rough fabric of your sweater. Upwards, over your elbows, touch so fleeting it almost made you ticklish, shuddering even through your clothing. Her palms ran over your shoulders, past the collar of your shirt where finally, you felt her skin on skin. Her fingertips, hot to the touch teased over your neck, palming your jaw with both hands, thumbs on your lower lip. Instinctively, your mouth opened to let her fingers enter. Agatha chuckled at that, instead opting to rest her thumbs just beside each corner of your mouth instead, leaving your mouth hanging open but empty.

You licked your lips in an attempt to play down your frustration, sucking your lower lip in to gently bite down onto the soft flesh. You were practically trembling with want beneath her palms.

“Agatha plea—”

“Shhh baby”, Agatha leaned back against the pillow, hair sprawled out around her face like a dark halo. Her chest rose and fell evenly, and if it wasn’t for the heat radiating off her skin, for the slight flush of her cheeks, she’d look almost casual. Too casual for how your breath came rattling, how your stomach was turning and you could feel your legs shake just the slightest bit with anticipation.

One of Agatha’s legs stretched out behind you and for a moment you gave her a look of confusion. But then, you felt something shift underneath you. She’d kicked one of the crocheted throw pillows scattered across the bed between your legs, right underneath where you were dripping with want. Her brows now raised expectantly at you. Releasing your lip from between your teeth in a sharp gasp, you slowly lowered yourself down until you were resting on top of the pillow. The fabric was rough against you, immediately soaking up some of your liquid heat as you settled down. God, your skin was practically burning up. It took everything in your power not to just grind down against it until you came right now. The thought was certainly tantalising. Instead, you held perfectly still, shivering with anticipation, eyes wide and dark as they stared up at Agatha, awaiting her instructions. It was no secret that she liked to be in control, and it was nothing new that you let her, every beat of your heart aiming to please her.

Watching you hold yourself perfectly still for her, Agatha nodded, lips pursed with satisfaction. “That’s my baby.”

Her legs hooked over your shoulders, caging your head in between her soft, milky thighs. Warm skin mere inches from your ears, the weight on your shoulders grounding. It made the blood in your head run hot.

“Now”, fingers dug into your hair, nails dragging over your scalp until she got a good grip on your roots. With slight force, she pushed your head down, towards her exposed center. Her whisper was low, but it still rang through you like a prayer as you let her guide your head where she wanted it. “Make Mommy feel good.”

With her legs over your shoulders like this, she left you no option to tease along the soft insides of her thighs first. Instead, with your arms wrapped around her thighs, you leaned down to press one single, closed mouthed kiss right to her centre. The shift in position made your back arch, and your aching clit rubbed against the rough fabric of the pillow you sat on. A sudden, hot wave of pleasure ran through your body, and a loud, needy whine escaped your lips right into Agatha’s dripping core. You felt her legs shift, heels digging into your back.

“Focus, baby”, Agatha’s drawl rang through your head, „Don’t get distracted.“

In response your tongue darted out, parting her drenched folds along its way. You licked from her very core, over her entrance where you could feel her muscles clenching, all the way up to the hood of her clit, dragging the tip of your tongue in a tight circle around the bundle of nerves.

The moan that left Agatha‘s lips shook her entire body, you felt her hands tighten their grip on your hair.

„Yes darling, exactly like that!“

You drew another circle around her clit, your own hips pushing down against the pillow below. The mix of your own stimulation and Agatha’s slick arousal coating your mouth was absolutely maddening. Grinding down against the pillow, you flattened your tongue against her, a deep, guttural moan shaking your body,sending the vibrations right to her clit. Continuing to lap at her most sensitive spot, your eyes flickered up to watch her. Agatha’s head was thrown back, her eyes shut, lips parted as she groaned, beautifully mixing with the wet sounds you were making buried chin deep in her cunt.

You’d have to thank her for the muting runes she’d installed on the open windows, otherwise someone walking down the street below your window would have surely heard what you were up to.

As your own cunt dragged back and forth against the pillow beneath you, you could feel the wet stain you’d made already, feel your stomach tighten with each time your hips grinded down in tune with your tongue running through Agatha’s drenched folds. You wouldn’t last much longer, and your hips began to ache.

Unwrapping one of your arms from around Agatha’s thigh, you let your free hand drag over the crease where her thigh met her core. Agatha shuddered at the touch, and you had to grin against her, lips slick with her arousal by now.

Pressing one last kiss to her folds, your tongue teasing probed at her entrance, pushing inside her just a little. Her heels dug into your back harder, making you grunt.

Your index and middle finger dragged up through the mess she’d made, pressing down on her pulsating, swollen bundle of nerves once before running back towards her entrance, collecting slick on their way. Angling your hand just right, you pressed a small kiss to her thigh, relishing in the way her entire body shuddered, her hips pushing up, searching for your contact, desperate for your touch.

Your stomach twisted at the sight, losing the rhythm of your own hips grinding down for a moment.

Unable to wait any longer, you leaned back down, lips wrapping around her clit at the same time as your fingers slid into her, meeting no resistance on their way.

Agatha’s moan was guttural, from deep down within her, and the sound sent a hot wave of pleasure right down your spine. You began to suck, tongue swirling around her clit like you were exploring it for the first time, and your fingers began to pump in and out of her in sync with your own hips grinding down against the pillow.

Your fingers curled upwards inside her, tips dragging over her walls, feeling her muscles tightening and releasing against you. With each thrust you pushed in just a little further, just a little bit harder, poking that one spot of spongy flesh that made her scream out your name.

The louder her gasps and moans got, the more you felt blinded by pleasure. Your body was moving on its own, rusty bed frame creaking beneath you, your spine tingled with the promise of release. Agatha’s hips pushed up into you, her grip vice like in your hair as she pushed you down against herself harder. And then the last twine holding her together snapped. She pressed your face tightly against herself, hips stuttering as your fingers pressed inside her, thighs shaking as she rode out her orgasm on your face.

Your eyes were shut, it was hard to breathe in this position. All you could taste or smell was Agatha, feel her thighs clench around your head, her moans ringing through your ears. And the feeling of all of your senses being overtaken by Agatha’s release, your hips pushed down against the pillow once more before your own peak overtook you.

Warmth pooled in your stomach before spreading in your entire body, pleasure climbed up your entire spine, the moan you released into Agatha’s cunt made the woman beneath you shiver.

Finally, her legs loosened around your head, and she tugged you away from her swollen, drenched cunt, still shaking from slight overstimulation. You released her clit from your lips with a wet pop, flat tongue licking up her entire core one more time, collecting as much of her release as you could. Eyes never leaving hers, you closed your lips and swallowed, humming at the taste of her. It was divine.

You gently pulled your fingers out with a wet sound.

After a moment, Agatha’s eyes watched your every more, sky blue and darkened and still overtaken with pleasure. Sweat glistened on her brow, but it was nothing compared to your chin drenched in her desire, to her juices coating your lips.

You felt a slight tug in your hair when Agatha pulled you up towards her.

Crawling up her body on shaky limbs proved slightly awkward, especially when Agatha tugged you towards her with both hands, cradling your face. The moment you were in reach, she surged forward, pressing her lips to yours. It was gentle and soft but you still felt an urgency lying underneath. A need to claim you, to remind both of you that you were here, with her, and that you weren’t going anywhere. You let her lick herself off your lips, falling against the mattress next to her, limbs entangled and arms wrapped tightly around her.

When she had to pull away to let both of you breathe, you couldn’t help but grin at her. “Hi.“

Her eyes scanned your face in disbelief, and then she rolled her eyes. „Good morning to you too“, she chuckled, brushing a few strands of hair stuck to your forehead back, her hand now gently running through where she’d tugged and pulled mere moments ago. You let out a content little sigh at her gentle touch. „I could do this all day“, you hummed, pulling her closer by her wait, until you rested skin on skin.

One of Agatha’s legs swung over yours, pulling you even closer.

„Well“, she purred, leaning forward to nip at the soft skin just beneath your ear, „I have no other plans for the day.“

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #berry writes things #agatha harkness x reader #aaa #wandavision #agatha coven of chaos

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