#they already don’t like me and i don’t wanna make things worse but i’m also a religious trans artist going through similar experiences

[icelogged]

there is holiness in transfiguration becoming new in the eyes of the lord is sacred ♱ o.o mim 2023

[justgleekout]

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[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[daddy-long-legssss]

i really fucked myself over by accepting a job that i thought would be good for me and help me ‘grow my skills and career’ but now it’s just stressing me out to nth degree and i hate it.

[1roentgen]

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[strawbebyjam]

thinking abt how agar tum saath ho was my oh-god-i-hope-i-never-feel-like-that song and now it’s the oh-shit-that’s-where-things-are-and-will-stay song

[peachinspiration]

bro like dude

[mywritersmind]

HIDE YOUR NAME NOT YOUR TEAM - LN4

summary : In which a pretty red head catches Lando’s eye one night in mexico, a rude remark and laughable flirting stays on both of their minds. The last thing Lando expects is to see her again in the paddock, while he’s determined to figure her out, she’s determined to hide her name and why she constantly is spotted in orange.

listen up : panic attack, sexual comments, comedy!! lando norris x bosses!daughter.

word count : 5404

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I don’t usually go to these things. But Alexandra convinced me when she said I could borrow her dyson.

“I take it back.” I say as I get my drink, we’re sat at the bar, Charles already gone to find some drivers, “Let’s go back to the hotel! Girls night!” I beg her but she just shakes her head.

“You look too hot for that.” I sigh, I do look hot tonight. I’m in a black mini dress, sheer tights, and knee high boots that are the same shade of burgundy red as my hair.

Just as she says that, Rebecca, Carlos’ girlfriend, comes up to us, “Y/n! You never come out with us!” She hugs me and I smile. I never do but I do like hanging with my girls.

“I had to drag her here!” Alex sips her drink as Rebecca laughs. We’re in Mexico for the grand prix, something I also rarely find myself at.

“Don’t make that face! You deserve a day off.” I sigh, knowing they’re right.

“Alright.” I down the rest of my drink, coughing and turning to the bartender, “Three shots please! Surprise us!”

The girls squeal and as soon as I sit back down, I know it’s gonna be a good night.

I’m multiple drinks in, dancing with my friends, when Carlos and Charles sweep my friends away like it’s nothing.

I scoff, going to walk off the dance floor before a man stops me, “Wanna dance?” I almost laugh when I see who it is. I can tell he sees me thinking about it, “I promise I don’t bite.”

⋆༺

LANDO NORRIS

I noticed her when she was dancing with some guy who was out of his mind wasted. I saw her hair first, a dark cherry red with messy waves.

I don’t know if she’s here with friends but I do know that I want to know more.

She’s staring at me like i’ve just asked her to do a backflip, “Uh… no.” She shakes her head and walks straight past me.

What the fuck?

I haven’t had a girl reject me in a long time, but it’s not unheard of. Still, something about her is telling me to not give up.

“Wait! I’ll buy you a drink!” I hurry after her, she’s flipping her hair over her shoulder and eyeing me, “Please?”

“Please?” She laughs, “You can’t find any other girl besides me?” She hops up onto a bar stool and I lean against the counter, staying close.

“Maybe I don’t want to.” She narrows her eyes at me. “I’m Lando.”

“Yeah, I know.” This surprises me.

“Oh! Well then you know I'm not a creep, so you’ll let me buy you a drink?” She crosses her arms, she seems to be assessing me.

“Fine.” I get her a dirty martini and water for myself. “Thank you.”

“I’ll always be down to buy a pretty girl a drink.” I smile as she sips her drink, “I never caught your name-”

“Mhm…” She looks around the club, obviously not interested in what I have to say.

“Okay, Red.” She doesn’t even flinch at the nickname, “Why are you in Mexico?”

She hums, “Family.” she lets out a long breath.

I frown at her lack of interest, “That’s fun. I’m racing here this weekend.” She doesn’t respond, “Look, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I promise I'm not like whatever shit magazine you read.”

She looks at me after that and I immediately know I fucked up. Except instead of throwing her drink on me, she just laughs, “God, you’re an asshole.” And with that, she walks away.

⋆༺

YOU

Lando Norris hitting on me was not something I expected from that night.

But it immediately became worse once I remembered why I was in Mexico.

“Sweetheart!” My dad hugs me tight. Zak Brown is a lot of things but a shit dad isn’t one of them. He’s in all orange, contrasting my white dress. I smile as he pulls back, “I’m so happy you’re here!”

I have gone to four grand prix’s in my life. It seems a bit odd for someone who’s father is there almost every weekend, but we had a deal. I was a sort of trouble child, more in my teens when I wanted more freedom. I took some years off of school but I realized what I was wasting and got right back into college.

My dad said I couldn’t come to a grand prix until I finished school. I was annoyed at first, who wouldn’t want to spend their weekends partying with rich people and flying on private jets? But I sort of fell in love with my studies in fashion and had no time anyway.

But I recently graduated and am back in my papaya fathers reach.

“How are you doing? Excited to be back?” I nod as I walk up the paddock with him.

“Very! I’ve missed everything, especially my friends.” He smiles and I’m happy I can make him do that in public.

“I’m so proud. Oh!” I see my nightmare in neon and freeze, “Come meet one of our drivers, he’s a bit like you, I think.” My dad looks back at my frozen position and frowns.

“I forgot I have to grab food with Lily! New friend duties, right! Remember how happy you are that i’m making friends!? Bye!” I turn around and run.

I end up meeting up with Lily because as soon as I heard myself say it, I suddenly really wanted to see her. Lily isn’t new to the paddock, but I’ve only met her a couple times. We follow each other on instagram and have DM’d multiple times.

After our taco and gossip session, practice started and I know I should be watching, but I want to explore more. So instead, I walk around the Paddock alone.

I seriously missed this environment. One of my favorite memories from when I was a kid was my dad walking me around the paddock. I love the hustle and bustle of the paparazzi, fans, and drivers.

I also love the quiet in the paddock while the cars are on track. I make it back inside, finally finding a bathroom and after fixing my hair and makeup, I wander more halls.

I don’t want to admit I'm lost, but I definitely am. I’m about to call Lily and Rebecca but realize I am a strong independent woman! That and I'm a tad embarrassed.

I turn yet another corner and see the worst person for this situation. I realize he hasn’t seen me yet but when I go to turn he eyes me, “Red?” He looks genuinely shocked and I'm even more shocked that he remembers me!

I laugh awkwardly, not knowing what to say. He’s in his race suit, sweaty, and way too good looking with it unzipped. He runs his hand through his curls, has he always been this attractive?

Sorry! Dickhead. I don’t like this man. He’s an asshole.

“What the fuck?” Is all he can say.

“Hey!” I smile, “Thanks for buying me that drink the other night…” When I left him at the bar, I did not think about the whole MY FATHER IS HIS BOSS thing.

“What are you doing here?” I hide my paddock pass behind my back, “Seriously. You’re not some stalker are you?”

I roll my eyes, “No but I am lost.” I can’t ask him to point me to the Mclaren garage because then he’ll ask why so I go for the next best thing, “I’m looking for the ferrari garage!” I need to text Alex right now.

“I’m still confused- you said you were in town for family.” Fuck my life.

“Yeah! Well… Alex is like family to me! And she invited me. Alex as in-“

“Charles’ girlfriend. Yeah I know.” He moves his water bottle from one hand to the other, stepping closer. “But, why would I help you if you think I'm an asshole?”

Okay. Good point.

“Because you think I'm pretty?” I smile and I can tell he’s biting back a laugh. “And because you were being pretty cocky!”

He nods, “Fair enough. Come with me.” I didn’t expect him to give in so easily.

“Hey, why were you in here anyways?” He shrugs and keeps walking for a bit before answering.

“Needed a breather.”

I nod, walking with him in silence, he opens the door for me and the sun hits up straight on. “So… how's the whole driving thing going?”

He glances at me, “It's alright. Quali tomorrow.”

“Good luck. Although I kinda hope you don’t get first.” He raises a brow. “I’m a big Piastri fan.”

He looks genuinely hurt, “I didn’t even think you watched.”

I frown, “Why wouldn’t I? I mean, I'm here.”

“Yeah but you… nevermind.”

I stop, turning to him, “You have to tell me now!”

He grins, looking away and continuing to walk, “You just didn’t have a reaction when I hit on you.” I scoff, “I know, I know! Dickish.”

I can’t help but laugh, “Honestly… fair enough. If I looked like you with the whole famous rich thing. I’d be pulling left and right.”

He eyes me, “So you think i’m attractive.” My face drops and I look ahead, “Hey it’s okay we already know I think you’re hot!” God if my dad ever heard this…

“Just shut up.” He does.

Until he doesn’t, “You really a big Oscar fan?”

I’m happy that I got under his skin with that one, “What if I said I liked Verstappen more?”

“I’d leave your lost ass right here.” Lando says it so serious that all I can do is laugh. He looks proud after I look at him again. “Seriously though.”

“Ferrari girl through and through.” He rolls those gorgeous green eyes of his, “McLaren might be second best though. Plus that Colapinto kid…”

He rolls his eyes, “You can’t like Franco more than me.”

“What, you jealous?” He points to turn and when we do, I see the garages in view.

“Gonna give me your name yet? Or am I sticking to Red?”

I pull his same move and avoid the question, “Thanks for showing me back.”

“Is it bad I like it when you’re mean to me?” I groan and walk away, “Bye, Red!”

“Later, Norris.”

⋆༺

“He doesn’t know who you are!?” Lily and Alexandra scream at the same time, we’re sitting in my hotel room when I called an emergency girls meeting. Except Rebecca is with Carlos to celebrate a little after his pole.

I cover my face with my hands, “But why does it matter!?”

“He’s obviously is hot for you.” Alex shrugs as Lily laughs, rolling onto her back.

“Babe, No wonder he’s so interested in you! I mean- besides the fact that you’re hilarious and drop dead gorgeous- he definitely is intrigued.”

I shake my head, “More like plotting to get me back for calling him an asshole.”

“Wait! You called him an asshole!?” Lily laughs even harder, “I love you!”

“Genuine question though… why don’t you go for it?” I stare at Alex as if she has two heads.

“Go for it!? Lando Norris?” She nods, “No way! Besides the fact that my dad is his boss, he’s way too cocky, and he doesn’t even know my name, I still wouldn’t go for him.”

“That’s kinda part of the appeal.” Alex shrugs, “What!? He knows nothing about you but thinks your hot! Seems like enough to me.”

We end up crying laughing, the conversation straying from Lando and to all the on track drama.

⋆༺

I’ve been avoiding the McLaren garage like the plague. I was there this morning but stayed on Oscar’s side. After meeting him, falling in love with him (platonically of course), and seeing that Lando was completely locked into Qualifying, I took my first breath of calmness.

The boys went out and I popped over to talk to Pato. Quali was over way quicker than I expected, After Oscar’s P17 a weird energy was in the garage and as soon as I saw Lando’s car, I was out of there.

What game am I even playing? Maybe it’s a little hot that he doesn’t know who I am… I don’t know why. Plenty of people have bugged me because of who my dad is, but Lando doesn’t need extra grand prix tickets or me to spot him money.

I find myself in a large room, it’s filled with chairs and a couch facing them. I grin immediately, how the hell is this just open?

I obviously am going to take my chance and pretend to be a talented man! The couch is not as comfortable as I expected and I almost fucking jump off of it when someone walks in.

He's breathing heavily and I recognize something’s wrong immediately. He’s pulling off the velcro of his race suit, unzipping it and pacing. “Lando.”

His head shoots up immediately, just staring at me, “Fuck Red, why are you everywhere?” His breath is labored and shaky.

I stand slowly as he slides down the wall, pulling his knees to his chest and leaning his head back. I’m confused because he seemed fine twenty minutes ago. P3 was not bad especially for where they are right now.

I start to say something but he just shakes his head, “I can’t.” He points to his throat and I realize he can’t breathe.

“I like your hair.” I say quickly, he looks so shocked when he looks up at me, “You look really good with it.” He keeps breathing heavily.

“Huh?”

“Although, you should ditch that fuck ass hat.” He tries to laugh but he’s still struggling. I slowly sit in front of him, “Seriously, who told you to wear that?”

“I- I have to.”

I roll my eyes but my hands are shaking. I’m not a stranger to a panic attack and seeing it happen to someone in front of me is a little scary, “Free will? I mean we all know you have it with the amount of times you whip out your middle finger.”

He laughs again, breathy, but his breathing seems to be getting slower.

“You definitely have free will.” he chokes out, “Saw you- today. Flirting with Lewis.” He got me there.

“Okay! Have you seen him? Who wouldn’t!?”

He shakes his head, “He’s way older.”

“Some people might find that hot.” He side eyes me, “Don’t worry I'm still into guys my own age.”

He’s smiling, nodding. We stay silent for a moment, his head resting against his knees as he catches his breath. He finally slides his legs out in front of him and I scoot next to him.

I tap my neck to ask for permission and he understands immediately, nodding. My hand slips to his neck, feeling his pulse.

“I used to have panic attacks a lot last year.” I explain as I feel his heart underneath my touch. He doesn’t say anything, just looking into my eyes. I swallow, “Your heart is going crazy.”

He doesn’t miss a beat, “Yeah I don’t think that’s because of the panic attack.”

I give him a look, “Seriously? Even in distress you’re a flirt.”

He licks his lips, “You’re good at calming people.”

“All I did was talk, not that hard.” My hand is still on his neck. “Are you okay?”

He swallows, looking away just as I drop my hand back to my side, “Mhm. Thank you.” His hand goes to mine as if it’s nothing. I’m shaking. He rests his head against the wall, closing his eyes, and squeezing my hand. “I think I owe you another drink, Red.”

⋆༺

It’s not until after more press and the conference is over, when Lando finds me again.

“Let me buy you dinner.” I raise a brow, “Come on, as a thank you.”

“You already said thank you.” I sip my water as he frowns. He’s out of his race suit and into jeans and a McLaren shirt.

“Just let me take you out.”

“Are you feeling okay?” I reach up and press the back of my hand to his forehead, “Oh no! Seems like you have a case of aiming high.” He mocks me as I cross my arms.

“Red, If you’re that high, I'll take my McLaren rocket ship and meet you.” I laugh at his words.

“A bit late on the whole rocket ship thing.” He sighs.

“We’ll have fun. Please. Why not?” He goes through five emotions in two seconds.

“You’re sinister, evil, and orange.” My eyes stray who who’s also orange and walking quickly up to us, “Shit.” I don’t mean to say it out loud.

Lando turns around quickly, then back to me, “Don’t tell me you’re scared of Zak. I’ll introduce you-”

“No! I’m not! I gotta go!”

“Wha- Red!” I walk away so fast that I don’t see the man rounding the corner.

“Y/n?” Oscar looks at me confused, “Alright?”

“Hi!” I quickly move past him but he follows.

“What’s wrong?”

“Lando is trying to introduce me to Zak Brown.” I say simply as we turn another corner and Oscar frowns.

“Zak Brown as in your dad Zak Brown?” I look at him, nodding. Then he laughs, “He doesn’t know who you are?”

“Nope. Sort of a long story but I'm in too deep now.” I cross my arms and he starts laughing harder.

“I’m completely here for this- Just one question though… how the fuck does he not know who you are? You’ve been in the garage.”

“He’s blind and I'm a mastermind?” I shrug and of course, Lando finds us.

“Red! No!” He groans when he sees Oscar, “Osc, Don’t convert her into a you fan i’m trying so hard to get her to like me!” Oscar laughs harder, covering his mouth and looking at me.

“I don’t need to be converted! I’m already an Oscar fan!” Lando frowns as I shake my head.

“Don’t worry mate, everyone’s an Oscar fan.” He pats Lando on the shoulder before leaving. “See ya…” I can tell he’s about to say my name but he stops himself.

Lando narrows his eyes at me, “He knows your name?” I bite my lip and walk away. “Hey wait! Any thoughts about tonight?”

I glance back at him, “Don’t you have a race to be preparing for?”

He smirks, catching up to me, “Wanna know my pre race ritual?” I push him away from me, “I’ll give you a hint.” He winks and my stomach does a weird flip.

“You’re never gonna stop, are you?” I place my hands on my hips, looking up at the man.

“Tell me to, and I will.” I stay quiet, his eyes meeting mine and the corner of his lip quirking up. Someone calls his name but his eyes stay on me, smiling. He leans down and taps his knuckles against his hand, “Bye, Red.”

⋆༺

Although Lando has been running around my head, I still have other duties besides being flirted with. I’m at dinner with my dad, it’s been a while since it’s been just the two of us. And I will say, I missed it.

He’s busy and obviously distracted but i’m grateful for any time I get with him. We’re in the Paddock but everybody is gone except for a few engineers and workers.

“Tell me about your weekend! I haven’t seen you much in the garage.” He takes a bite out of his salad, looking down at his texts.

“I’ve been around.” I shrug, drinking my lemonade, “It’s good to be back. But I have been sneaking off with my friends a bit…”

He smiles, “I’m glad. Even if you aren’t cheering us on.” I laugh, “You will be watching from the garage tomorrow, though.”

I nod, “Yes yes, I know.”

We get into a conversation about the issues with my apartment and how he thinks I should move back home. I get the feeling that he’s worried about tomorrow and suddenly wonder if he’s like this every weekend.

My dad gets a call which ends our dinner early, “I gotta grab my bag then I'll head to the hotel.” I kiss him on the cheek and make my way to the garage.

There’s a few people hanging back, some looking at screens and someone laying on the floor, looking at Lando’s back wing.

I grab my purse, rummaging around in it to make sure my phone is there. “You sure you’re not stalking me, Red?” That damn voice makes me jump.

He's sitting on the floor next to his own car, his arms and black shirt dirty. Was he… fixing his car?

I raise a brow, “What are you doing?” He takes the rag next to him and wipes off his hands, standing up.

“What are you doing?”

I cross my arms, “Stealing information for ferrari.” He smirks, shaking his head and walking past me to grab his water.

“Instead of having dinner with me? You need to sort your priorities out.”

I flip my hair over my shoulder, “Do you work on your own car often?”

“I can’t do much but I do like to see how it looks.” He shrugs, leaning against the wall and glancing at the people working, “You seriously not gonna tell me who you know at McLaren? You obviously have an in.”

He waves to the people who are packing up and walking out. We are now alone.

I hum, knowing there’s no chance I'm about to tell him who my ‘in’ is. He laughs a bit, “Alright, stay mysterious. Wanna sit in it?” I almost think I didn’t hear him correctly.

“What?” He nods, standing and walking over to his car, “Come on, don’t tell me you’ve already driven one or something.”

I smile, shaking my head and walking towards him, “No. I used to kart but I’m actually shit at it.” He laughs, beckoning me closer. “Won’t you get in trouble for this?”

He brings his finger to his lips, shushing me as I stand in front of him, “Okay put your foot here,” he points, “And hold onto this.” He points again and I do as I'm told.

I hate to admit it, but I am quite clumsy. When I slip a bit, his hands go to catch me instantly. Thank you driver reaction practice.

He lifts me down into the seat, his hands regretfully leaving me. I look up at him, “For once, you look tall.” His smile drops, leaning over me.

“You’re one to talk.” He scoffs and starts pointing at things. I try to listen but his hand is right in front of my face and I’m genuinely surprised how much I don’t know.

“You’re so far down.” I hum, holding my hands out as if I'm driving, “My back already hurts.” He smiles and kneels next to me.

“You look good in here. Seems like a complete hazard though, even if the car isn’t on.” I tilt my head up to look at him. A curl is falling perfectly in his face. “I didn’t wear the hat as much today, what’d you think?”

I smile at the fact that he listened to my bullshit, “How are you, by the way?”

He nods, avoiding my eyes and messing around with something on the car, “Fine.”

“So the whole panic attack thing was just for fun?” He eyes me, biting his lip.

“Thank you again, It was kinda embarrassing but you made me feel better.” I chew the inside of my cheek, smiling softly at his expression. He looks tired, but a big step up from earlier.

I’ve seen Lando a million times. He’s on posters, all over my feed, in my dads photo dumps, billboards, ads… But none of that can compare to the real thing.

He shoots up so fast that I’m about to laugh and ask what he’s doing, but he starts talking to someone. “Lando!” It’s my dad. Alarm bells ring in my ears as my hand goes over my mouth. Okay. He can’t see me, I know that at least. “I thought you’d already left!”

Lando laughs awkwardly, I think he’s standing in front of the car now. “Uh! Wanted to make sure everything’s good with the car. Guess I lost track of time.”

I hear my dad laugh, rummaging around, “Get some sleep, kid.” I think we’re in the clear until I hear sneakers squeaking, “You haven’t seen a girl come in here, have you?”

My heart rate skyrockets as Lando clears his throat, “Nope. But I've been pretty distracted with the car.”

“Alright well… I have someone to introduce you to tomorrow! Get some rest and drink water!” The door shuts and I hear Lando sigh heavily.

I stand up and messily get out of the car, “I thought for sure I was dead!” Lando says, running a hand through his hair and shivering, “Sorry about that.”

“No worries! I don’t want to get you in trouble though so I should go…” He nods, looking a bit disappointed.

“Want me to walk you out?” I can’t help but smile softly at the soft way he says it.

“I know my way, Thanks though.” I grab my bag, thanking god my dad didn’t see it before, “Rest up.” I mock my dad as Lando chuckles.

“With you on my mind, that’ll be difficult.” I pretend like my cheeks aren’t on fire and open the door.

“Dream about me, then.”

⋆༺

The party environment of the Mexican Grand Prix is all I needed today. I’m in a white dress with marigolds embroidered at the bottom, a flower in my hand from one of the people who are painted.

I laugh with Rebecca and Alex as we walk through the paddock, their boyfriends already getting ready for the drivers parade.

I haven’t told them about last night. I mean, what is there to tell? I swipe my lipgloss on, checking my makeup in the reflection of Rebecca’s glasses.

“Is Carlos nervous for today?” I ask her as she smiles at his name.

“I think so, but I’m really hopeful for a good result.” we continue walking, “Hopefully I don’t jinx it.”

“Hey, Y/n.” Alex nudges me, “Someone just arrived.” She winks as we all turn to look at the Paddock entrance behind us.

Lando Norris.

He’s wearing a Quadrant crewneck and a big smile. He signs something for a tiny fan and hurry’s past the photographers.

He almost walks past us, but he does a double take. He looks happy, I’m glad. “Rebecca, Alex.” He doesn’t stop walking as he politely greets them. His eyes meet mine and his expression changes, “Hey, Red.”

I smile softly before he turns and practically runs away, “Yup! He’s in love.”

I swat Rebecca’s arm as she laughs, “Goodbye!”

“No!” Alex laughs, “Come get coffee!”

I shake my head, “I told Pato I would grab breakfast with him, I’ll see you later!”

I smile at the two of them as they wave and we split up, me going to McLaren and them to Ferrari.

⋆༺

Breakfast is good, we watch the drivers go around and laugh at George who is shivering like a leaf. I say goodbye to him as soon as the drivers parade ends.

I need to see my dad before the craziness begins. “Dad!” I smile as he sits on the pit wall.

“Sweetie!” He smiles and waves me over, letting me sit with him.

“Ready for today?” I ask as he looks over data.

He nods, “Definitely!” He crosses his fingers and I smile, looking over the data with him. He knows I have no clue what we’re looking at so he explains it to me.

I lean in to look at the tiny words when my dad gets distracted, “Oh!” I hear him say but i’m trying to decipher this code still, “I have someone for you to meet!” I’ve met a million different people this week so I smile and stick out my hand like usual, “Lando! This is my daughter Y/n.”

I stare at him. His smile drops for a second, then a look of panic washes over him before he takes a breath and shakes my hand.

“Nice to meet you.” I almost whisper it. He’s looking at me and I feel like I'm about to get swallowed whole.

His face contorts again, he looks like he’s finally cracked me, “Pleasure” My dad looks away and Lando takes that second to narrow his eyes, a smirk still on his face.

I drop his hand as my dad looks at us again, “I think Y/n has been avoiding the garage! I would have introduced you days ago!”

Lando’s jaw ticks, “Not a McLaren girl?”

I can’t help but smile, “Ferrari through and through.”

My dad shakes his head, “Don’t mind her odd preferences…” he’s about to say something else but gets pulled away by someone in orange.

Lando just looks at me, my cheeks hot as he examines me. I expect him to be mad, but he just smiles, “Y/n, huh?” I nod shyly, “It’s pretty. It fits you.”

“Okay! Lan you gotta go!” My dad claps a hand on his shoulder, dragging him away.

“Good luck!” I say quickly as he shoots me a devious look. I take a breath I didn’t know I was holding in, and watch him leave.

⋆༺

The race has me on the edge of my seat for all 71 laps. I accidentally gasp way too loud at Lando being pushed off track and maybe start clapping when it’s announced that Max got two penalties.

The whole time I have a feeling that Lando will be on that podium, but definitely not in third.

My manifestation comes true when Charles goes off track and Lando zooms by.

Ten laps to go and I don’t think I've taken a deep breath in twenty. But the moment Lando passes the finish line, the garage claps and I sigh in relief.

I hug my dad but I watch the podium ceremony from the side, smiling as the boys get sprayed with champagne while laughing.

I see Rebecca with tears in her eyes and when I look back to the podium, I see Lando looking at me. He's grinning, holding his bottle of champagne and pouring it into his mouth before winking at me.

If he’s still acting like this after he found out my dad is his boss, then I am unexplainably screwed. And I couldn’t be happier about it.

After the podium, I walk back to the garage, but Lando catches me first, pulling me into a hidden area. He’s soaked in champagne and grinning like an idiot, “Have fun out there?” I ask, crossing my arms.

He nods, “Think i’m cool yet?”

“A bit… maybe when I watch you win.” His smile grows, his chest rising and falling quickly.

“Go out with me.” I laugh at his words, “For real this time! Y/n.” He says my name like a prayer and I never want it to stop.

“I guess I sort of owe you.”

He nods enthusiastically, “Y/n Brown. What a name… I knew you had an in!”

I shake my head, “I’m sorry. But it was fun messing with you.”

He sighs in defeat, “I feel much better that I know who you are. Although I almost passed out when the words ‘daughter’ left Zak’s mouth!” I laugh with him, champagne dripping down his curls still.

“You did really well today.”

He bites his lip, “Think of how much better I'll do knowing you’re screaming my name in the garage.” I swat his arm but he swerves and plants a kiss on my cheek.

My jaw drops as he pulls back, “I’ll pick you up tonight!” he starts walking away, backwards, “I’ll text you!”

“You don’t even have my number!” I yell after him but he just winks and blows me a kiss. Just as I turn back around and roll my eyes, I see my dad in front of me, arms crossed as my eyes go wide.

He sighs, looking like he already has a headache, “What the hell did I miss?”

[rottenfyre]

Do you think Bruce would introduce y/n to the justice league? I could totally see her simping over the flash (Or conner Kent 👀).

The first time you meet Conner, you’re immediately smitten. He’s tall, gorgeous, and has that perfect blend of confidence and awkward boy-next-door energy that you thrive on.

You don’t even bother introducing yourself properly. After the initial “Hey, pretty boy, wanna fuck?” incident, you lean into your new role as his unsolicited sugar mama.

Conner, tries to respond, but you’re already calculating how much of Bruce’s money you’ll need to spoil him.

During one mission, you dramatically announce, “Conner deserves everything! Clothes, gadgets, vacations—all on Daddy Bruce’s tab!”

Once, you bought him an entire motorcycle. When Bruce found out, he dragged you into the Batcave, his voice dangerously calm.

“Explain why my credit card statement says you purchased a $50,000 bike.”

“It’s for Conner. He deserves nice things.”

Bruce’s eye twitches. “Conner can fly. He doesn’t need a bike.”

You shrug. “But he looks so good on it, Bruce. Don’t be stingy.”

You’re constantly “borrowing” Bruce’s money for ridiculous things.

“Bruce, I need a million dollars.”

“For what?” he asks, already exhausted.

“To buy Conner a pony. He’s always wanted one.”

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m not giving you a million dollars.”

“Fine,” you huff. “But don’t come crying to me when Conner’s sad and pony-less.”

You have a love-hate relationship with Diana. You’re in awe of her beauty, strength, and grace, but you’re also deeply insecure.

During one mission, you stop mid-battle to dramatically compare your boobs to hers, much to everyone’s horror.

“Diana,” you sniff, clutching your chest, “I’ll never be able to compete with perfection like yours. It’s not fair!”

Diana, ever graceful, reassures you, “You’re beautiful in your own right.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re perfect,” you reply, before glaring at Bruce. “He never says anything nice to me.”

Bruce, utterly done: “Because you don’t deserve it.”

During a training session, you randomly grab Diana’s hand and place it on your boobs.

“Feel that, Diana. Am I Amazon material yet?”

She humors you, nodding seriously. “You’re getting there.”

You: “If I bulk up, can I join Themyscira?”

Barry finds you hilarious. He loves how unfiltered you are, even when it gets way too inappropriate.

Once, during a mission, you casually said, “Barry, do you think you could vibrate fast enough to—”

Barry, cutting you off, flailing: “DO NOT FINISH THAT SENTENCE.”

You just smirk. “I’m just saying. There’s potential.”

He starts speed-dodging your flirting, but you’re persistent. “One day, Speedy, you’ll come around.”

You have exactly one question for Hal when you meet him:

“So, hypothetically, could you make a functional dild—”

Hal, already holding up a hand: “Nope. Don’t even finish that thought.”

You pout. “Why do you even have the ring if you’re not going to use it creatively?”

Clark tries his best to remain polite and patient, but you test his limits.

“You must’ve been sculpted by the gods,” you tell him once, blatantly checking him out. “What’s it like being perfect, superdaddy?”

“I… um… thank you?” Clark stammers, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck while Bruce glares daggers at you.

You immediately give Arthur the nickname “Aquadaddy” and refuse to call him anything else.

“Look at those arms, Aquadaddy. What’s your bench press, a blue whale?”

Arthur smirks, clearly amused. “Something like that.”

You: “Bet you could throw me across the room.”

Arthur: “Why would I do that?”

You: “For fun. And because I’d enjoy it.”

You’re also obsessed with his tattoos.

“Did it hurt? Can I touch them? Are you planning on getting more? What if we got matching ones?!”

He indulges you for about five seconds before realizing you’re just trying to find an excuse to grope his arm.

“You’re worse than Barry,” he mutters.

During an underwater mission, you accidentally blurted out, “Do mermaids exist? Be honest.”

Arthur: “They’re… complicated.”

You: “Complicated? Are they, like, your exes?”

Arthur groans, swimming away while you cackle.

You’ve made it your life’s mission to torment Bruce.

When the League gathers for a meeting, you always find a way to embarrass him. One time, you slid into the room dramatically, pointed at him, and declared, “That man is the reason I’m not married yet!”

Bruce: “How is this my fault?”

You grin. “Because I’ll never find another man who looks as good in a suit. You’ve ruined my standards.”

You are Bruce’s biggest headache. Every time he turns around, you’re doing something wildly inappropriate.

During a League movie night, you plop yourself on the floor between his legs, resting your head on his thigh.

“Your thighs are so firm, Bruce. You ever think about becoming a leg model?”

Bruce just stares down at you, utterly done. “Go sit somewhere else.”

You grin up at him. “Nope. This is my spot now.”

As unhinged as you are, everyone in the League has a soft spot for you. You make them laugh, even if it’s at Bruce’s expense.

And while your antics are embarrassing for Bruce, they all know you’re a fierce fighter and incredibly loyal. When it matters, you’ve got their backs—and they wouldn’t trade you for anything.

Except Bruce. Bruce would absolutely trade you for five minutes of peace.

[thesecondhandwoman]

hellooo i saw you were looking for requests!! i’ve been dying for some domestic caitvi as moms fics, if you wanna run with that!!

MOTHERLY LOVE

Caitlyn x Vi x kid f!reader

Synopsis: You were Caitlyn’s and Vi’s little kiddo, and they loved you with all their hearts. Today, like every other, showed just how much they truly did.

Request: Anon 🤍

A/N: Just to clarify, again, this isn’t a ship with a child, it is just the fanfic scenario. Also, in this scenario, mama is Vi, mommy is Caitlyn.

The morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting soft golden stripes across the kitchen floor. It smelled like vanilla and sugar, and the faint sizzle of batter on a pan was the first sound you heard. Your nose twitched as you slowly woke up, eyes still heavy with sleep.

Bun-Bun, a stuffed bunny that your Mama Vi gave you as a little baby, was tucked firmly under your arm, his soft bunny ears draped over your face like a second pillow. You hugged him closer, not quite ready to leave your cocoon of warmth.

“Kiddo, breakfast is almost ready,” came a familiar, raspy voice from down the hall. It was mama—loud, warm, and always just a little rough around the edges. You could hear her footsteps getting closer.

You kept your eyes shut tight.

“Don’t make me come in there,” she teased, voice full of playful warning.

You burrowed deeper into the blanket, whispering to Bun-Bun, “Shh, she can’t see us if we don’t move.”

The door creaked open. “I can hear you, y’know,” Vi said, stepping inside. She crouched down next to the bed, grinning like a mischievous fox. “Last chance, bunny squad. Up or I’m carryin’ you to breakfast upside down.”

You peeked one eye open, meeting her smirk with a little giggle. “You wouldn’t dare, mama!”

“Try me,” she challenged, raising an eyebrow.

With a dramatic sigh, you sat up, still clutching Bun-Bun to your chest. “Okay, okay, I’m up, mama. No upside-down rides today, please.”

“Smart choice, kid.” Vi ruffled your hair, messing it up worse than it already was. “C’mon, Mommy’s makin’ pancakes, and you know she doesn’t let me near the stove.”

That got you moving. You slid off the bed, dragging Bun-Bun along, his floppy ears trailing behind you like a royal cape.

In the kitchen, Caitlyn was at the stove, her braid pulled neatly over one shoulder. Her focus was sharp, every flip of the pancake precise. She glanced over her shoulder as you shuffled in, her eyes softening instantly.

“Good morning, darling,” she said, wiping her hands on a towel before crouching down to your level. Her arms opened, and you ran into them without hesitation, squishing Bun-Bun between you. She kissed your cheek, her hands warm and steady on your back. “Did you sleep well?”

“Bun-Bun had a bad dream,” you mumbled into her shoulder.

Caitlyn pulled back just enough to look at you, her eyes scanning your face with quiet concern. “Did he? Poor Bun-Bun,” she said, brushing her thumb over your cheek. “Good thing he had you to keep him safe.”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “But I think he needs extra pancakes to feel better.”

Caitlyn’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Oh, does he now? Well, I suppose we can manage that.” She kissed your forehead, then stood, guiding you toward the kitchen table.

Vi was already sitting there, arms stretched out behind her head like she had all the time in the world. She grinned as you sat down next to her, placing Bun-Bun in your lap.

“Hey, guess what?” Vi leaned over, her eyes wide with mock seriousness. “I called dibs on the first pancake.”

“Hey! No fair!” you pouted, hugging Bun-Bun protectively. “Mommy, tell Mama she can’t call dibs!”

“Vi, don’t antagonize her,” Caitlyn said, setting a fresh plate of pancakes on the table. “You know she always gets the first one.”

“Ah, fine,” Vi grumbled, shooting you a wink. “You win this time, kiddo.”

“I always win,” you said with a grin, digging into the warm, buttery pancake Caitlyn set in front of you. You made sure to give Bun-Bun a “bite” too, pressing a tiny piece of pancake to his face before eating it yourself.

Vi chuckled. “That bunny eats better than I do.”

“That’s because Bun-Bun’s a prince,” you said proudly, offering him another “bite.”

Caitlyn’s quiet laugh filled the kitchen, a sound as warm as the sun on your face.

The rain came out of nowhere that afternoon. One minute, the sky was bright and blue, and the next, it was a gray blanket pouring water over everything. Raindrops raced each other down the window, and thunder rolled softly in the distance.

You sat on the floor of the living room, Bun-Bun firmly in your lap, surrounded by crayons, markers, and a sea of paper. You were drawing the “Royal Kingdom of Bun-Bun”—complete with castles, forests, and a secret lair for Vi (she said every kingdom needed one).

Caitlyn sat on the couch behind you, a book in her lap, her eyes occasionally flicking up to check on you. Her presence was a calm, steady hum in the background, like the heartbeat of the house.

“Hey, look!” you said, holding up your newest masterpiece. “This is Bun-Bun’s royal castle. See? There’s a slide that goes straight to the pancake room.”

“Brilliant design choice,” Caitlyn said, tilting her head to study it like it was fine art. “I think you might be an architect when you grow up.”

“Or a pancake chef like you, mommy,” you added.

“Or both,” she replied, eyes crinkling with pride.

“Hey, what about me?” Vi said, flopping onto the floor beside you, her head resting on her arm. “Where’s my secret lair?”

“Right here,” you pointed to a small, cave-like drawing at the edge of the page. “You get your own lair ‘cause you’re a sneaky spy.”

Vi’s eyes lit up. “Sneaky spy, huh? I like it.”

“You better like it,” you said, puffing up with pride. “It took me forever to draw the door right.”

Vi grinned, tapping Bun-Bun on the head. “You’re a visionary, kid. Bun-Bun picked a good family.”

When the thunder cracked loudly that night, you shot up in bed, heart thudding in your chest. Bun-Bun was clutched tight to your chest, his little button eyes staring blankly ahead.

For a second, you debated being brave. But another rumble shook the sky, and all your bravery crumbled.

Your small feet hit the floor, and you shuffled toward the hallway, Bun-Bun’s ears trailing behind you. You knew exactly where to go.

Vi and Caitlyn’s bedroom door was slightly open, the soft glow of a bedside lamp peeking through. You nudged it open slowly, peeking in.

“Hey, little bunny,” Caitlyn’s voice came softly from the bed. She was already sitting up, holding out her arms. “Come here, darling.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You climbed onto the bed, dragging Bun-Bun with you, and snuggled into her lap. Caitlyn’s arms wrapped around you, warm and strong. Her hand stroked your hair slowly, the same way she always did when you were scared.

Vi stirred beside her, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “Storm getcha, huh, kiddo?” she mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.

You nodded, burying your face in Caitlyn’s shoulder. “It’s loud.”

“Yeah, it is,” Vi said, scooting closer. She draped her arm over both of you, a big, safe weight that made the world feel smaller and safer. “Don’t worry, though. It’s just sky stuff. It’s got nothin’ on us.”

“Not on Bun-Bun either,” you mumbled, lifting him up so his little face was visible.

“Definitely not on Bun-Bun,” Caitlyn agreed, kissing the top of your head. “You’re safe here, love. Always.”

“Always,” Vi echoed, giving Bun-Bun a soft high-five. “We got you.”

Snuggled between them, with Bun-Bun safe in your arms, you felt the world get quieter. The thunder was still there, but it didn’t feel as big or as scary anymore.

Your eyes grew heavy, lulled by the warmth of your family and the quiet hum of their voices. Before you drifted off, you let out a tiny yawn and mumbled, “Love you, Mommy. Love you, Mama.”

“Love you too, baby bunny,” Caitlyn whispered.

“Love you more, squirt,” Vi added, pulling the blanket up over you.

And just like that, the world felt perfect again, safe with your mothers.

A/N: To make this even more heartwarming/wrenching, Bun-Bun was inspired by Jinx’s bunny in season one (which is why it is noted that Vi gave it to the reader).

[allisonlol]

Bsd characters with a s/o who does only fans?

a/n: omg hello?? i’m BACK. thank y’all for all the love in my absence btw…we hit 3k awhile ago and i didn’t say anything so TYSM❗️🫶🏻 here are some little hc’s to get me back into the swing of things. i chose a bunch of randoms!

warnings: mild sexual content, implied violence

BSD Characters When You Have an Onlyfans

Dazai:

first and foremost lol

he is DEFINITELY down for this shit

you need him to take photos for you? he already has the camera open on his phone. you wanna record something with him? you blink and his clothes will already be on the FLOOR

i feel like dazai already has a thing for recording sex, so he loves it

i’m sensing a bit of voyuerism with the way he wants other people to watch y’all 🤨

also doxxes and hunts down the people who leak ur shit 🫵🏻❌

Chuuya

hmm mixed opinions on this one

like. chuuya doesn’t wanna control u or tell u what to do, but…

he is too possessive a man to be alright with u having an onlyfans

is embarrassed to admit this tho and will just be like “oh…okay” while avoiding looking you in the eye if u ever mention it

completely avoids getting involved with it…sorry but you’ll have to take ur own pictures.

don’t get me wrong, he likes to see them after and always think u look incredible!! chuuya just hates to imagine all the other men doing the same and worse to them

bro will hustle even more to provide enough money for you to get off the net 💀

Akutagawa

u had to tell him what onlyfans was and even then, he was like “erm…”

i feel like he doesn’t take it too seriously. at first almost considers it like instagram 😭

but once u ask him to help take pics for you, and he sees what ur (not) wearing, he’s suddenly like “what’s all this abt…”

let’s you continue to post but only if he can stand in the background of each picture with a knife 🔪

besides that, he doesn’t like being on camera for videos or anything. doesn’t feel comfy with u filming what he considers ur most intimate moments 👎🏻

Nikolai

don’t have to ask him twice!! this man is even more eager than dazai

becomes his goal to get you to the top 1% (and y’all get pretty damn close)

your photos and videos turn much kinkier once nikolai joins you

gets u new lingerie to wear for each photo set, buys u a bunch of toys, proposes new ideas for videos…might as well give this man 50% of profits

almost starts to take over YOUR onlyfans…makes an appearance in every post 💀

Fyodor

i’m unapologetic about this one

it’s an immediate and definite no

demands u delete the account and “respect yourself more” 🤨🤨

(covering up for his extreme possessiveness…he cannot stand any “vile men” looking at u)

u try to show him the photos on there and he shoves your phone away, talking some shit abt how it’s disgusting??

i feel like fyodor has one of those weird madonna-whore complexes…whole other thing to get into but basically he doesn’t even like to see sexual photos of u most of the time 💀

ur messing with his religious vibe!! don’t tempt him!!

taglist: @deadmitochondria @miycutie @chuuyasboots @shy-socially-awkward-intovert @beandaifuku @stygianoir @sonder-paradise @irethepotato @serenareiss @ashthemadwriter @mrsdostoevsky @creamygojo @disa-ster

[moonstruckme]

The doctor!remus smutty drabble drove me insane, please, I need more😣

Me too babe </3

cw: smut mdni, roleplay, discussion of female anatomy, some whiffs of d/s dynamics, praise, innocence kink? i think? I don't wanna talk about it, everything is consensual

doctor!Remus x "innocent"!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Your heart is in your throat, and there’s thin paper crinkling between your fingers as they curl. 

“Are you cold?” Remus thumb smooths over the goosebumps on your calf. His touch only makes your hair stand more on end. 

“No,” you say, but your voice is a quiet squeak. You try again. “No, just a bit nervous.” 

Your doctor’s eyebrows pinch sympathetically, and he offers you a small, kind smile as he starts to put on his gloves. “There’s no reason to be nervous, sweetheart. Have you had an exam like this before?” 

Your eyes catch on the way he pulls at the plastic, long fingers flexing to get them all the way on. Like this? Definitely not. You shake your head. 

“That’s alright,” Remus says gently. “It’s all completely routine, we just want to make sure everything is working as it should. I’ll take good care of you, alright?” 

He takes a seat on a stool in front of you. One wheel squeaks as he rolls it between your legs. 

You nearly jump off the table when his knuckle brushes over the cloth of your panties, and Remus chuckles before he can stop himself. “Relax, lovely. Okay if I take these off for you?” 

You expel a breath, feeling silly. “Yeah. Sorry.” 

“That’s alright.” He pulls them down your thighs, helping you get one foot out of them before leaving them hooked around the other ankle. “Are you sexually active?” 

Your face warms at the bluntness of the question, though you know it’s strictly professional. It’s also difficult to feel relaxed knowing his eyes are roving your cunt, which has already begun to perspire from the sight of his lovely hands and even lovelier face. 

“No,” you say. 

“Really?” Remus sounds surprised. “Well, suppose we don’t have much to worry about on that end of things, then. Do you have plans to be in the near future?” 

He pushes your thin gown down from your thighs to see your face as you respond. You blink at him. “No.” 

Remus’ eyes glint. “Alright,” he says, tone carefully neutral. “But everything feels the way it should? No pain or anything?” 

You wet your lips. “I, um, I think so. How do I know?” 

His eyes leave the area between your legs, meeting yours. Somehow, this feels worse. You shift your hips anxiously, paper rustling beneath you. 

He seems to choose his words carefully. “Do you ever touch yourself, sweetheart?” 

You feel your eyes widen. Your heart beats against your ribcage. “No.” 

“Do you know what your clitoris is? Your labia?” 

“No,” you answer quietly. 

Remus’ expression softens. “That’s alright, love. Do you want me to show you?” 

You can feel your blood pounding in your face now, your skin torturously hot. Still, you nod. 

“I’m going to need you to tell me verbally,” he says. 

“Yes. Please.” 

Your voice is so soft you can barely hear it yourself, nerves choking you. Remus’ eyes crease at the corners. He appears both smug and charmed.

“Alright,” he says, his attention moving back down. You feel him touch something sensitive around your cunt, and it makes you tense. “These are your labia.” You feel the lengths of his fingers smooth up your folds. “There are the outer labia, which you usually see, and then the inner labia” —his touch slips to a more intimate place— “which you don’t always see for everyone. They can be bigger or smaller. Make sense so far?” 

You swallow. Your breaths are shallowing, heat gathering near Remus’ fingers like magic. “Yeah,” you manage. 

He smiles. “Good girl. See, it’s not so scary.” 

You gasp and twitch in surprise when his thumb moves upward. He smears your slick over a sensitive bundle of nerves, toying with it idly. When you move, he sets a hand to your stomach, pressing you flat to the table. 

“Easy,” Remus murmurs. “Does that feel nice?” 

“Yes,” you pant. 

“Good. It should. That’s your clitoris.” 

A shudder trembles through you as he finds a rhythm, swiping up and down over your clit with short, purposeful strokes. You’re vaguely embarrassed by the wetness starting to seep out of your hole at his ministrations, but this feels nice, far too nice to stop and nice enough to help you forget. 

Remus’ voice is a deep rasp. “Do you like that?”

“Yes,” you moan, mortified. 

“Do you want to learn some more?” 

You nod fervently, rewarded with a smile that stretches the scar across his top lip. 

“I’m guessing you’ve never cum before,” he says. When you nod again, he pushes two long fingers into your heat. “We’ll work on that now, alright?” 

Immediately, he has to push down on your stomach again when your back tries to rise up off the table. 

“Fuck,” you gasp. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Remus’ voice is crooning, pitying. “Is it always this bad? No wonder you don’t know if things feel the way they should, poor thing.” 

He fucks you slowly with his fingers, feeling about until he finds the spot he’s looking for. Gloved fingertips sponge sweetly over your front wall. 

“Legs open, darling. Keep relaxed for me, I need to see to do my work.”

Eventually his hand leaves your abdomen, but still Remus wants complete control. He won’t let you rush things. Every time you try, you’re admonished with a firm swat to your bum, a nip of teeth to the inside of your thigh. He gets you squirming and squealing, your own hand pressed hard over your mouth, and still he maintains the same languid pace. When your thighs start to quiver, he chuckles knowingly. 

“Oh, aren’t you sweet? Are you gonna cum for me already?” 

“Yeah, I think—fuck—” You’re babbling, gasping for air under relentless waves of pleasure. “Please don’t stop.” 

“I won’t,” he shushes you. “It’s okay, lovely, you’re doing so well. What a good girl you are, hm? Just let it happen. You’ve earned it.” 

The next wave that crashes over you brings you down with it. You squeeze your eyes shut, paper tearing underneath your fingers as your orgasm drowns everything out. 

Remus works you through it, smugness lacing his dulcet voice. “That’s it, there you are, sweetheart. That feels good, doesn’t it? You did beautifully.” 

His fingers slip out of you, and the gentle pat he delivers to your cunt makes you whine dazedly. The gloves come off with a wet snapping sound each.

“I think I’m gonna call red, dovey, okay?” 

You catch your breath, sitting up on your elbows. “Yeah,” you say, “of course. You okay?”

“Mhm.” Your boyfriend leans up between your legs, setting his lips on yours. “I just really wanted to kiss you,” he murmurs. 

You smile against his mouth. “Sorry for depriving you.” 

“That’s alright.” He leans back to look at your face. “Did you have fun?” 

You chase him, winning another quick peck. “Yeah. Lots, thank you. Did you?” 

“Um, yes.” Remus laughs. “I’m not sure if I can make the drive home without taking care of things first.” 

“Really?” The thought that he��s been hard underneath his pants, on the brink of cumming just by watching you experience your own pleasure, is thrilling. You stroke your thumb over the stubble on his jaw. “We could do something about that, if you’re okay with doing it here.” 

His eyes spark. “Yeah? You feeling up for that?” 

“Mhm.” You shuffle back on the table, paper crinkling underneath you as you smile up at him. “If you’re not worried about cleanup or anything like that.” 

“Nope.” Remus gets up beside you on the table happily. “I reckon one perk of doing this here is that when we’re done, we can get ourselves cleaned up and then just throw out this paper. When I come back to open up in the morning it’ll be like it never happened.” 

“Okay.” You look up at him through your lashes, playing a bit coy. “How do you want it, then?” 

Your boyfriend’s eyes move over you thoughtfully. “Are you okay to get on your hands and knees, sweetheart?”

[asapeveryday]

YOU BELONG TO SOMEBODY ELSE

Pairing: Nika Mühl x Reader

Warnings: smut, cheating (not on reader tho!!)

Summary: having a crush on someone who’s taken is complicated. Doesn’t stop you though! (I’m sorry)

A/n: was gonna be a Paige fic buttttt I’m in a Nika mood. ALSO PLS DONT HATE ME FOR THIS. It’s based off of a request +this song, I thought the concept was entertaining. I love Nika and her bf. This is fiction. Pls chill on me.

HER BREATH, harsh against your neck as she presses herself against you is enough to make your head spin.

She’s leaning half her weight on you, laughing against your skin at how you stiffen up. To Nika, it’s probably because she’s gross and sweaty. She doesn’t know it’s more because her touch prompts you to think thoughts you can’t shouldn’t think of her.

“You’re slow today.” She says cheerfully. “Don’t tell me you’re slacking now, baby.”

You almost shudder at the pet name but recollect yourself. “Since you’re so pumped up you shouldn’t need my support.” You scoff, playfully shoving the Croatian girl off of you. She fakes a stumble but gracefully catches herself.

“Careful! If I get hurt then you’re gonna hear from Geno.” She smiles.

You just shake your head, grinning to yourself. “Your bitching and moaning is ten times worse than the old man.”

The two of you walk around for a while. This was your usual routine, running your favourite trail twice a week, then walking for a bit before grabbing a bite to eat. Routine or not, it also happened to be your favourite part of the week.

Why wouldn’t it be? Seeing Nika like this; tight shorts stopping mid thigh, sports bra exposing her toned body and flashy belly piercing, hair pulled into a tight ponytail, giving you perfect access to the beauty that is her face.

Running with her meant being able to look at her without others around to notice, it meant listening to her breathing quicken and slow, or holding your own breath when she’d slightly pull up the edge of her shorts to examine the accumulating colour on her already tan skin.

To say you had a crush was an understatement.

“So,” you say, breaking the silence. “when’s your next game?”

Did you know when the next game was? Of course. You knew when all her games were.

“Day after tomorrow.” She grins, tilting her head signalling you to prepare for a question. “Am I gonna see you at this one?”

“Nika..” you force out a sigh. “Such bad timing. I have a thing.”

She raises her perfectly shaped eyebrow now, the look in itself is not alien to you yet still incites a drop in your stomach. You hate disappointing her time after time.

“Seriously? How do you manage to have a thing every single time I have a game?”

You shrug. “I’m sorry, Niks.” You frown, not lying. “I wish I could go,” again, not lying “but stuff just keeps coming up.” ok, now you’re lying.

She doesn’t say anything, just eyes you suspiciously.

“I might be free after though.” You sneak in hopefully.

“Fuck yeah!” She squeals, slapping your back. “Cus’ when we win imma need you right next to me partying.”

You smile at her hand on you, at her happiness with your presence.

“Wanna go eat now?” You ask. “I’m starving.”

A car pulls up by the curb the two of you walk through and lets out a slight honk.

Now Nika’s face scrunches up. “Oh (Name), totally my bad, I forgot to tell you I’m going out to eat with my man today.”

Fuck your man. “Thats okay Niks.” You say. “All good.”

“It’s alright anyways. I’ll be seeing you Friday night after we win, and hey, at least try to watch the game online!”

And with that you watch her scurry off towards the passenger seat and happily jump in, kissing her boyfriend on the cheek and buckling her seatbelt. Her boyfriend waves at you slightly, aware of your friendship with Nika but not so aware of your infatuation. You want to scowl, but you force a smile.

You’re there standing, watching as the car pulls away and starts on the road. You don’t miss how Nika turns around to hold your eye until the car fades out of your vision.

-

You don’t know how much longer you can do this.

How much longer can you go on with this? With overthinking every lingering touch, restraining yourself at the sound of her voice, finding ways to run into her, knowing her schedule, being there for her wins and losses, wishing ill on her perfectly boring friendly boyfriend.

With every stride of her muscular legs beside yours, matching your pace, synchronized breathing, eyes meeting each other on perfect timing every time, you refuse to miss how she begs for your presence at important events. She refuses to miss how you freeze at the sheer mention of her partner.

She’s moody when you arrive at the bar. It’s different from the usual post-game celebration spot, less frat-like and more artsy. Warm lighting, hip hop blasting, decor littered fittingly with NBA and WBNA players.

You can see her clearly, leaning against the bar with her arms crossed, her drink half full on the counter behind her. She smiles when Paige shoves her playfully, but it fades as soon as the blonde turns her back.

You swallow the thought that she’s like that because she thinks you’re not gonna show. You know if you encourage things like that, it’ll only get ahead of your better judgment.

That being said, you were sure to dress exactly how she likes sexy. Hair done with intricacy that almost warranted a breakdown, makeup natural and with intention, clothing showing off how hard you’ve worked on those long runs. The way her lips slightly part at the sight of you is enough to short circuit your brain.

Ignoring how her friends seem to share looks at your presence, you slide up beside her as smoothly as possible before taking a sip of her drink.

“Good game.” You smile.

“You watched it?”

“I always do.”

“Yet you never come.” She scoffs.

“I can’t.” You say through gritted teeth, and it’s the truth. If you saw her play in real life it’d only make you want her more. “But I’m here now.”

You bump shoulders with her. “I’m here to celebrate my Nika.”

“Your Nika, huh.” She turns to you, lips turning upwards into a dangerous smirk.

Before you can respond, Paige is beside you. Her cheeks are unnaturally pink and she’s laughing up a storm that only screams intoxication. “Last I heard this was a team celebration.” She grins. “We love you and all, but why’re you here?”

You’re embarrassed and unsure what to say, but Nika immediately speaks up.

“Cus’ I want her here.” She quips, not too hostile but still enough to get the message across. With her quick words and beautifully furrowed brows she’s practically written BACK OFF in sharpie on Paige’s forehead.

“Aight, aight.” Paige chuckles, hands raised in surrender. Her teammates just shake their heads, and soon enough everyone disperses.

Getting drunk with Nika was a rare but amazing once in a while occurrence. She was not the type to be irresponsible, but the two of you were approaching a dangerous zone after an hour or so of talking and drinking. She couldn’t get a word out without laughing, and you couldn’t stop bouncing your leg to distract yourself from pouncing on her right then and there in front of all the other college kids.

“Have you ever thought of cheating?” She finally manages to hack out between giggles. You’re in a daze at the question, it’s too much to handle combined with her flushed face and batting eyelashes.

“Cheating…like on my partner.”

“Pfft, yes, who the fuck else?” She throws her head back. “Have you even dated? I never see you with anyone.”

“I’ve dated.” You say curtly, downing your drink and ordering another. “My last girlfriend was five months ago.”

“You had a girlfriend when we met?” She asks, eyes wide.

“I did.” You scoff. “We broke up, hic, like a couple weeks after you and me started running.”

“Huh, weird timing.” She mumbles. Your heart literally skips a beat, and you almost choke on your own spit.

“What’d you say?”

“Nothing, nothing.” She rushes, waving her hand dismissively. A beat of silence passes between you and her.

“I have thought of it.” You sigh. “Of cheating, I mean. It’s kinda why I broke it off with the last girl. I felt bad.”

“You’re better then me.” She grumbles, rubbing her forehead.

“Oh?” You smile teasingly, leaning into her slightly. “Trouble in paradise?”

“He’s great.” She says, the words a frantic mess leaving her mouth. “He treats me good. I just have….” She says, trailing off.

“I just have doubts about him. And interests in someone else.” Nika exhales, lips attaching to the rim of her drink and eyes flitting to yours. She’s saying something to you with her expressions alone, dissecting her words was a whole other job.

“And does this person share your interest?” You mumble, shifting in your seat.

“I dunno.” She shrugs. “I see em’ a lot. She looks at me like she’s interested, but she doesn’t get too close.”

“She doesn’t?”

“Nah, she doesn’t.” Nika shakes her head ever so slightly. “I’ve tried to get her with me more. Y’know, good seats at my games, drinks with my friends. She’s always busy.”

You can’t help but shudder at how she licks her lips in between words as her eyes search your face for any sort of reaction.

“Maybe she’s thrown off by that boyfriend of yours.”

“Do you think if she knew the boyfriend wouldn’t stop me, she’d still give it a chance?” Nika says slyly,

“Hm.” You say, legs pressing together. You can feel your pulse in your pussy and it’s getting hard to ignore. You consider your options before settling with “with a grand gesture to prove it, I don’t see why not.”

“Grand gesture, huh.” She leans into you, her lips just grazing your ear. “I might have something in mind.”

And with that, you’re on your feet and being led by hand through what feels like masses of people. You almost stumble at one point, head slightly spinning from the alcohol in your system and the speed she’s pulling you, but she doesn’t stop. There’s a twinkle in her eye that excites you to your core.

You’re embarrassed immediately when you enter the washroom and there are two girls by the sink touching up their makeup. You and Nika stand by the door excruciatingly awkwardly, her hand tight around yours.

The girls notice the shift in the air, or perhaps it’s Nika’s hazel eyes shooting a glare only opposing teams usually see that causes them to exchange a knowing look and leave as swiftly as the two of you came in.

In an instant her lips are on yours. You find yourself wishing you weren’t so drunk, you’ve only been fantasizing about this kiss for the five months you’ve known her and the three months prior you noticed her around campus. Despite the speed you hope to remember every breath in excruciatingly slow detail.

It’s a rush so aggressive you wonder if she’s making up for lost time. Your back hits the wall for a moment before you’re hoisted up onto the sink. When you let out a gasp she finds opportunity to meet your tongue with her own, deepening the kiss.

“Do you actually want me?” You whisper between kisses, feeling her brows furrow at your question. “Or is this just something to get back at your little boyfriend.”

“Don’t even start.” She snaps, pulling away from you ever so slightly. Her calloused hands are firmly planted on your hips, and her lips are hovering just above yours. It’s impossible to for you to hold any eye contact at this proximity, but she doesn’t struggle at all. “Why d’you think I always want you with me to celebrate n’ not him?”

You just shrug, feeling a wave of discomfort wash over you now.

She places a chaste kiss on your lips, different from the ones before. “I’ve never asked him to come with me to a bar with the girls. I’ve never asked anyone who isn’t on the team except for you.”

Now her kisses are trailing down your neck, she’s licking spots softly before sucking on the supple skin so tenderly, unmatched compared to the earlier feverish pace. “I’ve literally been begging you to come to my games, babe, begging.”

Now you scoff. “Are you serious? Do you think that makes it obvious you want me?” You say, attempting to keep a steady voice though it’s so hard when she’s nipping at you and tainting your skin purple and pink with lovebites.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers, her breath now warm between your thighs. “Can I make it up to you?”

You stare at her, pouting. You want to say no so badly, you want to push her away and tell her she’s awful for this, but you know you’re no better. You know your touches linger too long on her back, you know the way you think about her makes you just as guilty, which is why when you see her begging between your legs there’s no possible answer you could give other then yes.

And with the utter of your approval Nika is diving headfirst into the current you’ve both been swimming to avoid, her skilled hands holding your skimpy underwear to the side as her lips plant kisses near and on your pussy. You open your legs wider for her, and to thank you her tongue swirls manipulatively around your clit.

The bathroom is starting to blur through your vision, throwing one hand over your mouth to stifle too-loud-sighs while the other hand grasps Nika’s brown hair.

With every huff, whine and jolt she sends through your body you feel a growing sensation in your core. The brunette girl laps at your folds, sucking on your clit while her fingers tease your entrance. The combination of her fingers and mouth turn your sighs to whines and quiet cries of her name.

“See how sorry I am?” She mumbles between your legs. “So, so sorry baby. I shouldn’t be playing with you like that and assuming you know what I want.” Nika smiles, every word spoken sending shivers down your spine.

“S’okay.” You exhale. “Don’t stop.”

Once her fingers find the perfect pace she rises to meet your lips. Her kisses are passionate and messy, you couldn’t care in the slightest though. With every bite of your lip and curl of her finger you feel closer and closer to the edge.

“You close?” She whispers, and you nod timidly in response. Nika gives you the sweetest smile as she pumps in and out of you, your breathing is frantic and somehow in sync with hers. You think about how many times you’ve been so synchronized, but never like this. She bares a triumphant look, maintaining eye contact when you climax all over her fingers. Nika presses sweet kisses to your lips and you bask in the realization of what has just happened.

For a moment, just a moment, you forget she belongs to somebody else, because in this moment she is yours.

[formula-ghost]

Read Your Diary (FC43 x fem!reader)

Chapter 2: Own My Mind

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You might have finally admitted to yourself that you have feelings for Franco, but that doesn’t make the deep longing you feel for him any easier. And he's starting to make you question if he might feel the same longing for you, too.

WORD COUNT: 5.2k

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT 18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Reader is a lil freak, use of YN, mentions of anxiety disorders/therapy, reader has self esteem issues

TAGLIST: @scopeiguess

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love on part one! I never expected my first chapter to get any notes let alone over 200 notes in just a few days. Seriously every single note has me kicking my feet and turning my eyes into little heart emojis lol. I’m already about 2k words into ch 3 so I am hoping I’ll finish it before I have to travel for the holidays (I will not be able to write at all while I’m gone). Also, I had a request for someone to be tagged in this chapter, so let me know if you all would like me to start a permanent tag list. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Oh it’s automatic, you know I just gotta have it

I’ll make your body a habit

You know there’s some kind of magic, uh huh

Do you wanna, do you wanna, own my mind, own my mind?

The Singapore Grand Prix was later that night. Franco did really well considering the circumstances. It was disgustingly humid, and when he was done you could tell he felt awful. You were so angry at everyone at Williams for letting him race like that. Yes, it was his job, but that was your friend out there suffering—your friend who you had just admitted to yourself yesterday that you were in love with.

You watched him from afar when he spoke to the media afterwards. His curls were plastered down to his forehead with sweat, and his skin was pale and clammy. You just wanted to hold him and tell him that you were proud of him. Instead you had to settle for keeping an eye on him in the chaos of the paddock post-race, and helping him back to the hotel with his mother.

She had to get on an early flight, so she left and you promised her you’d stay until he was okay. She was worried about him, and you were too. God, seeing him so sick broke your heart. You helped pack up his things while he took a cold shower and he emerged in just a towel wrapped around his waist. He seemed to be feeling much better thankfully, and his more playful mood reflected it.

Of course, you snuck a glance or two at his sculpted form. Just a peek at his wet curls, the water droplets running down his chest—even the scar on his collarbone that he always tries to hide. He thinks it’s ugly. You think there isn’t a single part of him that’s ugly.

You tried to ignore him and continued tidying up. “I hope you don’t expect me to tip you,” he joked.

You playfully rolled your eyes. “What else are you going to do with all your stripper money?”

“Well, if we’re stripping…” he said, slowly lowering his hand down to his hips, palming the towel. You stomped to the bathroom, out of view of whatever joke he was making. “Get dressed, you man whore,” you instructed.

You lived for the banter you all had—at times, it felt like your own language separate from the rest of the world. The audience could hear Franco’s humor, but they’d never understand it like you did.

When you left the bathroom he was thankfully (or, unfortunately) fully clothed, lying on the bed and lazily scrolling through his phone.

“I’m glad you seem to be feeling better,” you said.

“Well, better than I was, but still kind of like shit,” he responded with a sigh.

“Well, you can get some rest, I’ve got you pretty much all packed up so you’ll be ready to go tomorrow.”

He put his phone down and gave you a soft smile. “Thank you.” He paused for a moment, as if he was readying himself to say something, and looked at the floor away from you. “YN, would you… stay? Just in case I get worse, you know.”

You could tell by the color in his face that he was feeling better, but how could you deny him this small comfort, when his eyes met yours through his long eyelashes, a sliver of light from the street lamps outside cutting through the drawn curtains and resting on his face? He was so beautiful. And he wanted you to stay.

“Of course,” you said. You were going to get up from the corner of the bed where you now sat and move to the chair until he fell asleep, but instead he motioned for you to lay down on the bed next to him. Tentatively, you did, heart racing as he laid his head on your shoulder and curled his body into you.

His playful flirting was normal, but this was… different, a closeness beyond what was usual between you two. You could feel the warmth of his skin, his breath steady against you. Yes, your heart was beating, but you felt strangely calm. Peaceful. In this moment all that mattered was you and your best friend, quietly sharing a moment in each other’s presence.

Your hand, trembling, reached down to smooth a piece of his hair. He hummed in response, to which you quickly moved your hand, mumbling, “Oh, sorry.”

He just grabbed your hand and wordlessly placed it back on his head. Slowly, you began to run your fingers through his beautiful curls. You got lost in the moment, and soon enough, you felt his breath even out as he fell into a peaceful sleep. Soon enough, the stillness of the moment and the soft rise and fall of his breathing lulled you to sleep too.

You woke just as the sun was beginning to illuminate the sky outside. You had an unfortunate habit of waking up in the middle of the night—a common symptom of anxiety, your therapist had told you—but for the first time in a long time, you slept through the night soundly.

You and Franco had shifted, and he know had his arm lazily wrapped around you. You remembered the previous night and felt your heartbeat increase. It wasn’t just the feeling of his arm draped across your waist, but the feeling of…. something else. A little… morning problem.

Of course, you knew Franco couldn’t help it. He wasn’t even awake, and from your years of friendship you knew how much of a heavy sleeper he was. It was just an uncontrollable biological phenomenon. Nothing more.

But you couldn’t stay, feeling him pressed against you like that. It felt wrong and you were so nervous you could hardly breathe. So you carefully wiggled your way out of his grasp and quietly left his room, returning to your own.

Returning to your hotel room, all you knew to do to calm yourself down was to write. So you opened your journal and wrote all about the scene; the dinner, the banter, waking up next to him in the morning sunlight.

You wrote until your hand started to cramp. Then you went back to read what you had written, skimming over it, your mind only picking up on little snippets.

Lily thought I was Franco’s girlfriend, and I guess I can’t blame her. He’s such a flirt, I love and hate it. I just wonder if it ever means anything to him. I mean, he treats random reporters the same way he treats his girlfriends. What does he do when he actually wants someone?

He asked me to stay. I thought he must still be sick, but he just wanted me to… cuddle? I ran my fingers through his hair until he fell asleep. He looked like an angel, so soft and innocent, resting next to me. I wanted to kiss him so badly.

But when I woke up, I could feel his morning wood pressing against me. God, it was so awkward. But I can’t stop thinking about it, what he would do if he really wanted me.

Oh no. Oh no no no. You shouldn’t write that kind of stuff. Having a crush was one thing, but thinking about him like that? It was…wrong. Franco was your best friend. Your best friend who was absolutely perfect—yes, physically as well.

You threw your journal on the bed with a grunt of frustration.

You were fucked.

Your heart beat nervously as you walked into the waiting room before your next therapy session. It had been a week or so since Singapore when you had finally admitted the truth to yourself.

Yes, you had feelings for Franco. Emotional and… physical. No, you had no idea what to do with them.

Waiting for the clock to strike the hour, you reached down into your bag to run your fingertips along the spine of your leather journal. You had been writing incessantly in it since that night.

And if you thought that your fantasies were bad then, oh, it had gotten so much worse.

You told yourself you couldn’t help it. You were ovulating. You’d been single for a while. You were a girl with needs. But you felt disgusted, basically writing porn about your best friend.

I keep imagining that night at the hotel in Singapore, when he came out of the bathroom with just his towel on. In my mind, he sits on the edge of the bed like always, hand carefully placed at the top of his towel. His hair is dripping and his skin is still dotted with water droplets.

He doesn’t even have to say anything. The way he looks at me—eyes looking up through his gorgeous lashes, his pouty lips looking so lonely—I know exactly what he wants. So I get on the bed and straddle him, the only thing between us being my skirt, panties, and the thin fabric of the towel. I can feel him, how badly he wants me.

Then I’m in control, kissing his neck, leaving love bites up and down so that everyone knows he’s mine. He moans softly into my ear, bucking up his hips into me for just a bit of friction. “No,” I tell him, “I didn’t give you permission for that.” He whines in protest, but I just smile at his frustration. “My sweet boy…”

Even remembering what you wrote felt filthy. You wanted him—all of him.

I had a dream last night that Franco dominated me. We are in his apartment, arguing about something stupid, and he pushed me against the wall, kissing me roughly, like he couldn’t get enough of me. He holds me waist with his strong hands as his kisses get deeper.

“I need to taste you,” he growls into my mouth, picking me up and throwing me on the bed. Before I can react he’s on top of me, one hand holding my chin and the other fumbling with the zipper of my jeans. “Are you going to be good for me?” he asks, and I frantically nod.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, smirking, as he pulls off my jeans and my panties with it—

“YN? You can come in now.” You’re pulled from your daydreaming by the voice of your therapist. You close the journal, embarrassed, but not without her seeing it in your hands.

“I hope you’re doing well. I see you’ve got a journal, you’ve been writing in it, I take it?” she asked as you sat down in the familiar office.

“Yeah, I have,” you answered, clutching it tightly in your folded hands.

“Well, that’s great! Has it been helping you?”

“Um… I guess?”

“Explain more.”

You paused, unable to think. All you could do was blurt out the truth.

“I’m in love with my best friend.”

“…Okay.” Your therapist also paused. “Did your writing bring about this revelation?”

You tumbled through the rest of the session, trying to explain what happened without revealing too many intimate details.

“I just feel… horrible I guess. It’s so dumb. It’s not like he’ll ever feel the same way about me.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, he’s so… perfect. And I’m an anxious mess,” you laughed.

“Is anxiety that much of a barrier to being loved?”

You laughed, considering the gravity of her question. You couldn’t truly answer it. “It shouldn’t be. But I just know he’d never choose me and that’s okay. He doesn’t even know how I feel, and even if I had the courage to tell him, I wouldn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Does it bother you, not being able to tell him about all of this?”

“….yeah, it does, actually,” you admitted. "I'll never do it but... I just wish I could, you know?"

"I understand. Why not start with expressing your feelings platonically? Telling him what he means to you as a friend?"

"I guess I could do that." You didn't quite know how you'd accomplish that, but you weren't in therapy just to refuse to try anything. You wanted to do hard things. You needed to do them.

So you made it your mission, next time you saw Franco, to tell him something meaningful. You weren't sure what it would be or how it would come out, but you'd at least try.

Unfortunately, it was a while before you'd see Franco again. There were a few weeks between Singapore and Austin, and between race prep with Williams and sponsorship deals, Franco was up to his ears in work. You still talked, of course—you texted back and forth every day—but it just wasn't the same, and you missed him horribly.

You'd felt this before, the ache in your stomach that longed for his presence when you'd gone too long without seeing him. You figured it would be different now that you had finally admitted to yourself what this feeling was. You didn't expect it to be worse.

Because now that feeling in your stomach was sharper. You didn't just yearn for the mere concept of him—you wanted everything. You missed his smile. You missed hearing his voice rise and fall in intonation as you bantered back and forth. You missed his perfect curls smoothed across his forehead. You missed the feeling of his arm wrapped around you, whether in a friendly embrace or something more intimate, like you'd had in Singapore. And in the back of your mind, you missed the feeling of Franco's hardness pressing against your back, a sign of what you fantasized was a deep wanting for you, both physical and emotional.

You tried, and failed, to rein in these fantasies. But with the more days that passed, the more Franco began to feel less and less like your best friend, and more and more like the version of him you'd created in your head, desperate for you more than anything else in the world.

You wrote all of this down, of course. If you hadn't you would have lost your mind with lust. Romantic pining was nothing new to you—you'd had a boyfriend before, although what you felt for him paled in comparison to Franco—but this intense physical desire you felt was new.

You had never been satisfied by anyone, anything, before. You smiled to yourself as you thought, well, I guess it's true what they say about the quiet, shy ones.

And Franco, unbeknownst to him, wasn't making it any easier. He called you one day, the first phone call you'd had in a while, a few days before you'd be flying out to Austin for the grand prix.

"I'm sorry I've been so busy," he explained, "but the stuff we're doing is so cool."

"Am I allowed to know, or is it top secret?" You smiled through the phone.

"Well... I can't tell you everything just yet, but I can give you a sneak peek. Check your messages."

You felt your phone vibrate, receiving a notification from Franco. You tapped on the text and nearly dropped your phone. He had sent you unedited pictures from a photoshoot, and he looked fucking amazing.

His voice on the other end of the line explained, "I'm gonna be on the cover of Forbes Mexico for the race. What do you think?"

At first, you were quite literally speechless. "Franco, you look..."

"Gorgeous? Sexy? Like the most fuckable Formula 1 driver?" he teased. For a split second, you wondered if it was possible to hear a blush through the phone.

His banter inspired your own. "... not bad. I mean, you certainly give them a lot of work to do to make you look good, but they did pretty decent."

If human beings could hear a blush through a phone, you were sure the noise that Franco made would be indicative of one. "Oh, shut up and tell me I'm pretty."

A million potential responses went through your head. Make me. Beg for it. My pretty boy.

Instead you just laughed and said, "No, really, you look great. This is amazing. You know the entire internet is going to lose their minds after this drops?"

He smiled. "That's the plan."

It still hadn't been released by the time you made it to Austin, but you weren't complaining. A part of you liked having this piece of Franco all to yourself. You kept going back to the photos again and again—his glare at the camera, his arm draped over a steering wheel—you couldn't get enough.

And when he met you at the airport in Austin (even though you told him it wasn't necessary), all that want came rushing back the instant he wrapped you in a hug that lasted a little too long to be considered platonic.

You couldn’t let your thoughts go that far. You’d already crossed a line by allowing yourself to feel such… intimate emotions for him. But to even imagine that he really wanted you to? No. That was where you actually drew the line.

But unfortunately, Franco’s confusing behavior made it far too easy for you to believe that he didn’t feel the same.

You all didn’t talk about that night in Singapore, or the fact that he must have woken up alone. You’d rather throw yourself into a pit of knives than talk about it and have to bear the embarrassment, and Franco didn’t seem bothered at all, so you let it go to the back of your head, acting as if it never happened at all. Your first day in Austin was fine, mainly spent recovering from jet lag and exploring the city on your own while Franco did his media duties. You had dinner with him that night and it was like no time had passed. The banter was the same, the atmosphere was great, and you were so happy to be back in his presence again.

As he walked you to your hotel room, you remembered your promise you had made to yourself, that you’d try to practice being vulnerable. For some reason, you didn’t have it in you today. You were tired, in a good way, but all you wanted was to curl up next to Franco and wake up in his arms the next morning.

And of course, you assumed Franco would want to stay. Why else would he walk you back to your room? Maybe it was the nervousness of the implication—you and Franco, alone in your hotel room—that prevented you from saying anything, or maybe you just knew that now wasn’t the right time.

Either way, there was no moment. Franco just bid you goodnight with a wave and left to his own room.

You didn’t know what you were expecting. He just didn’t like you like that, and it was okay. You didn’t want to ruin the friendship.

But you also couldn't help but feel a bit...disappointed. You cursed yourself for letting your fantasies become too real. It would be weirder if he had tried something.

Still, you dealt with these complicated emotions the only way you knew how: writing. You opened the journal and began to write away, not even stopping to think, just vomiting words on the page.

We're in Austin right now. It's been...normal. Good. Which is weird, considering that last time we were at a grand prix we spent the night together. It's not like that, but I can't help but think that something is just...different. I keep thinking about what my therapist asked, about anxiety being a barrier to love. Franco has always supported me, or tried to at least. I haven't exactly made it easy for him, or anyone else, since I bottle things up so much.

But he doesn't love me, not like that, anyways. He dates models—I mean, God, he is a model now—and I'm just me. I'm not exceptionally pretty or smart or funny. I'm nobody.

I can't help but fantasize about how things could be different. I imagine us going on a fancy date. He's wearing that suit he did the Mexico photoshoot in, with the top shirt buttons undone to tease me. He picks me up from my apartment at 8 with a bouquet of pink roses (not red, red is too cliche; but I guess I can't complain, no man has ever bought me flowers). I'm wearing that dress I got the last time we visited Argentina together—the one that hugs all my curves just right, and it's his favorite color. The dinner is sweet. We savor the time together, since it's more scarce now that he's a permanent driver in F1. We've had a few glasses of wine, just enough to get us slightly giggly and blushed, our inhibitions long abandoned. In the back of the Uber he traces his hand up and down my thigh, each time teasing scandalously closer and closer to the place I need him the most. 

The ride is torturously long, but when we arrive back at his apartment, he wastes no time in getting me alone so he can have his way with me. He picks me up bridal style and kisses me through my drunken laughter, a smile on his face, too. He lovingly tosses me on the bed before taking off his jacket. I just look at him in awe. He’s so fucking perfect. And he’s all mine. He gets on top of me, kissing me gently, and no words need to be exchanged between us. I can feel the tenderness of his lips against mine, and he pauses, looking me directly in the eyes. The moment is quiet and I feel so safe and loved with him, until our lips crash together and his hand finds its place on my thigh again. It trails up and

There was a knock at your door. 

You jumped, startled. Getting up and looking through the peephole in the door, you saw it was just, of course, Franco, so you hurried to open the door.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“You left your lipstick in my pocket,” he smirked, holding out the tube to you.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, having forgotten about asking him to hold it earlier at dinner since your outfit didn’t have pockets. 

“You didn’t even notice that I stole it.” It was true. You had completely forgotten about it with all your journaling. 

“Well, the shade would look good on you,” you teased. 

He playfully rolled his eyes. “It’s no fun pranking you when you don’t even notice. Keep up, hm?” Franco loved to play little tricks on you like this, and usually you played right into them, knowing that the fun of his taunting outweighed whatever consequence the prank itself would bring. 

“You’re impossible,” you said, smiling regardless. “Now, if you’re done stealing my stuff, I’m exhausted.” You went to close the door, assuming this to be the natural end of the exchange, until Franco took a step into your room and rested his weight on the doorframe.

“Not exhausted enough to skip your… journaling?” he said, looking over your shoulder.

Shit. Shit shit shit. You hadn’t closed your journal. 

“Since when do you journal?” he asked, leaning forward as if he was trying to make out the words from across the room.

If you had been smarter, smoother with it, you probably could have lied and said it was for work, then proceeded to rant about your remote corporate job which would have bored Franco to tears. But smart and smooth with it are two things that you are not.

You swiftly turned around to grab the journal and slam it closed, holding it in a death grip. Your absence from the door, however, had been interpreted by Franco as an invitation to come in. And it was clear by the urgency of your actions that whatever was in that journal was something you did NOT want him knowing.

You answered him, “I haven't been doing it very long.” There was a brief moment where you considered ending the conversation there. It was too late to formulate a good lie, anyway. But on the other hand, you wanted to do hard things and be honest with yourself and others. So you did. At least your therapist would be proud.

So you continued, “It was a suggestion from my therapist. Just helps you get your thoughts out so they aren’t all stuck in your head.” Simple enough. It was the truth, after all. He didn’t need to know what those thoughts were.

“Can I read it?”

You paused in bewilderment. “Um, no? Franco, what the fuck?”

“What?”

“You don’t just… ask to read someone’s personal journal.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s personal, you muppet!”

“Really? Stole that one from Lando?”

“It fits." You snorted. "But seriously, why would you ask to read my journal?” 

“Because I never know what you’re thinking. You’re impossible to figure out.”

“... I am?”

“Yes, you are.”

“Well why don’t you just, I don’t know, ask me what I’m thinking?”

“... I know you did not just say that.”  He made a face at you. Yeah, he was right. If you were skilled enough at communicating your emotions you wouldn’t have needed to start the journal in the first place. He continued, “You were literally dying in Singapore and when I asked you what was wrong you said you were fine.”

“Hey, I made it to quali alive,” you replied. 

“Look, I just… It would be nice to understand where you’re coming from a bit more, like… actually nevermind, forget I ever said anything.” Your confusion only lingered as Franco clearly struggled to find the words. You guess that this was how he felt communicating with you sometimes—it sucked.

“Whatever, you weirdo,” you said, your joking tone an indicator to him that you were willing to act as if this horribly embarrassing exchange had never happened. 

“Goodnight, YN,” he said as he left the room, ending the conversation like that. Now it was your turn to be confused by his actions. There was something he clearly wanted to say but couldn’t, and you let yourself wonder, just for a second, if what was happening to you wasn’t so different from whatever was going on in his head.

You let your fantasies lull you into sleep.

Again, you let… whatever was happening between you and Franco go unsaid and focused on supporting him for the grand prix. 

From the Williams garage, you cheered him on as he got another point, overtaking Alonso so skillfully. When he came back to the garage, you met him as you always did, with a smile that stretched across your entire face. Your hug this time was different, as he picked you up and twirled you around. You laughed into his shoulder, holding on to him as he spun you.

He put you down and was immediately assailed by hugs all around from the Williams team. Lily, who had been in the garage by your side the whole race, elbowed you in the side. 

“So, you and Franco are just friends, huh?” she teased. You all had become friendly enough that a little bit of banter was acceptable. 

You inhaled with a soft smile, watching him celebrate in the distance. Once again, you chose vulnerable honesty. 

“Yes, we’re just friends. But it’s…complicated.”

Her eyes widened and she turned to you, shielding you off from the celebratory scene. In a lowered voice, she muttered, “You have feelings for him?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Unfortunately, yeah. But c’mon, he just spun you around like a Disney princess. He obviously has feelings too. And have you seen what the fans are saying about you all?”

“No?” You were surprised the fans even knew you existed. You had cut down on social media a long time ago, knowing how much it contributed to your anxiety and self-esteem issues. You still had accounts, but all were private and hardly used, and you didn’t interact much with fans at the races, preferring to stay in the garage or in Williams hospitality to enjoy the races without worrying about what people were thinking of you.

“They love you two. Seriously, I think there’s gotta be a million teenage girls living vicariously through you.”

You laughed at her comment, not in a mocking way, but because of the absurdity of it all. None of these people really knew you, or Franco, for that matter. It just proved your point that social media wasn’t real.

So if people on social media were shipping you and Franco, then it couldn’t be true. At least, that’s the confusing logic you held yourself to. A line had to be drawn somewhere.

Your conversion with Lily was cut short by Franco approaching. “Celebratory dinner later?” he asked, still beaming. You agreed.

If you could have bottled the energy that Franco exuded all day after the race, you would have had yourself a very lucrative energy drink company. As he was packing up his things to leave the circuit, you all passed by barriers where fans were practically crawling their way to get to him, screaming his name and waving Argentine flags in the air. He tilted his head to them as you passed, and asked, “Can I?”

You were in no rush, and of course you could never deny him this moment to enjoy what he had built with all his hard work. He stopped to sign shirts and caps while you stood behind. Everyone had their phones out, filming Franco, but you knew you’d inevitably end up in the background. You just hoped you didn’t look too awkward. 

Franco turned his head back to you as the crowd behind the barrier just grew more and more excited. “You see this, YN? This is insane!” his smile stretched from ear to ear, and you just smiled in response. He climbed up the fence, eliciting a small giggle from you, and filmed the crowd below him chanting his name.

You had never been more proud of him. And you had to say it. 

So you did, after dinner when you all somehow ended up in his hotel room together again. The atmosphere was…calm. Familiar. Warm.

The conversation had reached a natural pause, and the night had gotten to that point where that space between you and him felt simultaneously infinite and nonexistent. 

He sat crossed legged on the bed, fiddling with something in his suitcase next to him. You sat on the chair only a few feet away.

“I’m so proud of you, Franco. I don’t tell you enough.”

He looked up and your eyes met. And he blushed. You had made Franco Colapinto blush.

“When did you get all sappy on me?” he asked. There was still a bit of a wall up. It was unusual for you all to be this vulnerable with each other.

“Since my best friend in the entire world is achieving all his dreams! I mean, we’re celebrating points now, but one day we’ll be celebrating podiums. And then race wins. And then championships. I believe it.”

The room was draped in a thick silence. Franco knew you didn’t throw these words around carelessly. And the unspoken implication, that you’d be there for all of it.

“I believe it too,” he said quietly. There was no ego in his statement. Only true hope.

[zoesmp4]

NERVOUS “you’ve got me nervous to speak.” carl grimes x fem!reader

tags: angst to fluff, use of y/n, cussing

a/n: back from the dead!! sorta based on nervous by the nbhd, and there’s also a little tsitp steven and taylor action that i used for inspiration. lyrics r in bold + italics or in between paras. enjoy lovelies!!

the bond between you and carl was truly inseparable. you two had been through it all together, and never once had either of you thought about ending it all.

that was until now.

god, you don’t know how you found yourself in this situation. he’s just a friend. he’s always been just a friend. that’s what you believed, and that’s what you always told people. 

so how come, all of a sudden, he started becoming more than that? how come, out of the blue, you started getting butterflies at his gaze? it was an unfamiliar feeling, and you didn’t like it. you didn’t like it at all. 

you didn’t wanna do anything to jeopardize your beloved friendship, especially over something so dumb. you weren’t gonna lose everything all because of a stupid crush. so, after ages of decision making, you finally set your mind on a reasonable solution.

should i be quiet?

you were just gonna take some time to yourself. you were gonna stop talking to him for a bit. that’s all you needed, just some space. it couldn’t be that hard to lose feelings. besides, he would understand, right?

he in fact did not understand. “wanna come over? i just finished reading that comic you wanted.” he said, a grin plastered onto his face. “not today.” you quickly shut him down, and you could see the happiness on his face slowly fade away.

“oh, that’s fine. tomorrow?” you felt so bad. you really did wanna hang out with him, but you had to push away these feelings first. “i just need some time to myself for a while.”

your felt your heart pang when you looked at his expression. he gave you a slight smile, attempting to mask his disappointment. but you knew him. you knew him well enough to know he was upset. “yeah, i get it. i’ll see you later y/n.” he said, walking away. all of the energy he had when he approached you was long gone now.

it had been days, weeks even. you hadn’t uttered a word to him. so why wasn’t it working? why did you still long for him? it was so frustrating. 

not to mention, you were a mess. you would often find yourself with your head buried deep within your pillow, sniffling as tears flowed down your cheeks. on top of that, you weren’t getting enough sleep. you just missed carl. 

you figured the best thing you could do for yourself was to just get some fresh air. after all, it was no use trying to fix stuff with carl, you already fucked it all up. 

you took in the breeze, as you fiddled with your fingers. if it was a normal day, you would’ve been happy. you loved the cold, but today it was different. today, it made you feel numb. it made everything worse. 

you tried getting it off your mind. you tried to think about other things, but you couldn’t stop thinking about the look he had on his face the last time you talked to him. his smile was wiped clean off his face, and it was all your fault. 

you started to feel your eyes prick with tears. a single drop slowly traveled down your face, and you quickly wiped it off with your sleeve. 

you just wanted to cry, but you weren’t gonna let yourself do it out in the public. after all, once you started crying, you weren’t gonna stop. so, you turned around and picked up the pace. you were headed back home, where you could be vulnerable. 

your head was faced down, trying to hide your glassy eyes from anyone who could potentially see. “y/n?” you hear someone call out to you. the voice sounded familiar, and you instantly knew who it was without even lifting your head in the slightest. 

it was carl. you had to get away. just pretend you didn’t hear him, you thought to yourself. your footsteps quickened, until you heard his pleading voice once again. 

“just talk to me. please. is it something i said? i’m sorry for whatever i did.” 

“you didn’t do anything. it’s me. it’s all my fucking fault because my stupid self caught feelings for her best friend.” you wanted to say, but you restrained yourself. 

you finally came to a stop, turning around to face him. as soon as you met his gaze, you wanted to cry the hardest you’d ever cried before. 

he slowly stepped closer to you until his taller figure was in close in front of you. “can you please talk to me? you know i won’t get mad. you know i’m listening. so please, just please tell me what’s been bothering you.” he begged, his eyes softening. 

you let out a sigh, still sniffling. “it’s not your fault carl.” you said, your voice barely audible. “then what is it?” he said, keeping his voice at the same, calm volume. 

“i-i like you, and it’s really embarrassing.” you confess. you instantly regret your choice of words when you see a frown start to appear on his face. “i don’t know what i was expecting, but that was really fucking mean.” he says, about to walk away.

“no, carl. it’s embarrassing because of how much i like you.” there it is. that’s what you’ve been holding in. it felt weird hearing the words coming out of your mouth. “how is that embarrassing?” he questioned, the tender look started to come back on his face. 

ask me and ill tell you how i’ve been

“i- it’s like i forgot how to act around you. i’m always scared i’m gonna mess up. you’ve got me nervous to speak.”

that was the last thing you managed to get out before he pulled you into his chest for a tight hug. the dam holding your tears back broke.

the wetness stained his shirt, but he didn’t care. he rubbed your back with his arm, soothing you. you missed his embrace, the feeling you would get when you were in his arms felt heavenly.

after a few more seconds of the hug, carl shifted his hands to your shoulders. he softly pushed you back a little bit to get a look at your face.

he reached for your face to wipe any tears. “m’ sorry for ignoring you.” you said, voice soft and quiet. he shook his head, giving you a gentle smile. 

“you’re okay sweet girl, don’t worry about it.” he said. “i-it’s not okay. i ignored you for so long, i just cut you off like that. without a single warning. it was so inconsiderate and i’m really sor-” 

hush, baby, don’t you say another word

“you never shut up do you?” he said, cutting you off mid sentence before he crashed his lips onto yours. your eyes widened, and your movements froze before you slowly adjusted to the kiss. your eyes fluttered closed before you hesitantly tilted your head to get closer.

this was a new experience for the both of you, but it felt like he had years of practice. the way his hands made their way around your body, it sent shivers down your spine.  

after what seemed like an eternity, you both pulled away. the sounds of your mixed heavy breaths filled the air. carl’s hand reached for your face before he wiped your slightly smudged chapstick. 

he then tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. the gesture made the butterflies in your stomach act up more than they ever had in your life. 

i got goosebumps all over me

“next time, just let me know what’s on your mind, yeah?” he asks. “okay.” you say, looking at him with pure admiration. “that’s my girl.” 

[megalomaniacz]

★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ CONSUME - [E. W]

a little treat! reminds me of some of my older/toxic stuff kinda! thought i’d post a lil something before kinktober hits! consume by chase atlantic is what the title is based off of! also heavily inspired by @eightstarr i’m obsessed with all their works! (tried to post this like 70 times this is the second version of it so please be gentle)

“swallow all of it, fuck.” tears were running down ellie’s face. actual tears of pleasure. she’d been grinding her teeth so much she was sure she’d sawed them down an inch. your tongue, lapping at her cunt at an unforgiving pace, was pushing her over the edge. she gripped a chunk of your hair ordering you not to miss a drop of her.

and you happily swallowed every bit. looking up at her with hungry eyes. this was your way of proving you could be good to each other. by showing one another how good giving in could feel. how much euphoria you could get from one touch. one kiss. all of it leading to a night full of thigh clenching memories.

one being the way she’d shook when she finished. the poor thing nearly lost her balance, causing her to push her cunt further into your face. the action overstimulated her in the moment, making her shake even more. her eyes finding themselves gazing into yours while she bit her lip.

you lift yourself up to give her a break, holding her steady while you place a sweet kiss on her lips. she smiles, tasting herself on your tongue. “damn, you’re so good to me.” you nod at her sentiment. “i think it’s time i return the favor, yeah?”

ellie, only in her bra, had pulled you onto her lap for a deepened kiss. her hands grabbing at your waist while her thigh pushed up into your core. all the friction making you a weak and moaning mess on her mouth. pleads falling from your lips that caused her to chuckle to herself. since she had, as she puts it, “barely touched you and you’re already begging for more.”

ellie loved when you begged. she loved it even more when she felt just how wet you’d get from her asking you to. “cmon pretty girl, tell me what it is you want me to do?” never failed to turn you into a mess for her. what made it worse was the way she’d whisper these things into your ear. her lips kissing up your neck and your jawbone until she reaches your earlobe. a sly smile and a laugh threatening to escape her as she watched you tense up from the contact.

“i wanna hear you ask for it first, and then i wanna hear you beg for it.”

but ofcourse, something got in the way. ellie didn’t let that stop her though, promptly calling you at 10:00pm exactly. wearing nothing but a wife pleaser and a pair of underwear that was ruined the second you spoke. “hey ellie.”

“fuck, i’ll never get tired of hearing your voice.” she breathes.

“are you touching yourself right now?” you ask, noting her labored breathing and delayed response. she sighs on the other end.

“no, but i will if you want me to.”

“what happened tonight? i thought you were coming over.” you were sat in your own bed, conveniently wearing ellie’s shirt and a pair of boxers she’d left. “change your mind?”

“never. some shit got in the way. something stupid, don’t worry about it. tell me about your day.”

you laugh softly. “was that what you planned on talking about when you came over?”

“i didn’t plan to do much talking at all, actually. but we’re over the phone and that’s how you have a conversation. call and response.”

you roll your eyes. “oh i see. it was decent. tiring. a little stressful.” you respond.

she hums. “i know a good way to make all that stress go away.”

“you gonna be a good girl for me and let me hear you make those pretty noises?” was all she had to ask and you’d found yourself with your fingers in your cunt. ellie adored the sound of them slipping in and out. taking the opportunity to tease. “i can hear how fucking wet you are.”

your other hand had found its way to your clit. she was coaching you with her lip tucked in between her teeth. face hot from how flustered you were making her. “slow circles baby. spread your wetness around. make it sloppy. make a mess.”

your labored breathes, quickening pace, and overall inability to respond had let her know that her few words of encouragement were driving you over the edge. she put up that she was a shy loser, but behind closed doors, she had hidden confidence.

“you gonna come for me? is that it?” she asks. you, in a pleasure filled daze, forget that she isn’t there and nod your head. a sigh leaves her lips as her question is met with silence. her hand had found its way onto her very own cunt, rubbing sloppy circles at the sound of your voice.

“yes— yes i’m, fuck.” you finally spit out. she actually laughs. out loud. finding it humorous that she didn’t have to be there to make you a mess for her. she was sure she didn’t have to be on the other end of a phone either. confident in her thought that you’d masturbated to the thought of her all by yourself.

you hold back tears as you feel yourself rivaling on the edge. pleads escaping your lips while ellie begins to come undone herself. “hold it in baby, i wanna come with you.”

you do, fighting the urge to fully let yourself go. pools of your slick staining underneath you. your hands tiring from how long you’d been working yourself up. her name on the tip of your tongue.

you wondered what she’d do when she found out you did this wearing her shirt.