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julietsf1 · 1 month ago

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Focus with Franco - Franco Colapinto x Reader

summary: Studying for exams is tough, but trying to focus while your yapper boyfriend, Franco, is around? Impossible. (2k words)

content: cute yapper franco, wholesome vibes only

AN: work starts again next week so I'm writing so much in advance rn!! I have this super cute halloween fic I can't wait to post ^_^

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I'm seated at my usual table in the cozy corner of my favorite café, surrounded by textbooks, notes, and a half-empty cup of coffee. It’s test week, and the weight of impending deadlines presses heavily on my shoulders. Normally, this is my sanctuary, a place where I can zone in and get things done, but today is different. Today, I have a very lively distraction sitting across from me—my boyfriend, Franco.

He insisted on joining me today, claiming he wanted to spend time with me, even if it meant sitting quietly while I studied. But quiet and Franco? Those two things don’t exactly go hand in hand. From the moment he sat down, his restless energy has been evident—he’s bouncing his leg under the table, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the surface, and stealing glances at the pastry display every chance he gets.

I hadn’t seen Franco in what felt like forever. Between my busy university schedule and his constant travels, the time we spent together had been scarce. I missed the ease of hanging out, the silly conversations, and his infectious laugh. So, when he suggested coming along to “keep me company” during my study session, I couldn’t really say no. I was excited to see him, even if I knew his presence would make focusing a challenge.

"Do you think I should get another cappuccino? Maybe a hot chocolate? Ooh, or one of those caramel lattes!" Franco muses out loud, glancing over at the counter. His eyes flicker to the pastries in the display case, and he grins mischievously. "Or maybe something sweet? You need brain fuel, right?"

"Franco, I’m trying to focus," I reply, smiling despite myself. He’s so effortlessly charming that even when he’s distracting me, I can’t be annoyed.

“I know, I know. You’re in full-on study mode,” he says, putting his hands up in mock surrender. "Silent as a shadow, I promise. Just here for moral support. Quiet, calm moral support. You wouldn’t even notice I’m here." He mimics zipping his lips and leans back, a mischievous glint still dancing in his green eyes.

“Right,” I say, fighting back a laugh. “Completely invisible.”

In truth, he’s anything but invisible. His presence is like a ray of sunshine on an otherwise cloudy day—warm, bright, and impossible to ignore. Even now, as I glance over my notes, I can hear him humming softly to himself, tapping his foot to some imaginary beat. His energy is contagious, but not exactly the kind that helps me get through chapters of academic content.

“You’re staring at your notes, but I don’t think you’re reading them,” he teases after a few minutes of quiet.

I let out a sigh, finally looking up from the page I’ve been pretending to focus on. “I’m trying. You’re just... a little distracting.”

His expression shifts to one of mock innocence. “Me? Distracting? You are offending me, cariño.”

I shake my head, amused by his puppy-like energy. Franco, with his boundless enthusiasm and natural charm, is impossible to resist. He’s always buzzing with ideas, questions, and random thoughts, much like a Labrador puppy who can’t sit still but is too cute to be annoyed at.

“I could help,” he continues, nodding at my books. “You explain it to me, and I’ll quiz you. I’m a great study partner, you know.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I chuckle. “I’m pretty sure you’d turn every question into something about racing or capybaras.”

Franco leans back and says with a playful sigh, “Ay, qué optimista eres,” (Oh, you’re so optimistic), giving me a grin that says he knows exactly how distracting he’s being.

I laugh, rolling my eyes at him, while he beams, leaning back in his chair, clearly proud of himself.

“Okay, maybe not racing. But capybaras? I could totally work with that. Did you know capybaras are basically the chillest animals ever?”

“See? Exactly my point,” I laugh. “I need to focus, Franco.”

He gives me a mock serious look, leaning forward again. “Okay, okay. I’ll be quiet. Silent. Like a... capybara.”

I try to hold back my smile, but it’s no use. He’s too endearing. As much as I need to study, it’s hard to be upset with Franco. He’s always so full of life, always so positive and uplifting. Being around him makes everything feel lighter, even during stressful times like test week.

After a few more failed attempts at reading the same paragraph, I finally sigh in defeat, setting my pen down. “Maybe I should’ve just stayed at the library…”

Franco’s face lights up, his grin spreading wide. “Nooo, come on! I’m helping, I promise! You need breaks, right? How about we take a little walk? Ice cream maybe? You’ll study better after some fresh air.”

“Franco…”

“Ice cream solves everything,” he says, not missing a beat. “You’ve been working hard! A quick break won’t hurt.”

I look at him, seeing that spark of excitement in his eyes. He’s like a puppy, always ready for fun, always eager to make me smile. And, as much as I want to get through my study session, part of me knows he’s right. A break might actually help.

“Fine,” I agree, starting to gather up my things. “But we’re getting back to work after, okay?”

“Of course,” he nods enthusiastically. “Ice cream first, study later.”

As soon as I stand, Franco’s on his feet, taking my bag from me before I even reach for it. “I’ve got it,” he says with a playful wink, throwing it over his shoulder like it’s no big deal. “This is what I’m here for—moral support and bag-carrying services.”

I roll my eyes, but a smile tugs at my lips as I follow him out of the café. The afternoon sun greets me as I step outside, its warmth a welcome contrast to the cool café air. Franco grabs my hand, swinging it lightly as we walk down the street toward the ice cream shop.

“So, what flavor are you getting?” he asks, already deep in thought about his own choice. “I’m thinking something with chocolate. Or maybe caramel? Or both! You can never go wrong with both.”

I chuckle at his enthusiasm. “You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you?”

“I mean, it’s ice cream. You can’t just make these decisions lightly,” he says, completely serious.

After we both get our ice creams—Franco, as predicted, goes for a mix of chocolate and caramel—we stroll toward the nearby park. The sound of children playing and dogs barking fills the air, and for a moment, the world feels simple and carefree.

Franco, of course, is still talking. He’s switched from ice cream to racing, then to a random story about a funny moment at a team meeting. His thoughts flow effortlessly from one topic to another, like a stream that never runs dry.

“Did you know,” he says between bites of his ice cream, “that capybaras are basically friends with everyone? They even let other animals hang out with them, like birds and monkeys. They’re so cool.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Why are you so obsessed with capybaras today?”

He shrugs, a playful grin on his face. “They’re fascinating creatures. Plus, I feel like they’re the perfect animal to study when you’re stressed. All chill and unbothered by anything.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I say, nudging him gently with my elbow.

“But you love me,” he replies, his voice softening.

“I do,” I admit, leaning into him as we walk. “Even if you’re the biggest distraction ever.”

The two of us finish our ice creams as the sun begins to set, casting a warm glow over the park. Franco slips his arm around me, pulling me closer as we walk in comfortable silence for a while. Despite the fact that I didn’t get much studying done, I feel lighter, more relaxed. The stress of test week seems distant now, overshadowed by the simple joy of spending time with him.

“We’ll really hit the books tomorrow,” Franco says after a few moments, his voice quieter now. “I’ll help you, and we’ll crush it.”

I smile, knowing full well that tomorrow will likely involve just as many distractions. But with Franco, everything feels a little easier, a little more fun.

“Deal,” I say, squeezing his hand. “But I’ll need complete focus tomorrow, no distractions.”

Franco grins mischievously. “I can’t promise that, but I can promise ice cream breaks whenever you need them.” He winks, and with that, I know tomorrow will be just as productive—and just as perfect.

#f1 x reader #fc43 x reader #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto fanfic #formula 1 imagine

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maxlarens · 4 months ago

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OP: i can’t complain but i will

pairing(s): oscar piastri x mercedes driver!reader; oscar piastri & driver!reader & lando norris; lando norris x oscar piastri

word count: 2.4k+

an: here’s a little bit of angst a little bit of fluff and me holding myself back from making osc x reader x lan a poly ship😭 disclaimer: this isn’t an accurate reflection of the events of the Hungary GP. i take creative liberties as usual! and sorry to lewis. it’s still a mercedes P3 i guess😭 also here are my thoughts on the race so nothing is misconstrued here. AND gif credit because it keeps disappearing!

I. I choked on such longing I couldn’t spit out

Oscar crosses the finish line in Hungary and it’s fine.

It’s fine.

Y’know, fine in the way where there’s this feeling in his chest. This thing gnawing at his insides. At his gut. And maybe it’s his helmet, maybe it’s the temperature, but there’s something on his cheeks. Heat. Something burning. Maybe.

His mind goes immediately to those clips he’d seen of Lando’s onboard in Miami. The shrill little giggles, the high-pitch of his teammates voice, the cheer of the crowd faintly in the background. Crackle hiss—

No one’s cheering for Oscar—

Tom is on the radio.

Oscar’s not stupid, not by a long shot. He can hear the strained quality of it, the forced cheerfulness.

Yeah. Oscar apologises before he can think twice about it. It just slips out of him. He thinks of you telling him— on a Tuesday night two weeks ago— that he needed to “stop saying sorry so fucking much, Oscar”. The way he’d been distracted by his name in your mouth. Oscar. Not Osc like he’s used to, or the occasional Oscie you’re prone to throw out. Oscar. Like you were serious.

Whatever. He says something to Tom that his publicist would be proud of. Waves at the grandstands. Tries not to think, not like this. I didn’t want it like this.

A sigh leeches out of him. Lando’s car is in his periphery and you’re trailing behind him as the three of you turn. The three of you on a podium… it’s a dream come true for him. But— yeah— not like this.

He’s in the car for too long. Helmet on his head, where no one can see his face. He’s okay, he thinks. He’s fine.

He thinks of being a little kid at Albert Park. Watching F1 in the living room late at night. Getting in a kart for the first time and feeling alive. And okay—

Yes, there’s a sour taste in his mouth. Words unsaid sitting on his tongue. But he’s starting to feel the smile tugging at his lips. The feeling is his chest starts to ease, just a little. Just a bit.

He’s looking up and there’s you and there’s Lando. You’re on opposite sides of the car, Lando’s reaching for him, for his hand. Clutching it tightly. Lando squeezes once, his helmet covered face bobs in a nod that says something… part of Oscar hopes it’s I’m sorry. Another part of him is mad that it may not be.

And you, well you have no idea the half hour he’s just had. But your hand is on his shoulder and then on the top of his helmet and you’re whacking it with a gusto he hadn’t expected. He thinks you might be crying. You keep reaching in through your visor to wipe at your eyes and it’s making Oscar feel sick. You’re crying and he’s sitting here feeling sorry for himself because the win wasn’t perfect.

Fuck.

So Oscar grins and he bears it.

He gets out of the car and he smooths it over until everything is okay again. Because that’s what he’s good at. Because that’s how he’s made it here. Oscar Piastri is a team player, sometimes more than he is anything else. And that’s okay, that’s fine for now, because one day, eventually, Oscar is going to be the reason they need to hire a team player. One day he’ll be the beating heart of some Formula One team and he won’t have to win a race because his teammate had to let him by—

That’s not Lando’s fault either. Lando is…

He’s Lando. Oscar gets it.

Oscar gets it more than anyone.

II. I am obsessive. I contain nothing but the replay

Lando is trying so fucking hard not to have a tantrum.

It’s this infuriating feedback loop where he thinks I had it and then something cuts in to say but Oscar deserved it and then it starts over again. It’s making Lando feel like shit, for losing, for being a bad friend, for jeopardising the relative peace of the team. He’s trying to temper the angry, selfish little spoiled brat voice in his head but it’s so fucking hard to keep that dog on a leash.

He’s trying to be okay.

He’s in the post-race room with you and he’s trying to be fine.

And okay, so he knocks the stupid second place cap to the ground in front of the camera that’s broadcasting you guys to the world. Always second. God. He’d tasted a win in Miami and it’s almost like he’s worse off for it. It’s a win or it’s nothing and it’s tearing him apart from the inside out. There’s a voice in his head that’s saying, you’re just a one trick pony, Lando. Do it again and you might be worth something.

It’s making him crazy.

He bites his tongue. Turns to look at you, lounging in the third place chair like it doesn’t matter, like you’re happy to just be on the podium.

You raise an eyebrow at him, face blank but he knows what it says anyway. Be happy for him. He would be happy for you.

Fuck, and he would—

He would. Selfless and kind above all, Oscar.

Lando frowns, his back to the lens.

Your gaze flicks from him, to the hat on the floor. Pick it up, it says. Pick it up and pretend.

Lando picks it up. He’s the one who gave Oscar the position back after all. He’s his own worst enemy right now. Not you, certainly not Oscar—

Speaking of Oscar.

He’s here. He’s holding the first place cap that Lando wants to be his, he’s putting it on his head and Lando’s okay. Lando’s fine. He’s watching the race replay and seeing Max turn into your car and he’s trying desperately to look at that, pay attention to that, and not Oscar.

Because it hurts.

Not in a good way, not the way Lando looks at him sometimes and feels some yawning sun in his chest.

Instead there’s something bitter and snarling.

Some chained, angry dog on a leash.

Lando turns, goes to sit in the chair he doesn’t want to sit in, and catches Oscar’s eye. He feels the snarling thing strain, it goes to bark, to bite. Then Oscar smiles. It’s not much— it doesn’t reach his eyes exactly. But it’s effort. It’s thank you. It’s I know what that meant.

It’s enough.

III. He forgives you, dogs are like that, so loyal

You know something is off the second that you get out of the car. This isn’t what Oscar’s maiden win is supposed to look like— or it almost is, but the picture is wrong.

It’s not ecstatic, it’s not crowds chanting his name, it’s not Oscar getting out of the car like a shot and jumping into the arms of his team.

Instead, you see grim faces plastered over with smiles, McLaren engineers huddled into groups and talking in hushed tones. Lando’s sulking, you can tell by the set of his shoulders, the way people hover around him, keeping their distance a bit. You blink— there’s something in your eyes, your nose tingling with some emotion—

Whatever. You push it aside, go to Oscar’s car before anything else, before even taking your helmet off. It's you and Lando on opposite sides and whatever the case, whatever happened out there that you're not aware of, Lando's here. Lando's sucking it up.

You find out bits and pieces over the next hour, from your race engineer, from the post-race interviews, from Lando's attitude in the cool down room. The tension between them is bleeding into everything and they orbit around each other all afternoon. They can't quite look at each other, they keep making eye contact for a split second and then letting it slide away. They keep smiling these strained things at each other. Lando keeps reaching out to touch Oscar, but always at arms length. Like an apology neither of them can quite commit to.

You know it's the team that are the issue and it's also this hurt that Lando can't quite get over, and an Oscar who is trying to just be happy but needs more time to get there.

It's making your heart ache.

You've dreamt of this, stupidly enough. Oscar on the top step of the podium, that bunny-tooth grin of his spreading and spreading. Champagne and confetti. You're there, of course you're there. Lando is too. So it's painful to have that dream actualised and to realise it's not perfect— because, well, nothing ever is.

And it's fucking unfortunate.

But it's them. So it's fine.

You're baffled by that sometimes. You still hold grudges against old teammates. There are things you'll never forgive them for, wounds that will never heal. But you come back from your frustratingly long debrief and find them doubled over outside their driver's room, giggling their heads off at something. It's not perfect, there's still something between them, something in the air.

But they're trying.

And Oscar is smiling wider than you've seen in a long while.

So for Oscar's sake you push it aside—

It's always a little different away from prying eyes, away from rolling cameras, in front of which you feel pressure to act like Oscar and Lando are first and foremost your rivals. When they're gone they can just be your friends. Your boys.

Naturally, you're thudding into Oscar before he really notices you're there. Too busy throwing his head back at something Lando had said. He's still in champagne wet fireproofs as you reach your arms around his shoulders, but so are you. He smells vaguely like a wet dog and lets out a soft oft noise as you charge into him.

"Hey, race winner," you say as he threads his arms around your waist.

You put your forehead on his collarbone, close your eyes as a laugh flutters out of him. You hear it rumble in his chest as he rocks the two of you gently from side to side. It's giggly, light and joyful like the one he does when he's tipsy. But he's not tipsy, just happy you think.

"Race winner," he mumbles, low, quiet, to himself more than anything, "Yeah."

"Yeah," you whisper back.

You're like that maybe for too long. Longer than people who are just friends should be. You can hear Lando moving around behind you, asphalt grinding under his feet. His gaze prickling the back of your neck. Eventually, you pull away. You slide your hands to grip Oscar's shoulders, fingertips pressing into warm skin, lean up and press a kiss to his cheek. Accidentally, your lips land too close to the corner of his mouth, brushing against stubble and sweat. You hear something soft escape his lips, barely audible as his brown eyes bore into yours. Pupils blown large, gaze drifting momentarily down to your lips.

"Good job today, Osc," you say, trying not to let your breath hitch.

You pull away a little before he does something in the heat of the moment— and right in front of Lando, of all people. He's high on adrenaline, that's all. That's all.

"Thank you," he smiles, all teeth.

You feel hot all the way down your neck, into your chest. Hm, premature menopause, you think, rather than the obvious— which is that it makes you mega nervous to be that close to Oscar Piastri.

Lando clears his throat.

In a jerky, surprised movement you step away from Oscar, while Oscar fumbles awkwardly for his phone in his pocket. He holds it up, says something stumbling about calling his family and then takes only maybe five steps away before you or Lando can say a thing.

You laugh, just a little.

Then do a pleased little spin to face Lando.

Who seems better, lighter. At least in comparison to how he was immediately post-race. Which you’re glad to see. Especially after catching bits of his team radio from a brief conversation with George. You’re not particularly happy about it, but it’s not really your place to be upset.

“Hey,” you smile warmly.

He smiles back, tighter than you’d hoped.

You move a bit closer into his personal space, watching him carefully. It’s okay you think. He’s more subdued than usual, but you can’t see the seething thing that was under his skin earlier. That would be fine of course, he’s entitled to that, but his sake you’re glad it’s gone.

“You okay?”, you ask.

Lando nods, eyes falling closed momentarily as he hums contemplatively, “‘M okay. Happy for him.”

You nod, stepping closer to pull him into a one armed hug that’s not quite as energetic as the one you’d given Oscar before.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, pressing the side of your face into his cheek, “Upset too?”

He hums again, sighs, “Yeah. ‘Course.”

“Yeah,” because you get it,

Maybe not in these exact circumstances. But you know what it’s like. To chase a win with everything you have, to fall short after it’s been in your grasp. You understand that. So does Oscar—

Speaking of.

Oscar’s back, footsteps crunching asphalt behind you.

“They’re asleep,” he explains, “I’ll talk to them later.”

You half let Lando go, moving to accommodate the race winner into your little circle. They’re a bit weird about it, shuffling into place awkwardly, you’re not surprised after a day like today, but you persevere— wrapping arms around both of them and pulling them simultaneously down into a haphazard hug that you’re in the middle of.

Lando’s face is in your neck somehow, mumbling something about you being overbearing while his hand clutches at your waist to keep himself upright. Oscar’s arm is tight around your shoulders and your face is squished up against his chest. You squeeze tightly— let them go when it’s been a minute too long—

You can feel yourself almost getting caught up in the tangle of limbs. The warmth of your friends. The emotion of it. You think there’s something stuck in your eye again, something wet in your tear ducts.

You sniff, try to ignore it, hope they don’t see.

Then, stupid observant Oscar, “Are you crying?”

You let out an offended noise and shake your head to deny it, but instead something that’s almost a sob, but not quite, slips out—

“No,” you declare, but it’s unconvincing—

and then you’re back in the hug. All sweat and sticky champagne residue, Lando’s too-strong cologne and Oscar who smells like burnt rubber. And it’s not perfect, because nothing ever is, but it’s enough for you.

this was really cathartic for me to be honest. just needed my little driver!reader to hug landoscar after that race. needed to get some big feelings out and then needed a sweet little fluff section to make me feel better.

ALSO DISCLAIMER: this was a work of FICTION it does not reflect the entirety of what i feel about the events of the hungary gp. i am simply playing with dolls! thank you and goodbye!

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x driver!reader #lando norris & oscar piastri #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #oneshots:op81 #oneshots:481 #driver!reader

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vampiresbloodx · 4 months ago

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Based on this post!.

Your beloved Natasha.

avenger!gf!Natasha Romanoff! x civilian!cafe!owner!reader.

Trigger warnings: some negative self talk, mental health issues mentioned, slight homophobia, nevertheless, a sweetness overload off fluff.

Natasha Romanoff, the romantic she ever is at heart, who wouldn't show that to anyone but you and you only. Her beloved. Her light. Her everything.

Surprises you a visit at your work, you've already complained to her jokingly that your co workers are all gossiping about the one and only avenger the famous black widow coming to the cafe just to see you and flirt with you constantly, that they are suspecting more between the two of you and you can't hide forever. Nat likes it though and loves to tease you about it.

She understands where you're coming from though. She hears your worries and concerns, Nat will happily sit there and listen to you talk about everything and anything for hours upon hours, holding you close, reassuring you as many times as she can to bring ease to you. But she gets it. She knows when you're actually serious and want to discuss important stuff with her, she will be by your side regardless, and make sure not to let anything bad happen to her beloved.

(this girl will straight up kill for you.)

As she comes into your work, with a bright, cocky smile, seeing you immediately at the counter with a raised eyebrow at her as if you don't look happy to see her, which you definitely are. Your cheeks burn as customers look at her, even though she doesn't go on press a lot or talk as much to the public as captain America does, she's still pretty well known. The kids especially know her and love her, even the elders are fond of your Natasha, and you find that incredibly sweet as you know she has those thoughts that get to her in the dark of night when it's her brain being mean to her, telling her that everyone would be fine without her here. And you're always there to kiss those mean thoughts away, making sure she knows how loved and safe she is.

As she greets you with a kiss, doesn't care who's watching, she smiles at you.

"I have a surprise for you when you come home tonight" she suggests with a small smirk.

God you're already flustered mess already, as you try to gather your words to speak.

"what's the occasion? I would have known if it's your birthday or a gala or our anniversary."

She shakes her head with a soft look on her face.

"none of those, don't worry моя любовь." She mutters sweetly, wanting to kiss you more as her eyes go down to your lips.

She's really not subtle, is she?.

Sadly, the moment is ended quicker than you both had hoped as a customer interrupts you two.

"uh sorry, can I get my order?" He asked, clearly looking uncomfortable.

Natasha fought the urge to roll her eyes, so did you.

You nodded at her, as she knew what you meant and walked away after sending you a wink.

Your cheeks burned hotter than the sun.

"yes, hi, what can I get you?."

You weren't too shocked to see Natasha waiting for you, already at the front door as she heard you coming from a mile away (you're not sure how she knows, but you appreciate it) and immediately you're greeted with her lips.

"hmf! Hi!" You mumbled through the kiss as you laughed, placing your hands on her hips.

Her hands traveled up your body, practically groping you as she grabbed at your ass from behind, causing you to let out a squeal.

"baby" you whined.

"sorry, can't help myself when you look that good."

"I smell like shit" you pouted.

"still I'd eat you" she said proudly, walking away as your eyes widened at her.

You shake your head, letting out a chuckle as you chase after her.

But before you could fully see what was happening, she covered your eyes with her hands.

"don't peak, sweetheart" she murmured, her voice sending a chill down your spine.

You bit down on your lip, humming as she lead you through your home.

She ended up making you sit down on what you assumed was a chair, maybe the dining table? Who knows. You were so tempted to open your eyes, just to disobey her, play with her, but you knew something about tonight felt special, yet every night and day with her was special.

It was never a dull moment.

"open."

You hear her say, you happily do so.

The first thing you saw was red roses. Which, you liked the romantic gesture from her, but then you saw more and more flowers all piled neatly into a bouquet. It was beautiful. Of course, Nat would wait all day for you just to treat you to something sweet like this. It was worth it.

Your eyes started to well up with tears.

"honey? Are you okay?-" she immediately got up, worried look on her pretty face as you fought back the urge to cry.

"I'm fine I'm fine, I just. No one has ever done this to me before. I'm just. Overwhelmed. Not in a bad way, it's a good overwhelming feeling" you choked back a sob, looking into her eyes. "God I love you so much."

She smiles, pressing her lips to yours and pulling you in closer.

"I love you more than anything."

Later during the night, as you're wrapped up in a warm blanket, covering you and Natasha as her arms were over your shoulder, and you felt warm and happy inside, you couldn't even focus on the movie, only just her, and the bouquet of flowers that were placed on the dining table, where they'd get plenty of sun.

"I'm curious of what the type of flowers you choose mean" you randomly asked her.

"hmm? Oh, well, I didn't really think all that through -" she said, looking embarrassed as she scratched the back of her neck shyly, you chuckled, kissing her cheek.

"I still love it, it's just interesting what you picked. Even if you didn't mean to, it means a lot to me, I absolutely love it."

She blushes.

#black widow x reader #black widow x y/n #black widow x you #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine

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renecdote · 7 months ago

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rebirth

Bi Buck cured my writers block, please have this short little episode coda for 7x04. [Read on AO3]

It’s after one a.m. when the light, bubbly excitement in his stomach sours, fear creeping in. Buck’s next breath sticks in his chest, his heart races, his fingers start tingling, and it’s so much like what kissing Tommy did to him, but for all the wrong reasons this time. His phone screen is suddenly too bright in the darkness, his search history a towering mess of questions, and Reddit threads, and quizzes he clicked into then out of before he could finish taking them.

The problem, he thinks, is that it felt so right. Tommy tilted his chin up and pressed their lips together and it felt like—himself, for the first time in… forever, maybe. Buck doesn’t know what he’s meant to do with that. Go out on Saturday night, maybe (hopefully) kiss Tommy again (and again and again and again), but then… But then?

He wants to call Eddie because he always wants to call Eddie. He wants to blurt out all the things he kept under his tongue when he apologised earlier. He wants to hear Eddie say his name, soft and warm and knowing, because if anyone can make him feel seen and heard and at home in his own skin, it’s Eddie. He wants so hard it’s almost painful.

But it’s the middle of the night, he can’t call Eddie.

He can’t call Maddie either. She would answer, he knows, and she’d have just the right words for the spiralling anxiety that’s sucking him in, but he’s not going to scare her with the phone ringing in the middle of the night. There have been too many calls like that that have only been bad news.

He won’t worry Hen or Bobby with a call like that either.

And as much as Buck wants to confide in them, wants to crack his chest open and show his family what has been inside the whole time, there’s another part of him that doesn’t want to share. Not yet. He feels like the newborn calves he saw at the ranch in Montana, young and fragile and unsteady as he tries to find his feet. The world suddenly feels bigger. Brighter. And it’s exciting, it’s freeing, but he can’t help feeling daunted, like he might get lost if he’s not careful.

“Bisexual,” he says aloud, just to hear himself say it, to taste the way it feels on his tongue not just as a word but as an identity. It feels like an exhalation, trembling at the edges but not just with fear, or excitement, but with relief. He thinks of that first breath of air when his head came above water in the tsunami, he thinks of being struck by lightning, he thinks of stepping into Station 118 for the first time, he thinks of catching the Jeep keys Maddie tossed him in the dark of a Hershey street all those years ago. Buck knows what it is like to be reborn, but he has never had a kiss make him feel like this before.

Did the first time you kissed a girl feel like this? he wants to ask Hen. Does it feel like this every time?

Is this the magic you were talking about when you first met Shannon? he wants to ask Eddie.

I figured it out, he wants to tell Bobby. I figured out what being at ease with myself feels like.

He has a shift in six and a half hours, but sleep feels as impossible as it did when he first climbed into bed. Buck lifts a hand to trace his lips in his dark, reliving the memory of Tommy there. He imagines Tommy everywhere else too, trailing his hand down his body, fitting Tommy into all the places a few dozen women have touched before. He feels like a teenager, giddy at just the thought of sex—of everything—and he exhales a laugh in the dark.

Buck opens his phone again and sends a text to the one person he knows is on shift and might already be awake: when you said you’d pick me up on Saturday, you meant in the chopper right?

Tommy replies instantly: those things are a bitch to park

And a second later: maybe on the third date

There it is again: breath stuttering, heart racing, fingers tingling. Buck wonders if this is what it feels like to get behind the controls and fly. He grins at his phone. He can’t wait to find out.

#Evan Buckley #911 abc #911 Spoilers #fic

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oneforthemunny · 6 months ago

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what we do in the shadows |familiar!eddie munson x vampire!reader|

prompt: eddie is your familiar, but sometimes, he can be more than just your supernatural servant.

based off the fx show, what we do in the shadows. a little au version with eddie and the gang from hawkins :)

contains: au. familiar!eddie, vampire!reader. mentions of murder. vampire things. blood. types of vampires (energy vampire lol). mean! bitchy! reader. alludes to smut?? sorta smut but not really but slight dom!reader x sub!eddie. language. minors dni.

“Eddie!”

The muffled screech jolted Eddie from his mundane dusting, the feathered duster falling with a heavy thud onto the dark carpet, dust flying in a cloud at his feet. “Son of a bitch,” Eddie huffed, chains of his belt rattling when he bent, snatching the duster off the rug.

“Eddie! Can you not hear me?” The piercing scream echoed through the hallway, echoing off the dark, wallpapered walls. Eddie knew he needed to hurry, that the banging on the coffin’s lid would come next, your fury following for the rest of the day.

“I’m coming, Mistress!” Eddie’s teeth gritted, sliding down the dim, candlelit halls. How this place had managed to not burn down yet, Eddie wasn’t sure. The three of you were careless enough with the candles, always leaving them burning without a care. He supposed it was his job.

“Eddie! Where the fuck is he?” Your muffled tone came from the coffin, black and dramatic in the middle of the room.

“I’m here, I’m here.” Eddie huffed, pushing his bangs back out of his eyes. He needed a haircut, desperately, but with his new career, he supposed that wouldn’t happen anytime soon.

“Finally,” You growled. Eddie was met with your glowing amber eyes narrowing in predatory rage when he lifted the coffin’s heavy lid. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting?” You snapped.

“I’m sorry.” Eddie nodded, swallowing back a snapping comment. “I was dusting down the hall, and I lost track of-”

“-Nevermind.” You snapped, rising quickly into a standing position. “Help me down. I have much to do today.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Eddie stood to the side, offering his hand for you to take as you climbed down. He always wondered why you insisted on being helped out, as if you couldn’t fly out, snap your fingers and be wherever you wanted to be. It was symbolic, he decided, a way to ensure that he knew his place.

Your hand slid into his. His skin tickled when you brushed your long, claw-like nails that were freshly painted every Tuesday. He’d gotten very good at it, Eddie thought. A hiss fell through the room, your hand pulled back with a sizzling burn, teeth bared towards him in threat.

“What- Eddie! What have I told you about those rings?” You pointed accusingly at his rings- silver. It was a habit, to slip them on in the morning, one he hadn’t broken yet. “Are you trying to hurt me?”

“No, no.” Eddie shook his head frantically, tugging the rings off, shoving them in his pocket. “I’m sorry. I-I forgot-”

“-I’m sure you did.” You rolled your eyes, lips pursed in displeasure. “Don’t let it happen again. I burn myself again on those cursed things, and you’ll not have a hand to put them on anymore. Understand?” You clipped, nose in the air as you climbed down, nails digging into his skin just enough to solidify the threat.

“Yes, Mistress.” Eddie swallowed, following the commanding sway of your hips. “I won’t let it happen again.”

“Good.” You chirped. There it was. The whirlwind that was your emotions. Mood swings, Eddie never understood why they called them that until he met you. How you would go from raging to sweet in the bat of an eye. Maybe it came with being a vampire.

“Get my dress.” You waved your hand, the heavy mahogany closet door flinging open with ease.

“Which one were you wanting today?” Eddie swallowed his agitated sigh.

It had been a rough couple of days, the three- fuck, four, of his new found ‘roommates’ had been on a bender of sorts. A bender that would put the rockstars he idolized in high school to shame, much more metal than them. It was fun, Eddie would admit, but it was tiresome. Especially when he was still very much human, and so very exhausted.

“The black one.” You hummed, looking into a mirror you couldn’t see yourself in. Habit, of course, even after all these years.

“They’re all black, Mistress.” Eddie gritted, eyes pinching closed.

“The one with the long sleeves.” You waved him off. “You know the one I like.”

And he did. Eddie knew most everything about you at this point. Which dress you liked, your preference of food source, how many candles you liked lit at a time.

Eddie pushed through the racks, stopping when he saw the velvet garment. It was what you were wearing when he first met you. At the Hideout, where he was still bussing tables, hoping to finally get a weekend gig. You strolled in, magnetic from the moment his eyes laid eyes on you. So… intriguing in your tight velvet dress, fastened with a corset that held you up and in beautifully. Initially, he’d went to try and ask you out, and you’d humored his attempts because you were hungry. Then, after a few hours of conversation, you both decided he’d be a better Familiar than a meal.

“Eddie,” You hissed, breath whistling through your fangs. The sound never failed to make Eddie’s spine tingle, hair raising on the back of his neck in fear. “Have you hit your head? Is that it?”

“No,” Eddie grumbled, pushing the wooden hangers.

“Then what is it? Hm? Why are you dragging your feet today?” You snapped, hands curling around your hips.

“My apologies, Mistress.” Eddie huffed. “I’m just- nevermind. Here. I found it.” Eddie pulled the lacy material, hanging sleeves and bouts of black fabric out of the closet, hanging it on the door for you.

“No, finish what you were going to say.” Your eyes narrowed into his, commanding, but lacking the usual tone of challenge and threat. “You’re what?”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine. Do you need help zipping up this one-”

“-No, answer me, Eddie.” You lifted a finger towards him. “Do not make me use compulsion. I know how groggy and moody you get after it, and I have many plans for today. I’d rather not, but if you’re not going to comply, then I will be forced to-”

“-You don’t have to- Fuck, I’m just tired.” Eddie’s shoulders slumped in defeat, running a hand over his face. “I didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Why?” Your head tilted, lips pursed in curiosity, reaching for the dress before sliding behind the dressing curtain.

“Because,” Eddie tried to focus on the carpet, on the candle wax that dripped off the table, anywhere but the curtain you were behind though he ached for even a silhouetted sliver of your frame. “I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Maybe you should get a coffee?” You peaked over the bamboo wood, a brow lifting in… playfulness?

“I think Robin has the lock box in her room. Ask her for it and go get yourself one.” As if draining a victim of their blood wasn’t enough, Eddie’s career consisted of stealing from them too. It always left him feeling a little uneasy, guilty, robbing the deceased.

“I’m alright. I just need a second to wake up.” Eddie muttered, heel of his palm pressing to his eyes, rubbing so hard he saw stars.

“Fine, but I better not hear one yawn during the house meeting.” You glared, stepping out from behind the dressing curtain. “You know how that irks me. Zip me.”

Eddie stood, one hand holding the top together, pulling the zipper slowly up your spine, finger brushing over your spine. Your skin was cold, like ice, a chilling reminder of what you truly were.

“Last chance.” You turned, swiping your shoes from the floor, discarded from the night before. “Before I go and wake the others.”

“I’m fine.” Eddie nodded softly, lips curling with the hinting of a smile. “Thank you.”

Your lips pursed, shifting at the sudden gratitude. He knew you were about to say something mean, put him down to establish your own dominance, you were predictable that way. “Don’t thank me,” You scoffed. “It’s not for you. I don’t want to hear your yawning.” You scoffed, eyes rolling hard towards him, before you were stomping down the creaking wooden planks of the hall.

The Creel Mansion was still standing strong, despite its abandoned looking exterior. It had been your refuge for years, decades even, since Victor had first brought you there. It was his house before, but now all that remained of him was a portrait at the end of the hall, half covered by a black veil you refused to let Eddie move.

“Robin!” Your shrill tone made Eddie wince, ears ringing at the pitch. “Nancy!”

“What?” Robin groaned, her voice muffled with sleep from the door of her coffin, which you pulled open, uncaring of disrupting her slumber. “What- Why?”

“House meeting. Hurry, before he gets home.” You muttered, turning over your shoulder towards Eddie. “Eddie, go check downstairs. Make sure he didn’t slip in early.”

Eddie nodded, grabbing a small handheld lantern- a gift from you. He kept burning himself with the candle opera you’d gifted him, and when he wasn’t searing his skin off with the flame, he was turning to quickly and extinguishing all the flames. You told him it was because he’d wake you up with his fumbling in the dark. When you’d included the batteries with the small lantern, Eddie was convinced it was because you were growing a soft spot for him.

A creaking of a door had Eddie jumping, looking through the flickering flames with his bright plastic lantern. “Uh, hey,” Eddie stepped closer. “Anyone there?”

The silence was an eerie answer, Eddie swinging the lantern around. It was times like this, he really wished that the electricity still worked, that he could flick a light on, and see what was lurking in the shadows. The dining room appeared empty, a few spider webs and lots of dust, but lack of any danger Eddie could see.

“Looking for something?”

“Jesus Christ! What the fuck-” Eddie jumped, nearly dropping his lantern, tripping over his own feet to scatter away from the figure in front of him.

“Did I scare ya?” Jonathan’s lips curled in a half smile, standing rigidly in the doorway. “You know, they say if you get scared easily, you’re not living right. That’s a saying that’s been repeated and found all throughout history. In Christianity, oddly enough, is where they-”

“-Alright, Jonathan. I got it.” Eddie lifted a hand, his heart still hammering. He could feel his lids beginning to droop, eyes starting to gloss over the way they always did when Jonathan ‘fed’. A shitty excuse for a vampire, Eddie thought, What the fuck even is a psychic vampire?

“Oh,” Your face fell, contorting into a grimace when you came down the steps. “Jonathan, you are home early today.”

“Yes, I decided to come home early today.” Jonathan droned in a painful monotone that had your shoulders tensing. “I didn’t want to miss the house meeting.”

“Wonderful.” You grimaced, looking at Eddie with an annoyed sneer. He fought back a snicker, turning to the bat down a cobweb that he missed. You could be funny at times, when you wanted.

“I know you three tried to hide it from me, but you always talk too loud. You forget the walls are thin. Which reminds me, did you know that back in the early nineteen-hundreds when this house was first built, that architects of that time used-”

“-Yes, Jonathan. Please, shut the fuck up.” Robin groaned, falling into the leather armchair.

“Jonathan, I really can’t humor you today.” Nancy glared at him lightly. “You know the rules, if you’re going to be in a house meeting with us, you can’t feed off of us.”

“I know.” Jonathan lifted his hands. “Sorry, I can’t help myself.” He turned to Eddie with a grin. “Guess it’s just you I’ll be feeding from.”

“Not from my Familiar either, Jonathan.” You snapped, teeth baring in territorial threat. “Eddie is off limits.” Eddie’s chest swelled with pride, chin tipping towards the floor, hoping it would hide his blush.

“Why are we even having a house meeting?” Robin rolled her eyes, the bags under her eyes especially prominent from lack of slumber.

“Because,” You hissed, shoulders tight with annoyance. “You three need to get your own familiar.”

Robin scoffed, Nancy rolling her eyes in agreement. “What?”

“You three always call for Eddie to do everything, and it distracts him from me.” You jabbed a sharp nail into your chest. “I need him to be attentive to my needs, not yours. Go get your own familiar.”

“Oh, please-”

“-We only ask him to do a few things that should already be done-”

“-I have to agree with Rob and Nance on this one.” Jonathan lifted a finger.

“Do not call me that.” Nancy hissed, her teeth baring in the dull light of the room.

“Nan?” Jonathan turned, eyes lighting up though his expression stayed neutral, the way it always did when he was feeding.

“Ok,” You lifted your hands, stopping the attack Nancy was about to launch. “Find your own familiar. Eddie is my familiar, and is to attend to me exclusively.”

“I’m sure he does.” Robin muttered, Nancy’s snicker making your ears burn- well, it would, if they still could. Eddie’s cheeks did burn a bright red, shifting at the innuendo.

Your eyes narrowed, a threatening glare that neither of your roommates seemed phased by, only furthering your irritation. A sharp snap of your fingers, heavy soled steps clicking down the hall, and Eddie was following you.

“Idiots,” You hissed, flinging the door open. “All of them. I should’ve told them no, that they’d have to find their own nest, but oh no. I had to feel fucking generous and kind that day.”

Eddie stood in your doorway, hands rubbing down the material of his jeans, unsure of what to say, what to do. His eyes on you, waiting for your next command, for you to tell him what you were wanting, what you were thinking.

“Are you just going to stand there?” You huffed, a lashing tone that had Eddie jumping.

“No, wha-what do you need me to do?” Eddie stammered, uneasy with the glare you were giving him, so menacing. He knew better, or at least he thought he did, that you wouldn’t hurt him. You’d chosen him to be your Familiar for a reason… right?

“I don’t know, something?” You scoffed, eyes rolling back over his frame. “Maybe start with changing your clothes. We’re going out tonight and I’m not being seen with you in that.”

Eddie’s lips pursed, jaw grinding tight. He’d blame the lack of sleep on his agitation. “What do you want me to wear then, Mistress?” Eddie’s tone was bitter, toying on the edge of annoyance.

“Who are you speaking to-”

“-You.” Eddie snapped, shocking both of you. There was a pause, realization washing over the two of you. “I just- I like what I have on, ok?” Eddie’s tone was softer, looking down at his ripped jeans and holey band tee. “It’s what people from this century wear.”

Your lips rolled, flattening into a furious line. For a moment, Eddie thought you might pounce- fully preparing himself for the hiss, the baring of teeth, to feel his throat being ripped from his neck. Instead, you simply huffed, turning on your foot.

“Fine.” A quipping, positively moody huff of a reply came. In that moment, you sounded petulant, human.

“If you insist on wearing mauled clothing, then so be it.” You shrugged, a snarl still pulling on the edge of your lips.

“Thank you.” Eddie nodded, swallowing down the tremble in his throat. “And, uh, thank you for before, too.” You turned, brow lifted in intrigue. “For- During the meeting.”

“I didn’t do that for you.” Your reply was quick, teetering on defensive. “I did that for myself. I can’t wait for you because they’re too lazy to go out and compel their own Familiar.”

“Right.” Eddie’s shoulders slumped in defeat. He gave up, ready to throw the towel in. Clearly, you were set on your mood and there would be no changing it. No swaying it with charming kindness today.

“I’m going to go.” Eddie stepped towards the door. “I’ll go dust or something. Just let me know when you’re ready to go-”

“-No.” Your voice echoed through the halls, bouncing off the walls, a sense of urgency that had Eddie freezing.

You wrung your hands in front of you, anxiously. “No, just- stay in here.”

Eddie frowned. “You just told me to go do something.”

“I know,” You huffed. “But, just stay in here with me. Robin and Nancy won’t be ready for hours, and… and if you go down there Jonathan will try to feed and drain you, and-”

Eddie recognized the ramble in your tone, a sliver of humanity breaking through the cracks of your cold, monstrous exterior. It was rare, you to turn soft like this- needy, but Eddie knew why you did it. He knew what you wanted.

“Fine.” Eddie nodded, stepping into your bedroom, shutting the door carefully so the candles didn’t blow out.

A lingering pause fell between the two of you, thick with an uncomfortable but familiar tension. Routine but an oddity all the same.

“What do you want me to do in here, hm?” Eddie’s voice dropped, slow steps across the hardwood towards you. “Just sit here and stare at you.”

“No,” Your chest tightened. It had been years since your heart had beat, but you swore Eddie could make it skip. “Surely, there’s something better that we could do to pass the time.” You declared, voice a little shaky with desperation to regain your control.

“Yeah? What do you have in mind?” Eddie’s lips curled in a smirk, his face near inches from yours. “I’m at your service, Mistress.”

Your body tingled with heat, the only warmth you craved, the only warmth you needed. You were shocked, when you first transitioned to your undead state, that this feeling didn’t go away. If anything, it grew stronger.

“I think you know what I have in mind.” You glared at him, half heartedly. “Don’t make me beg, or I’ll make you beg later.”

“I would never, Mistress.” Your thighs twitched, Eddie’s hands sliding over the lacy material of your dress, the swell of your hips. “I’m your faithful servant. You just tell me what you want- whatever you need.”

“Hm,” You breathed slowly, your body closing in with him, chest to chest. Your nails raked over the etched skin of his forearms, dragging a sharp nail up his neck, to his jaw. Eddie shuddered, fingers sinking into your waist

Your lip grazed over his, mouth parting just barely, your fangs hovering over his bottom lip teasingly. Eddie swallowed back a moan that you didn’t miss. Your eyes met his, darker now- nearly black, the way they always darkened when you got like this. Aroused and needy, entirely hungry for something.

“You’ve got to be quiet this time.” You gave him a pointed look. “They heard last time. They’re starting to catch on.”

“Sorry.” Eddie swallowed, nose brushing over yours. He wanted to press his hand to the back of your head, kiss you with an urgency, but he knew better. That wasn’t how you liked it. Oh no, you liked the anticipation, the adrenaline filled excitement that came with teasing.

“Who cares if they know anyways?” Eddie muttered brainlessly, eyes glossing when they met yours. “What’s so wrong with it?”

“It’s unnatural.” You whispered. “Complicated.”

“What’s so complicated about it?” Eddie scoffed lightly, hand sliding up your spine, towards your zipper. “You’re turning me into a vampire anyways, right? Why’s it matter?”

You hesitated, breath hitching and ghosting over his lip, chilling him. “It’s just- it makes things difficult now.” You stammered, fingers sliding through his hair. “I don’t want to talk about that now.” Your thumbs pressed lightly to his temples, his eyes meeting yours.

“For now,” You purred, lips curling in a small grin. “I think you should thank me again, but this time,” Your nose brushed over his. “By letting me sit on your face. That seems fair, right? You thank me, I keep you quiet- a win-win.”

Eddie blushed, lips spreading in a wide grin. “Yes, Mistress.”

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gracieheartspedro · 1 year ago

Text

Trash Talk

abby anderson x fem!reader

description: you and abby anderson go waaayyy back, and she can't stand you. after being distant for years, you can't help but pick on her and get under her skin. you can't help yourself. maybe it's those god damn arms and that cute smile she makes sometimes. so, why not try to bully her enough so she will take you to bed?

word count: 7.1k

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, nsfw, smut, wlw, some slight bullying, threatening of one's life, murder (reader kills scars), use of guns, dom!abby, fingering, eating out, shower sex, use of a strap on, dirty talk, abby calls reader tons of names, major teasing!!

author's note: first abby one shot. let's goooo! lemme know what you guys think. I really liked writing this and I'm down for any requests for abby or ellie!! love you guysssss <3

“Are you the one braiding your hair every day or do you have some pretty girl do it for you?”

Abby’s head spun over how dumb your questions had been all afternoon. Luckily for her, you were being quiet up until this moment.

You are propped up beside her on the back of the jeep, your rifle slung across your lap. You were itching to get a rise out her today, it was fun to watch her eyes roll into the back of her head.

She cocks her gun, her eyes trained forward and away from you. She’s always on edge when you’re out on patrol. Her furrowed eyebrows and tense shoulders made your relaxed and at ease body language look unjustified.

“I braid it myself,” Is all she says. You train your eyes to watch her muscles flex as she inspects her gun closely. You contemplate your answer, do you ask if she can braid yours next or do you ask if that’s how she got those insane arms of hers.

You don’t make a decision by the time Manny slams on the breaks, unexpectedly. Abby’s body flies into yours, sliding across the bench and crashing into your side. You wince, snapping your head forward to the road.

“We got company, chicas!”

You duck when the first shot hits the steel of the car. Abby grabs your waist, dragging you down onto the bed of the SUV. She didn’t want your death on her hands, knowing Isaac would never forgive her for losing his best gunner. You roll away from her grasp, propping your rifle forward where Manny is driving.

Scars on horseback surround the road in front of you.

They are easy to take out when they are high up, for you at least.

“Manny, duck your head!” You holler, glancing back at Abby who’s hand is still somehow on you. She looks conflicted, her gun still loosely in her grip.

You prop your gun up, aiming at a older man on the closest horse trailing the jeep. He has a bow, which doesn’t move as fast as your bullet. You ease into the trigger, taking out the guy with a head shot. You didn’t have time to think about your reasonings for killing the guy, you never had the time to think about it. You knew that these men would kill Manny, Abby, and you, if they had the chance, so you guess the proper reaction is a bullet to the skull.

You hear Abby yelling something but your ears are ringing at the sound of you taking out each Scar one-by-one. You don’t even let them get behind the SUV, knowing they would be getting a better shot at you. Once the last one flies off the back of their horse at the impact of your bullet, you sit up.

You realize that Abby hasn’t fired a single shot.

“I think we have a flat tire! I’m gonna pull off when I find cover,” Manny explains, his voice loud over the sound of the ringing in your ears.

Abby sits up beside you, gripping the side of the bench with her left hand. She gets a good look at your completely unfazed face and it pisses her off. You never had a moment to second guess your actions and you never had an honest reaction to killing upward of 7 men. You were always stone cold and even. You weren’t always like that. You used to have some life left in your steely eyes. At least, that’s what she thought.

You were disassociated from the entire world when put in any situation that could be deemed “dangerous”. It’s almost like a completely different person took over your body. Your reactions were not your own. But when you finally came to, your bones would vibrate with anxiety and adrenaline. You were just a master at disguising it because you didn’t want everyone around you to see you as weak. You can never be weak, again.

Even if Abby took out that many men, which she has done before, she still walks away with a small inkling of guilt written on her face. You don’t even quiver at the sight of violence and death, not that she sees, anyway.

But it does eat away at you. You’re plagued with nightmares if you can ever even find sleep at night. Most nights are spent curled into a ball, staring off into space, praying the walls will just cave in and suffocate you. You hardly eat most of the time, the thought of munching on food makes you nauseous.

Manny pulls into a familiar warehouse that’s usually a stopping point for one of your patrol routes. The jeep is jittering, chugging forward with a scraping noise. You stand up when it completely stops, jumping down from the side. You sling your backpack over your shoulder and your gun strap across your other.

You watch Abby jump down after you, her impact on the ground loud. She stares at you with this annoyed look on her face.

“What’s wrong, baby girl? Mad you didn’t get a shot off?”

Your tone makes her ball her hands into fists.

“Can you shut your fucking mouth ever?”

Manny chirps in quickly after she says it, “Ay! Quit it you two!”

You bow your head, “Yeah, Abby. You need to blow off some steam. Gettin’ all worked up.”

Manny slaps your shoulder lightly, gesturing you two to get inside the warehouse. You knew you had to clear it before you settled in to discuss the next game plan. You stand there watching Abby strut towards you, her eyes scanning your body up and down.

She is only a little bit taller than you, but she’s built like an ox. When you two were acquainted, she was about your stature. Now that she needs to prove herself, she bulked up and became even more hot.

“You’re lucky Isaac needs your ass, because if were up to me, I’d send you straight to the Island and watch them pick you apart.”

Her voice is vicious and you could tell she was pissed at you for teasing her. It only made you smile in sick pleasure. You craved getting under her skin.

“Love it when you talk dirty to me, Abs.”

She ignores your comment, knowing exactly what you were trying to do. You were doing it so well, too.

You three creep inside the warehouse, stalking around the open area, ensuring there’s no one nearby to sneak up on you. Your running low on ammo, but you didn’t want to ask Abby for a new magazine. She would bitch you out for not grabbing an extra. With that in mind, you sling your rifle across your back and pull out your pistol. You cock it, which interupts the silence you three had been settling in.

“A pistol?” Manny questions, quietly. You nod slowly, discharging the magazine to make sure you had a stacked shell.

You huff, “Yeah, I’m out of hallow points for the rifle.”

Abby stops in her tracks, “You forgot another magazine, didn’t you?”

She wanted so badly to be right, especially when it came to you fucking up. You stare at her as you shove the magazine back into the grip.

“Eat my ass, Abby.”

She laughs, watching your face fall as you cock the gun again. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Manny grimaces, “Please, stop, you two. Let’s get this place clear and then figure out what we do next.”

Manny was right. You and Abby separate, both of you trailing up some stairs to the extended area of the warehouse. You check every corner on your side, ensuring no one will be sneaky and catch you all off guard. Once you all decide it’s clear, you meet up at the staircase Manny is walking down.

Manny was a good friend and a rare hookup. You had slept with him a couple times and while he was always a generous guy, he never made you cum. He always joked that it was because you liked girls better, and truthfully, he may be right. He was handsome but he never really did it for you.

Abby, on the other hand, you and her went way back and she did it for you. Before becoming Isaac’s favorite, you were pretty good friends with her. You two sat together in “school” and she taught you how to make someone pass out by putting them in a headlock. You had confided in her about your past and she was the only one who truly knew everything. You genuinely liked her and wanted so badly to tell her how you felt. But once Isaac took interest in your skill set, he trained you vigorously with his top men. You had no time for anything anymore. It pissed Abby off so much, for some odd reason. You’d think a friend would be proud that the head honcho took interest in you and wanted to make you better. But instead, Abby took it as a personal jab and started ignoring you. When you confronted her, she told you that she was too busy for friends. That, of course, didn’t stop her from having a whole ass friend group without you. When you befriended Manny, he told you that Abby only saw you as competition.

So you became even better. Not wanting to repeat the same mistake, you kept everyone at an arms length and avoided getting close with anyone. It made you withdrawn, and eventually, you realized you were not meant to be a friend to anyone. You were made to be a killer.

“So what do we do now? Go back or go to our assigned checkpoint?”

Abby’s training her eyes on Manny and Manny only. She refuses to even glance your direction. You turn your gun safety on and tuck it into your waistband.

“How far do you think we are from the checkpoint?” You question, crossing your arms across your chest.

“Too fuckin’ far,” Abby responds, still not looking at you.

You smirk, “Perfect, then let’s do that. Maybe Abby can get her finger on a trigge-“

Before you can finish your sentence, Abby’s reaching out and pulling your body towards her by your shirt. You don’t even flinch, your body just flies forward as she finally stares daggers into you. You like being this close to her, it makes the hair on your arms stand up.

“I swear to God,” She’s gritting her teeth, “If you don’t stop fucking around, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

You press yourself closer to her. Her fist with your balled up shirt grazes your boobs. Manny doesn’t say anything, just rolls his eyes, anticipating your response. You like this game. The one where you tease Abby and she becomes enraged by your words and eventually it comes to a tipping point. She’s always just thrown something, her manhandling you was new.

“I’d love to see you try, sweetheart,” You mutter, your face millimeters from hers, “I don’t think you’re remembering what our body counts are and who’s surpassing the other by a fucking landslide.”

“I’d love to add you to mine, that’s for damn sure,” She responds quickly, eager to one up you. You giggle at the double meaning that comes to mind. You would like to be on her body count list, for sure.

“Stop it!”

You both shoot a look at Manny who’s nudging you two apart. Abby unhands your shirt, and you step backward away from her, tripping a bit over some broken concrete. She looks you up and down with disgust.

“You need to stop acting like you’re better than everyone else,” She grumbles, ignoring Manny’s pleas for a truce.

“You need to stop acting so serious all the time! Get a grip, I’m just fuckin’ with you.”

“I said stop! I knew you guys hated one another but I didn’t know this was gonna be a who’s dick is bigger competition. You both need to relax!”

Abby’s face is twisted and you hated that you found it attractive. God, you wanted to fucking hate her.

Abby crosses her arms, flexing them right in front of you. She notices your expression change. She knew you had a little crush before, but she thought that feeling was long gone. She shoves the small inkling of optimism that you may still feel that way down.

Manny speaks up again, “We should just head back and tell Isaac we will head back out tomorrow morning. It’s going to be dark in about an hour. It’s too risky.”

“Agreed,” Abby tightens up her folded arms, “If you wanna go out by yourself, you can do that. We can tell Isaac you went awol.”

You smirk at her suggestion, “No, I want to be there to tell him you can’t pull your punches. Be way more satisfying to watch you squirm.”

“I’m glad everyone was okay,” Isaac says, his deep voice dropping an octave, “I’ll get more guys to go with you tomorrow morning. You three get back here at sunrise, okay?”

You clear your throat, “Want me to run through how to shoot a gun with Abby before we ship out?”

Manny huffs, “Come on, dude.”

“I think she’d benefit from it,” You say matter-of-factly to Isaac. You can feel Abby’s gaze burning into you. She’s leaning against the door frame, while you are seated in front of Isaac’s sprawling desk. You always felt like he only sat there to seem more authoritative. To you, he was just a man.

“Play nice, little one,” He stands up from his rolling chair to stand in front of your manspreaded legs, “You still need to prove to me that you’re loyal. Don’t think I forgot about the incident at the hospital last week.”

Your stomach drops while Abby’s ears perk up.

“What happened at the hospital last week?”

Her voice is eager, which only makes you angrier. You adjust yourself in your seat, sitting up straighter.

“She refused to kill a Scar,” He explains, teetering over you, “She shot a Wolf instead.”

“He demanded I gut a child in front of her mother. I am not going to do shit like that.”

Isaac chuckles before slamming his fist down on the table beside him, “You can and you fuckin’ will. If I get any more push back from you, I’ll get Anderson here to take you out herself.”

You stand up quickly, avoiding everyone’s gazes. You want to throw your knife into his throat, but you know that wouldn’t end well. You didn’t want to have to be on the run again.

Being humiliated in front of Abby and Manny made you feel sick. You hadn’t felt shame in so long, not even when you were reprimanded last week for shooting that guy between the eyes. You were lucky he was just some new recruit and had no family back at the Stadium. Isaac spared you because he needs you. You’re a good asset.

“We clear?”

His voice bounces off the wall. You don’t say anything, you just nod slightly and storm out of the office. You hear the door slam behind you as you swiftly walk towards the staircase. There’s men loitering in the hallway, waiting for Isaac to tell them to go kill another Scar. Pathetic, you thought.

You start to think about how didn’t want to face Abby and Manny tomorrow, but you knew better to ignore direct orders. Maybe a shower would rinse off the disgusting dirty feeling that plagued your skin.

“Didn’t know I was workin’ with a traitor today,” Abby says from behind you. You’re in the community bathrooms, cursing that it’s even a thing because you knew some shit like this would happen. You thought since it was midnight, you wouldn’t have any company. You were, of course, wrong.

Abby has her towel draped over her broad shoulder and a small container with her soaps. You were just about to strip down and take one of the spickets on the tiled wall when she interrupts your routine.

You swallow hard, not in the mood to argue with her. Even if there’s no one around, you don’t feel like entertaining anymore.

“‘M not a traitor. I just don’t kill children.”

You had very limited morals, but you drew the line at children. You remember what it was like to watch your friends get picked off by raiders when you were a kid. You remember being horrified hearing the screams of their mothers. You remember the innocence being stripped from you. You can’t stomach the idea of killing someone who has no control over their life or the decisions of others, so you don’t.

Isaac showed no mercy to any Scar, but you did and he was trying his very hardest to beat that out of you. The only reason you were stuck on the patrol with Manny and Abby in the first place was because he knocked you down to more minor runs and not the intense ones you were on before. It was your “punishment” for disrespecting authority. You were lucky to even have your head after killing that guy in front of other Wolves.

Abby grumbles something inaudible.

“You remember when we were forced to watch those daycare kids after not doing our morning mile?” You reflect, thinking back to easier times with Abby, “Imagine one of those innocent kids being gutted by a machete and it’s your own hand doing it. If a child is going to die in the name of some stupid land, I don’t want to be the one holding the weapon. Isaac can have sociopaths like you to do that.”

“Me? The sociopath? If I’m remembering correctly, they gave you the nickname Heartless after your run through on the East side a couple months ago,” Abby’s voice is venmous, “You are the top Scar killer right now. You kill and you don’t even flinch.”

“I kill people who try to kill me,” You grab the hem of your top, pulling it over your head, “I need to protect myself. And whoever I’m with. I’m not given a choice.”

“Was that guy trying to kill you? The one you shot between the eyes?”

You’re silent. She poses a good question, a question you don’t have a good answer for. You turn to face her, and the first thing you realize is her braid is becoming unraveled. You purse your lips, racking your brain for a response after being distracted. The only rebuttal is a question, something that has eaten you alive ever since it started.

“Why do you hate me so fuckin’ much?”

She cocks her head to the side, “Are you serious right now?”

Deep down, Abby never hated you. She was jealous of you. She wanted everything you had. She couldn’t stand seeing someone be better than her, especially a girl she liked. And you did everything so well. She harbored a secret crush on you for a while, even when she was with Owen. She hated that she liked you and you were leaving her behind to advance up the ranks. She only wanted your attention, truthfully. Now, since she distanced herself from you, everything you did ate her alive. While poking fun at her was your way of flirting, Abby reeled over it every night before bed. How could you be so mean?

“We were friends, Abby. I told you about my family. I told you everything, and as soon as I got in with Isaac, you iced me out. Told me you didn’t need friends,” You huff out, “I knew that was a lie then and I know it’s a fuckin’ lie now because you have friends. Lots of them. Why couldn’t I be your friend?”

“Because I can’t be friends with you!”

Her voice is high pitched, almost shaky. You take a step forward and for once she doesn’t step away from you. You’re in her space, your hip bone millimeters from her hands. Your eyes are trained on her reaction, which is just her eyes averting away from you.

“Why can’t we be friends, Abs?”

You reach up, grabbing her messy braid softly. She flinches a bit, easing into the idea of you touching her. It’s been a long time since you were this close to her without her resisting. She still won’t look you in the eyes. Your fingers travel down her mousey braid until you’re trailing her collarbone and wide shoulders. As your digits trace her bicep, she finally looks at you for a moment. The tension is palpable, your question still hanging in the air.

“You’re impossible,” She murmurs, her eyes flicking away again, “And you’re despicable. You think you’re bett-”

“Cut the shit,” Your hand stops right at her wrist and you wrap your much smaller hand around it. You know the real reason she won’t be your friend, it’s written all over her face, “You hate me because you want me, Abby. You always have. Almost as much as I want you.”

“Want is a strong word,” She chirps, “I was in a relationship when we were friends. I had Ow-”

“Don’t even say his fuckin’ name,” Your free hand tilts her head back toward your gaze. You hated that fucker for messing with your Abby, “Can you just indulge me? Admit that the reason you’re pissy with me is because you want me between your legs?”

You can feel her tense up, her jaw going slack.

“Nah, don’t think that’s what I want,” Her voice finally changes. It’s more sultry, the tone shifting with the conversation. She shakes out of your grip, bringing her hand up to your chin, “Think I need to teach you a thing or two. Shut that stupid smart mouth up for a minute.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, you’ve been a fuckin’ bitch and you need to be taught a lesson,” Hearing the words come out her mouth has your core clenching with anticipation. She’s silent waiting for you to agree, but you just stare at her with a smirk. “Do you need me to show you here or do you want me to show you in your room?”

“Why not yours?”

“Because Manny is there. Unless you want to give him a show like the slut I know you are.”

She makes the hair on your arms stand up. She scans your body as you contemplate your options. This is a moment you’d been waiting for, so you can’t fuck it up. You finally have her exactly where you want her.

You can’t be caked in dirt and grime when she’s devouring you, right?

“I need a shower,” You mutter. It catches her off guard. You swallow before continuing, “I think you need one, too. So, how about we take our showers and then you can walk me back to my room.”

She doesn’t even say anything, just begins stripping off her tank top. She’s sporting a black sports bra underneath and my God, does she look good in only a bra. You have seen her in a bra before, but never with a six pack and huge arms like she has now. She smiles at your gawking. She shoves off her cargo pants, leaving her just in her underwear and bra.

You finally come to your senses and start stripping as she walks over to one of the shower heads and turns it on. She looks excellent from the back, too, you think.

“We don’t have all night,” She groans, watching you slowly start undoing your bra, “Hurry up before I change my mind.”

You walk towards the shower head next to the one that’s running for her. She pulls the hem of her bra up and off, revealing her full chest to you. You follow her lead, undoing the back of your bra and letting your breasts free. The water is soaking your feet and you still have your underwear on. It’s almost like a competition as to who can break first and touch the other, and it wasn’t going to be you. You shimmy your underwear off, tossing both your bra and panties to the pile outside of the shower.

“Jesus Christ,” She howls as you let the water take over your body. Her eyes are glued to your chest, “It’s like they got bigger.”

You sneer at her comment, “I could say the same about you in general.”

“Yeah?” She slips off her underwear, leaving nothing to imagination anymore. She caves first, creeping into your stream of hot water with you and wrapping her large arms around your waist. Chills shoot up every part of your body when her lips dip down to leave open mouth kisses on your shoulder blade. Her hands trail upward from your hips to your stomach to your tits. You watch in disbelief when her massive hands take up most of your boobs. She cradles them in her palms before massaging you tenderly. You’re already a moaning mess, pushing your ass into her crotch.

“Let’s get you clean since that’s what you want,” She drops your boobs before reaching out for her soap. She starts to lather herself up before her hands return to your buzzing body. You let her hands wander, coating you in her pine soap. You didn’t care for the scent, but it smelled like her and you always wanted that scent on your body.

She manhandles you a bit before using your arm to twist you around to face her. She’s staring down at you, her pupils dark with desire. You realize her hair is still in a braid and resting on her bare shoulder. While she continues to rub you down, you grab the end of her braid and start to undo it.

When her wavy hair is released from the hair tie, you realize how long it is now. No wonder she keeps it braided, it must get in her way.

“May need to rebraid your hair,” You mutter, your hand still dancing around her decolletage.

“I’ll just have you hold it up while I eat you out.”

You smirk as she focuses her attention on pinching and tugging on your hard nipples. You ogle her, unsure how you got here. Earlier she was threatening to kill you, now she’s toying with your body and leaving you the wettest you’ve ever been. She backs you into the water, having you rinse off the suds.

“Abby,” You finally catch her gaze and her lips are pursed in concentration. She looks at your expression and then it finally happens. She kisses you, feverishly. You almost slip on the wet floor as she aggressively pushes you back against the tiled wall. Luckily, her arm is completely enveloping your hip, keeping you stable against her. Your bodies are wet and burning with desire, eager to touch every inch of each other. Abby pulls away, catching her breath.

“We need to speed this part up, I need to fuck you.”

You chuckle, wrapping your arms around her neck, “We are having fun though, aren’t we?”

She shakes her head, “Rinse yourself off, no more back talk.”

She pulls away from you, quickly showering herself. You don’t even wash your hair like you need to, you just watch her lather her body up, slowly circling your clit with your middle and pointer finger. She does not even realize what you’re doing until you are moaning in her direction.

“You’re a dirty little girl, aren’t you?”

She pulls your hand away from your sensitive nub, using you as leverage when she gets on her knees. She’s staring up at you, pulling you forward by your ass. She looks too good at this angle.

“Please, Abby,” You beg, wanting her to devour you whole.

“Hold my hair, baby. Just like I said.”

She nudges your knees apart, her face centimeters from your dripping core. She uses her long fingers to spread apart your pussy lips, soaking in the fact that she was the one who made you this wet. You reach down, pulling her long locks upward to get them off her shoulders. When she creeps in closer, her tongue is extended outward. As soon as it makes contact with your slit, you throw your head back, your hand full of hair loosening. She works her tongue around your pussy, pressing forward even more. She has her full face in you, her nose poking your clit every time she moves her tongue and lips.

You’ve never been eaten out like this before. She’s a starved woman, begging you to feed her your sweet juices. Your knees feel like they could give out at any moment, so you grip onto her shoulder to balance yourself. She’s switching between slurping and sucking, her mouth working magic on your senstive pussy.

Just when you think her head can’t get any better, her fingers enter the equation. She slips her long fingers between your slit, finding your hole after exploring for a moment. She guides one finger into you, then two. She’s groaning into you, watching your body twitch under her touch. She’s fucking you so fast, you can feel yourself teetering over the edge. She switches up her moves, flicking her tongue on your clit and fucking you slower. It sends you into bliss, your mouth agape as you stare down at her pressed against your core. You cry out, trying your best not to let your legs surrender to your weight.

“Yes baby,” She watches you fall apart, her finger tips swiping over your clit fast, “That’s right, cumming apart on my tongue. That’s so hot.”

Your vision is hazy, but you can still make out Abby as she stands up. Her hands rest on your waist as she brings you into a ravenous kiss. You’re still in a daze from your orgasm as she shuts off the warm water behind you. She’s guiding you out of the showers, bringing you back to your clothes and towel. She helps you by wrapping your towel around your center.

“You okay to walk back to your room?” She questions, watching you shakingly dry yourself off.

You chuckle a bit, “Why? Do you want to carry me or something?”

She gives you a smug look, “Do you need me to?”

You want to smack the expression clear off her face. The freckles that litter her face scrunch in a teasing manner, which makes you melt a bit. You continue drying off before you throw back on your pants and shirt. You would be taking them off within the next two minutes, anyway, but you had to make it through the main hallways.

Abby does the same thing before she gathers all her belongings and waits for you. As you rake your fingers through your hair, she jokingly starts tapping her foot.

“Can you relax?”

She shakes her head “no”. You roll your eyes, grabbing all your things and leading the way to your room.

Abby knew your room would be better because you were graced with a room all by yourself. Courtesy of being Isaac’s top dog.

You were vigilant about keeping a clean suite, always making sure your limited belongings had a place. You did not have people in your room often, so you were a bit nervous to have Abby Anderson in your room.

She trails behind you closely, grunting every so often to indicate her impatience. Once you're outside your room, you unlock it with the key around your neck. It was easier to keep it on your chain, you hated stuffing your pockets with loose items.

The cold air hits your skin. You were known for keeping a cold room. You always ran hot at night and you refused to sweat. When Abby walks into your suite, she starts to laugh. You lay down your towel and undergarments.

“What’s so funny?” You ask, your wet hair sticking to your shoulders.

“You haven’t changed at all,” She grumbles, tossing her stuff in a pile beside your front door. The comment takes you off guard, simply because you spent years trying to be someone different.

“Why do you think that?”

“You are still so Type A,” She’s bounding towards you, stopping centimeters from your still-orgasm-dazed body, “You always run hot. It’s fuckin’ freezing in here.”

She’s cowering over you, her hot breath getting closer to your face. Before she can kiss you, she averts her head to the crook of your neck.

“You still smell of lavender,” She kisses your pulse point before continuing, “And you need attention or else you’ll die. You thrive off pissing everyone off.”

“Especially you,” You practically moan as she continues to kiss your throat. When you say that, she lifts her head and stares down at you. She’s so symmetrical and beautiful. You loved seeing every freckle, every wrinkle of her nose. The fullness of her pink lips.

“Especially me, that’s right.”

She pulls you in again, this time using her large hands to push your ass forward, capturing your lips as you melt into her grip. You move fluidly with her direction, peeling off your clothes again and frenching her when her lips slip open. Your tongues battle but you fully submit when she slowly bites down. She’s hungry for more.

You grab onto her forearms, tugging her towards your full size bed in the corner of the room.

You always kept your blinds drawn, not allowing the large windows to expose your personal space. You’re silently thanking the angels for your obsessiveness because if someone spotted you and Abby right now, it would somehow get back to Isaac. He would have a cow if he found you two messing around. That’s too much of a distraction and you need to focus on the “mission”.

Well, right now your mission is to make Abby cum.

You two fall on the bed, her hands still resting on the curve of your ass. She groans when you pull away from her lips. You tug at her shirt, gesturing to her to rid herself of her clothes. She obliges and she’s finally naked in your bed. You could die happy.

You were too caught up in her touching you earlier, now you want to feel her. When the cold air touches her nipples, you notice them stand at attention. You practically fall into her chest, latching your mouth onto her tits, sucking the skin. She moans out, her hips reacting by pressing forward into you. You swirl your wet tongue around her areola, teasing her sensitive nipples.

“God damn,” She whimpers, her hands exploring your hips. You use your teeth, nibbling slightly as you pull away from her one boob. She falls onto her back, releasing you from her grip. You crawl on top of her, straddling her waist with your thighs. You press your slick entrance on top of her mound, dragging it back and forth, teasing her.

“You want me to touch your pretty pussy with my mouth?” You ask, resting your hands on her abs. She was so built, just tracing the outline of her 6-pack made you quiver.

“God yes.”

Her voice is deeper, her pleasure taking over her vocal chords. You grind down on her before you shimmy down her legs and settle between her thighs. You lay on your tummy, lining up your face with her middle.

She’s dripping, her entrance waiting for your fingers and mouth. You loved returning the favor, especially for women. You got off on hearing a woman chant your name as you alternate between licking and sucking. It would always boost your ego, but now that it’s Abby in your bed? You’ll be satisfied if she’s the last one to ever get in bed with you.

She talked a big game about “teaching you a lesson” but here you are, shoving your fingers deep inside her and fucking her with your tongue. You smirk at the thought, watching her face twist in delight. You swirl your tongue around her sensitive throbbing clit. You were fed off her reactions, your eagerness to make her feel good increasing the more she cried out.

You wrap your lips around her clit as you’re three fingers deep, fucking her steadily. As soon as you start the suction on her pussy, Abby is falling apart on your face. It’s a quick reaction, which gives you a bit of an ego boost. You watch her stomach flex, her jaw clench, and her mouth let out a guttural moan.

Once she catches her breath, you slide off the bed, heading to your side table. You open the drawer, searching for the one thing that Abby could use to teach you a lesson.

You pull out the black strap on you found a couple months ago at an abandoned sex store downtown. You haven’t used it yet, but you did make the effort to clean it before you tucked it away. This seemed like the perfect time for it to shine.

You show Abby, her eyes lighting up with excitement. She snatches it from you, giggling as she stands up.

“It’s like putting underwear,” You explain as she messes with the strap. It was like a thong with a dick attached. Very advanced technology.

“It’s perfect,” She whispers, sliding it over her massively thick thighs. Once she gets it on, it’s kind of silly to look at. Seeing Abby with a massive cock made you chuckle, but instead of following your reaction, it’s like it gave her a newfound attitude.

It’s like a switch goes off. Instead of slowing down after an orgasm, like you, she manhandles you and grabs your biceps. She tows you up to her naked body before she pins you down to the bed. She plants herself like a tree between your legs, the large silicone dick nudging your inner thighs. You still can see her glistening core through the straps.

“I need to watch you come apart again,” She explains as she holds the cock in her hand, “Wanna watch you cum over and over again.”

Her hair is messily over her shoulders, so when she leans down to stare down at the dick sliding between your folds, it falls in her face. She tucks it behind her ears, but it still drifts down her chest. You circle your hips, sighing at the feeling of the ridges of the dildo against your sensitivity.

“Fuckin’ hair,” She fusses. You giggle a bit, watching her throw it back over her shoulders. You nudge her shoulder, using some force to pull her over your body. She leans down, her hair falling onto your face.

“I’ll hold it for you, just make me feel good,” You murmur, using both hands to gather her hair. She gasps as you tug on her locks. You use some of the leverage you have to position her even closer to you. She reaches between your bodies and coats the cock in your slick. As soon as she teases your entrance with it, you pull her hair back. It sends her over the edge as she eases the dick inside you. It hurts a bit, so when she draws back you tell her to coat it in her saliva. She does what she’s told, spitting into her free hand a couple times and covering the appendage with it.

Once she eases in again, the stretch feels better with the lubrication. Your thighs want to clench so bad, but the way she’s resting on you, you have no way to. She draws in and out of your pussy, grunting at the impact.

It feels so good, but part of you wishes you just had her beautifully long fingers inside you.

She moves your hands away from her hair and throws her head back, tossing her blond hair back. She props your legs up, plowing into you. You’re crying out, your ears ringing with the sound of your own heartbeat.

“God, I need you to cum, baby,” She mumbles, kissing your knee as your body starts to vibrate. The cock is hitting you in all the right spots, but you need more. You reach down, using the pads of your fingers to stimulate your clit.

“Please don’t stop!”

It riles her up more, her pace quickening with every gasp. She pushes your fingers away, replacing them with her own. The pressure she applies sends your body into overdrive. Between her moans and the physicality, your orgasm hits you like a train. She fucks you through it, mumbling phrases like “that’s my good girl” and “yes baby, give it to me”.

Once it’s over, it feels like your heart may beat out of your chest. She pulls the strap out and stands up beside your bed, shoving it off her hips. You watch her closely as she props the item up on your side table. She’s careful not to mess with any of you meticulously placed knick knacks.

“You good?” She asks, her voice cracking a bit.

She wanted to say more, but as she looks at you all fucked out on your bed, she feels a pang of guilt. She should not be indulging in this type of stuff, especially when you’re going against the cause. Abby had it made here, she can’t risk anything.

“‘m all good, Abs. Do you wanna stay?”

She shakes her head negatively.

“I think I’m gonna head back to my room. We gotta be up in a couple hours.”

You notice she’s being cold, which sends you into a spiral. You want to reassure her, but you know deep down she’s already made up her mind.

You clear your throat, “Well, we can at least wake up together.”

“No, I don't think that’s the best idea,” She explains as she finds her clothes across your bedroom. She lays them on the bed beside you as she starts to dress herself. She has this look of concern on her face. It makes you physically ill, knowing it’s the face of regret.

“Well, I guess we are back to square one.”

She throws her shirt over her head before she’s gathering up her things and practically running to the door. You want to pick up the dildo and sling it at her head. You can’t believe this.

She reaches for the door before turning around to face you, “Guess so.”

PART 2 is HERE

#abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou #abby from tlou #abby tlou smut #tlou x reader #abby anderson tlou2 #the last of us #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x you #abby the last of us #abby x reader #the last of us 2 #gracieheartspedro

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jzprncess · 28 days ago

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the missing melody ♪

pairing : franco colapinto x singer!reader

faceclaim : various people!

summary : after several months of silence, Y/N L/N, a renowned singer, unexpectedly surfaces at a Formula 1 Grand Prix, leaving everyone wondering about her disappearance. Her arrival catches the eye of a talented rookie driver, intrigued by her in many ways then one.

part 1 out of unknown parts

warnings : some singers do not exist in this au since i might take their songs! read my note before reading!

note : first smau! Let me know in the comments for feedback! I actually had inspiration for this one. i don't think this is too long or too short, so expect the next parts to be the same length! this will be at the cota race in austin in october but with the the baku results because thats when they both got points (the william drivers). i

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

F1GOSSIP just posted

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F1GOSSIP after several months of speculation and silence, y/n l/n resurfaced this weekend at a grand prix, and fans are buzzing! our sources say that y/n has always been a f1 fan but has never actually been to a grand prix! why now? did she get bored doing what she was doing? why was she gone for so long?

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username1 WHATTT?!?

username2 wait? MY QUEEN?!?

username3 where? i’m here also!! where is she?!?

username4 she’s still so pretty 😍

username5 NO WAY YOURE LYING?!!?

username6 no one understands how bad i missed y/n!!!

username7 i almost had a heart attack oh my FUCK

username8 i’m totally not freaking out rn 😊😊

username9 i used to pray for times like this 🙏🙏🙏🙏

username10 DOES THIS MEAN MORE MUSIC? PLEASE ITS BEEN MONTHS IM STARVING!

yourusername added to their story

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username1 we missed you y/n!

f1 hi y/n! we’d love to have you come down and join us in the paddock! let us know if you’re interested!

y/n’s pov

I stare at the text message from the F1 account on Instagram, my thumb hovering over the screen. It’s been months—months of quiet, isolation, and letting the world forget me while I tried to remember myself. I glance around the room, so used to its stillness. The familiar hush, once comforting, now feels almost suffocating. Outside the window, life goes on, people go on, and I’m here, still debating whether I’m ready to step back into it.

My eyes drift over the message again. Maybe it’s time. Time to hear the noise, to feel the movement, to breathe in more than just silence. I sigh, gathering the courage I didn’t realize I still had in me. With a deep breath, I pick up my phone and click on the message. It’s time to be out there again.

messages

I turn off my phone and place it face down on the table, the screen going black as if signaling the shift I’m about to make. My eyes wander out the window, where the grandstands loom in the distance, already buzzing with life and anticipation. A knot of nerves twists in my stomach as I realize what stepping back into the limelight really means. After months of silence, the thought of all those eyes on me again makes my breath catch in my throat.

I close my eyes for a moment, taking in a few deep breaths, willing myself to calm down. The air feels cool and crisp against my skin, a slight contrast to the rising anxiety inside me. Reaching for the complimentary bottle of sparkling water on the table, I unscrew the cap, the soft hiss breaking the quiet. I take a sip, hoping the bubbles will settle me.

Just as I set the bottle back down, I catch movement out of the corner of my eye—someone walking toward my table. My heart skips a beat, but before I can gather my thoughts to say something, they speak first, breaking the moment.

“You must be Y/N! Hi, I’m Diana (not relevant to anyone irl), here to guide you down and give you the paddock tour!” Her smile radiates warmth, as if it spreads from her lips all the way down to her toes, instantly putting me at ease.

I return the smile, though mine is softer, still testing the waters. “Yes, that’s me.” My voice feels steady, which is a small relief.

I stand up from my seat, taking a moment to smooth down my outfit. Carefully, I push the chair back into place, making sure every movement is deliberate, giving myself just a little more time to adjust. I reach for my phone, sliding it into my back pocket, the familiar weight grounding me. Then I pick up my purse, feeling its soft leather strap slide over my shoulder as I take a deep breath.

“Ready?” she asks, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

I nod, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves swirl inside me as I let her lead the way, stepping back into a world I’ve been away from for so long.

As we make our way through the winding hallways of the paddock, the hum of activity grows louder with each step. My heart beats in time with the click of my heels on the hard floor, and I can feel the familiar rush of anticipation building as we head down the stairs toward the grid. With each step, I mentally brace myself for the crowd—the faces, the voices, the attention. It’s been so long since I’ve been in the thick of it all, and I silently rehearse how to hold myself together.

Just as my nerves start to rise, Diana slows her pace and falls into step beside me. Her presence is steady, comforting. “If you ever want to head back up during your time down here, just let me know,” she says gently, her voice low enough that it feels like she’s speaking just to me, despite the noise around us. “The team let me know you might be feeling a bit nervous with how sudden all this is.”

Her words catch me off guard, and my heart skips a beat, warmth spreading through me. The thought that the team has gone out of their way to make sure I’m okay—that they’re taking precautions for me—feels incredibly thoughtful, almost protective. It’s more than I expected.

I can’t help but grin, the tension in my chest loosening just a bit. “That’s really sweet, thank you,” I say, my voice light with gratitude. Knowing they’ve got my back makes everything feel a little less daunting.

I smile as I hear the start of one of my songs, love story , start playing (by taylor swift) in the background. As I start to hum, my phone dings.

I took my phone out of my back pocket and looked to see a message from Williams Racing on instagram.

messages

I slip my phone back into my pocket, feeling its familiar weight settle against my hip. Turning my attention to Diana, I notice she’s mid-conversation, her voice lilting as she discusses the unusually warm weather for this time of year. The sun beats down, making the air almost sticky, and I can feel a light sheen of sweat beginning to form at the back of my neck. I clear my throat with a small cough to get her attention before speaking.

“I’ll be alright now,” I say, my voice sounding steadier than I feel. “I got invited to the Williams garage.”

Her eyebrows lift in mild surprise, and she tilts her head with a curious smile. “Oh? That’s nice. I can walk you there if you’d like,” she offers, a hint of genuine warmth in her tone as she falls into step beside me.

I nod gratefully, returning her smile. “Thanks, I’d appreciate it.”

As we make our way through the crowded paddock, the buzz of activity surrounds us. The hum of engines revving in the distance, the faint scent of burning rubber, and the excited chatter of fans create a sensory tapestry that is unmistakably Formula 1. The Williams garage is up ahead, its blue and white banners standing out among the sea of team colors.

Just as we draw closer, I spot a familiar figure—Mr. Vowles, the team principal, standing by the entrance, his hands clasped behind his back as he speaks with a group of engineers. There’s a calm authority in his posture, even as the hustle of the race weekend unfolds around him.

My pulse quickens as we draw even closer to the Williams garage. The flurry of activity around us feels almost suffocating, and I can’t help but notice the curious glances from passersby. It’s my first public appearance after months of being away, and the weight of those unsaid questions hangs heavy in the air.

As we approach the entrance, Mr. Vowles looks up from his conversation, sensing our presence. His expression shifts from concentration to a welcoming grin, the lines around his eyes crinkling with warmth. “There you are,” he says, his voice carrying a tone of easy familiarity. “Hello, Y/N! I’m James Vowles, but please, just call me James.”

He extends a hand, his demeanor friendly and inviting despite the bustling surroundings. There’s a hint of recognition in his gaze—like he’s aware of who I am, or maybe just curious about the singer who suddenly vanished from the limelight.

I hum softly, finding my voice as I step forward to shake his hand. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you, James.” I offer a small smile, hoping it comes across as more confident than I feel. “Thank you for offering up your garage for me. I appreciate the hospitality.”

His grin widens, and there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—respect, perhaps, or a subtle acknowledgment of the unspoken stories that linger between us. “Our pleasure. It’s not every day we have a special guest with such a storied background. You’re more than welcome here.”

Diana hums thoughtfully and glances at James, a playful glint in her eye. “I leave her in your care,” she says with a smile, her tone light but sincere. She then turns to me, her expression softening. “It was nice to meet you, Y/N. Until next time,” she adds, giving me a small wave before turning on her heel and walking off, her figure soon blending into the sea of people.

I’m left standing at the entrance of the garage, the faint sounds of machinery and chatter surrounding me as I take in the unfamiliar scene. There’s a moment of hesitation, the feeling of being out of place creeping in despite the warm welcome.

“So… what now?” I say, glancing up at James with a faint chuckle to mask my uncertainty. “I’ve never been to one of these before. No idea what I’m supposed to do.”

James chuckles at my honesty, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Well, I’m sure Diana gave you a good tour around the paddock and the grid,” he says, crossing his arms casually. “But how about meeting the drivers? I’m sure Alex and Franco can spare a few minutes to say hello.”

There’s a friendly enthusiasm in his voice, as if he’s eager to make me feel at home in this high-octane world. The idea of meeting the drivers piques my curiosity, and a hint of nervous excitement stirs within me.

I perk up at the suggestion, though the flutter of nervousness in my chest is hard to ignore. Meeting the drivers feels like venturing into unfamiliar territory—a glimpse behind the curtain that I’m not entirely sure I’m prepared for. I’ve spent so long away from the public eye that even casual encounters seem daunting, like I’m out of practice.

“That sounds great,” I reply, managing a genuine smile despite the unease tightening in my chest. “I’d love to meet them.” My voice wavers just a little, betraying the anxious energy simmering beneath the surface. “I’ve seen Alex race on TV before, but I’ve never actually met a driver… or been this close to the action.” I laugh softly, hoping it comes off as lighthearted rather than strained.

“Lead the way?” I add, glancing at James with a mix of eagerness and uncertainty, my hands fidgeting at my sides. There’s excitement, yes, but also the familiar weight of anxiety, making me wonder if I’ll manage to fit into this world—or if I’ll just feel out of place all over again.

f1 just posted!

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f1 a little birdie told us y/n is in the williams hospitality! it looks like williams was the only team to invite y/n inside or the only team she was interested in? #F1

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username11 i doubt williams was the only team to invite her!

username7 why’re you making it sound like the other teams dislike her? 😭

username2 i still can’t believe y/n is outside 😧

williamsracing the little birdie is correct! she’s safe and sound with us! 💙

↳username11 does this mean she’s meeting the boys???

↳williamsracing she’s about too!

username3 but what does this mean musically? is she back? #imdelusional

third pov

James had sent a message to the drivers’ group chat well before inviting Y/N to the garage, giving them a heads-up to expect a couple of guests later in the day. In the text, he made it clear that they should stay put in Franco’s room and be on the lookout for their arrival. With James’s usual eye for organization, he had made sure to emphasize the importance of keeping things discreet, hoping to avoid any unnecessary chaos in the busy environment.

Inside Franco’s room, the air buzzed lightly with anticipation. Alex and Franco were seated on the worn leather couch, chatting casually about their upcoming schedules. The conversation meandered from the logistics of travel to plans for the off-season, each driver sharing his own ideas for how to make the most of the downtime. Their words overlapped occasionally, excitement rising as they discussed possible locations for training and leisure.

Suddenly, a sharp knock interrupted their conversation. Both men paused, glancing at each other before Franco rose from the couch, crossing the room to open the door.

Franco approached the door, turning the handle and pulling it open just enough to catch a glimpse of James standing on the other side. As recognition set in, he swung the door wider, making room for James to step through. A moment later, Y/N appeared behind him, her presence drawing immediate attention as she trailed closely after James.

James strode confidently into the room, his usual air of authority softened by a hint of excitement. “There’s someone I’d like for you two to meet,” he announced, his tone carrying just a touch of mystery. With a subtle gesture, he stepped aside, allowing Y/N to take center stage, her figure framed in the doorway as the focal point of the room.

As Y/N stepped into the room, Alex’s eyes flicked over to her, and he stood up slowly. He knew of her—the whole world did—but seeing her in person, especially after her months away, was different. She held herself with a quiet determination, though there was still a hint of uncertainty in the way her gaze briefly dipped to the floor before rising again.

“Hi, I’m Alex,” he said, keeping his voice soft and extending a hand. He noticed only the slightest hesitation before she took it, her grip firmer than he’d expected.

“Nice to meet you,” Y/N replied, her voice steady. She met his gaze, her expression composed but carrying a guardedness that suggested she was still finding her footing. It wasn’t shyness, exactly, but a careful control—like she was reminding herself to be present in the moment.

“It’s good to see you here,” Alex offered with a gentle smile, his tone casual. “Hopefully, things are looking up.”

Y/N nodded, a small smile touching her lips. “Trying to,” she said, her voice a little stronger now. There was more left unsaid, but she seemed willing to let the silence speak for her rather than rushing to fill it.

As Alex stepped back, Franco took a step forward, his gaze irresistibly drawn to Y/N. The moment their eyes met, the world seemed to still, and time stretched in that small space between them. His breath hitched as he glimpsed something in her expression—more than just shyness. It was a quiet determination touched by a vulnerability that tugged at something deep inside him.

“Franco,” he introduced himself, his voice unexpectedly tender. There was a softness in his gaze, as though he could sense the silent courage it took for her to be there, facing the world anew.

“Y/N,” she replied, her voice steady, yet intimate, as if sharing a secret. She held his gaze for a heartbeat longer than necessary, then looked away—not out of hesitation, but as if deciding how much of herself to lay bare.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Franco murmured, the warmth in his tone matching the gentle curve of his smile. He kept a respectful distance, aware that while she exuded strength, there was still a part of her that seemed fragile, as though testing the waters.

“Likewise,” Y/N responded softly, her hands settling at her sides. She resisted the impulse to fidget, letting the moment linger between them. The silence that followed felt almost deliberate, as if it was allowing something unspoken to take root. Franco found himself drawn to the quiet resilience she radiated—a kind of beauty that seemed to unfold with every second he spent in her presence.

y/n’s pov

After a while of simple yet engaging conversation, I found myself feeling more at ease. I shared how I had always been a fan of racing, my voice growing steadier as I spoke. “There’s something thrilling about watching it unfold on screen,” I said, trying to convey my excitement.

Alex leaned in, intrigued. “That’s great to hear! It’s always nice to meet fans who really appreciate the sport.” His enthusiasm was infectious, and I couldn’t help but smile back at him.

Franco nodded, a smile on his face. “It definitely takes a lot of dedication to get here. Every race pushes us to prove ourselves.” His sincerity made me feel even more connected to their world.

As the conversation shifted to their plans for the day, Alex described the strategies for securing points in the race, his passion evident. “It’s all about timing and reading the situation,” he explained, and I listened intently, occasionally asking questions to show my genuine interest.

I relished this moment, enjoying the chance to connect with them. For a brief time, the weight of my absence from the limelight felt lighter, and I was just another fan in the room.

Just as they began to delve deeper into the day’s logistics, James cleared his throat, breaking the moment. “Time to head back to the paddock area,” he announced. “The pre-race interviews are about to start.”

I felt a twinge of disappointment at the thought of leaving this conversation behind, but I nodded. “Good luck out there. I’ll be cheering for you both,” I said sincerely, glancing at both drivers, though my gaze lingered on Franco a beat longer, as if the words were meant just for him.

As I followed James toward the door, I glanced back over my shoulder, catching Franco’s eye one last time. I offered him a small, lingering smile, hoping to hold onto the quiet connection we had just begun to form, even as we braced ourselves for the chaos of race day.

F1GOSSIP just posted!

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F1GOSSIP oh? Is this just franco being his charming self or is something brewing? this is after franco got asked how meeting y/n was. If you have the full clip, please send it in!

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username2 me when y/n announces new music #imdelusional

username9 no! y/n’s mineeee stay back 🤺🤺🤺

username1 my reaction when i see my leftovers still uneaten in the fridge

username3 let’s not get carried away chat

username8 they’d lowkey be cute ,no?

username4 here goes mr rizzler

username5 we think y/n giggling at this or not even knowing that he’s basically down bad?

As I gaze out the window of the paddock suite, my heart thrums with a mix of anticipation and anxiety, waiting for the drivers’ parade to conclude so the race can finally commence. The vibrant colors of the team uniforms blur together in a whirlwind of excitement outside, a stark contrast to the stillness within me.

I’ve spent so long in hiding—wrapped in the suffocating embrace of identity crises, exhaustion, and a profound sense of disconnection from everything I once held dear. The weight of fame had become unbearable, each flash of a camera a reminder of the lack of privacy I craved. I’d watched as my personal relationships—family, friends—slipped through my fingers, one by one, until I was left with only echoes of laughter in empty rooms.

For the past several months, my life felt like an endless loop of anxiety and depression, a tangled web of emotions that left me feeling isolated and unrecognizable even to myself. The music that once flowed so freely from my soul now felt like a distant memory, a faint whisper drowned out by the noise of my insecurities.

I close my eyes, massaging my temples gently as I let the world around me fade into a soft murmur. The noise of the paddock, the distant roar of engines, and the chatter of eager fans all blend into a soothing backdrop as I focus inward. I think long and hard about what I truly want to do, contemplating the next steps I need to take to reclaim my sense of self and direction.

Images flash through my mind—memories of laughter, music, and the vibrant life I once lived, alongside the shadows of doubt and uncertainty that have lingered for far too long. I sift through these feelings, weighing the burden of expectations against the freedom of possibility. It’s not just about what others want for me; it’s about what I want for myself.

I draw in a deep breath, letting the air fill my lungs as I clear my mind of the noise. Slowly, I allow the weight of indecision to lift, replaced by a flicker of clarity. I envision the goals I’ve set aside and the dreams that still ignite a spark within me. With each thought, I feel a renewed sense of determination taking shape.

Finally, I open my eyes again, and the world around me comes back into focus, sharper and more vibrant than before. There’s a newfound sense of purpose coursing through my veins, a conviction that I can chart my own course and embrace the unknown. I sit up a little straighter, feeling invigorated by the possibilities that lie ahead, ready to take the next step with confidence and resolve. With all that said and done, I picked up my phone with an idea in mind.

yourusername just posted!

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yourusername I’ve tried in so many ways to come back, but I always took a U-turn, doubting myself and slipping deeper into a place I never thought I’d find myself in. The past several months have been a struggle—a relentless cycle of exhaustion, anxiety, and moments of profound loneliness. The weight of the spotlight felt more like a shackle than a blessing, and I lost sight of who I am and what brings me joy.

I hope you guys miss me as much as I missed you. It’s hard to be away from the people and things I love, especially when music has been my lifeline. I spent so long in my own head, pushing away friends and family, that I forgot how vital connection is to my soul.

But here I am at a Formula 1 Grand Prix, surrounded by the roar of engines and the thrill of the upcoming race, feeling that spark igniting again. This moment is a powerful reminder of the joy that comes from pursuing what we love. I’m learning to embrace the chaos and take the first steps toward rebuilding my life, piece by piece.

So, this isn’t just a post; it’s a promise. I’m finding my way back to music, to the stage, and to myself. I can’t wait to share new songs with you, but more importantly, I want to reconnect with you all in ways that matter.

Stay tuned, because I’m not just coming back; I’m coming back stronger, and I have so much to share.

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username1 the scream i just scrumpt and the race hasn’t even started yet!!!

username2 god answered my prayers and i’m not talking about lando world domination!

↳username10 lando we can be world champions i said!! 🧡

username3 lowk just got chills omg

username4 NEW MUSIC COMING ALERT!!!!

username5 it’s too early to be crying 😢

username6 WE MISSED YOU MORE!!

username7 you’re never alone y/n! i’m here 🤗

username8 lowk heartbreaking knowing the reason you left was due to struggles and not because you wanted to go on vacation or something 😔

username9 my queen, im deeply glad to have you back with us 💕

williamsracing ay, i see the williams team! the team will always be here for you y/n, especially when you need motivation and support! 💙💙

↳username5 ok now im sobbing

↳username11 this is deadass too cute

↳username2 who’s cutting onions?

I shut my phone off and tuck it into my purse, sealing away any connection to the world outside this moment. No more notifications, no more distractions—just me, here. I glance around the paddock, surrounded by a sea of busy engineers, media personnel, and team members, all bustling with excitement as the race is about to begin. The walls of the hospitality suite insulate me from the noise of the crowd outside, but I can still feel the thrum of energy reverberating through the glass.

I shift my focus to the grid on the screen in front of me, watching the drivers as they line up in their spots, engines purring in anticipation. Outside, the Texas sun beats down relentlessly on the Circuit of the Americas, casting long shadows on the track. I can feel the tension building, a nervous buzz in the air as the seconds tick down to lights out.

I take a deep breath, but it’s not because of the race about to unfold. No, this moment is about something much bigger. The relief that comes with turning off my phone is like a release—a tangible sense of freedom I haven’t felt in what seems like forever .And now, watching the cars settle into position, the drivers preparing for the challenge ahead, it feels symbolic—like I’m waiting for my own race to begin.

The engines rev louder, vibrating through the floor beneath me, and I exhale slowly. The lights above the starting line flash red, one by one. My heart pounds in time with the countdown, but this time, it’s not out of fear or anxiety. It’s out of anticipation. I’m ready. As the lights blink off and the cars roar forward, I feel it—this is the start of something new, not just for them, but for me too. My own restart, right here, right now.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

taglist : @heluvsjappie @awritingtree @steamy-smokey

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 x y/n #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fluff #f1 smau #franco colapinto x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 social media au #jzprncess

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punkpandapatrixk · 7 months ago

Text

❣️How Abnormal Are You in Love? ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

Don’t be too hard on yourself with this PAC. Everybody in this world’s pretty much abnormal anyway. We all want something that’s extremely rare in this world: Love. Sometimes, we go crazy after mistaking shit for Love. But we all heal. Eventually, we all learn to love more healthily and sanely. And really, that’s all that matters. The crazy is also part of the character development~♥︎

☆♪°・.

‘Hey, actually, when was it that I began to realise that there’s no such thing as forever? Even so, I’m prouder than anybody else about the fact that the days we spent together were at least not a lie.

Even though it’s true that the length of time we have lived is only slightly different, just the fact that we met, that we loved, though we may never love each other again… I won’t forget.

Hey, why do I still want you by my side, thinking that I won’t do without you, even though this is hurting me so much? Even so, I became a person who could be grateful for the smallest things in life. It’s because, even the most casual of words were so meaningful between us.

Because we met, because we loved, though we may never love each other again…I’ll be fine with turning all of it into proof that I’ll survive, whilst facing all of truth and reality.

I’m just glad that we met. I’m just glad that we loved. Though we may never see each other again… I won’t forget.’

☆♪°・.

Those are words from Ayumi Hamasaki’s legendary song, LOVE ~Destiny~. At some point in Life, Ayumi said in an interview, ‘I loved one man so much that I destroyed myself.’ I can’t help but think this song could be about…it? Maybe hahah Just a vibe, gals~♡

SONG: LOVE ~Destiny~ by Hamasaki Ayumi

MOVIE: Snakes and Earrings (2008)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – What I Can’t Let Go Of, Really, Is My Pride…

VIBE: kiss by Chara

what is, Love? – 4 of Swords

Well, it seems quite obvious your past was somewhat chaotic. I think throughout childhood you felt like you were crossing a battlefield or had to fight the stormy seas all by yourself. Because of this, you deeply crave a Love that can put an end to all of those noises. In fact, it’s only fitting. Deep down you’ve always known that Love is something that’s pure, sweet and gentle; that it’s supposed to put you at ease. You understand that the world is in chaos because nobody has Love in their hearts.

You, never wanted to be like those grownups who were fighting with their own spouses. Even if you’re young, you feel like an Old Soul—the only one who seems to truly understand what Love is and is not. And you see that 99% of people literally don’t know what Love is, let alone how to love right. And you’re afraid. What if you can’t find that one person who can love you right?

Deep in your subconscious, you have these standards and ideals you desperately want to maintain. But nobody you’ve ever met seems to understand where you’re coming from. What you want is something so pure. People are rarely pure of heart, so nobody gets it. And it feels incredibly lonely. And at some point, you might’ve begun to doubt if your standards are even fair…

why do you chase, Love? – King of Wands Rx

So you grew up a bit and began to wonder what might happen if you lower your standards…a bit? You want to experience passion, right? You’re seeing all these peers around you kissing and holding each other and you crave that, too. You know very well it’s not like they’re in love—they’re just silly, infatuated, hormonal fuckers; but you wonder how it would feel to be intimate with someone. To actually have someone want you like that. To be wanted. To be held. To be kissed. To be…loved. No matter how shallowly.

Now you’re willing to look for someone passionate. You could try with a puzzling character. You like that kinda shit. Any kind of an intriguing fucker with some semblance of a mystery; making you curious to dive deep into their side of crazy. How do I figure out your particular brand of bullshit? Anybody you can’t immediately figure out would excite you to a point of insanity. And you thought this was happiness. You thought, this level of excitement surely must be happiness. Perhaps…even Love? Otherwise…

How do you explain this feeling that suddenly strikes, rattling your heartstrings, making you realise that there’s somebody in this world you’d want to care for other than yourself? Just the idea that you even fantasise about growing older with this mysterious fucker… How is this not, Love? And if this isn’t Love…what is? How else are people supposed to know happiness if this excitement alone isn’t enough?

what happens when Love, dies? – 8 of Cups Rx

To begin with, you’re not one to trust easily. It takes a lot for you to allow someone to see your vulnerable side. And when you go in, you go all in. It may not feel like it immediately because you’re cautious, but once you’re in…because you feel sure of someone…you’re in deep. Too deep it feels like you’re drowning in this whole situation, if anything. And you’re proud of how much you’re able to give.

And…you’re generally proud of your boundaries and the standards and ideals you’ve imposed upon yourself and others. So, the fact that you’ve given so much, revealed so much to someone who wouldn’t be there for life, is beyond frustrating. It’s world-shattering, at least. What have I been in this situationship/relationship for if it ain’t gonna last?!?! I can’t just let it die like that! Maybe I’m doing something wrong?! I must’ve! Lest none of this would’ve happened…

When Love dies, it feels so shameful. It’s a shame you trusted the wrong fucker. It’s a shame someone was able to see you that vulnerable. It’s disgusting that you thought this was The One. What was I thinking? Now everything becomes clear. It’s not the loss of that person’s Love you’re crying about. If you’re being honest now, you couldn’t care less that such a loser’s gone from your world. If anything, it’s such a relief. It was just the shock from knowing you made a mistake that made you cry… It’s OK now.

MY HEART, MY PRIDE🔻💜

sacrifices I’d made – Green Magus (John Magus)

I’m glad I was able to love – Priestess of Ambition

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – I Can’t Tell If I’m Passionate or Just Immature

VIBE: Boys & Girls by Hamasaki Ayumi

what is, Love? – Ace of Pentacles Rx

To begin with, you’re not exactly a rational person. Not saying you’re dumb! You just have a lot of passion for something that’s unexpected or foreign. You like mysteries and you aren’t afraid to dip your toe in uncharted waters. This desire could’ve developed from having a childhood that felt constricted tho. I think you grew up surrounded by so many rules and laws and forbidden things and that’s how you developed a taste for, DANGER~

It’s exciting, from time to time, to think about throwing all your caution to the wind and breaking all rules. You want to disappoint. If you’re being honest, you’re damn tired of following everybody’s whims and concerning yourself with their expectations. What about what I want?? You want to live. You want to feel alive. There are so many exciting things outside of your everyday Life, why can’t you have any of that? At some point, you could’ve dreamt of being rescued from your Tower by a handsome daredevil of any kind of a fucker.

If that fucker happens to be handsome and rich, even better. But that doesn’t really matter. You just want someone brave enough to approach you and actually uproot you from your boring Life. Surely, Love can do that to a person…? I don’t need stability, let alone predictability; what I want is a romantic hero who’ll take me on a grand adventure of Love! And if that daredevil happens to be dumb…

why do you chase, Love? – 9 of Swords

In many ways, you’re totally not an innocent person. You want to hurt. If whoever daredevil tries to fulfil your fantasies of being rescued from your miserable Tower happens to be dumb, you’re gonna be having a field trip! XD You want to terrorise and traumatise a person, really. It’s vengeance for all the years that you were serving others. Now, it’s your time to be served. It doesn’t even matter if they don’t worship you. You’re ready to find another dumbfuck to toy with. You’re hardly ever sincere anyway~

Why bother with sincerity? Ever since you were a kid, you’ve observed that none of the adults you knew was ever sincere. What even is Love? I think you know of it conceptually. But what exactly is its purpose? What exactly is so good about it? And how? How exactly must one be in order to attain it? You don’t believe in it some days. You deeply crave it some days. You could die for it some days. You want others to die for your Love most days.

Life is confusing. Love is confusing. Sex is easy. Money is easy. Food and jewelleries are easy. Let’s live easily. Life is exhausting if you think too much about everything that could go wrong. I’m done feeling terrible about my own existence, so I want someone to spin me around and make me forget. That’s ideal. Is generally your motto when chasing… Love♡

what happens when Love, dies? – 8 of Wands Rx

You don’t care about it. You don’t particularly care about losing people. It’s expected. If anything, because you’re never serious with quite anybody anyway, ghosting is the best way to go about it. You’re the type to ghost, block, and you don’t even mind if you’re the one ghosted or blocked. Basically, you just don’t want any contact with someone you’ve lost interest in anyway. So that only makes it easier for you.

In many ways, I think you sometimes regret being this kind of a callous person. There are days you wonder if you’ll become someone more sincere. You’ve wondered what it would take to actually love someone. To actually be loved back. Surely that must be so nice. You want to be happy, honestly. But it feels like a distant daydream. You don’t particularly understand how two people can be happy living together. After all, you find people exhausting most of the time.

All you know is that you’ve lived with yourself for the longest time. And if you have to compromise or sacrifice anything…you’re not willing. You’ve sacrificed shit before, a looong time ago, and you got nothing back in return. You gave someone a rose and they gave you back thorns and strangled you with it. Surely that can’t be happiness. Two people who don’t know how to love can’t be happy together. Life is better lived alone.

MY HEART, MY PRIDE🔻❤️

sacrifices I’d made – Red Alchemist (John Dee)

I’m glad I was able to love – Priestess of Innocence

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Pile 3 – Damn, Why’s Everybody Crying for Love?

VIBE: Sunglasses by Utada Hikaru

what is, Love? – 2 of Cups Rx

Uhm…you’re a comical Pile for sure. Your psychology is so complex, although it’s also super straightforward (to you), but some people are not gonna have an easy time figuring out if you’re sincere or not. Most of us have got a lot of exposure to tragical romance, right? A lot of people get deep and insane in Love. And here you are wondering why everybody’s crying for Love. Why is everybody suffering in the name of Love? That’s not Love. People are silly for falling continuously for the wrong people. It’s all a Game for them. Me? I don’t play games.

But you do! Everybody does when it comes to falling in Love, to various extents. That’s what’s really fun about falling in Love. If you could face yourself, you’d realise you have a bit of a God-complex within this context. In the sense that…because Love and romance actually aren’t such a big deal to you, and somehow, you have an almost all-too-natural inclination to attract the right people, you can’t really empathise with those who cry in the name of Love.

For some though, if the above doesn’t really resonate, you’re the type that has an innate understanding that you must protect yourself from falling into those tragical romantic setups. You have a highly developed sense of boundary and you keep high standards for what kind of a romantic relationship you want. You’re kinda similar to Pile 1 in this case, but you most likely haven’t experienced sacrificing your standards for, EXPERIENCE~

why do you chase, Love? – 10 of Wands

In comparison to certain types of people in the world, you’re not exactly a dreamy type. When it comes to relationships you think straight towards building a matrimony with someone. You’re a traditionalist in a sense. You’re the based kid who knows that a girlfriend-boyfriend relationship is a training ground for a marriage. You think long-term. You’re realistic like that. But the problem is…you’re totally missing out on the passion of Love itself.

You don’t really see your partner(s) for the person—the Human—that they are. You care only for the practical, pragmatic facts surrounding their reputation or status or whether or not their physical appearance is decent enough. Stuff like that. And the dreamy ones who look at you, look at you with a pang of sadness in their chest, for although you seem responsible and blessed…you appear to them as someone who looks at another with an eye of business.

You’re the type that thinks love is an investment. An investment of attention, affection, time and money, and all that shit. That’s not Love; that’s something to be exchanged at the market. The dating market, OMG~

‘Freedom and love go together. Love is not a reaction. If I love you because you love me, that is mere trade, a thing to be bought in the market; it is not love. To love is not to ask anything in return, not even to feel that you are giving something—and it is only such love that can know freedom.’ – Jiddu Krishnamurti

what happens when Love, dies? – 6 of Pentacles

When Love dies, you celebrate. You’re wise enough to know that Life doesn’t end just because you broke up with somebody, even in terms of friendship. You’re spiritually mature enough to know you’ve learnt from the experience, and now, you’re just going to prepare for the next big thing to experience. Life goes on without a hitch like that for you, for the most part. I can’t tell if you’re really that spiritually mature or you just don’t give a fuck about emotions LMAO

Not saying you’re a bad person, btw. It just seems like you haven’t got a lot of crazy in your birth chart or that you haven’t experienced a lot of sorrows and soul-shattering heartbreaks, so…it’s kinda just a matter of not having, PERSPECTIVE? Coupled with the fact that you take Life very unseriously seriously…? Like, you’re serious about not being an asshole and wanting to do the socially right thing, but in doing so, you become an annoying insincere jackass in the lives of those who have (or will) dated you XDD

Basically, you’re not the type to get super crazy heartbroken when a relationship ends. You’ve got all of these other blessings anyway. Why would you focus on just the negative, right? In a sense, I believe that’s an incredible spiritual maturity which others are still struggling to figure out XD But yeah…rather than this being something abnormal about you, I think it’s just that your Higher Self designed for you not to experience the dramatic highs and lows of immature romance HAHAH

MY HEART, MY PRIDE🔻🧡

sacrifices I’d made – Gold Alchemist (Roger Bacon)

I’m glad I was able to love – Priestess of Luck

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

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atsumutu · 2 years ago

Text

“Hajime, are you bored?”

The raven haired man peers up from his phone, instantly locking the device and pocketing it when he sees the concern etched across your face.

Shaking his head, Iwaizumi gives you a gentle smile. It only takes him a few steps to reach you. “No, just checking my emails.”

Unconvinced, you rest a palm on his chest. It wasn’t like you had forced the man to come out with you. Ever the attentive boyfriend, Iwaizumi had made it his mission to spend some time with you after a hectic few weeks of work - even if that meant spending the day following you into countless stores.

“Are you sure? I know this isn’t really your thing.” you mumble, gesturing lamely at the store.

“Baby, no.” he plants a soft kiss on your temple. “I love spending time with you. Even if it means becoming your personal bag holder.” Iwaizumi lifts an arm, biceps curling underneath his t shirt as he lifts a plethora of shopping bags with ease, 90% of the contents belonging to you.

He watches the way your eyes draw towards his muscle and with the tiniest lift of his lips, he whispers. “I’m starting to think you only bring me along so you can have me carry your bags and ogle me.”

Rolling your eyes, you lightly slap his chest. “You’re the one who always insists on coming with me and carrying all my bags.”

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow as if to ask are you sure?

Scoffing, you offer no solid denial, only a light push that does nothing to move the brute standing before you. Iwaizumi smiles down at you, endeared by the attempt.

“Seriously though, Hajime, I can go around by myself. Why don’t you go home and rest?”

Now he’s confused. It’s the second time you’ve tried to send him home and he’s racking his brain to see if he may have upset you somehow but he keeps coming up blank. Finally giving up, he decides to ask you.

“Why?” he squints his eyes playfully, “You got another man around to carry your stuff for you?” When you don’t respond to his joke, the raven furrows his brows. Calloused palms come to rest on your cheek. “I’m fine, love.”

And sure he looked fine, Iwaizumi was as tough as nails. But not even he could handle the crazy hours he had been working the last couple of weeks and you could tell he was close to running on fumes.

“Ha ha, very funny.” taking a hold of his wrist, you peer up at the man. “Let’s just go home. I think i’ve bought enough-“

“No.” He’s curt and the unexpected sharpness in his tone cuts you a lot deeper than he would have ever intended. You blink at his words, guilt, concern and a flash of hurt painting across your features. Sighing, Iwaizumi rests his forehead on your shoulder, groaning in what you guess is regret.

Your first instinct is to comfort him, so you do. Weaving your fingers through his dark tresses, you let him soak in your warmth.

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“I know, Haji.”

With a final sigh, he slumps back a step. “Shit, maybe I do need to get my ass home.” he chuckles half heartedly.

Humming, you take a step forward to reach him, mischief brimming in your tone. “Well if you’d just listened to me the first time I wouldn’t be here trying to calm down Mr Grumpy Pants himself.”

“Watch it.” he snipes, no real bite behind his words.

And in all your childish glory, you stick your tongue out at him.

Iwaizumi looks wholly amused. When was the last time someone stuck their tongue out at him? Then, he remembers who his best friend is and any trace of amusement is gone. “That Oikawa is a shitty influence on you.” he grumbles.

“Come on, let’s go.” you giggle, reaching for his free hand to lead him towards the exit.

“Hey,” he calls, softly tugging at your hands to halt your steps, “I love you.”

Despite the gruff texture of his voice, you would never tire of how softly those words would fall from his lips.

“I love you too.” lifting your entwined fingers up, you seal your words with a quick kiss to the back of his hand. “Now, can we finally go home?”

Iwaizumi smiles, fond. “Let's go home.”

#iwaizumi boyfriend of the year every year #and no one can tell me any different #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi haikyuu #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #hajime x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu scenarios #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff

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pickingupmymercedes · 24 days ago

Text

Let it happen - Lewis Hamilton

Part of 1K Jukebox Event

song: Let it happen - Gracie Abrams - @alessandrahamilton

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

genre: angst with hints of fluff (because apparently that's a favorite around here)

wordcount: +2k

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

The morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and golden, the kind of light that makes you forget the world can be sharp and unkind.

I blinked, rubbing the last traces of sleep from my eyes, before the familiarity of the room tugged me back to reality.

His room. His LA house.

You’d think I’d be smarter by now. But here I am, in his bed, heart in hand, ready to offer it up like a fool for the hundredth time.

I shifted under the weight of the sheets, the scent of him clinging to the air—cologne, something clean and woodsy, mixed with that hint of soap I’ve come to know too well.

We’re really doing this again, aren’t we?

I pushed myself upright, trying not to think about how easily I fell back into the shape of his life, like I never really left.

I caught sight of his sweater thrown over by the stool, my shoes kicked off somewhere near the door, evidence of another night spent tiptoeing through familiar, dangerous territory.

The house was quiet, just the faint hum of LA outside, muffled by the walls.

Maybe I should go back to sleep and hope to wake up in the right bed this time. Maybe I should grab my stuff and sneak out before he sees me. Save myself the trouble of figuring out what this is all over again.

But I pulled on his sweater without a second thought—apparently, I wasn’t done making bad decisions.

I tiptoe my way toward the kitchen, half-expecting to find him there, making one of those post-workout protein shakes he pretends taste good. But the space is empty—spotless countertops, gleaming appliances, and a bowl of perfectly arranged avocados I’m sure he didn’t buy himself.

What am I doing here?

And it’s a good question, one I’ve asked myself a million times. What the hell am I doing, letting myself get caught up in this again?

I know how this ends. We’ve been here before. Me standing in his kitchen, wearing his clothes, convincing myself that I can handle whatever this is without losing my mind.

The house still smelled like it always did, fresh coffee and the faint scent of whatever aroma he insists on using in his humidifier.

My eyes catching on little things as I passed. Roscoe’s leash on the counter, a half-read book on the couch, my own scarf tossed carelessly over the armrest. The one from the last time I was in this house.

A reminder of the life we’d built, the one we let slip through our fingers. The one I’m trying to convince myself we can build again.

Because of course, I’m always hoping, always diving back in, like there’s some magical version of reality that won’t end with both of us in pieces.

Like I can out-stubborn heartbreak this time.

I reached the sliding door to the porch, my hand hesitating over the handle. I can see him sitting on the steps, Roscoe curled up beside him, the morning sun painting him like this ethereal soul. Peaceful. At ease.

Like he wasn’t wrestling with the same mess that tangled inside me.

His hand moved absently scratching behind Roscoe’s ears, and the sight made my chest feel too tight, too full. All at once.

I hate how much I’ve missed this. Him. Us. It’s ridiculous, really.

I should have learned by now that this is what we always do. Like we’re some kind of tragic romantic who never learn when to walk away.

I slid the door open, trying to keep quiet, but the wheels rattled against the track, betraying me.

He glanced over his shoulder, and a slow smile curved his lips when he saw me. I felt my chest squeeze at the sight, and I swear I try to ignore it.

“Hey,” he says softly, like he’s afraid of breaking the quiet. “Didn’t hear you get up.”

“Yeah, well, you were busy this handsome.” I nod towards Roscoe, who’s already trotting over to me, his body dancing like we’re old friends.

I crouch down to give him a scratch behind the ears, trying to ignore the way my chest tightens when Lewis just keeps watching me, his expression open and unguarded in a way that makes me feel like I’m on the verge of falling apart.

“You want some coffee?” he offers, lifting his mug like it’s some peace offering. “There’s more inside.”

I shrug, trying to keep my voice casual. “I’ll get some in a minute.”

He nods and looks back out at the horizon, like he’s giving me space to settle into the morning. But I don’t move. I just stand there, feeling like an outsider in a place I used to know so well.

And the worst part, I’m not even sure which of us is to blame for that.

All countless nights I spent lying awake, wondering if I’d made a mistake in letting him go. Wondering if I should’ve fought harder, stayed longer, done something other than walk away before he could hurt me.

“You okay?” His voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and I look up to find him softly watching me.

It’s a loaded question, and we both know it, but he says it like he’s genuinely hoping for a real answer.

I swallow hard, trying to find the right words. “Yeah, I’m—yeah. Just...thinking.”

He nodded, like he understood—like he always did. His gaze back to the yard, to the stretch of green that separated the house from the rest of LA, and I watched him in the quiet, studying the lines of his face in the early light.

The very ones I’d memorized, the ones I’d convinced myself I could forget.

But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it? To forget?

Because, here I am, standing on his porch in borrowed clothes, like I’m hoping that somehow, being in his space will help me figure out if this is worth the inevitable heartbreak I know is lurking, waiting for any crack.

And it’s never really been about him hurting me, has it? It’s about me letting it happen. It’s about me choosing this—choosing him—over and over again, knowing full well how the story goes.

And … I can’t seem to stop.

It would be so much easier to walk away. To pack up my things, leave before we can fall into the same patterns that broke us the first time.

To save myself from the way he looks at me like I’m the only thing that matters, only to feel it slip away when reality catches up.

But there’s something about him—about us—that keeps pulling me back. Like there’s a part of me that believes, against all logic and reason, that maybe this time will be different.

Lewis’s voice broke through my thoughts, low and even. “You know, you think too much.”

I let out a scoff that came out too breathy, too light. “Thanks for the insight, Dr. Hamilton. Real helpful.”

He chuckled, and it was the kind of sound that used to unravel me, back when we still believed we had time.

The kind that still does, deep down.

“It’s true, though. I can practically hear you thinking all the way over here.”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” I shot back, trying for a smirk, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes.

He just hummed, and the sound settled between us, comfortable, like we’d slipped back into an old rhythm. “I know. But you don’t have to figure everything out right now.”

And there it was, that knowing tone. It dug under my skin, pricking at all the places I’d tried to keep hidden.

Because of course he’d see right through me—he always did. And that’s what terrified me the most. He knew me, maybe even better than I knew myself, and that, that made it so much harder to walk away.

I found myself crossing the porch, sinking down next to Lewis. Our shoulders brushed, a familiar pull that had a hold on me, no matter how many times I tried to tell myself I was over that.

Over him.

I glanced sideways at him, catching the way the morning light softened the edges of his face. And for a moment, I let myself wonder what he saw when he looked at me.

If he saw the same girl he fell for the first time around, or just the mess I’d become since.

“What makes you think I’m trying to figure anything out?”

He shrugged, but there was a gentle smile tugging at his lips, like he didn’t need to say it. Because he could see right through my deflection.

“I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re overthinking everything. And I know that look on your face. The one when you were convinced the whole world is falling apart.”

I let out a huff, pulling my knees to my chest, resting my chin on them. The porch creaked under my movement, and I found myself focusing on the sound, anything to distract from the way he was looking at me, like I was something fragile and precious. “Yeah, well, sometimes my world feels like it’s falling apart.”

He didn’t look away, and his silence made my skin itch, like he was waiting for me to say something more. When I didn’t, he finally spoke, voice soft, but steady. “You think I don’t get it? That I haven’t replayed all the ways we could’ve made it work if we’d just... tried?”

I swallowed, the words cutting through me. “And what makes you think trying again will be any different?”

Lewis leaned back, his shoulders brushing against the wooden steps as he considered my question. His hand drifted back to Roscoe, absently scratching behind his ears.

It was a moment before he answered, his voice rough around the edges, like he’d thought about this more times than he’d ever admit. “Maybe I don’t. Maybe I don’t think it’ll be different.”

I blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. He wasn’t making promises, wasn’t offering some fairy-tale ending. He just looked at me with those steady eyes, the ones that always seemed to see right through me, right down to the parts of myself I tried to hide.

“But I do know something” he continued, and there was a weight to his words, like he was choosing them carefully. “Every time you walk away, I keep thinking, ‘What if?’ What if we just got it wrong, and we could get it right if we gave ourselves the chance?”

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to ignore the hope that his words stirred up in me. “And what if we just keep hurting each other all over again? What if we’re both just too stubborn to admit that it’s time to let go?”

Lewis turned to look at me then, his expression softer than I expected. “That’s what makes it worth trying to me. Neither of us seems to know how to really give up. Not on us. Not completely.”

I let out a shaky breath, my fingers tracing the hem of his sweater on my lap. It felt like there was a storm building in my chest, all those feelings I’d kept locked up threatening to spill out.

I didn’t know what to do with them, how to make sense of this thing between us that felt so much like a second chance and a ticking time bomb all at once.

He reached out then, his hand brushing against mine, a gentle touch that was almost like a challenge. “I’m not asking you to forget the past. I’m not even asking you to believe that we won’t mess this up again. But I am asking you to stop pretending like you don’t want this. That you don’t want me.”

And I couldn’t. Because he was right.

As much as a part of me would argue that I could, should, walk away, that I’d be better off if I just left before the inevitable hurt came crashing down, I still wanted him. Ached for him.

I met his gaze, letting him see the uncertainty, the fear, the hope that I couldn’t quite bury.

He held my gaze, unwavering. “Let’s be afraid together. One more time. Let’s make a mess of it, and figure it out as we go. Because I’m tired, too. Of pretending like I don’t want you here. Tired of acting like I don’t see a future where we get it right.”

And I knew, even if I tried to deny it, that for him, I’d hand him my life.

______________________________________________________________

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marxo-fm · 1 year ago

Text

Sessions; ii

—highly suggest you read part one first.

Summary: König admits his obsession that he has with you to the point where it’s unbearable, as the two of you make up for the time missing in your office.

Warnings: Mentions of adult themes and language, some plot with smut, smut smut smut—did I forget to say..smut? innocent!reader, virgin!reader, Obsessed!König, mutual masturbation (I lowk surprised myself with this omg) König teaches the reader some things, praising, size kink.

Words: 2.2K

A/N: CREDITS TO @/xbruised_peachx ON TWITTER!!! CHECK HER WORK OUT it’s seriously amazing. This fic is so filthy like I seriously can’t believe I wrote this, but can you blame me? SMH. There will be a part three after this so bare with me, and I’m sure part three would be the final part. Maybe soon after I’ll write a Ghost fic, (wink wink) Btw I created a playlist for this fic and it’s on my masterlist! And let me know if you want to be on my taglist for part three!!! Okay, bye bye now peeps, thanks for reading! :)

You consumed all of König like a drug he just can’t let go of, you were his addiction, the only person that keeps his mind at ease from the world; and he’s sure he’ll never be sober. Because he’s nothing without you.

——

“What?” You pant, looking at him through your heavy eyelids. His sea colored eyes gazed your upon your flushed body once more, swearing under his breath that he may not be able to contain himself once he’s inside. Inside your mind and body. When he said he wasn’t done—and that he’s just getting started—had you feeling unknown emotions. You’re anticipating what he’s going to do with you, and you shift on his thigh that is soaked with your juices from actions before.

You can’t help but blush, feeling rather shy underneath his strong gaze. The tension almost unbearable, the sexual tension. He is eager to touch you, to taste you, and to fucking feel you under his touch.

You clouded his mind, making it harder for him to form sane thoughts.

“I said, we’re not done, Schatz.” He chuckled, his mood shifted from before. Seeming more possessive and more hungry. Starving. “What are you going to do?” You question, and that right there—made König glare at you. Burning holes through your eyes. Nothing but hunger behind those eyes, almost the same as a hungry predator finally having their prey in sight.

In that situation, König is the predator, and you’re the prey.

He kept you there, on his thigh, until he spoke. What he said next absolutely shocked you to the extreme, “no no, I’m not going to do anything—liebe. I’m just going to watch, watch as you please yourself for me. Can you do that?” He smirks under his mask, from what you can tell, his eyes lightened up in admiration. Seeing how you fell apart little by little, and it’s all because of him.

You stammer, unable to form words correctly as his statement. Your stomach flipped and heat took over your body once more. “I..oh,” you whispered, goosebumps form all across your skin. “Lie down, Prinzessin.” You paused for a minute before finally processing König’s order. You obeyed, and that only turned him on more than he already was. If that was possible.

You made it so fucking easy for him.

“Look at me, mein Schatz, don’t be nervous.” He assured, “you have no fucking idea what you do to me.” König admits, shifting his entire body towards you on the couch. You almost want to hide from his eyes, those eyes that tell so much yet so little.

He moves closer, his rough hands are placed on both of your knees and you yearned for him to search your entire body. “Every second of my day, everyday, you haunt my mind. I finally have you, I finally fucking have you, Mein Liebe .” Your breath caught in your throat, you want to speak—you really do—but he admitted how much he thinks of you, right in front of you. I’m going crazy too. You thought, what he confessed last session was really true, and now you’re just as crazy.

He wants to fill the void, the void that kept you two apart for almost months. Now, König will make up for the precious time missing.

“König, I don’t know what to say.” You confess, holding yourself steady with your arms behind yourself. In all honesty, you really didn’t know what to say. It was difficult to form any thoughts at the moment. “I don’t need you to say anything.” He said lowly, his rough hands rubs circles on your knees. His touch drove you insane, (he’s only touching you—yet you feel like you’re going to pass out.)

“Soft.” He states, spreading your legs wider and you gasped at his actions. Your skirt rode up, revealing little to his imagination. Your soft skin under his rough touch was enough to kill a man on the spot. Most certainly a six foot ten man.

“We’re going to take it slow,” he began, his German accent thick. “And then slowly, I’ll have you unravel in my hands.” You want to tell him that you have already fallen apart underneath him, and suddenly, he’s hovering over you.

He’s big. His huge torso blocked your view of the ceiling and you gulp. He leans down to your ear and you shiver, “let me be the therapist for tonight, liebe, let me be the one that eases your mind.” He offered, and you quickly accept it.

Though his words had your heart racing to the end, beating against your ribcage, felt as though your heart completely stopped. You let him take full control of you, you allowed it and you don’t regret it one bit.

He backs away, and the emptiness of his heated body left yours, leaving you feeling cold. Just come back and touch me yourself.

He watches you, not saying a word as you both held intense eye contact. His sea blue eyes soon trained on your panties, and in response, you clasp your thighs together. Everything in König’s eyes changed, his eyes are now possessed with anger. “Open.” He demanded in a voice so different from before.

König’s entire demeanor changed, “I..I’m sorry.” You stammered, his mood doesn’t change after your apology and now—you wish you’d never done what you did. You think of something, something that’ll get his mood to change.

You figured it out, you honestly surprised yourself for what you’re about to do. Slowly, you take your fingers and trail them up to your thighs. Your fingers go under the hem of your black underwear. He cursed under his breath, and that tells you that you succeeded. But you’re confused as to what to do next, you know you’re supposed to touch yourself, and that made you feel hundreds of feelings.

But you didn’t want to do anything yet, you patiently wait on him to say something. To speak.

“Remove them, Liebe.” The word Liebe, you wonder what it means. You look at him for a few seconds, then you proceed. Obediently taking your panties off and your hands shake while doing so, you’re immensely nervous and too flustered to comprehend anything. He helps slide them off your legs and then throws them on the ground. Too consumed with the way you presented yourself in front of him, it felt like his soul ascended.

(…)

He wanted to fuck you right then and there, the sight of your pretty pussy soaked with legs open wide, all for him. All for König.

Holy fuck. He murmured to himself. He can’t help his painfully aching cock bulging against his pants, and he’s holding back every attempt to stuff you full. König’s using every muscle and strength he has in his body to withstand his desires. “So pretty, and it’s all mine. All of it.” He growled, your hand covered your slick cunt and he let’s you do it.

“Mein Schatz, touch yourself for me, think you can do that? Hm?” You nod, vigorously. Quickly, you touch your sweet spot and slowly rub yourself. Your touch had you throwing your head back, but König didn’t want you to look away. “No, face me. Look at me.” He demanded, not allowing you to hide yourself.

He gives you another minute, trying his best to not thrust his fingers in your throbbing pussy. He really tried. “Doing so good,” he praised. You shove a finger inside and you let out small whines. Those whines that König wanted to turn into screams. You screaming his name would be burned into his memory till the day he passes.

(…)

Your finger wasn’t enough, and embarrassingly, you didn’t really know how to please yourself other than just rub slow circles. He saw your face twist in frustration, your fingers trembling before him and unable to fully insert your small fingers in. You whine, needing him more than ever.

“Want me to teach you? Liebe?” You nod, mind going dizzy at the thought of him touching you.

Now how can he decline when you asked politely? He couldn’t.

He brought his thumb to your clit, and sparks run through your entire veins. He fulfilled your wish, rubbing circles on your clit with his rough thumb and he found amusement the way his simple touch had you gasping for air. You instinctively buckled your hips and moved back and forth, desperate to have him move his thumb move faster. “No, be patient, Schatz.” He demanded sternly, whines and whimpers left your mouth from his torturous speed.

“Please, I need..you.” It’s you saying it instead of König, and he couldn’t deny that it made him crave you more. His thumb suddenly quickens its pace, then, he stops. You whimpered at the sudden action, “why’d you stop?” You huffed in frustration, wanting more and more and more.

He doesn’t answer your question, instead, he shoves his calloused middle finger inside your throbbing cunt with no warning. The size difference of just his finger, had you breathless. You’re not sure if you could go on, thinking to yourself how he’d fit inside you when his middle finger is already stuffing you full.

You felt like you were drowning, all water was filling your lungs and you were no longer breathing. It’s what this felt like. The burning pleasure that was also painful had you gripping onto König’s wrist. No—it wasn’t because you wanted him to stop—that’s not it, he was going painfully slow. Taking his time with you. The time that was wasted between the two of you.

He suddenly curls his middle finger and goes incredibly faster. The sounds of his finger and your slick filled the silence of the office, and you felt shame. Still, you didn’t care, you wanted more. Whimpers, whines and König’s name leaving your mouth echoed in the room, and he swore he could die on the spot.

That was enough to drive a man to insane levels.

“Fuck, du bist so süß!” He groaned in German, and you can’t deny it, him speaking German made you burn with arousal. “W-what does that mean?” You ask, as if he’s your German instructor. “You sound so sweet, liebe.” He expressed, taking his thumb and rubbing circles on you sweet spot while his other hand thrusts faster.

Not only did you learn something in German, you learned what it finally felt like to truly feel alive. You’ve never felt more alive than this moment.

His finger continues to pump in and out of you, faster. His fingers coated knuckles deep with your slick, and he chuckled at the sight, earning a moan from you. König brushed over your g-spot continuously, something you were never able to do with your own fingers.

He’s a big man. So big it’s almost inhumanly impossible. Like he was crafted by the Greek Gods themselves.

“I wish you could see how beautiful you look.” Mentioned König, you couldn’t help but blush more at his praise. It only makes you closer to your finish line, so close.

“König,” you sighed, “I am so close..” his eyes diverts its focus to your flushed face, letting out a deep groan. “Yeah? How close, Schatz?” He teased, you furrow your brows in frustration. He inserts another finger out of nowhere and your breath is caught in your throat, “oh!” You shout. Electric shocks run throughout the entirety of your body.

“Tell me now, how close?” He huffed, though you couldn’t process what came out of his mouth, since you’re lost deep inside of heaven. Your eyes roll back and your mouth gaped open, gripping your skirt that’s at your hips with both of your hands.

Your vision turns black and you see nothing but stars, and König’s eyes trained at your arousal. You thought you lost hearing, since all you could hear was a loud ring in both of your ears. Your orgasm hitting you like a hammer to a nail. “Oh darling, no need to say a word, you were closer than I thought.” He quipped, taking his fingers out painfully slow.

The cold air made you wince, feeling the emptiness of his warmth when he took his fingers out of you. König left you stunned, taking his fingers into his mouth and finally tasting you.

As if tasting your mouth wasn’t enough, he tasted your arousal and your stomach flipped. The sight of him tasting you was something you’d see in a daydream, but that turned real. He licks his fingers clean, then looks at you hungrily. Leaving him addicted to your taste, and he wanted more.

“Divine.” He groaned, leaning into your body and dipping his head into your neck. Lifting his mask up and proceeding to kiss your neck, licking stripes of your skin. It was all so much for you, too much. It felt was like your soul ascended to the heavens, and it was König who made you feel like that. You feel so hazy, so lost in your emotions and feelings. It felt ecstatic, the heat between your legs became hotter when König kisses you.

Allowing you to taste yourself inside his mouth, almost unbelievable.

The kiss this time was tender and soft, but it quickly switched to the kiss from before. You wrap your hands around the nape of his neck, leaning him impossibly closer, and your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Allowing him deeper inside your soul.

“This will be a night you will never forget, Liebling, I will make you beg to have more, mein Schatz, my treasure. Mine.”

——

NOTE: Omg it’s finally out after just writing on it for a few days, I felt so motivated just finish this part. Which means there’ll be a third part, concluding the end of this series! I genuinely want to thank those for reading, means so much to me! :) Be sure to check the masterlist!

✯ Taglist! - @liyanahelena @sleepy-time-dreamy @yourmomsmilfmistress @backgroundgirl887 @cumikering @aly0be

#call of duty #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig #könig fanfiction #könig x reader #konig cod #konig mw2 #konig smut #könig smut #call of duty mw2 #ao3feed #fanfiction #cod mw fanfiction #fanfic #könig headcanons #könig x you #könig modern warfare #könig call of duty

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solxamber · 1 month ago

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Madly in love with how you write the twst cast its all so good genuinely read the idia x sentient npc one and its SO GOOD I THINK NBJVSD

Tossing in a request since it seems like theyre open,,

How about headcanons oneshot whatever you feel like writing, for Azul in mer form x a reader, who understands what he feels about himself, since before they were frequently bullied too, giving way for reader having a terrible self esteem and image of themselves, so when they happen to see him in merform, with the knowledge of his own opinions of his merform, theyre actively being incredibly encouraging and affectionate towards him maybe moreso than normal, to show they arent gonna hate him for just being himself

Romantic preferred but go with whatever ya wanna if you do end up writin, have a good day ! :]

Good enough - Azul x Reader

Thank you so much!! I'm really glad you liked it! 🫶 and thanks for the request <3 I hope you like it!

Azul had always been self-conscious about his merform. He’d avoid showing it at any cost, especially to you. The sight of his tentacles felt like a reminder of everything he was insecure about. His mind was quick to dredge up memories of those who had ridiculed him—distant echoes that still haunted him.

But today, fate had conspired against him.

You didn’t mean to stumble upon him while he was in his merform, swimming quietly in a private lagoon, seeking solitude. The moment your eyes met his, Azul froze. Panic coursed through him, and his tentacles twitched in agitation. He wanted to flee, to hide, to get out of sight before you said anything that might sting.

Azul immediately tried to disappear beneath the water, a soft ripple marking where he’d submerged. But you could see the tips of his tentacles, still close to the surface, betraying his location.

“Azul?” you called out gently, trying not to spook him. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

A few bubbles rose to the surface. Slowly, his head appeared again, water cascading off his shoulders. He wouldn’t meet your gaze, his eyes averted in shame. “I… didn’t think you’d be here.”

“Neither did I,” you said with a light chuckle, settling yourself by the water's edge. “But since I am, why don’t you talk to me?”

He hesitated, tentacles curling around him protectively. His gaze flickered up briefly before darting back down again. It wasn’t like Azul to look so… vulnerable. You waited patiently, giving him the time to collect his thoughts, refusing to press too hard.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he whispered, “I know I shouldn’t care. It’s been years. I’ve built myself up to be powerful, untouchable.” He paused, his voice trembling slightly. “But… the bullying… it still got to me more than I’d like to admit.”

The admission felt like it had been pulled from deep within him, something he’d kept buried for far too long. It hurt to hear him speak with such anguish, the usually confident Azul now stripped of his armor.

You slid closer, dipping your feet into the water as if bridging the distance between you could make your words sink deeper. “Azul, that doesn’t make you weak. It doesn’t make you less than what you’ve become.”

Azul’s eyes flicked up to you, filled with a mixture of surprise and uncertainty. His tentacles, once coiled tightly around him, relaxed just slightly.

“Those people—they didn’t define you. You’ve done that for yourself,” you continued, voice steady and firm. “And you’ve built something incredible, something they could never take from you. But it’s okay if it still hurts. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

He was silent for a long moment, letting your words sink in. Slowly, his tentacles began to uncurl further, stretching out in the water like a silent surrender.

“You know, I was bullied too when I was younger."

Azul's gaze flickered, his usual composure faltering. He wasn't expecting that. You had always seemed so confident, so at ease. He could scarcely imagine you feeling the same shame he had once felt.

"I get it. People can be cruel, and they don’t need a good reason to tear you down. I thought it was because something was wrong with me… because I wasn’t ‘good enough’ for them to be kind."

Azul remained silent, but you saw his posture relax ever so slightly. You continued, voice softer, “But I’m starting to realize… that I’m not what they said I was. And neither are you.”

His tentacles curled in close again, an instinctive defense. His voice was hesitant when he spoke. “And what am I, in your eyes?”

You let out a small chuckle, shaking your head. “Someone who doesn’t have to hide. Someone who’s clever, capable… and worth being proud of. Tentacles or not.”

Azul was staring now, looking for any trace of deception or insincerity in your words. But he found none. Instead, he found your gentle gaze, filled with admiration that made his heart race in ways he couldn’t quite explain.

"You’re... not disgusted?" he asked softly, the vulnerability in his tone almost breaking your heart.

"Disgusted?" You laughed gently. "Azul, no way. Actually..." You leaned in conspiratorially, "I think you look beautiful."

Azul looked at you then, truly looked at you. His eyes were wide with surprise, as though he couldn’t believe what you’d just said. Slowly, his lips quirked up into a faint smile, tentative but genuine.

“Beautiful, huh?” he asked softly, a touch of amusement in his tone, but there was something deeper in his gaze—something vulnerable and hopeful.

You smiled back at him. “Absolutely. And, Azul… you don’t have to hide from me. I see you. All of you. And I’m not going anywhere.”

His heart stuttered in his chest. He’d never expected to hear words like that, not directed at him, not sincerely. And from you? Someone he held in such high regard? Azul wasn’t sure how to respond, so he did the only thing he could—he let your words sink in.

As he studied you—his tentacles uncoiling slowly in the water—you reached out, your hand grazing the smooth surface of one of them. His breath hitched, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, your touch was light, affectionate. Comforting.

For the first time in a long while, Azul felt… accepted. He felt like he didn’t need to hide, not from you. The world might still be cruel, but with you by his side, it didn’t seem so overwhelming.

In a quieter voice, you added with a teasing grin, “Plus, if anyone has a problem with your tentacles, you could just... slap them out of the way, right?”

Azul’s laugh bubbled up unexpectedly—rich and genuine. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You both shared a warm silence for a moment before he raised one of his hands from the water. His fingers were delicate and graceful as he reached for yours, gently intertwining them. “Thank you… for seeing me.”

You gave his hand a small squeeze, your voice filled with determination. “You don’t have to thank me, Azul. I’m always going to see you.”

As you sat there, your hand intertwined with Azul's, the world seemed to slow down around you. The soft ripple of the water, the gentle warmth of the sun filtering through the lagoon, the quiet intimacy of the moment—it all felt like a perfect bubble outside of reality. You couldn’t help but notice the way Azul’s fingers fit so naturally with yours, his touch unexpectedly warm and comforting.

Azul’s gaze was locked on you, something unreadable and intense flickering in his deep blue eyes. His tentacles, which had once been so tightly coiled, now drifted lazily in the water, brushing lightly against your legs. There was a new kind of softness to him, a vulnerability that he’d only ever shown to you.

“You really are something special,” he repeated, this time with a weight that made your heart skip a beat.

His voice was low, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver down your spine. The smile on your lips faltered for a moment as the air around you seemed to shift, charged with a sudden tension that was anything but uncomfortable. Azul’s eyes flickered down to your hands, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a slow, deliberate motion.

“You’re the only one who’s ever seen me like this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “The only one who’s ever made me feel… worthy”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt your heart pounding in your chest. His words, so genuine and vulnerable, struck a chord deep within you. You hadn’t expected him to open up like this, hadn’t anticipated the way your own emotions would swell in response.

“And you…” Azul’s voice softened even more as he met your gaze again, his eyes glinting with something that made your pulse quicken. “You’re the first person who’s ever made me feel truly seen.”

There was a pause—a heartbeat where neither of you moved, and yet everything seemed to change. You weren’t sure who leaned in first, but suddenly, the distance between you was closing, the world narrowing to just the two of you. The scent of saltwater hung in the air, mingling with the warmth of his presence.

Azul’s free hand came up to cup your cheek, his touch feather-light as though you were something fragile, precious. He studied your face with an intensity that made your cheeks heat, his expression soft but filled with something deeper, something that made your chest ache.

Then, before you could process it, Azul gently pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was soft and sweet, almost hesitant at first, as though he were testing the waters. But the moment your lips met, it felt like everything around you disappeared—the lagoon, the past, the pain of old memories—none of it mattered in that moment.

You responded in kind, leaning into the kiss, your hand tightening around his as if to ground yourself in the reality of it all. His lips were warm against yours, soft and reassuring, and the taste of the sea lingered faintly on them. It was a quiet, tender kiss, filled with unspoken promises and a vulnerability that neither of you had dared show the world before now.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting against each other as you shared the same space, the same air. Azul’s gaze lingered on you, his eyes dark and warm with a depth of affection you hadn’t expected to see there.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, your voice soft but unwavering. “Inside and out.”

Azul closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling a shaky breath. When he opened them again, they were filled with something warm and tender, something that made your heart feel like it was swelling in your chest.

“And you,” he said quietly, his voice filled with emotion, “are more than I ever deserved.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Azul, you deserve everything.”

Azul smiled at you, the expression soft and genuine in a way that made your heart flutter. His hand still cradled your cheek, and as he leaned in again, brushing his lips gently against your forehead, you couldn’t help but feel like, for the first time in a long time, you both had finally found something—someone—worth holding onto.

And in that soft, intimate moment, beneath the soft sunlight, it felt as though the walls he’d carefully built around himself were beginning to fall. Not entirely gone, but for the first time, Azul felt he didn’t need them quite as much—not with you here, not with the way you looked at him, like he was something precious.

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#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul #azul ashengrotto #hurt/comfort #reverse comfort

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